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PAULINE AND OTHER STUDIES‘
PLATE 111.

FIG. 8.—Church of St. Amphilochius 0n the Acropulis
of Iconium.
Fr'mu‘isfiircr'. 811- f, 170.
PAULINE AND OTHER
STUDIES
IN EARLY CHRISTIAN HISTORY
r L
k I ‘*i\ \ I ‘J’
g‘ i 5L‘ \l". .I"
W.‘’ M. “RAMSAY, HON. D.C.L., ETC.
PROFESSOR OF HUMANITY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON MCMVI
PREFACE
OF the following essays one is entirely new. Six
may be called new, as each is worked up anew out
of several articles. For example, N o. XIV. contains
parts of five articles on Pauline Chronology. The
rest have been carefully revised and improved in
many details.
It has encouraged me greatly to find that even
in the oldest articles no change of opinion on Pauline
topics has been needed, except to write sometimes
more confidently. The object originally was to state
facts, not to make daring inferences; and further
study during the intervening years has simply been
a process of building on the foundation of these old
studies. Qne correction was needed on page 358.
About May, A.D. 62, the Jews sent a deputation to
meet the new governor of Palestine at Alexandria.
Formerly I supposed that he was promoted to
V
vi Preface

Palestine from a post in Egypt; but in Writing on
“ Roadsland Travel” for Dr. Hastings’ Dictionary 'I
learned to correlate this deputation With several other
facts, and thus to recognise a general principle of the
Roman service, which confirms older chronological
arguments.
My best thanks are due to the editors of the J
C 01/zz‘evep0m1/y Review, Quam‘eV/y Revz'ew, [meat/prefer,
Homz'lez‘z'c Review and Expositor for permission to
use articles published in those magazines.
The papers are not exactly those which at first
I intended to include, but rather a series possessing
a certain unity of character as a survey of important
movements and men in the early Christian centuries.
The eleventh is an experiment how far a lecture with
lantern slides can be put into printed form.
CONTENTS
I
SHALL WE HEAR EVIDENCE OR NOT?
II
THE CHARM OF PAUL
III
THE STATESMANSHIP OF PAUL
IV
PAGAN REVIVALISM AND THE PERSECUTIONS OF THE EARLY
CHURCH
V
THE WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN MARY AT EPHEsUs
VI
THE PERMANENCE OF RELIGION AT HOLY PLAcEs IN
WESTERN ASIA
VII
THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES
VIII
THE LAWFUL ASSEMBLY
PAGE
27
49
103
125
191
203
vii
viii Contem‘s

IX
THE OLIVE-TREE AND THE WILD-OLIVE
X
QUESTIONS! WITH A MEMORY OF DR. HORT
XI
ST. PAUL’s ROAD FROM CILIcIA TO IcONIUM
XII
THE AUTHORsHIP OF THE AcTs
XIII
A STUDY OF ST. PAUL BY MR. BARING-GOULD
XIV
THE PAULINE CHRONOLOGY
XV
LIFE IN THE DAYs OF ST. BAsIL THE GREAT
INDEX L
INDEX II.
PA GB
219
253
273
301
325
345
369
407
415
I.
III.
IV.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
FIG.
I.
9.
IO.
II.
12.
I3.
15.
. I6.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
ILLUSTRATIONS
PLATES
Ephesus, looking from the Top of the Theatre
down the Street to the City Harbour and
Hill of St. Paul
b
FACING
PAGE
. . . . I52
. The Mother-Goddess of Ephesus anthropo-
morphised . . . . . I60
. Church of St. Amphilochius on the Acropolis
of Iconium . . frontispiece
The Peasant-God at Ibriz . . 172
The Bridge over the Pyramos at Missis 176
The Bridge over the Saros at Adana . 176
The Bridge over the Cydnus on the East
of Tarsus . . . . 192
St. Paul’s Gate on the West of Tarsus 208
The American College in Tarsus and the
Snowy Taurus . . . . . 218
Falls of the Cydnus on the North side of
Tarsus . . . . . . 240
American Missionary on the Roman Road . 252
The Arch of Severus with Students of the
American College in Tarsus 288
The Arch of Severus at Bairamli. . 288
sarcophagus in the Ruins near the Arch of
Severus . . . . 268
Looking up towards the Cilician Gates 27o

X [flush/widows
FIG. “15.1.23
XVI. 22. In the Cilician Gates 27o
XVII. 23. In the Vale of Bozanti . 274
XVIII. 24. Looking up towards White Bridge 276
XIX. 25. Looking down towards White Bridge . 276
XX. 26.. Above White Bridge: Rock-gate cut to take
the ancient Road . . . . 278
XXI. 27. At Twin Khan, looking up the Water of
Bulghar Maden . . . . . 278
XXII. 28.. Old Turkish Bridge in the Gorge above
Twin Khan . 280
XXIII. 29. The Castle of Loulon . . . 282
XXIV. 30. Looking South-east up Stream towards the
snowy summits of Taurus: Ibriz on the
right . . . . 284
XXV. 31. The sarcophagus of Sidamaria 286
XXVI. 32. The Castle of Kararnan at Laranda 288
XXVII. 33. The “Pilgrim-Father ” above Derbe 290
XXVIII. 34. The Acropolis of Derbe . . . . 292
XXIX. 3 5. Walls within the Hill-fortress above Derbe . 294
XXX. 36. Distant View of Khatyn-Serai and Lystra from
the South-East 296
XXXI. 3,7. The Acropolis of Lystra 298
CUTS IN THE TEXT
PAGE
Fig. 3, 4. The Hellenised Virgin Goddess of Ephesus and
the Anatolian Mother of Ephesus, the Queen-Bee 160
Fig. 5, 6. The Anatolian Mother of Ephesus, half anthropo-
morphised . . . . . . . 160
Fig. 7. Tomb of a Christian Virgin of the Third Century,
with the symbol of the Dove and Leaf . . 162
Fig. 14. Tomb of a Bishop of the Third Century, with the
symbol of the Open Book 216
fllusz‘raz‘z'om xi

PAGE
Fig. 38. Tomb of an early Christian Physician, with the
symbol of the Holy Fish, thrice repeated . . 300
Fig. 39. Tombstone of Paul the Martyr of Derbe . . 322
Fig. 40. Tomb of an early Deacon, with the symbols of the
Net Swastika and Crown, and Implements of the
Occupation of the deceased . . facing page I
MAPS
I. THE PAULINE WORLD . . . . facing page 48
II. III. EPHEsUs AND THE PANAGIA KAPULU . page 124
I. \
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See page 298.
of Deccascd’s Occupation).
EXXa/L.
4Hm_--_ _-- -_ _-
Fig. 40. Tomb of an early Deacon (symbols of Net, Crown and Swastika, also Implements

I
SHALL WE HEAR EVIDENCE OR
NOT.P
l
SHALL WE HEAR EVIDENCE OR NOT?
IN studying the life of St. Paul everything depends on the
point of view from which one contemplates it, and the pre—
possessions with which one approaches the subject. There
is one preliminary question on which it is absolutely neces-
sary to make up one’s mind clearly: Are we open to hear
evidence or shall We rule it out beforehand? In recent
years those who most pride themselves on their “ freedom ”
of mind have set aside as inadmissible all evidence bearing
on the greatest event of St. Paul’s life, via, his experience
on the road to Damascus. To do so means that they have
made up their mind before they enter on the investigation.
The religion of the Jews from its first beginning to its
fullest development in Christianity was founded on the
belief that human nature can, in certain cases, at certain
moments in the life of certain individuals, come into direct
communion with the Divine Being, and can thus learn the
purpose and will of God. In other words, God occasionally
reveals Himself to man.
St. Paul himself believed unhesitatingly in the frequent
occurrence of such revelations. This belief was part of his
Jewish inheritance, strong with the growth of a hundred
generations, a force driving him on through his whole life.
Hence it demands the attention of every one who studies
(3)
4 [

his life. In St. Paul’s view all true religion was the direct
utterance of the voice and will of God, and all human
history was impelled in its course by such utterance. He
had been trained from infancy in the Hebrew view, which
attributed the whole course of the national religion and
fortunes—the latter being simply the measure of national
adherence to the religion—to a series of such revelations
made by God on various occasions to .certain favoured
individuals.
In his later years St. Paul did not consider that such
revelation had been denied to other nations and confined
absolutely to the Jews. On the contrary, it lies at the
foundation of his later ideas of history and of life that all
nations have some share in the revelation of God, and some
capacity for understanding it, that w/iat can oe known of
H iin is manifest in tkenz, for He manifested it nnto t/ze1n ,-
for H is in'oisik/e nature, viz. His eternatpower and God/zead,
is clearly seen since tke creation of t/te world, [icing perceived
tkrong/z t/ie works of creation ; that He has never left Hinz-
self witkont witness, in t/zat He did good and gave from
keaven rains and fruit/‘n! seasons, filling nzen’s kearts wit/i
food and gladness ; and that, through this revelation, all men
skow t/ze work of t/ie law written in tkeir kearts, their
conscience oearing witness tkerewit/z.
This revelation, which is granted to all nations, has some—
times been distinguished as “natural” revelation from that
which was imparted to the Hebrews, the inference being
that the latter was “supernatural”. This seems to be an
unsatisfactory way of expressing the nature of that undeni-
able distinction. It is misleading, and even inaccurate, to
use the term “supernatural”. We hold that revelation of
the Divine to the human is a necessary part of the order of
Seal! we Hear Evidence 07/ Not P 5

nature, and therefore is in the strictest sense “natural”;
and also that all revelation of the Divine to the human
nature must necessarily be “superhuman,” being a step in
the gradual elevation of the human nature towards the
Divine.
The nations had one by one rejected that revelation, or,
as we might say in more modern phraseology, their history
had become a process of degeneration. After a beginning
of learning, of comprehension, and of improvement, their
will and desire soon became degraded. In St. Paul’s own
Words, after kieowz'ng Goa’, Z/zey ceased Z0 gZm/z'jj/ Him as God,
and 50 (5e thankful, em‘ fumed z‘ofiez‘z'lepkz'losepkz'e speculations,
and z‘kez'r faeu/z‘z'es Zosz‘ z‘ke fewer of eeiezpre/zendz'ng and de-
eame oésezzred. The result was a steady process of degrada-
tion, folly, vice, crime, which St. Paul paints in terrible
colours (Rom.
History undoubtedly justifies this picture of the nations
over which St. Paul’s view extended. Where we can trace
the outlines of their history over a sufficient time, we find
that in an earlier stage, and up to a certain point, their
religious ideas and rites were simpler, higher, purer. Some-
times we can trace a considerable period of development
and advance. But in every case the development turns to
degeneration,1 and throughout the Grmco-Roman world the
belief was general, and thoroughly justified, that the state
of morality in the first century was much more degraded
than it had been several centuries earlier. Society had
become more complex and more vicious. In religion the
number of gods had been multiplied, but its hold on the
belief of men had been weakened and its worst character-
1 This paragraph is a brief statement of the view stated more fully in
“ Religion of Greece and Asia Minor” (Hastings’ Dict., v.).
6 f

istics had been strengthened, while any good features in it
had almost wholly disappeared.
It is doubtful how far that principle should be extended
in human history, but there are certainly many examples
of a similar kind beyond the range of St. Paul’s knowledge.
The history of Brahminism, of Buddhism, of Islam, of
Zoroastrianism, all exemplify the same turn towards de-
gradation and decay, when the power of growth has been
exhausted. And, in the light of recent investigations, it
must be considered as probable, perhaps almost certain,
that many barbarous superstitions which by some modern
scientific inquirers in the subject of folklore and primitive
custom have been regarded as indications of the character
of primitive man, are not really primitive, but merely
examples of degeneration.
Some races have degenerated through the influence of
war, because they lay too much on the track of armies
and armed migration; others deteriorated through un-
favourable climatic conditions, either because they were
crushed into remote corners among untraversable moun-
tains, or into regions unfit to support life on proper con-
ditions, or because a too enervating and luxurious climate
sapped the stamina and energy of the people in the course
of generations. Massacre, or the dread of massacre, has
been a frequent cause of degeneration. The victors are
brutalised. The survivors of the victims deteriorate be-
cause the higher qualities of human nature are denied
exercise, as entailing the death of those who display them.
Among the Jews alone there was found a long succes-
sion of great men who heard and obeyed the Divine voice.
Each was, in a sense, the disciple of his predecessor, learn-
ing from the past and acquiring fuller comprehension of,
S/eall we Hear Evidence 01/ N0! .7 7

and susceptibility to, the Divine nature and revelation. In
the process of revelation the religious ideas which they
expressed to the people developed and became purer and
more elevated. In each new revelation the whole past
experience of the race was focussed, and the spark of
progres" kindled therefrom. Those old Heb
thus raised the national ideas and the national life, for
though the nation always seemed to them to be slipping
back into idolatry and the immorality which is its in-
evitable associate, yet, in reality, the people were being
raised, though only very slowly, above the low level of
their ancestors. What seemed to the Hebrew prophets
“A11”? ‘\“Ant‘n4'r‘
1 L, w 1J1 utjupca
to be retrogression was strictly only persistence of old
habits.
Yet that apparently favoured nation was not in the long
run more responsive than the others had been to the Divine
message. It was for a time drawn onwards by the prophets
whom it produced. Almost reluctantly, with many slips
and many falls, it was raised to a far higher moral level than
any of the nations around. The captivity in Babylonia
purified it, for it was chiefly the most patriotic and religious
who came back, while the more weak-minded and sluggish
would not face the difficulties of returning. The Zealots
were in the majority, and they held the nation together,
resisted the insidious advance of Greek civilisation and
education, defeated at last the Syrian armies, and won
freedom for their nationality and their religion.
But the hard-won triumph resulted only in unfertile ex-
clusiveness and self-complacency. The people ceased to
feel any need and any desire for the Divine guidance, and
lost all power of development. The race of the prophets
seemed to have come to an end, when john the Baptist
8 I

appeared with the brief simple message that the Messiah
was at hand.
To St. Paul the failure of the Jews to recognise and
receive the Christ was the result and the proof of their
having ceased to be the favoured nation. They had refused
to listen to the Divine voice, and the Divine favour was
turned away from them. It had never been part of the
Divine purpose to reject the nations. The nations had
turned away from God, but they had learned in their
consequent degradation and darkness their need of Divine
illumination, which the Jews in their self-satisfied exclu-
siveness had begun to despise.
How far certain germs of his later views already existed
in Saul’s mind during the early part of his career, it is
impossible to say. It is probable that some germs did
exist of a wider view than the purely Jewish. But, at
any rate, Saul, in his youth, was mainly occupied with the
thought of Hebrew progress in the past, and the coming
triumph of Hebrew religion. He could not shut his eyes
to the fact that the great line of the prophets had for a
considerable time been interrupted ; and he must have been
firmly convinced that the interruption could not last for
ever, and that a new revelation of the Divine power was
likely soon to come. There can be no doubt that the
feeling to which John the Baptist gave utterance was deep
and wide-spread; and few will doubt that Saul shared it.
With this belief in the reality and frequency of Divine
revelation reigning with intense fervour in his mind, Saul
must always have been prepared to hear that a prophet
had appeared; and, according to our conception of his
character, he must from childhood have been filled with
the desire and hope of hearing for himself the Divine voice.
Sled/l we Heme Evidence 07/ Noz‘ ? 9

He must have had his mind roused by the message of john ;
he may probably have heard him, and believed fervently
his announcement of the immediate coming of Christ.
But, further, Saul undoubtedly was eager, and was
preparing himself by education, by study, by scrupulous
obedience to the Law, by ardent zeal in enforcing it on
others, to be in a fit state to hear the voice of God. It may
be argued that this eagerness rendered him the more
open to self-deception : and there is of course some plausi-
bility in that argument.
The issue was that he did become the recipient of revela-
tion, and that his life was profoundly affected, and his
views revolutionised thereby. He repeatedly described
himself, or is described by others, as having both seen the
Lord and heard His voice.
Now what do we understand by this? The question
cannot and ought not to be evaded. Paul’s words are too
clear and strong to be passed over as inexact or unim-
portant. He declared emphatically that the revelations
made to him, the words spoken to him, and the sights
granted to his eyes, were his greatest privilege and honour,
constituted the motive power of all his action, and sup-
plied the whole spirit and essence of his life. Those re-
velations, and especially the first of them, when he saw
jesus on the way, as he was now nigh unto Damascus,
were in his view the most real events of his life. In com-
parison with them, all else was mere shadow and semblance ;
in those moments he had come in contact with the truth of
the world, the Divine reality. He had been permitted to
become aware of the omnipresent God who is everywhere
around us and in us.
Various attempts are made to explain away or soften
10 1

down his clear and emphatic words by devices of a more
or less sophistical kind ; and many people hope in this way
to retain all that they like in Paul, while they pretend that
he did not mean what they dislike. But all such attempts
to close the eyes to plain facts are unreasonable.
In truth that vision near Damascus is the critical point,
on which all study of St. Paul’s life must turn. On our
conception of that event depends the whole interpretation
of his life. The question at this stage is not whether that
event as he conceived it was true and real, or was distorted
and exaggerated in his mind owing to some diseased and
unbalanced mental state. That question will come up in
its proper place.
The preliminary question alone here concerns us: was
that event, in the form that Paul describes it, a possible
one, or was it so wholly and absolutely impossible that even
to discuss the evidence about it is irrational?
If it be an impossibility that the Divine nature can thus
reveal itself to human senses, then the whole life and work
of Paul would be a mere piece of self-deception. To those
who take that point of view, the only other alternative to
self-deception, regarding a man who declared that the
Divine nature had manifested itself to his hearing and
sight, would be the supposition of imposture. But, in
the case of Saul, this alternative is, by common consent,
set aside. He was an honest believer in what he said.
Now no amount of evidence can make us believe in
what we know to be impossible. One who holds such
manifestation to be impossible cannot regard seriously, or
even listen to, any evidence of its having occurred. Such
evidence is condemned in his mind before it is brought
forward, as involving either self-deception and unsound mind
Shall we Hem’ Evidence or Noi ? II

or imposture. If he examines at all the so-called “evi-
dence,” he does so only as a matter either of curiosity, or of
scientific interest in the vagaries of human error.
The view that Paul’s experience on the way to Damascus
was due to some form of madness has been widely main-
tained in recent years. It is tacitly held by many who
would shrink from explicitly formulating it to their own
mind. It is openly and resolutely declared by many
learned and honest men. Scientific investigators have
discussed and given a name to the precise class of madness
to which Paul’s delusions must be assigned.
Now there have been many madmen in all times ; but
the difficulty which many feel in classing St. Paul among
them arises from the fact that not merely did he persuade
every one who heard him that he was sane and spoke the
truth, but that also he has moved the world, changed the
whole course of history, and made us what we are. Is the
world moved at the word of a lunatic? To think so
would be to abandon all belief in the existence of order
and unity in the world and in history; and therefore we
are driven to the conclusion that St. Paul’s vision is one of
the things about which evidence ought to be scrutinised
and examined without any foregone conclusion in one’s
mind.
Further, it is part of our view that the Divine nature, if
it is really existent in our world, must in some way come
into relation to man, and affect mankind. The Divine
nature is not existent for man, except in so far as he can
hope and strive to come into direct relation with it. If he
cannot hope to do so, then the Divine nature belongs only
to another world, and has no reality, no existence in ours.
What is God to us if we cannot come into knowledge of
12 f

or relation with Him? Either you must say that we
know nothing about the existence of any God, or you
must admit that man can in some way become aware of
the existence, i.e. the nature, of God. Now to say that we
can become aware of the nature of God is only another
way of saying that the Divine nature is revealed to man;
and, if it is revealed, that can only be because it reveals
itself by coming into direct relation to man. There is
nothing that can reveal God except Himself.
It must, therefore, be true that God reveals Himself to
man in some way or other. St. Paul claims to have re-
ceived such revelation ; and we ought not to set aside his
claim as irrational and necessarily false. Many such claims
can easily be put away; but history has decided that his
case is one which deserves scrutiny, examination, rigid
testing.
St. Paul also claims to have received this revelation in
an eminent and unusual degree: in other words, that he
was more sensitive to, and more able to learn about, the
Divine nature than others.
This claim also is one that deserves to be carefully
scrutinised with an open mind. If we admit that the
Divine nature reveals itself to men, then there must be
inequality and variety in the revelation to different indivi-
duals. There is no equality or uniformity in nature.
It is not involved in our view that we must be able to
explain clearly in scientific detail exactly what takes place
in such a revelation, and by what precise process an indi-
vidual man becomes cognizant of the Divine nature and
purpose. There are powers of acquiring knowledge which
are an unintelligible mystery to those who have not pos-
sessed and exercised them; and this is a case in which
Shall we Hear Evidence 02/ N02’ ? 13

possession implies exercise, and only exists in virtue of
being exercised.
\xVho can gauge, or understand, or describe, the way in
which a great mathematical genius hurries on in his sweep
of reasoning with easy, unerring rapidity? Even when
his reasoning is afterwards explained in detail, few are
capable of being educated up to the comprehension of it.
To him it is far easier to move on from step to step in his
reasoning about the forces that act in the world than to
explain his steps so as to bring them within the compre-
hension even of the few who can be educated to understand.
His demonstration of his process of reasoning would be, to
all but a handful of exceptional persons, an unintelligible
jargon, having no more reality or sense than the ravings
of a madman. But to him those words and signs, so mean-
ingless to others, present a vision of order and beauty, of
reality and symmetry, which changes the whole aspect and
nature of the universe in his thought, and enables him
or his successors to understand and direct its forces, and to
affect profoundly the life and fortunes of mankind.
Why should we doubt, or hesitate to admit, that there
may be even greater differences between different men
as regards their power of coming into relation with, and
comprehending, the Divine nature, than there is in power
of comprehending mathematical truth? Yet all men have
some little power of comprehending mathematical reason-
ing, and similarly all are endowed with some rudimentary
power of attaining a knowledge of the Divine nature.
And in both cases, from want of exercise, want of de-
sire, sluggishness, or idleness, the endowment of power may
remain undeveloped, and apparently non-existent.
When we speak about recognising the truth of those
14 [

great processes of mathematical reasoning which were
alluded to, there are two totally different ways and kinds
of recognition. The discoverer himself recognises intui-
tively, but the world takes him on credit: it recognises
by faith. This is a case where we believe without under-
standing. Though we cannot attain anything beyond the
vaguest and most rudimentary understanding of what the
discoverer has seen and of the way in which he can perceive
it, yet we believe unquestioningly and unhesitatingly that
he has comprehended a department of external nature
which we cannot comprehend.
Now the reason why in that case we believe without
understanding and through mere faith is partly because
we recognise in him the spirit of truth—we perceive that
the man has no reason to deceive us, that his whole credit
and in a sense his life is staked on his truth and accuracy—
we feel, and all men recognise unhesitatingly, that his is a
truthful mind, and one can see the joy and the conscious-
ness of knowledge glorifying and irradiating his personality
—-and partly because we see the results of the knowledge
which he has gained : we believe in his knowledge because
it manifests itself in power.
But the original discoverer recognises intuitively and
unerringly the truth of his reasoning. To know when
one’s reasoning is correct is the foundation of mathematical
endowment. One sees and feels it, and one cannot shake
off the knowledge or free oneself from it. Galileo might,
under compulsion, pretend to acknowledge that the earth
does not move, but he could not get rid of the knowledge
that, in spite of all pretences and confessions, still it does
move. This absolute consciousness of knowledge domin-
ates the mind that possesses it, and drives the man on in
Sim/Z ‘we Hear Evidence 07/ N05? 15

his career. He must think: he must experiment and test
his knowledge in practice, and the test is whether his
reasoning realises itself in actual power.
Surely the same principles of belief may fairly and
reasonably be applied in respect of the comprehension and
discovery of the Divine nature and will nd purpose.
To come into direct relation with the Divine nature,
what is that except to make a step in the appreciation of
the truth that underlies the visible and sensual phenomena,
to get a glimpse of the eternal value of things, to see them
as they are in reality, not as they appear to the mere
individual observation from the purely individual stand-
point? Man cannot easily rise above his own selfish and
narrow point of view, and in the hurry and pressure of
common life he can hardly do so at all; yet he is
not quite so sunk that moments,
Sure, though seldom, are denied him,
When the spirits true endowments
Stand out plainly from its false ones,
And apprise it if pursuing,
Or the right way or the wrong way,
To its triumph or undoing.
Such moments do not come in the same way, or amid
the same surroundings, to all men. The accompaniments
are special to the individual. A man can become possessed
of knowledge only in such way as he is capable of receiving
it, and that is a matter of his habits and education and
surroundings.
One who has learned almost entirely through the senses,
who lives by reliance on sight and hearing, cannot learn,
and could not believe, anything except what comes to him
through those senses, or rather is associated with impres-
sions of the senses. The thought is, of course, distinct
16 [

from the impressions, but it comes with them and seems to
come through them, and the reality of the experience lies
not in the impressions on the senses, but in the sudden
consciousness of the Divine nature animating the World, in
which hitherto the man was aware only of the objects that
touched his senses.
To one who is accustomed to gain knowledge by con-
templation and thought, the revelation of the Divine nature
will come through contemplation and thought. Such a one
does not connect truth with sense-impressions; rather he
distrusts these, knowing that they are mere shadows which
his own personality casts on the world, and that reality
does not lie that way.
But in either case the perception of the Divine truth is
ultimate, final and convincing. He who has seen knows.
And he can never again lose the knowledge, nor live
unhesitatingly the free unconscious life of previous days.
The consciousness of the Divine nature becomes a power
within him, driving him on to his destiny, good or evil.
The question whether the physical sensations which are
sometimes associated with the perception are real is obvi-
ously a superficial and unintelligent one. What sensation
is real?
Take here the individual instance. What can we learn
from the case of St. Paul, admitting for the moment that
he acquired higher and better knowledge of God in those
revelations of which he speaks. Those who were with
him near Damascus had a vague idea that something was
taking place; they were aware of light, and even of sound,
but they did not hear any words, nor were they affected
in any noteworthy way. Had Paul died there, no one
would have known that anything remarkable had occurred.
Shall we Heme Evidence 01/ Noe‘ P 17

Such is the clear and unmistakable account in which Paul
and Luke agree, though there are some trifling differences
between them about details.
On the one hand, it is plain that Paul’s companions did
not see what he saw. On the other hand, it is equally
plain that they learned nothing there, whereas Paul ob-
tained an insight into truth and reality which revolutionised
his aims and changed the world’s history. If the test of
reality lies in the capacity of all sentient beings to experi-
ence the same sensations when placed in the same position,
then Paul’s sensations were not real. But is that a fair
test? Are there not phenomena in the world where that
test fails? Are there not more things in the world than
those which everybody can see and hear? Is this not one
of the things which we may and must take on credit and
believe without understanding? The question is surely
worth putting and carefully considering in the light of
Paul’s whole career.
There is nothing but scholastic pedantry in debating the
question as to the reality of Paul’s sensations of sight and
hearing on that occasion. There is no standard accepted
by the opposing parties, there is no agreement as to the
meaning of the terms; each side discusses with its mind
made up beforehand, and its eyes closed to the intention of
its opponents. There can be no issue and no result; the
question is as barren as that older question about the
number of angels who can stand on the point ofa needle.
The problem should be approached otherwise.
The lesson which Saul had to learn before he could make
any progress in knowledge of the Divine nature was that
the actual J'esus of recent notoriety in Palestine—the jesus
whom he had seen and known, as I believe—was still
2
18 1

living, and not, as he had fancied, dead. His was not a
soul disciplined, eager to learn, ready to obey. It was a
soul firm in its own false opinion—not even possessed of
“true opinion”--resolute and hardened in perfect self-
satisfaction, proud of what it believed to be its know-
ledge, strong in its high principle and its sense of duty.
There was no possibility that he should by any process of
mere thinking come to realise the truth. Nothing could
appeal to him in this question except through the senses
of hearing and sight.‘
Such we see to be the general conditions of the situation.
St. Paul tells us the result. He heard, he saw, he was
convinced, he was a witness to the world that the Jesus
who had lived and been crucified was still living. But
those who were with him did not learn, did not see, did
not hear. They were not capable of gaining the know-
ledge which Saul acquired, nor should we be capable if we
could be put in the same situation now. They were not,
and we are not, able to respond as Saul was to the impulse
of the Divine nature. The same experience would not
convince them or us. Saul knew that this was Jesus, and
his plans of life, his aspirations after the Divine life, his
conceptions of the possibilities of work in the existing
condition of the world, his longing for the Messiah who
was to make Judaism the conquering faith of the civilised
world, his whole fabric of thought and religion and belief,
were in such a position that this sudden perception of the
truth about Jesus recreated and invigorated all his mental
and moral frame.
That perception, then, was the real part of the expe-
rience which came to Saul. But that perception could not
be gained by him except in a certain way, with certain
Shall we Hear Evidence on Not P to

physical accompaniments and certain affection of the
senses, and those accompaniments acquire reality from
being the vehicle of a real perception of truth in one
special and peculiar case.
That brief experience in which Saul learned so much
was the outcome of his whole past career, the crystallisa-
tion into a new form of all the loose elements of will and
thought and emotion which his life and education had
given him, under the impulse of the sudden imparting to
his mind of the decisive factor; and the physical accom-
paniments conveyed the spark or the impulse which set the
process in motion.
If then it be asserted that the sensations which Paul
experienced were in themselves a necessary part of the
knowledge which he acquired, one must denounce the
assertion as false and irrational. The sensations were only
a proof of the, weakness of nature, the insensibility to
purer and higher ways of acquiring truth, in which Paul
was as yet involved: they were the measure of his ignor-
ance, not the necessary vehicle of his knowledge. As he
became more sensitive to the Divine nature, and more
capable of apprehending the Divine message, he rose su-
perior to the grosser method of communication through the
senses.
That St. Paul was conscious of a growth and elevation
of his own powers of perception in regard to the Divine
nature seems implied clearly in 2 Corinthians v. 16, even
though we have lenown Christ after the flesh, yet now we
know Him so no more.
Standing on this point of view one sees that the varia-
tion between Luke (these men, hearingr a voice, hnt seeing
no man, Acts ix. 7) and Paul (they saw indeed the light,
20 1

out keard not tke voice, Acts xxii. 9) with regard to the
degree to which Paul’s sensations were shared in by his
companions, stamps the sensations as being accidental
and secondary, the encumbrances rather than an essential
accompaniment of his perception of truth.
So also the older disciples learned the truth through sight
and hearing; they had known the Man, and they must hear
and see before they could realise that He was not dead.
But there is in the mind of the Evangelist who saw and
heard a consciousness that those sensations are mere
accidents of the individual, personally incidental to their
peculiar experience and condition, merely ways by which
the truth was made clear to their duller minds: Because
tkon kast seen Me, t/zon least believed. Blessed are tkey
tkat kave not seen and yet leave oelieved.
What would it have meant to those companions of
Paul then, what would it mean to us now, if the informa-
tion could have been suddenly flashed on them or on us
that Jesus was living? It would mean little or nothing.
We should dine and sleep as usual. Those men would
have proceeded quietly to Damascus, and reported that
they had an odd experience by the way, but whether it was
real or a phantasm, true or untrue, they did not know.
There lies the difference. The man to whom the Divine
reveals itself recognises inevitably. He cannot doubt or
hesitate : he knows at once and for ever.
The Divine never reveals itself in vain. Or perhaps one
should rather say that the Divine is always ready to reveal
itself, but We do not perceive it except when we are in such
a state that we are convinced by it, and recognise it.
There rises to memory here a wonderful passage in T. H.
Green’s Essay on “The Philosophy of Aristotle” :—
Snell we Hear Evidence 01/ N02.‘ ? 21

“ If in any true sense man can commune with the spirit
within him, in the same he may approach God, as one
who, according to the highest Christian idea, ‘liveth in
him ’. Man however is slow to recognise the divinity that
is within himself in his relation to the world. He will
find the spit l somewhere, but cannot believe that it
is the natural rightly understood. What is under his feet
and between his hands is too cheap and trivial to be the
mask of eternal beauty. But half aware of the blindness
of sense which he confesses, he fancies that it shows him
the every-day world, from which he must turn away if he
would attain true vision. If a prophet tell him to do some
great thing, he will obey. He will draw up ‘ideal truth’
:4-11n
LLLLCI-
from the deep, or bring it down from heaven, but cannot
believe that it is within and around him. Stretching out
his hands to an unknown God, he heeds not the God in
whom he lives and moves and has his being. He cries for
a revelation of Him, yet will not be persuaded that His
hiding-place is the intelligible world, and that He is in-
carnate in the Son of Man, who through the communicated
strength of thought is Lord also of that world.”
But the human being who is to become sensitive to the
Divine presence and voice must be able to do his part.
The manifestation cannot be wholly one-sided : there must
be the proper condition of mind and body, and intellect,
and will in the man. What all the conditions are no one
can say, except perhaps one to whom the manifestation
has been granted. But one thing is sure: a certain state of
mental receptivity is needed, and a certain long preparation
of the whole nature of the recipient must have occurred.
Such preparation was, in several forms of ancient religion,
described as purification ; and formal rules were prescribed,
22 l

as regards time and rites. In such a state of things the
preparation of the mind, the emotions and the will, soon
become almost a secondary matter, and purification was
mainly ceremonial, though even in the most formal and
vulgar religious prescriptions the proper moral and mental
state was never entirely lost sight of.
But, it will be objected, when we speak of the Divine
nature as revealing itself to man through the senses, we
are introducing an element of the supernatural, and ask-
ing men to believe what no rational being can accept,
inasmuch as it is contrary to reason.
This objection is merely verbal, it shows not even a
faint glimmering conception of the real situation, it belongs
to a stage and a way of thinking that rational men ought
now to have left behind them.
If the Divine reveals itself to the human nature, the
latter must in receiving the knowledge rise above its
ordinary plane of mere individual existence, it must rise
superior to the limitations of time and space, and contem-
plate truth, and eternity, and reality. Its momentary
elevation to the plane of the Divine view is necessarily
and inevitably a superhuman fact, but why call it super-
natural? It is surely a part of the order of nature that
man should reach out towards God; if that, or anything
involved in that, is supernatural or marvellous or miracu-
lous, then everything in the life of man beyond the mere
reception of impressions and action under their stimulus,
every step in the progress of knowledge, every widening of
the outlook of man over and beyond the single successive
phenomena of the world, is equally marvellous and
supernatural. But the order of nature is that man should
strive to rise, and should succeed in rising above the level
Shall we Hear Evidence on Not? 2 3

from which he starts. Nothing in his life is real except the
advance that he makes above himself. He cannot attain
to knowledge and truth, but yet he does attain to them in
so far as he struggles a little way towards them. He
lives at all only in so far as he moves onward : stagnation
is death. All that is real is superhuman: what is 0nly
human is mere negation and unreality, the expression of
our ignorance and our remoteness from truth and know-
ledge and God.
In truth the stigmatising of anything in the revelation
to man of the Divine nature as supernatural or contrary
to reason is simply the arbitrary and unreasoning attempt
to establish that our ignorance is the real element in the
world, and to bound the possibilities of the universe by our
own acquisitions and perceptions.
The only proper attitude before such questions is that of
inquiry and of open-mindedness—surely that is a truism,
and yet it is to the so-called free and critical mind that we
have to address this remonstrance !
The investigator in every department of science and
study knows that it is half the battle to succeed in putting
the right question. In this case the right question is, What
can we learn from Paul’s experience? And not how was
Paul’s evidence falsified? nor what insanity misled him?
II
THE CHARM OF PAUL
II
THE CHARM OF PAUL
THE life and the nature of one who has influenced human
history so profoundly as St. Paul must be studied afresh
by every successive age. His character is far too wide and
all-embracing to be comprehended by the age in which he
lives and on which he exercised his immediate influence.
He is at once outside and inside it: he works on it both
from without and from within. He has caught in some
degree the eternal principles which sweep through all time,
and express themselves in momentary, passing form in each
successive age. Thus he transcends the limits of time and
speaks to all ages ; and his words will be differently under-
stood in different ages, for every age finds that they respond
to its peculiar questions. Hence every age must write
afresh for itself—one might almost say, every man must
write for himself—the life of St. Paul; and the words in
which he strove to make his thoughts comprehensible to
the raw converts, who needed to be trained in power of
thinking as well as in the elementary principles of morality
and conduct, must be rendered into the form which will be
more easily understood in present circumstances. The
attempts to do this must always be imperfect and inade-
quate, and yet they may make it easier to penetrate to the
heart which beats in all his writings. But the aim of the
(27)
28 [f

historian should always be to induce the reader to study
for himself the writings and work of St. Paul.
In venturing to lay before the readers a study of that
character, it is not necessary to claim, in justification of the
attempt, peculiar qualifications or insight: it is a sufficient
excuse, if one can claim to be putting the same questions
that others are putting, and to be one among many students
animated by a similar spirit and the same needs.
In the case of St. Paul most readers are already familiar
with the events of his life, with the original authorities on
which every biographer and student must depend, and with
some modern presentation of the facts. But opinion has
varied much in recent years as regards the bearing of
these facts, and the estimate which should be set on them
as indications of the character and aims of the Apostle.
Hence, in the present state of the subject, the most im-
portant feature of a new study of his career consists in the
general interpretation which is to be placed on the facts,
and in the spirit with which the work is undertaken; and
it is advisable for the writer in the outset to make clear his
general attitude towards the critical points on which the
difference in opinion turns.
The fascination of St. Paul’s personality lies in his
humanity. He is the most human of all the Apostles.
That he was in many ways the ablest and the greatest,
the most creative mind, the boldest originator, the most
skilful organiser and administrator, the most impressive
and outstanding personage in the whole Apostolic circle-—
that will be admitted by most readers. That he was the
most clever and the most brilliant of the Apostles every
one must feel. But all that might be granted, Without
bringing us any nearer an explanation of the undying
T he Cnczwn of Paul 29

interest and charm he possesses for us. Those are not the
qualities which make a man really interesting, which catch
the heart of the world as Paul has caught it. The clever
man is, on the whole, rather repellent to the mass of man-
kind, though he will find his own circle of friends who can
at once admire his ability and penetrate to the real nature
underneath his cleverness. But St. Paul lies closer to the
heart of the great mass of readers than any other of the
Apostles ; and the reason is that he impresses us as the most
intensely human of them all.
The career of St. Paul can easily and truthfully be de-
scribed as a series of brilliant achievements and marvel-
lous successes. But it is not through his achievements and
his success that he has seized and possessed the hearts of
men. It is because behind the achievements we can see the
trials and the failures. To others his life might seem like
the triumphal progress of a conqueror. But we can look
through his eyes and watch the toil and the stress ; we can
see him always on the point of failure, always guarding
against the ceaseless dangers that threatened him, pressed
on every side, yez‘ noz‘ sc‘miz‘ened, perplexed Zinc ncz‘ in despair,
persecuted Zinc noz‘fonsccken, casz‘ down, [ml nec‘ desz‘reyed.
We follow his fortunes with the keenest interest, because
we feel that he was thoroughly representative of the eager,
strenuous, toiling man, and his career was full of situations
and difficulties such as the ordinary man has to face in the
world. The life of St. Paul, as it stands before us in his
letters and his biography, was one constant struggle against
difficult circumstances. He was always suspected, always
misunderstood, by some; and he always found a friend to
stand by him in his difficulties, to believe in him in spite
of appearances, and to be his champion and guarantee.
30 - [I

That is the daily lot of the men who work, of all who try
to do anything good or great, of all men who strive
towards an ideal of any kind, in patriotism, or in loyalty,
of in honour, or in religion; and it is only such men who
are interested in the life of Paul. They must be prepared
to face misconception, suspicion, blame greater than they
deserve; and they may hope to find in every case some
friend such as Paul always found.
The description of his first entry into the Christian world
of Jerusalem is typical. When he was come to ferasalem,
he assayed to join himself to the disciples ,- hat they were all
afraid of him, and helz'eved not that he was a disciple. Bat
Barhahas teoh him and hmaght him to the Apostles, and
declared unto them haw he had seen the Lord z'h the way.
. . . And he was with them eemz'ng and gez'hg out of
ferasaleve. . . . And he disputed against the Hellem'st fews ,-
hut they went ahout to slay him. All the rest of his career
is similar to that. His past life, with its passions and its
struggles, its attempts and its failures, always impeded him
in every new enterprise. No one could deliver him from
this hody of death.
We see, too, that—as is the case with all men—his
difficulties and his failures almost always were the result of
his own nature. It was his own faults and errors that
caused the misconceptions and suspicions, by which he was
continually pressed and perplexed. In the intense enthu-
siasm of his nature he often failed to recognise the proper
limitations, and erred in the way of overstraining the present
emotion. He was carried too far in act and in word ; and
at a later moment he became conscious that he had been
over-enthusiastic, and had not been sufficiently mindful of
all the complex conditions.
The Charm of Paul 31

When we say that he failed to recognise the proper
limitations, we feel that the phrase is unsatisfactory; and
we must try to express what we aim at in another way.
Let us compare him with the greatest of his contempo-
raries, the Apostles John and Peter. When we are in
contact with them, at least in their later life, we are
impressed always with the completeness of statement
and the perfectness of vision that are implied in everything
recorded of them. They had lived in company with Him
who, in a sense far truer than Matthew Arnold meant,
saw life steadily and saw it whole;
and they had caught from Him something of that faculty
of calm steady completeness of vision.
In all the words of Jesus the reader is impressed with
that completeness of statement: the truth stands there
whole and entire. You never require to look at the lan-
guage from some special point of view, to make allowances
for the circumstances and the intention of the speaker,
before you recognise the truth of the words. You do not
feel that there are other justifiable points of view which
are left out of account, and that from those points the say-
ing must be considered inadequate. The word is never
one-sided.
Take any one of the sayings, such as, Render nnto
Cdsar the things that are Ccesar’s, and unto God the things
that are God’s, or Wisdom is j'nstified of all her children,
or The Son of Man is Lord of the Sahhath. Each of
them is a complete and rounded whole, perfect from every
point of view. There is nothing more to be said. The
true commentator may expound laboriously from various
points of view the truth of those matchless expressions,
32 [I

and thereby render a real service to the reader. You must
look at each saying first in one light, then in another,
analyse it, explain it, and you will better appreciate all
that lies in it ; but you cannot add to it, or make it more
complete than it is. It stands there once for all. It is
the final statement.
Something of that perfection of vision and of expression
—-that calm serene insight into the essential truth beneath
the flow and change of things—that power of contemplat-
ing the world upon the plane of eternity—had passed into
the mind of John and of Peter. Their acts and their words
alike are on that plane of perfectness and finality. Their
words were so, because their life and minds were so. We
cannot knt speak tke tkings wkick we saw and keard. They
had looked on the Truth: they had lived with the Truth.
Never again could they live on the plane of ordinary
humanity or see things exactly as men see them, for they
had gazed upon eternity, and the glory was always in their
eyes.
Something too of the same steadiness and completeness
of vision belongs, and must belong, to the great prophets of
the world. They were prophets because they had come
into relations with the Divine nature and had seen the
Truth. They too could not but speak the things which
they had seen and heard.
Let us try another illustration—a modern one, drawn
from Hegel’s brief essay, entitled Who is the abstract
thinker? in which he distinguishes the analytic method
of scientific and abstract reasoning from the direct con-
templation of the concrete truth of the eternal world. The
great German philosopher in a few sentences hits off the
various points of view from which a murderer on the
The Charrn of Paul 33

scaffold is regarded by different persons.1 The sociologists
trace the conditions of society and education that led him
to his crime: the moralists or the priests make him the
text of a sermon on the corruption of the class to which he
belongs. They see the murderer: they have no eyes for
the man as part of the eternal world, as an item in ‘the
Divine plan. Sentimental ladies, as they look on, are
struck with his handsome and interesting figure: they see
another side, and there they are content: if they do not
perhaps carry their words of admiration into action by
throwing flowers to him on the scaffold. But one person,
a poor old woman in the crowd, beheld the scene as a
whole, as an act in the drama of eternity: The severed
head was laid 0n the scaflold ; and chere was sunshine. “En!
how heaicz‘ifnlly,” said she, “ does Gcd’s sun 0]‘ grace lighten
up his head!” The most conceinpz‘zceas word we can use
in anger is, “ You are noc werc‘h z‘he sun shining on you”.
The woman saw the sun shining on the nncrderer’s head,
and knew z‘hac he was sc‘ill worth seinez‘hing in z‘he eye
of Gad. She uttered in a flash of intuition a whole
concrete truth, while the learned, the educated, and the
fashionable world saw only one side or another, abstract
and incomplete.
Now with Paul we feel ourselves in contact with a more
simply human character than when we study the great
Apostles john and Peter. It is not that he never moves
and thinks and speaks on the plane of eternity. He often
stands, or almost stands upon it, and sees accordingly.
But he does not live on it. He only strives towards it.
1 Vermischte Schrz'ften, ii., p. 403 (Werke, v01. xvii.). A fine page in
the late Prof. Wallace’s Logic of Hegel (Proleg. Ixxix.) directed my attention
to it in undergraduate days, and fixed it in my mind for ever.
3
34 If

He is the typical, the representative man, who attains in
moments of higher vision and inspiration to behold the
truth, to commune with the Divine nature. He has, too,
far more of such visions than other men. They are the
greatest glory of his life, in which he might reasonably take
pride.
But one feels that with Paul the vision lasted no long
time. It was present with him only for a moment; and
then he was once more on the level of humanity.
Yet that, after all, is why Paul is so close to us. We too
can sometimes attain to a momentary glimpse of Truth
when the veil seems for an instant to be withdrawn from
her face ;
I will go forward, sayest thou,
I shall not fail to find her now ;
Look up, the fold is on her brow.
Throughout his life, we have to study Paul in this spirit.
He sees like a man. He sees one side at a time. He
emphasises that—not indeed more than it deserves—but
in a way that is open to misconception, because he expresses
the side of the case which he has in view, and expects the
audience to catch his enthusiasm, to sympathise with his
point of view, to supply for themselves the qualifications
and the conditions and the reservations which are necessary
in the concrete facts of actual life.
Alike in his acts and his words we notice the same
tendency. When, after the agreement with the Judaic party
in the Church, he went out on his second journey, he was
ready, in his unhesitating and hearty acceptance of the
arrangement, to do a very great deal in compliance with
the Jew’s natural and not unjustifiable prejudices. He
even made the half-Jew Timothy comply with the Jewish
The Charm of Paul 3 5

law. No act of his whole life is more difficult to sympathise
with: none cost him dearer. It was misunderstood by his
own Galatian converts, as Bishop Lightfoot well explains;
and the Epistle which he afterwards addressed to them was
intended to bring home to them the whole truth respecting
their position in the Church. But, as his act had given
dangerous emphasis to one side of the case, the Epistle
can restore the equilibrium and give concreteness and
wholeness to the truth only by emphasising the other side.
We on our part have to keep the two sides in mind in
estimating the historical situation; and we must both take
into consideration the later words when we judge the act
as an indication of Paul’s mind, and remember the earlier
act when we estimate the meaning of certain very strong
statements in the Epistle, such as if ye receive circumcision,
Christ will profit you nothing, or ye are severed from
Christ, ye who would he jnstified hy the Law. Those
words are one-sided, and not the whole many-sided truth.
They are over-strained ; and it needs much sympathy, and
much allowance for the unexpressed but necessary con-
ditions, in order to read in them the Pauline gospel.
Similarly, time after time, we find in the Epistles that
Paul has laid himself open to misconstruction in the minds
of his converts by emphasising one side of the case, and
has to give completeness to his teaching by stating another
aspect. For example, he had written to the Corinthians,
forbidding them in too general terms to come into social
relations with immoral persons; but he feels afterwards
that this, taken literally, would be equivalent to an order
to go out of the world and to cut themselves off absolutely
from the city in which they lived, inasmuch as all pagan
society was maintained on an immoral basis; and therefore
36 [I

A
conditions and qualifications and explanations have to be
added in I Cor. v. 9-13. The first message was not a
complete and perfect truth: it was a law that needed a
supplement and a restriction.
Again the second letter to the people of Thessalonica is
to a great extent an attempt to guard against a miscon-
ception of his teaching; and the misconception was evi-
dently due to the strong emphasis which he had laid on
such ideas as the coming of the Kingdom.
But that is the way of mankind. If we would do any-
thing we must strive and struggle along the difficult path
of the world, making mistakes often, over-emphasising
often the side which we see, afterwards correcting our
errors, completing our deficiencies; and worn out at last
and spent with the heat and dust and fatigue of the toil-
some road, we may need a friendly voice to tell us that
we have not worked in vain, while we are ourselves too
conscious of the failures to have any sense of the actual
measure of achievement. In the life of Paul we read the
life of man; and thus his story never grows old and never
loses its fascination.
But the human character alone, even in conjunction with
his great achievements, is not sufficient to explain the fas-
cination that St. Paul exerts on us. I should not reckon
even his power of sympathising with and understanding
the nature and needs of his followers in so many different
lands as furnishing the full explanation. The reason seems
to lie in that combination of qualities which made him re-
presentative of human nature at its best: intensely human
in his undeniable faults, he shows a real nobility and lofti-
ness of spirit in which every man recognises his own best
self.
The Charm of Paul 37 '

The part which he had to play in Christian society was
a difficult one. He came into it much junior in standing
and inferior in influence to all the great men of the com-
pany. Yet he was conscious that in insight, in practical
sense, in power of directing the development of their young
Society, he Was superior to them. He saw what ‘they did
not at first recognise, the true line of development for their
cause. He carried them with him, as their defaci‘o leader.
He had on one occasion to rebuke for his wavering and in-
consistent conduct the one who at first had been the most
enterprising and directing spirit among them. Moreover,
he was of higher rank among his own people, sprung from
an influential family which could not be ignored even in
Jerusalem, marked out from youth as a person of conse-
quence by his education and ability and energy, taking a
prominent part among the leaders of his people from the
day that he entered on public life. Finally, he was in all
probability older than several, perhaps even than many of
the Apostles.
All these causes conspired to render the position of Paul
among the Christians of jerusalem a very delicate one.
Only the most perfect courtesy and respect for the rights
and feelings of others, founded on the truest self-respect,
could have carried him safely through the difficulties of the
situation. He dared not yield to them, or sink his own
personality in respect for their well-deserved authority, for
he was strong in the mandate of revelation. Yet he would
forfeit our love and respect if he ever obtruded his policy
and his claims on them, or failed in the respect and rever-
ence which was due from a neophyte to those whose eyes
and minds were quickened with the glory of long com-
munion with Jesus.
38 [Z

In that difficult situation the world of readers and thinkers
has decided that Paul never seriously erred. He never
failed in reverence to the great men, and he never failed in
the courage and self-reliance needed to press his policy on
their joint councils. That is why we are still under his
fascination, just as much as those who beheld his face and
listened to his words and thought it was an angel that
spoke. He stands before us not merely as a representative
of simple human nature, but also as typical of the highest
and best in human nature. We never understand him
rightly, unless we conceive his action on the highest plane
that mere humanity is capable of occupying.
It must be acknowledged that this description of St.
Paul’s relations to the older Apostles is very different from
that which is commonly given by modern scholars. In the
pages of most of them we find the picture of Paul as a man
actuated always by jealousy of the great Apostles, continu-
ally trying to undermine their authority and to set himself
in their place, driven on by the feeling that he could prove
his own position only by picking faults in and criticising
his seniors, and that he could rise in the Church only by
getting them turned out of their place. They set him
before us as ambitious, envious, almost selfish, a carping
critic of others, yet not himself always very scrupulous in his
methods, the least lovable and the most unlovely character
in early Christian history. This picture is most character-
istic of what is wrongly called the “critical” school, but is
far from being confined to it, for the most extreme example
is found in a Study of St. Paul, which takes the most
“ orthodox” view in all matters of criticism (Art. XIII).
The view which we take, then, is open to the charge of
being old-fashioned, because it was held by the men and
The Charm of Paul 39

women of an older time; and there is a prejudice against
a view which, like this, is most characteristic of an older
generation and has been rejected by many learned and
highly respected scholars in more recent times, a view
which is distinctly less fashionable among those of the
younger generation who most pride themselves on their
open-mindedness and freedom from prejudice.
In Scotland, particularly, many of us remember the light
in which Paul was held up to us in our childhood : to our
mothers Paul was not a mere name in a book, but a real
man held up before us as a model to imitate. He, more
than any other character in the New Testament, was con-
sidered as the embodiment in actual life of the qualities
that made the true “gentleman ” (to use the old-fashioned
term in the old-fashioned senseJ—loftiness of motive, the
abnegation of self under the influence of nobler considera-
tions, the tendency to look at all things in life from a
generous point of view, the frankness to speak out straight
and emphatically against wrong doing and wrong thinking,
combined with that courtesy, that delicate consideration for
the feelings of others, that instinctive and inevitable respect
for others which rise from true respect for self.
It may be considered by some that the greater space
which St. Paul fills in the pages of the New Testament
explains the reason why he bulked so much more largely
in the estimation of our parents; but this is a superficial
way of judging. Paul occupies this space in the original
authorities because of his personal qualities and historical
importance; and the older generation, which thought so
highly of him, had a very sound and healthy appreciation
of the character and personality of the various figures
whose action is set before us in the New Testament.
40 [I

That old-fashioned view was held in an Old-fashioned
way. There were scenes and events in Paul’s life which
were acknowledged to be difficult to understand ; but then
the difficulty was met by a plain confession of inability to
fully comprehend the situation and the reason why Paul
acted as he did. It was in such cases considered sufficient
to say, that the position of affairs was obscure, and the
motives involved were complex and difficult to understand
fully, but that Paul could not fall below the standard of
his own nature : “ once a gentleman, always a gentleman : ”
and that there must be an explanation of his motives and
conduct which was true to his character, and no explanation
that was not could be correct.
But, as is natural and right, men cannot remain contented
to set aside in that way parts of the life of Paul as too
difficult to understand. The robust and simple faith that
there must be an explanation which conforms to that lofty
conception of his character is not sufficient for the historian
and the biographer: it is their duty to understand and to
explain.
The idea was a natural one, deserving of careful examina-
tion, that the difficulty in regard to those parts and incidents
in the life of St. Paul arose from the incorrectness of the
general estimate put upon his character. It is quite true
that it is the difficulties which are most instructive ; and that
on them the attention of the investigator must especially
be concentrated. Thus arose the theory, that the standard
of judgment must be taken from the great, yet as it seemed
difficult, scene in which St. Paul was brought into direct
relations with the older Apostles ; that scene was universally
understood to be described by St. Paul himself in writing
to the Galatians, chap. ii., and also by the historian in the
The Charm of Paul 41

Acts, chap. xv.: the obvious and undeniable differences
between the two accounts, as regards both facts and still
more, spirit, were accounted for by the theory that there
was something to conceal, and that each account omitted
something that the other recounted, and that the full story
could only he got by uniting the two narratives.
The innuendo here lies in the idea that there was some-
thing to conceal ; and this was worked out in a remorseless
and rigorous train of inference throughout not only that
scene, but the whole of St. Paul’s later life. The thought in
the investigator’s mind at every point was of this supposed
concealment: his aim at every point was to disclose the
latent facts which the narrator had been ashamed to make
public. This was a canker that vitiated the whole investi-
gation. The conclusion was imported by the investigator
at the outset ; and was therefore easily established at every
point, as the method was simply to insert the lacking
element, which had been omitted by the narrator.
That method of writing history is a seductive, though a
dangerous one. It gives infinite scope for ingenuity, bril-
liant suggestion and feats of skill. The reader is dazzled
by the blaze of artificial fire, with which each scene is illu-
mined, and by which the strongest and deepest shadows
are thrown on the facts, in picturesque but distorting effects.
But life is lived, and history should be studied, not in lime-
light but in the light of day.
The application of that method to the New Testament
was at first mainly the work of the Tubingen school of
critics ; and from that school there has sprung a whole class
of theories differing in many details, but agreeing in the
general principle that the books of the New Testament were
mostly or entirely forgeries of a later age, composed not
42 f]

with a view to set forth the simple truth but with the in-
tention of inculcating certain views and doctrinal opinions
held by the writers in common with the particular party
or section of the Christian Church to which each belonged.
The Tiibingen school did not confine their demonstration
of their method to New Testament history. They used it
elsewhere, as, e.g., in Schwegler’s History ofRovze; and the
issue is manifest. Not merely has it been rejected by
other scholars on the ground of being merely theoretical
and imaginative, it has been disproved, root and branch, in
idea and in method and in results, by the progress of dis-
covery.
The reply to the Tiibingen theories for a long time
took the form of denying that any discrepancies existed
between the accounts in Gal. ii. and Acts xv. ; and many
laboured demonstrations of that kind were published. The
ordinary student could not rest satisfied with this: he felt
the discrepancies. We know now that Gal. ii. and Acts
xv. describe two different events, and that discrepancies are
natural.
Then the young student was placed in a serious dilemma,
between two classes of teachers. The one class as a rule
took a nobler and more generous view of Paul; but they
failed to apply their theory logically and convincingly to
the details; and their solution could only repel the logical
mind, and therefore strengthened the position of the oppos-
ing school. One seemed always driven back to the skilful
logic of the Tubingen theorists, who carried their readers
on in an unerring train of inference from their first as-
sumptions: the discrepancies were due to the attempt to
conceal facts that were discreditable.
Yet those Tubingen theorists were involved in an equally
The Charm of Paul 43

serious difficulty. When one faced the practical facts of
history and life, one could find no answer to the question
how that Paul whom they imagined could achieve what
he did. How was he able to move the hearts of men
and touch their feelings? His work is simply unintelli-
gible unless we assume that he had a boundless pow r of
sympathising with others and taking them to himself, such
as is inconsistent with censorious, self-seeking ambition.
When one sought the answer to these questions, one found
that every critic was at variance with himself. In one
page they recognised in Paul the qualities which in another
they denied him. It was never possible to find a man in
the critics’ Paul. They set before their readers no unity
or reality, but a many-natured bundle of qualities like
Frankcnstein’s artificial man. While the critics praised
Paul in the general view, and admired his marvellous
influence, they had little but blame for him in detail ; their
admiration seemed only theoretical, but, whenever it came
to a question of fact or action, it was only faults in him
that they saw and emphasised.
But the student who has too exclusive an acquaintance
with theories and too little practical experience of life does
not easily realise how essentially self-contradictory and
impossible that conception of Paul is: one who lives with
shadows y’or his company instead of men and women, who
knows books, not the facts of life or the natural development
of human conduct, can easily be blind to the inconsistency,
or, if dimly conscious of it, can yet keep his eyes shut. This
weakness of judgment is intensified by a deep-seated vice
in the modern methods of scholarship.
The student finds that there is so much to learn that he
rarely has time even to begin to know. It is inexorably
44 if

required of him that he shall be familiar with the opinions
of many teachers dead and living, and it is not often
sufficiently impressed on him that mere ability to set forth
in fluent and polished language the thoughts of others—
assuming that he can acquire that power at which he aims,
and towards which he struggles with all his energy--is not
real “knowledge”. He does not learn that learning must
be thought out afresh by him from first principles, and tested
in actual experience, before it becomes really his own. In
Plato’s words, he gets at college much “true opinion ” (let
us hope not “ false opinion”), but little “knowledge”. He
must live his opinions before they become knowledge, and
he is fortunate if he is not compelled prematurely to express
them too frequently and too publicly, so that they become
hardened and fixed before he has had the opportunity of
trying them and moulding them in real life and experience.
Yet, if one’s experiences are not too unfavourable to
permit due growth, if one is not too soon hardened by pre-
mature success or any other cause into perfect self-satisfaction
and contentment, one must gradually become convinced that
the Paul of real life was a very different character from the
theorist’s Paul; and the man who gradually takes form
before one’s mind, in the vivid comprehension of his
words and actions, is (as one then finds) the same Paul
whom the author of Acts had in his view. Then one
recognises and knows, absolutely and irresistibly and for
ever, that Luke had known the man, had been his friend
and confidant and coadjutor, and was not an impostor of
the second century who was wholly dependent on written
sources of information, which he barely understood and
frequently mangled. Thus Paul and Luke stand together.
If the theorist’s Paul be the true one, then the writer of
The Charm of Panl 45

Acts had never known him, for he describes a different
person—the generous and lovable Paul. But when you
think of this other Paul, then you feel the deep, intimate,
personal love and admiration that Luke entertained for
him, giving life and reality to every sentence that he writes.
Thus after all one comes back to the old-fashioned view,
but not in the old-fashioned way. One has acquired also
the virtues of modern scholarship, the resolution to be slave
to no authority, to test every opinion, and never to remain
contented in the presence of any difficulty. One is resolved
to understand Paul’s action throughout, and not to rest
content with the assumptions in which general opinion
has acquiesced. Then one learns that current conceptions
must be corrected in important respects, and that, when
the needed corrections are made, the difficulties turn out
to be due to errors in regard to the general framework
and surroundings amid which Paul’s work was done. In
the belief that most of the difficulties are thus solved, the
following Study of the practical life, the Statesmanship, of
Paul is written.
III
THE STATESMANSHIP OF PAUL






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III
THE STATESMANSHIP OF PAUL
TO the scholars of the “Tiibingen School” belongs the
credit of inaugurating, as a practical reality, the free, un-
biased study of early Christian history, with the single aim
of reaching the truth, instead of assuming it. But from
this splendid merit much must be detracted, when we ob-
serve how they carried out their attempt. In a task which
demanded intimate familiarity with the life and spirit of the
Roman Empire, they showed a singular absence of special
knowledge (combined with unhesitating confidence in the
perfection of their knowledge), and an extraordinary in-
capacity to gauge the proper meaning of a Greek or Latin
paragraph. Thus they evolved a history of early Christian
times which was in contradiction to many of the authorities
whom they quoted and misunderstood.
It was a great thing to substitute freedom of spirit for
blind following of authority; but we shall do away with all
the value of their teaching if we allow the glamour of a
modern to be substituted for the sacredness of an ancient
authority. If we remain true to the spirit which impelled
them, disregarding authority and seeking only for truth, we
must set them aside and start anew. And, above all, we
shall rebel against the tyrannous spirit of their pupils, who
in the name of freedom would stifle investigation, and limit
(49) 4
50 [[f

by a priori rules the conclusions which a scholar may ex-
press as the result of his studies.
Especially in the case of the Apostle Paul, subsequent
scholars have been too much under the spell of that school,
and even those who recognised that the Tubingen opinions
were incorrect, too readily admitted that the mistake lay
only in pressing too far a correct method, whereas, in reality,
the premises were erroneous and fictitious. We believe
that a seriously incorrect picture of that great man has
been commonly set before the world by modern scholars;
and we would venture to plead for a reconsideration of
the case.
We shall treat our subject as an episode in Roman
history. It is, of course, impossible to ignore the religious
aspect of any Pauline question, but so far as possible we
concentrate attention on the work of Paul as a social in-
fluence on the Roman world.
I
In the first century of our era the Mediterranean world
was full of the mixing and clashing of nationsmnot simply
in the way of war, which belongs to all centuries and is
specially characteristic of none, but far more in the way of
peace and conscious effort at amalgamation. The attempt
was being made on a great scale to forge the nations into
an articulated organism of provinces, looking to a single
Imperial central heart and brain for order and unity. The
ruling power was Rome. The motive force to set in motion
all that seething mass of materials, so that they might
coalesce in new unions, as provinces of one fatherland, was
the Imperial policy~—that marvellously wise and far-sighted
creation of the genius of Julius Caesar, shaped further by
The Slalesinanship 0f Panl 51

the skill and prudence of Augustus and his great minister
I Agrippa. Maecenas, whom the historians add as a third to
make the pair a trio, or even mention to the exclusion of
Agrippa, is an overrated person: the supposed contrast
between his great but hidden importance and his apparent
'indolence and luxury and self-effacement tempted the old
‘historians to attribute to him much to which he has no real
claim. He was simply a very clever manipulator of the
-' party machine in the city, an able political wire-puller, who
was exceedingly important in the earlier stages of Augustus’s
struggle for power, but who lost all his importance and sank
into insignificance and oblivion in B.C. 23, when the era of
constructive Imperial statesmanship began.
The attempt was, at first, too far-reaching. It was
sought to obliterate the old national lines of separation.
The provincial boundaries were so drawn as sometimes to
break up single nations between several provinces, and some-
times to include several nations in one province. Each pro-
vince was treated as a unity, and the Greek rendering of the
Roman term “province ” was actually naz‘icn : “the province
Asia” is expressed in the political Greek of the time as “Asia
the nation”. But to belong to a nation in the old sense was
non-Roman and anti-Roman, and was reckoned as the mark
either of slave origin or of disloyalty. The loyal subject of
the Empire was reckoned and designated by his province and
city, not by his nation ; though the real nature of the designa-
tion has often been concealed from modern scholars by the
fact that a provincial name was in many cases identical with
some national name. Especially the New Testament scholars
have rarely showed any knowledge of this principle; and
have often contemned, with the licence of ignorance, those
English scholars who wrote from a higher and truer point of
52 [I]

view.1 Like most of the fruitful principles in Roman Im-
perial history, this was first observed and worked into the“
study of the subject by Mommsen. When Paul called him-
self “ a Tarsian of Cilicia,” he was not speaking of the country
Cilicia, great part of which was under the rule of kings. He
was describing himself by his city and his province; and he
was so understood by the Roman officer to whom he spoke.‘
For a time the attempt to destroy the old national lines
of separation seemed likely to prove successful. The Roman '
Imperial policy was aided and supported both by the en-
thusiastic loyalty of the subject peoples and by the almost
universal fashion of regarding as vulgar and contemptible
everything that differed from the Greek or the Roman
standard. But nature was too strong. National character
could not be ejected either by fashion or by loyalty. In
the second century Hadrian recognised frankly that the
former policy had been pressed too far, and inaugurated a
new policy of respecting national ideas and enlisting them
in the service of the Empire.
In the first century, however, that earlier policy was
strong and popular, and the history of the time must be
studied according to it. We must remember that the loyal
population thought and classified according to provinces,
that national designations were used only as a necessity to
express geographical facts, and not political relations, that
a horse or a slave or a foreigner was called “Phrygian” or
“Lycaonian”; but a citizen of a Phrygian city was called
by his province (either Asia or Galatia), except that the
national designation was applied to him sometimes in jest
1 I may quote, as one of the best examples of the true spirit in treating
early Christian history, the Rev. F. Rendall’s article in the Expositor, Nov.,
I893, p. 321 if, on “The Pauline Collection for the Saints”.
The Statesmanship of Paul 53

and raillery as a nickname, or in contempt, or from geogra-
phical necessity to define more precisely his locality.
Of all the men of the first century, incomparably the
most influential was the Apostle Paul. N 0 other man exer-
cised anything like so much power as he did in moulding
the future of the Empire. Among the Imperial ministers
of the period there appeared none that had any claim to the
name of statesman except Seneca; and Seneca fell as far
short of Paul in practical influence and intellectual insight
as he did in moral character.
We cannot suppose that Paul was entirely unconscious
of the social and political side of his schemes and ideals, or
that he was simply pushed forward as a blind, unthinking
agent, an impotent piece in the game that God was playing
“upon this chequer-board of nights and days ”. That is not
the theory of the Christian thinker. We propose to examine
what evidence there is of any definite idea and principle—
purely on the external and non-religious side—in the action
and the teaching of Paul. What creative and guiding idea
——if any—did he throw into the melting-pot, in which
Roman policy was stirring and mixing the nations?
If there was no idea guiding his action, he would
have to be ranked as a religious enthusiast of marvellous
energy and vigour, but not as a religious statesman—as a
rousing and stimulative force, but not an organising and
creative force. But it seems beyond question that his
creative and organising power was immense, that the forms
and methods of the Christian Church were originated mainly
by him, and that almost every fruitful idea in the early
history of the Church must be traced back to his suggestive
and formative impulse. He was a maker and a statesman,
not a religious enthusiast. He must therefore have had in
54 [If

his mind some ideal, some guiding conception, which he
worked to realise.
Bearing in mind the limits we have imposed on our in-
vestigation, we look to see what was his attitude towards the
political ideas and divisions and classification amid which
he lived. We shall not stop, except for a moment, to allude
to the familiar principle which he expresses, in the writings
preserved to us, regarding the facts of Imperial organisation.
He always acts upon the principle, and impresses it on his
own churches, that existing authorities and government
should be respected, not as right, but as indifferent.
Such are the sentiments and advice in his later and
Christian stage. But his ideas as a Christian were de-
veloped out of his pre-Christian ideas and experiences.
What did he think before he was a Christian? We go
back to his early years. We ask what had been his attitude
towards the Roman world in his earlier stage? What was
the tone and character impressed on him by his surround-
ings as a child? Let us try to estimate in a practical way
the conditions amid which his family and himself were
placed in Tarsus, and the necessary effect of them.
II
In his own writings or speeches, Paul gives some im-
portant evidence bearing on the question as to his sentiments
in childhood and youth.
In the first place, we note what he writes to the Gala-
tians: “It pleased God, who separated me even from my
mother’s womb, and called me through His grace, to reveal
His Son in me that I might preach Him among the
nations”. Even before his birth, God had chosen him and
set him apart to be the man that should preach Christ to
The Slalesinanship of Paul 55

the nations; but a special revelation of Christ was needed
before he awakened to full consciousness of the purpose.
That statement is couched in the simple, concrete form
in which ancient thought uttered itself; and it expresses
what we should! put in more abstract and scientific terms—
that heredity and environment had determined his bent of
mind, that his family and his early surroundings had been
so arranged by an overruling power that he was made to be
the person that should preach to the Gentiles; but that the
truth which ultimately he should preach had to be awakened
to consciousness in him at the proper time.
Secondly, he writes to the Romans, strangers to him
personally, and explains his deep interest in them: “I am
debtor both to Greeks and to barbarians, both to the edu-
cated and the uneducated classes”. He had got something
from them all, and he was bound to repay. He had learned
good from them all, and he must teach them all good in re-
turn. He fully recognised that, in his position as a Tarsian
and a Roman citizen, he owed certain duties to Tarsus and to
Rome; and he was a man that never ignored or neglected
any duty.
Looking at the situation broadly, we see that the greatest
fact in the worldly position of the Jews at this time was
their relation to the Roman rule. It was difficult even for a
Jew who lived in Palestine to restrict himself so completely
to Jewish surroundings that he was not frequently brought
into contact with the Roman world. The soldiers, the
officers, the tax-gatherers, the traders of Rome were around
him. The justice, the laws, the organisation of Rome were
constantly pressing upon him.
If it was difficult for the Jew to isolate himself in Pales-
tine, it was impossible for the many thousands of Jews who
56 [11

lived in the great cities of Asia Minor and in Rome to do
so. Still more was it impossible for the Jew who had
acquired the rights of Roman citizenship to remain blind to
the question, what was the relationship between his position
as a Jew and his position as a Roman? This was the
situation in which Paul spent his early years: son of a Jew,
who was also a citizen of the great Greek-speaking city of
Tarsus, and who possessed the honours and rights—very
important honours and rights—of a Roman. Every day
of his life Paul’s father was necessarily brought face to face
with the world of Tarsus. As a Roman, he was a person
of rank and consequence. Few people can be blind (none
ought to be blind) to what gives them rank and influence
in their city; few can be blind to the claims of their own
city, in which they possess rank and influence. It was not
necessary for the Jew to forget or ignore his Jewish birth
and religion and people, while he recognised his position
and opportunities as a Tarsian and a Roman. There was
no opposition between them. Both Tarsian and Roman
law fully admitted that Jews were never to be compelled to
do anything contrary to their religious principles ; they had
full liberty to observe every religious duty, to go and come
freely to Jerusalem, and any interference with their privileges
was punished by the law. These privileges really gave the
Jews superior advantages over their fellow-citizens ; and the
consequent jealousy of the Greeks in the Asiatic cities often
broke out into quarrel, complaint, and even riot.
Such had been the favoured position of the Jews in those
great cities of Asia Minor like Tarsus from the third or second
century before Christ. Their advantages were increased after
the Roman Empire became the ruling power. The peace,
the order, the security of property, the ease and regularity
The Statesmanshijt of Paul 57

and certainty of intercourse by ship and by land between
the different provinces of the Empire, the absence of vexa-
tious restrictions and oppressive dues on articles of com-
merce,1 the abundance of money, the almost perfect “Free
Trade within the Empire,” resulted in a development of
commerce and finance on a vast scale. This was eminently
favourable to the Jews with their financial genius ; and there
was opened up before them a dazzling prospect of wealth
and power. They had merely to accommodate themselves
to their situation, and the world was at their feet. To utilise
those splendid prospects it was not required that they should
do any violence to their religion. All that was needed was
that they should cease to hold aloof from the surrounding
world, that they should, to a certain degree, mix with it,
speak its language, learn its ways, profit by the education it
could offer, use its resources, and conquer it with its own
weapons.
And it was not only in respect of wealth and material
success that this glorious prospect was open to the Jews in
the Roman Empire. It was equally the case in religion.
The Jewish faith, so strange and mysterious and incompre-
hensible to pagan society, with its proud isolation, its lofty
morality, its absolute superiority to pagan ideas of life, its
unhesitating confidence in its superiority—that religion exer-
cised an extraordinary fascination on the Roman world, not
so much on the purely Greek cities, but more on Rome and
on Central Asia Minor. Every synagogue had a surrounding
of persons interested in this religion, affected in varying
degrees by it, desirous to hear more of it--persons who were
called “the devout” or “the God-fearing,” and are often
1 The customs dues were not heavy, but only a quite fair return for the
advantages which the Imperial peace afforded to trade.
5 s 1!]

mentioned by Luke under those names. That large circle
of persons added to the importance, the dignity, the weight
of the Jews in the pagan world. The “devout” pagans
formed, as it were, an intermediate stage or step between the
Jews and the common pagan—which brought home all the
more vividly to both Jew and pagan the interval between
them. It is even highly probable that “the devout” added
to the wealth of the Jewish communities, both by payment
of formal dues and by voluntary gifts (as was the case with
the centurion—Luke vii. 5——who built a synagogue at
Capernaum). One great reason why the Jews so bitterly
resented the attraction which Paul exercised on “the de-
vout ” was that he drew them and their gifts away from the
synagogues : hence the frequent declarations made by Paul
that he has accepted no money from his converts, declara-
tions which imply and reply to frequent accusations.l
There was, therefore, opened to the Jews as dazzling
a prospect of religious and spiritual influence in the Roman
world as of material wealth and prosperity. There have
never been wholly wanting Jews whose vision was concen-
trated on the spiritual prospects of their race, whose
imagination was filled with visions of religious progress.
These have been the great prophets and leaders and ele-
vators of the people, preventing the mass of Jews from
losing hold on the spiritual side of life, from becoming
absorbed entirely in the pursuit of wealth, and from sinking
amid that pursuit down to the level of pagan society.
Such a prophet and leader of his people was Saul of Tarsus
destined to be, according to our view.
1 Mr. Baring Gould, in his Study of St. Paul, has the merit of properly
emphasising this fact. I am the more bound to say this, as I think that he
takes far too low a view of Paul’s character and action. See Art.
The Slalesinanship of Paul 59

Now consider what are the possibilities of the situation
in which Paul was nurtured at Tarsus. It might be possible
for a dull and narrow, but intense and fanatical nature to
grow up in Tarsus in a reaction and revolt against pagan
surroundings, to revert by a sort of atavism to the type of
his ancestors before they were settled as part of the Jewish
colony there, to reject and despise and abhor all contact
and participation with the Tarsian world. But Paul was
not such a hard and narrow nature : he could not grow up
as a citizen of Rome and of Tarsus, and yet remain blind to
the power and the spiritual opportunities of Jews and
Judaism in the Empire; for Paul was as absolutely free
from mere blind bigotry as he was from all sordid and
vulgar motives. As he grew up, he felt himself to be a
strict law-abiding Pharisee; yet he was also a Roman,
speaking Latin in order to assert his Roman rights ; he was
also a Tarsian, i.e. a Hellene, and he had to speak Greek
in ordinary life.
Clear evidence of Paul’s feeling for his Tarsian home
may be seen in the account which Luke gives of one of the
most terrible scenes in his life, when, bruised and at the
point of death, he was rescued from the clutches of a fanati-
cal and exasperated Jewish crowd by the Roman soldiers.
If we imagine what his condition must have been—sore
from the blows and the pulling asunder of his rescuers and
of the mob, probably bleeding, certainly excited and breath-
less, the shouts of the crowd still dinning his ears, “ Away
with him,” as they strove to get hold of him again, his life
hanging on the steadfast discipline of the soldiers and the
goodwill of their commander—we must feel that he would
not waste his words at that supreme moment, when the
Roman tribune hurriedly questioned him as to his race and
60 [I]

language, in stating mere picturesque details : anything that
rose to his lips in that moment must have been something
that lay near his heart, or something that was calculated to
determine his rescuer’s conduct. He said : “I am a Jew,
Tarsian of Cilicia, citizen of no mean city ”. This was not
his strict legal designation in the Roman Empire, for he
was a Roman citizen, and that proud description superseded
all humbler characteristics. Nor was the Tarsian designa-
tion the one best calculated to move the Roman tribune to
grant the request which Paul was about to make: that
officer was far more likely to grant the request of a Roman
than of a Tarsian Jew. Nor had Paul any objection to
claiming his Roman rights, for he shortly afterwards claimed
them at the tribune’s hand.
A critical friend questions my opinion that Paul was
excited on that occasion, and argues that he was cool,
pointing out that his first request was to be allowed to
speak to the mob. I cannot see reason to change. That
Paul was marvellously cool and collected and courageous in
a most perilous scene has always been one of the reasons
why I admire him so much ; but I do not think that he was
in the same state of mind as if he had been walking through
quiet streets quietly with a sympathetic friend. In such a
scene of hairbreadth escape from being torn to pieces by his
own countrymen, Paul’s mind was inevitably affected in a
certain way and degree. Any one who has ever been in a
position of serious danger knows that, however cool and
self-possessed one may be, there is a certain affection of the
mind, which for want of a better name I have called excite-
ment. The thoroughly brave man is never so collected, so
capable and so dangerous to his enemies as in the moment
of danger; but I do not think he is free from excitement ;
The Statesmanship of Panl 61

he is strung up to exert all the best powers of mind and
body to their highest degree.
My friend also points out that the Roman officer had
mistaken Paul for an Egyptian outlaw, whom he was rescu-
ing from the mob in order to deliver over to justice; and
that Paul replied: “I am (not an Egyptian, but) a Jew
of Tarsus”. That is quite true; but it is not the whole
truth. If Paul had merely sought to impress the officer
with his respectability, the best way obviously was to tell
that he was a Roman. A Roman centurion would have
shown far more respect to a Roman than to a Tarsian
citizen.
It seems impossible to explain Paul’s reply on this
occasion except on the supposition that “ Tarsian ” was the
description of himself which lay closest to his heart. And,
especially, the praise of Tarsus as a famous city is hardly
capable of any other interpretation than that, in his deeply
stirred emotional condition, he gave expression to the
patriotic love which he really felt for his fatherland and
the home of his early years.
It is not impossible now, and there is no reason to think
it was impossible then, for a Jew of the Diaspora to entertain
a distinct and strong feeling of loyalty towards the city
where he was born and in which he possessed the rights of
citizenship. It must be remembered that the feeling of an
ancient citizen to his own city was much stronger than that
which is in modern times entertained usually toward one’s
native town. All the feeling of patriotism which now binds
us to our country, irrespective of the town to which we
belong, was in ancient times directed toward one’s city.
“Fatherland” denoted one’s city, and not one’s country.
Both Patria in Latin, and Patris in Greek, were applied to
62 [[1

the city of one’s home.l It was only to a small degree, and
among the most educated Greeks, that Hellas, as a country,
was an idea of power. The educated native of a Cilician
city like Tarsus regarded the country Cilicia as implying
rudeness and barbarism, and prided himself on being a
Hellene rather than a Cilician ; but Hellas to him meant a
certain standard and ideal of culture and municipal freedom.
He was a “Tarsian,” but Tarsus was, and had long been,
a Hellenic city; and the Greek-speaking Tarsians were
either Hellenes or Jews, but not “ Cilicians” in the sense of
nationality, only “ Cilicians” as members of the province.
Moreover, citizenship implied much more in ancient
times than it means now. We can now migrate to a new
city, and almost immediately acquire citizenship there,
losing it in our former home. But in ancient days the
Tarsian who migrated to another city continued to rank as
a Tarsian, and Tarsus was still his Fatherland, while in his
new home he was merely a resident alien. His descend-
ants, too, continued to be mere resident aliens. Occasion-
ally, and as a special compliment, a resident alien was
granted the citizenship with his descendants ; but a special
enactment was needed in each individual case and family.
The city that was his Fatherland and his home mattered
much to Paul. It had a place in his heart.
III
And how perfectly natural is it that this should be so!
How unnecessary it seems to prove so laboriously that Paul
had a warm feeling for the home of his childhood! He
1 To a certain degree the Roman Imperial regime succeeded in widening
the scope of the term patria. That is one of the many advances which it
enabled the world to make. It gave to men the power to feel that their
Fatherland was their country and not their narrow township.
The Slalesinanship of Paul 6 3

was a man, a natural, warm-hearted man, not the emotion~
less ideal philosophic prig whom his contemporary, Seneca,
described as the perfect hero. That alone ought to be proof
enough. And it would be proof enough were it not for two
obstinate and most mischievous prejudices.
The first is that deep-rooted idea among many scholars
that the “early Christians” could never be natural human
beings, but were perverted into some unnatural frame of
mind in which ordinary human ties and affections ceased to
have much force for them, and the world and its fashions
and relations appeared to them as their enemy, while they
hesitated at no outrage upon established social conventions,
and recked so little of truth in their efforts to glorify and
propagate their religion that no statement which they make
can be trusted, unless it is corroborated by non-Christian
evidence. That there were such Christians, is doubtless
quite true. There are many individuals who are capable
of seizing a great idea only in a one-sided and narrow, but
intense, way. They have their use; and their limitations
give them in some directions increased strength. But these
did not give the tone to the Church in the first or second
century. Read the Letter of the Smyrnaeans about Poly-
carp : and observe how the writer contrasts his gentle dignity
and undisturbed calm with the nervous and hysterical con-
duct of some Christian martyrs—those, for example, who
went to extremes in showing their contempt and hatred for
their judges, rousing the indignation even of the humane
and law-abiding Pliny, while they returned evasive answers
to simple questions, lectured Roman dignitaries as if the
latter were the criminals and they themselves the judges,
and even used offensive and insulting gestures in their eager-
ness to gain the crown of martyrdom. But to the writer of
64 If]

that letter, it is the conduct of Polycarp that seems to be on
the same plane of feeling as the action of Jesus, while he
distrusts the abiding strength of the violent and outrageous.
The second prejudice is that Paul was a narrow, one-
sided, bigoted, Pharisaic Jew, ignorant of, and hostile to, all
higher Hellenic education, literature and philosophy, brought
up by his father according to the principle “Cursed be he
that shall teach Greek science to his son ”.
In contrast to these poor and barren opinions, we see
that Paul was far more than a Jew. His Jewish inheritance
in religious and moral conceptions was, of course, by far the
most important part of his equipment for the work that lay
before him. But his experience as a Tarsian and as a
Roman was also indispensable to him; and, as we have
seen, he was himself quite aware of the debt he had in-
curred to the Gentile world. “ Tarsian,” to him, expressed
a thought that lay very deep in his heart; whereas the
name “Roman” expressed an idea more intellectual than
emotional, more a matter of practical value than of kindly
sentiment. But the Roman idea was a very important part
of his qualification as a statesman, and a moulder of the
future of the Empire. There had passed into his nature
something of the Roman constructiveness, the practical
sense for economic ‘facts, the power of seeing the means to
reach an end in the world of reality and humanity, the
quickness to catch and use and mould the ideas and ideals
of the citizens of the Empire.
The two scholars who have best perceived the Greek
side of Paul’s thought are the only two, so far as I know,
who have studied him in the light of real familiarity with the
life of the Greek cities—Professor Ernst Curtius in Germany
and Canon Hicks in England. Some have dipped into Greek
The Statesmanship of Paul 65

life in search of illustrations of Christian history; and some
have studied it deeply for that purpose. Those two
scholars have studied the Greek life of that period for its
own sake, with professional thoroughness; and then studied
Paul in the light of full knowledge. The Roman side has
never, so far as I know, been sufficiently estimated.
There is much in a name; and it is peculiarly unfortun-
ate—it has blinded and narrowed the modern view of that
extraordinary man—that no one ever thinks of Paul by his
Roman name. But it is as certain that he had a Roman
name and spoke the Latin language, as it is that he was a
Roman citizen. If, for example’s sake, we could think of
him sometimes as Gaius Julius Paulus—to give him a
possible and even not improbable name—how completely
would our view of him be transformed. Much of what has
been written about him would never have been written if
Luke had mentioned his full name. But Luke was a Greek ;
and the Greeks had never any interest in, or any compre-
hension of, the Roman name, with all that it implied. Just
as, true Greek that he was, he never liked or understood the
Jews, so he could, indeed, respect, but never appreciate and
comprehend, the Roman talent and method in administra-
tion. Fortunately, it was not essential for the historian of
the early Church to fully understand the old Roman nature.
But still there are places where we feel his limitations.
Thus Paul grew up at once a Roman and a Tarsian and
a Jew. The constant presence of those opposite facts before
his eyes, the constant pressure of those opposing duties upon
his attention, would set almost any boy a-thinking ; and out
of Paul's thinking grew his ideals and plans of life.
Before his mind, as he grew up, there lay always out-
spread that double prospect—the lofty, stern purity of the
66 [If

true Judaism among the pagan world, and the danger that
the Jews might slip back towards the pagan level. This
last was a real danger in the Jewish colonies of Asia Minor.
Many Jews had become strongly affected by pagan sur-
roundings; they had formed eclectic systems, a syncretism
of Jewish and pagan elements, sometimes in the way of
philosophic religion, sometimes in mere vulgar magical arts
for practising on the superstition and emptying the pockets
of pagan devotees in the outer fringe of “the devout,” as we
see at Colossae, Ephesus, Thyatira; they intermarried with
the pagans, and the children of the mixed race, sometimes
at least, were not subject to the Jewish law, as at Lystra; in
the words of the Talmud, “the baths and wines of Phrygia
had divided the Ten Tribes from their brethren ”.1
In view of that danger, ever present before his eyes in
Tarsus, a danger which he had clearly comprehended—as
we see in his emphatic warnings to the congregations in
Galatia, Corinth, etc., who were exposed to it as much, and
in the same way, as the Jews—what was Paul to do? How
should he act? What was the remedy which he must press
upon the minds of his own people, as the great prophets
of old had done in the face of the dangers in their time?
There was but one remedy. Judaism in the midst of
Roman society must assimilate that society and raise it to
a higher level, or it must perish. Had Judaism been perse-
cuted, it might have preserved its purity by remaining
separate. But it was not persecuted; it was treated fairly;
it was even favoured in some considerable degree by the
Imperial policy. The temptations for Jews to assimilate
themselves to the society of the cities in which they lived
1M. Isidore Levi rejects Neubauer’s translation as given in the text.
The fact remains, whether or not the Talmud states it.
The Slalesinanship of Paul 67

were irresistible to mere human nature, for the most brilliant
prospects were open to them if they did so. There were,
therefore, only two alternatives open to Judaism in the
Empire: either it must conquer the Empire or be conquered
by it; either it must be a power to raise Graeco-Roman
society to its own level, or it must sink to the level of that
society.
We can see that clearly now. But did Paul see it at
the time? The truth is that at that time it was far clearer
to the thinking mind than it is now. It was the great fact
of the time: it must have been obvious to any Jew with
insight to pierce below the surface of things. To the
prophet’s eye the situation was clear. The time for the
Messiah was arrived. It was impossible that God should
suffer His worship to perish. That worship must conquer
the Roman world, or it must perish; but victory with the
Messiah was at hand.
IV
At a certain point in his early life Paul went up to
Jerusalem to begin the proper course of study of the law,
under the charge of one of the greatest and most famous
Jewish teachers, Gamaliel. Such was the natural, almost the
necessary, course for a Jew who felt strongly the religious
needs and prospects of his nation.
It does not, however, appear that he went to Jerusalem
very young. His life had been spent at Jerusalem from his
youth up; but the word “youth,” in the strictest Greek
usage, begins about twenty and ends with the approach of
old age (Acts xxvi. 4); and though we cannot assert that
Paul used the term in this strict sense, yet we ought not to
assume that he meant it to indicate a much earlier age than
68 I]!

twenty, inasmuch as he does not use the word “ childhood ”.
He distinctly implies that his conduct, as it was shown at
Jerusalem, was that of a young man, not of a child; and
the fair interpretation is that he came to Jerusalem after,
not before, he was of age to assume the toga virilzs, which
was usually in the fifteenth year. But then he chose the
religious life, and came to Jerusalem over, not under, the age
of fifteen. He made his choice at a comparatively mature
age; and it is a perfectly legitimate and practically certain
inference that he was previously brought up in the house of
a Roman citizen, to be ready to take his place in the world.
We know that he could use the Latin language, for he could
claim his rights as a citizen, and he could appeal to the
Emperor; and it is certain that his appeal was allowed on
the ground that he was a Roman whose life was endangered
by Jews.
Another consideration points to the same conclusion.
Paul was never married; and in the Apologia pee vita saa,
which he wrote to the Corinthians, when they suggested, as
a cure for the immorality of contemporary society, that all
Christians ought to be ordered or advised to marry,1 he
makes it quite clear what his view was. There were some
who chose the Divine life, some few who were capable of it:
these would probably not marry, and they were right. A
universal rule, such as the Corinthian philosophers advo-
cated, was an outrage on the freedom to which man was
heir.
One cannot read that passage, I Corinthians vii. 9,
without feeling that Paul is defending himself by stating
the reasons which impelled him when young to violate the
1Ex150sit0r, October, Igoo,
The Statesmanship of Paul 69

almost universal Jewish custom and remain unmarriedl
He had chosen the Divine life; and his resolution was that
expressed afterwards by Rabbi Asai, who took no wife:
“ My soul cleaves to the Law: let others see to the up-
building of the world”.
This choice points to an age beyond mere childhood.
It is the settled resolution of a man, not the hasty, imma-
ture choice of a boy. Even in the early maturity of a
southern race, we must suppose that Paul made his choice
over, not under, his fifteenth year. On the other hand, his
choice could not be long postponed after that age. A Jew
was expected to marry between fourteen and twenty. Paul
chose the Divine life ; and forthwith he went to Jerusalem
where alone the proper course of study could be found.
The change of scene, when P-aul went to be educated in
Jerusalem, produced no essential change in his relation to
the Roman world, and is unlikely to have caused any change
in his aims. He had chosen the religious life in preference
to the worldly life; and many years of study in Jerusalem
were needed to fit him for his career. During those years
Jesus appeared, and died.
To a Jew who saw vividly and keenly either the material
or the spiritual position which was open} to the Jews in the
Empire, the coming of the Messiah meant the realisation of
that commanding position in the Roman world, of which
they dreamed and to which they looked forward. The
Messiah was to make them the lords over their conquerors?
To all such Jews the death of Jesus was peculiarly offensive.
11 may be permitted to refer to the Expositor, October, 1900, p. 298 ff.,
where (and in the preceding sections) the passage in question is very fully
treated.
2 On Paul’s interpretation of this idea, see the end of § VI.
7o [[1

That death turned His career into a hateful parody of their
Messianic hopes : a life of humility and poverty extinguished
in ridicule and shame was set before them, and that im-
postor they were to worship as the King of the Jews. The
more eagerly Paul had thought about the glory that lay
before triumphant Judaism in the Empire, the more intensely
must he have detested the impostor who had, as he thought,
degraded before the Romans the Messiah and the nation.
The intense bitterness with which Paul pursued the
Christians was, therefore, the necessary consequence of his
anticipated conquest by the Jewish religion of the Roman
Empire. They were the enemy: they degraded his ideal,
they made a mockery and a farce of it: they must be de-
stroyed, if Judaism was to reach its destined glory in the
world.
In the midst of his persecuting career came the event
which suddenly transformed his whole life. It did not alter
his ideal and his anticipation. He was as true and as en-
thusiastic a Jew after as before. He still longed for, and
looked forward to, Judaism taking its true position in the
Roman world. But the way in which Judaism was to reach
that position was now changed in his thought.
On our conception of that epoch-making event depends
our whole view of Paul’s life. As we understand that
transforming event, so do we understand, or fail to under-
stand, the man and his work. A fashionable misconception
of that event in modern writers is to minimise its sudden-
ness, to represent it as the culmination of a change that
had been gradually working itself out in his mind. On
that view his old ideas had been slowly loosening and
dissolving, and suddenly they assumed, under a slight im-
pulse, a new form.
The statesmanship of Paul 71

But he himself has no mercy on that theory. Nothing
can exceed the emphasis with which he declares that there
was no antecedent change in his views: he was, in the
madness of his career, carrying the war into foreign cities,
eager to force the Christians to rail against and mock the
impostor. But Paul had a clear and philosophic mind. He
saw clearly his own position. His whole mind and conduct
was based on the certainty that the impostor was dead. If
that were not so, the foundation crumbled beneath his feet.
Then suddenly he saw Jesus before him, not dead but
living. He could not disbelieve; he saw; he heard; he
knew. He says to the Corinthians, “ Have I not seen Jesus?”
To examine the circumstances of that wonderful event
in a satisfactory way would need a long special article.
But fortunately, we need not here, for our present purpose,
enter on the somewhat pedantic discussion of the more
scholastic critics, who prize words above realities, whether
Paul’s vision was real or imagined. It is sufficient for our
purpose that to Paul himself it was the most real event of
his whole life. All else was, in comparison, shadow and
semblance. There he had enjoyed a brief vision of the
truth, the Divine reality. He had seen God, and spoken
with Him. His earthly self had been permitted for a brief
space to become aware of the omnipresent God, who is
everywhere around us, and who sometimes permits certain
mortals of finer mould and more sentient nature, His chosen
prophets, to hear His voice, like Samuel and Elijah, or to
see Him, like Moses: only by the inadequate and imperfect
way of the senses can their human nature become cognisant
of the Divine nature.l
1 See the first article in this volume.
72 [[1

What is certain and fundamental is this. On that
vision Paul’s future life and work were built. He could
not disbelieve, for he had seen and known. To think of
disbelieving was to deny his own self, his mind, his ex-
istence. He had no room in his nature for even the
thought of disbelieving or questioning. He had seen the
Jesus that he had fancied to be a dead impostor: he had
recognised that He was living: he knew that He was God.
There was no more to be said ; what remained was—to act.
Further, through that vision the civilised world was con-
quered, and the whole history of the world was changed.
Those who think that the world’s course can be altered by
the figment of a diseased brain may engage in the purely
academic discussion as to the reality of Paul’s vision. Those
who were with him could not hear or see what he heard and
saw. That only proved to him how much favoured he was,
and how little able they were to see into the realities of the
world.
An infinitely more important question is, how far that
vision changed Paul’s ideal and his nature P Our view, which
is set forth later on in this paper, is that the ultimate result
on Paul’s mind was to make him more clearly conscious of
the true nature of his own ideal. The vision and the revela-
tion removed, as it were, an obstruction from the channel of
his life, and in his later career we see the full powers of his
heart and mind sweeping down in free, harmonious, mighty,
irresistible course. He was not, in his later life, treading
laboriously in a path marked out by an overruling power,
contrary to his own instincts. He was enabled to use, with
perfect mastery and absolute concentration of mind, the
marvellous faculties and ideals with which nature had pro-
vided him. He was set free from clogging and hampering
The Statesmanshzjfi of Paul 73

associations, which would have made his success impossible,
and with which he must inevitably have come into collision
as soon as he really began to work. He was a Pharisee;
but he had so much clearer and wider an outlook than the
Palestinian Pharisees that he could never have acted in
agreement with them except in the destructive effort against
the Christians.
V
For many years after that crisis, it would almost appear
as if Paul had lost hold of his old idea and really turned
away from it. This was, for several reasons, a necessary
step in his development. For the moment he had lost all
confidence in his own aspirations. He would not confer
with flesh and blood, if we may turn his phrase to our pur-
poses. He desired only to do what was set before him. It
seemed to him that his experience qualified him peculiarly
well to appeal to the Jews : he had been so fanatical an op-
ponent of Jesus that his witness must convince them. This
work seemed to be given him to do; and to that he devoted
himself, abandoning his old dreams and plans.
When in later years he looked back on that epoch-making
crisis, he recognised that the Divine, foreordained purpose
was then manifestly revealed—that he should go to the
Nations. But at the time he did not clearly recognise it.
It was not so explicit as to compel intelligence. He was
commissioned to both Jews and Greeks, and he went to the
Jews of Damascus, of Jerusalem, of Cilicia. At last—after
twelve years—in Antioch, under the guidance of Barnabas,
and following the previous trend of events there, he began
to address the Greeks, but as yet only through the door of
the synagogue.
74 [I]

In fact, Paul at first was not ready to go direct to the
Nations. He had not yet fully understood his position.
He could not speak until he had completely assimilated
and formulated his ideas. He must know what was the
Kingdom of God as a Christian ideal before he could make it
conceivable to the Nations. He had seen with his own eyes
that Jesus was living ; and that truth be had preached to the
Jews. To them that was sufficient for a message of con-
version. They denied that He was living, and the denial
was necessary for their position. If He was living, then
the whole fabric of their religious platform fell into ruins.
But much more was needed to make a message intelligible
to the Nations. They had not denied that Jesus was living.
They were merely indifferent. Jesus had not crossed their
horizon. Whether He were living or dead mattered nought
to them. In order to appeal to them, Paul must know how
to set before the Nations, in a form intelligible to them, the
Whole truth, of which part was learned by all Jews at the
feet of their fathers, in the family life, in the family celebra-
tion of the Passover.
Then, fourteen years after the first revelation of the
Divine purpose, Paul became aware of a new message, in a
more precise and definite form, when he was in Jerusalem for
the second time since his conversion: “Depart! for I will
send thee far hence to the Nations”. Doubt and disobedi-
ence were alike impossible, and the work of Paul’s life now
at last began.
VI
In the first missionary journey, A.D. 47-49, there is no
clear proof that Paul had already consciously in his mind a
purpose affecting the Roman world. It is not possible to
The Slalesinanshijfi of Paul 75

say more than that he went in that direction, and, after
some wavering preliminary steps, occupied the frontier pro-
vince of Galatia, and thus seized on the first great step in
the road that led from Syria to the West. But the bare
narrative in Acts does not reveal any consciousness of the
nature of that step; and Paul’s own words seem to imply
that it was without any distinct plan in his own mind that
he planted his chief work in Galatia. In truth, the sea
route along the coasts of Cyprus, Pamphylia and Lycia
seems at first to have been before the mind of himself and
Barnabas; and they were led out of it and set on the land
route through Southern Galatia by unforeseen and incalcul-
able events. Still, that sea-road also led to the West and to
the centre of the Empire; and the fact that Paul at first
chose the sea-road would be quite consistent with an ulti-
mate Roman purpose. The ordinary way by which travel-
lers went from Syria to Rome was by sea ; and the voyages
of that period were coasting voyages. Hence, if Paul had
already a purpose towards Rome vaguely present in his
mind, he would think first of the coasts along which such a
voyage lay.
It seems, in truth, rather strange at first sight, that the
Lycian and Pamphylian coasts were Christianised only slowly
and late. Many Christians travelled back and forwards be—
tween Syria and Rome in the first two centuries; and as
the prevalence of westerly breezes in the Levant made the
voyage very slow along the south coast of Asia Minor, one
might have expected that the new religion would have spread
rapidly in the coast-lands. But in those coasting voyages
the travellers were kept close to the ship by the very un-
certainty of the wind. It was never possible to say at what
moment the land breeze might arise by whose help the ship
76 [I]

might work its way westwards; and the favourable chance
must not be lost. Those who were not on the ship when
the wind veered lost their passage. Such was once my own
experience in a voyage along the Aiolic coast. After wait-
ing for hours in the harbour of Phocaea, hoping for a
favourable change in the breeze, as the universal opinion was
that the wind was settled for the day, I went, after midday,
to take a hasty survey of a reported monument about half
an hour distant. When I returned, after two hours or less,
the small sailing vessel in which I had been offered a
passage had gone. The wind had suddenly changed enough
to let it get round the promontory; and thus I missed an
opportunity which never again fell to my lot. But it was
not a valueless experience. It brought vividly home to one
the reason why the land roads rather than the coast roads
were the lines by which, in ancient days, new thoughts and
new religions won their way. Rome was Christianised by
sea-travellers, but the intermediate harbours were not af-
fected so early as Rome and Puteoli (where the Roman
voyage ended).
The one exception confirms the rule: Crete was early
Christianised, and, if we had any information, we should
doubtless find that the new religion spread first on the south
coast, along which Rome-bound vessels were constantly
working their slow course. Crete was a great wintering
place for those vessels. They could work their way from
point to point thus far along the coast, taking advantage of
favourable opportunities. When they reached the harbour
of Phoenix, however, near the western end of Crete, they had
before them the long sea course over the Ionian waters (or,
as sailors called it, Adria) to the Italian or the Sicilian coast ;
and, if it were late in the season, they must lay up there for
The Statesmanship of Paul 77

the winter. Thus passengers bound for Rome might have
four months sure before them in Phoenix, while they never
had an hour sure in any other harbour before Puteoli.
In the second missionary journey Paul’s purpose and his
method are clear. The first stage on the land road had
been previously gained. Paul now fixed his eye on Ephesus.
That great scholar, Dr. Hort, has said all that need be said
on this point in his Lectures on Ephesians and Colossians,
p. 82 : “ On his second journey he was apparently making his
way to the province Asia, doubtless specially meaning to
preach in its great capital, Ephesus, when he received a
Divine warning,” which diverted him temporarily from his
Ephesian purpose, and led him to the provinces Macedonia
and Achaia. But “on his return to the East, though he had
little time to spare, it would seem that he could not be
satisfied without at least setting foot in Ephesus and making
some small beginning of preaching in person there”. And
then “ he said farewell, with a promise to return again,
if God will ”. Then, in the third journey from Syria, once
more “he followed his old course through Southern Asia
Minor, and this time was allowed to follow it right on to its
natural goal, Ephesus. . . . The whole story gains in point
and clearness, if we suppose that it is essentially a record of
the steps by which St. Paul was enabled to carry out a
cherished desire, to be himself the founder of a Christian
Church in that great metropolis in which the East looked
out upon the West.”
Now, Ephesus was not a greater city than Alexandria,
nor a city so full of intellectual and commercial life as the
rich and busy Egyptian metropolis, seat of one of the great-
est universities of the world. What, then, did Dr. Hort con-
ceive to be the reason why Paul was so eager to occupy
78 [f]

Ephesus at this early stage of his work? He does not
expressly state any reason—he was not at the moment in
search of a reason—but it lies in his words ready to our
hand. Ephesus was the next step in the conquest of the
Roman Empire, for it was the door by “which the East
looked out upon the West” in the Roman system of com-
munication. With Galatia already occupied, Asia and
Ephesus formed the next stage. We have a right to quote
Dr. Hort as a witness, whether consciously or unconsciously,
that already in the plan of his second journey Paul was
looking forward to the conquest of the Empire.
In the rest of Paul’s career, both in the organisation and
articulation of his scattered congregations into the great
unity of the Church, and in the indications given of his
future plans, the same purpose is clear and (one might
almost say) unmistakable. He thinks, as it were, in Roman
provinces: he uses names for the provinces which were
purely Latin and never employed by Greek writers of his
time, though later Greek writers of Roman history occasion-
ally used them. As the Roman fashion of naming a pro-
vince changes, he too changes; and whereas in his earlier
writing he speaks of Illyricurn (which a Greek would call
Illyris), in a later letter he mentions Dalmatia. He classi-
fies his newly founded churches according to the Imperial
provinces. He estimates his progress according to provinces
—-Syria and Cilicia, Galatia, Asia, Macedonia, Achaia,
Illyricum—and as he goes forward he plants his steps and
his institutions in their capitals. This is the language, these
are the thoughts, of a man whose aim is co-extensive with
the Empire, “the creation of a unity within the Church as
extensivei'as the Imperial Organisation ” (to quote Mr. Ren-
dall’s words in the article already mentioned).
The Slai’esinanship of Paul 79

So, too, he lays his plans for the future. He will go
over into Macedonia. He “purposed in the spirit, when
he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to
Jerusalem, saying: After I have been there, I must also
see Rome”. But Rome was already occupied by other
founders, and Paul shrank from building upon another
man’s foundation, “wherefore also,” as he writes to the
Romans, “I was hindered these many times from coming
to you”; but at last, having established the Churches of
the East, he resolves to occupy Spain, the extreme limit of
the West, the remotest province of the Empire; and on the
way thither he will visit Rome, “for I hope to see you Romans
in my journey, and to be brought thitherward by you ”. He
was eager to visit the capital of the Empire, and to achieve
something there, yet his unwillingness to interpose on the
work of others made him always shrink from his longed-for
goal, until the opportunity offered itself to “see Rome” on
his way to Spain. It is strange that this careful and courteous
apology for intruding on a field already occupied (by an
Apostle) should have been misunderstood by so many modern
scholars, who have actually quoted this apology as a proof
that the Roman field was unoccupied when Paul went there.
The eagerness to see Rome, the design of going to the
West after conquering and organising the East, admit of no
other interpretation except through the fully formed plan of
conquering the Roman world.
Tradition even stretches his plans into Britain, the
northern limit of the Empire ; but it is too uncertain to be
used as evidence. He was, however, ,sending his subordin-
ates at least as far as Gaul in his later years (if Tischendorf
is right in accepting the reading of the Sinaitic Manuscript,
“ Gallia,” in 2 Timothy iv. IO).
8o [[1

To follow out this idea in detail would overstep the per-
missible limits. These indications, however, may be enough
to show that there lay in Paul’s mind from infancy, implanted
in him by inheritance from his Tarsian Jewish parents,
nourished by the surroundings of his childhood, modified
and redirected by the marvellous circumstances of his con-
version, the central and guiding and impelling thought that
the religion revealed to the Hebrew race must conquer and
must govern the Roman world (which, ultimately, would
mean the whole world), and that the realisation of this idea
was the Kingdom of God.
This was a very different idea from the idle dream of
the Palestinian Pharisees and Zealots, a barren fancy, born
of ignorance and narrow-mindedness, that the Messiah
would plant their foot on the necks of their enemies and
make them to rule over their Roman conquerors. Such a
thought was fruitless and useless. The man who could give
it space in his mind was never chosen by the Divine over-
ruling will to go to the Nations. We see in Paul a totally
different conception of the Messiah. After his Christian
days began, that is, of course, obvious. But even from his
childhood it was a rich and great idea—and therefore an
idea of justice and freedom, bringing with it equality of
rights, equality of citizenship, free participation in the one
conquering religion. To prevent the Jews from sinking to
the level of the Nations, among whom their lot was cast, the
Nations must be raised to the level of the Jews.
Such an idea naturally developed into Christianity.
The man who entertained it was really quite out of harmony
with the narrow Jewish party, and after a time he must dis-
cover this in the ruin of all his earlier plans. But Nature
and the Divine purpose were inevitably driving him towards
The Statesmanshzj) of Paul 81

his true party and his true allies, as the ox is driven by the
pricks of its driver’s goad; and though Paul, for a time,
resisted with blind fury, the power of Nature was too strong,
and the truth was presented to him on a sudden in an irre-
sistible and compelling way, which seized him in its grasp
and dominated his entire mind and being ever afterwards.
The Pauline idea of the Kingdom of God, from the
religious point of view, is admirably treated by Professor
Sanday in the journal of Theological Studies, i., 481 ff. To
speak in Pauline words, “the Kingdom of God,” contem-
plated in its absolute reality, apart from the fetters of space
and time, “is righteousness and peace and joy ”; “ it is not
in word but in power”. But here, at present, we look only
at the external side, as the idea develops itself in existing
society and political circumstances, constrained by the con-
ditions of the world in which man lives. The Kingdom of
God had to unfold itself in the Roman world, province by
province, in the cities of men, in parts and small groups of
persons, far separated from one another by sea and land, by
language and manners. While Paul never loses sight of the
eternal and absolute idea, he is generally engrossed with the
task immediately and practically before him, the life of the
Church scattered over the provinces of the Empire, “the
elect who are sojourners of the dispersion in Pontus, Galatia,
etc.,” the Church of the Diaspora.
VII
It may be objected to the interpretation of Paul’s aims
which was stated in the former part of this article, that some
more explicit expression of his intention might have been
expected in his writings, in addition to the obscure indica-
82 [[1

tions of which some instances have been quoted in our pages.
But this objection has no force in view of the character of
his writings.
In all his letters which have been preserved to us, Paul
is absorbed in the needs of the moment, eager to save his
readers from some mistake into which they are liable to
fall, or have actually fallen—anxious to strengthen them
and to move their minds—compelled to answer accusations
against himself and misrepresentations of his actions which
had endangered his hold on the hearts of his correspondents.
He is always, as it were, with his back against a wall, fight-
ing for life against principalities and powers, men and sin.
So it must always be with a man who is not an opportunist,
but aims at an ideal. His life must be one long fight, which
will not end till he dies, or till he gives up his ideal and
falls back into despairing acquiescence in the existing order.
But for Paul only one thing was possible. He could not
rest: he could not abandon his ideal: he must fight on to
the end. Accordingly, when we are :on the outlook for
some expression on the external side, as distinguished from
the purely religious expression, of the ideals which underlie
and give unity to the storm and stress and constant fighting
of his life, the letters, controlled as they are by consideration
for the immediate needs of others, are not well calculated to
help us in our search, though, as a whole, they become far
more luminous and consistent when read on our view.
If we had a defence pronounced by Paul before a great
tribunal, where sat a judge of the type of Seneca at his best,
we might expect to find in it a survey of his life and work
rising above a mere reply to criticism, and expressing his
ideals in a form that could be comprehended by the judge.
Before a judge like Felix it was useless to pitch his defence
The Sz‘alesinanshijfi of Paul 83

on a higher level than a statement showing that he had not
done the particular act which he was accused of. A judge
of the higher type, such as Rome produced in unusual
numbers, would have sought to understand the deep—lying
motives which had brought about the collision between Paul
and the chiefs of his people; and Paul, with his unerring
instinct, would have given the judge what he desired. What
would we not give to have an account of his defence before
the supreme tribunal of the Empire in Rome, or even that
in Corinth before Gallio, the brother of Seneca?
There is only one case in which Paul’s appearance before
a tribunal of a higher class has been described to us, via,
the Council in Jerusalem. Bitterly prejudiced as the Jewish
Sanhedrin was, still it was composed of the leading men of
the nation, men of experience and standing, men with a
certain reputation which they must maintain, even though
they were already convinced before the trial began that the
defendant was guilty, men who were accustomed and trained
to look a little below the surface, and who were not ready
to accept a mere superficial defence. It was not a tribunal
of the highest kind, but it was the great Council of the
Jewish nation; and a real defence of his life might have
been made before it; but the speech was interrupted at the
outset. Paul saw that he ought to begin his defence with
a brief and pithy sentence, and “ he cried out in the Council:
I am a Pharisee, a son of Pharisees: touching the hope
and resurrection of the dead I am called in question”. That
was the beginning and the enforced end of his defence in
the great crisis of his life. What can we make of it?
That is one of the greatest scenes of Paul’s life. On our
interpretation of his aims, those few words addressed to
the Sanhedrin stand forth as the sharpest and most com-
s4 1!!

prehensive statement that has come down to us from him
about his work and his plans. But before describing the
meaning which we gather from those words, it is necessary
to state briefly the meaning which is, and must be, taken
from them on the ordinarily accepted view of Paul’s ideals
——according to which the scene sets him in an unfortunate
and disappointing light.
According to that generally accepted view, Paul was
snatching a momentary victory by a clever stroke of policy,
playing on the passions of his hearers and judges, leading
them away from the real point at issue and directing their
attention to a different question on which they were sure
to quarrel with one another and forget the prisoner. On
that view he had been a Jew and a law-abiding Pharisee of
the straitest type, brought up strictly within the narrow
Jewish circle of thought and custom, ignorant of the teach-
ing of the western schools, who, however, had become a
Christian and was being tried for calumniating and bringing
contempt on his original faith : in claiming to be a Pharisee
he was rather unfairly laying claim to his pre-Christian
character, and in saying that the accusation against him
turned on his belief in the resurrection of the dead he was
raising an unreal issue, with barely enough of justification
to save him from falsehood.
A writer to whom we can always turn for a clear and
sharp presentation of accepted views in their most reason-
able form, Canon F arrar, in his Life of S t. Read, finds that
“we cannot defend his conduct at that meeting,” and ex-
plains his action on the ground that “he was a little unhinged,
both morally and spiritually, by the wild and awful trials of
the day before ”: “the words suggest a false issue ”: they
show that Paul failed in that “ scrupulously inflexible
The Statesmanship of Paul 85

straightforwardness ” which the Canon finds to be character-
istic of “the English in particular”. “Yet,” he proceeds,
“ after all these qualifications,” after making “every possible
deduction and allowance for a venial infirmity,” “ we cannot
in this matter wholly see how St. Paul could say without
qualification in such an assembly, ‘I am a Pharisee’”. That
conduct “was hardly worthy of St. Paul ”. “ Moreover, the
device, besides being questionable, was not even politic. It
added violence to a yet more infuriated reaction in men
who felt that they had been the victims of a successful
stratagem.”
On our part, while we acknowledge that the last sentence
which we have quoted describes what must inevitably have
been the result, if Paul’s action had been a mere crafty trick,
we fail to see any proof that that result actually occurred,
and that the sympathy which his words created in a portion
of the Sanhedrin turned immediately or at all into redoubled
fury. The Council, certainly, continued to be bitterly
hostile, and even became more bitter, but it was dominated
by the Sadducee priests, who were all the more infuriated
because of the check which Paul’s bold words inflicted on
them at the meeting.
We are, in truth, very imperfectly informed as to the
attitude of the Jews towards Paul. Luke, as we shall see,
was strongly prejudiced against the Jews; and yet we
gather from him that there was generally an appreciable
minority of Jews in the cities of the East who were favour-
able to Paul, that in Beroea a majority of them were on his
side, and that in Rome the leading Jews adopted a guarded
and non-committal attitude, which has been a riddle to
modern scholars, but which seems very significant. The
Roman Jews were well aware how strong was the opposition
86 If]

to Paul among many of their nation. They must have been
well aware of the long prosecution to which he had been
subjected in Palestine ; but they were not determined against
him; and this must certainly be due to the fact that a min-
ority of the Jews regarded his policy as being not entirely
wrong.
Yet it seems impossible to avoid that unfavourable inter-
pretation of the Council scene on the commonly accepted
view of Paul’s early life. If he had been only the narrow,
hard, bigoted and ignorant Jew whom some modern writers
describe, he undoubtedly had completely changed after he
became a Christian, and had swung round to the opposite
extreme. Beginning, as they say, in early life by opposing
and hating everything that was not pure Jewish, be after-
wards was all for breaking down and destroying the bar of
separation between the Jews and “the Nations”. The man
whose maturer views are the absolute antithesis of his youth-
ful ideas has no right, when he is challenged in the Council
of his people, to pretend and solemnly assert that he still
holds his earlier ideas.
But when Paul declared in that great crisis, before the
elders and rulers of his nation, that he was “ a Pharisee, son
of Pharisees,” he was obviously claiming to be still what he
had been born and bred: he was asserting the continuity of
his mental development from first to last. Nor does that
assertion stand alone. Paul has left us many other state-
ments to the same effect. Sometimes indeed he seems to
say almost the opposite: he speaks in the strongest terms
of the complete revolution in his life that was made by his
conversion: everything was changed for him: he passed
from death to life. Nothing can be more emphatic than
his expressions in some places. But in other places he
The Slalesinanshiv of Paul 87

sums up his whole life as a continuous and unbroken pro-
cess, describable in its entirety by the same words; and he
studiously avoids anything which could suggest that any
revolution or serious change had occurred in its character.
Thus, for example, the first words he uttered in the Council,
as he began his defence, before the High-priest interrupted
him by ordering an attendant to strike him on the mouth,
were these: “Brethren, I have lived before God in all good
conscience until this day”. The description is not restricted
to one half of his life. Before and after his conversion alike
he had been equally zealous to serve the God of Israel.
That is pretty nearly equivalent to his statement, made a
few moments later, that he was still a Pharisee. So again,
he claimed in his defence before Felix, a few days later,
that as a Christian he was “serving the God of our fathers,
believing all things that are according to the Law . . .
always exercising myself to have a conscience void of
offence towards God and men”. His defence was always
the same, and therefore had been carefully planned: that
his life had been consistently directed from the beginning
towards one end, the glorification of the God of Israel by
admitting the Nations to be his servants, and that this was
true Judaism and true Phariseeism.
Those two groups of statements are in the strongest con-
trast with one another. But, in our interpretation, there is
no contradiction between them. Both assertions are equally
true. His life, before and after, was the same, and yet
utterly different. The difference was infinite, yet the dif-
ference was slight. The whole of the present paper is an
attempt to state and make evident the meaning of this
apparent contradiction; but to carry out the idea properly
requires an entire study of Paul’s life. Every incident in
88 [If

his career is affected by this view ; some are seen in a totally
different aspect.
In the Council scene, then, a plain issue is presented.
On the one hand, we find that his claim to be still what he
had been from the beginning is simply a brief statement of
the view which we have been stating of his life as a whole.
On the other hand, those who take the common view are
bound to hold that his statement before the Sanhedrin came
perilously near being false; and Canon Farrar, in his clear,
narrow, logical way, accepts the inevitable inference; but
others try to palliate Paul’s conduct, and go to far greater
extremes than Canon Farrar would permit in making ex-
cuses for it.
It may be, and has been, urged that, when a prisoner is,
or considers that he is, subjected to undeserved trial on a
trumped-up charge, he may justifiably go to considerable
lengths in evading the main issue, and in stirring up latent
disagreement among his judges. But that question of casu-
istry does not concern us here. Paul had come up to Jeru-
salem well aware that he would be seized and accused by
the Jews. He elected to take this risk, because his scheme
of work pointed the way to him; and he went straight on
in the line indicated. In his trial the highest interests were
involved; the right of free speech and of liberty to preach
hung on the issue. It was not necessary to come to face the
trial ; but he who chooses to face a trial, who comes voluntarily
forward to speak on behalf of his religion and his co-religion-
ists, falls far short of his own beginnings, if, in the crisis, he
tries to outwit his opponents and to save himself by a clever
trick. Such a victory is not a real victory. It would not
strengthen the cause which Paul had at heart; and it would
only be a temporary and evanescent advantage. On this
The Statesmanship of Paul 89

occasion Paul was bound to be true to himself, to claim the
freedom that he considered was his right, and to have re-
course to no subterfuge. He was, however, fully justified in
putting his defence in the form which would be most effec-
tive with his judges. If one party among his judges was
more capable of being brought to a favourable view of his
claims than the other, he would naturally and justifiably aim
at affecting the minds of the more hopeful party. But he
must not stoop to mere trickery, and he must be unswerv-
ingly loyal to his cause.
Moreover, it cannot reasonably be maintained that Paul’s
trial was undeserved, and that the charge against him was
trumped up. It was quite fair that he should be tried—pro-
vided the trial was justly conducted. It was the best thing
for him that he should have the opportunity of stating his
own defence before the rulers of his people. Considering
what Jewish views and principles were, we do not see that
the Council can be blamed for bringing him to trial—pro-
vided always that they gave him a fair trial. He had, un-
doubtedly, done harm to the Judaism which they represented.
He had spoken sharply and severely against it. He had
drawn away from it many of its admirers and benefactors
in many cities of the Empire; and his influence was calcu-
lated to lower the prestige of the existing Jewish institutions
among “the Nations”. He, on his side, claimed to repre-
sent the true line of development in which Judaism ought
to advance. He held that Judaism was sinking below its
true self and becoming dead, because it resisted the forces
within itself that were impelling it to advance. It was right
for the Council to bring him to trial, and to hear his defence.
It was right for him to plead his cause with absolute truth, to
refuse to sink below his own highest level, to condescend to
90 [If

no tricks or stratagems. On the one side there must be a
charge stated against him : on the other side, there must be
a denial of the charge, and an argument in support of the
denial. Paul’s denial is couched in the form of a statement
that he is a Pharisee. The right criticism of the proceedings
is, not that there ought to have been no trial, but that, as it
was conducted, it came perilously near making the pro-
secutors the judges.
VIII
N ow, according to our view, Paul’s career as a Christian
was not the negation, but the completion, of his early ideals ;
it turned his youthful dreams into realities. He was not
less of a Jew after he became a Christian: he only came to
know better what Judaism really was. He began, at his
conversion, to obey the law of his own character, inherent in
him from his birth, and developed by his education. Hence-
forth, he recognised and obeyed the guidance of Nature, or,
as he would say, of God, which previously he had stupidly,
blindly, ignorantly resisted. But he lived in all good con-
science before the God of Israel, afterwards as before, as he
had just a moment before stated to the Council. If he was
a Pharisee before, he still remained a Pharisee ; and so he
now declared to the Council. In the words of Goethe’s motto,
W/iat lie wis/ied in yont/z, ke kad in age, but in a way he had
not dreamed of.
But what are we to understand when he calls himself a
Pharisee? What meaning did this carry to him? In es-
timating this, we must remember what was the circle of
ideas within which the trial necessarily moved. It turned
on questions of the world and of life, not on philosophical
theories.
The Slalesinanship 0f Panl 91

The difference between Pharisee and Sadducee may be
looked at from several different points of view, religious,
philosophic, moral ; but in the practical facts of politics and
society, within which the trial moved, the relation to Rome
was the critical question. The Sadducees were in favour of
compromise and agreement ; the Pharisees were the national
party, who stubbornly resisted Roman encroachment, both
in politics and in life. The Sadducees would sacrifice all
those facts and elements in their religion and national life
that tended to prevent the agreement with Rome and to
impede their career in the Roman Empire, whose sway they
accepted. The Pharisees would not sacrifice one jot or one
tittle of the law.
Considering Paul’s attitude towards the Empire, it was
inevitable that he should seem to the Pharisees to be as
much a Sadducee as a Christian. He accepted, as Jesus
accepted, the practical fact of Roman rule. The common
Pharisee could not see that both Jesus and Paul accepted
the Roman government because, spiritually, it had no reality
and no importance. Paul would concentrate the mind upon
spiritual facts, and accept the merely outward and evan-
escent facts of the world, of politics, of society. The
Sadducees saw nothing more real than the Roman govern-
ment; Paul saw that among the realities of life the outward
form of conquering rule had no place. The present form
of government was an unreal and passing phenomenon,
which never touched the truth and reality of life. Both the
Sadducees and Paul recognised that they should accom"
modate themselves in the circumstances of life to the
Roman rule. But the Sadducees would make their exist-
ence in the Roman Empire: they knew no higher life:
they recognised nothing but the facts of worldly and
92 [I]

material prosperity. Paul would live a life above the level
of the Roman Empire. ,
So it was with everything that was distinctive in Judaism.
The Sadducees would level down to the Roman standard.
Paul would level up to the Jewish standard. The Saddu-
cees would sacrifice everything that was inconvenient for the
Roman career. Paul would not sacrifice one jot of the
truth of the Law, or of its spiritual value. The Sadducees
recognised no spiritual value in anything.
But these differences, infinitely great as they are, were
not visible to the multitude; and to the multitude Paul
necessarily seemed a mere Sadducee, and worse than a
Sadducee, for he was said to despise and abolish even the
externals of Judaic ritual, which the Sadducees regarded.
Our contention then is that, amid the reports and the
inaccurate ideas current in Jerusalem about Paul’s conduct
and opinions, the statement which he made in that great
scene was the best way of placing before a Jewish audience
in a single introductory sentence his position and views
of life. It is, of course, impossible to put one’s entire
philosophy and ideal of life into a score of words, or explain
in a short sentence the whole of a complex problem; but
Paul took the best way to destroy a most critical and funda-
mental misconception among his hearers. If the Sadducees
condemned him as a Christian, the Pharisees condemned
him quite as much for being a Sadducee.
The crux of the situation lay in this. Paul stood before
the more patriotic members of the Council as the worst of
Sadducees, the denier of principles dear to the Pharisees,
the corrupter of the purity of the Law, the breaker-down of
the proud Jewish isolation from the hateful world. His
action had that character in his enemies’ eyes. He denies
The Statesmanship of Paul 93

that accusation in a word by declaring himself a Pharisee.
The accusation is nowhere recorded in that precise form,
for we are very inadequately instructed about the form which
popular indignation and accusation against him took. But
the assertion here sufficiently proves the form of a common
and specially dangerous accusation. So also he assured
Agrippa that he had lived a Pharisee, and in a passage
addressed to the Philippians (which has most obviously the
form of a reply to stinging accusations) he declares that he
was “as touching the Law, a Pharisee”. When we see in
his writings such a repeated assertion, we recognise in it the
answer to an accusation.
But, it is urged, “the Pharisaic spirit was in its very
essence the antithesis of the Christian,” and Paul was “in
reality at variance with the Pharisees in every fundamental
particular of their system”.
Those statements are, to a certain degree, true. But it
was rather the faults of the Pharisees, than the essence of
the Pharisaic ideals, that were the antithesis of the Christian
spirit. It is too easy to see only the faults of the Pharisees,
and to forget that they were the patriotic, the earnest, the
puritan party among the Jews. Much divided the Christian
Paul from the ordinary Pharisees. But from another point
of view it is true that he was still a Pharisee. In certain
great questions, he could not better define in brief his posi-
tion than by denying that he was" a Sadducee and asserting
that he was a Pharisee. Like the Pharisees he would not
concede anything of Jewish truth to the Gentiles ; he would
keep the entire Law. But, unlike the Pharisees, he would
impose on the Gentiles only the spiritual facts and not
the outward and unessential ceremonies of the Law. So,
too, much divided the Christian Paul from the ordinary
94 [[1

Jews. But Paul claimed to be the true Jew and the true
Pharisee.
Again, the Sadducees recognised no spiritual side to the
Law, no spiritual and eternal side to human life. Here Paul
was entirely the Pharisee. Belief in the resurrection of the
dead was the briefest declaration of his position in this
question.
Nor did his declaration before the Council draw attention
away from the real fact that Paul was on trial as a Christian.
To Paul the fact that Jesus was living was the guarantee of
the resurrection of the dead, and to him, as to all Jews, the
recognition that Jesus was living implied that Jesus was the
Christ.l
Thus Paul's declaration to the Sanhedrin is found to be
the briefest possible way of bringing home to the patriotic
party among his judges that, though his acts had been
directed towards establishing an agreement between the
Jews and the Roman State and breaking down the isolation
of the Jews, still he was resolute not to sacrifice one jot of
the spiritual law, or sink in the smallest degree below the
loftiest level of Judaism. What further explanations would
have been made in the course of his speech we know not,
for the speech was interrupted at that point.
IX
It is true that Luke’s account of the scene is so expressed
as to lend itself readily to the commonly accepted view. It
may be allowed that possibly he interpreted the scene in
that way; but that is far from certain. It is quite in ac-
cordance with the spirit of our theory to say, in the words
1 On this see §§ IV., V.
The Slalesinanship of Paul 95

of Luke, that “when Paul perceived that the one part were
Sadducees and the other Pharisees, he cried out in the
Council, Brethren, I am a Pharisee,” etc. Let us conceive
clearly how the action proceeded.
Paul opened his defence before the Council by declaring
that he had lived in all good conscience before God until
that day: he began by maintaining that his life had been
spent in one continuous uninterrupted strain of zealous
obedience to the God of Israel. That, as we have seen, is
really the same essential truth which he afterwards expressed
in another way.
The beginning was unfortunate. It offended his audience,
instead of conciliating it~-—a serious fault in a speech for the
defence, and one that Paul was seldom guilty of. The high-
priest rebuked him brutally, and roused a very sharp and
bitter retort. Paul had not known the high-priest, who
was not presiding at the meeting, but was merely one of the
general body of the Council. The Roman tribune had
summoned the meeting, and necessarily was its president.
As president, he brought Paul before the meeting (as Luke
mentions), which was one of the recognised forms in the
Roman theory of the chairmanship: Paul could not speak
at such a meeting, unless the president introduced him.1 In
such circumstances, the high-priest would appear to have
avoided wearing his official dress; he was present, as it
were, only unofficially. Probably, it was a matter of usage
that the high-priest should not officially occupy a subordin-
ate place in the assembly: when a Roman presided, the
high-priest appeared without his official dress, and sat as an
ordinary member. His action in interrupting Paul’s de-
fence was, therefore, all the more out of order; and Paul,
1 Producere was the technical term for this action of the chairman.
96 [f]
,7
who did not recognise him, retorted sharply on his conduct
as a juror, but apologised as soon as he learned that it was
the high-priest who had spoken.
The meeting, however, was evidently disturbed through
the violent feelings aroused by this unfortunate incident.
Some discussion took place before Paul was again allowed
to speak ; and in the course of the discussion Paul observed,
as Luke says, “that the one part were Sadducees and the
other Pharisees”. The differences between the two parties
were so strongly accentuated that a very little debate would
reveal the facts to him. He immediately recognised that
he might gain the sympathy of the Pharisees, if he put the
plea, which he had previously pitched in a different tone, in
a way that would appeal to them. In all probability we
should find, if any information had come down to us on the
subject, that the minority favourable to Paul among the
Jews, which (as we have seen) existed in most of their towns
and colonies, usually consisted of Pharisees; and thus he
knew at once where lay his chance of making an impression.
But he did not alter his predetermined line of defence; he
merely changed the expression.
Luke’s narrative suits this interpretation perfectly; and
in Paul’s next defence—before Felix—Luke represents him
as skilfully introducing the same plea in a double form:
first, declaring that his life had been one of continuous con-
scientious obedience to the God of Israel, in conformity with
the Law, from the beginning onwards, and afterwards actu-
ally quoting part of the controverted expression which he
had given to the same fundamental truth.
But we are not concerned to maintain that Luke fully
understood Paul’s intention in giving this turn to his defence.
Luke disliked the Jews, and gives us a prejudiced picture of
The Statesmanship of Paul 97

them, though his description is so true that we can always
see the real facts shining through his account, even where
we find it prejudiced. Much as we must admire his histori-
cal genius, we must also recognise the limitations imposed
on him by his birth and training. He was a Greek, and
could not always comprehend, or wish to comprehend,
Jewish nature. The racial dislike between Greek and Jew
has always been, and still is, deep and ineradicable.
It is clear in Luke’s account of the scene in the Council
that he was filled with contempt for the clamour and dissen-
sion that arose in the court as the result of Paul’s brief de-
fence. He evidently regards the members of the court as a
set of howling fanatics, and mentally contrasts the scene with
the superior order and propriety that would prevail in the
Senate of a Greek or Roman city. Perhaps he was not able
to be quite fair or sympathetic in his estimate of the Jewish
Council.
We are here tempted to draw a comparison between
Luke and Renan in this respect. No one has been more
sympathetic in the interpretation of Luke than the great
French scholar. No one has been more generously ap-
preciative of the charm of Luke’s work. His sympathy
has led Renan first to the right conclusion as to several of
the incidents in which Luke was concerned. The sympathy
is founded on real similarity of nature. Nowhere is the
similarity more conspicuous than in the inability of both
to understand the nature of the Jews. We take as an
example the impression which Jerusalem and its surround-
ings left on their minds.
Luke could not forget his first view of Cyprus rising
out of the sea; but the first view of Jerusalem, the most
marvellously interesting of scenes to one who has true
7
98 [[[

sympathy for Jewish history and Jewish religion, has left
no impression on his book. Again, he describes vividly
how he came to Rome, crossing first the distant bounds of
the Roman land, the boundary of Rome as a State, far in
the south of Latium, then traversing the parts of this great
Rome by the Appian Road, then entering the limits of the
city Rome in a narrower sense. But, though he tells how
he made the journey with horses from Cmsarea to Jerusa-
lem, and stayed a night by the way in the house of Mnason,
one of the earliest Christians, he has nothing to say more
than that, “when we were come to Jerusalem, the brethren
received us gladly.”
And now see what sort of impression the view of
Jerusalem made on Renan.
“The parched appearance of nature in the neighbour-
hood of Jerusalem must have added to the dislike Jesus
had for the place. The valleys are without water; the soil
arid and stony. Looking into the valley of the Dead Sea,
the view is somewhat striking ; elsewhere it is monotonous.
The hill of Mizpeh, around which cluster the most ancient
historical remembrances of Israel, alone relieves the eye.”
The allusion to the Dead Sea shows that Renan is
describing the view from the Mount of Olives, the most
entrancing in the world to the student of history. But
the most dull and ignorant of tourists could not have seen
less in it than the great French scholar saw. His words
are a perfect proof of his essential lack of sympathy with
the Hebrew mind. The man who could feel and speak
thus about that wonderful scene had not the soul—with all
his genius—to understand Judaism.
The statesmanship of Paul 99

X
History is the supreme judge of all ideas. What verdict
has it pronounced on Paul’s idea? \Ne do not ask what
verdict it has pronounced on his religion—the question is
impertinent, or premature—but on the new idea that he
threw into the political movements of his time. Has
history declared that his idea was vital and real? The
reply to that question the writer has already attempted to
give in a study of The Church in che Ron-ran Empire;
and here we may sum it up in a sentence and a paragraph.
The age was ripe for Paul’s idea: the fulness of time was
come.
In the mind of the ancients no union of men, small or
great, good or bad, humble or honourable, was conceivable
without a religious bond to hold it together. The Roman
Empire, if it was to become an organic unity, must derive
its vitality and its hold on men’s minds from some religious
bond. Patriotism, to the ancients, was adherence to a
common religion, just as the family tie was, not common
blood, but communion in the family religion (for the
adopted son was as real a member as the son by nature).
Accordingly, when Augustus essayed the great task of con-
solidating the loosely aggregated parts of the vast Empire,
he had to find a religion to consecrate the unity by a
common idea and sentiment. The existing religions were
all national, while the Empire (as we saw) was striving to
extirpate the national divisions and create a supra-national
unity. A new religion was needed. Partly with conscious
intention, partly borne unconsciously on the tide of events,
the young Empire created the Imperial religion, the worship
of an idea—the cult of the Majesty of Rome as represented
100 [[1

by the incarnate deity present on earth in the person of
the reigning Emperor, and by the dead gods, his deified
predecessors on the throne. Except for the slavish adula-
tion of the living Emperor, the idea was not devoid of
nobility ; but it was incapable of life, for it degraded human
nature, and was founded on a lie. But Paul gave the
Empire a more serviceable idea. He made possible that
unity at which the Imperial policy was aiming. The true
path of development for the Empire lay in allowing free
play to the idea which Paul offered, and strengthening
itself through this unifying religion. That principle of
perfect religious freedom (which we regard as Seneca’s)
directed for atime the Imperial policy, and caused the
acquittal of Paul on his first trial in Rome. But freedom
was soon exchanged for the policy of fire and sword. The
Imperial gods would not give place to a more real religion,
and fought for two and a half centuries to maintain their
sham worship against it. When at last the idea of Paul
was, even reluctantly and imperfectly, accepted by the
Emperors, no longer claiming to be gods, it gave new life
to the rapidly perishing organisation of the Empire, ‘and
conquered the triumphant barbarian enemy. Had it not
been for Paul—if one may guess at what might have been
-no man would now remember Roman and Greek civilisa-
tion. Barbarism proved too powerful for the Grmco-Roman
civilisation unaided by the new religious bond; and every
channel through which that civilisation was preserved, or
interest in it maintained, either is now or has been in some
essential part of its course Christian after the Pauline form.
IV
PAGAN REVIVALISM AND THE PER-
SECUTIONS OF THE EARLY CHURCH
IV
PAGAN REVIVALISM AND THE PERSECU-
TIONS OF THE EARLY CHURCH
THE opinion was stated by Mommsen in his epoch-making
study in the Hzsz‘orische Z eiz‘schrifz‘, 1890, pp. 389-429, that
the Roman Imperial Government during the first two
centuries was usually unwilling to carry into effect by active
measures of repression the deep-seated and unavoidable
opposition between itself and the Christians, but that iso-
lated outbreaks of repressive activity occurred when it
was forced to act by the pressure of the general hatred
which was felt by the pagan population for the Christians.
That there is an element of truth in this view is acknow-
ledged. That it is not complete and sufficient, but one-
sided, the present writer has always maintained. The
relation between the popular dislike and the Imperial dis-
approval is not so simple as Mommsen’s view would make
it. It was not simply a case in which the one pushed and
the other was unwillingly impelled.
It is acknowledged by every one that in the two last
great persecutions the relation changed. The Imperial
Government was then intensely active, and probably went
far beyond public sentiment. At the beginning of the period
of persecution, also, Tacitus expressly declares that N ero’s
action, while it began by using the public dislike for Im—
perial purposes, soon went far beyond, and was felt as an
(103)
Io4 [ V. Pagan Revivalisve and

outrage by, popular judgment. In the account which is given
in the Apocalypse of Domitian’s persecution the same im-
pression is conveyed. The Imperial Government, the Beast
that appears from the sea, is described as the active and
directing power, the great implacable, unwearied enemy.
Thus alike at the beginning and the end the Imperial policy
is seen to be actively stimulating, instead of being simply
pushed on by, popular feeling.
None of these facts are denied. All are admitted uni-
versally, except that the historical value and meaning of the
evidence contained in the Apocalypse might be contested
by some. The difference of opinion is with regard to the
intermediate period. It is admitted on all hands that there
was a middle time, lasting at least from Trajan to the
accession of Decius, in which persecution was intermittent
and fitful. During this period popular feeling was more
effective, and the Imperial Government was in general more
inert; but the fits of activity were probably very much of
the same general character as in the first and last stages.
The difference, then, between these views is chiefly a
matter of degree, and not of essential opposition. In such
a case it is always desirable to get away from generalities
and come to individual definite facts. Much of the long
controversy about the nature of the persecutions has been
due to the want of clear facts, and the restriction of the
discussion to generalities. The narratives of martyrdoms
furnished the whole store of facts, and these provoked
almost more controversy than the persecutions; they were
necessarily one-sided and strongly prejudiced against the
Government; the last thought of the writers was to give a
fair statement of the views entertained by the Empire.
Moreover, their date and credibility was often very doubt-
the Persecutions of the Early Church 105

ful, and very few were universally admitted to be documents
contemporary with the events or founded on contemporary
documents.
In this uncertainty it would be valuable to have some
evidence giving the views and ideas of the other side, the
Government and the common people. A little evidence of
this kind has gradually been accumulating during the last
twenty years, and it is well to bring together some specimens
of it.
If the question be asked how the relation between the
Imperial Government and popular opinion was made opera-
tive practically, the first answer that suggested itself would
probably be the one which is suggested by the most familiar
and universally accepted of all the Acts of Martyrs, the
story of Polycarp-_that the clamour of the people forced
their opinion and wish on the attention of persons in
authority. Attention has been concentrated on this almost
exclusively, and the restricted view has inevitably suggested
that, while popular opinion by its clamour influenced the
Emperors, no influence was exercised by the Emperors on
popular opinion.
The method of clamour and even riot was certainly used,
but it could never be so effective in an Empire that extended
round the whole Mediterranean as in a great city or a small
compact country. It was not the only method, and it was
not the telling method. There was a way in which the
Imperial Government could learn almost directly the wishes
of the provinces and communicate its views to them. This
was through the Assembly or Commune of the Province, a
body composed of representatives of the cities and districts
meeting for purposes chiefly religious; but religion was not
so separate from social and political life then as it is now.
106 [17. Pagan Revivalisin and

The Commune united the whole province in the State re-
ligion, and was the concrete expression of its patriotism
and its sense of the Imperial unity.1 The Emperor, as the
incarnate god in whose worship and service the Commune
met, was the head of the religion from every point of view :
he was the present god, and he was the supreme priest.
The ancient mind was familiar with the idea that the god
was the first and original priest of his Own religion, for the
god revealed the ritual to men and showed them how to
approach him.
Thus the Provincial organisation of the State religion was
the natural medium of communication between the Emperor
and the popular feeling. The feeling found expression in
and through the Commune. In proportion as loyalty (ac-
cording to the accepted idea of loyalty) was strong among
the people the Commune was active and powerful, because
it was expressing in the State ritual a strong popular feeling.
In proportion as the Emperor was in harmony with the
popular feeling was the sense of loyalty intensified in the
popular mind.
The present writer has tried to describe2 how the Com-
mune of Asia worked in the persecution of Domitian, as
that persecution is described in detail in our solitary au-
thority, the Apocalypse, and the agreement of the picture
set before us in that book with the procedure of the last per-
secution, A.D. 303-311, was regarded as furnishing a com-
plete proof of the truth and trustworthiness of the picture.
The writer’s view is that a pagan revival accompanied
almost every persecution, partly arising spontaneously from
popular feeling, but partly engineered and guided by Im-
perial encouragement. The Empire allied itself with the old
1Letters to the Seven Churches, p. 96. 2Ibid., 97 ff., 105 f.
the Persecutions 0f the Early Church 107

religion, and especially the Asiatic superstitions, which had
a strong hold on their devotees, against the new Faith. In
the last persecution “the Christian sacraments and institu-
tions were imitated; heathen hierarchy established of men
of high rank. For the mob there was a clever winking
Jove; for the devout a daily heathen service.” 1 Divine
names were commonly taken by the leaders and priests:
Theoteknos, God’s Child, a N eo-Platonist philosopher, was
the guiding spirit of the pagan revival.
Some examples will now be quoted of these pagan re-
vivals, not with any intention either of exhausting the
subject or of drawing any inferences, but merely to direct
attention to the importance of collecting and studying the
facts with a view to guiding the reasoning and opinion of all
scholars on this subject.
I. The following was published in 1877 by MM. Radet
and Paris in the Bulletin de Correspendance Helle'nigue, xi.,
p. 6 3, Isauria, but its real character was not recognised :—
Ma, daughter of Pappas,2 virgin, and by family right priestess
of the goddess and the saints, restored and roofed with
tiles the temple at her own expense.
The criteria of the reactionary movement are all evident
here. The names are those of deities: Ma was the great
Cappadocian goddess, Pappas (or Papas) was a widely spread
name of the supreme god as the “Father ” of his worshippers.
The institutions and terminology of the Church are adopted,
the Virgins and the Saints (as designation of the congrega-
tion of believers). So marked is the Christian tone that for
1 Rev. H. B. Workman, Persecution in the Early Church, p. 280. I
received this book through the author’s courtesy, after my article was nearly
finished, and extract the above as illustrating the subject clearly.
2 The first editors read M. A. Pappa as a woman’s name.
108 f V. Pagan Revivalisne and

long I regarded the inscription as Christian, originating from
some heretic sect, Ma, priestess of the Mother of God (6e00,
abbreviation of 0e(o'r6/c)ov), having renovated the local
church. But on that theory the paganisation of the Church
is so strongly marked that the document could not be placed
earlier than the fifth century, whereas it is almost certainly
not later than the third century or the beginning of the
fourth. Moreover, the pagan revival is now being recog-
nised much more widely in the records of Asia Minor, and
many documents, which were formerly difficult to under-
stand, fall readily into their proper place in the reaction and
revival.
The term “ Parthenos ” was indeed used in the Anatolian I
religion to designate the female slaves of the sanctuary, and
it implies only unwedded. But I do not know that it was
ever used by pagans in this bare and simple fashion almost
like a title of hieratic rank: when it occurs in pagan docu-
ments there is something in the context to explain the
scope and sphere of the allusion, as, e.g., in the inscription
quoted in my Historical Commentary on Galatians, p. 201.
Hence it seems practically certain that the term as applied
to Ma here proves that in the temple which she restored
there existed an order of “ Virgins” similar to the Christian.
Still more clearly of Christian origin is the phrase
“ priestess of the Saints”. In a fourth century inscription of
Ancyra, the phrase “ presbyter of the Saints” occurs (C. I. G,
9258). Generally the term “Saints” applied to the con-
gregation of Christians belongs to the early time, but the
Ancyran inscription is a clear proof that the use lasted into
the fourth century. In that century “presbyter of the Holy
Church” took its place; as appears in many inscriptions
(examples quoted in the Expositor, Dec., I 905, p. 444).
the Persecutions of the Early Church 109

It is highly probable that the inscription belongs to the
time of Decius. This country was very thoroughly Chris-
tianised before that time. The old pagan temples had sunk
into decay in Isauria_just as Pliny found that they had
in Bithynia in A.D. 112, when he interfered to stop the
Christian propaganda, and soon succeeded in having the
temples restored and the worship reorganised.
2. A little epitaph found on an Imperial estate in North
Galatia probably belongs to this class :—
Anna was set up in honour by her children Am(m)on and
Apollo and Manes and Matar, in remembrance.1
The designation of four children by four Divine names
is quite distinctive of the pagan revival. The old Phrygian
form Matar for the Mother-Goddess is a peculiarly interest-
ing revivication of an ancient name. Manes is known only
in this period of revival, and seems likewise to be an old
name reintroduced (see below, No. 4).
3. Another example, engraved on two sides of a small
altar, bearing pagan reliefs more or less defaced, belongs to
Akmonia in Phrygia 2 :—
(a) Good Fortune. Aurelius Epitynchanos and Aurelius
Epinikos, along with their mother Tertulla, consecrated
their father Telesphoros, (h) in the year 334 (A.D. 249-
2 50), along with the religious society of which he was
Hierophant.
The Fortunate and the Conquering were the sons of
Telesphoros, who bore the name of the little god of Perga-
mum, the Consummator. The Divine nomenclature is
1 Published by Mr. J. G. C. Anderson, in the Fournal ofHellenic Studies,
1899, p- 84- ,
2 It was published by the writer in the Revue des Etudes Anciennes, 1901,
p. 275 ; the date was corrected by reading A for A, ibid., 1902, pp. 84, 269.
I IO [ V. Pagan Revivalisin and

evidently carefully selected. The word Epitynchanos is
never found in Greek literature, but occasionally in late
inscriptions: it is a false formation from the verb, and was
probably an invention of this late period. Telesphoros was
the Hierophant, the displayer of the sacred objects in the
mysteries celebrated by the religious society which had
been formed in Akmonia.
The date, which is fortunately stated in this inscription,
is peculiarly important, and gives the positive certainty that
this revival of paganism was coincident with the persecu-
tion of Decius. The society was apparently a private
association; and there is no direct proof that it had been
encouraged by the Imperial Government or the Commune.
But the same family is known from later documents, which
show that it enjoyed Imperial favour later.
4. Found near Akmonia in 1883: the stone is now in
Brussels, as Professor F. Cumont informs me. There are
many difficulties in the language; and the construction and.
meaning are in some places very obscure.
(a) In the year 398 (A.D. 313-314), and waiting the com-
mands of the immortals, and I that speak everything
am Athanatos Epitynchanos (Immortal Fortunate), in-
itiated by an honourable priestess of the people bear-
ing an honourable name Spatale, whom the immortal
gods glorified both within and beyond the bounds (of
the city-state Akmonia), for she redeemed many from
evil torments. The high-priest Epitynchanos, glorified
by the immortal gods, was consecrated by Diogas
Epitynchanos and his bride Tation, and their children
Onesimos and Alexander and Asklas and Epityn-
chanos.
(l) Athanatos Epitynchanos, son of Pius, glorified by
Hekate first, secondly by Manes Daos Heliodromos
the Persecutions 0/ the Early Church I I I

Zeus, thirdly Phoebus Leader and Prophetic, truly I
received the gift prophetic of truth in my own city . . .
to the first high-priest Athanatos Pius, father of
honourable sons, and to my mother Tatis, who bore
honourable children, an honourable name. . . .
(c) The Athanatoi first high-priests, brothers, Diogas and
Epitynchanos, saviours of their city, lawgivers.l
This inscription belongs to the last stage of the struggle
against Christianity, under Maximin, and entirely confirms
the account given by Eusebius and Lactantius of that
Emperor’s action. The imitation of Christian language
(John iv. 6) and Christian zeal for conversion, the profusion
of Divine names and epithets, the revival of old cults, the
respect for prophecy, and the confidence in Divine favour
and guidance—all are characteristic of the pagan revival.
The use of the term high-priest implies Imperial approval:
it cannot be doubted that in the pagan hierarchy the con-
sent of the Pontifex Maximus and the Commune was a
necessary condition in the bestowal of this title. Moreover,
it is recorded that Maximin sought to create a hierarchy
opposed to the Christian.
5. Epitynchanos is also mentioned in an inscription,
which belongs either to the Phrygian city Meiros (“beyond
the bounds of Akmonia ”) or to the Imperial estate Tembrion,
as an astrologer, astronomer and diviner, honoured with the
citizenship of many cities, and leaving sons who were equally
skilled in his arts. This Epitynchanos must belong to the
family mentioned in Nos. 3, 4. Now it was pointed out
when this inscription was published2 that Epitynchanos
belonged to Akmonia, and flourished about A.D. 260 to 310.
1 Cities and Bishoprics 0f Phrygia, ii., pp. 566-568.
21bid., ii., p. 790: A. Souter, in the Classical Review, 1897.
1 12 l V. Pagan Revivalisne and

He may therefore be probably regarded either as the son of,
or as identical with, Epitynchanos son of Telesphoros, and
we may suppose that he disused the commonplace name
Aurelius (which was almost universally used about 250, and
was much less fashionable about 313). This description of
the character of Epitynchanos as astrologer and diviner
completes the picture given in 3 and agrees exactly with
that given in 4.
6. The most important evidence bearing on this
question comes from the fragmentary Acta of a society
called the Tekmoreian Guest-Friends on the Imperial
estates near Pisidian Antioch. The constitution of this
religious association is uncertain; but it seems in practice
to have consisted of the population resident on the Imperial
estates as organised for religious purposes (plehs eollegii)
together with various strangers, mainly visitors from other
Imperial estates, but also to some extent persons from the
Hellenic cities, who were falling away from Hellenism and
relapsing into the older Orientalism of the country and
deserting the Hellenic cities to settle in the villages on the
Imperial estates. Numerous questions of history and soci-
ology are roused by this unique series of documents ; these
questions are indicated, though space and time forbade full
treatment, in the first complete publication of the docu-
ments, Studies in the History and Art of the Eastern Roman
Provinces, written for the Aberdeen Quatercentenary and
now published by Messrs. Hodder & Stoughton, 1906, pp.
305-377; but at present we only touch on the one subject
of immediate interest.
The most important documents found in this locality are
(1) lists of subscribers with the amount of their subscriptions ;
when the inscriptions are complete at the top there is a
the Persecutions of the Early Church 113

preamble describing the character of the subscribers and
the purpose of the donations ; (2) dedications to the Goddess
Artemis or to the God Emperor (once the Gods Emperors) ;
(3) a village act, dated by a priest (of Artemis), who seems
to be an Imperial procurator, and expressed in the name
of the village people and a slave (of the Emperor), who
resided on the estate as manager and member of the village
Assembly (Gerousia); (4) the epitaph of a Roman, appar-
ently freedman and procurator of the Emperor Claudius,
holding the priesthood of Artemis.
The subscribers and dedicators are repeatedly called the
Tekmoreian Guest-Friends.
That the Guest-Friends were a sort of secret society, so
called because they recognised one another by a sign or
Tekmor, was suggested in my Historical Geography of Asia
Minor, p. 411, and Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia, i., p.
97; ii., pp. 359, 630; but the alternative explanation that
the epithet was local and derived from a place called Tek-
moreion, was preferred by the only American and German
scholars who have expressed an opinion. The connection
with the old epic Greek word Tekmor was confirmed in
1905 by the discovery of a list in which the verb Te/c/wpeziew
is used. The name given to the members of the society
was derived from the performance of some action designated
by this verb. In one case it is mentioned that the act is
performed for the second time.
Inasmuch as new words had to he invented for the
occasion the act must have been a novel one. But the
society was religious, uniting the old Anatolian ritual with
the worship of the Emperor; acts of the old ritual had old
names; therefore, the act which required a newly invented
name must have been part of the new element in the com-
8
I I4 [ V. Pagan [fevivalisin and

bined religion, i.e., it was connected with some sign of loyalty
and devotion to the Imperial religion. What this sign was
cannot as yet be determined from the extant evidence ; but
every one must involuntarily think of “them that had re-
ceived the mark of the Beast and them that worshipped his
image”. The large subscriptions of money recorded in the
Tekmoreian lists were applied to the making of statues of
the Lord Emperor and the Good Fortune of the Emperors
and the great Goddess Artemis, together with various im-
plements of the ritual: the purpose was always religious.
The society was the expression of an alliance between the
Imperial power and the old Anatolian religious authority;
that old authority seems to have been exercised by the
Imperial procurator, who represented the Emperor and
managed his interests. The only two priests of the great
Goddess mentioned in the documents hitherto discovered
were apparently procurators and Imperial freedmen (though
owing to the circumstances the procuratorship is not men-
tioned). The character of the Imperial system was to main-
tain as far as possible the old system of government on the
estates, and this could be most conveniently done by making
the procurator hold the old priesthood with all the power
that accompanied the office.
It is true that the anti-Christian purpose is never men-
tioned in the inscriptions. Even if we possessed much
fuller and more elaborate copies of the Tekmoreian records,
that purpose would probably not be alluded to. “ It was
apparently a fashion and an affectation among a certain
class of Greek men of letters about A.D. 160-240 to ignore
the existence of the Christians, and to pretend to confuse
them with the Jews. Those high-souled philosophic
Greeks would not even know the name, for it was a
the Persecutions 0f the Early Church I I 5

solecism to use such a vulgar and barbarous word.”1 So
I wrote in 1892; and now it is apparent that the affecta-
tion was widely spread over society generally, and not
confined to Greek men of letters. The educated Greeks
were not unwilling to ally themselves with the uneducated
Orientals against their common enemy; they failed to see
that in doing so they were working out the ruin of Greek
education. In allying themselves with the uneducated
they must gradually sink to the lower level; and one of
the many remarkable and interesting features of the
Tekmoreian lists is that they show the way in which
individuals were leaving the Greek city life and going
back to the lower educational level of Oriental peasant
life.2 Christianity was the religion of an educated people,
and the last and worst evil of the long struggle was that
in Diocletian’s persecution the more cultured section of
the Church was to a large extent killed out, so that on
both sides education deteriorated and the quality of society
in general was depreciated.3
Nor is any allusion ever made in the Tekmoreian
documents to Imperial suggestion or approval. On the
contrary, it is apparent that an intentional silence is pre-
served with regard to the action of Imperial officials. In
the Tekmoreian lists, only village officers as a rule are
mentioned. Even the priest does not appear in them,
because the priesthood was held by the procurator. As
is pointed out in the publication of the documents,4 there
is no other explanation possible of this peculiar fact except
1 The Church in the Roman Empire, p. 264.
2 Studies in the History and Art of the Eastern Provinces, p. 357.
3 Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia, ii., p. 509.
4 Studies, etc., p. 313.
116 IV. Pagan Revivalisni and

that “the intention was to show the spontaneous nature
of the movement”. The procurator and managers (aetores)
took no direct part; and the aeta emanate directly from the
populace. Yet this semblance conceals what must have
been the real facts. It must be remembered that the popu-
lation on the Imperial estates were in a different position
from the rest of the population of the provinces. The
Emperor was their lord; they were his immediate subjects.
He was the heir to the personal authority over them, which
had once belonged to the deity, whose servants they were;
and his procurator was the priest of the deity, and exercised
that authority on the Emperor’s behalf. Although there is
no proof that the constitution of this society was approved
by the Emperor, I do not see how this can be doubted.
The society aimed only at pleasing the Emperor; it acted
in loyal and eager devotion ; it lived for the Emperor and
the great Goddess Artemis. That it had reason to believe
that its action was approved by the Emperor is beyond
doubt; it is a fundamental and inevitable part of the
situation.
Here then we have clear proof of a considerable or-
ganisation, emanating from the Antiochian Imperial estates,
and embracing members from many Asian Imperial estates,
working for the revival of the old Anatolian religion in
association with the Imperial worship. What is the date
of formation? It is pointed out in the already quoted
publication, p. 350 ff., that the Tekmoreian lists fall into
two groups separated by an interval of about a generation
(somewhere about twenty to forty years). The later group
mentions a single Emperor and cannot therefore have been
composed under Diocletian (except in the first year of his
reign). While certainty is not attainable until further
the Persecutions of the Early Church 117

documents are found, the probability is that the earlier
group belongs to the time about A.D. 215-225 and the later
about 245-255. Thus, perhaps as early as the first quarter
of the third century, certainly not later than about the
middle, we have proof of the existence of this great re-
ligious association springing from a pagan revival, lasting
for at least about thirty years, and countenanced by the
Imperial authority. “We can hardly be mistaken in
connecting this institution with the greatest political fact
of the third century, the war between the State and the
Christian faith. The critical and determining question
about each successive Emperor at that time turns on his
attitude to the Christians; and the test of the real import
of every event then is its bearing on the relation between
the Christians and the State. The history of the Empire
requires to be rewritten from a more statesmanlike point
of view, via, how the great struggle of religions and the
social systems which they implied was fought out on the
field of the Roman world.” 1
This dating would well explain the origin of the move-
ment. The alliance of philosophy with a revived paganism
(studiously ignoring Christianity) is the guiding and origin-
ating thought in Philostratus’ Life of Apollo/nus of T yana,
an imaginative work which was suggested in court circles
and composed in Rome about A.D. 210-220. Philosophy
is in this work the criterion of the good and virtuous man;
and the good man is he who worships the gods within
the earth, the wicked man he who despises them.2 The
Tekmoreian society shows the same idea, spreading in
humbler circles from a court origin.
1 Studies in the History and Art of the Eastern Provinces, p. 347.
2See, e.g., ii., 39.
I18 [ V. Pagan Revivalisin and

A conjecture about the Tekmor may be added here.
From the words of Basil, Epist. 191,1 it appears that there
was an old custom (apparently no longer practised in his
time), “which was once the boast of the Church. Brothers
from each church, travelling from one end of the world to
the other, were provided with little tokens (Synzkola), and
found all men fathers and brothers.”
In Epist. 203 he again alludes to the same ancient
Christian custom, now quite obsolete: “We, the sons of
fathers who made the law that by brief notes the proofs of _
communion (ozjpfioka e’vriucglaq) should be carried about
from one end of the earth to the other, and that all should
be citizens and familiars with all, now sever ourselves from
the whole world ”.
These two letters were written about A.D. 374-375 ; and
the custom to which they allude evidently belongs to the
pre-Constantine period : it was one of the devices for main-
taining the unity of the early Church.
The Tekmoreian society may have been formed on the
analogy of the Church, separated in its parts but united by
constant intercourse and hospitality. Members of the
society, on this view, would come from many parts of
Phrygia and Pisidia to share in the worship of Artemis of
the Lakes (just as the Christians still come to the Panegyris
of the Virgin-Mother of the Lakes from great distances);
and displayed in the celebration of the Mysteries their
Symbolon, as a proof of their participation in the resistance
to the common enemy. .
7. At Temenenothyrae (Ushak) occurs a very brief
epitaph (C. [. G, 3865 ; Studies in tke History, etc., of tke
Eastern Provinces, p. 2 5) :—
1Quoted more fully in this volume, Art. XV.
the Persecutions of the Early Church 119

(the tomb of Marcus, citizen,1 hiloso her, friend of all.
P P
In these five words is summed up the Hellenic reaction.
The citizenship is emphasised, because the unwillingness of
Christians to perform the duties of citizenship was always
an offence to the Hellenes. Philosophy is the religion and
the guiding principle of Marcus’s life. The last phrase is
peculiarly characteristic. The Christians had made charity
and kindness to others a prime duty ; and the phrase “friend
of all ” (war/my (hikes) in an epitaph was almost a proof of
Christianity. At Nova Isaura the epitaph of the Blessed
Papas applies this phrase to him in the third century.2 At
Ancyra in the fourth century, we find the epitaph already
quoted from C. l. G, 9258 :—-
Here lies the slave of God Theodore, presbyter of the
saints and silver-worker,3 the friend of all. He was
perfected on November 15, Ind. 5.
While it is difficult to judge about such a short docu-
ment, the epitaph of Marcus seems to be earlier than Dio-
cletian; and some may consider it to prove that pagans
used the formula “friend of all,” and that the Christians
adopted this, as they did many other pagan customs and
expressions. But, while not disposed to maintain that the
Christians invented the formula and quite ready to admit
that they took it from pagan usage, I feel convinced that
Marcus of Temenenothyrae belonged to the popular philoso-
phie reaction against the new religion, and that his epitaph
1The word 1r0Mh'r0v is better taken as a common noun in Ionic form;
but some may prefer to render “Marcus Poliétés ”. Poetic and Epic forms
are not rare in the Greek of Central Asia Minor about A.D. 200-400.
2Studies in the History of the Eastern Provinces, p. 22.
3 See Art. XV. of this volume.
12o [ V. Pagan Revivalisin and

emphasised the points in which he (or his friends for him 1)
gloried in surpassing the Christians.
8. Mr. J. G. C. Anderson considers (in all probability
justly) that the few markedly and obtrusively pagan inscrip-
tions found on the Imperial estate of Tembrion are connected
with this “ awakening of pagan devotion towards the end of
the third century ”.2 One of these is inscribed on an altar.3
Erected by Symmachos, son of Antyllos, and his sons
Antyllos, Alexander and Symmachos, to Apollo of
Klaros in accordance with an oracle.
Stablish me in this land an altar of fragrant incense4 look-
ing towards the rays of the far-seeing sun; and holy
sacrifices offer thereon every month, so that I be your
helper and make your fruits grow in their season. For
I am he that provideth the fruits for mortal men, whom
I wish to preserve and whom I know how to glorify.
The proper names are commonplace and not divine, so
that one sign of the pagan revival is missing. But we have
here the establishment of a new cult in a district where
Christian inscriptions abound. It is quite probable that the
new cult and the oracle originated from Epitynchanos, whose
influence in this neighbourhood we saw to have been active
in the second half of the third century. The persons men-
tioned are the ordinary people of the district, the devotees and
perhaps the dupes of the astrologer. Hence they do not
bear divine names : it was the leaders that took such names.
1He probably prepared his own grave, a common Phrygian custom.
The possibility, however, remains that his friends composed his epitaph after
his death; but, if so, they certainly composed it in his spirit and tone.
2 Studies in the History and Art of the Eastern Roman Provinces, ed. by
W. M. Ramsay (Hodder & Stoughton, 1906, p. 128), p. 200.
3Ibid., p. 128.
4 The word is 1row6ne'a (otherwise unknown) whose meaning is doubtful :
perhaps “conspicuous ”.
the Persecutions of the Early Church 121

In general, when one finds late inscriptions showing
strong pagan sentiment in a district where Christian inscrip-
tions of early period abound, one is justified in suspecting
that they belong to the pagan reaction ; but all or most of
the criteria described in Nos. 1-5 must be united before the
suspicion can be strengthened into certainty.
It is worthy of note that so many of the inscriptions
bearing on this subject are connected with Imperial estates.
Besides the whole group of Tekmoreian lists, Nos. 2 and
5 and 8 come from Imperial estates, and 3 and 4 refer
either to the same person as 5 or to his family, and were
found on the fringe of the same estate. It is not impossible
that even 4 may originally have been actually erected on
that estate; and in fact it was found within the limits (as
I have placed them) of the estate; but the term high-priest
seems more favourable to the origin from a city such as
Akmonia, and 3 was found in the territory of that city,
which was conterminous with the estate. A wider survey
of the documents of this class would probably confirm the
principle that the Imperial estates were the centres of the
anti-Christian movement and of the pagan revivals; but
further exploration is needed and the discovery of more
documents may be confidently expected. What is certain
is that the connection between the Emperor and the popu-
lation of his estates was close and direct, that the cultivators
of his soil were under his almost direct superintendence
through his procurator, and that personal loyalty to him
was peculiarly strong among them. Nowhere in Asia, and
especially Phrygia, should we expect that the Imperial in-
stitutions and religion would be so strong as on the Imperial
estates in Asia and in Galatic Phrygia; and the inscriptions
found on the enormous Ormelian and Antiochian estates
122 [ V. Pagan Revivalisne

confirm this expectation. On the other hand, on the estate
of Tembrion Christianity was remarkably strong in the
third century, though far from universally triumphant. But
such are the anomalies that mark the spread of the new faith.
It is well known that “the household of Cesar” was one of
the earliest strongholds of Christianity in Rome; and the
Tembrian estates of Caesar form an exception to the rule
that the Imperial estates were the strongholds of paganism
in Asia Minor.1
NOTE—As my wife reminds me, the use of syinkola to
rouse religious feeling against an enemy (in the way supposed
on p. 1 18) is well known in Asiatic history. As an example
she quotes the cakes (chupatties) which were passed round
as a preliminary to the Indian Mutiny, and were sometimes
carried long distances; and this example recalls the sugges-
tion which I have made about the nature of the Tekmor in
Studies in the History and Art of the Eastern Provinces,
P- 349-
1Studies in the History of the Eastern Provinces, pp. 312 f., 348 ff., 358.
V
THE WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN MARY
AT EPHESUS
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\7
THE WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN MARY AT
EPHESUS
I. THE HoUsE OF THE VIRGIN
THE recent discovery of the so-called House of the Virgin
at Ephesus, where the mother of the Saviour spent the
latter part of her life, and where she died and was buried,
forms a curious and interesting episode in the history of
religion—not indeed the history of the Christian religion,
for it hardly touches even the fringe thereof, but certainly
the history of Anatolian religion or religiosity. Briefly put,
the story is that an uneducated woman in a German con-
vent saw in a vision the place in the hills south of Ephesus
where the Virgin Mary had lived, and described it in detail,
immediately after she had the vision; that her vision was
printed and published in Germany; that after the lapse of
fifty years the book came in 1890 into the hands of some
Roman Catholics in Smyrna, by whom the trustworthiness
of the vision was keenly discussed ; that a priest in Smyrna,
who took a leading part in controverting the authority of the
vision, made a journey into the mountains in order to prove
by actual exploration that no such House existed; that on
the third day of continuous search in the rugged unknown
mountains, on Wednesday, 29th July, 1891 (the Feast of St.
Martha), he found the House exactly as it was described
(125)
126 V. The Worship of

in the published account of the vision, some miles south of
Ephesus, amid surroundings which were also accurately de-
scribed therein; and that he returned to Smyrna convinced
of the truth against his previous judgment. A Roman
Catholic festival has since the discovery been arranged and
celebrated annually at the holy spot. Though the justifi-
ability of this festival is warmly disputed by other Catholics
outside of the neighbourhood of Smyrna and Ephesus, it
may perhaps gradually make its way to general recognition
and ultimately receive official authorisation.
What seems to be the most real point of interest in
this story is that through this strange and roundabout
method the permanence of Anatolian religion has asserted
itself. Those Catholics who maintain that this is the House
of the Virgin have really restored the sanctity of a locality
where the Virgin Mother was worshipped thousands of
years before the Christian era, and have worked out in per-
fection a chapter in the localisation of Anatolian religion.
We do not mean by this that there has been any deception
in the gradual evolution of the “discovery”. When the
story was first told to the present writer at Smyrna in
1901, the highest character was attributed by quite trust-
worthy and unprejudiced informants to the Catholic priest
who finally made the discovery of the House. He was
described as an engineer, a man of science and education,
who had entered the priesthood in mature years after a life
of activity and experience, and also as a man of honour
and unimpeachable veracity; and his Original attitude of
scepticism and strong disapproval in face of the state-
ments narrated in the vision, at the time when the book first
became known in Smyrna, was said to have been a public
and well-authenticated fact. There seems to be no reason
the Virgin Mary at Ephesus I27

(apart from the fixed resolve to disbelieve) for doubting his
good faith and his change of opinion when he went and saw
for himself.
Equally improbable is it to suppose that there can be
any bad faith or deception in the earliest stages of the
evolution of this modern legend. The earliest publication
of the visions of the German nun, Anne Catharine Emme-
rich, is not accessible to the present writer, and Professor
A. Souter finds that it is not in the Bodleian Library; but
a translation in English was published long before the actual
discovery took place; and any person may with a little
trouble satisfy himself of the existence of the printed record
of this and other visions in the first half of the nineteenth
century.1
Nor is it a reasonable supposition that Anne Catharine
Emmerich had access to any careful description of the
localities south of Ephesus. Those hills have been un-
explored and unknown. Although the sacred place is not
far from the site of the ancient city, yet the scanty popula-
tion of the modern village Ayassoluk (Hagios Theolégos,
St. John) have no interest or knowledge in such matters;
and western explorers had never penetrated into the hill
1The fundamental authority seems to be the publication of C. Brentano
on the Life of the Blessed Virgin founded on the Visions of A. C. Emmerich
(Cotta, Stuttgart, 1841). See also the Life of A. C. E. by Helen Ram
(London, Burns & Oates, 1874); and also various works published after
the “discovery,” Panaghia-Capouli, on Maison de la Sainte Vierge pres
cl’Ephese (Oudin, Paris and Poitiers, 1896); Ephese ou yerusalem Tombeau
de la Suinte Vierge (id., ib., I897); The Death of the Blessed Virgin Mary
and her Assumption into Heaven, from the Meditations of A. C. E.: trans-
lated from the French by Geo. Richardson (Duffy & Co., Dublin, 1897).
I have seen only the third and fourth of these five books; also a Greek
counterblast by Archdeacon Chrysostomos, printed at Athens and published
at Smyrna in 1896, under the title of Kavrovin‘y-Hauayfa. I have visited
Ephesus with a French translation of the first in my hands.
128 V. The Worship of

country, which was extremely dangerous as a resort of
brigands until a quite recent date. Moreover, the nun is
described as having had little education: she was the
daughter of poor peasants of Westphalia, who is said to
have had an aversion to reading, and rarely to have
touched a book. Her visions, so far as we know them,
confirm this account. They are the imaginings of a simple
mind, trained in the popular Roman Catholic ideas and
traditions about the Saints, Anna, Joachim, and the rest,
and weaving slightly elaborated forms of the ordinary tales.
There are also some evident traces of information gained
from reading or hearing descriptions of Ephesus (as dis-
tinguished from the hills south of Ephesus), and this in-
formation is not always accurately worked up in the details.
One who was bent on finding deception in the incidents
would seize on the circumstances in which the visions
were committed to writing. The nun’s fame came to the
knowledge of the world when there appeared marks on her
body like those on the body of the Saviour; and medical
and ecclesiastical examination vindicated her personal
character. Count Stolberg’s letter to a friend, describing
his visit to her, was printed, and attracted the attention
of the poet Brentano. The latter went to see her for the
first time on 24th September, 1818; and in subsequent
visits he wrote down her visions, which he afterwards
published. Probably the literary power of the amanuensis
improved the literary quality of the visions; but we may
justifiably refuse to think that Brentano invented anything,
or made pure additions to the words of Anne. It is, how-
ever, true that a considerable interval elapsed between his
hearing the visions from Anne and his publication of them.
Anne died in 1824, and Brentano’s book appeared only in
the Virgin Mary at Ephesus 129

1841. But even those who would maintain that the visions
are the highly idealised memory or the invention of Brentano,
and not the imaginings of Anne, only put the difficulty one
step away. They explain nothing. There is no reason to
think that Brentano could have had access to any peculiar
source of knowledge of Ephesian localities and mountains,
from which he could learn anything important about the
history of that nook among the hills during the Middle
Ages.
The remarkable fact, quite inexplicable by the hypo-
thesis of fraud or deliberate invention, remains that there
is a sacred place where the House was discovered: it has
been a sacred place, to which the Orthodox Greek peasants
went on pilgrimage, throughout later Christian times: in
the present article an attempt will be made to prove that
it was a sacred place in the remote pre-Christian times.
It seems a more credible thing that the vision of a secluded
and imaginative maiden should have suggested the search
and the discovery of this obscure locality than that the
fanciful invention of a German poet should do so.
But it is really an unimportant detail whether the nun
saw in her ecstatic meditation the House among the Ephe-
sian hills (as it seems to us most probable that she did),
or the poet invented the description by reconstructing into
a poetic picture with happy power the elements which he
had gained from reading and study. Either of these theories
is almost equally remote from the one practical fact, via,
the process whereby the unity of Ephesian religion worked
itself out, turning to its own purposes certain Christian
names and forms, and trampling under foot all the spirit
of Christianity.
The brief reference to this subject in the present writer’s
9
130 V. The Worship of

Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia, p. 218, has caused
some inquiries, and this episode in the history of religion
seems worthy of more careful and detailed study.
II. THE SURVIVAL OF PAGAN CULTs
The fundamental fact, via, the continuity of religious
history in Asia Minor, is one which there is no need to
prove. Yet it forms so remarkable a chapter in the history
of religious ideas, that we may profitably give a sketch of
the prominent facts.
The introduction of Christianity into the country broke
the continuity for the moment. But the old religious feel-
ing was not extirpated: it soon revived, and took up the
struggle once more against its new rival. Step by step it
conquered, and gradually destroyed the real quality of
Christianity. The old local cults took on new and out-
wardly Christianised forms; names were changed, and
outward appearance; a show of Christian character was
assumed. The Iconoclasts resisted the revival for a time,
but the new paganism was too strong for them. The deep-
seated passion for art and beauty was entirely on the side of
that Christianised paganism, into which the so-called Ortho-
dox Church had degenerated; and architecture together
with the painting of images (though not sculpture) was its
chosen servant. Whereas the rhetorician Aristides in the
second century had invoked in his sickness the guidance
and healing power of Asklepios of Smyrna, the emperor
John Vatatzes, in the thirteenth century, when he was
afflicted by disease, went to invoke the Christ of Smyrna.l
“Owens "rq: e’iteTo-e 1rpotricvm’7try Xpttr'rq’J, Acr015., p. 91. See H istor. Geogr.
of Asia Minor, p. 116, Church in R. Emh, p. 466. I know no other case in
which the person of Christ is degraded into a mere local deity. As a general
Me V z'rgz'rz Mary a! Ep/zesus I 31

The old Greek sailors and Roman merchants, when voyaging
or about to voyage in the changeable weather of the Black
Sea (where dangerous and sudden storms might occur at
almost any season of the year and where there was no sure
season of fair weather, such as could be calculated on with
confidence in the Aegean or the Mediterranean), had ap-
pealed to Achilles Pontarches, the Lord of the Sea (Pontus),
to protect and guide them. The sailors of the Christian
period appealed to St. Phocas of Sinope for aid. Similarly
the sailors of the Levant, who had formerly prayed to the
Poseidon of Myra, afterwards invoked St. Nicholas of Myra.1
There is little essential difference in religious feeling between
the older practice and the new: paganism is only slightly
disguised in these outwardly Christianised cults.
Examples might be multiplied. They occur in;all parts
of the country, as exploration enables us to gather some
idea of the religious history of the different districts.
Local variety is inevitably hostile to the Christian spirit,
because Christianity is unity, and its essence lies in the
common brotherly feeling of the scattered parts of a great
single whole. In the centre of Cappadocia one of the
greatest sanctuaries of the land was that of Zeus of Venasa
(where the name Zeus is the Hellenisation of a native
rule, some saint takes the place of the old local impersonation of Divine
power, and the figure of the Saviour stands apart on a higher plane; but
here (and perhaps in other cases unobserved by me) the analogy of Asklepios
the Saviour has been seductive. Zeus the Saviour would also be a tempting
analogy.
1 St. Paul the Traveller (1895), p. 298. Add to the remarks there given
a reference to Mélanges Parrot (1902), p. 25, where M. Bourguet remarks
that the existence of a Church of St. Nicholas at Castri, the ancient Delphi,
would alone have been a sufficient proof that Poseidon had a worship there
in old time, but that now epigraphic proof has been discovered of the exist-
ence of a shrine of Poseidon called Poteidanion.
132 V. The Worship of

Cappadocian divine idea); his annual progress through his
own country was one of the greatest festivals of the year;
and it may be taken for granted that in the usual Anato-
lian style the chief priest wore the dress and even bore the
name of the god. In the fourth century, when we find
that a Christian deacon at Venasa takes the leading part in
a festival of somewhat orgiastic character accompanied by
a dancing chorus of women celebrants, and that this leader
does not appear in his own character, but wears the dress
and plays the part of the Patriarch, we recognise the old
pagan elements in a slightly varied garb. This particular
manifestation of the reviving paganism was put down by
the strict puritan spirit of Basil the Great; but it was rare
that such tendencies, which broke out broadcast over the
land, found achampion of Christian purity to resist them.
The feeling of the mass of the Cappadocian Christians
seems rather to have been against Basil in this case, though
his energy and intense fervour of belief, combined with his
authority as supreme bishop of the province, swept away
all opposition, and converted lukewarm friends or even
opponents into his agents and servants in resisting the new
paganism.1
On the frontier of Pisidia and Phrygia there is a fine
fountain of cold water beside the village of Yassi-Euren.
The village is purely Mohammedan; but the Christians
once a.- year come on pilgrimage to it as a sacred fountain,
or Ayasma, and this Christian name is applied to it even
by the Mohammedan villagers. Finding there a Latin
inscription dedicated to Hercules Restitutor, we cannot
doubt that Hercules (who is often known as the god of
1On the whole episode see The Church in the Roman Empire, chap.
xviii., p. 443 ff.
the Virgin Mary at Ephesus 133

medicinal, and especially of hot, springs) was regarded as
the Divine power who restored health to the sick by means
of this healing spring, Hercules being, of course, merely a
Latinised expression for the native Anatolian god of the
healing power. Article VI. gives other cases.
Frequently the same saint is, through some natural and
obvious association, selected in widely different localities
to be the Christian embodiment of a pagan deity. The
choice of St. Nicholas at Delphi, already quoted, may
be a case of transference and imitation. But the choice of
St. Demetrios in place of the goddess Demeter in various
parts of Greece was probably suggested separately and in-
dependently in several different places; and the cause must
have been pure resemblance of name, since the sex differs
and there is no other apparent correspondence. Moreover,
in Anatolia, the Great Mother, the Meter, experiences the
same transformation, and, beyond all doubt, the same
reason caused the selection of this particular Christian
substitute; thus, for example, the holy Phrygian city,
Metropolis,1 the city of the Mother goddess, was transformed
into the Christian Demetrioupolis.
For a totally different reason the correspondence of the
goddess Artemis to the Virgin Mary was equally striking
and widely recognised. In both cases the virgin nature
was a fundamental principle in the cult, and yet in both
cases motherhood was an equally, if not more, deep-seated
element of the worship on its mystic side. For reasons
1The proof seems now fairly complete and convincing that the site of
this Metropolis was a few miles farther north than I formerly placed it.
It was the city centre of the territory in which were the great monuments of
early Phrygia, the tombs of Midas and the other kings of the archaic
dynasty, the true metropolis of early Phrygia.
134 V. The Worship of

that have been fully explained often elsewhere1 the Virgin
Artemis was the divine mother and teacher and guide of
her people. It will not be difficult to show that there was
a similar thought underlying the worship of the Virgin in
Anatolia.
The best authority for the early stage of the worship
of the Virgin Mother of God at Ephesus is the Acts of
the Council held there in A.D. 431 (on which see below,
§ iii). A sermon delivered in A.D. 429 by Proclus, Bishop
of Cyzicus, apparently at Constantinople, forms a sort of
introduction to the Acts of the Council. The occasion and
sacred ceremony at which the sermon was delivered is
there formally entitled “The Panegyris of the Virgin”
(wapdevuco) wawj'yvpts‘).
The subject of the sermon is “celebrating the glorifica-
tion of the race of women ” ; it is “the glory of the Female,”2
due to her “who was in due time Mother and Virgin”.
“ Earth and Sea3 do honour to the Virgin.” “Let Nature
skip in exultation: women are honoured. Let Humanity
dance in chorus: virgins are glorified. The sacred Mother
of God, Mary, has brought us here together.” She is called,
in terms hardly distinguishable from the language of pagan=
ism, “the fleece very pure, moist from the rain of heaven,
through whose agency the Shepherd put on Him (the form
and nature of) the sheep,4 she who is slave and mother, virgin
and heaven, the sole bridge by which God passes to men.”
1E.g., Hastings’ Dictionary, art. “ Diana,” and “Religion of Greece and
Asia Minor ”.
2Toii :ye'vovs 'rdv 'yuz/aucdu/ Kazixmta 'rb reAot'uLez/oz/ and 565a 'rofl Bi'jAeos.
1‘ Capitals are needed here to express the strong personification, which
approximates to the pagan conception of Gaia and Thalassa as deities.
4‘O rroi) e5 oz’ipavc'éu {zen-oi) Itadapa’rra'ros mflros, a5 05 6 Hot/13111 'rb 1rp618a'r01/
, I
61166 vo'a'ro .
Me V z'rgz'rz Mary at Epkesus I 3 5

It seems impossible to mistake or to deny the meaning
implied in this language. The Anatolian religious feeling
desiderated some more clear and definite expression of an
idea dear to it, beyond the expression which was otherwise
contained in the rites and language of Christianity. That
idea was the honour, the influence, the inevitableness in
the world, of the female element in its double aspect of
purity and motherhood. “Purity is the material,”1 but
purity that is perfected in maternity. The Virgin, the
Mother, the purity of motherhood, was to the popular
Anatolian religious sentiment the indispensable crown of
the religious idea. This beautiful and remarkable senti-
ment shows on what a real and strong foundation the
worship of the Virgin in Anatolia rested, and how the
Iconoclast movement was weakened by its opposition to a
deep-seated Anatolian sentiment. Perhaps in the West
the worship of the Virgin rests on a different basis. So
far as I am aware her character has been regarded in the
West rather as a mere adjunct or preparation for the Divine
nature of her Son, while in the Anatolian cult (if I am
right) it has been looked at and glorified for its own sake
and as an end in itself, as the Divine prototype of the
nature and duty of womanhood in its most etherealised
form.
It would be an interesting and useful task to investigate
how far the view which was taken in the West can be
traced as guiding the writings of the great writers and
theologians who championed the worship of the Virgin in
the Eastern Church. There was, certainly, a marked
diversity in the East between the popular view and what
may be called the sacerdotal view, held by the educated
1"Exez yap zi'yuefas z'nrdeeo'w.
136 V. The Worshijfi of

theologians. The former was much more frankly pagan.
The latter took on a superficial adaptation to Christian
doctrine, and for this purpose the person of Christ had to
be made the central, governing thought and the Mother
must be regarded only as subsidiary. But this subject lies
outside the scope of this article, and beyond the powers and
knowledge of the present writer. It may be added, how-
ever, that the divergence can probably be traced down to
the present day in the cult of the Virgin Mother at Ephesus.
The Greek sacerdotal view seems never to have been that
the Virgin Mary lived or died at Ephesus, though it recog-
nised the holiness of the sacred place and regarded it as
specially devoted to the person of the Virgin and as a
special abode of her power. The popular view desired her
personal presence there during her life, and maintained in a
half-articulate fashion the idea that she came to Ephesus
and lived there and died there. The sacerdotal expression
seems in some cases to have shrunk from a frank and
pointed contradiction of the popular view, while it could
not formally declare it in its thoroughgoing form. In the
Acts of the Council of Ephesus this intermediate form of
expression seems to rule. As we shall see in § iii. there is
nothing said there which can be taken as proving that the
belief in the real living presence of the Virgin Mary at
Ephesus was held. But the champions of Mariolatry relied
on the popular support; and, in the Council which was
called to judge and condemn the views of Nestorius, the
opponent of Mariolatry, they were unwilling to say anything
that could be seized on by him and his followers as telling
against the worship of Mary, or that might tend to alienate
popular feeling.
It is equally impossible to overlook the fact that some-
the Virgin Mary at E phesus 1 3 7

thing approximating to that idea of the sanctity and Divine
authority of the maternal and the feminine element was
peculiarly characteristic of Anatolian religion and society
in all ages and variations of the common general type.
The idea was not so beautifully expressed in the older
religion; the ritual form was frequently allied to much
that was ugly and repulsive; it was often perverted into
a mere distortion of its original self. But in many cases
these perversions allow the originally beautiful idea to shine
through the ugliness that has enveloped it, and we can
detect with considerable probability that the ugliness is
due, at least in part, to degradation and degeneration. The
article “Diana of the Ephesians,” in Hastings’ Dictionary
of the Bihle, suffers from the failure to distinguish between
earlier and later elements in the Anatolian ritual; the
writer attained to a clearer conception of the subject in
preparing the article in the same work on the “Religion of
Greece and Asia Minor,” though even there it is not ex-
pressed with sufficient precision and definiteness.
Closely connected with this fundamental characteristic
in Anatolian religion is the remarkable prominence of the
female in the political and social life of the country. Many
of the best attested cases of Mutter-recht in ancient history
belong to Asia Minor. Even under the Roman rule (when
Western ideas, springing from war, conquest, and the reign
of violence and brute strength were dominant), the large
number of women mentioned as magistrates and officials,
even in the most Hellenised and Romanised cities of the
whole country, strikes every student of the ancient monu-
ments as an unusual feature. It can hardly be explained
except through the power of that old native belief and
respect for the mother and the teacher. The Mother-
138 V. The Worship of

Goddess was merely the religious prototype and guarantee
and enforcement of the social custom.1
An indubitable example of the Virgin Artemis trans-
formed into the Christian Mother of God is found at the
northern end of the great double lake, called Limnai in
ancient times, and now known by two names for the two
parts, Hoiran-Gol and Egerdir-Gol. Near the north-eastern
corner of the lakes there is still said to be a sacred place of
the Christians, to which they come on pilgrimage from a
distance, though there is no Christian settled population
nearer than Olu-Borlu (the ancient Apollonia). A large
body of inscriptions has been collected from the neighbour-
hood, showing that there was here a peculiar worship of the
goddess Artemis, which preserved the native Anatolian
character unimpaired through the Greek and Roman periods,
and to which strangers came from great distances.
Our view is that the similar Virgin Artemis of Ephesus,
who in the mystic ritual was set before her worshippers as
the mother, nurse, governor and leader of her swarming
people, the great Queen-Bee, was transformed into the
Ephesian Mother of God; and that the same change was
made independently all over the Anatolian land. She is
shown in Greek and Anatolian ideals on and facing p. 160.
But the question may be asked whether the view advo-
cated in this article is not prejudiced and one-sided. Are
we not advocating too strongly the Anatolian element and
neglecting the possibility of development within the bounds
1 A young French scholar, who collected with much diligence from
inscriptions examples of the custom surviving in the Roman time, advanced
the theory as an explanation that these magistrates were rich women whom
the people wanted to wheedle out of their money; P. Paris Quatenus feminae
in Asia Minore r. p. attigcrint;
Me V zrg‘z'rz Mary at Epéesus 139

of Christianity? The dogmatic side may safely be left to
others. There are plenty of able advocates always ready to
discuss matters of dogma and systematic theology, and the
present writer never has presumed to state an opinion on
such lofty matters. But there are some historical points
which may be briefly noticed in the following § iii.
As I sit writing these lines and looking out over the site
of the Temple of the Ephesian goddess, I have before me
a small terra-cotta image which was found in the excava-
tions now going on amid the ruins of that famous Temple.
This statuette, which is given below, p. 160, represents the
goddess sitting and holding an infant in her arms. This
rather rudely formed expression of popular belief was taken
at the first moment of discovery by some of those who saw
it as a mediaeval image of the Madonna and Child, though
more careful contemplation showed that it must have been
made several centuries before the time of Christ. It is a
complete proof, in its startling resemblance to the later
Christian representation, of the perfect continuity of Ana-
tolian religious sentiment amid outward differences.
There is, therefore, in this popular tendency a real cause,
continuously and effectively operative, in many, doubtless
in all, parts of the Anatolian country. It was strenuously
opposed by a party in the Church. The conflict between
the two opinions lasted for many centuries; but finally the
popular opinion was victorious and established itself as the
“Orthodox” principle, while the more purely Christian
opinion became the “heretical” view and its supporters
were proscribed and persecuted ; and the division seriously
weakened the Christian Empire in its struggle against
Mohammedanism.
The view which this paper is intended to support is that
140 V. T he Worshijt of

the establishment of the cult of the Virgin Mother of God
at Ephesus is a critical, epoch-making date in the develop-
ment of Byzantine government and religion. The whole
process by which it was established is an important page in
the history of the Empire. Ephesus, which had long been
the champion of a purer faith 1 and the touchstone of error,
as both John and Ignatius emphatically declare, ‘was now
made the stronghold of an Anatolian development, a re-
crudescence of the old religion of the Divine Mother.
III. EARLY WORSHIP OF THE MOTHER or Goo IN
EPHESUS2
The Ephesian tradition has all the appearance of being
a popular growth, frowned on at first by the Church, and
never fully and cordially accepted, but only permitted as
a concession to popular feeling. The Orthodox Church
gained the general support of the populace in the fifth
century by tacitly (or even sometimes openly) permitting
the reinvigoration of the old paganism under outwardly
Christianised forms, freed from the most debasing elements
and accretions which were formerly attached to it. The
views of the people about the world and the life of man and
the constitution of society were dominated by certain ideas
and principles, which had been wrought into form by the
experience of many generations and thus had sunk deep
into, and almost constituted the fabric of, their minds. In
the old pagan religion those ideas were envisaged and ex-
1 Letters to the Seven Churches, pp. 239-242.
21 am indebted to my friend and old pupil, Professor A. Souter of Mans-
field College, for much help and all the quotations which are here printed.
The article had to be written far from books during the journey, in the course
of which I visited Ephesus at the beginning of May, 1905.
the Virgin Mary at E ,ohesus 141

pressed to them as gods and guides of their life; and the
Christianised people began to long once more for Divine
figures which might impersonate to them those ideas. The
Divine Mother, the God-Son, were ideas that came close to
the popular nature and lay deep in the popular heart, and
the purely Christian theology and ethics were too remote
and incomprehensible to insufficiently educated minds. The
old paganism, amid much that was ugly and hateful, had
contained in its hieratic forms much of the gradually
elaborated wisdom of the race. The rules of worship and
ritual were the rules of useful practical life and conduct in
the family and society. The ugliest part was due to de-
generation and degradation.1 The earlier steps in this
recrudescence of pagan ideas in the Christian Church of
Asia (a growth which was vainly, and not always wisely,
resisted by the various Iconoclastic2 sects) cannot now be
traced. In the fifth century the traces become clear and
evident: in the fourth century they can be guessed.
The oldest allusion to the worship of the Virgin Mary
at Ephesus as already a popular cult (perhaps the earliest3
in the whole of Anatolia) is contained in the Acts of the
Council or Synod which met at Ephesus in A.D. 431.4 The
sermon, which had been preached by Proclus, Bishop of
1This is a brief, and therefore too dogmatic and harsh, résumé of the
thesis which was gradually worked out in the process of writing the article
on “ Religion of Greece and Asia Minor ” in Hastings’ Dictionary, vol. v.
2 The term “ Iconoclastic ” is used here generically.
3 The allusion in the epitaph of Avircius Marcellus (St. Abercius), c. A.D.
192, shows great respect for her, and places her relation to Jesus among the
most sacred and fundamental articles of the Christian faith, without the
slightest trace of worship; but that stage is already clearly marked in the
letters of Ignatius.
4 Several extracts from the exordium of this sermon have been quoted on
page I34. f. ; for the complete sermon, see Migne, P. G., lxv., p. 680 ff.
142 V. The Worship of

Cyzicus, in 429, is incorporated in the record of the Council ;
and this fact seems to show that the proceedings and the
sermon must be read in the light which each throws on the
other. The sermon was considered to be a fair statement
of the view which the Council regarded as right ; and thus
we must interpret the formal business of the Synod, which
was really a protest by the “Orthodox” party against the
depreciation of the worship of the Virgin Mother of God by
N estorius and his followers. The circumstances in which
the Synod was called are as follows :--
Theodosius II. had summoned Nestorius from Syrian
Antioch to be patriarch of Constantinople; and he brought
with him Anastasius, a presbyter of Antioch. The latter
in a sermon had declared that the title “Mother of God ”
ought not to be applied to Mary, inasmuch as God cannot
be born of woman; Mary was the mother only of the man
Jesus, While the Divine Jesus was the Son of God alone.
Mary, as he said, was only the mother of Christ, not Mother
of God (Christotokos, not Theotokos). The orthodox ma-
jority of the Church rose in horror against this duplication
of the person of Christ, and condemned the authors at the
Council of Ephesus. Along with this condemnation it was
inevitable that the actual worship of the Virgin Mother of
God (as she was henceforward officially called) received new
strength in the popular mind, as if it had been new formally
sanctioned.
The Council assembled at Ephesus “in the most holy
church which is called Maria”. The very existence of a
church bearing such a name is in itself proof that a strong
idea of the divinity of the Virgin Mother of the Saviour
had already fixed itself in the popular mind at Ephesus.
The name applied to the church called “Maria” was
Me V irgire Zl/[ary at Ephesus I43

apparently popular rather than official. The expression
used strongly indicates this;1 and no other origin for the
name seems possible. The church was in A.D. 431 not
“the church of Maria,” or “the church dedicated to
Maria”; it was “ the church called Maria”. Probably the
full expression of the meaning of the Greek would be “ the
most holy church (of God), which bears the name Maria”.
Popular feeling gave the name, and attached its own char-
acter to the worship; but the official or sacerdotal view did
not formally approve this, though it went a long way in
making concession to it, and in practice apparently gave
almost full freedom to it. Where a strong popular feeling
is concerned, the Council which condemned the one great
opponent of that feeling, and formally authorised, as binding
on all Christians, one expression of that feeling (via, the
expression “Mother of God”) must be regarded as tacitly
permitting those other expressions, public at the time, which
it did not condemn. It is of course certain that afterwards
the dedication to the Virgin Mary of this and other churches
was fully accepted by the priesthood and by most of the
Church leaders.
The opinion has been expressed by the present writer in
an article on Ephesus (Hastings’ Dictionary of Me Biele,
vol. i.) that the “church called Maria” was the double church
whose remains must be familiar to all visitors to the ruins,
as they form one of the loftiest and most imposing buildings
on the site. The recent Austrian excavations have con-
firmed this opinion. The eastern church in this connected
pair, which is the later of the two, has been found to be of
the age of Justinian; the older western half was almost
certainly in existence before 431, and was dedicated to
1 iv 'rfi d'yico'roi'rp e’mckno'fq. 'rfi KaAOUfLéZ/p Mapiqi.
144 V. The Worship 0]‘

the Virgin, and Mr. Heberdey, the distinguished director
of the Austrian enterprise, considers it to be the church in
which the Council was held. It remains uncertain as yet
whether the eastern church also was dedicated to her.
It was only during the fourth century that the leaders or
the great writers of the Christian Church seem to have
begun to interest themselves in the story of the life of the
Virgin Mary for her own sake. Epiphanius about A.D. 375
remarks that the Scriptures say nothing about the death of
the Virgin, whether she died or not, whether she was buried
or not, and that in the Scriptures there is no authority for
the opinion that when John went away into (the Province)
Asia, he took her with him.1
But from these words of Epiphanius it seems clear and
certain that popular tradition had already before his time
been busy with her later life. Starting from the one re-
corded fact that' she remained until her death under the
care and keeping of St. John, it had woven into this some-
thing in the way of an account of her death, and the circum-
stances connected with it and with the burial. Doubtless it
had interwoven some marvellous incidents in the story;
and it would be possible to guess how these originated and
were gradually elaborated. But the one thing that concerns
our purpose is that Epiphanius must have known of the
story that the Virgin had gone with St. John to Ephesus;
otherwise he would not have taken the trouble to deny that
it rested on any Scriptural foundation.
1‘Epiph. ado. Haer. III., 1, haer. 78,§ 11 (Migne, P. G., xlii., 71613): ’AA)\&
[Cal 6:’ doicofio'i 'ru/es @(TQNZ’AQCLL, @Ta’qo'wm 'rd l'xzm 'rciir 7pa¢ciw, Kai. ez'i'pwa'w hr oz’f're
Ooiz/a'ror Mapias, 0576 el 'rs'livmcev, 051-6 62 ,uxi) Telex/nicer, 0576 sf 'réea'lr'rat, 0576 sf jun‘7
're’Havr'r-at. Kal'roi ye r05 ’Iwa'.wov 'n'epl 'ri7z/ ’Ao'[ar e’ro'relAa/ae'vou '1'7‘11/ rropefay, Kai
> A I r a l a c A \ < I / I I
oufiauov Ae'yet d'ri e1m'ya'ye'r0 p.66 eav'rov 1171/ a'yiar 1rap621101/ Ira-Jo,
the Virgin Mary at Ephesus I4 5

The popular tradition in Asia is therefore as old at least
as the middle of the fourth century. And, whereas in the
fifth century the Church leaders (as we have already seen)
in the time of the Council of Ephesus, A.D. 431, refrained
from either contradicting or confirming expressly the popular
Ephesian belief, Epiphanius in the fourth century points out
that this and all other stories about her death and burial
were devoid of authoritative foundation. We are in presence
of a popular belief, disclaimed and set aside as valueless in
the fourth century, but treated with more careful respect,
though not confirmed, in the fifth century. The sacerdotal
teaching could not admit the popular belief as authoritative,
but it tacitly permitted the belief to reign in the popular
mind, and to govern popular action and religion, in the same
way as it gradually came to acquiesce, without either affirma-
tion or denial, in most of the popular local cults of saints.
This Ephesian tradition has continued in effective opera-
tion to the present day. When the Roman Catholic dis-
coverers of the “House” of the Virgin began to inquire
into the situation, they found that the Greeks of Kirkindje,
a village among the hills south-east of Ephesus, to which
the remnants of the Christian population are said to have
retired in the middle ages, regarded the place as sacred,
called it Panagia Kapulu,1 “the All Holy (Virgin) of the
Door,” and held certain annual ceremonies there. Since
the Catholics made the discovery, they have bought a large
tract of ground round the ruin; and the Greeks have in
some degree lost their devotion to the spot. An English
lady, however, who speaks Greek as fluently as she does
English, told me that she asked the Greek servant who
guided her to the Panagia Kapulu whether the Orthodox
1 Kapulu is a Turkish word, “ possessed of or connected with a door”.
10
146 V. The Worship of

Christians1 held a Panegyris at this place. He replied that
they had no Panegyris there, but only a Litourgia; and
that in case of trouble or sickness it was customary to take a
priest to the place and perform service and offer prayers there.
The annual ceremony, therefore, seems to have been aban-
doned, though popular belief still clings to the holy place,
and attracts to it those who are in trouble. But the Greek
priests appear not to have held, and certainly now they
utterly disclaim, the belief that the Panagia herself ever was
there; and they maintain that this House is only a ruined
little church dedicated to her.
As to the ruins, the photographs show clearly a small
mediaeval building, with an apse. One would unhesitatingly
set it down as a mediaeval church, for the religious needs of
the population of the secluded glen in which it is situated.
By an unfortunate accident at Ephesus I was prevented
from visiting the Panagia Kapulu after all arrangements had
been made; and, while my son went, I had to rest in the
house for two days. But, as I understand, a friend of
trained and practised experience in archaeological research
considers that part of the building is older than the walls
generally, and might date from as early as the first century.
The glen in which the building is situated is divided
from the city of Ephesus by a high, jagged ridge of moun-
tain, along the crest of which ran the south wall of the
Grecian city, built by Lysimachus about B.C. 280. This
part of the wall is still fairly well preserved : its lofty position
and remoteness from the haunts of men have saved it from
destruction at the hands of medimval or modern builders.
1 In strict Greek expression “ Christians ” are the Orthodox alone ; other
sects are Catholics, Protestants, Armenians, etc., but none of these are in
popular phraseology denominated Christians.
Me Virgin Mary at Ephesus 147

IV. THE VISION or ANNE CATHARINE EMMERICH
Now arises the question how far any value as evidence
can be set on the vision of the German nun, Anne Catharine
Emmerich. In the first place, I should repeat what was
already stated in Section I. of this article, that it seems un-
justifiable to throw doubt on the honest intentions both of
the seer and of the reporter, the poet Brentano. After fully
weighing all the evidence,I do not entertain the smallest
doubt that she saw those visions or dreams, and that they
have been faithfully reported to us. The visions are exactly
what a nun in such surroundings as Anne Catharine’s would
think, and ought to think. But they lie almost wholly within
the narrowest circle of commonplace mediaeval pseudo-
legend, hardly worthy to be called legendary, because it is
all so artificial.
The experience of a foreign friend, whose name (if I were
free to mention it) would be a certificate of wide reading
and literary power, illustrates the probable bent of Anne
Catharine’s mind. His family travelled for some time in the
company of a lady educated in a convent: her conversation
generally showed quite remarkable lack of knowledge or
interest, but in picture-galleries she displayed an equally
remarkable familiarity with lives of the saints, identifying at
a glance every picture relating to them, telling the story
connected with each sacred picture in the fullest detail,
and explaining numerous little points about the symbolism,
which might escape even fairly well-informed observers.
In hurriedly reading over the visions about the life of
the Virgin in a French translation, while I was visiting
Ephesus in the beginning of May, 1905, I have observed
only two points which seem to lie outside of this narrow circle.
148 V. The Worship of

One of these is the date of the birth of Christ. It is not
fixed at Christmas, but on the 24th November. I do not
know how far this divergence may be connected with any
stories or legends likely to be within the ordinary circle of
knowledge of a German nun, of humble origin and without
any special education, at the beginning of the nineteenth
century. But it seems not at all impossible or improbable
that she may have come in contact with educated persons,
or may have learned in other ways so much of the results of
historical investigation as to hear that there is no substantial
foundation for the common ceremonial practice of celebrating
the birth of Christ at the end of December.
The other and by far the most interesting passage in the
whole book is the minutely detailed account of the home of
the Virgin and the small Christian settlement in the neigh-
bourhood of Ephesus. It is worth quotation in full.
“After the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, Mary
lived three years on Sion, three years at Bethany, and nine
years at Ephesus, to which place John had conducted her
shortly after the Jews had exposed Lazarus and his sisters
on the sea.
“Mary did not live exactly at Ephesus, but in the
environs, where were settled already many women who
were her friends. Her dwelling was situated three leagues
and a half from Ephesus, on a mountain which was seen
to the left in coming from Jerusalem, and which rapidly
descended towards Ephesus—coming from the south-east
the city was seen as if altogether at the foot of a mountain,
but it is seen to extend all round as you continue to advance.
Near Ephesus there are grand avenues of trees, under which
the yellow fruits are lying on the ground. A little to the
south, narrow paths lead to an eminence covered with wild
the Virgin Mary at Ephesus 149

plants. There is seen an undulating plain covered with
vegetation, which has a circuit of half a league; it is there
that this settlement was made. It is a solitary country,
with many small, agreeable and fertile elevations, and some
grottoes hollowed in the rock, in the midst of little sandy
places. The country is rough without being barren; there
are here and there a number of trees of pyramidal form
with smooth trunks, whose branches overshadow a large
space.
“When St. John conducted to this spot the Blessed
Virgin, for whom he had already erected a house, some
Christian families and many holy women were already
residing in this country. They were living, some under
tents, others in caves, which they had rendered habitable
by the aid of carpentry and wainscoting. They had come
here before the persecution had burst forth with full force.
As they took advantage of the caves which they found
there, and of the facilities which the nature of the places
offered, their dwellings were real hermitages, often separ-
ated a quarter of a league from each other; and this kind
of colony presented the appearance of a village with its
houses scattered at a considerable distance from each other.
Mary’s house stood by itself, and was constructed of stone.
At some distance behind the house the land rises and pro-
ceeds across the rocks to the highest point of the mountain,
from the top of which, over the small elevations and trees,
the city of Ephesus is visible, [and the sea] with its numerous
islands. The place is nearer the sea than Ephesus itself,
which lies at some distance. The country is solitary and
little frequented. In the neighbourhood was a castle, oc-
cupied, if I mistake not, by a deposed king. St. John
visited him frequently, and converted him. This place
150 V. The Worship of

became, later on, a bishopric. Between this dwelling of the
Blessed Virgin and Ephesus a river flowed, winding in and
out with innumerable turnings.” 1
What value can be set upon this extremely interesting
passage?
It is unnecessary to do more than mention the im-
possibility of the assumption made in the vision that St. John,
going to Ephesus in the sixth year after the Crucifixion,
could have found there already a Christian community.
This is as absurd as the statement (made at a later point in
the book) that before the Virgin’s death, less than fifteen
years after the Crucifixion, Thomas had already evangelised
India and Bactria, Philip Egypt, James Spain, etc. But it
might quite fairly and reasonably be argued by any defender
of the general trustworthiness of the nun’s visions, that, in
regard to numbers and estimates of time and distance, her
evidence stands on a less satisfactory basis than in other
more important respects. Her statements of distance
would be regarded by such a champion as only conjectural
estimates according to the appearance presented in her
vision, and therefore standing, so to say, outside the vision,
as her own opinion about what she saw. The lapse of years
was expressed as part of the visions: she saw the numbers
1 The Death of the Blessed Mary, and Her Assumption into Heaven, con-
taining a Description of Her House at Ephesus, recently discovered. From
the [Meditations of Anne Catharine Emmerich. Translated from the French.
By George Richardson (Dublin : Duffy & Co., 1897), pp. 1-4. When I read
over this extract from the English translation, as it was inserted in the
proof sheets by the care of Mr. Souter,I feel that it gives a different im-
pression from the French translation, which I read at Ephesus. I have not
the opportunity of comparing the two ; but the English (published after the
discovery of the House) strikes me as perhaps more in accordance with the
localities than the French (published before) seemed to be when I was read-
ing it at Ephesus ; but I may be wronging the translator.
Me Virgin Mary a2‘ Ephesus 151

of years presented to her eyes in Roman figures,1 and in
relating what she had seen she stated that she saw a V with
a I beside it which she understood to mean six, via, the
number of years that the Virgin remained in (or near)
Jerusalem after the Crucifixion. Such a defender might
point out that the Virgin is described as being in extreme
old age, and yet the years of her life are stated as sixty-
four; and he might fairly argue that a healthy Jewess of
sixty has not the appearance or feebleness of extreme age,
and that the numbers must therefore be regarded on a
secondary plane, so that St. John’s journey to Ephesus with
her can be placed at a reasonable and possible date, later than
the formation of a Christian Church in Ephesus, and prob-
ably even later than the death of St. Paul, when the Virgin
Mary was a very old woman, over ninety years of age.
That seems a quite fair method of interpretation; but
though it avoids chronological difficulties, it leaves others
untouched. The idyllic picture of the Christians living in
a little community of their own away from the city, apart
from the ways of men, separate from their pagan fellow-
townsmen, is the dream that springs from a mind moulded
by monastic habits and ideas, but is as unlike as can be to
the historic facts. Had Christianity begun by retiring out
of the world, it would never have conquered the world.
Every inquirer into history knows that the Christians of
that first period were involved in the most strenuous and
crowded struggle of life. The nun’s vision is a picture of
1 The editor of the French translation mentions this in a footnote, and
explains the discrepancy between two statements about the time of the
Virgin’s residence at Jerusalem (which is given as four years in one passage,
and six in another) as due to Anne Catharine’s unfamiliarity with Roman
symbols, which caused her to confuse between iv. and vi.
152 V. The Worship of

quiet seclusion and peace. This alone is sufficient to show
that the vision has a purely subjective origin.
Still more evident is the nature of the vision, when we
consider the localities described. The minuteness of detail
with which the description is given stands in remarkable
contrast to the rest of the book. There is a clear concep-
tion of the approach from Jerusalem (through the Mwander
valley and) across the mountains, so as to approach Ephesus
from the south-east. The view of the city, as one comes
near it, is very beautiful; and the description given in the
vision, though rather general in its character, is quite good,
except in three important respects.1
In the first place, at a distance of three leagues and a
half no view of the city can possibly be got; the road at
that point is still entirely secluded among the mountains:
only when one comes within about two or three miles of
the south-eastern gate of Ephesus, the Magnesian Gate, does
the city come into view.
In the second place, there is not at any point on the road,
or near it on the left, this complete view of the city as a
whole. From any such point considerable part of the city
is hidden behind Mount Pion. This complete view can be
obtained only by approaching from the north, as modern
travellers and tourists do in almost every case.
In the third place, a winding river is described as run-
ning between the approaching travellers and the city. This
winding river is the Cayster, now called the Menderez (i.e.,
Meeander). Its course is quite as circuitous and tortuous as
the vision represents it; but it is hardly visible from the
south-eastern road, or from a point on the left hand of that
1The plan of Ephesus in the writer’s Letters to the Seven Churches is
compared with a map of Kapulu Panagia on p. 124.
PLATE 1.

FIG. L—Ephesus, looking from the Top of the Theatre (in ‘West Side of Mount Pion) looking down the Street to the City
Harbour and Hill of St. Paul. On the left is Mount Coressus, behind which lies the Panagia Kapulu
To face [1. 152. (Mr. D. G. Hogarth).
Me Virgin Mary at Ephesus I 5 3

road. It is only as one comes from the north that this river
and its wanderings form so striking a part of the scene; and
further, one must come over the higher ground in order to
get the view perfectly. Moreover, this mmandering river
runs on the north side of the city ; so that only to the traveller
coming from the north does it flow between him and the
city.
In the fourth place there are not at the present day
numerous islands1 visible from the peak above Kapulu
Panagia. Samos shuts out the view of those beyond it.
But in ancient times there were several islets in the gulf of
Ephesus (which is now silted up and converted into solid
land or marsh), so that the ancient state of things was less
unfavourable to the nun’s description than the modern state
is. It is however uncertain whether the islets in the gulf
would be visible from the peak: this point has never been
investigated.
It seemed beyond doubt or question to me, as I sat in
the Ephesian plain and read the description, that the whole
has taken its origin from a description given by some
traveller or tourist of his approach to Ephesus. How this
came to Anne Catharine’s knowledge is uncertain; but
there seems no difficulty in supposing that some traveller
or some reader of a printed description had talked to her
(she is said not to have been a reader); and the narrative
had sunk into her mind and moulded quite unconsciously
the vision that she saw. Only the appearance from a
rising-ground on the north is inaccurately represented as
seen by the traveller coming from the south-east. There
is, thus, a curious mixture of accuracy and inaccuracy. St.
John approaches, as he would in fact do, from the south-
1 The expression in the French translation, I think, is innombrables.
154 V. The Worship of

east; but he sees the view that would be presented to a
traveller coming from the north, if he diverged a little from
the low road to a rising-ground, or if he approached by a
short path across the hills.
Again, it is a detail which at first sight seems very im-
pressive that the travellers approaching from the south-east
diverged a little from the road towards the left and there
found the small Christian community. In such a situation,
some miles off to the left of that road, the so-called “House
of the Virgin” was found by the Catholic explorers. This
House lies among the mountains in a secluded glen, divided
by the high ridge of Mount Coressus from the city; and
beyond doubt no modern traveller had ever penetrated into
those mountains away from the regular paths, until the
Catholic explorers went to seek for the House and found it
beside the spring.
It is also a striking point that there is a peak over the
House, and that this peak is nearer the sea than Ephesus
is, just as the vision has it; but from the peak one sees (as
I am informed by several visitors) only the site of the temple
of Diana outside the city, together with the Magnesian Gate
and the walls on the highest ridge of Coressus, while the
city as a whole is hidden behind Coressus.
In short, the view of the city which is described in the
vision is plainly and certainly the View got from a ledge or
shelf on the hills that bound the valley, where they slope
down towards the city and the plain, and not from a point
shut off from most of the plain by a lofty ridge of mountains.
A continuous slope with an uninterrupted view down over
the city is described in the vision ; and one could almost look
to identify the shelf that is described, were it not that such
a feature can be found in almost any similar sloping hillside.
the Virgin Mary at Ephesus 155

It is needless to touch on the supposed correspondence
between the shape and interior arrangements of the
“House” and those described in the vision. To the nun
it seemed clear that the Virgin must have lived and died
in a building of the nature and shape of a church, having an
apse: she had acquired sufficient knowledge of the form of
the Eastern churches. It is certain that the mind of the
person who saw those visions was fixed steadily on those
subjects; and I cannot but think that she must have often
conversed and asked about Eastern places and things, and
that from the little knowledge she thus acquired, combined
with her training in the mediaeval Western legends of the
saints and the Holy Family, the visions gradually took
their form without conscious effort on her part. But she
had heard two descriptions of Ephesus, one as the city first
appears to the tourist (who always approaches it from the
north, as Smyrna is the harbour from which Ephesus is
easily accessible) beyond a winding river, the other stating
its relation to the road that comes from Jerusalem; and
these two descriptions have unconsciously welded themselves
together in her fancy into a single picture.
V. CONCLUSION
We have thus arrived at the result, first, that the Ephe-
sian belief as to the residence of the Virgin Mary in their
city, though existing at least as early as the fourth century,
rests on no recorded authority, but was a purely popular
growth, and is therefore possessed of no more credibility
than belongs to the numberless popular legends, which every-
where grow up in similar circumstances; and, secondly, that
the nun’s vision, interesting as it is, furnishes no real evidence.
156 V. The Worship of
The Roman Catholic writer1 of a book already quoted,
Panaghia-Capouli, p. 90, while fully admitting that the
entire body of Greek clerical opinion has been against that
Ephesian tradition, argues that a tradition which persists
in the popular mind through the centuries, in spite of the
contrary teaching of the clergy, is likely to rest on a real
foundation.
We can only repeat what has been shown in detail in
Section II., that numberless examples can be quoted of the
growth of such popular beliefs without any historical founda-
tion. They spring from the nature of the human mind ; and
they prove only the vitality of the old religious ideas. Take
an example which came to my knowledge after the former
part of this paper was printed. Three or four miles south
of Pisidian Antioch we found in a village cemetery an altar
dedicated to the god Hermes. On the top of the altar
there is a shallow circular depression, which must prob-
ably have been intended to hold liquid offerings poured
on the altar, and which was evidently made when the altar
was constructed and dedicated. A native of the village,
who was standing by as we copied the inscription, told us
that the stone was possessed of power, and that if any one
who was sick came to it and drank of the water that
gathered in the cup, he was cured forthwith of his sickness.
This belief has lasted through the centuries; it has with-
stood the teaching and denunciation of Christians and Mo-
hammedans alike; but it is not therefore possessed of any
real foundation. It springs from the superstitious nature of
1Though it has no bearing on the question of credibility, it is right to
guard against the impression that general Roman Catholic opinion is in
favour of the Ephesian tradition. The ruling opinion in Roman Catholic
circles is against it; but as a rule the Catholics of the Smyrna district
favour it.
Me Virgin Mary at Ephesus I 57

the popular mind, and the stubborn persistence of the old
beliefs. You may in outward appearance convert a people
to a new and higher faith; but if they are not educated up
to the level of intellectual and moral power which that
higher faith requires, the old ideas will persist in the popular
mind, all the stronger in proportion to the ignorance of
each individual; and those ideas will seize on and move the
people especially in cases of trouble and sickness and the
presence or dread of death.
Such is the nature of the Ephesian tradition. The
Virgin Mother in Ephesus had been worshipped from time
immemorial ; and the people could not permanently give her
up. They required a substitute for her, and the Christian
Mother of God took her place, and dwelt beside her in the
hearts of the people. This belief soon created a locality for
itself, for the Anatolian religion always found a local home.
The home was marked out at Ortygia in the mountains on
the south of the Ephesian valley, where the pagan Virgin
Artemis was born, and where probably her original home
had been, until she as the great Queen-bee led her mourning
people to their new home in the valley by the shore of the
seal and became the “goddess and mother and queen” of
Ephesus. The Christian worship of the Virgin Mother
seems to have originated at so early a period that it could
not establish itself directly on the home of the older Virgin
Artemis. It could only seek a neighbouring home in the
same hilly country a little farther eastwards. When this
home was found for the new belief, a sacred legend inevit-
1 Letters to the Seven Churches, p. 217. On the map there Ortygia, which
lies really outside of the limits of the map, is indicated wrongly. It was
necessary to put in the name, but the actual locality is a little south-east
of the place where the name stands.
158 V, The Worship of

ably grew up around it according to the usual process in the
popular religion of antiquity. The legend had to be adapted
to the Christian history. It could not imitate exactly the
pagan legend that the Virgin was born at Ortygia; but the
belief that the Mother of God had lived in old age and died
there, grew up and could readily be adapted to the record.
It will always remain a question, as to which opinions
will differ widely, how far it is right or permissible to make
concessions to so deep-seated a feeling as that belief must
have been. On the one hand, a concession which takes the
form of an unhistorical legend and a ceremonial attached
to a false locality will meet with general disapproval. On
the other hand, it seems certain that injudicious proselytising
combined with wholesale condemnation and uprooting of
popular beliefs has often done much harm in the history
of Christianity. The growing experience and wisdom of
primitive races wrought out certain rules of life, of sanita-
tion, purity, consideration for the community, and many
other steps in civilisation ; and these rules were placed under
the Divine guardianship, because there was no other way of
enforcing them on all. Practical household wisdom was
expressed in the form of a system of household religious
rites. It is true that these rules were often widened by
false analogy, and applied in ways that were needless and
useless; but there remained in them the residuum of wisdom
and usefulness.1 It has often been an unwise and almost
fatal error of Christian missionaries (an error recognised and
regretted by many of them in recent time) to treat all these
rules as superstitious and try to eradicate them before any
1 See “ Religion of Greece and Asia Minor ” in Dr. Hastings’ Dictionary
of the Bible, v., 133 and passim. The process of degradation constantly came
in to make these rules deteriorate, as is shown in that article.
the Virgin Mary at Ephesus 159

system of habitual good conduct in society and ordinary life
had been settled and rooted in the minds of proselytes.
That the belief in the Mother, and especially the Virgin
Mother, as the teacher, guide and nourisher of her people,
was capable of infinite expansion as a purifying and elevating
principle, has been shown in Section I. That it has been of
immense influence on Asia Minor is patent in the history of
the country; even Turkish Conquest, though it attained its
purposes by general massacre, especially of the male popula-
tion, has not wholly eradicated it. That it is a principle
which belongs to a settled and peaceful age and state of
society, and that it must be weakened in a state of war and
disorder, is evident in itself, and has been shown in detail
elsewhere.1
The vision of the nun in Westphalia and the rediscovery
of the House of the Virgin form simply an episode in the
history of that religious principle and a proof of its vitality.
1 See the article quoted in the preceding footnote.

The Hellenic Virgin Goddess of Ephesus and the Anatolian Mother of
Ephesus, the Queen—Bee.

L .’ , ‘I a
if. 3'4, 1) I. ' ‘ ./ .
éj; /'r .-'
i ,t/i ,'
fan: I, _ _ H. :y
it c n

The Anatolian Mother of Ephesus, half anthropomorphized.
PLATE II.

'—---¢-— ‘a’... ---—--.g-- ‘--l‘~
FIG. 2.—The Mother-Goddess of Ephesus Anthropomorphized
(Mr. A. E. Henderson).
T0 face 1). 160. 5“? f’~ I59-
VI
THE PERMANENCE OF RELIGION AT
HOLY PLACES IN WESTERN ASIA
II

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Tomb of a Christian Virgin of the Third Century (see p. 298).

VI
THE PERMANENCE OF RELIGION AT HOLY
PLACES IN WESTERN ASIA
IN the preceding article in this volume, describing the origin
of the Ephesian cult of the Mother of God, the permanent
attachment of religious awe to special localities was briefly
mentioned. In that cult we found a survival or revival of the
old paganism of Ephesus, via, the worship of the Virgin
Mother of Artemis. The persistence of those ancient be-
liefs and rites at the chief centres of paganism exercised so pro-
found an influence on the history of Christianity in Asia
Minor, that it is well to give a more detailed account of the
facts, though even this account can only be a brief survey of
a few examples selected almost by chance out of the in-
numerable cases which occur in all parts of the country. I
shall take as the foundation of this article a paper read to the
Oriental Congress held at London in autumn, 1902, and
buried in the Transactions of the Congress, developing and
improving the ideas expressed in that paper, and enlarging
the number of examples.
The strength of the old pagan beliefs did not escape the
attention of the Apostle Paul ; and his views on the subject
affected his action as a missionary in the cities of Asia
Minor, and can be traced in his letters. On the one hand,
as the present writer has several times tried to prove, he re-
garded the Anatolian superstition as a more direct and
(163)
164 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

dangerous enemy than the Greek. Amid the many enemies
against which he had to contend, some were less dangerous
than others. Sophia, the Greek philosophy, seemed to Paul
much less dangerous than Greek religion; it was rather, in
a way, a rival erring on false lines than an enemy; and at
first the outer world regarded the doctrine of Paul as simply
one form of Graeco-Oriental philosophy, and listened to it
with a certain degree of tolerance on that understanding.
Greek religion, in its turn, hateful as was its careless poly-
theism, was not nearly so dangerous as the Phrygian de-
votion and enthusiasm.
On the other hand, Paul saw also that there was, or
rather had originally been, an element of truth and real
perception of the Divine nature. The view which he enter-
tained, and states clearly in his letter to the Romans, is that
there existed originally in the world a certain degree of
knowledge about God and His character and His relation
to mankind; but the deliberate action of man had vitiated
this fair beginning; and the reason lay in idolatry. This
cause obscures the first good ideas as to the nature of God ;
and thus the Divine Being is assimilated to and represented
by images in the shape of man who is mortal, and birds and
quadrupeds and reptiles. In idolatrous worship a necessary
and invariable accompaniment was immorality, which goes
on increasing from bad to worse in physical passions, and
thus corrupts the whole nature and character of man
(Rom. i. 19 ff).
But men are never so utterly corrupt that a return to
truth is impossible. If they only wish it, they can choose
the good and refuse the evil (Rom. ii. I4 f.). The Gentiles
have not the Law revealed to the Jews, but some of them
through their better nature act naturally according to the
Holy Places in Western A sia I 6 5

Law, and are a Law unto themselves: the practical effect
of the Law is seen in their life, because it has been by nature
written in their hearts and they have a natural sense of the
distinction between right and wrong, between good and evil ;
and their conscience works in harmony with this natural Law
in their hearts, prompting them to choose the right action
and making them conscious of wrong if they choose wrong
action. This beginning of right never fails utterly in human
nature, but it is made faint and obscure by wrong-doing,
when men deliberately choose the evil and will not listen to
the voice of God in their hearts.
Yet even at the worst there remains in the most cor-
rupted man a sense that out of this evil good will come.
We all are in some degree aware that evil is wrong, because
it is painful, and the pain is the preparation for the birth of
better things (Rom. viii. 19-22). The eager watching ex—
pectancy of the universe [man and nature alike, as of a
runner with his eye fixed on the goal], waits for the reveal-
ing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to
vanity, not of its own will, but by reason of man who sub-
jected it, and in this subjection there arises a hope that the
creation itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of
corruption, so as to attain unto the liberty of the glory of
the children of God. For we know that the whole creation
in all its parts is groaning in the birth-pangs from which
shall emerge a better condition, and we also who are Chris-
tians and have already within ourselves the first practical
effects of the Spirit’s action, are still in the pain and hope of
the nascent redemption.
This remarkable philosophic theory of Paul’s bursts the
bonds of the narrower Judaism. It is not inconsistent with
the best side of Hebrew thought and prophecy; but it was
166 V[. The Permanence of Religion at

utterly and absolutely inconsistent with the practical facts of
the narrower Judaism in his time. The man who thought
thus could not remain in permanent harmony with the party
in Jerusalem which was inexorably opposed to the early
followers of Christ. It was only in maturer years that Paul
became fully and clearly conscious of this truth; but as he
became able to express it clearly to himself and to others,
he also became conscious that it had been implicit from the
beginning in his early thought. He had it in his nature from
birth. It was fostered and kept alive by the circumstances of
his childhood. He had come in contact with pagans, and
knew that they were not monsters as they seemed to the
Palestinian zealots), but human beings. He had been in
such relations with them, that he felt it a duty to go and tell
them of the truth which had been revealed (Rom. i. 14).
He had learned by experience of the promptings to good, of
the preference for the right, of self-blame for wrong-doing,
which were clearly manifest in their nature. Doubtless, he
had also been aware of that deep and eager longing for the
coming of something better, of a new era, of a Saviour, of
God incarnate in human form on the earth, which was so
remarkable a feature in Roman life before and after his
birth.1
Before glancing at the effect of the old paganism on the
development of the Christian Church, it is well to point out
that the influence is still effective down to the present day.
The spirit of Mohammedanism is quite as inconsistent with
and hostile to the pagan localisation of the Divine nature
at particular places as Christianity is; but still it has been
in practice very strongly influenced by that idea, and the
ignorant Moslem peasantry are full Of awe and respect
1 Virgil, Eclogue 4.
HoZy Places in Wesz‘ern Asia 167

both for Christian and for ancient pagan superstitions. A
brief outline of the most striking classes of facts observable
at the present day will set in a clearer light the strong
pressure which popular ideas were continually exerting on
the early Christian Church. In giving such an outline
I know that it is dangerous for one who is not an Orientalist
to write on the subject. I can merely set down what I
have seen and heard among the peasantry, and describe the
impression made on me by their own statement of their
vague ideas.
In regard to their religious ideas, we begin by setting
aside all that belongs strictly to Mohammedanism, all that
necessarily arises from the fact that a number of Moham-
medans, who live together in a particular town or village,
are bound to carry out in common the ritual of their religion,
i.e., to erect a proper building, and to perform certain acts
and prayers at regular intervals. Anything that can be
sufficiently accounted for on that ground has no bearing on
the present purpose. All that is beyond this is, strictly
speaking, a deviation from, and even a violation of, the
Mohammedan religion; and therein lies its interest for us.
Mohammedanism admits only a very few sacred localities
——Mecca, Medina, Jerusalem. Possibly even the Sunni
Mohammedans may allow one or two others, as the Shiya
do, but I do not remember to have heard of them. But the
actual belief of the peasantry of Asia Minor attaches sanctity
to a vast number of localities, and to these our attention is
now directed. Without laying down any universal prin-
ciple, it will appear easily that in many cases the attachment
of religious veneration to particular localities in Asia Minor
has continued through all changes in the dominant religion
of the country.
168 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

In the cases where this permanence of religious awe is
certain, the sanctity has, of course, taken at the present day
some new form, or been transferred from its original bearer
to some Mohammedan or Turkish personage. Four kinds
of cases may be distinguished.
I. The sanctity and awe gather round the person of some
real character of Mohammedan history earlier than the
Turkish period. The typical example is Seidi Ghazi (the
Arab general Abd-Allah al Sayyid al Battal al Ghazi, the
Lord the Wicked the Conqueror 1), who was slain in the
battle of Acroenos in A.D. 7 39, the first great victory which
cheered the Byzantine Emperors in their attempt to stem
the tide of Arab conquest. How this defeated Arab should
have become the Turkish hero of the conquest of Asia
Minor, after the country had for two centuries been untrod
by a Mohammedan foot, is not explained satisfactorily by
any of the modern writers, French and German, who have
translated or described the Turkish romance relating the
adventures of this stolen hero.2
Seid became one of the chief heroes of the Bektash
l I give the spelling and translation as a distinguished Semitic scholar
gave them to me many years ago; but my friend Mr. Crowfoot writes to me
from Khartoum suggesting that the first epithet is not the word meaning
“wicked,” but a very similar cognate word which means “ hero ”. Seid, of
course, is strictly a generic word, but it has in Turkey become a personal
name. I find in my notes that Robertson Smith wrote to me, “ Battal in old
Arabic denotes rather prowess than wickedness”.
2See Hermann Ethe', Fahrten des Sayyid Batthal, Leipzig, Brockhaus,
1871, and the review of this translation by Mohl, in Yonrnal Asiatiquc, 1874,
p. 70 ff. In the Turkish romance it is said that no worship was paid to Seidi
Ghazi till the reign of Sultan Ala~ed~din of Konia (1219-1236), when the place
where he died was discovered by special revelation, and a tomb was built for
him at the ancient city Nakoleia (which from that time has borne his name),
far north of the fatal battle, and a great establishment of dervishes formed.
The dervishes were scattered and the building going to decay when I was
there in 1881 and 1883.
Holy Places in Western Hsia 169

dervishes, that sect to which all the Janissaries belonged
from the time when their beginning was blessed by Hadji
Bektash near Amasia.1 On Mount Argaeus strange stories
about him are told. He shares with others the awe attach-
ing to this mountain, the loftiest in Asia Minor, and wor-
shipped as divine by the ancient inhabitants. On the site
of an old Hittite city, Ardistama, rediscovered in 1904 on
the borders of Cappadocia and Lycaonia, he is known as
Emir Ghazi, the Conqueror Emir. At N akoleia, in Phrygia,
once one of the greatest establishments of dervishes in Asia
Minor, now passing rapidly into ruins, his tomb is shown,
and that of the Christian princess, his supposed wife.
The mention of the Christian wife of the Moslem con-
queror throws some light on the legend. The idea was
not lost from the historical memory of the Mohammedans
that they were interlopers, and that the legal right be-
longed to the Christians whom they had conquered. The
representative hero of the Moslems must therefore make his
possession legitimate by marrying the Princess, who carries
with her the right of inheritance. This is a striking example
of the persistence of the old Anatolian custom that inherit-
ance passed in the female line. Greek law had superseded
the old custom; Roman law had confirmed the principle
that inheritance passed in the male line; Christian and
Mohammedan custom agreed in that principle. Yet here
in the Moslem legend we find the old custom of the land
still effective. In Greek legend and Greek history the same
tendency for the conquerors to seek some justification and
legitimisation of their violent seizure is frequently observed;
so, e.g., the Dorian conquest of the Peloponnesus is repre-
sented in legend as the Return of the Heracleidae : the foreign
1 See below under 2.
170 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

conquerors represent themselves as the supporters and
champions of rightful heirs who had been dispossessed and
expelled. In many of the old cities of the land (probably
in all of them, if we only knew the Moslems better) there
linger stories, beliefs and customs, showing that the Mo-
hammedans recognise a certain priority and superiority of
right as belonging to the Christian. In the Mosque of St.
Sophia at Constantinople the closed door is pointed out
through which the priest retired carrying the sacred ele—
ments when the capture of the city interrupted the celebra-
tion of the sacrament; and every one acknowledges that,
when the door is opened again, the priest will come back to
continue the interrupted ritual of the Christians. In front
of the walls of Constantinople is the sacred spring with the
fish which shall never be caught until the Christians recover
the city: they were taken from the gridiron and thrown
into the spring by the priest who was cooking them when
the city was stormed, and there they swim until the Chris-
tians return. At Damascus, Jerusalem, Thyatira, etc.,
similar tales are told. At Iconium, on the summit of the
hill above the Palace, is a transformed church, once dedi-
cated (as the Greeks say) to St. Amphilochus, Bishop of
Iconium about 372-400. It was made into a mosque, but
every Mohammedan who entered it to pray died (the tale
does not specify whether they died at the moment or later),
and it ceased to be used as a mosque. Thereafter a wooden
clock-tower was built upon it, and the building is at the
present day called “the Clock ”. Inside this is said to be
the spring of Plato, which is now dry. In this absurd story
we trace the degraded remnants of ancient sanctity; and
there is a mixture of old religious belief in a holy spring,
and perhaps an Asylum, with the later Mohammedan idea
Hely Plaees in Wesz‘ern Asia 171

that intrusion into a Christian shrine always was accom-
panied by a certain risk.
2. Some personage of Turkish history proper becomes
the bearer of the religious awe attaching to certain spots,
e.g., Hadji Bektash, who, I am told, led the Janissaries at
the capture of Mudania, and from whom the chief seat of
the Bektash dervishes derives its name. At this place, now
called Mudjur, in Cappadocia, Had ji Bektash has succeeded
to the dignity and awe which once belonged to the patron
saint of the bishopric of Doara.
Another such character is K
_araja Ahmed, who has his
religious home in several parts of the country, sometimes,
at least, with tales of miraculous cures attaching to his grave.1
I assume him to be a historical character, as he is found
in several places, but I do not know whether any actual
record survives. Many other names might be quoted, which
I assume to have belonged of old to real persons, often
probably tribal ancestors unknown to fame: e.g., Sinan
Pasha and Hadji Omar or Omar Baba: the latter two
names I suppose to belong to one personage, though they
are used at different places. Sinan Pasha was the name of
several persons distinguished in Ottoman history, the eldest
being a Persian mollah, scholar and mystic, under the early
Ottoman chiefs in the fourteenth century.
3. The a’ea’e or nameless heroised ancestor is spoken of
at various places. In many cases his name has been entirely
lost, but in other cases inquiry elicits the fact that the a’ea’e
1 I have observed the veneration of Karaja Ahmed at a village six hours
S.S.W. from Ushak and about three hours N.W. from Geubek; also at a
village one hour from Liyen and two from Bey Keui (one of several spots
which divide the religious inheritance of the ancient Metropolis). At the
latter, sick persons sit in the Turbe all night with their feet in a sort of
stocks, and thus are cured. The villages bear Ahmcd’s name.
172 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

belongs to Class 2, and that some of the villagers know
his name, though the world in general is acquainted with
him only as the nameless dede, father of the tribe or settle-
ment.
4. The word dede is also used in a still less anthropomor-
phic sense to indicate the mere formless presence of Divine
power on the spot. Many cases hang doubtfully between
this class and the preceding: it is not certain whether the
dede once had a name and a human reality which has after-
wards been lost, or whether from the beginning he was
merely the rude expression of the vague idea that Divine
power dwelt on the spot.
As an example the following may be selected. In the
corner beneath the vast wall of Taurus, where Lycaonia
and Cappadocia meet, at the head of a narrow and pictur-
esque glen, there flows forth from many outlets in the main
mass of Taurus a river-for a river full grown it issues
from the rock. Rushing down the steep glen, it meets at
its foot a quieter stream flowing from the east through a
rich soil, and long after the junction the clear water from the
glen refuses to mix with the muddy water from the rich soil
of the valley. The stream flows on for a few miles to the
west, turning this corner of the dry Lycaonian plain into a
great orchard, and there it falls into the Ak Gol (White
Lake). The lake is one of those which vary greatly in
extent in different years. In 18791 it reached close up to
the rock-wall of Taurus, and flowed with a steady stream
into a great hole in the side of the mountain. In 1882 and
in 1890 it did not reach within a mile of the mountain side.
1 This I learned from the late Sir Charles Wilson. Recently the scene
has been carefully described by an Austrian traveller, Dr. Schaffer, in Ergcin-
zunsheft No. 141 to Petermann’s Geogr. M ittheilungen.
PLATE IV.

i2.
Fro. 9.--The Peasant-God at lbr
Tofacep. 172.
Holy Places in Weslern Asia 173

This remarkable river has always been recognised by the
inhabitants of the glen as the special gift of God, and about
B.C. 800 they carved on a rock near the source one of the
most remarkable, and even beautiful, monuments of ancient
days, figuring the god presenting his gifts of corn and wine
-whose cultivation the river makes possible—to the king of
the country. The king is dressed in gorgeous embroidered
robes, the god is represented in the dress of a peasant; he
is the husbandman who, by patience and toil, subdues
Nature for the benefit of man. This old conception evinces
imagination, insight, poetic sympathy with Nature, and
artistic power to embody its ideas in forms that appeal
directly to the spectator’s eye.
The modern peasantry recognise as fully as the ancients
that the Divine power is manifested here; they express
their belief differently. The tree nearest the spring is hung
with patches of rag, fastened to it by modern devotees. In
the contrast between the ancient sculpture and the modern
tree you have, in miniature, the difference between Asia
Minor as it was 2,700 years ago, and Asia Minor as it is
under the Turk. The peasants’ language is as poor as their
ritual. If you ask them why they hang their rags on the
tree, the one explanation is “a’ea’e var” (there is a a’ea’e).
There can be little doubt that the idea of the sacred tree
here is older than the sculpture. A sacred tree hung with
little offerings of the peasantry was no doubt there before
the sculpture was made, and has in all probability never
been wanting in the religious equipment of the place. It
has survived the sculpture, which has now no nearer relation
to the life and thoughts of the people than the gods in the
British Museum have to us, while the tree is probably a
more awful object to the peasants than the village mosque.
174 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

The extreme simplicity of the peasants’ way of express-
ing their religious idea is interesting; it is so contrasted
with the manifold mythopoetic power of the Greek or Celtic
races. It throws some light on their religious attitude to
observe that in their topographical nomenclature there is
the same dearth of imaginative interpretation of Nature.
The nearest stream is commonly known as Irmak, the
river, Su, the water, Tchai, the watercourse; half the popu-
lation of a village know no other name for it, while the
other half, more educated, know that it is distinguished from
other streams as Kizil Irmak (red river), or Ak Su (white
water), or Gediz Tchai (the stream that flows by the town
of Gediz). The mountain beside the village is commonly
termed simply “ dagh”; if you ask more particularly, you
learn that it is the “dag/z” of such and such a village; if
you ask more particularly still, you find that some one
knows that it is Ala Dagh (the Spotted Mount), or Ak
Dagh, or Kara Dagh (White or Black Mount). Very rarely
does one find such a name as Ai Doghmush, the Moon
Rising; a name that admirably paints the distant view of
a beautiful peak near Apamea-Celaenae, as it appears rising
over some intervening ridge. The contrast between a name
like this and the common Turkish names might suggest
that it is a translation of an old pre-Turkish name; and the
same thought suggests itself in the case of Hadji-Baba,
“Pilgrim Father,” a lofty and beautiful peak that overhangs
the old city of Derbe (see Art. XL).
Wherever the sacred building is connected with or
directed by a regular body of dervishes, it is called a te/ee ;
where it is little more than a mausoleum, it is called a tarhe.
The most characteristic form of the tarhe is a small round
building with a sloping roof rising to a point in the centre
Holy Places in Western Asia 1 7 5

and surmounted by the crescent; but it also occurs of
various forms, degenerating into the meanest type of build-
ing. Often, however, there is no sacred building. The
Divine power resides in a tree or in a grove (as at Satala, in
Lydia, the modern Sandal), or in a rock, or in a hill. I
cannot quote a specific case of a holy rock, though I have
seen several ; but of several holy hills the most remarkable
occurs about two hours south-east from Kara Bunar, which
probably is the modern representative of the ancient Hyde
the Holy, Hiera Hyde. Here, within a deep circular de-
pression, cup-shaped and about a quarter of a mile in
diameter, there rises a pointed conical hill to the height of
several hundred feet, having a well-marked crater in its
summit. A small lake nearly surrounds the base of the
hill. The ground all around is a mere mass of black
cinders, without a blade of vegetation. I asked a native
what this hill was called; he replied, “Mekke; Tuz-Mek-
kesi daiorlar ” (Mecca; they call it the Salt-Mecca). Mecca
is the only name by which the uneducated natives can
signify the sacredness of a place.
In connection with the maintenance of tehes and turhes,
we find an interesting case where the method of Roman
law has survived through Byzantine times into Turkish
usage. These religious institutions have been kept up by
a rent charged on estates: the estates descended in private
possession, according to the ordinary rules of inheritance,
charged with the rent (Va/euf). The system is precisely
the same as that whereby Pliny the younger provided a
public school in his own city Novum Comum (Ep. vii.,
18); he made over some of his property to the munici-
pality, and took it back from them in permanent possession
at a fixed rent (so far under its actual value as to provide
176 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

for contingencies); and the possession remained with his
heirs, and could be sold.1
Much difficulty has been caused in Turkey owing to the
rents having become insufficient to maintain the religious
establishments. Many of the establishments, as, e.g., that
of Seidi Ghazi at Nakoleia (now called Seidi Ghazi, after
the hero), are rapidly going to ruin. The Government has
made great efforts to cope with the difficulties of the case;
but its efforts have only been partially successful ; and many
of the old establishments have fallen into ruins. It is only
fair to remember and to estimate rightly the magnitude and
difficulty of the task which the Government had to under-
take, but the fact remains that the Evkaf Department is
popularly believed to be very corrupt, and its administration
has been far from good. It must, however, be acknowledged
that in the last few years the traveller observes (at least in
those districts where I have been wandering) a very marked
improvement in this respect.
There appear to be cases in which the actual rites and
forms, or at least the accompaniments, of a pre-Moham-
medan, or even pre-Christian, worship are preserved and
respected by Mohammedans. A few examples out of many
may be given here in addition to those which have been
mentioned in the preceding article, § 2.
I. The Ayasma (any holy spring to which the Christians
resort) is also respected by the Mohammedans, who have
sometimes a holy tree in the neighbourhood. In general a
Christian place of pilgrimage is much respected by the
1 This custom is the same as that which, according to Professor Momm-
sen, is called avitum in an inscription ofFerentinum (C. I. L., x., No. 5853) and
in one of the receipts found in the house of Caecilius Jucundus at Pompeii,
and which is termed avitum et patritum in another of Cmcilius Jucundus’s
receipts (Hermes, xii., p. 123).
l’ LAT ['1 V.

FIG. ILL—The Bridge over the Pyramos at Missis (Mrs. Christie of Tarsus).
\S.('“ r‘.
PLATE \"1.

FIG. IL—Tlle Bridge over the Saros at Adana (Mrs. Christie of Tarsus).
To ftlt't" 176. See 274.
Holy Places in Western Asia 177

Turkish peasantry. At Hassa Keui, the old Sasima, in
Cappadocia, the feast of St. Makrina on 25th January
attracts not merely Christians from Konia, Adana, Caesarea,
etc., but even Turks, who bring their sick animals to be
cured.1 Many great old Christian festivals are regarded
with almost equal awe by the peasant Turks and by the
Christians, as we saw above.
2. Iflatun Bunar ; springs with strange virtues and hav-
ing legends and religious awe attached to them, are in some
cases called by the name of the Greek philosopher Plato,
which seems to imply some current belief in a magician
Plato (like the mediaeval Virgil). One of these springs of
Plato is in the acropolis of Iconium : the history of Iconium
is not well enough known to enable us to assert that the
spring was holy in former times, however probable this may
be. Another is situated about fifty miles west of Iconium,
and from the margin of the water rise the walls of a half-
ruined little temple, built of very large stones and adorned
with sculptures of a religious character, showing the sanc-
tity that has attached to the spring from time immemorial.
The sculptures belong to the primitive Anatolian period,
generally called Hittite.
We may note in passing that Plato’s Springs belong to
the neighbourhood of Iconium, the capital of the Seljuk
kingdom of Roum, where a high standard of art and civili-
sation was maintained until the rise of the Ottoman Turks.
The name of Plato probably was attached to the springs in
the Seljuk period, when Greek philosophy was studied and
perhaps Plato was popularly known as a wise man or
magician (just as Virgil was the great magician of European
medimval superstition and literature).
1 Carnoy et Nicolaides, Traditions populaires de l’Asie M ineure, p. 204.
12
178 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

3. The Takhtaji, woodcutters and charcoal-burners, are
not pure Mohammedans. Their strange customs have
suggested to several independent observers the idea that
they are aboriginal Anatolians, who retain traces of a reli-
gion older even than Christianity.1 Nothing certain is
known about their rites and the localities of their worship,
except that cemeteries are their meeting-place and are by
the credulous Turks believed to be the scene of hideous
orgies.
The Takhtaji must be classed along with several other
isolated peoples of the country, who retain old pre-Christian
rites. They are all very obscure, poor and despised; and
it is extremely difficult to get any information about them.
A friend who has been on friendly terms with some of them
from infancy told me that, however intimate he might be
with some of them, it was impossible to get them to talk
about their religious beliefs or rites. Two things, however,
he had learned—one of which is, I think, unrecorded by
other inquirers.2 In the first place, there is a head or chief-
priest of their religion, who resides somewhere in the Adana
district, but makes visits occasionally to the outlying settle-
ments—even as far as the neighbourhood of Smyrna (where
my informant lives). This high-priest enters any house and
takes up his abode in it as he pleases, while the owner con-
cedes to him during his stay all rights over property, children
and wives. This priest is evidently the old priest-king of
1See Humann and Puchstein, Reisen in Kleinasien and Nordsyrien.
Mr. Hyde Clarke has long had this idea, which is, he says, fully proved by
what he has seen and heard among the people. On their ethnological
character see Von Luschan in Benndorf-Niemann, Lykia, vol. ii. My
ideas have been gained originally from Sir C. Wilson.
2E.g., Von Luschan in Lykia (Benndorf-Niemann, etc.), ii., p. 186;
Crowfoot, Foam. Anthr. Inst., 1900, Man, 1901.
Holy Places in Western Asia 179

the primitive Anatolian religion, who exercises in a vulgar-
ised form the absolute authority of the god over all his
people. In the second place, my informant corroborated
the usual statement about them, that their holy place—
where they meet to celebrate the ritual of their cult—is the
cemetery. He had not been able to learn anything about
the rites practised there. This again is a part of the primi-
tive religion of the land. It is a probable theory 1 that the
early custom was “to bury the dead, not along the roads
leading out from the city (as in Greece, and beside the
great Hcllenised cities of Anatolia‘), but in cemeteries beside
or around the central H ieron ”. “ It may be doubted whether
in old Phrygian custom there was any sacred place without
a grave. Every place which was put under Divine protec—
tion for the benefit of society was (as I believe) consecrated
by a grave.” “The dead was merged in the deity, and
the gravestone was in itself a dedication to the god.” In
death the people of the Great Goddess returned to her,
their mother and the mother of all life, and lay close to her
holy place and home. “The old custom remains strong
throughout Christian and Moslem time.” The grave of a
martyr, real or supposed, gave Christian consecration to
some of the old holy places. “Wherever a Moslem Turbe
is built to express in Mohammedan form the religious awe
with which the Moslem population still regards all the old
holy places, there is always in or under it the grave of some
old supposed Moslem hero, and a Moslem legend grows up,
and Divine power is manifested there with miraculous cures.”
4. The music and dancing of the Mevlevi dervishes have
much of the character of the old ritual of Cybele, toned
1The following sentences are quoted from my Studies in the Eastern
Roman Provinces (Hodder & Stoughton, 1906), p. 273.
180 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

down and regulated by the calmer spirit of the Moham-
medan religion and the Turkish character.
5. In the Hermus Valley, in the neighbourhood of Sardis,
are several villages, in which dwell a strange people, who
practise a mixed sort of religion.1 In outward appearance
they are Mohammedans. But the women do not veil their
faces in the presence of men, and the two sexes associate
freely together. This freedom is, of course, usual among
many Anatolian tribes of a nomadic character, Turkmen,
Avshahr, Yuruk, etc., and is the perpetuation of primitive
Turkish custom before the Turks came in contact with
Semitic people and adopted the religion of Islam. But in
the villages of the Hermus Valley the freedom probably has
a different origin, as the other characteristics of the people
show. While the men bear only Mohammedan names,
the women are said often to have such Christian names as
Sophia, Anna, Miriam, etc. They do not observe the
Moslem feast of Ramazan, but celebrate a fast of twelve
days in spring. They drink wine, which is absolutely for-
bidden by the law of Mohammed; yet we were told that
drunkenness is unknown among them and that they are
singularly free from vice. They practise strict monogamy,
and divorce is absolutely forbidden among them, which
stands in the strongest contrast with the almost perfect
freedom and ease of divorce among the Mohammedans.
In the usual Turkish villages there is always a mosque of
some sort, even if it be only a tumble-down mud hovel,
between which and the ordinary houses of the villagers the
difference is hardly perceptible to the eye of the casual
1 The following sentences are quoted nearly verbatim from an account
published by Mrs. Ramsay in the British Monthly, March, 1902, shortly after
we had visited the place.
Holy Places in Western A sia 1 8 1

traveller ; but in those villages of the Hermus Valley there
is no mosque of any description. There is, however, a kind
of religious official, called popularly “Kara-Bash,” one who
wears a black head-dress, who visits the people of the
different villages at intervals, when they assemble in one
of the houses. How these assemblies are conducted, our
brief stay did not enable us to discover. Our informant, a
Christian resident of Albanian origin, was quite convinced
that these villagers were Christians with a thin veneer of
Mohammedanism, and declared that, if there were no Sultan,
missionaries could make them by the hundred come over to
profess Christianity openly. He himself was in the habit
of reading the New Testament to them privately, to their
great satisfaction.
Some few of these details we were able to verify person-
ally ; but most of them rest on the authority of our inform-
ant, who is a perfectly trustworthy person.
The same situation for great religious centres has in many
cases continued from a pro-Mohammedan, and even from
a pre-Christian, period. In some cases, as in great cities
like Iconium, the mere continuity of historical importance
might account for the continuity of religious importance;
but in other cases only the local sanctity can explain it, for
the political prominence has disappeared from many places
which retain their religious eminence.
The fact which is most widely and clearly observable in
connection with the localities of modern religious feeling
is that they are in so very many cases identical with the
scenes of ancient life, and often of ancient worship. Every
place which shows obvious traces of human skill and human
handiwork is impressive to the ruder modern inhabitants.
The commonest term to express the awe that such places
182 V [. The Permanence of Religion at

rouse is kara. In actual usage kara (literally, hlack) is
not much used to indicate mere colour. A black object is
siakh ,- but Kara Mehmet means, not Mehmet with black
complexion, but big, or powerful, or strong, or dangerous
Mehmet. Ancient sites are frequently called kara: thus
we have Sanduklu, the modern town, and Kara Sanduklu,
five miles distant, the site of the ancient Phrygian city
Brouzos.
No village names are commoner in modern Turkey in
Asia than Kara Euren, or Karadja Euren, and Kizil Euren.
I have never known a case in which Kizil Euren marks an
ancient site; 1 whereas a Kara or Karaja Euren always, in
my experience, contains remains of antiquity, and often is
the site of an ancient city.
The awe that attaches to ancient places is almost invari-
ably marked by the presence of a dede and his turhe, if not
by some more imposing religious building ; and a religious
map of Asia Minor would be by far the best guide to the
earlier history of the country. Even a junction of two
important ancient roads has its dede: for example, the
point where the road leading north from the Cilician Gates
forks from the road that leads west is still marked by a
little turlie, but by no habitation. [It must, however, be
added, as I have since discovered, that the village Halala
was probably situated there: see Art. XL]
The exceptions to this law are so rare, that in each case
some remarkable fact of history will probably be found
underlying and causing it, and these exceptions ought
always to be carefully observed and scrutinised ; some ap-
parent exceptions turn out to be really strong old examples
1 The name usually marks some obvious feature of the modern village,
e.g., reddish stones.
Holy Places in Western Asia 183

of the rule, as when some very insignificant mark of religious
awe is absolutely the sole mark of modern life and interest
existing upon an otherwise quite deserted site. Two ancient
cities I have seen, and yet cannot actually testify to the
existence of an unbroken religious history on their sites—
Laodicea on the Lycus, and Comana in Cappadocia—but
in the latter case the construction of a modern Armenian
village on a site where fifty years ago no human being
lived has made such a break in its history, that very close
examination would be needed to discover the proof of
continuity. Both these cases are, perhaps, not real ex~
ceptions, but I have never examined them with care for
this special purpose, for it is only in very recent times that
I have come to recognise this principle, and to make it a
guide in discovery.
If we go back to an earlier point in history, no doubt
can remain that the Christian religion in Asia Minor was
in a similar way strongly affected in its forms by earlier
religious facts, though the unity of the Universal Church
did for a time contend strenuously and with a certain degree
of success against local variations and local attachment.
I. The native Phrygian element in Montanism has been
frequently alluded to, and need not be described in detail.
The prophets and prophetesses, the intensity and enthu-
siasm of that most interesting phase of religion, are native
to the soil, not merely springing from the character of the
race, but bred in the race by the air and soil in which it
was nurtured.
2. A woman, who prophesied, preached, baptised, walked
in the snow with bare feet without feeling the cold, and
wrought many wonders of the established type in Cappa-
docia in the beginning of the third century, is described by
184 VI. The Permanence of Religion at

Firmilian, Bishop of Caesarea.1 The local connection did
not interest Firmilian, and is lost to us.
3. Glycerius the deacon, who personated the patriarch
at the festival of Venasa, in Cappadocia, in the fourth
century, was only maintaining the old ritual of Zeus of
Venasa, as celebrated by the high-priest who represented
the god on earth. The heathen god made his annual pro—
gress through his country at the same festival in which
Glycerius led a ceremonial essentially similar in type to the
older ritual. See my Church in the Roman Empire, ch. xviii.
4. The Virgin Mother at the Lakes replaced the Virgin
Artemis of the Lakes, in whose honour a strange and enig-
matic association (known to us by a group of long inscrip-
tions and subscription lists) met at the north-eastern corner
of the Lakes.2
5. The Archangel of Colossm, who clove the remarkable
gorge by which the Lycus passes out of the city, no doubt
was the Christian substitute for the Zeus of Colossae, who
had done the same in primitive time: Herodotus alludes
to the cleft through which the Lycus flows, but does not
mention the religious beliefs associated with it (The Church
in the Roman Erripire, ch. xix.)
6. The Ayasma at Tymandos, to which the Christians of
Apollonia still go on an annual festival, was previously the
wonder-working fountain of Hercules Restitutor, as we
learn from an inscription.
7. In numerous instances the legends of the local heathen
deities were transferred to the local saints, to whose prayers
were ascribed the production of hot springs, lakes and
1 See Cyprian, Epist. 75, § 10.
2 See Articles IV. and V. of this volume. Other examples are quoted in
Article IV., § 2.
Holy Places in Western A sia 1 8 5

other natural phenomena. The examples are too numerous
to mention. Sometimes they enable us to restore with con-
fidence part of the hieratic pagan legends of a district, as,
for example, we find that a familiar Greek legend has been
attached to Avircius Marcellus, a Phrygian historical figure
of the second century, and he is said to have submitted to
the jeers of the mob as he sat on a stone. We may feel
confident that the legend of Demeter, sitting on the rock
called dirye/icao'ros 'n'é'rpa and mocked by the pitiless mob,
which was localised by the Greeks at Eleusis, had its home
also in this district of Phrygia. See also p. 188.
We can then trace many examples of the unbroken con-
tinuance of religious awe attached to special localities from
the dawn of historical memory to the present day. What
reason can be detected for this attachment? In studying
this aspect of the human spirit in its attitude towards the
Divine nature that surrounds it, the first requisite is a re-
ligious map of Asia Minor. This remains to be made, and
it would clear up by actual facts, not darken by rather
hazardous theories (as some modern discussions do), a very
interesting phase of history.1
The extraordinary variety of races which have passed
across Asia Minor, and which have all probably without
exception left representatives of their stock in the country,
makes Asia Minor a specially instructive region to study
in reference to the connection of religion with geographical
facts. Where a homogeneous race is concerned, a doubt
always exists whether the facts are due to national character
--to use a question-begging phrase-—-or to geographical
1The observation and recording of all turbos may be urged on every
traveller in Asia Minor, especially on the French students of the Ecole
d’Athenes, from whom there is so much to hope.
186 V]. The Permanence of Religion at

environment. But where a great number of heterogene-
ous races are concerned, we can eliminate all independent
action of the human spirit, and attain a certainty that,
since races of most diverse character are similarly affected
in this country, the cause lies in the natural character of
the land.
One fact, however, is too obvious and prominent to be a
matter of theory. In a considerable number of cases the
sacred spot has been chosen by the Divine power, and
made manifest to mankind by easily recognised signs. An
entrance from the upper-World to the world of death and of
God and of the riches and wonders of the under-world, is
there seen. The entrance is marked by its appearance, by
the character of the soil, by hot springs, by mephitic odours,
or (as at Tyana) by the cold spring which seems always
boiling, in which the water is always bubbling up from
beneath, yet never overflows. The god has here manifested
his power so plainly that all men must recognise it.
One fact, however, I may refer to in conclusion, on a
subject on which amore knowledge may be hoped for.
Throughout ancient history in Asia Minor a remarkable
prominence in religion, in politics, in society characterises
the position of women. Most of the best attested and
least dubious cases of Mutterrecht in ancient history belong
to Asia Minor; and it has always appeared to me that the
sporadic examples which can be detected among the Greek
races are alien to the Aryan type, and are due to inter-
mixture of custom, and perhaps of blood, from a non-Aryan
stock whose centre seems to be in Asia Minor; others, who
to me are friends and gblkot iii/Opes, differ on this point, and
regard as a universal stage in human development what I
look on as a special characteristic of certain races.
Holy Places in Western Asia 187

Herodotus speaks of the Lycian custom of reckoning
descent through the mother, but the influence of Greek
civilisation destroyed this character, which was barbarian
and not Greek, and hardly a trace of it can be detected
surviving in the later period. Lycia had become Greek
in the time of Cicero, as that orator mentions. When,
however, we go to regions remoter from Greek influence,
we have more hope of discovering traces of the pre-Greek
character, e.g., the inscriptions of a little lsaurian town,
Dalisandos, explored two years ago by my friend Mr.
Hogarth, seem to prove that it was not unusual there to
trace descent through the mother even in the third or the
fourth century after Christ.
Even under the Roman government, and in the most
advanced of civilised cities of the country, one fact persisted,
which can hardly be explained except through the influence
of the old native custom of assigning an unusually high
rank to the female sex. The number of women magistrates
in Asia Minor is a fact that strikes one on an even super-
ficial glance into the later inscriptions.
In the Christian period we find that every heresy in
which the Anatolian character diverged from the standard
of the Universal Church was marked by the prominent
position assigned to women. Even the Jews were so far
affected by the general character of the land, that the unique
example of a woman ruler of the synagogue occurs in an
inscription found at Smyrna.1
We would gladly find some other facts bearing on and
illustrating this remarkable social phenomenon. My own
theory is that it is the result of the superiority in type, pro-
1 See my Church in the Roman Empire, pp. I6I, 345, 360, 375, 438, 452—
459,480-
188 V]. The Permanence of Religion

duced to a noticeable degree by the character of the country
in the character of the women at least of the Greek race, for
the poorer Turkish women are so overworked from childhood
that their physical and mental growth is stunted.1
1Impressions of Turkey, pp. 43, 49, 168, 258, 270 f.
Note to p. 176 f.—-The Turks’ reverence for a Christian holy place (cer-
tainly pro-Christian also), is shown at the monastery of St. Chariton, five
miles VV.N.W. of Iconium, in a narrow rocky glen. The monastery is
deserted, but the buildings are complete and in good order, and the Greeks
celebrate an annual Panegyris there on 28th September, staying several days
at the holy place. Inside the monastery is a small Turkish mosque, to which
the Moslems resort; and the story goes that the son ofa Seljuk sultan fell over
the precipice under which the buildings are, and was saved by St. Chariton.
Inside are shrines also of the Panagia, Saba, and Amphilochius. Chariton
founded monasteries in Palestine. His biography, written after 372, says
he was born at Iconium (Prov. Lycaoniae), and was arrested and liberated
under Aurelian (quite unhistorical).
In a similar glen, a mile north, is a village Tsille, full of holy places,
St. George, Ayios Panteleemon, Panagia, Prophet Elias, Archangel Michael
(whose church was built by Constantine and Helena), and above all the hole
in the rock into which St. Thekla was received, and St. Marina on a hill
opposite her (proving the craving for a female representative of the Great
Goddess (see p. 134 f.). Near St. Marina is a place Ayanni, i.e., St. John.
These lie round the base of St. Philip (see p. 296), and attest the holi—
ness of this mountain region, within which, further north, dwells the
Zizimene Mother at her quicksilver mines.
VII
THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES
VII
THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES
THE question with regard to the historical trustworthiness
and the date of composition of the Acts of the Apostles is
at present in a somewhat delicate and wavering position.
A marked change has taken place during the last ten years
in the attitude of the school which we must call by the
misleading epithet of the “critical” party toward the ques-
tion. Twenty or fifteen years ago there was a large body
of learned opinion in Europe which regarded the question
as practically decided and ended, with the result that the
Acts was a work composed somewhere toward the middle
of the second century after Christ, by an author who held
strong views about the disputes taking place in his own
time, and who wrote a biased and coloured history of the
early stages in Christian history with the intention of in-
fluencing contemporary controversies. The opinion was
widely held in Europe that no scholar who possessed both
honesty and freedom of mind could possibly dispute this
result.
Such extreme opinions are now held chiefly by the less
educated enthusiasts, who catch up the views of the great
scholars and exaggerate them with intense but ill~informed
fervour, seeing only one side of the case and both careless
and ignorant of the opposite side. Setting aside a small
school in Holland, it would be difficult to find in Europe
(191)
192 VI]

any scholar of acknowledged standing who would not at
once admit that criticism has failed to establish that extreme
View, and that an earlier date and greater trustworthiness
can reasonably be claimed for the book. But when we go
beyond this general admission, we find that critical and
scholarly opinion is now wavering and far from self-con-
sistent; it has not attained complete and thorough con-
sciousness of its own position, and it tries to unite prejudices
and feelings of the earlier narrow and confident critical
period with the freer and less dogmatically positive attitude
of the most recent scholarship.
While we are glad at the decisive defeat of the hard-
and-fast confidence expressed by the older criticism, we
desire to acknowledge fully the service that its bold and
acute spirit has rendered to New Testament study. We
believe that, while its results are to a very great degree I
mistaken, and its books may safely be relegated to the
remotest shelves of libraries, its spirit was in many respects
admirable, and it formed a necessary stage in the slow pro-
gress towards truth. We honour many of those whose views
we treat as so mistaken more highly than we do some whose
opinions seem to us to approximate practically much more
closely to the truth, but whose spirit showed little of the
enthusiastic devotion to historical method which charac-
terised the great critical scholars.
But if their spirit was so admirable and their learning so
great, why were their results so far from the truth? That
question must rise to the lips of every reader. Apart from
psychological reasons, such as the too strong reaction and
revolt from the tyranny of an assumed and unverified
standard of orthodox opinion, the great cause of error lay in
misapprehension as to Roman Imperial history. The history
PLATE \"ll.

Fm. Iz.—Thc Bridge over the Cydnus on the East of Tarsus
(Mrs. Christie of 'l‘arsus).
Tuface 192. See f. 274.
The Acts of Me A postles 193

of the Empire has been recreated in the last quarter of a
century. The main facts indeed remain unmodified, but
the spirit, the tone, the point of view are entirely changed.
The Roman Empire has now become known to us in an
entirely different way. The ancient historians recorded
striking events and the biographies of leading personages.
They were almost wholly silent as to the way in which the
Empire was organised and administered, the relation of the
parts to each other, the development of the provinces, and,
in short, almost everything which the modern historian
regards as really important. The mad freaks of Caligula,
the vices of Nero, were recorded in minute detail; but we
look vainly in the old historians for any account of the
method whereby the first six years of Nero’s reign were
made one of the best and happiest periods in the history of
the world.
The truth is that the machinery of government was so
ably put together that it was to a considerable degree inde-
pendent of the personal character of the Emperor, whose
vices and crimes might run riot in the capital and keep his
immediate surroundings in a state of continuous panic with-
out doing much harm to the general administration of the
Empire. The city of Rome was no longer the heart and
brain and seat of life for the Empire. The provinces were
growing every year in importance; and the pre-eminence
of Rome was becoming in some degree a superstition and
an antiquarian survival. But the old historians did not see
the truth ; they still thought that it was beneath the dignity
of Rome to regard the provinces as more than ornamental
appendages and embellishments of her dignity.
In recent years the continuous study of the details of
administration has resulted in bringing them together in
13
194 V]!

such numbers that some conception can be gained of the
real character of Roman Imperial history. Mommsen has
been the organiser of the study. He has had many coad-
jutors. Scholars of many nations have worked under his
direction, formally or informally; but it is he that has
mapped out the work and indicated the proper method;
and he beyond all others has been able to take a compre-
hensive survey of the whole field. But, unfortunately, he
has never written the history of the Empire. He has
published a survey of the provinces of the Empire, lucid and
able, but so brief in its treatment of each separate country
that it is more valuable as teaching general principles than
as a record of the actual facts in each province.
Thus the results of the new methods of Imperial history
have not been fully applied to the study of early Christian
history. They have been little known to the theologians,
and have certainly never been thoroughly appreciated by
them. Now Christianity was the fullest expression of the
new spirit in the Roman Empire, the refusal of the provinces
to accept tamely the tone of Rome. In Christianity the
provinces conquered Rome and recreated the Empire. To
study Christianity from the proper historical point of view,
it is therefore peculiarly necessary to stand on the level of
the new Roman history. There lies the defect in the theo-
logical criticism of the New Testament on its historical side;
it has missed the vital factor in the history, and with many
wise and able suggestions it has erred seriously in the general
view. On the whole, German criticism of early Christian
history has been, and still is, in the pre-Mommsenian stage
as regards its historical spirit.
Let us take an example. For many years critic after
critic discussed the question of Imperial persecution of the
The Acts of the Apostles 19 5

Christians, examined the documents, rejected many indubit-
ably genuine documents as spurious, and misinterpreted
others, with the result that with quite extraordinary un-
animity the first idea of State persecution of Christians was
found in Trajan’s famous “Rescript,” written about A.D.
112 in answer to a report by the younger Pliny. Now
observe the result. If there never was any idea of State
persecution before that year, then all documents which
allude to or imply the existence of State persecution must
belong to a period later than 112. At a stroke the whole
traditional chronology of the early Christian books is de-
molished, for even those which are not directly touched by
that inference are indirectly affected by it. The tradition
lost all value, and had to be set aside as hopelessly vitiated.
But now it is universally admitted, as the fundamental
fact in the case, that Pliny and Trajan treat State persecu-
tion of the Christians as the standing procedure. Pliny
suggests, in a respectful, hesitating, tentative way, reasons
why the procedure should be reconsidered. Trajan recon-
siders it and affirms again the general principle; but in its
practical application he introduces a very decided ameliora-
tion. The only marvel is that any one could read the two
documents and not see how obvious the meaning is. Yet
a long series of critics misunderstood the documents, and
rested their theory of early Christian history on this extra-
ordinary blunder. Beginning with this false theory of dating
and character, they worked it out with magnificent and in-
exorable logic to conclusions which twenty years ago the
present writer, like many others, regarded as unimpeachable,
but which are now seen to be a tissue of groundless fancies.
This change of view as regards the attitude of the Roman
state toward the Christian Church, while it affects the whole
196 V[[
New Testament, has been the turning-point in the tide of
opinion regarding the Acts. That book is the history of early
Christianity in the Roman Empire; there were indubitably
some attempts to propagate Christianity toward the east
and south, beyond the limits of the Empire, but the author
of the Acts regarded these efforts as unimportant and omits
them entirely from his view. The idea that Acts was com-
posed about the middle of the second century was based on
the false conception of the relation between Christianity and
the state, and the new views have driven the current of
educated opinion toward a first-century date. There is a
widespread consensus that, so far as the time of composi-
tion is concerned, there is no reason why the Acts might
not have been written by the friend and companion of Paul,
the beloved physician Luke.
But that conclusion as to authorship is vehemently denied
by most of the European “critical” scholars (to use again
that most objectionable and misleading epithet, which has
become so fixed in the language that it can hardly be
avoided). They find other reasons which seem to them to
prove that this book, written during the probable lifetime
of Luke, could not possibly be the work of an associate of
Paul. It seems to them too full of inaccuracies and even of
blunders as to facts. Two causes, especially, conspire to
produce this opinion (which we think erroneous).
In the first place, the minute dissection and scrutiny of
details made by the older critics still exercise a great in-
fluence even on those who unhesitatingly reject the general
result. Forgetful that a scrutiny made under a false pre-
possession and with a false method cannot be trustworthy,
they approach each detail with the stern “critical” judg—
merit still ringing in their ears and biasing their minds
The Acts of Me Apostles 197

unconsciously. Thus there is manifest in their work much
wavering and uncertainty of view. At one moment they
condemn the old judgment ; but on another page the earlier
criticism rises as fresh and strong as ever, and opinions and
principles are assumed which have no defence except in the
older critical view, and which are mere assumptions unjusti-
fiable on the more modern view. Accordingly, what is
urgently required at the present time in early Christian
history is a completely new start, free from all assumptions
whether on the “critical” or on the “traditional ” side. We
have to begin by stripping ourselves of all our inherited
views and all the views put into us by teachers (often justly
revered and almost idolised teachers), and test every sugges-
tion and every opinion before we begin to utilise them in
rebuilding the fabric of our knowledge. Such is the method
in which the Acts of the Apostles should now be studied.
In the second place, while part of the old misconception
as to the relation between the Empire and the Christians
has been cleared away, much misapprehension still remains.
It is not recognised clearly enough that Paul, from a very early
stage in his career, must have had a clear idea of a Christian
Roman Empire. The new religion was to conquer the whole
world, to recognise no bounds of nationality, and to include
the barbarian and the Scythian as well as the Jew, the Greek,
and the Roman. But his method of conquering the world
was to begin with the Empire of which he was a citizen.
Starting with the great cities of Southern Galatia, he was
eager next to go to Ephesus; and though diverted from it
for a time by the Divine revelation, which led him first to
Macedonia and to Corinth, yet he returned to it again.
There is a remarkable passage in the late Dr. Hort’s Lec—
cares on Colossians ana’ Ephesians, p. 82, pointing out how
198 V]!

large a place the Ephesian scheme filled in Paul’s plans.
N 0 one who reads that paragraph can doubt that Dr. Hort,
as he described Paul’s eagerness to evangelise Ephesus, had
in his mind the idea that Paul conceived Ephesus as the
gate of the East toward the West (which in fact it was), and
as the next step in the conquest of the Roman Empire; he
had already established his position in Syrian Antioch, in
Tarsus, in Iconium and Pisidian Antioch. Ephesus was the
intermediate step toward Corinth, which he had already
occupied. After he had planted his banner in Ephesus, he
had established his line of communication firmly along the
great road that led to the capital of the Empire; and then
he announced to his lieutenants, “I must also see Rome”
(Acts xix. 21). Shortly afterward he wrote to the Romans,
“ I will go on by you into Spain,” the great province of the
West; and incidentally he mentioned to them other pro-
vinces, Illyricum, Macedonia, Achaia. That is the language,
not of a mere enthusiast, but of the general and statesman
who plans out the conquest of the Empire. He talks of
provinces; and as he marches on his victorious course, he
plants his footsteps in their capitals. See p. 77 f.
Such is the conception of Paul’s statesmanlike schemes
to which many recent scholars are tending. For example,
Principal A. Robertson, of King’s College, London, writes
in The Ealcositor, January, 1899, p. 2: “ With Ramsay I
assume that the evangelisation of the Roman world as such
was an object consciously before his mind and deliberately
planned ; that was the case before he wrote to the Romans ”.
But if that be so, then Paul’s classification of his
churches must have been according to the Roman system_
He himself is our authority for saying that he so classified
them; he speaks of the churches of Asia, of Achaia, of
The Acts of the Apostles 199

Macedonia, of Galatia. The first three names indicate
Roman provinces; no one questions that. The fourth also
must equally indicate a Roman province. But there lies the
difficulty and controversy, which must be settled before any
further progress is possible. That Galatia in Paul’s epistles
must be regarded as the province is now very widely ad-
mitted in Britain, and, as I am told, also in America; in
Germany a growing number of distinguished scholars also
hold that view, e.g., Zahn, Clemen, and many others, but
there the majority is distinctly on the opposite side. It is
unnecessary to mention here the many serious questions of
early Christian history that depend on this controversy,
trivial as it seems in itself; the present writer and many
much abler and more learned scholars have discussed them
in a series of works. This is the next point which must
be agreed upon in the study of the Acts, before any serious
progress can be made.
The present writer, starting with the confident assump-
tion that the book was fabricated in the middle of the
second century, and studying it to see what light it could
throw on the state of society in Asia Minor, was gradually
driven to the conclusion that it must have been written in
the first century and with admirable knowledge. It plunges
one into the atmosphere and the circumstances of the first
century; it is out of harmony with the circumstances and
spirit of the second century. In the first century the chief
fact of Roman Imperial policy in the centre and east of Asia
Minor was the gradual building up of the vast and complex
province of Galatia (as the Romans, including the Roman
Paul, called it), or the Galatic Territory (as the Greeks, in-
cluding the Greek Luke, who composed the Acts of the
Apostles, called it). That was no longer the case in the
zoo 17]]

second century; that state of things had then ceased to
exist, and it was not a conception that could be restored
by historical investigation; it had been a matter of spirit
and tone and atmosphere, which when it ceased was never
again appreciated or understood till the latest development
of Roman historical study had recreated the process which
we may call the Romanisation of Asia Minor.
Starting with the belief that Galatia in the New Testa-
ment was not the province, the writer found that Acts and
the Epistles plunged him into the movements and forces
acting in Asia Minor during the first century, when the
Roman sphere of duty called Galatia was the great political
fact. As he gradually and by slow steps threw off the mis-
conceptions in which he had been trained, and realised that
Paul thought as the Romans thought and spoke about the
provinces of Rome, he found that, one by one, the difficulties
which had been seen in the Acts disappeared, because they
had their origin in misconceptions as to the period and
circumstances of history. This view, that Paul wrote from
the Roman standpoint, was only partially grasped in the
present writer’s earlier works, and has probably not yet been
fully utilised by him. But already it has enabled him to
appreciate the close relations and perfect harmony of view
between the apostle and his disciple, the author of the Acts,
and to set forth, in however imperfect fashion, the conception
which both of them entertained of the growth of the early
Church, as the subjugation of the Empire by the new pro-
vincial power of life and truth, the vitalising influence first
for the Roman state and later for the world.
VIII
THE LAWFUL ASSEMBLY
VIII
THE LAWFUL ASSEMBLY
(AeTs XIX. 39)
WHILE it is a very important thing to study the books of
the New Testament in connection with the actual life and
circumstances of the countries and cities in which the events
occurred, it is doubly important that the circumstances by
which it is sought to illustrate the books should be correctly
conceived, as otherwise the light that is cast may be mis-
leading. I f I venture in these pages to bring forward some
examples to show the necessity of carefulness in this useful
work of illustrating the New Testament writers, it is not
that I have any claim to be immaculate myself. I welcome
any criticism which aids me to find out the errors which
I know must exist in my poor attempts; but the criticism
that is useful to a Writer in this respect must begin by really
trying to understand what end he is striving to attain,
and what are the steps by which he proposes to attain it,
and must not condemn him off~hand for differing from
what the critic has accepted beforehand as the recognised
view.
The example I shall here select is in Acts xix. 39, which
is rendered in the Authorised Version, “but if ye inquire
any thing concerning other matters, it shall be determined in
a lawful assembly,” while the Revised Version has it, “but
(203)
204 V[[[

if ye seek anything about other matters,1 it shall be settled
in the regular assembly”. I propose only to consider the
last phrase and the discrepancy between the two versions.
Two questions suggest themselves: why did the Revisers
alter “ a lawful Assembly ” into“ the regular Assembly,” 2 and
is the alteration an improvement?
The answer is by no means easy. In seeking the solu—
tion we shall see that hasty comparison of a phrase in an
author with a usage in an inscription may be misleading, if
it is not guided by consideration of the general sense of the
whole passage. In doing so we shall incidentally observe
that a scholar who is simply studying the evolution of con-
stitutional history, in the Graeco-Asian cities, so far from
finding any reason to distrust the accuracy of the picture of
Ephesian government in this episode, discovers in it (as did,
e.g., Bishop Lightfoot and Canon Hicks) valuable evidence
which is nowhere else accessible. The practical man, and
the scholar who studies antiquities for their own sake, will
always find Acts a first-hand and luminous authority. It is
only the theorist (eager to find or to make support for his
pet theory about the steps by which Church history de-
veloped, and annoyed that Acts is against him) that distrusts
the author of Acts, and finds him inadequate, incomplete, or
inaccurate. And, as Luke is so logical, complete and
“photographic” in his narrative, the only useful way of
studying him is to bring practical knowledge and sense of the
connection and fitness of things to bear on him. There is
11rrpl é're'pwv as in the vast majority of M85. There can, however,
hardly be any hesitation in preferring wepai'répw with B, confirm d by the
Latin ulterius in Codex Bezaa (where the Greek has 'n'epi é'rs'pwv), and in the
Stockholm old-Latin version (Gig).
‘1 The Greek is £11 'rfi e’rudttcy émcAnm'qi: we shall use the rendering, “ the
duly constituted Assembly ”.
The Lavojnl Assernhly 205

no author who has suffered so much from the old method of
study practised by the scholar, who sits in his library and
cuts himself off from practical life and the interest in reality,
and in the things of reality.
Romans and Greeks were alike familiar with the dis-
tinction between a properly and legally convened Assembly
of the people—in exercise of the supreme powers that be-
longed to the people and could be exercised only through a
lawful Assembly called together according to certain rules-—
and a mere assemblage of the people to hear a statement by
a magistrate or give vent to some great popular feeling in a
crisis. An assemblage of the latter class was liable to pass
into disorder, and was certainly disliked and discouraged by
the Imperial administration. In the Republican period of
Rome magistrates often hastily convened such an assemblage
of the people, when they wanted to impart some important
news; but the assemblage, which was known as a contio,
could exercise no authority and pass no resolution, but
merely listen to the statement of the magistrate who con-
vened it and of any one whom the magistrate invited to
speak (,oroclnxit in contionenz). Such assemblages often
became disorderly in the later Republican period, and under
the Empire were almost wholly disused in Rome, and dis-
couraged in the provincial cities.
It happens that the text of the latter part of the speech,
delivered by the Secretary of the tatc of Ephesus-1 to the
noisy assembly in the theatre, is very doubtful ; but, fortun-
ately, the general run of the meaning and argument is quite
1 The rendering “ Town-clerk,” or “ Clerk,” suggests an inadequate idea
of the rank and importance of this official. Lightfoot, in the paper which we
shall quote in this article (Contemporary Review, March, 1878, reprinted in
appendix to Essays on Supernatural Religion), was the first properly to ap-
preciate and emphasise this,
206 VI]!

clear. The Secretary pointed out (v. 38) that, if Demetrius
and the associated guild had any ground of complaint, they
had a legal means of redress before the proper court, via,
the Roman “Assizes” (conventus), at which the proconsul
presided;1 (v. 39) if they sought anything further, i.e., if
they desired to get any resolution passed with regard to the
future conduct of the citizens and of resident non-citizens2
in reference to this matter,3 the business would be carried
through in the duly constituted Assembly, i.e., in the public
Assembly meeting with powers to transact business (whereas
the present meeting had no power to transact business); (v.
40) and in fact there was a serious risk that the present
utterly unjustified and unjustifiable meeting should be re-
garded by the Imperial government (i.e., the proconsul, in
the first instance) as a case of riot, and should lead to stern
treatment of the whole city and curtailment of its liberties
and powers.
What then is the exact sense of the term “duly consti-
tuted Assembly” in v. 39? Apparently the argument is
this: “the present Assembly is not duly constituted, and
you cannot serve your own purpose by persisting in it, for
it is not qualified to pass any measure or transact any
business; and therefore you should go away and take the
recognised necessary steps for having your business brought
before a properly constituted Assembly. But, further, the
present meeting may lead to very serious consequences and
to punishment which will fall heavily on the whole city,
1We note that the Secretary assumes at once that the ground of com-
plaint is something serious. In a city like Ephesus trifling actions were
disposed of by the city magistrates; their limit of power in this respect is
uncertain, but was certainly very humble.
201? 56/1/01. 01‘ Ica'roucofzr'res, Or e’m'o‘n/tofir'res, Acts xvii. 21.
3I follow M1. Page’s sensible note on 62 66/ Tl. rrepoure'pw gn'rei're.
The Lawful Assemhly 207

including your own selves.” Consequently the whole force
of the argument compels us to treat the Greek term as
meaning “the people duly assembled in the exercise of its
powers”. In the constitution of Ephesus, as a free Greek
City-State (vi-time), all power ultimately resided in the
Assembly of the citizens; and in the Greek period the
Assembly had held in its own hands the reins of power, and
exercised the final control over all departments of govern-
ment. In the Roman period the Assembly gradually lost
the reality of its power, for the Imperial Roman adminis-
tration, which had abolished the powers of the popular
Assembly in Rome, was naturally not disposed to regard
with a favourable eye the popular Assemblies of cities in
the provinces. Hence meetings of the popular Assembly
in Ephesus and other Asian cities tended to become mere
formalities, at which the bills sent to it by the Senate of
the city were approved. But, at the period in question, the
Assembly of the people was still, at least in name, the
supreme and final authority; and with it lay the ultimate
decision on all public questions. Not merely did it continue
to be mentioned along with the Senate in the preamble
to all decrees passed by the City-State under the Roman
Empire, as giving validity and authority;1 it still probably
retained the right to reject the decrees sent before it by the
Senate.2
The term “lawful Assembly” therefore embraces all
meetings of the Assembly qualified to set in motion the
1 That form of preamble “it was resolved by the Senate and the popular
Assembly” (A6056 q-fi Bovitfi nal 'rcf.‘ ‘(r/mp) continued for more than two
centuries later, after it had become a mere form corresponding to no real
expression of the popular will.
2At a later date it certainly lost this right, and met merely to accept the
decrees.
208 V[[[

powers resident in the People. These meetings were of two
kinds: (1) stated, regular meetings held on certain regular,
customary days (called vétauoc e’k/cAno—t'ac in an inscription
of Ephesus,1 and nvpt'ac émmyatat at Athens); (2) extra-
ordinary meetings held for special or pressing business
(called ority/chime éic/cknoiai at Athens, while the Ephesian
technical term is unknown). One seems driven to the
conclusion that the intention of the Secretary was to select a
term that included both regular and extraordinary meetings.
What he said amounted to this, “Bring your business before
a meeting that is qualified to deal with it, either taking the
proper steps to have a special meeting called to discuss your
business, or, if it is not so immediately urgent and you
prefer the other course for any reason, bringing it after due
intimation before the next ordinary, regular meeting of the
People”.
On this interpretation it would seem that the rendering
in the Authorised Version “lawful” is correct, and that the
Revisers were not well advised in substituting the term
“regular”. The term “regular” suggests only Vtlfbt/LOL
é/c/cAno-iat. and shuts out specially summoned meetings of
the People, whereas the Secretary desired to use a term
that should include every legal class of meetings.
Further, the Secretary seems distinctly to use the term
“ Lawful Assembly” in contrast to the present illegal meet-
)3
ing, which he styled “riot and which the historian calls
a confused Assembly,2 inasmuch as the majority did not
know what was the business before the meeting (v. 32).
This also would suggest that “lawful” is the antithesis
required, and would defend the Authorised Version.
1 Hicks, Greek Inscriptions ofthe British Museum, No. 481, l. 340.
2 émtitno't’a o'vvneXv/ie'w; (v. 40).
PLATE VIII.

‘4|
lei
Flo. 13.—St. Paul’s Gate on the West of Tarsus (Mrs. Christie of Tarsus).
Toface f». 208. See 1). 275.
The Lawful Assemhly 209

On the other hand, however, the evidence 1 seems to be
strong that in Greece é'vvo/ioc was an equivalent but less
common term for the regular ordinary Assembly (mini/toe
being far commoner) ; and the evidence has convinced most
scholars—Wetstein, Lightfoot, Wendt, Blass, and many
others (including Stephani Thesaurus). In that case, ap-
parently, we are bound to prefer the translation “regular”
in v. 39, and the Revisers would appear to be right in alter-
ing the Authorised Version. Thus two different lines of
investigation lead to opposite conclusions.
But we must bear in mind that the reasoning in the last
paragraph is founded on a distinction that belongs to
purely Greek constitutional conditions. Ephesus was no
longer a Greek city. It retained indeed the external ap-
pearance of Greek city government; but the real character
of the old Greek constitution was already seriously altered,
and even the outward form was in some respects changed.
We cannot therefore attach very great importance to an
analogy with a fact of the old Greek constitutional practice
until it is clearly proved, or at least made probable, that
that practice remained unaffected by the Roman spirit. It
is certain, indeed, that a distinction of ordinary (rout/loos
Kai, GUI/776628‘) and extraordinary meetings was Roman as
much as Greek ; but the question must be settled how the
Roman administration affected the Greek Assembly (é/c-
nlvqo-ia) in Ephesus.
I think that the true solution is furnished by some re-
marks of M. Lévy in an instructive and admirable study of
the constitution of the Graeco-Asian cities, which he has
recently published in the Revue des Etudes Grecgues, 1895,
1 It may be found in any good lexicon and in the commentators.
I4
210 V[[[

pp. 203-255.1 If he is right, and he seems to me to be so,
we must look at the incident recorded in Acts as an episode
in the gradual process, by which the central Roman ad-
ministration interfered in the municipal government of
these cities. As he says on p. 216, the Roman officials
exercised the right themselves to summon a meeting of
the Assembly whenever they pleased, and he also considers
that distinct authorisation by the Roman officials was re-
quired before an Assembly could be legally summoned.
N ow, as we have already seen, the Imperial government
was very jealous of the right of popular Assemblies. We
may therefore conclude with confidence that the Roman
officials were unlikely to give leave for any Assembly be-
yond that certain regular number which was agreed upon
and fixed beforehand.2 Thus the “regular” Assemblies
had come to be practically equivalent to the “lawful”
Assemblies; the extraordinary Assemblies called by the
officers of the city, which in the Greek period had been
legal, were now disallowed and illegal; and extraordinary
1 While the paper, which is only the first of a promised series, enables
me already to add much to the slight general sketch of the constitution of
these cities given in chap. ii. of my Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia, it seems
to me not to necessitate any change of importance in what I have said
(though I should of course like now to rewrite in better form not merely that
chapter, but every chapter I have ever written). [In Levy, p. 216, n. (2), read
“ II., 236 ”.]
2 Dion Chrysostom’s Oration XLVIII. was delivered at Prusa in an ex-
traordinary meeting of the Assembly (e’imAno-I’a) held by permission of the
proconsul Varenus Rufus; but we observe that (I) the elaborate compliment
to the proconsul for his kindness in permitting the Assembly suggests that it
was an unusual favour, (2) the business seems to have been merely compli-
mentary and ornamental, to judge from Dion’s speech ; (3) the administration
of Bithynia fell at the period in question into a state of great laxity (even the
law against collegia was suffered to be violated), so that Trajan had to send
Pliny on a special mission to reform the government of the province (see
Hardy’s Introduction to his edition of Pliny, pp. 24, 48).
The Lawful A ssenehly 2 1 I

Assemblies were now only summoned by Roman officials.
It was therefore necessary for Demetrius to wait until the
next regular Assembly, before he could have any opportun-
ity of legally bringing any business before the People.
We conclude, then, that neither the rendering of the
Authorised nor that of the Revised Version is in itself
actually incorrect in point of Greek; but the former alone
is correct in the actual circumstances of this case. It is
indeed true that the Greek term used by Luke generally
bears the meaning which the Revised Version attributes to it.
But it was not the technical term ordinarily used in Ephesus
in that sense; and, as a matter of fact, special Assemblies
had ceased to be convened before this time, and the Secre-
tary could not have been thinking of such Assemblies.
Accordingly we fail to find any sufficient reason for
altering a rendering which was quite good and had become
familiar ; and we cannot acquit the Revisers of having made
the change under the influence of an inadequate conception
of the constitutional facts involved.1 They are in no wise
to be blamed for their incomplete understanding of the facts,
for the materials were not accessible to them; and until M.
Lévy’s masterly exposition of them, the difficulty was ap-
parently insoluble. But none the less is it regrettable that
they altered the text, for the idea of a lawfully constituted
Assembly qualified to exercise the powers resident in the
People is demanded here by the logic of the passage as a
whole, and is better expressed by the word “lawful”. In
fact, it would appear that the Secretary was not at the
moment thinking of the technical distinction between
regular and extraordinary meetings. Had he been thinking
1 We may understand that they would not have made a change, unless
they had considered that “lawful” was distinctly incorrect.
21 2 VI]!

of that distinction, he would have used the technical term
véncnoc, which seems naturally to have risen to the lips of
an Ephesian when that distinction was prominent in his
thought. Thus in the inscription already quoted,1 it is pro-
vided that a statue of Athena, as patroness of education and
all arts, dedicated to Artemis and to the rising generations
of Ephesus in future times, should be brought into every
regular meeting of the People (meal who-av véucnov e’n-
mayo-lav). The extraordinary meetings are here excepted
from the provision recorded in this inscription, either be-
cause they were hastily summoned and time did not permit
of the necessary preparations for bringing the statue,or
because they were only summoned by Roman officials, and
were not in the same strict sense voluntary meetings of the
Ephesian People exercising its own powers.
APPENDIX: THE TEXT OF ACTS x1x. 40
We naturally proceed to inquire whether the new light
thrown by M. Lévy on the circumstances of this Ephesian
meeting help to solve the difi’iculty of the reading in v. 40,
in which Westcott and Hort consider “some primitive
error probable”. In that sentence the Secretary proceeds
to forecast the possible future, with a view to intimidate
the disorderly assemblage and induce them to disperse
quietly. In forming an opinion as to the text, therefore,
we must, in the first place, try to forecast the possible
sequence of events. As M. Levy says, the Roman adminis-
tration had the power to prohibit indefinitely the right of
holding meetings of the People; and it depended solely on
their goodwill when they should allow a city to resume the
1 Hicks, No. 481, l. 340.
The Lawful A ssemhly 2 1 3

right, after it had once been prohibited. The occurrence of
this large meeting in the theatre might be looked into by
the Roman officials. It had not been authorised by them ;
and the city would have some difficulty in explaining satis-
factorily its origin. The only explanation that could be
accepted would consist in showing that some serious cause
had existed for the unusual occurrence. It is then natural
that the Secretary, when representing to the assemblage the
danger which they were incurring, should point out that
when the Roman administration investigated the case, it
would not be possible to assign any cause which could
justify the concourse. His oration, as actually delivered,
undoubtedly emphasised this point at some length, and
pressed home the danger of the situation; for this is the
climax and peroration of the speech, which was so eflica—
cious as to calm the excited crowd, and induce them to
retire peaceably; and nothing but fear was likely to calm
the rage of an Ionian city. But in the brief report that has
come down to us the peroration has been compressed into
one single sentence (v. 40); and the sentence, which de-
scribes the probable investigation and the want of any
sufficient plea in defence, has become obscure through the
attempt to say a great deal in a few words. The stages of
the future are thus sketched out: there is likely to be an
investigation and charge of riotous conduct (ncvdvvetio/cev
é'YKG/AEZO'QLZL o'Tcioews) arising out of to-day’s Assembly ('rrepl
'Tijq O'TJ/LGPOV); 1 we shall be required to furnish an explana-
1 Blass understands 1repl 'rijs ov’q/iepov (e’mranoias). Page and Meyer-Wendt
understand 1r6pl 'r'iis m’yuepou (hue’pas), and Page compares xx. 26. The ulti-
mate sense is not afl‘ected by the difference. Personally,l should follow
Blass, whose understanding of the words gives a much more effective and
Lukan turn to the thought; but the Bezan Reviser evidently agreed with
Page. See below, under (3).
214 VI]!

tion of the concourse to the Romans, whose maxim is
“ dz'vz'de to command” and who are always jealous of meet-
ings that bear in any way on politics or government (kéryoz/
d'n'odoiivac wepl 'rfiq avo-"rpogbfic 'razlrrnq) ; no sufficient reason
exists by mentioning which1 we shall be able to explain
satisfactorily the origin of the meeting (,rmySevos ain'ov {mi-cip-
Xov'roq 'n'epi oi) Svmyo'dlaeda )td'yov c’wroBofiz/ac).
Here we have, in the text of the inferior MSS., a logical
and complete summary of the future, stated in a form that
can be construed easily, even though brevity has made
the expression a little harsh.2 On the other hand, the
great MSS. give a reading3 which cannot be accepted for
the following reasons: (I) We observe that those warm
defenders of the great MSS, Westcott and Hort, with
their great knowledge of Lukan style, consider it to in-
volve a corruption; and most people will come to the
same conclusion.
(2) The only possible construction of this text connects
,unySevbq airiov i§7rcipxovroc with the preceding clause KLZI—
SUVGZjO/LGV . . . Uni/£6,007); but, as we have seen, the logic of
the speech connects the thought involved in these words
with the following clause.
(3) It is clear that the Bezan Reviser (whom we believe
to have been at work in the second century of our era)
1 This use of 'n'c-pi approximates closely to the common sense “ as re-
gards,” or “with reference to” (quod attinet ad), as in some of the examples
quoted in the lexicons. Compare ad in Tertullian, Aj>ol., 25. Blass seems
to hold that the sense is, “since there exists no charge, concerning which
we shall be able to frame a defence” (which conveys no clear idea to me).
2The harshness arises chiefly from the sense of wepl 05, (with reference
to which cause we may render an explanation of the concourse), immediately
before 1repl 'rfis avrrrrpoqn'is, where the preposition has a different sense. The
Bezan Reviser felt the awkwardness, and modified the sentence to avoid the
second occurrence of nepl. See below, under (3).
3 wepl 05 or’) ‘duvncrdpeBa, K.'r.7\.
The Lawful A ssernhly 2 I 5

had before him the text of the inferior MSS., and in his
usual style he modified it to avoid some of the harshness
of the original, Kcvhvveilo/tev o'n'nepov é'y/cahe'lo'flat o'Tcioews,
,wqdevbc al'rlov o'zrroc wepl. of) Sui/070671.660. c’mrohoiivac Min/0v
The o'vo'rpocpfis ‘Ta/257775‘.
(4) The corruption in the great MSS. is easily explained :
there was a natural temptation to get the form “we shall
not be able to explain this concourse,” and this was readily
attained by doubling two letters, reading wepl 05 013 Sumo-6—
,aefla. We find that the same fault occurs in two other
places in this scene: one letter '7; is doubled in W. 28 and
34 so as to produce the reading Meyer»); 7) "Apr-ence, where, as
I have elsewhere 1 argued, the Bezan reading nerycikn "Ap'rejats
coincides with a characteristic formula of invocation, and
deserves preference.
(5) If we follow the authority of the great MSS., and
read 'n'epl 013 0:3, Meyer-Wendt’s former suggestion,2 that
Mae/2.9 alrlov ovrolpxovroc was placed by the author after
o'vo'rpocbijs mew)? and got transposed to its present posi-
tion, would give a sense and logical connection such as we
desire; but it involves the confession that all MSS. are wrong.
Moreover, the text of the inferior MSS. and the Bezan
reading cannot be derived from it by any natural process.
Thus we find ourselves obliged to prefer the reading of
the inferior MSS. to that of the great MS S.
1 Church in Rom. Emp" p. 135 f.; St. Paul the Traveller, p. 279.
2 In the latest edition they coincide with Page’s construction, which gives
sense, but which (as above implied) we must, with Westcott and Hort, reject
as not of Lukan style, and as illogical. It would, however, give much the
same ultimate meaning as that which we get from the inferior MSS.
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IX
THE OLIVE-TREE AND THE WILD-
OLIVE
PLATE IX.
ear-aw: - -.- r--_-. 9 u m .- 6


‘ 4*".

FIG. 15.—The American College in Tarsus and the Snowy Taurus (Mrs. Christie of Tarsus)
To face p. 218. See p. 278.
IX
THE OLIVE-TREE AND THE WILD-OLIVE1
I
But if some of the branches were broken ofl, and thou, being a wild
olive, wast grafted in among them, and didst become partaker with them
of the root of the fatness of the olive tree ; glory not over the branches : but
if thou gloriest, it is not than that bearest the root, but the root thee. Thou
wilt say then, Branches were broken of, that I might be grafted in. Well;
by their unbelief they were broken ojf, and thou standest by thy faith. Be
not highminded, but fear : for if God spared not the natural branches,
neither will He spare thee. Behold then the goodness and severity of God :
toward them that fell, severity ,' but toward thee, God’s goodness, if thou con-
tinue in His goodness : otherwise thou also shalt be cut of. And they also,
if they continue not in their unbelief, shall be grafted in : for God is able
to graft them in again. For if thou wast cut out of that which is by
nature a wild olive tree, and wast grafted contrary to nature into a good
olive tree: how much more shall these, which are the natural branches,
be grafted into their own olive tree P--Romans xi. 17-24.
FEW passages in St. Paul’s writings have given rise to so
much erroneous comment as the above ; and the widespread
idea that he was unobservant and ignorant of nature and
blind to the ordinary processes of the world around him
seems to be mainly founded on the false views that have
1 I have consulted my colleague Professor J. W. H. Trail, Professor of
Botany, on the subject of this paper; and he has cleared up several points
for me; but I refrain from quoting his opinion on any special point, lest I
should be mixing my own with his more scientific ideas.
(219)
220 [X

been taken of his allusion to the process of grafting. The
misunderstanding of this passage has caused such far-reach-
ing misapprehension that a careful discussion of it seems to
be urgently called for. It is advisable to treat the subject
in a wider view than may at first sight seem necessary; but
the wider treatment is forced on the writer by the necessities
of the case and the demands of clearness, though his first
intention was only to write a short statement on the subject.
The unfortunate omission in Dr. Hastings’ Dictionary of die
Bio/e, iii., 616, of any description of the cultivation of the
Olive, closely though the subject bears on the understanding
of many passages in the Bible, at once compels and excuses
the length of the treatment here. Dr. Post, who wrote
the article “Olive” in the Dictionary, would have been an
excellent authority on this subject, on account of his long
residence in Syria; but by some oversight he has omitted
it entirely. A fuller account of the tree is given by Dr.
Macalister under “ Food ” (ii., 31) and “Oil” (iii, 591); but
the culture of the tree could not well be treated under those
headings, and is therefore wholly omitted in the Dictionary.
Under “Grafting” Dr. Hastings himself refers forward to
“ Olive,” anticipating the account which after all is not there
given. Moreover Dr. Post’s article “ Oil-Tree” (iii, 592) states
views which are in some respects so diametrically opposed
to ordinary opinions and supported by arguments which are
in some respects so questionable, that the subject requires
further treatment.1
The expression “questionable,” which has been applied
in the preceding paragraph to a statement made by so good
1 Mr. McLean’s articles“ Olive” and “ Oil-Tree ” in Encyc. Bibl. are good
but very brief. He is bold enough to hint that there is no proof of the re-
cently invented British view that the Oleaster is Eleagnus angustifolia.
The Olive- Tree ana’ the W ilcl-Olive 22 1

an authority as Dr. Post, needs justification. He says (iii.,
591) that, when Nehemiah viii. I5, in a list of five kinds of
foliage brought from the mountains “to make booths,”
mentions both Wild-Olive and Olive, “the difference be-
tween the latter and the Wild-Olive is so small, that it is
quite unlikely that it would have been mentioned by a
separate name in so brief a list of trees used for the same
purpose”. Accordingly he infers that the Hebrew word,
which is there translated “Wild-Olive,” is the name of a
different tree, and that Wild-Olive is a mistranslation.1 It
is difficult to justify this inference. Pausanias (ii., 32) men-
tions Olive and Wild-Olive in a list of three trees; Artemi-
dorus (iv., 52) mentions them as two different kinds of foliage
used for garlands. The Olive crown was considered by the
ancients essentially different from the Wild-Olive crown,
sacred to a different deity and used for a different purpose.
Many modern botanists (as Professor Fischer mentions in
his treatise2 Der Oelhanne, p. 4 f.) consider that Olive and
Wild-Olive are two distinct species, wholly unconnected
with one another. It seems natural and probable that the
order should be issued, as Nehemiah says, to bring both
Olive and Wild-Olive branches: had either name been
omitted the order would have excluded one of the most
abundant and suitable kinds of foliage.
I do not pretend to be able satisfactorily to give the
required treatment of the subject; but I may at least be
able to call attention to it, point out defects in the recognised
English authorities and in the statements which are repeated
by writer after writer as if they were true, and provoke a
1 It will be necessary to discuss the nature of the Wild-Olive more fully
in the second part of this article.
2 This work is more fully described below.
222 [X

more thorough treatment by some better scholar. Even, if
I should in turn make some mistakes in a subject in which I
am only an outsider, devoid of scientific knowledge, these will
be corrected in some fuller discussion which may hereafter
be given. The present article is written by a geographer
and historian,not by a botanist ; but the modern conception
of geography, and especially of historical geography, compels
the writer in that subject to touch often on historical botany,
the diffusion of trees, and the discovery and spread of the
art of domesticating and cultivating and improving fruit-trees.
Clearness will probably be best attained by stating first
of all the interpretation which is suggested by the actual
facts of Olive-culture, and thereafter it will be easier to see
how mistaken are many of the inferences that have been
drawn from misinterpretation of the passage. I had long
been puzzled by it, feeling that there was something in it
which was not allowed for by the modern scholars who dis-
cussed it, and yet being unable to specify what the omitted
factor was. The perusal of an elaborate study of the Olive-
tree and the Olive-culture of the Mediterranean lands by
Professor Theobald Fischer, who has devoted thirty years
to the study of the Mediterranean fruit-trees, revealed the
secret. Professor Fischer has discovered a fact of Olive-
culture which had escaped all mere tourists and ordinary
travellers, and even such a careful observer as Rev. W. M.
Thomson in that excellent old work The Land and the Pooh
(which deserves a higher rank than many much more im-
posing and famous studies published by more recent
scholars and observers, who had not seen nearly so much
as Mr. Thomson did during his thirty years’ residence, and
who in respect of accuracy about facts and details of
Palestine sometimes leave something to be desired).
Tke OZz'r/e- T wee and Me W z'ld— Olive 2 2 3

No better authority than Professor Fischer could be de-
sired or obtained. He knows the subject in all its breadth
better probably than any other living man: an experienced
practical Olive-cultivator might surpass him in certain points
of knowledge as regards one country, but Professor Fischer
has studied it for all countries and all times. He has created
a method and a sphere of research, and gathered around
him a school to carry out his system of observation and
study. As regards Palestine, but no other Mediterranean
country, he points out that the process which St. Paul had
in view is still in use in exceptional circumstances at the
present day. He mentions that it is customary to rein-
vigorate an Olive-tree which is ceasing to bear fruit, by
grafting it with a shoot of the Wild-Olive, so that the sap of
the tree ennobles this wild shoot and the tree now again
begins to bear fruit.1
It is a well-established fact that, as a result of grafting,
both the new shoot and the old stock are affected. The
grafted shoot affects the stock below the graft, and in its
turn is affected by the character of the stock from which it
derives its nourishment. Hence, although the old stock
had lost vigour and ceased to produce fruit, it might recover
strength and productive power from the influence of the
vigorous wild shoot which is grafted upon it, while the fruit
that is grown on the new shoot will be more fleshy and
richer in oil than the natural fruit of the Wild-Olive. Such
is the inevitable process ; and it is evident from the passage
1 “ An das noch heute in Palastina gei'ibte Verfahren, einen filbaum, der
Fruchte zu tragen authort, zu verjiingen, indem man ihn mit einem der
Wilden Wurzeltriebe pfropft, so dass der Saft des Baumes diesen Wilden
Trieb veredelt und der Baum nun Wieder Friichte tragt, spielt der Apostel
Paulus an Romer ii. 17 ” (Der Oelbaum—Petermanns MitteiL, Erganzungsheft,
NO- 147, P- 9)-
224 [X

in Romans, even without any other authority, that the
ancients had observed this fact and availed themselves of
it for improving weak and unproductive trees. The words
of Romans xi. I 7 show the whole process employed in such
cases ; the tree Was pruned, and after the old branches had
been cut away the graft was made. The cutting away of
the old branches was required to admit air and light to the
graft, as well as to prevent the vitality of the tree from being
too widely diffused over a large number of branches.
This single authority would be sufficient proof to one
who brings to the account a right estimate of St. Paul’s
character as a writer; but further independent ancient
authority corroborates him, though set aside by modern
writers. Columella (v., 9) says that when an Olive-tree pro-
duces badly, a slip of a Wild-Olive is grafted on it, and this
gives new vigour to the tree. This passage suggests that
the tree was not thoroughly cut down, for the intention
is not to direct the growth entirely to the graft alone, but
to invigorate the whole tree by the introduction of the fresh
wild life. Columella does not say whether the engrafted
shoot was affected by the character of the root; but St.
Paul’s statement that it was so affected is confirmed by the
modern views as to the effect of grafting, viz, that the old
and the new parts are affected by one another. The fully
grown tree is presumably able to affect more thoroughly
the engrafted wild shoot, whereas in the first grafting the
young tree was thoroughly cut down, and the whole was
more affected by the character of the engrafted shoot, which
constitutes the whole tree. See p. 227 f.
A frequently quoted passage of Palladius, who, though he
wrote in verse about grafting, was also arecognised authority
on agriculture and horticulture, confirms Columella and St.
The Olive- Tree and the W ilcl- Olive 22 5

Paul that the Wild-Olive graft invigorated the tree on which
it was set, though he adds, apparently, that the wild graft
did not itself bear the olives which the rest of the tree bore:
this last statement is probably a rhetorical flourish, and he
means only that the Wild-Olive had never borne olives such
as it caused the reinvigorated tree to bear. The fruit of
the \Nild-Olive was poor and contained little oil; but the
oil which it produces is not bad in quality though poor in
quantity.
The comparison which St. Paul makes is sustained
through a series of details. The chosen people of God, the
Jews, are compared to the Olive-tree, which was for a long
time fertilised and productive. The cause of their growth
and productiveness, the sap which came up from the root
and gave life to the tree, was their faith. But this chosen
people ceased to be good and fertile; the people lacked
faith; the tree became dry, sapless and unproductive.
Surgical treatment was then necessary for the tree; the
more vigorous stock of the Wild-Olive must be grafted on
it, while the sapless and barren branches are cut off. In
the same way many of the chosen people have been cut
off because of their lack of faith; and in the vacant place
has been introduced a scion of the Gentiles, not cultivated
by ages of education, but possessing some of the vigour
of faith. The new stock makes the tree and the congrega-
tion once more fertile. But the new stock is helpless in
itself, unproductive and useless, a mere Wild-Olive; only in
its new position, grafted into the old stock, made a member
of the ancient congregation of God, is it good and fertile;
it depends on and is supported by the old root. Faith, or
the want of faith, determines the lot of all; if the Gentiles,
who have been introduced into the old congregation of God,
I5
226 [X

lose their faith, they too shall be cut off in their turn; as
every unproductive branch of the tree is rigorously eliminated
by the pruner. If the Jews recover their faith, and do not
continue in their unbelief, they shall be restored by being
regrafted on the tree. They are naturally of noble stock,
and the regular natural process of grafting the Olive with
noble stock shall be carried out afresh for them. They have
far greater right, for they are the chosen people, and the
noble scion is the ordinary graft; and if God can, con-
trary to the ordinary process, graft the Wild-Olive scion
into the Olive-tree in certain exceptional circumstances,
much more will He give a place in the congregation to
all true Israelites and graft the noble scion into the tree.
This complicated allegory, carried out in so great detail,
suits well and closely; and the spiritual process is made
more intelligible by it to the ancient readers, who knew the
processes of Olive-culture, and esteemed them as sacred and
divinely revealed. Here, as often in the Bible, the rever-
ence of the ancients for the divine life of the trees of the
field must be borne in mind in order1 to appreciate properly
the words of the Biblical writers. It is proverbially difficult
to make an allegory suit in every part; the restoration of
the amputated branches of the Olive cannot actually take
place; but here St. Paul invokes superhuman agency, for
God can regraft them on the stock, if they recover faith.
Does he mean to suggest that, while this is possible with
God, it is not likely to take place in practice, for the ejected
Jews show no more sign of recovering faith and so estab-
lishing a claim to restoration than the amputated branches
show of recovering vigour and deserving regrafting on the
1 On this subject I may be permitted to refer to The Letters to the Seven
Churches, 1904, p. 247,
T he OZz'r/e- T 766 and Me W z'ld- Olive 2 27

old stock? Just as the process does not occur in nature, so
the spiritual process is impossible except as a miracle of
God’s action. If we could press this suggestion, then the
allegory would suit with quite extraordinary completeness.
The reference to nature in xi. 24 is probably to be
understood as we have explained it in the preceding para-
graph. Commonly, the produce of grafting was spoken of
by the ancients as contrary to nature, and was compared
with the adoption of children by men, which also was con-
trasted with the natural process of generation. But here
the ordinary and invariable process of grafting with a noble
scion is called natural, while the unusual and exceptional
process of grafting with the VVild-Olive is said to be con-
trary to nature. The changed point of view is obviously
justified, and needs no further explanation.
I do not know certainly how far it is safe to press the
expression used by St. Paul, “some of the branches were cut
off ”. It is a well-known and familiar fact that every young
Clive-tree, when grafted with a shoot of the cultivated Olive,
is pruned and cut down so thoroughly that hardly anything
is left of it but one bare stem, on which the new scion is
grafted. Thus the entire energy of the young tree is directed
into the new graft. Does St. Paul imply that, in the pro-
cess of grafting at a later period of growth, when the tree
has become enfeebled, only some of the old branches were
cut away, while others were allowed to remain? Both
Columella and Palladius seem favourable to this interpreta-
tion. I should be glad to receive correction or additional
information on this point; and I mention it here chiefly in
the hope of eliciting criticism. What is the exact process,
when this exceptional kind of grafting takes place? How
far is the fruitless old tree cut down? Is the tree left still
228 [X

a tree with some branches, or is it cut down to a mere
stock P It is well established, according to Professor Fischer
p. 31, that every fifty years the Olive ought to be closely
pruned and thoroughly manured in order to give it fresh
vigour; and it is natural to suppose that the still more
drastic method of regrafting with Wild-Olive was connected
occasionally with this process of rejuvenating and reinvigor-
ating the worn-out tree, and that it would be accompanied
by a thorough pruning and cutting down, though this does
not imply a reduction of the tree to a single stem, as in the
first grafting of the young tree at the age of seven to ten
years.1
The idea in this regrafting evidently is that reinvigora-
tion will be best accomplished by mixture with a strange
and widely diverse stock ; and this idea has sound scientific
basis. It is not strange that the ancient rules of culture
implied the knowledge of such secret and obscure facts.
The account given in the present writer’s [nepi/essions of
Turkey, p. 273, of the rules for maintaining the highest
quality in the Angora goat (as observed in its original
home) may be compared here. It is necessary to recur
occasionally to the natural ground-stock, the original and
fundamental basis of the Olive; and though the existing
Wild-Olive is not exactly the fundamental and original
stock, it is as near it as the possibilities of the case permit,
and crossing with the Wild-Olive is the only way possible
now of replacing the weakened original elements in the
cultivated tree.
Most of the modern writers on this subject have been
betrayed by the assumption (which they almost all seem to
1 The nature of the Wild-Olive is discussed in Part II.
The Olive- Tree and the Wild-Olive 229

make 1) that in this passage of Romans St. Paul is speaking
of the ordinary process of grafting the young Olive-tree.
This grafting is a necessary and universal fact of Olive-
culture. An ungrafted tree will never produce really good
fruit, however noble be the stock from which it is derived.
The process is familiar; and yet it must be briefly described
in order to eliminate a certain error. The Olive is grown
from a shoot of a good tree, planted in well-prepared ground,
carefully tended and treated. When the young tree is seven
to ten years old, it is grafted with a shoot from the best
stock procurable. The Wild-Olive plays no part whatso-
ever in the life of the ordinary Olive-tree, which is of noble
stock and grafted anew from noble stock.
St. Paul was not referring to that process when he used
the words of xi. 17. He was quite aware of the character
of that process, and clearly refers to it in xi. 24, when that
verse is properly understood. But in xi. I7 he describes
a totally different and, as he clearly intimates, unusual
process, employed only in exceptional circumstances (as
Columella also implies), when the Wild-Olive was called in
to cure the inefficiency of the cultivated tree.
Two different kinds of unfavourable comment are made
on this passage. Some writers consider that St. Paul is
merely supposing a case, and does not intend to suggest
that this is a possible or actually used method of grafting;
this supposed case illustrates his argument, and he moulds
his language accordingly. Other writers consider that St.
Paul was wholly ignorant of the nature of the case; that
he had heard vaguely of the process of grafting, and fancied
that a wild shoot was grafted on a good tree; and they
1 Ewbank (quoted by Howson in Smith’s Dictionary of the Bible, ii., 622)
has taken so far the right view; but I have not access to his Commentary.
230 [X

rightly add that such ignorance would prove him to have
been wholly uninterested in the outer world.
The first view—that St. Paul merely takes this impossible
and unused method of grafting as an illustration of his argu-
ment, without implying that it was actually employed in
Olive-culture—has been widely held by British scholars. It
is stated very strongly and precisely in what may fairly be
styled the standard Commentary on Romans, by Professors
Sanday and Headlam, and we shall have their work chiefly
in mind in this connection.1
This view seems unsatisfactory. St. Paul is attempting
to describe a certain remarkable spiritual process, to make
it clear to his readers, to enable them to understand how it
was possible and how it was brought about. The spiritual
process was in itself, at first sight, improbable and difficult
to reconcile with the nature of God, who in it cuts off some
of the people that He had Himself chosen and puts in their
place strangers of a race which He had not chosen and
which therefore was inferior. This seemingly unnatural
process is, according to the view in question, commended to
the intelligence of the readers by comparing it with a non-
existent process in Olive-culture—“ one which would be
valueless and is never performed,” to use the clear and
pointed words of the two above-named authors. They say
that “the whole strength of St. Paul’s argument depends
on the process being an unnatural one; it is beside the
point, therefore, to quote passages from classical writers,
which even if they seem to support St. Paul’s language
1I hope that I shall not misrepresent their view. Owing to certain
widespread misapprehensions about Olive-culture (described in the sequel),
I have found some difficulty in catching their real meaning, in spite of the
apparent clearness and sharpness of their language.
T he Olive- Tree arm’ Z/ze W z'ld-Olz've 2 3 I

describe a process which can never be actually used. They
could only show the ignorance of others, they would not
justify him.”
It is, however, hard to see how a spiritual process, con-
fessedly contrary to nature and improbable, is made more
intelligible by comparing it with a process in external
nature, which is never employed, because it would be use-
less and even mischievous if it were employed. Other
writers have tried to make spiritual processes credible by
showing that similar processes occur in external nature.
St. Paul, according to this view, proves that the spiritual
process is credible, because it resembles a process impossible
in and contrary to external nature.
We cannot accept such a view—in spite of our respect
and admiration for the distinguished scholars who have
advocated it. Nor can we admit that they are justified in
setting aside the statement of a writer like Columella with
the offhand dictum that it “shows his ignorance”. Colu-
mella, in a formal treatise on horticulture (v., 9), describes
very fully the process, stage by stage. He describes it
as unusual and exceptional; and he describes in another
chapter (v., II) the usual and regular process of grafting.
The fact is that it is the modern commentators who have
misunderstood and misjudged. Columella, Palladius and
St. Paul agree and are right: and modern science has
justified them, as we shall see.
Rejecting this first view, and concluding that St. Paul
was here quoting what he believed to be an actual process
used in external nature in order to make intelligible a
spiritual process, we may for a moment glance at the other
view, that his belief was wholly wrong. Thus, for example,
Mr. Baring-Gould, in his Study of El‘. Paul, p. 275, finds
232 [X

in this passage of Romans the occasion for one of his con-
temptuous outbursts against the narrowness, dulness and
ignorance of the Apostle. “ Inspiration,” he says, “did not
prevent him from bungling in the matter of grafting of an
Olive-tree, and from producing a bad argument through
want of observing a very simple process in arboriculture.”
It would certainly be a very strong proof of blindness to
the character of external nature, if St. Paul had been mis-
taken in thinking that this process was used ; and it would
fully justify some strong inferences as to his character and
habit of mind. This point is one that deserves some notice.
Olive-culture may seem to the northern mind a remote and
unfamiliar subject, about which a philosopher might remain
ignorant. Even in the Mediterranean lands it is now very
far from being as important as it was in ancient times. It
was practically impossible for a thinker, at that time, if
brought up in the Greek or Syrian world, to be ignorant of
the salient facts about the nature of the Olive, and yet to be
abreast of the thought and knowledge of his time. So
important was the Olive to the ancient world, so impressive
and noteworthy were its nature and culture, so much of
life and thought and education was associated with it, that a
gross mistake about the subject would imply such a degree of
intellectual blindness as is quite inconsistent with the concep-
tion of St. Paul which the present writer believes to be right.
About three years after grafting the young tree begins
to bear fruit; but eight or nine years are required before it
produces plentifully. Thus Olive-trees require from fifteen
to nineteen years before they begin to repay the work and
expense that have been lavished on them. Such a slow
return will not begin to tempt men except in an age of
peace and complete security for property. The cultivation,
The Olive- Tree and the PVilcl—Olive 2 33

when once established, may last through a state of war and
uncertainty—if not too protracted or too barbarous in char-
acter—but it could not be introduced except in an age of
peace and security. The Olive was the latest and highest
gift of the Mother-Goddess to her people.
The Olive has therefore always been symbolical of an
orderly, peaceful, settled social system. The suppliants who
begged for peace, or sought to be purified from guilt and
restored to participation in society, according to Greek
custom (probably derived immediately from Asia Minor),1
carried in their hands an Olive-bough. On the other hand,
a district which was dependent for its prosperity on Olive-
cultivation suffered far more than others from the ravages of
war, when the war, as was not uncommon in a barbarous
age, was carried to the savage extreme of destroying the
fields and property of the raided or conquered country. At
the best the ruin was practically complete until the new
Olive-trees which were planted had time to grow to the
fully productive stage about seventeen years later. But, if
security was not felt, if people were afraid to risk their
labour and money in outlay which might be seized by others
long before it could begin to be remunerative, the ruin was
permanent, and the country sank to a lower economic and
social stage; it was impoverished, and could only support
a much more scanty population. As an example of the
effect of the Olive-cultivation on the density of population
Professor F ischer2 mentions that in the arrondissement
Grasse in the south of France, one-third of the land, in
which Olives were produced, contained in 1880 a population
1 See an article on the “ Religion of Asia Minor ” in Hastings’ Dictionary
of the Bible, v., p. 127.
2 In his already quoted treatise Der Oelbamn, p. 2.
234 [X

of 60,000, while the other two-thirds, where no Olives grew,
supported only 10,000 people. The importance of this pro—
duction becomes more evident when one remembers that
the Olive grows excellently on hill-slopes, where the soil is
thin and scanty and otherwise of little value; while the
rich soil of well-watered plains produces fruit large in size,
but poor in oil. Abundant air, light and sunshine are
necessary, and these can be best obtained on sloping ground,
while artificial enriching of the soil supplies all the needed
nourishment to the tree.
Several passages in the Bible refer to the uncertainty of
possession in Olive-trees that results from war. The
Israelites were promised the ownership of Olive-trees in
Palestine which they had not planted (Joshua xxiv. 13,
Deuteronomy vi. 11). Such is the invariable anticipation
of the tribes from the desert, which from time immemorial
have been pressing in towards the rich lands of Syria,
eager to seize and enjoy the fruits of the cultivated ground
which others have prepared. The anticipation can be best
realised if the conquest is quick and sudden. In case of a
long resistance and a tedious evenly balanced contest, the
land is injured more and the fruit-trees are cut down; the
inhabitants of a besieged city may cut down the fruit-trees
to prevent the enemy from sheltering behind them in their
attack, or the besiegers may cut them to make engines and
other means of attack (as the Crusaders did at Jerusalem in
1099). Invaders who were repulsed, or were not strong
enough to hope for permanent possession of the land, were
the worst of all in ancient warfare. They commonly burnt,
ravaged and destroyed from mere wanton desire to do as
much harm as possible to the country and the enemy who
possessed it.
T lze Olive- Tree and Me W rid-Olive 2 3 5

As the cultivation of the Olive requires so much pru-
dence, foresight and self-denial in the present for the sake of
gain in the distant future, it belongs to a higher order of
civilisation, and in modern times it has almost entirely ceased
in many Mohammedan countries, and where it persists in
them it is practised, sozfar at least as the present writer’s
experience extends, almost solely by Christians. In part
this is due to the savage nature of the Mohammedan wars ;
but that is not the whole reason. The Olives were not
wholly cut down at the conquest, for it was too rapid and
easy, but they suffered terribly in the Crusaders’ wars;
though even so close to jerusalem as the Garden of Geth-
semane there are still some trees which, according to com-
mon belief, pay only the tax levied on Olives that existed
before the Moslem conquest, and not the higher tax levied
on those which were planted after the conquest.
But Mohammedanism is not favourable to the quality of
far-sighted prudence needed in Olive-culture: the Moham-
medan tends to the opinion that man ought not to look
fifteen or nineteen years ahead, but should live in the
present year and leave the future to God. Where this
quality of prudence fails, Olive-culture must degenerate,
since the outlook to a distant future, which is needed at
every stage, becomes neglected more and more as time
passes.
The cultivation of the Olive therefore has practically
ceased wherever a purely Mohammedan population possesses
the land. This arises not from any inherent necessity of
Mohammedanism, but from the character which that
religion gradually wrought out for itself in its historical
development. No Mohammedan people, except perhaps
the Moors in Spain, has ever constructed a sufficiently
236 [X

stable and orderly government to give its subjects confid-
ence that they will retain their possession long enough to
make it worth while to cultivate the Olive. As confidence
grows less, the outlook over the future is narrowed, the
Olive is more and more neglected, and the spirit of fatalism
grows stronger.
Similarly, even in Corfu, it is said, the culture has much
degenerated, owing to the people becoming idle, careless
and improvident. At Athens the Olives of the famous
groves are now oversupplied with water, and the fruit has
become large and oil-less: whereas in ancient times that
grove produced finer and more abundant oil than any other
trees.
In short, the Olive is a tree that is associated with a
high order of thought and a high standard of conduct. It
demands these; it fosters them; and it degenerates or
ceases where the population loses them. In the beginning
the collective experience and wisdom of a people living for
generations in a state of comparative peace 1 formulated the
rules of cultivation, and impressed them as a religious duty
on succeeding generations.
So important for the welfare of ancient states was the
proper cultivation of the Olive, that the rules were pre-
scribed and enforced as a religious duty; and, as gradually
in Greece written law was introduced in many departments,
where previously the unwritten but even more binding
religious prescription had alone existed to regulate human
action, so in respect of the Olive law began in the time
of Solon to publish and enforce some of the rules to be
observed. The Olive-tree requires a certain open space
around it to admit freely the air and light which are indis-
1 Hastings’ Dictionary, v., p. I33.
The Olive- Tree ana’ the W ilcl-Olive 2 37

pensable for its growth, and in Solon’s time the principle
was that there must be a space of at least eighteen feet
between two trees.1 The wood of the Olive was extremely
valuable, and there was a danger that short-sighted selfish-
ness might cut down trees for immediate profit regardless
of the loss in the future; therefore an old law in Attica
forbade any owner to cut down more than two Olive-trees
in a year.
Dr. Post and others have well described the usefulness
of the Olive in modern life in Mediterranean lands. Study
of the inscriptions and authors shows that its usefulness to
the ancients was far more highly esteemed, just as it was far
more abundantly and widely cultivated. It was regarded as
being more than useful ; it was necessary for the life of man,
as life was understood by the ancients.
Such was the lofty conception which the ancients, es-
pecially the Greeks, entertained of the sacred character of
the Olive; and a modern writer might be justified, if he
tried to describe in more eloquent terms than mine the im-
portance of the tree. St. Paul might well go to the Olive-
tree for explanation and corroboration of his argument; but
the effect of his illustration would depend with his ancient
readers entirely on the correctness of his facts. They
respected and venerated the tree: to make an absurd sug-
gestion or display an erroneous belief about the culture of
the tree would only offend the ancient mind. We, who have
to go to books in order to find out the elementary facts
about the Olive, and who regard the whole subject as a
1Plutarch, Solon, 23. The distance is inferred from the form of the
order; a man must not plant a fig or Olive within nine feet of his neighbour’s
boundary. Professor Fischer, p. 30, has incorrectly apprehended the rule;
he says that Solon ordained that Olives must be nine feet distant from one
another, which would be far too close.
238 [X

matter of curiosity, will naturally be lenient on a writer
who errs where we feel that we should ourselves be prone
to make errors; but the ancients did not judge like us in
this case. This is one of the many cases where ancient
feeling and modern are widely separated; and St. Paul
must be judged by the requirements of his time. I almost
cease to wonder that Mr. Baring-Gould became so severe a
critic of St. Paul’s character and intellect, after he had per-
suaded himself that the great Apostle had made such a
blunder in such a matter, for Mr. Baring-Gould is a man
who has observed and judged frankly for himself.
If the process of grafting with the Wild-Olive shoot was
a known one in ancient Olive-culture, the question may be
asked how it happens that Origen was ignorant of it, since
he asserts positively that St. Paul in this passage is putting
a case which never actually occurs.1
In the first place, it is evident from the nature of the
case that this kind of grafting was not very frequent: only
in exceptional cases was a tree in such circumstances as to
need this surgical treatment. It might therefore quite well
happen that Origen might know about the ordinary process
of grafting and yet be ignorant of the extraordinary process,
so that he declares as emphatically as most modern writers
except Professor Fischer, that there was no grafting with
Wild-Olive but only with the cultivated Olive.
In the second place, Origen lived in Egypt, and this
explains his ignorance. The Wild-Olive was and is unknown
in Egypt.2 It does not grow in the country naturally; and,
of course, only the cultivated Olive would be introduced
artificially. Origen, therefore, could never have seen the
1 The passage is quoted in the edition of Professors Sanday and Headlam.
2Fischer, p. 10.
The Olive-Tree and the Wild-Olive 239

process in Egypt, where Olive-culture must have made
shift without this surgical treatment. Similarly, the modern
scholars, who assert so positively that there is only one kind
of grafting, are all ignorant of the practical facts, because
they belong to lands where Olive-culture is not practised,
and they speak all from theory, or as the result of questions
which they have put to Olive_growers during their travels.
Now, it is very easy for misunderstanding to arise on this
subject: the practical growers even in Palestine assured
Mr. W. M. Thomson I frequently that all grafting was done
with cultivated shoots, because they were speaking of the
regular grafting: the extraordinary process for surgical
reasons was not in their mind at the time. Moreover, those
men are always extremely unwilling to reveal the secret and
exceptional processes of their occupation. An example of
this unwillingness, connected with the breeding of the mohair
goat, is described in the present writer’s Impressions of
Tar/Bey, p. 272.
In the third place Origen evidently was entirely ignor-
ant of Olive~culture as it was conducted in Egypt, and knew
it only from literature, not from observation. He says that
the cultivators grafted the cultivated Olive on the Wild, and
not vice versri. But, as we have seen, the Wild-Olive is
unknown in Egypt; and the Olive there, both root and
graft, was the cultivated Olive.
Finally, as the most important reason of all, St. Paul
introduced the illustration from the spontaneous fountain
of his own knowledge; he selected a good illustration where
he found it. But Origen is here the commentator toiling
after his author and forced to go where the author leads
him, Whether or not his own experience and knowledge are
1 The Land and the Book, p. 53.
240 [X

competent. In such circumstances the author’s knowledge
and statement must be reckoned higher than the commen-
tator’s, even if they were both equally unconfirmed from
external sources.
It may also be added here that, not merely is the culti-
vation of the Olive now carried out on a very much smaller
scale than in ancient times, having entirely perished in many
districts and entire countries where formerly it was practised
on a vast scale; it is also, in all probability, done now in
many districts (though certainly not in all) after a less
scientific fashion and with less knowledge of the possible
treatment of weak and exceptional cases than in ancient
times.
The method of invigorating a decadent Olive-tree, de-
scribed above as practised in Palestine, is, I believe, not
employed now in Asia Minor. I have consulted several
persons of experience, and they were all agreed that this
process is unknown in the country. But this forms no proof
that the method was unknown there in ancient times. The
culture has entirely ceased in many districts, and where it
remains the methods are, as I believe, degenerated in several
respects (as in many other departments of the treatment of
nature for the use of man) from the ancient standard.
II
The slight account given in the first part of this paper of
the importance of the Olive-tree in the economy of an Olive-
growing country brings into clear relief the meaning of many
passages in the Bible. Only one of these will be touched
on here. When in Revelations vi. 5 f. the rider on the black
horse, who symbolises famine resulting from invasion, goes
forth, scarcity is announced with dearness of wheat and
PLATE X.

Flo. 16.~Falls of the Cydnus on the North side of Tarsus
(Mrs. W. M. Ramsay).
Toface j). 240. See p. 279.
The Olive- Tree and the Wild-Olive 241

barley, but the oil and the wine are not to be injured. The
7 standing crops shall be wasted by the Parthian invaders,
but the fruit-trees shall not suffer. The raid shall be a
passing one, and shall not do permanent and lasting destruc-
tion. The land shall be able to recover with the coming
of the next summer harvest, according to the facts stated
above, p. 234.
In view of modern opinion it is advisable before con~
cluding to say a word about the Wild-Olive. So far as
ancient literature is concerned there is no special need of
much explanation. The ancients clearly distinguish be-
tween two trees—the cultivated Olive-tree, and another
which is always regarded as different in kind, called hez‘z'hos
in Greek and eleasz‘er in Latin, terms which are ordinarily
and (as I believe) rightly rendered Wild-Olive by modern
students of ancient literature. As was pointed out in the
first part of this article, p. 221, these are mentioned separately
in lists of different trees; they were regarded as different
and distinct in kind; and they were sacred to different
deities. Zeus was the god to whom the Wild-Olive was
sacred ; but Pallas Athenaia presided over the cultivation of
the Olive, she produced the tree from the ground, and the
Olive-garland was the symbol of her worship. In the follow-
ing remarks the term Wild-Olive is used to designate the
tree which was called by the ancients mo'rwos and oleasz‘er.
The ordinary unscientific, yet not unobservant, traveller,1 or
the ordinary inhabitant of the Olive-growing districts of
Asia Minor, would have no doubt as to what tree is meant
by these terms: he is familiar with both: they are both ex-
lThroughout these articles I have been indebted to the observant eyes
and retentive memory of my wife for such facts, though she must not be
held responsible for any mistakes I may make.
16
242 [X
tremely common, yet different in appearance and character.
He cannot doubt that these two trees would both be fre-
quently mentioned by the ancients, and would be regarded
by them as separate and distinct kind of trees.
The case of the Wild-Olive is totally different from
that of the Wild-Fig : this is a false name, a mere expres—
sion of ignorance, denoting the male Fig-tree (called e’pfveoq
by the Greeks, and calorificns by the Latins). The Wild-
Fig tree, or Male Fig, is in appearance exactly like the
F ig-tree, so far as the ordinary person can detect. It very
often grows in walls or stony places. The fruit is smaller,
and drops off about two months before the edible figs ripen.
This fruit is full of dust and flies; the flies carry the dust
to fertilise the edible figs. I have been told in Asiatic
Turkey that unless fertilised by this dust or pollen the figs
do not ripen; but I believe that this is not strictly correct.
The pollen quickens the growth and improves the fig;
but is not absolutely necessary. The statements made by
some modern writers that ripe figs can be found on the
trees for many months 1—-statements which so far as I know
are quite incorrect—perhaps originate from a confusion be-
tween the two kinds of fig.
It is different when one comes to investigate modern
opinion on the subject. Then one is involved in endless
1 Canon Tristram says that in the hot and low lands beside the Dead
Sea the figs are ripe during most part of the year. Even if this be so it
does not affect the case of the barren Fig-tree mentioned in Matthew xxi.,
Mark xi., which was nearly 4,000 feet above the Dead Sea, where no person
could dream of finding fruit at Easter. That incident is one of the most
difficult in the New Testament; and nothing that has been written about
it seems of any value; but I am not prepared to offer any opinion. I do not
see the way open to any explanation of the difficulty, whether in the way of
moral teaching or of erroneous popular mythology affecting in this case the
Gospels. The passage is to me utterly obscure.
The Olive- Tree ana’ the Wild-Olive 243

difficulties and differences of opinion, amid which it is
extremely hard to pick and choose.
There is a great deal of misapprehension about the
relation between the Olive and the Wild-Olive. As a
general rule recent writers in English seem to have missed
the truth owing to the erroneous idea that a much closer
similarity exists between these two trees than is really the
case. It would almost seem as if many of them thought
that the Wild-Olive is simply an ordinary Olive-tree in its
natural state before it is grafted, and that it is made into a
true Olive by the process of grafting. That is erroneous,
as Mr. W. M. Thomson recognises, in the book which we
have often quoted with admiration above. So much I
think it is quite safe to say, though I may not be able to
state the facts as I have seen them without falling into
mistakes due to unscientific habits of mind and the in-
evitable inaccuracy of the mere untrained observer.
The Wild-Olive is a distinct kind of tree, which even
the superficial observer would not mistake for the true
Olive. It bears small fruit, which produces little oil; 1 it
has ovate leaves of a greener colour than the grey Olive-
tree, while the leaves of the Olive are more pointed and
lancet—shaped; the bark of the Wild-Olive is smoother,
and the twigs are thorny and more square in section,
whereas the Olive has no thorns and the twigs are round.
The Wild-Olive is usually only a bush, which grows very
widely in all those parts of the Mediterranean world that
I am acquainted with (except Egypt). Where it has room
and good soil, however, it grows to be a considerable tree,
as is mentioned below; and its wood is tough, hard, and
useful.
1 The oil, though small in quantity, is perfectly good.
244 [X

The Wild—Olive grows in many regions where the culti-
vated Olive is now entirely unknown ; and it grows abund-
antly in regions which are so high and inclement that,
according to modern statements, the cultivated Olive could
never have flourished in them. The modern opinion which
I have heard is that the Olive requires a temperate and even
warm climate; and, as far as the facts of the present day
go, it never grows on the high central plateau of Asia Minor.
But this modern opinion seems to be unjustifiable. The
failure of the Olive on the plateau is only an example of
the general fact that the tree is never cultivated where a
purely Mohammedan population possesses the soil. Strabo
mentions that the mountain valley in front of the Phrygian
city of Synnada was planted with Olive-trees. Now this
plain lies very high, and lofty mountains surround it.
It must be one of the most inclement districts in central
Anatolia, and is not much below 4,000 feet above sea-level.
Formerly, misled by the modern idea, I proposed to alter
the text of Strabo’s account of Synnada, supposing that the
original epithet c’tmrekégbvrov had been corrupted by losing
the first three letters into e’keéqbvrov for ékaco'rpvrroo; but
now I follow Strabo, and understand that, where the \I’Vild-
Olive grows, the Olive can be cultivated.
The hotinos is never mentioned by Homer; and, con-
sidering the importance in Greece of the tree alike in religion
and in wide diffusion, this is strange. It is, however, prob-
able that in some cases, where he speaks of the Olive-tree
e’kar’a, he means the Wild-Olive, Icd'rwos; and Professor
Fischer seems to hold this opinion (unless he has made a
mere slip, for he says that the marriage-bed which Ulysses
constructed in his palace was made in the stem of a Wild-
Olive, but Homer uses the name e’kata for that large tree
The Olive- Tree and Zhe Wild-Olive 245

(Odyssey, xxiii, 190 ff.). The description given in that
passage certainly suggests Wild-Olive rather than Olive.
The ancients were quite familiar, as might be expected,
with the difference between the hez‘z'has and the cultivated
Olive; for Theophrastus, in his Hz'sz‘ory of Plahz‘s, II., 3,
states the principle that the helium‘ can never develop into
a true Olive-tree. This seems to imply that the ancients
did not graft the true Olive shoot on the hoz‘z'hes, though
the modern cultivators in France and Spain, as well as in
Greece and the islands of the ZEgean Sea, often do so: yet
Origen says that the process was common in his time, but
(as we saw) Origen is probably speaking not from personal
knowledge.
The relation of the true Olive to the Wild-Olive is very
far from certain; the most diverse and very contradictory
opinions are stated, sometimes with diffidence, sometimes
with unhesitating confidence, by different modern author-
ities ; and it is extremely difficult to know what to believe.
While the appearance of the two kinds of tree is very dif-
ferent, yet the fact is indubitable that a Wild-Olive stock,
grafted with a shoot from a cultivated Olive, produces a
good and productive true Olive-tree. The two species
are certainly very close to one another; and it is quite
possible that to the scientific mind they may be much more
nearly akin than they seem to the ordinary unscientific
observer.
The young Olive-tree is, in course, selected from a good
stock, and is a true Olive from the beginning. It is, how-
ever, the case that the true Olive can be obtained by graft-
ing a noble scion on a Wild—Olive, and this process has been
frequently employed in modern time in the Mediterranean,
where groves of Wild-Olive have thus been utilised on a
246 [X

large scale. But, where cultivation is long settled and Olives
are planted and tended from the beginning, the young stock
is noble ; and this beyond all doubt was the regular ancient
practice.
This leads up to a misapprehension, into which Canon
Tristram has fallen in his [Vain-Val Hisz‘oi/y of i/ie Bib/e,
p. 3 77, and which has been commonly repeated on his author-
ity by English writers subsequently (cg, by Messrs. Sanday
and Headlam in their commentary). Canon Tristram
asserts that there are three different kinds of Olive : (I) the
ungrafted tree, which is the natural or Wild-Olive, cirypcéhacos‘;
(2) the grafted tree, the cultivated tree, ékaia; (3) the
oleaster, “ a plant of a different natural order” (Sanday and
Headlam), which “has no relationship to the Olive” (Tris-
tram), yielding inferior oil, bearing long, narrow, bluish
leaves, via, the bush or small tree called Eleagnns angnsz‘i-
folia.
There is just sufficient resemblance to the truth in this
account to make it peculiarly dangerous. The ungrafted
Olive is, of course, different from the grafted tree; and it
would in its natural ungrafted condition produce inferior
fruit, containing little oil. That is the almost universal
rule among cultivated fruit-trees: they must be grafted to
produce well.1 But this natural ungrafted Olive-tree is not
arypcékacos, and is not the tree which St. Paul here has in
mind.
Canon Tristram does not mention the Greek name for
the shrub which he identifies with his oleaster. He could
hardly avoid the view that the Greek Zeoz‘inos is the Latin
oleasz‘er; but if he stated that, he would be face to face
1 The fig-tree is one of the few exceptions. It may be grafted, but grows
quite well from shoots alone.
The Olive- Tree anaI the Wild-Olive 247

with a serious difficulty. Many Greek authorities 1 say that
nércvoq and arypce'kacoq denote the same tree, and most add
that Icd'rcvoc is the name used in the Attic dialect. There
can be no doubt that this tree is the Wild-Olive, oleaster in
Latin ; and the Latin version of Origen states that this was
the ground—stock on which the true Olive was grafted (an
erroneous statement as regards Egypt, but correct in regard
to some places).
It is, as Fischer says, still a matter of dispute among
botanists whether the cultivated Olive and the Wild-Olive
(Oleaster) are entirely distinct species, or whether the Wild-
Olive is only the original and natural tree out of which the
Olive has been gradually developed by generations of culti-
vation: or, thirdly, whether the Vv’ild-Olive is the form into
which any ordinary specimen of cultivated Olive degenerates
when it is left neglected for a long time.
Professor Fischer (p. 4 f.), who takes no notice of the
second alternative, but only discusses the question between
the first and third alternatives, inclines to the view that
Olive and Oleaster are distinct species, though he admits
that the grafting of the true Olive on the Oleaster produces
a perfectly good productive Olive-tree. Though I have no
claim to be a scientific observer, yet one argument, which
Professor Fischer does not notice, seems to me conclusive
against his view. This argument was stated to me by the
late Mr. George Dennis, author of that excellent book Cities
ana7 Cemeteries of Etrnria, whom I had the advantage of
knowing well about 1880 to I882, when he was H.B.M.
Consul in Smyrna. Mr. Dennis was an extremely accurate
observer, and his great book derives its value from its trust-
1 Suidas, I—Iesychius, Etym., Dioscorides, i., 136, Pollux, i., 24.1, Schol.
Theocr., v., 32, etc.
248 [X

worthiness and accuracy, not from learned theories or in-
genious combinations. Moreover, he was familiar for many
years with Spain, Italy and Sicily; and he had travelled
widely in the Greek world. He said that in the neighbour-
hood of Cyrene, where he had travelled and excavated, the cul-
tivated Olive no longer exists, but the Wild-Olive abounds ;
and since Cyrene was once rich in Olives, he inferred that
the Olive, when left uncared for during many centuries, went
back to its original and natural condition as a Wild-Olive.
If this observation is correct, it seems to demonstrate
that, when the cultivated Olive is left uncared for during a
series of generations, it gradually relapses into a form which
is closely similar to the Wild-Olive or Oleaster (though I
am assured that probably a scientific observer would find
differences, proving that the line of descent had been modi-
fied by generations of cultivation) ; and the easy explanation
of this appears to be that the Wild-Olive or Icdrcvos is very
closely akin to the original natural tree out of which the
cultivated Olive was developed by generations of care.
On the other hand Professor Fischer (p. 5) quotes Von
Heldreich, who in a letter written from Athens in 1882
declares that the Olive in countries like Barka (the district
of Cyrene), where it has been uncultivated for so many cen-
turies, does not degenerate into a Wild-Olive, but remains
a true Olive, though becoming poorer and less productive.
This statement does not seem to rest on observation, but on
theory. It cannot be denied that the Wild-Olive is abund-
ant all over the Cyrenaica; and Professor Fischer’s account
of the Cyrenaica, p. 69, is hardly consistent with Von Hel-
dreich’s words, though he does indeed quote some allusion
to true Olives still surviving in small numbers there.
The facts are that (I) the Wild-Olive, when properly
T he Olive- Tree and the Wild-Olive 249

grafted with the nobler shoot, gives rise to the true Olive
(though of course when ungrafted it can, as Theophrastus
says, never become a true Olive): see examples in Fischer,
p. 5. (2) The cultivation of the Olive, which originated in
Western Asia several thousand years ago, has produced a
well-marked difference in the tree. (3) The Olive, if ne-
glected, would naturally revert to the primitive type in the
course of centuries, though not completely so, for it would
still retain distinguishable traces of the cultivated tree; and
thus both Mr. Dennis and Von Heldreich may be correct
in their statements about the Cyrenaica, from different
points of view. (4) A shoot of the finest cultivated Olive,
if planted, will not grow into a good and productive Olive
unless it is grafted iust like a VJild-Olive. Ti e essential
and indispensable fact is everywhere and in all cases the
grafting of the young tree. (5) The ordinary practice in
the Levant regions is to plant shoots of the cultivated Olive,
and not to graft the Wild-Olive.
The conclusion is unavoidable that the Wild-Olive or
Oleaster is the tree here referred to by St. Paul and con-
trasted with the true Olive, which is essentially a cultivated
tree. It may indeed be conceded to Canon Tristram that
the ungrafted young tree, even if grown from a noble shoot,
may probably have been sometimes loosely called by the
Greeks d/YPLEIXCZLOQ‘ because it had not yet been ennobled;1
but this furnishes no proof that such was the regular and
ordinary use of that word.
The opinion of Canon Tristram that the drypiékaroq is
1 Theophrastus seems to use b’vypios e’Aai’a in this way. Pausanias, ii., 32,
IO, seems to distinguish three classes of Wild-Olive, Kd'rwos, ¢v)u'a and
é'ypte’itams; but the best authority on technical matters, Blumner, refuses to
pronounce any opinion on the passage. Presumably, the second term was
used by Pausanias to indicate the ungrafted tree.
2 50 [X

totally distinct from the oleaster of the ancients has been
Widely adopted by English writers; but there seems to be
no authority for it. Several passages in Latin (for example,
Virgil, Georgia, ii., 182) seem to demonstrate that the
Oleaster was the koi‘inos or ordinary Wild-Olive; and in
Hastings’ Dictionary of i/ze Bible, art. “Oil-Tree,” an argu~
ment is advanced about the corresponding tree in Hebrew,
which seems to dispose entirely of the proposed identification
with Eleagnns angnsz‘ifoiia, which is a mere bush and not a
real tree. Dr. Post says (iii., 591), “The oleaster [which he
assumes to be the Eleagnas] never grows large enough to
furnish such a block of wood as was required for the image
[ten cubits high, to be placed in the Holy of Holies]. It is
also never used for house carpentry.” These statements are
doubtless quite true in the modern state of the country: Dr.
Post is a thoroughly satisfactory authority for what comes
in the range of his experience in the present time. But the
Oleaster or Wild-Olive (Greek no'rwoq c’uypcékacoc) was far
more widely used and more useful in ancient times. It grew
sometimes then, and grows sometimes still, to be a stately
tree,though generally it is only a bush ten to fourteen feet high.
Professor Theobald Fischer, one of the leading authorities of
the day, mentions that it grows in suitable circumstances to
a height of fifty to seventy feet and forms large forests.
In this difficult subject, in regard to which I find hardly
any statement made by any authority which is not flatly
contradicted by some other equally great authority, I can-
not hope to have avoided error. I have no botanical train-
ing; and when I was in Asia Minor I had never any
occasion to pay attention to Olive cultivation, but merely
picked up by chance some information. I shall be grateful
for correction and criticism.
V
A
QUESTIONS
PLATE Xl.

v . . ,
51v , '
. -v _- .
_ s’ I. -. ~- I‘.
' o ‘ o
g ‘ ‘I 0‘
a - . .\ h
_-t " '~‘ a ‘-a ;.2.\J-‘r<..._ — a - ,1
FIG. I7.—American Missionary on the Roman Road (Mrs. Christie of Tarsus).
Toface 252. See 280.
X
QUESTIONS
AT the urgent request of the Editor, I began to string
together a few suggestions, or rather questions, about the
interpretation of passages in the New Testament, which
have been scattered over many publications; and, further,
at his special wish, some disconnected impressions of some
of our great scholars, now passed away, are interwoven, just
as they rose to my mind and slipped to the tip of the pen.
I. The riches hid below the surface of the earth belonged
to the Emperor. All quarries were managed and worked
by his own private officers for his private purse. Every
block that was quarried was inspected by the proper officer,
and marked by him as approved.1 Our knowledge of the
subject has been for the most part derived from blocks
actually found in Rome, and which, therefore, were choice
blocks sent to the capital. But at the Phrygian marble
quarries there have been found many blocks, which had
been cut, but not sent on to Rome. These are never
marked as approved; and some of them bear the letters
REPR, i.e., reprolratarn, “rejected”. These were considered
as imperfect and unworthy pieces, and rejected by the
inspector.
This explanation of the letters REPR, which passes
under my name, was published in the Me‘langes cl’Arc/ze-
1Pr0bante.
(253)
254 X

ologie et d’Histoire of the French School of Rome, 1882 ; but
I am glad to take the opportunity of giving the credit where
it is due. It was suggested by that excellent scholar, the
late Father Bruzza; but, as the proof-sheets of my paper
passed through his hands, he did not allow the acknowledg-
ment to stand in print. It was he who perceived that this
custom of testing, and sometimes rejecting, blocks for build-
ing purposes was connected with the words of First Peter,
“ the stone which the builders rejected,” ii. 7.
These words (derived from Psalm cxviii. and applied to
himself by Christ, [Matthew xxi. 42) are quoted by Peter in
his speech to the Sanhedrin, Acts iv. 11. But in Acts he
uses the verb e’ig'ovdeve’w, “to despise and regard as value-
less,” while in the Epistle he uses the verb c’modorcc/ccilfw,
“ to test and reject”. It is an interesting point that the
former is the more accurate translation of the Hebrew word,
while the latter is the word used in the Septuagint.1 Why
should Peter sometimes use the one word and sometimes
the other? The view is, apparently, held by some that
Luke is here translating from a Hebrew authority, and that
he is responsible for the rendering. But Luke can hardly
have been ignorant of the Septuagint rendering; and it is
improbable that on his own authority he should have
selected a different word. On the view which I have main-
tained of Luke’s character as an historian, I feel bound to
think that he used the verb because Peter used it; and,
therefore, Peter addressed the Sanhedrin in Greek. But
further, Peter must have been thinking of the Hebrew text
of Psalms, and have rendered the Hebrew word direct into
Greek.
May we not infer that the change of verb in the Epistle
1 See Hort’s notes on 1 Pet. ii. 4 and 7.
Quesz‘z'o'hs 2 55

corresponds to a change that occurred in Peter’s mind and
circumstances in the interval between Aels iv. II and I
Pez‘er ii. 7? He had become more Graecised ; he now used
the Greek Bible in place of the Hebrew (or at least in ad-
dition to it), and he recognised that the verb tivrodo/crludé'w,
“to reject after actual trial,” though not a strictly accurate
rendering of the Hebrew word, corresponded better to the
actual customs known to those whom he addressed.
Further, may this progress towards Greek and Western
ways and speech be taken as a proof that Peter moved
westwards in the direction of Rome, and did not go away
to the East and direct his work to the city of Babylon?
Had that been the course of his life, there could have been
no such progress as is evinced in this little detail and in
many more important ways.
It is satisfactory to see that Dr. Hort decisively rejected
that most perverse of ideas—that this Epistle was written
from the city of Babylon. They who hold such a view,
however great they may be as purely verbal scholars, stamp
themselves as untrustworthy judges in all matters that refer
to the life and society of the Empire. The jew who wrote
this Epistle must have lived long amid the society of the
Empire ; and he could never have acquired such a tone and
cast of thought, if he had spent his life mainly in Palestine
and Mesopotamia.
I I. The variation in the power and success of missions
in different countries is obvious to the most casual observer.
Missionary work does not radiate steadily forth from a
centre. It moves along the lines of least resistance, and its
course is determined by many conditions, which the his-
torian must study and try to understand, while the men who
are actually engaged in the work obey them, or are com-
256 X

pelled by them, often without being fully conscious of
them.
Now, let us apply this to the book of Acts. One of the
most striking features in the book is the apparently re-
stricted view that is taken of the spread of Christianity.
We read of the way in which it was carried north to Antioch,
and then north-west and west to the South Galatian cities,
to Macedonia and Achaia, to Asia and to Rome; and when
we have crossed the limits of the land of Rome, and approach
the city,1 the brethren come forth many miles to welcome
us, and convoy us into the midst of an already existing
Church in Rome. The news has reached the heart of the
Empire long ago.
There is no reasonable possibility of doubting that
Christian missionaries went in other directions and by many
other paths than those described in Acts. We can trace the
activity of nameless missionaries in many places, e.g., in Aces
xi. 19, in Acz‘s xxviii. I 5. Among them we must class the
judaising missionaries who troubled Paul, in South Galatia, in
Rome, and probably everywhere. These unknown workers
doubtless tried literally to “go forth into all the world ”.
The question is whether we are to class the silence of
Luke about almost all this mass of active work among the
“gaps,” which so much trouble many scholars, or whether
we should not rather look to discover some reason for his
silence? It is plain that, in Luke’s estimation, all the other
missionaries sink into insignificance in comparison with the
one great figure of Paul. They become important in pro-
portion as they agree with his methods, and are guided
1 057103 625‘ 'rv‘jzl ‘Poi/any fjAGoz/aez/ Acts xxviii. I4, and eirriqitdaneu eis ‘Pair/.7111
xxviii. 16. On the distinction between these two phrases, which with singular
blindness the commentators still persist in regarding as exactly equivalent,
see St. Paul the Traveller, p. 347.
Questions 2 57

by his spirit. When they differ from him, they become
secondary figures, and disappear from Luke’s pages.
\Vas Luke’s vision restricted in this way merely because
he was dazzled by the brilliancy of Paul? Or may he have
had some better ground to stand on? One may speculate
on these alternatives in an abstract way ; but the more pro-
fitable method is to seek for some concrete facts on which
to found an hypothesis. Some facts bearing on the subject
are, I think, furnished by the distribution of second and
third century Christian inscriptions in Central Asia Minor.
Elsewhere it is pointed out that these inscriptions fall into
three groups, clearly marked off from one another both by
geographical separation and by style and character, pointing
to “three separate lines of Christian influence in Phrygia
during the early centuries ”.1 . . . “It seems beyond ques-
tion that the first line of influence spread from the rzEgean
coastlands, and that its ultimate source was in St. Paul’s
work in Ephesus, and in the efforts of his coadjutors during
the following years; while the second originated in the
earlier Pauline Churches of Derbe, Lystra, Iconium and
Antioch.” The third belongs to the northwest of Phrygia,
and, by a remarkable coincidence, to the country which
Paul traversed between Pisidian Antioch and Troas (Acts
xvi. 6-8).
We possess only one document long enough to show
anything of the spirit of these early Churches, the epitaph
which a second-century presbyter or bishop2 wrote “to be
an imperishable record of his testimony and message which
he had to deliver to mankind”; and it mentions (besides
1 Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia, pt. ii., p. 511.
20p. cit., p. 722 ff., where the voluminous literature about Avircius
Marcellus is described.
I7
258 X

the main truths of his religion) the ever-present companion~
ship and guidance of Paul. It has survived to bear witness
that the Churches of Central Asia Minor continued to look
to Paul as their pattern and their guide more than a century
after his death.
Must we not take these facts as a sign that, so far as
Asia Minor is concerned, Luke perceived the truth? It was
the influence of Paul’s spirit, acting directly or through his
followers and pupils, that was the really powerful force in
the country. Everything else becomes insignificant in com-
parison. So Luke thought: and so the facts bear witness.
Further, may this not have been the case elsewhere?
Perhaps Luke perceived the essential facts, and recorded
them. Perhaps it was only in the Roman world that men’s
minds were ready for the new religion. If that religion
came “in the fulness of time,” was not that “fulness of
time” wrought out by the unifying influence of Roman
organisation, and by the educating influence of Greek philo-
sophical theory, so that it was only within the circle of these
influences that the Church grew? May it not be the case
that the pre~Pauline Church in Rome was recreated by
Paul, and acquired its future form and character from him ;
and that thus the historian is justified in leaving its earlier
existence unmentioned until it came forth to welcome him
as he was approaching the gates of Rome? Certain it is
that Christianity was made the religion of the Roman
Empire by Paul, and by Paul’s single idea; that Luke’s
mind, as he wrote, was filled with that idea; and that he
fashioned his history with the view of showing how that idea
worked itself out in fact. Hence after A.D. 44 all other
missionary work, except what sprang from Paul, was unim-
portant in his estimation.
Quesz‘z'orzs 2 5 9

Is it so certain as many seem to hold that Luke’s con-
ception was inadequate? Would any extra-Roman spread
of Christianity have been permanent? Would even the
non-Pauline propagation southward towards Egypt (which
may be assumed as certain) have been successful and last~
ing, had it not been reinforced by the Pauline spirit? Is
not the case of Apollos in Acts xviii. 24 ff. really a typical
one, as Luke evidently considered it?
A phrase which often occurred to me when, as an under-
graduate, I was studying Greek philosophy for the schools,
bears on this. As I tried to understand the character of
those later systems in which the earlier and more purely
Greek thought, when carried by the conquests of Alexander
into the cities of the East, attempted to adapt itself to its
new environment by assimilating the elements which the
East had to contribute and which the Greek mind could
never supply, the expressions often rose to my lips that
these were the imperfect forms of Christianity, and again
that Paul was the true successor of Aristotle.
The phrases were probably both caught from some
source that I was studying (though I was never conscious
of having read them); and, if so, I should be glad to learn
where they occur. At the time, in 1875-1876, the writers
who most influenced me were T. H. Green and Lightfoot.
To both I owe almost equally much, though in very different
was s. My debt to Green is similar to that of many Oxford
students ; though I never heard him lecture, and only twice
or thrice was so far honoured as to be allowed to talk with
him. The quality in Lightfoot’s work that most impressed
me was his transparent honesty, his obvious straining to
understand and represent every person’s opinion with
scrupulous fairness. In him. I Was for the first timfi COH-
260 X

scious of coming in contact with a mind that was educated,
thoughtful, trained in scholarship, perfectly straight and
honest, and yet able to accept simply the New Testament
in the old~fashioned way, without refining it into meta-
physical conceptions like Green, or rationalising it into
commonplace and second-rate history like my German idols.
The combination had previously seemed to me impossible
in our age, though possible at an earlier time ; and its occur-
rence in Lightfoot set me to rethink the grounds of my own
position.
III. Why is Peter silent about Paul, when he is writing
to so many of the Pauline Churches? This question is
briefly touched by Hort ; and, while saying nothing positive,
he obviously inclines to the view that Paul was dead. He
explains away the obvious remark, that some reference to
the recent death of their great founder would seem impera-
tively demanded from Peter in writing to the Churches, by
the supposition that the “sad tidings of Paul’s death had
been already made known to the Asiatic Christians by their
Roman brethren or by St. Peter himself ”.1
But is it not clear in this Epistle that the writer is clad
with authority, as the recognised head to whom the Pauline
Churches looked for guidance and advice in a great crisis?
The writer evidently speaks with full and conscious delibera-
tion, because he feels that a serious trial awaits the Churches,
and that he is the person to whom they look. This is dis-
tinctly inconsistent with the idea that Paul was living; and
we need not doubt that this was the argument which weighed
with Hort, and made him place the letter after Paul’s death.
The authority which Paul exercised over his Churches, and
the discipline on which he laid such stress, would be violated,
1 Hort, First Epistle, p. 6.
Questions 26 I

if another stepped in to address and comfort and encourage
them, without a word of apology or explanation, without
even a reference to Paul. That would be the act of a rival
and not of a friend ; but it seems to me beyond all question
that Peter was the most cordial and hearty supporter of
Paul among the older Apostles, and the one with whom Paul
felt most kinship in spirit. Especially is it clear that the
author of this Epistle, whoever he was, must have been in the
most cordial relations with the Pauline policy.
But is this letter conceivable even after Paul’s death,
except at some considerable interval? An analogy will
help us in this question. Paul’s silence about Peter in the
letters to and from Rome is, in my estimation, a conclusive
proof that Peter had never been instrumental in building up
the Church of Rome, until after the last of these Epistles was
written. Similarly, Peter’s silence about Paul is to me con-
clusive that Peter was now the recognised successor to Paul’s
position in relation to the Asian Churches ;1 that he is not
simply putting himself into that position without a reference
to his dead friend ; but that he can look back over a lapse
of some years, during which his standing had become es-
tablished, and Paul’s followers, Silas and Mark, had attached
themselves to the company and service of his successor.
So Rev. F. Warburton Lewis pointed out to me.
This view is not wholly inconsistent with the theory that
First Peter was composed before the Apostle suffered under
Nero, supposing that Paul suffered in 62 or even in 64, and
that Peter survived till 67 or so. But, for my own part, I
can see no ground for believing that Paul died before 66 or
1What ground is there for the general view that Peter was older than
the Saviour, and much older than Paul? It might be argued that he was
four or five years younger than Christ, and nearly of an age with Paul.
262 X

even perhaps 67; and in that case the life of Peter must
have lasted into the time of Vespasian, as no persecution
can have occurred while the wars of the succession absorbed
Roman attention.
IV. Now that Hort has laid down with a precision
characteristic of himself, and with a decisiveness and finality
that is almost rare in his work, the principle that the
Churches of Asia Minor are classified according to the
provinces of the Roman Empire, and not according to the
non-Roman national divisions, and has stated positively
and unhesitatingly that the Pauline Churches in Phrygia
and Lycaonia1 were classed by St. Peter as Churches of
Galatia, it is to be hoped that the progress of study will
no longer be impeded by laboured attempts to prove that it
was impossible or inaccurate for Paul to class them as his
Churches of Galatia, or by equally futile attempts to prove
that the name Galatia was never applied to the great Roman
Province of Central Asia Minor, stretching across nearly
from sea to sea. It will remain as one of the curiosities
of scholarship that in this last decade, after these points
had long been taken as settled by all historical students, so
many distinguished theologians, after casting a hasty glance
into the antiquities of Asia Minor, should print discussions
of the subject proving that that which was could not possibly
have been.
But if Peter, as Hort declares, classed Antioch, Iconium,
Derbe and Lystra among the Churches of Galatia, must
not Paul have done the same thing? Is it likely that First
Peter, a letter so penetrated with the Pauline spirit, so much
influenced by at least two Pauline epistles, composed in such
close relations with two of Paul’s coadjutors, Silas and Mark,
1 Hort, First Peter, pp. 17, 157 ff.
Questions 2 6 3

should class the Pauline Churches after a method that Paul
would not employ?
Further, Hort lays down as a matter of certainty that
Asia throughout the New Testament means the Province,
therein contradicting the recent ideas of Professors Blass
and Zahn. Must we not then take Galatia in Paul on the
same analogy, and admit that when he wrote to the Churches
of Galatia he included among them all Churches within the
bounds of the Province?
It has just been said that Hort speaks on this subject
with a decisiveness and finality that is not so common in
his work. It is characteristic of him, rather, never to
reach decisiveness. He seems always to have been keenly
conscious 1now much subjectivity is liable to be admitted
into the judgment of the most careful, cool and mature
scholar, and to have often shrunk from feeling confident in
his own best proved conclusions. One of our best scholars
told me in a different connection a story which illustrates
this quality. Speaking of the authorship of Second Peter,
he said he had once spoken to Hort on the subject. Hort
replied somewhat to this effect: My first impulse is to say
that the same hand which wrote the first epistle could not
have written the second. But, then, my second impulse is
to doubt whether I can be right in thinking so.
Was it not this quality, which is closely connected with
his love of perfect truth and his unwillingness to leave the
smallest trace of error in his work, that prevented him from
writing more, and deprived us of much that we had almost
a right to expect from his admirable scholarship, his wide
range of knowledge, and his clear judgment? He that is
never content till he has risen superior to the weakness of
humanity, who is unwilling to print anything till he has
264 X

purged it of the minutest trace of error, will write little.
But, worse than that, it is very doubtful whether he will
ever write his best. While he spends his time polishing up
the less important details, he sometimes loses his grasp of
the essential and guiding clue. Truth will not wait to be
wooed after we shall have finished the accessories. We
must press forward, when the goddess allows a glimpse of
her face to be visible for a moment; it will be veiled again
immediately; it may he never again unveiled to the too
cautious seeker. He who attempts the pursuit must be
content to arrive bearing the stains and mud and dust of
travel; and, if he is too careful to avoid soiling his feet,
he is less likely to reach his aim.
It seems a sort of retribution on the man, whose too
delicate and overstrained love of perfection deprived the
world of the work it had always expected from him, that
his manuscripts should be published after his death by the
piety of his pupils—a piety so reverent that they apparently
shrink even from the thought that anything in his work
could need correction. For example, in his too short
edition of the opening chapters of First Peter, there is an
essay on the provinces of Asia Minor. It was written,
apparently, in the year 1882, for I see no reference to any-
thing not accessible in that year. Hort was lecturing on
the Epistle as late as 1887; but it may be doubted if he did
anything at this essay during the intermediate years. He
evidently studied carefully the inscriptions bearing on this
subject, while preparing the essay; but he studied them in
1882, and shows no knowledge of several inscriptions which
(with Mommsen’s commentary on them) would have
materially modified his statements on some points. The
essay is, indeed, remarkably accurate, considering when it
Questions 2 6 5

was composed. It is, of course, founded on Marquardt’s
R'o'rnische Staatsalterthz'tnzer; but it tacitly avoids several of
Marquardt’s mistakes, and shows an admirable tact in
selecting what was permanent and true in the views current
at that period. There are few statements that could have
been called erroneous at that time; 1 but, surely, there might
have been found among his pupils some one who would take
the trouble to look over at least the parts of the Berlin
Corpus that have been published since Hort’s death, and
mingle sufficient courage with his piety to correct (or at least
to omit) the statements which the progress of discovery has
shown to be inaccurate. Thus, for example, the old state-
ment (founded on Dion), that Claudius instituted the pro-
vince of Lycia-Pamphylia in A.D. 43, appears on p. I62,
though the difficulties of this view are plainly stated. It is
now established by Mommsen’s commentary on a recently
discovered Pamphylian inscription that Pamphylia was a
distinct procuratorial province for some time later, then was
connected with Galatia for a short time, and at last was united
to Lycia by Vespasian.
But enough of the ungrateful task of pointing out faults!
Yet it is regrettable that l—Iort’s work should be treated
with such undutiful dutifulness ; and that English scholarship
should be exposed to the just criticism of the foreigner, that
it seems to be ignorant that some errors have been eliminated
between 1882 and I 898 and that these should not appear any
longer in print under the patronage of an honoured name.2
1I quote one to justify the criticism. On p. 162, note 3, he treats as
part of the reorganisation of the East by Pompey in 13...‘. 64 the gift of parts
of Pamphylia to Amyntas, which was really made by Antonius in 36.
2 In i. 7 Hort sees that an adjective is needed, and is inclined to accept
the poorly attested reading Edict/1.011. Why should not an editor indicate that
Deissmann has discovered the adjective oonluios, and thus justified Hort’s in-
clination in an unexpected way.
266 X

V. Did early Christian travellers pack their baggage?
This question is suggested by Acts xxi. 15, where Dr. Blass
rejects the reading é7TLO’KGUaO'd/LGIJOL 1 on the ground that (1)
there are no other cases where this verb means “collecting
one’s baggage” (sarcinis collectis), and (2) it is strange that
packing up should be mentioned here and nowhere else on
the journey. But, on the contrary, it seems only natural
that the equipment should be mentioned here and nowhere
else. Dr. Blass has taken too narrow a view of the process
of equipment. The company was changing from sea-voyage
to landfaring. Equipment was needed to perform the
journey of sixty-four miles to Jerusalem in two days, and
this was provided in Cmsareia, and was brought back to
Caesareia by the disciples from the night’s halting-place.
Let us look into this carefully and from the proper point
of view, and not as travellers in trains or by Cook’s excur-
sions, for whom everything is arranged with the minimum
of exertion on their part. The company had spent in
Cmsareia the time during which they might have been
making their journey quietly and easily to Jerusalem ; yet
they were pressed for time, if they were anxious to arrive
before a near day. If they waited till the last moment at
Cmsareia, as they obviously did,2 this implies that they were
calculating their journey very nearly, and reckoning it to a
matter of hours. Now it is an elementary principle of right
1 He proposes the conjecture dwamrao'dnevoi, but wisely refrains from
putting it in the text.
2 On the one hand it is clear that the fifty days had not elapsed between
the start from Philippi and the arrival at Czesareia, and that, after reaching
Czesareia, they had it in their power to reach Jerusalem in time for Pentecost.
On the other hand, by waiting several days (w-Aei’ovs a‘y/ie’pas) at Cwsareia, it is
equally clear that they were running it very fine, and were leaving themselves
no margin.
Questions 267

living in southern countries that one must avoid those great
exertions and strains which in northern lands we habitually
take as an amusement. The customs of the modern people
show that this principle guides their whole life ; and it may
be taken for certain that in ancient time the same principle
guided ordinary life. Moreover, Paul was accompanied by
his physician, who fully realised the importance of the
principle, and knew that Paul, subject as he was to attacks
of illness and constantly exposed to great mental and emo-
tional strains, must not begin his duties in jerusalem by a
hurried walk of sixty-four miles in two days.
In a word, they arranged for horses or conveyances to
take them without fatigue over a great part of the long
journey; and they had been able to stay so long in Cxsareia
because it had been settled with the disciples there that this
should be done. The whole journey must have been dis-
cussed and planned ; and it is just because the method was
unusual for that company of travellers, and because it had
therefore taken time to settle details, that it is so pointedly
mentioned in the narrative.1 The horses then conveyed
the company rapidly along the level coast road to a point
where the ascent to the highlands of judaea began,2 probably
to Lydda, a distance of forty miles. The disciples returned
to Caesareia, taking the animals with them ; and Paul’s
company could safely perform the twenty-four miles’ walk
1 One other case occurs in which, as I think, Paul’s disciples sent him on
by horse or carriage (see Church in Rom. Emji, p. 68), where the evidence is
contained, not in Acts, which was Written by one who had not been present,
but in Paul’s own words to his entertainers. In this case, also, the convey-
ance was, I doubt not, provided by the Caesarean disciples, and not hired by
Paul himself. They brought Paul to the village, and took home the horses.
2Every reader of Professor G. A. Smith’s Historical Geography will re-
cognise how much his lucid pictures help in conceiving this journey properly.
268 X

to jerusalem on the following day. So far, then, from
évrw'lcevao'ci/LGVOL being used, as Dr. Blass thinks, in an
unexampled sense here, it is probably used in its proper
and commonest sense, “ having equipped (animals) ” ; 1 and,
when we translate it in its ordinary sense in classical Greek,
we find the journey described exactly as any common pagan
traveller would have made it. But many people write and
think about Acis as if the early Christians never could have
lived or travelled like ordinary men.
VI. As this Article has been largely devoted to Dr. Hort,
the following brief estimate and reminiscence of that great
scholar may be added.
It may be not unbecoming for one who cannot pretend
to estimate Dr. Hort’s merits as a theologian, to venture to
add a word on the loss which ancient history has sustained
by his death. In an epoch of surpassing interest in the
history of the world, his work is a sure and strong founda-
tion for the historian to work on; and it could never have
been so if he had confined his survey to the Christian docu-
ments alone, and had not been guided by a wide outlook
over the whole field of contemporary history. The early
Christian writers were environed by the Roman Empire;
and one could not talk for half an hour with Dr. Hort
without seeing how clearly he realised that fact and the
necessary inference from it, that the want of a vivid and
accurate conception of the Roman world as a whole is
certain to produce distortion in one’s conception of the
historical position of the early Christian writers. Many of
1 Chrysostom clearly understood the word so. He explains it as 72. 7rpos
'riyzl oooi'rropiar AaBér/q-es (i.e., érrog‘i’ryia) ; cp. Pollux, x., 14, quoted by Wetstein
(With a misprint), e’vreolcevao'uelua ‘711/ 'rd fnrogd'yia, oioz/ e’o'rpwjuaTw/iéra. The
ellipsis of awgéyia is natural, when we take the word, with Pollux, as “ hav-
ing saddled ”.
PLATE XIV.

FIG. 2o.—Sarcophagus in the Ruins near the Arch of Severus
(Mrs. Christie of Tarsus).
Toface f). 268. See 1’. 281.
Questions 269

the modern so-called “ critical” theories about them could
never have been proposed, had the authors possessed a clear
idea of the whole life and history of the period. From such
falseness of view, and from other possible distortions in a
different direction, Dr. Hort was saved, partly of course by
his natural genius, but to a considerable extent by his
university training; and I hope the day is far distant when
theologians will start without such preliminary discipline
in historical facts and method. Perhaps also one may ex-
press the hope, with which I know that Dr. Hort strongly
sympathised, that the day will soon come when the his-
torians will recognise how much they sacrifice by their
almost complete overlooking of the early Christian writers
as authorities for the general history of the period.
The first time that I had the opportunity of meeting
Dr. Hort—in Dr. Westcott’s house at Cambridge in I 887-—
was only sufficient for me to learn what a vigorous, sym-
pathetic, wide and masculine intellect his was. But the
only occasion on which I could really profit by his know-
ledge was in junc, 1892, when his health was already
broken. Dr. Sanday ordered me (for his advice I accepted
as a command) to call on him, and had arranged that my
call should not seem an intrusion. The conversation was
entirely about the lectures which I had just had the honour
of giving at Mansfield College; and I was much encouraged
to find that many of the views I had expressed met with
his cordial approval, and that his criticisms on matters of
detail as a rule only strengthened the general position. In
one point I owe him eternal gratitude. I mentioned that
the period to which tradition assigned the New Testament
documents seemed to me to be correct in all cases except
one: First Peter appeared to me to be fixed inexorably to
2 70 X. Questions

a period A.D. 75-85. Before I could go on to state the in-
ference which appeared to me necessary, and which I had
drawn in one of my lectures—that the Epistle could not be
the work of the Apostle—he broke in with much animation
that he had always felt that there was no tradition of any
value as to the date of Peter’s death: the martyrdom was
clearly and well attested, but its period rested on no
authority. Icaught from him at once the idea, which I
have since worked out at some length, that First Peter,
though composed about A.D. 75, is still a genuine work.
At the time he seemed very favourably inclined to this
date, and suggested several points bearing on it. Perhaps
on subsequent reflection he may have seen objections to it
which did not come up in conversation; nor do I wish to
claim him as finally supporting this view, because be for a
short time busied himself in suggesting circumstances that
told in its favour, several of which were of a kind that I
cannot myself use, as I restrict myself to external and
archaeological evidence. But certain it is that I left him
(after he had kept me so long that I feared it would do him
harm in his obviously weak state) with the impression in
my mind that he would work out the idea in lines different
from mine, and in a way that I could not attain to.
Whether he afterwards rejected it or not will now perhaps
never be known.
PLATE XV.
ff
FIG. 21.—Looking up towards the Cilician Gates (Mrs. \N. M. Ramsay).
Set” 2252.
PLATE XVI.



FIG. 22.—In the Cilician Gates (Mrs. ‘A’. M. Ramsay).
Tuj'u'cr‘ 270. Sn‘ 283.
XI
ST. PAUL’S ROAD FROM CILICIA TO
ICONIUM
XI
ST. PAUL’S ROAD FROM CILICIA TO ICONIUM
THE western part of Cilicia is a triangular plain, whose base
is the sea, and whose apex lies in a corner formed by the
Taurus Mountains bounding Cilicia on the north. In the
apex the river Saros issues from its wonderfully romantic
course of more than a hundred miles through the lofty Taurus
and enters the low sea plain. There was a time when this
level plain was a great gulf of the sea. The gulf has been
gradually filled up by the two great Cilician rivers, the
Pyramos and the Saros, probably aided by slight elevations
of the level of the land;1 and of the two rivers the Saros
has been the chief agent in determining the character of the
plain.
The road from Syria and the East enters the western
Cilician plain by a pass through which the Pyramos also
enters the plain. At the western end of this pass the river
turns down towards the south, and the road crosses it by a
large bridge (Fig. I 0). The crossing has always been a highly
important point in all military operations in Cilicia. A gar—
rison and a fortress had to be placed there to guard the
passage of the river. Thus arose the city of Mopsou-Hestia,
“ the Hearth of Mopsus ” (the Greek prophet and interpreter
of the will of the Greek god Apollo, who marks the advance
of the old Ionian colonists into the Cilician land). In this
1 Dr. Christie of Tarsus has observed a series of raised sea beaches.
(273) I8
274 X]

exposed situation Mopsou-Hestia, whose name has gradually
degenerated into the modern form Missis, was exposed to
the force of every invasion. Every enemy that would enter
the fertile plain must first capture the city, whose situation
was not susceptible of any strong defence in ancient warfare.
Every successful invader first destroyed the city, and then
restored it to guard the passage against future invaders. No
city has experienced a more calamitous history and been
more frequently captured than Missis.1
The road passes on over the plain to Adana on the Saros,
which again is crossed by a long bridge (Fig. I I Adana is
situated near the apex of the plain. It is the natural centre
of distribution for the whole plain, and capital of the country.
In the beginning it must have been the capital of Cilicia ; it
has a splendid acropolis ; and the natural path across Taurus
leads up from Adana into Cappadocia. But it is far from
the sea, and the mouth of the Saros has never been navig-
able, so that, when maritime intercourse was important, the
presidency of the country passed either to Mallos on the
Pyramos, or to Tarsus on the small river Cydnus. Those
two disputed the primacy for centuries. In the Turkish
period, when navigation ceased to be of any importance,
the primacy in the country passed again to Adana.
From Adana the road goes on to Tarsus. In modern
time it crosses the river Cydnus just before entering the
city (Fig. 12). But in ancient time the river flowed in a
different channel through the heart of the city. The change
in its course was the work of Justinian in the sixth century
after Christ. The channel of the Cydnus required to be
carefully kept, in order to provide for the unimpeded course
1 Langlois, in Revue Archéologique, 1855, p. 410 ff., describes the remains
of the city.
PLATE XVII.



Flo. 23.—In the Vale of Bozan‘ti (Mrs. ‘W. M. Ramsay).
To face 274. Srrjv. 284.
St. Paul’s RoaaI from Cilicia to [coniurn 275

of the water; as the energy and prudence of government
degenerated in later Roman time, the channel was allowed
to get into bad order, and part of the city was liable to be
flooded. Justinian cut a relief channel, which was intended
only to carry off the surplus water in time of flood and pour
it into the channel of a small stream (dry except in time of
rain) which flowed parallel to the old Cydnus on the east
side of the city. But gradually the bed of the Cydnus
within the city was blocked; and the new channel carried
more and more of the water. In early modern time travellers
saw both channels flowing; but now only the new channel
carries any permanent flow of water. An artificial water-
course for purposes of irrigation diverts part of the Cydnus
through the gardens on the north and west 0 the modern
town; but it does not coincide, either in its exit from the
main stream or in its channel, with the old Cydnus bed,
which can be traced in the southern part of the city.
The walls of Tarsus have been pulled down in com-
paratively recent time. There remains now only one frag-
ment, a gateway on the west side of the town with a small
part of the wall adjoining. A second gate on the east side,
which was in even better preservation, was destroyed only
a few years ago. The one remaining gate is popularly called
“ St. Paul’s Gate” (Fig. 13), but there is no justification for
attaching the Apostle’s name to it. The walls and gates
were wholly a work of the mediaeval period; and at “St.
Paul’s Gate” one sees fine stones of the Roman time em-
bedded in the centre of the masonry. The work though
late is of good character; and it is probable that these walls
were substantially the defences built by Haroun-al-Raschid,
when he restored and refortified and repeopled Tarsus about
A.D. 780-800, to serve as basis of operations in his attempt
276 X]

to concentrate the military power of the Khalifate on the
conquest of the Roman Empire, though they were often in-
jured and repaired since his time.
The building of the walls implies that Tarsus had sunk
into decay. The reason lay in the growth of a second
Tarsus on the hills in front of Taurus, about ten to twelve
miles north of the city of the plain. The old Tarsus had
been defenceless, without a citadel and without strong walls.
In the later Roman Empire, when these lands became ex-
posed to invasion, the situation was too unsafe ; and a more
defensible city gradually formed itself on the high ground,
as will be described below. The modern Tarsus on the
ancient site was the creation of Haroun-al-Raschid. It has
retained the ancient name, which has lasted with only the
slightest change from the Tarshish of Genesis x. 4 in the
second millennium B.C. 1 to the Tersous of the present day.
The most striking episode in. the wars of Haroun,
“Aaron-the-Just,” is associated with the writing of one of
the most remarkable letters in all history. The Romans
were in the habit of paying a yearly tribute to the Khalifs ;
Irene, who made herself Empress by assassinating her own
son the Iconoclast Constantine and with difficulty maintained
herself in that position through the strenuous support of the
Orthodox party, had so slight a hold on the reins of power
that she had submitted to accept this mark of servitude.
When N icephorus I. succeeded her in A.D. 802, he wrote to
Haroun, refusing to pay any longer the tribute which only a
timid woman would have consented to pay, declaring that
the rightful relation between the Empires was that the
barbarians ought to pay double that tribute to the Roman
1On the identity of Tarshish and Tarsus, see the discussion in Ex-
fositor, April, 1906, p. 366 ff.
PLATE X‘v’lll.
I a?‘
‘1". _
0-‘
v ' i ‘-‘ q . . ~ .'
p‘? :5‘ ‘T "'r 1a.,‘ ' 'i
. n‘ '- .3’ " s ‘ -. ‘I e '
an‘. :‘i "4» ‘5- '

FIG. 24.—Looking up towards ‘vVhite Bridge (Mrs. W. M. Ramsay).
See 236.
PLATE XIX,


FIG. 25.-HLOoking down towards ‘White Bridge (Mrs. W. M. Ramsay).
Tofu-cc f). 276. Sec 1>. 287.
St. Paul’s Roaa’ from Cilicia to [coniurn 277

sovereign, and appealing to the issue of war. The ambassa-
dors, after delivering his letter, which was expressed in the
form “From Nicephorus, Emperor of the Greeks, to Aaron,
King of the Arabs,” were instructed to throw down a bundle
of swords before the steps of the Khalif’s throne.
The Khalif, according to the story of the Arabs, drew
his scimitar of supernatural fabric and hacked the Greek
swords in twain without turning the edge of his weapon.
Then he dictated his answer to the Emperor’s letter—an
answer whose brevity left nothing omitted :—
In the name of God the All~Gracious, the All-Merciful,
Aaron-the-Just, Commander of the Faithful, to the
dog of the Greeks. I have read thy letter, thou son
of an infidel mother. The answer thou shalt not
merely learn, thou shalt see with thine own eyes.
The answer appeared in the march of a mighty army.
Owing to that apparently complete break in the history
of Tarsus, there was necessarily an interruption in the con-
tinuity of Christian tradition. No memory of Pauline sites
could have survived, as there was no continuous Christian
society to preserve the recollection. Besides the false “ St.
Paul’s Gate,” there is a “Well of St. Paul” shown in the
courtyard of a house in Tarsus; but the owner of the house,
an educated and intelligent Syrian, of a family settled for
three generations in Tarsus, who speaks English with ease
and exceptionally good accent, told me that the sole founda-
tion for the name was that a marble plaque bearing the name
of the Apostle had been found when his father had had the
well cleared out. The plaque was discovered in a small cell
or chamber which opened on to the shaft of the well.
The road from Tarsus to the West and to Rome by
Derbe and Ephesus has to cross the lofty mountains of
278 X]

Taurus, snow-clad during great part of the year, as they
are seen from the little hill beside the American College (in
Fig. I 5). This hill is really formed by the accumulation of
soil over ancient buildings, and is not a natural elevation.
The pass by which the road crosses the mountains carries
the only road practicable for wheeled traffic from Cilicia to
the central plateau of Asia Minor. The importance of
Tarsus in history was to a great extent due to its position
at the end of this great historic road. The road had to be
cut by hand through the rock for a considerable distance at
several points; and it was the energy of the Tarsians in
making the road many centuries before Christ which laid
the foundation for the future greatness of the city. It was
probably the enterprise of the early Greek colonists that
planned and undertook this really great engineering work.
This artificial road was far superior to the natural path
from Adana across the mountains; and there is no proof
that the people of Adana ever seriously tried to improve
their road.
If the primacy of Cilicia passed from Adana to Tarsus,
the reason lay in the superior energy and enterprise of the
Tarsians, which counterbalanced the superior natural ad-
vantages of Adana. The same activity and boldness were
shown by the Tarsians in opening their city to the sea. The
Cydnus ran through the centre of Tarsus and entered a
shallow lagoon a few miles below the city; it had no direct
navigable communication with the sea. A bank of sand
over which the sea broke barred the communication. En-
gineering operations assisted nature, defined the lagoon,
formed it into a lake which made a splendid land-locked
harbour for ships, cleared and deepened the lower course of
the river, embanked and bordered the river and the lake with
PLATE XX.


Flo. 26.—Above White Bridge : Rock-gate Cut to take the Ancient Road
(IVIIS. VV'. M. Ramsay).
See 288.
PLATE XXI.


FIG. z7.~r\t Twin Ix'han, looking up the “later of Bulghar Maden
'l‘o face [1. 278. (Mrs. \V. M. Ramsay). See p. 288.
St. Paul’s PoaaI front Cilicia to [coniurn 279

piers and docks. Thus Tarsus, like modern Glasgow, made
its own river and its own harbour.
Just as the cutting of the road over Taurus gave Tarsus
the advantage over Adana, so the great engineering opera-
tions in its river and lake made it superior to Mallos, and
ousted that city on the great river Pyramos from its old
rank as the chief port of Cilicia. In the making of the
harbour it stands out clear that the Greek maritime colonists
in Tarsus again played the leading part. It was as a meet-
ing-place of oriental Cilicians and occidental Ionians that
Tarsus became great. Hence it is mentioned in Genesis x.
4 as Tarshish child of the Ionian (Javan).
The crossing of Taurus is made by way of the great
historic pass called “ the Cilician Gates,” which lies about
thirty miles north of Tarsus. The road therefore issues
from the city on the north side, and immediately crosses the
new channel which Justinian made for the river Cydnus and
which is now the only channel. Close above the little bridge
is a waterfall, where the river flows over a ledge of rocks in
a picturesque and irregular cascade of about ten to fifteen
feet in height (Fig. 16). Before the river was diverted into
this course the rocks were cut to form graves; and when the
water is low many of these graves can be seen, which are
hidden from view when the Cydnus is swollen by the melt-
ing snows of Taurus.
The modern road was constructed by Ibrahim Pasha of
Egypt during his gallant attempt in 1832-1840 to overthrow
the Ottoman Sultan and to make his father the supreme
ruler of Turkey, an attempt in which—after inflicting on
Von Moltke, then an officer in the Turkish service, the only
defeat which that great general ever sustained—he was
finally foiled by the British guns under Sir Sidney Smith
280 X]

and the bombardment of Acre. The road fell into disrepair
after 1840, and was restored by a series of spasmodic efforts
made from time to time during the last twenty-six years.
It ascends the valley of the little stream, into which Justinian
conducted the surplus waters of the Cydnus, and then turns
in a winding course west across the undulating hills to enter
the glen of the Cydnus at about thirty—seven kilometres
(twenty-four miles) from Tarsus, and keeps on up a branch
of the Cydnus to the Cilician Gates, fifty~four kilometres
(thirty-four miles) from Tarsus.
The Roman road followed a straighter line. It went
nearly north over the plateau that divides the glen of the
Cydnus from the more open valley which the modern road
prefers. Its course can be traced for miles in this part, and
the surface is sometimes quite good, being formed of rec-
tangular slabs of stone (Fig. I 7). About twelve miles from
Tarsus, near the village of Bairamli, it is spanned by a
triumphal arch (Figs. 18 f.), which I conjecture to have been
built in honour of the Emperor Septimius Severus, who
marched down this road towards his final victory over his
rival, Pescennius Niger, in the battle near Issus, A.D. 194.
A four-horse car, Quadrigae, once stood on the top of the
arch; and the place is mentioned on coins of Tarsus under
the name Kodrigai (in Greek letters).1 Langlois, in his
excellent paper, Revue Arc/zéo/ogigue, 18 56, p. 481, is dis-
posed to date the arch under Constantine.
The arch is near the highest part of a broad ridge, about
1,400 feet above the sea; and it commands a magnificent
view of the entire Cilician coast with the gulf of Issus, the
1'I have described the evidence in the Bulletin de Cori/0515. Hcllim, 1898,
p. 234. A different view was taken by Professor Kubitschek, Numismat.
Zcitschrift, xxvii., p. 87 f.
PLATE XXII.




. ,F' ,
‘ “~ l" fia~§ .A‘T'”: " ‘a c A ‘5-’ .
FIG. 28.—Old Turkish Bridge in the Gorge above Twin
Khan (Mrs. W. M. Ramsay).
Toface f». 280. See 288.
Si. Paul’s Road from Cz'lz'rz'a to [confirm 281

western plain, and the mountain-wall of Taurus on the
north.
Around the arch, and especially on the west, stretching
as far as the gorge of the Cydnus, is a bewildering mass of
ruins, temples, houses, tombs, sarcophagi, etc., overgrown
with brushwood and difficult to traverse. These form a
city, strongly fortified by great walls which skilfully take
advantage of the hilly ground. We have here a second
Tarsus, belonging to the late Roman period, not a mere
adjunct to the city of the plain, but a really great city,
which however was not independent but merely part of
Tarsus, for it stands within the territory of that city. It is
shown by the coins that all the territory up to the “Bounds
of the Cilicians ” belonged to Tarsus (Fig. 20).
Originally, this second Tarsus was doubtless a mere
summer city and country residence for the population of
the lower town. But, when the danger of invasion made
the Tarsians seek for stronger defences, it is probable that
this hill city became the principal place, as being a great
walled city offering military strength and safety to the
whole population of Tarsus. The Jerusalem Itinerary,
which belongs to the fourth century, puts Tarsus twenty-
four Roman miles south of the Cilician Gates; and probably
this hill city was the Tarsus which the Jerusalem pilgrim1
saw. From this city, then, he turned east to Adana, and
never went south to the Tarsus of the plain.
The Roman road must touch the modern road somewhere
near the thirty-third kilometre from Tarsus. It is still unde-
termined whether it thereafter followed the winding modern
line, or went straight on over the hilly ground direct towards
1 He travelled by land from Bordeaux to jerusalem and back, A.D. 333.
282 X]

the Gates. On the modern road, in the Cydnus glen, about
thirty-eight kilometres from Tarsus, is a khan called Mazar-
Oluk with a large fountain of water. If the Roman road
took this course, the fountain would have to be regarded as
the ancient Mopsou-krene, Fountain of Mopsus, often men-
tioned as a station between Tarsus and the Gates, whose
name furnishes the proof 1 that Ionian Greek colonists were
(as we have said) instrumental in building and cutting that
great Tarsian road. But lam disposed to think that the
ancient road crossed the modern road at right angles and
went straight on over the hills northwards. In that case
Mopsou-krene would have to be sought in the hilly ground
east of the Cydnus gorge; and its discovery by some ex-
plorer may be hoped for.
The whole of this ground over which the road winds is
undulating, and the valleys between the rising grounds are
cultivated, fertile and well-watered. The wild olive and wild
vine abound. The gorge of the Cydnus is very picturesque,
and becomes wilder and grander as we travel northward.
The country is Well-wooded with wild olive, various kinds
of fir, plane trees, oaks, cedars, etc.
About kilometre forty-four we reach Sarishek-Khan.
Here the Roman road, if it took the short route over the
hills, would join the modern road; and here a road comes
in from Adana. This is an ancient site.
Thereafter we ascend rapidly, and the scenery becomes
grander. We have reached the steep slopes of the Taurus
proper. After a few more kilometres, the Cilician Gates
(kilometre fifty-four) appear in front of us (Fig. 21), 3,750
feet above the sea. The Gates are a deep gap, worn by the
Cydnus through a lofty wall of rock that runs athwart our
1 See p. 273.
PLATE XXIII.



FIG. 29.—-The Castle of Loulon (Mrs. W. M. Ramsay).
To face 15. 282. $6015. 289.
St. Paul’s Raaa’ fr/am Cilicia Z0 Iconium 28 3

path. Originally there was only room for the stream, until
the Ionian Tarsians cut out of the rock on the west bank
space for a Waggon-road. The pass is singularly grand;
and a strong wind seems always to blow up it from the hot
country of Cilicia to the cold summit of Taurus. A media-:-
val castle crowns the rock wall at the western edge of the
Gates; and there is a path across this mountain wall, by
which it would be possible in ancient times for an enemy to
turn the flank of the defenders in the Gates. Inscriptions of
Roman time on the rocks place here the “Bounds of the
Cilicians” (Fig. 22).
That narrow gorge must have been a serious obstacle to
the first Crusaders, one of whose armies at least, under Tancred
and Baldwin, passed this way. They called it “ the Gate of
Judas,” because it was the enemy of their faith and the be-
trayer of their cause.1
North of the Gates the road rises rapidly for a few kilo-
metres until it reaches a bare broad pass, now called Tekir,
about 4,250 feet high, bounded right and left by hills a few
hundred feet higher, behind which the mountains rise still
more. While the Gates were the natural point of defence
in ancient time, the Tekir summit is the line of defence in
modern warfare; and here Ibrahim Pasha drew his military
lines, when he was compelled ‘to abandon his conquests
farther north. On the sides of this bare summit the snow
must be deep and even dangerous in winter. In 15.0. 314
Antigonus attempted to march from Cilicia northwards, but
lost many of his soldiers in the snow, and had to return
into Cilicia. A second attempt at a more favourable oppor—
tunity was successful.2 Haroun-al-Raschid crossed the pass
in the early winter of A.D. 80 3-804, and thus took the
1Lcttcrs t0 the Seven Churches, p. 10. 2 Diodorus, xix., 69, 2.
284 X]

Byzantine Emperor Theophilus unawares.1 A hardy traveller,
by watching his opportunity, can cross the pass even in the
winter season. But the peaceable population in ancient
times seem to have regarded the mountains as closed (like
the sea) in winter, and to have expected the return of
summer before attempting to traverse them.2 And, in truth,
there are times when it would be dangerous for any traveller
to attempt the crossing.
Somewhere on the sides or top of the Tekir summit
there was a large khan in ancient times for the benefit of
travellers. It was probably maintained by the State, and
hence is specially mentioned under the name Panhormus.
From Tekir the road, which hitherto has had a northerly
direction, descends rapidly towards north-east, down a narrow
glen beside a little stream. At kilometre seventy-three we
enter the Vale of Bozanti, the ancient Podandos (2,800 feet),
a little valley about two and a half miles long from north to
south, and one and a half broad, entirely surrounded by
lofty mountains (Fig. 23). Basil describes it with horror
in his Epz'szi, 64: “When I mention Podandos, suppose me
to mean the pit Ceadas at Sparta or any natural pit that
you may have seen, spots breathing a noxious vapour to
which some have involuntarily given the name Charonian ".
It is a very beautiful little valley, as we have seen it, in
bright sunny Weather.
High over us on the right, as we enter the Vale of
Bozanti, perched on the summit of the mountains is a
Byzantine castle, Anasha-Kale, described by Langlois3 as
1 Weil, Geschichte der Khalifen, ii., p. 159.
2 See the quotations in Art. XV. from Basil, describing a country more
open and less exposed to snow-drifts than the Taurus Pass.
3 His paper in Revue Archéologique, 1850, p. 481 ff., is well worth study.
PLATE XXIV.

G/fll/Z‘
FIG. 3o.—Looking South-East up the River towards the Snowy summit
of Taurus; Ibriz on the right.
To face 15. 284. See 261;.
Sz‘. Paul’s Road from Cilicia to [0012mm 285

built of black marble. This castle, called Rodentos by Con-
stantine Porphyrogenitus, was held by the Crusaders for a
time, and their historians call it and the vale beneath it
Butrentum. On a rock near the castle, overhanging the
precipice, are the little crosses which many of the Crusading
warriors cut as memorials of themselves. “Those armies
were led by the noblest of their peoples, by statesmen,
princes and great ecclesiastics. Yet not one written
memorial of all those Crusading hosts has been found in the
whole country.” 1
The castle of black marble among the lonely mountains
beyond the frontier of the Mohammedan land is familiar to
every reader of the Amhz'rm N zghz‘s: it occurs in more than
one of the tales, if I remember rightlr , b t the story whose
scene is most evidently laid in the Vale of Bozanti will be
mentioned on the following page.
Through the Vale of Bozanti flows a river, called Tchakut-
Su or Bozanti-Su, which runs away south-eastwards to join
the Saros a little above Adana. The mountains close in
around it below the Vale, and its course cannot be followed
except by wading through the water, which is too deep for
comfort and even safety in some places. Colonel Massy,
formerly Consul in Mersina, informed me, on the authority
of the engineers who made the survey for the Bagdad Rail-
way, that the mountains actually close in overhead and the
river runs through a tunnel; but neither he nor I can vouch
for this from eye-witness. This seems to be the only possible
route for the Railway, which will be very expensive in this
section.
1Letters to the Seven Churches, p. 10, where the illiteracy of the
Crusaders, A.D. 1100, is contrasted with the general power of writing pos-
sessed by Greek and Carian mercenaries in the Egyptian service 13.0. 600.
286 X]

The Tchakut-Su rises on the central plateau south of
Tyana and west of Ulu—Kishla, and offers an easy gradient
for the Railway through the Taurus, though much rock-
cutting and building for protection against loose rock will
be necessary in some parts of its course.
Our road goes north two miles along the western edge
of the vale and then turns westwards up the glen of the
Tchakut-Su, which is singularly grand and picturesque.
The gorge narrows and the mountains rise more and more
steep as we advance. After kilometre eighty we cross to the
north bank by the White Bridge (Ak-Keupreu), which in
189C when I first saw it, was a quaint little mediasval bridge
with pointed arch and low parapet, but was soon afterwards
rebuilt in incongruous style with considerable stone em-
bankments on each side concealing one of the springs of
water that rise close to it on the southern side. In Fig. 24
the White Bridge is hid from view at the left side of the
picture.
Space does not permit me to repeat here the legends
which are told about these fountains, the Black Water (Kara-
Su) and Sugar Spring (Sheker-Bunar), and the tale of the fish
which caused the death of the Khalif Al-Mamun in A.D. 88 3.1
But the connection of the localities with a tale in the Amdz'rm
ZVzglzzs demands a word of notice. The tale of the fisherman,
who caught the strange fish of four colours, Christian, Moslem,
Jew and Magian, had its origin in Tarsus, the city of the
Sultan Al-Mamun (who died there). The fish were caught
“in a pond situated betwixt four hills, beyond the mountain
which was seen from the city”. These are the fish of the
1 They are narrated in an article “ Cilicia Tarsus and the great Taurus
Pass” (Geograpk. yournal, Oct., 1903, pp. 391-393); the last also in Im-
pressions of Turkey, p. 288 f.
PLATE XXV.

FIG. 3I.—The sarcophagus of Sidamaria.
To fare 286. Sn’ 293.
Sf. Paul’s Road from Cz'lz'cz'a to [confirm 287

Sugar Spring beside White Bridge (now destroyed, but still
a picturesque pond as late as 1891, when I saw it for the
second time). In the tale the Sultan encamped beside this
pond,just as the Khalif Al-lVIamun encamped beside White
Bridge; and from the pond the Sultan went away alone,
“till he saw before him a great building: when he came
near he found it was a magnificent palace, or rather a very
strong castle, of fine black polished marble,” the castle of
Butrentum. The crossing of the mountain of Taurus, visible
from Tarsus, the descent into the plain between mountains
on all four sides, the pond with the marvellous fish, the
castle of black marble among the mountains—all these are
true details of the Vale of Bozanti.
The ancient read did not cross at ‘Nhite Bridge, but
kept on the north bank for some distance down the river.
Much cutting was needed to carry it through the rock below
White Bridge, and three “Gates” were carved through
projecting spurs of the northern cliffs. At the western
end of the western “ Gate ” is an early Byzantine inscrip-
tion, probably the work of some pilgrim bound for Jeru-
salem, “ Lord! help Martyrius the Deacon”. The northern
pier and part of the roadway of another medimval bridge,
narrower and older than White Bridge and about one
hundred yards below it, can be seen in Fig. 24. At no
other place can the work of the ancient road be better
studied.
The White Bridge is now the boundary of Cilicia, divid-
ing Adana Vilayet from Konia Vilayet ; and it was also the
boundary between Ibrahim Pasha’s country and the Otto-
man territory as fixed in 1839 for a short time.
Above and west of this bridge the gorge grows deeper
and gloomier (Fig. 25). On the south a wall of rock, which
288 X] ‘

one would guess to be 1,500 feet in sheer perpendicular
height,1 borders the stream for more than'a mile.
The road follows the north bank, and frequently traces
of ancient cutting can be observed beside the easily distin-
guished blasting for the modern road (Fig. 26). The ancient
road was destroyed during the Arab wars between A.D. 660
and 960 in order to render the passage between Arab Cilicia
and Byzantine territory more difficult.
The road passes the Wooden Bridge (Takhta-Keupreu),
which spans an affluent from the plateau on the north; and
goes on due west, until after six or seven miles we reach
Twin Khan (Tchifte-Khan), one of the most beautiful spots
I have ever seen (Fig. 27). Two waters meet at the Khan,
one coming from the south-west down an open glen from
the old Hittite silver-mines of Bulghar-Maden, and one from
the west through a gorge so narrow that in some places it
looked as if one could jump across it a full hundred feet above
the water. The water here has cut its way so sharp and
clean through a bed of rock, that the walls on each side are
perfectly perpendicular and apparently about twelve feet
apart.2 At the bottom of this narrow cleft the water foams
and rushes. The road keeps near this water, but ascends to
a higher level. Farther on the river-bed opens out a little,
and an old Turkish road crosses it (Fig. 28). The modern
road, which was excellent in 1902, keeps on a much higher
level. In this part the scenery is very desolate and bare
for some distance.
1 It seems actually to overhang, as if from the summit one could drop a
stone clear of the rock wall; but the eye is a fallible judge of height and
character.
2 We overlooked the cleft from the road, but did not go down to it: the
estimate is mere guesswork.
PLATE XII.

FIG. 18.—The Arch of Severus with Students of the American College in
Tarsus (Mrs. Christie of Tarsus).
PLATE XIII.

Flo. Ig.-—The Arch ol Severus at Bairamli (Mrs. Christie of Tarsus).
Tofcrrr 288. _ Sd‘l’ 280.
PLATE XXVI.


FIG. 32.-—The Castle of Karamanat Laranda.
To face 11. 288. Sec 1’. 294.
St. Paul’s Road from Cz'lz'cz'a to Iconium 289

After four miles we reach a point whence we see the
Castle of Loulon in the distance, and overlook the Vale of
Loulon, into which the road now descends. This vale is
very narrow at the eastern end, but opens out as we go on.
\/Ve are now some ten miles north of the front main
ridge of Taurus, and are thus able to get a view of it.
Previously we were too near to see its summits. It runs
east and west, a long ridge about 9,000 or 10,000 feet in
height, making an imposing background to the view over
intervening hills. Snow lies on it through great part of the
year. In june, 1902, with the clouds covering its shoulders,
and its long snowy summit rising above them, it offered a
strikingly beautiful picture, which a photograph reproduces
only imperfectly.
After a few miles the vale forks, where two streams
meet: one glen runs up south-west into the hills, the other
ascends in a direction slightly north of west and along this
goes the road. At the apex of the low hills, which divide
the two streams, a little plateau faces us on the left; this is
the site of the Roman Colonia Faustiniana, called in Greek
Faustinopolis; and two miles up the northern stream we
find the site of the old village Halalal adjoining the road.
When the Emperor Marcus Aurelius was travelling along
this road, his wife Faustina died at Halala, and the Emperor
made a new city to perpetuate her name.
Standing on the road beside Halala, we look up to the
Castle of Loulon, on a lofty peak which rises above the
village on the north. This castle commands the northern
end of the pass which we have just traversed from Tarsus ;
and hence it played a very important part in the Saracen
1 See p. 182.
I9
290 X[

wars, A.D. 660-965. When it was in Byzantine possession,
Arab armies could not use the pass except with consider-
able difficulty, and would have to leave a strong force to
confine the garrison of Loulon. When the Saracens held
it, the Roman armies could not traverse the pass towards
Cilicia; hence Al-Saffsaf (as the Arabs called Loulon) was
to them the “Bulwark of Tarsus”. The possession of this
critical fortress was keenly contested. It often changed
hands, but was generally Byzantine, for the Arabs never
succeeded in permanently holding any point north of Taurus.
The Arab geographer of the ninth century, Ibn Khordadhbeh,
calls it1 “the camp of the King of the Romans”. Here
was the first beacon-fire on the line of communication with
Constantinople. As soon as a Saracen army was known to
be crossing the pass, Loulon lit its beacon, and flashed the
news along a series of fires to the capital. In the photo-
graph, Fig. 29, the tall peak is dwarfed.
A few hundred yards farther on towards the west, the
ancient and the modern road alike fork. One branch goes
off at right angles to the north through a break in the hills
I at the western foot of the castle-peak to Tyana and Cap-
padocia generally. The other keeps straight on for four
miles along the river to Ulu-Kishla, where the hills on the
north end ; and the road enters on the open central plateau
of Anatolia and attains its highest elevation, about 4,600 feet
above the sea. The “long barracks,” Ulu-Kishla, are one of
the most remarkable old Turkish buildings.
The traveller who is making for Iconium and the West
has a choice of routes from this upland to the next import-
ant station, Herakleia-Cybistra, about thirty miles west of
1 Or perhaps a camp in the low ground beneath the castle. The localities
need careful examination.
PLATE XXVII.
‘a. v
"31%

FIG. 33.v—The “ Pilgrim-Father ” above Derbe (Mrs. W. M. Ramsay).
St. Paul’s Roadfrom Cz'lz'tz'a to [eohz'um 291

Ulu-Kiskla. In modern time waggons keep well out to the
north into the open plain; but I believe that the Roman
road continued straight on over undulating and hilly country,
until it entered a valley with a stream which flows direct
to Cybistra. Horses can now use this route; but it could
easily be adapted to wheeled traffic, and the Roman road
ought to be traced.
Where the valley, just mentioned, opens on the main
Lycaonian and Cappadocian plain, about six miles south-
east of Eregli (now a railway station), it is joined on the
left by the water of I briz, and above it on the right rises the
last of those outlying northern hills, a peak bearing the
strong Castle of Herakleia, called Hirakla by the Arabs.
The beautiful glen of Ibriz, with its remarkable Hittite
sculpture, is described in Article VI., p. I 72 f., of this volume.
Hirakla was one of the fortresses most disputed in the
Saracen wars, as it guarded and commanded the road to the
West; it was often captured, e.g., by Haroun-al-Raschid, and
always retaken by the Greeks. Looking back towards
south-east, as we stand at the entrance on the Lycaonian
plain, we have the view shown in Fig. 30.
Cybistra is generally identified with the modern town
Eregli (z'.e., Herakleia) ; but perhaps it may hereafter be
found more correct to say that Eregli stands among the
gardens of Cybistra, and that the ancient city occupied a
stronger position on the hills (perhaps somewhere as yet
undiscovered near the Castle of Hirakla).
From Eregli onwards the general character of the road
does not vary. It runs on an almost dead level, hardly
varying from the elevation of 3,100 to 3, 300 feet. The route
keeps to the southern edge of the great central plateau. On
the left hand rises the outer front of Taurus like a great
292 X]

wall. On the right spreads out the boundless level plain
of Lycaonia. But amid this uniformity there is constant
variety in the picture presented to the traveller’s eyes.
Taurus is sometimes nearer, sometimes more distant, as the
road winds; in some places it seems to rise like a continu-
ous wall, in other cases it is broken into distinct peaks of
varied forms. The level plain to the north is never mono-
tonous, for it is dotted with lofty islands of mountain that
spring bold and sharp from the sea of plain. Due north of
Eregli, at a distance of forty to fifty miles, are the beautiful
double cones of Hassan-Dagh, the ancient Argeos or Argos,1
nearly 11,000 feet high. Thirty miles to the west of it,
Karadja-Dagh looks like a low blue island on the horizon.
In front, about forty miles from Eregli, barring the view to
Iconium, is Kara-Dagh, a black volcanic jagged mass, behind
which in dark nights of May or june the lightning plays
with strangely beautiful effect during the frequent thunder-
storms of those months. In the intervals between these
mountains stretches the dead level plain, over which nothing
except its own weakness appears to prevent the eye from
looking away to infinity.
Beyond Eregli the road in ancient times passed along the
south-eastern end of the White Lake, close to the hole under
the mountains into which the lake discharges its waters,2
crosses a rocky ridge, where the ancient cutting to carry it is
well marked, to a village called Serpek or Ambararassi, the
site of the ancient town Sidamaria. Here was found the
immense sarcophagus of late Roman time adorned with
1 It is to be distinguished from Mount Argaios farther east and out of
sight.
2 See p. 172 f. The modern road and railway go direct to Karaman by
a more southerly route, shown on the map, p. 48.
WFPGW VAX/2:.



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St. Pan! s Road from Cilieia to [eoninrn 293

elaborate sculptures—probably the largest known sarcophagus
of Greek or Roman time—which is now in the Imperial
Museum at Constantinople. When I was travelling with
Sir Charles Wilson in 1882 he had this monument dug up;
and, as the heads of the two colossal figures on the top
of the sarcophagus have long since disappeared, we are
assumed to have broken them off and carried them away.
The sole foundation for this idea, which is openly declared
by high Turkish officials, is that there were two ancient
heads and two Englishmen. As a matter of fact there
were no heads on the figures when we uncovered them; and
had there been, the art of the two figures is so bad, and the
heads would have been so weighty (as the figures must be
about twelve feet long) that there would have been no
temptation to carry them away. Their sole interest would
lie in keeping them attached to the bodies (Fig. 31).
The character of the subject shown in the accompanying
photograph of one side of the sarcophagus is discussed in
Studies in the H istorj/ and Art of the Eastern rl’ro'oinees,1 p. 59.
Ambararassi lies in the level plain, but three miles on
to the west is the true ancient site, a fortress on a hill at
Kale-Keui (Castle Village). Beyond this the road, which
hitherto has been going straight towards the dark mass of
Kara-Dagh, turns south-west, passes the old fort of Sidero-
palos on a mound in the plain, now a formless ruin two
miles from the railway station Sidirvar (Sidivre), and reaches
Karaman, the ancient Laranda, metropolis of South-eastern
Lycaonia from the beginning of history, now a railway
station, I03 kilometres from Iconium and 87 kilometres from
1London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1906. See also M. Th. Reinach in
Monuments Plot, and M. Mendel in Bulletin de Correspondence Hellén., 1902.
294 X[

Eregli.l It lies in a triangular recess of the Taurus, where the
mountains recede and the level plain stretches far south; and
the road makes a great southward bend in order to reach it,
attracted by its economic importance. The view of the castle
on a hill in the centre of the city is given as a specimen of a
kind of military architecture common in this country, and
probably early Turkish in origin. The old name Laranda
is known to the Greeks, a small body of whom preserved a
continuous existence through the Turkish period; but the
name of an old Seljuk chief, Karaman, has replaced it in
Mohammedan use (Fig. 32).
We now turn north of west past Ilistra (which keeps its
ancient name) to Cassaba, the old Pyrgos, a picturesque
little town, in the open plain, entirely surrounded by high
mediaeval walls.2 Thence the modern road goes straight
over the plain north-northwest to Iconium; but the Roman
road in the first century went on a little north of west past
the villages Passola or Possala (which retains the ancient
name) and Losta, which are one ancient town, to Derbe.
Over all three towers a huge conical mountain of bare
limestone rock, of singularly grand and bold outline, which
presides like a giant guardian over Southern Lycaonia, and
assumes an element of personality even to the unimaginative
Turks. This mountain is called the “Pilgrim Father,”
Hadji-Baba; and it is a striking feature in the view from
all Southern and Central Lycaonia, until one crosses the
ridges of Boz-Dagh, behind which it is concealed from
view; but if the traveller continues to go north, it emerges
1 The road by Ambararassi is distinctly longer than the railway line.
2That was the case when I saw it in 1890; but old walls are frequently
pulled down, and sold as building material; the price passes into the pocket
of officials [an isolated case of local resistance to such jobs, by a Protestant
native, is described in Impressions of Turkey, p. 233].
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St. Paul’s Roan’ from Ci/ieia to [eoninrn 295

again after some distance and rises sharp over the long low
line of the Boz-Dagh as one looks back from the higher
ground in Northern Lycaonia. As is usual with photo-
graphs, the effect of its height is dwarfed in Fig. 33.
Near Derbe on the east, close to the road, lies a tomb-
stone with a dedication to Paul the Martyr. The Christians
of the district regard this stone as a proof that Paul visited
the place, but are ignorant that it is the site of Derbe. The
place was deserted, and the tradition perished 1 (see Fig. 38
on p. 322). A view of the deserted site is given in the
Church in the Roman Empire, page 5 5, and is here repeated.
The Byzantine ruins shown in the photograph (Fig. 34)
have all been pulled down to get building material for the
new village.
There are at least three cities or settlements connected
with Derbe: the Greek and early Roman Derbe on a
mound in the plain, the late Roman and Byzantine city at
Bossala and Losta, and an early hill-fort high above the
plain on a peak of Taurus (west of the Pilgrim Father), a
view in which is shown in Fig. 35.
The great Roman Imperial road during the first century
went north-west from Derbe, entered the Isaurian hills after
a few miles, and reached Lystra in the most northerly valley
of those hills, about twenty-five miles from Derbe. From
Lystra it went to Pisidian Antioch, passing a few miles to
the south-west of Iconium, with which it was connected by
a side—road. As one approaches from Derbe, the first
glimpse of Lystra and Khatyn Serai, “Lady’s Mansion,”
the modern village a mile south-east of the ancient site, is
picturesque with trees and greenery to a degree rare in
Lycaonia (Fig. 36). The hill of Lystra, very similar to the
1 The modern village is a recent erection by refugees from Roumelia.
296 X]

site of Derbe, is shown in Fig. 37, taken from the Church
in the Ron-tan Empire, page 47, where a description is given
(as also by Rev. H. S. Cronin in journal of Hellenic Studies,
1904)
But the importance of Iconium was far too great to
allow it to remain on a mere branch-road. Lystra was only
a hill town, whose sole claim to importance was that it had
been selected as a Roman garrison and colony at the time
when the Pisidian and Isaurian mountaineers were a press-
ing danger. When that danger passed away, not even the
honour of a Roman colony could maintain its consequence
in the country. Even Derbe was only a second-rate city.
Iconium was the natural and inevitable metropolis of Western
and Central Lycaonia. Derbe and Lystra therefore passed
out of the system of Roman roads, and the line of com-
munication went direct from metropolis to metropolis, from
Laranda by Pyrgos to Iconium, across the level plain.
About half-way, or a mile beyond half—way, is a low ridge,
from which the traveller gets the first view of Iconium.
Straight behind the city rises a remarkable conical peak,
about 2,000 feet above the level of the plain, called Takali
by the Turks, Dakalias by the Saracens in the ninth century,
and St. Philip by the Greeks at the present day. If we
now look back towards Laranda, the Pilgrim Father attracts
and fills the view. As we look east the Kara-Dagh shuts
out everything else from sight. Away to the north of
Iconium, above Laodicea (Ladik), and screening it from
view is a massive peak, conspicuous alike from the south
and the north. In Byzantine times all these doubtless got
Christian titles; but long before that they were probably
considered to be the guardians of the land. The belief in
the divinity of mountains is as natural as in the divinity of
Tojarc 296.
PLATE XXX.
_-- ‘P—
I -_-—-—-_-. _-

t ‘>7
.1 ,‘ x’
See 295.
P10. 36.—-Distant View of Khatyn-Serai and Lystra from the South-East (Mrs. \/V. M. Ramsay).
St. Paul’s Road from Cilieia to [eoninrn 297

rivers, and is attested for the Anatolian land. Argaios
towers over Caesareia-Mazaka and is represented on all
the city-coins. Mount Viaros (probably the tall peak of
Egerdir) is a common type on coins of Prostanna.
Those four mountains of Western Lycaonia are the most
prominent and imposing,1 and the Christian names of three
are known or can be guessed. The Christians celebrate a
Panegyris of Araba Georgi, St. George of the Car, near the
peak over Ladik annually on 23rd April; and there as the
story goes, “at dawn water and milk flow in a dry place”
(see p. 188). St. Philip still dominates Iconium, and the
Greeks hold a Panegyris there on 24th November. Hadji-
Baba may be taken as a Turkish rendering of a title de-
scribing the travelling Apostle Paul as the guardian of
Derbe. We remember how Ephesus extended from St.
Paul by the sea to St. john on the eastern hill; and we
may look for similar cases in many parts of Anatolia. The
Christian names exemplify the permanence of older religious
feeling under Christian forms (Article VI.).
A mile farther on towards Iconium the road descends a
hundred feet to a river which flows from the heart of the
Isaurian mountains, and is lost in the plain north-east of
Kara-Dagh. The water of the Lystra Valley would flow
into it, if it could reach so far; but it is dissipated in the
plain and used up for irrigation or to supply the villages.
The Arabs called this stream Nahr-el-Ahsa, the River of
Subterranean Waters. This is doubtless a reference to the
fact that the water of the great lake Trogitis (Seidi-Sheher-
Giol) was formerly brought into it by a cutting through the
1They are not the loftiest, but they dominate'the plain. Ala-Dagh is
loftier than Hadji-Baba, and Elenkilit than the other three; but both are far
from the plain, in the heart of mountainous districts.
298 - )Kl

rock. The purpose of this cutting was partly to keep the
lake low and set free a large tract of fertile soil for agriculture,
partly to supply water for irrigating the great plain of Iconium.
The latter project has been revived in recent years, and the
engineers who surveyed the route for connecting the lake
with the river discovered the old cutting, which is now
blocked. In 1905 the water of the lake Trogitis rose so
high that villages and a great deal of cultivated land around
it were submerged. From the bridge which carries the
road over this river it is about twenty-four miles to Iconium,
whose acropolis is crowned with the church of St. AmphiL
ochius (Plate 111., p. 170).
Between Iconium and Derbe lies a region rich beyond
all others in early monuments of Christian art. Four ex-
amples are given in Figs. 7 (p. 162), 9 (p. 216), 14 (p. 300),
31 (p. 322) and 39 (facing p. 1), taken from Miss Ramsay’s
article on Early Christian Art in this region, Studies in the
History and Art of t/ze Eastern Provinces, 1906, pp. 23, 34,
38,54,61.
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XII
THE AUTHORSHIP OF THE ACTS

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XII
THE AUTHORSHIP OF THE ACTS
RECENTLY a friend, in whose judgment I place great con-
fidence, remarked in a letter to me that Dr. McGiffert’s
book on the Hz'sz‘olg/ 0f Chrz'sz‘z'ahz'z‘y in Me Apos‘z‘alz'c A
contained the ‘most powerful .statement known to him of
the view that the Ads of Zhe Apm‘z‘ies could not have been
written by Luke, the friend and pupil of St. Paul; and he
urged that I should state clearly and precisely the attitude
which I hold towards the argument so ably stated by the
distinguished American Professor. The very fact that in
several important points, such as the Galatian question, Dr.
McGiffert has come to the same opinion as I hold, makes
the difference between us as regards authorship all the more
marked; and, as the Editor also asks me to write a review
of this important book, it seems advisable to state why I
remain unconvinced by its arguments against the Lukan
authorship. It is rather confusing that Luke is spoken of
as “the author” in many pages of Dr. IVIcGiffert’s book;
but this is merely done for brevity, and the Professor is
most clear and emphatic in denying the Lukan authorship.
The judgment which has been quoted in my opening
sentence may be taken as a proof that the book is character-
ised by deep study and knowledge, long deliberation, and
remarkable dialectical skill. I do not, however, intend to
(am)
302 X]]

write a review of the book as a whole; but content myself
with a brief statement of the strong qualities shown in it.
I should mention, as an example of the book at its best,
the defence of the Pauline authorship of the Epistle to the
Colossians, which is an admirably concise and powerful piece
of reasoning. And there occur many other similar passages,
some of which critics may rank higher than the one which
I have selected. The same qualities appear everywhere
throughout the book. It will, however, be better to confine
myself to one subject—the authorship of the Acts of the
Apostles (with which of course goes the Third Gospel).
Dr. McGiffert goes over the book of Acts paragraph by
paragraph, dissecting every statement ; and with remorseless
logic piles up argument upon argument. The cumulative
effect of these is to show such a series of erroneous state-
ments in the book as are absolutely inconsistent with the
idea that the writer could have been an intimate friend of
Paul and of other actors, or himself an actor, in the events
described. The book of Acts is pronounced to be a second-
hand work throughout: and the proper and only profitable
method of historical study and criticism in reference to it is
found to be an analysis of its sources.
On any theory as to the authorship of Acts and the Third
Gospel, the question of sources is one of great importance.
The author is almost universally admitted to be a Greek, a
stranger to Palestine (which he knew only from a visit),
probably born after many of the events which he records
had occurred; and he expressly states that many written
accounts of the period treated in his First Book (i.e., the
Third Gospel) were known to him. The question as to his
sources is of prime consequence ; and we all admit that some
of his sources were written. But I have been concerned to
The Authorship of the Acts 303

maintain that great part of Acts is not dependent on written
sources, but is partly gathered from the mouths and from
the oral accounts of actors (especially Paul), and partly
written down from personal knowledge (in which case the
author uses the first personal form of narrative). The
author’s view as a whole throughout the book is, as I main-
tain, Paul’s view; and in great part of it we must trace the
hand of a pupil of Paul’s, accustomed to hear Paul’sppinion
and to be largely, almost entirely, guided by it. But, in
certain cases, I think that statements resting on other au-
thority are admitted: in chaps. i. and ii. traces of popular
traditions are visible, in chap. xii. 12 it is distinctly given
the reader to understand that john Mark was the authority:
the comparison of viii. 40 with xxi. 8, 10 gives an equally
distinct hint that Philip was the authority for chap. viii.
In the Ephesian narrative, chap. xix., I recognise probably
a statement of popular Asian belief in verses 11-19, and in
verses 1h-7 a narrative of non-Pauline tone, intended by an
admirer of Paul to bring out that Apollos was indebted to
Paul’s teaching (conveyed through Aquila and Priscilla) for
a great advance in his spiritual knowledge and power: the
author was fully aware of Apollos’ gifts and grace, but he
was clearly desirous that it should be known that these
were acquired only after Apollos had come in contact with
Pauline influence. I cannot recognise any hint conveyed
by the author as to the source of his narrative about Peter;
but probably a better knowledge of the author’s life and
circumstances would reveal some hint as plain as that in
xii. 12, or that which lies in the comparison of viii. 40 and
xxi. 8, 10. -
These may serve as examples to show how it would be
possible to draw out a detailed argument that the author of
304 X[[

Acts, while sharing the general carelessness of ancient his—
torians as to stating precisely their sources of information,
does nevertheless suggest intentionally to the reader in
various cases the idea that definite persons were the authori-
ties for certain statements. Further, the author’s style marks
the difference between those parts where he had been a wit-
ness and those where he was dependent on the reports of
others. Studied according to the canons of criticism which
govern.the study of the ordinary classical authors, Acts must
be recognised as a work in which the expression is perfectly
clear and natural in the person to whose pen it is attributed
by tradition, and is unexplained and unintelligible in any
other person. Further, the tradition makes clear the genesis
of much of the book, and enables the reader to follow back
most of the statements to their exact source. In the case of
any ordinary classical author, this line of reasoning would be
treated as conclusive, and the inference would never have
been doubted. The literary history of the book in its growth
stands before us clear, simple, self-consistent and harmonious
with the facts known from other sources,1 provided one does
not twist it, or squeeze it, or thrust into it such absurdities
as the N orth-Galatian theory (pardonable and hardly avoid-
able when Phrygia and Galatia were unknown lands, but
now persisting only through the strength of prejudice).
From the literary point of view, the proper object of
study is the author, his attitude towards his sources, and his
method of using them; and I believe that that method of
study is the most profitable as regards Acts, as is recognised
1 That difficulties remain to be elucidated and obscurities to be illumi-
nated, I have always declared; but that is universal in classical literature,
and the discovery of new documents, while solving many old questions, adds
continually to the number of difficult points in all departments of ancient
scholarship.
The Authorship 0f Z/ze Acts 305

in the case of every other book. But the “ Source-Theory,”
as one may term it, turns the study of that book into a mere
analysis of Sources; it proceeds as if the author’s method
and personality had no significance except as acause of error,
and makes it a fundamental principle that the one and only
important question in every case is whether the author had
a good or a bad, an early or a later, Source for every state-
ment.
Dr. McGiffert has not convinced me: in other words, I
think his clever argumentation is sophistical. In examining
it, I should like as much as possible to concentrate attention
on the impersonal aspect as a problem in history; and, to
avoid obtruding the personal reference on the reader, it will
be better to speak as far as possible of “ the Source-Theory,”
meaning always the special form set forth in the work under
review. Dr. lVIcGiffert and I are desirous of reaching the
truth, starting from different sides.
A true critical instinct makes Dr. lVIcGiffert recoil from
the extremest form of the “Source-Theory”. The funda-
mental difference between the Source-Theory and the liter-
ary method of study is that, wherever any characteristic
is observed in the book, the former attributes it to the
“Source,” while the latter sees in it an example of the
author’s method and style in using his sources. Take, for
example, the transition from the name Saul to the name
Paul during the interview with Sergius Paulus (Acz‘s xiii. 4
ff.). Dr. McGiffert rightly says, on page 176, that in this
case “the author, with the instinct of a true historian, evi-
dently felt the significance” of the interview. On the other
hand, many scholars see there only the transition from a
“ Source,” in which the Apostle was called by the name Saul,
to another “Source,” in which he was called Paul. New
20
306 X]]

what authority have we for the confidence (which Dr.
McGiffert rightly entertains) that the author of A515 “felt
the significance” of the situation? What reason is there for
rejecting the theory that the peculiar constitution of the text
at this point springs simply from the “ Sources”? Our only
ground is the literary instinct which recognises with absolute
and unfaltering force that here the author is not dominated
by his sources, but dominates them and moulds them into a
powerful narrative, showing the hand of a master, not of a
mere editor.
On the other hand, we find the statement on page 257,
“There are certain features in his report of Paul’s stay in
Athens which can be explained only on the supposition that
he had in his hand an older document which he followed in
the main quite closely”. But we search in vain for any
reasoning to prove that the literary skill which was recog-
nised in the Paphian episode was inadequate to frame the
Athenian narrative out of information which the author re-
ceived and moulded to his own purposes. It is simply
assumed that, because the narrative is at this point generally
trustworthy, therefore it uses “an older document”. The
same assumption is made time after time in the course of
the keen scrutiny to which the narrative of Ads is subjected.
In this scrutiny, as a rule, the “Source-Theory” starts by
begging the whole question; and the admission which has
just been quoted from page 176 is a temporary divergence
from the regular method.
It is a rule of criticism that when a theory of authorship
is propounded, the supposed author must be a conceivable
and natural personality. It is not admissible to make the
imagined author in one place of one character, and in
another to attribute to him different qualities. But this
The Authorship of the Acts 307

compiler of Acts is never presented to us as a self-consistent
and possible and imaginable character. Inconsistent and
contradictory qualities are assigned to him. “ He was keenly
alive to the dramatic possibilities of the position in which
the Apostle found himself placed” at Athens (p. 257); but
he sternly resisted the temptation to work up those possi~
bilities in a way contrary to the real facts recorded in his
sources. Now, only a person endued with considerable
literary feeling and historical sympathy is able to be “ keenly
alive to the dramatic possibilities” of a situation in past
time and in a strange country; and only a person who has a
strong sense of veracity will resist the temptation to touch
up the situation whose possibilities he is so keenly alive to,
and will rigorously deny himself the slightest embellishing
touch which does not stand in the record. Yet this person
did not shrink from the most shameless and stupid mendacity
in other cases: he found in two “Sources” accounts of a
visit of Paul to jerusalem, and he thought they described
two separate visits, and invented a whole chapter of false
history in order to work in the second visit which his
stupidity had conjured up: 1 he invented a Decree (or rather
made up a Decree from real materials which belonged to
another time and situation), and placed this Decree in the
mouth of the Apostles assembled at jerusalem (xv. 22-29):
he invented, without justification or suitability, two sentences
(xix. 28, 29), which he put in Paul’s mouth in the same in-
cident where otherwise he showed such self-denial and
rigorous adherence to truth and the record; and so on in
endless succession. How reconcile these contradictions?
Who is this author, who shows at once such literary feeling
and such helplessness in literary expression, such scrupulous
1 See below, p. 310 f., on this point, and p. 311 on the Decree.
308 X[[

veracity and such unscrupulous disregard to truth? Who is
it that sometimes transfers to his pages fragments of a
“Source” more awkwardly than the feeblest Byzantine com-
piler, for he forgets to change a first person to a third, at
another time selects and remodels till he has constructed a
narrative which shows “the instinct of a true historian,”
“keenly alive to the dramatic possibilities of the situation”?
The charge is frequently brought against the author of
Acts that he gives a false picture of Paul’s sphere of work in
the cities of Asia, Galatia, Macedonia and Achaia, describ-
ing Paul’s work as conducted largely among the jews,
whereas Paul’s own words show that it was mainly among
the Gentiles. This is not taken by the critics as a proof of
mendacity: but as simply the result of ignorance; and the
inference is that, if the author had really been a friend of
Paul, he would have known better. It is indisputable that
in Acts the reader’s attention is always pointedly drawn to
Paul’s work among the jews. Dr. McGiffert draws from this
the inference that the author knew no better. Mr. Baring-
Gould, on the contrary (as we shall see in the following
article), draws the inference that Paul misstated or misjudged
the facts, when he represents himself as the Apostle of the
Gentiles. To me it seems that Luke, while devoting most
space to the account of Paul’s work among the jewish part
of his audiences, makes it clear that the Gentiles were vastly
more numerous than the Jews in the Churches of Galatia,
Thessalonica,1 Asia, etc. I find no such contradiction be-
tween Paul and Acts as Dr. McGiffert does. Paul speaks
more of the Gentiles and to the Gentiles, because they were
the most numerous, but usually makes it quite clear that
1 The question of reading comes in here: St. Paul the Traveller, p. 235 f.
The Auihorshz'p of z‘he Acts 309
there were Jews also in the Church which he is addressing.
Luke speaks at greater length of the appeal to the Jews
because he lived through the struggle against the Jews, and
sympathised with Paul under the attacks made against him
as unfriendly to his own nation, and was keenly desirous to
prove that Paul always gave full opportunity and welcome
to the Jews in every city. Such a desire is very natural in a
personal friend of Paul ; but we see no reason why a stranger,
writing after the conflict was long past, should be so eager
to defend Paul against dead enemies and a buried enmity
and a people which had ceased in A.D. 70 to be a nation.
In this connection, take one example. In Acz‘s, Paul is
represented at Corinth as going to the Jews, and only after
their refusal, turning to the Gentiles, and doing so at first
by means of the half-way “house of a certain proselyte,
Titus Justus ”.1 But, “in Paul’s own epistles there is no
hint of any such procedure”; and his statement “is hardly
calculated to confirm Luke’s account” (p. 268). And yet,
“ it must be recognised that there are some striking points
of contact” between Luke’s and Paul’s accounts of Corinthian
affairs (p. 269). Crispus is common to both accounts; and
though Paul does not mention that his Crispus was a Jew,
“there is no reason to doubt that he is the man whose con-
version Luke reports”. Obviously Paul is not concerned to
1 It is unfortunate that the bare term “ proselyte ” is sometimes inaccur-
ately used in the book under review to desl nate a “ God—fearing ” Gentile.
In a question so delicate and so vexed, it is desirable to use the technical
term very strictly. In my St. Paul, p. 43, I used “ proselyte ” in the same
1oose way, to indicate a “ God-fearing ” person, because I had not yet defined
the terms, and added the definition in the next paragraph ; but friendly critics
pointed out that it was best to avoid absolutely this loose use of “ proselyte ”.
Titus Justus (rather Titius Justus) was not a “ proselyte,” but only one of
the “ God-fearing” Gentiles, who had been attracted to the circle of the
Synagogue.
310 X]]

mention the nationality of the persons whom he names among
the Corinthians—he is entirely absorbed in a different pur-
pose; and it is mere hypercritical special pleading to argue
that Luke is inaccurate, because Paul gives no account of
the stages by which his mission in Corinth developed. If
he converted a ruler of the Synagogue (and Paul does not
himself think it necessary to mention that Crispus was so),
it is pretty clear that he must have addressed himself directly
to the Jews. He would never convert a Jew, if he addressed
only Gentiles.
But I cannot stop to show, step by step, how unfair and
sophistical the “Source-Theory” is: to do so would need
a book. I can only ask the “Source-Theorists” what
points they lay most stress on, and examine these.
Beyond a doubt, the one serious reason which must weigh
heavily with every reasoning man, and make him doubt
whether the author of Ads could have been an intimate
friend and companion of Paul, is the topic discussed on
pages 170-172, 194-201, 208-217. Paul, in his letter to the
Galatians, speaking with the strongest emphasis, and with
a solemn adjuration that he is speaking the absolute truth
—-“touching the things which I write unto you, behold,
before God, that I lie not ”—declares that in his first two
visits to Jerusalem after his conversion, he learned nothing
from the older Apostles, that he carried no message from
them to his own Churches, that they imparted nothing to
him, but merely approved of his schemes and ratified his
mission.1 Now the second visit is by most scholars identi-
1 Dr. McGiffert puts this clearly and well, p. 211: “It is a point of the
utmost significance that Paul distinctly asserts that those who were ofrepute
in the Church of Jerusalem imparted nothing to him (Gal. ii. 6) . . . in
other words, he was left entirely free by them to preach to the Gentiles ex-
actly as he had been preaching”.
The Authorship of the Acts 311

fied with the visit described in Acts xv. But, in that visit,
so far from the Apostles imparting nothing to Paul, as
he declares, they, according to Acts, were the supreme
authority to whom he referred a question for decision; they
imparted to him a Decree on this question. He carried this
Decree to his Churches, and “delivered them the Decree
for to keep, which had been ordained‘of the Apostles and
Elders that were at jerusalem” (Acts xvi. 4). Rightly and
honestly, Dr. McGiffert is revolted by this contradiction
between Paul and Acts: rightly and honestly, he refuses to
shut his eyes to it, or to whittle it away and minimise it,
and delude himself into the idea that he thereby gets rid of
it: the clear contradiction exists in a most vital and serious
matter. If Acts is right, and if the common theory is to
be followed, Paul was throwing dust in the eyes of the
Galatians; therefore, the inference is drawn that Acts is
wrong, and that the supposed Decree was never issued by
the Council, or carried by Paul to his Churches. The
“Decree” is a mere fabrication by the compiler of Acts;
or, rather, “it is impossible to suppose so peculiar a docu—
ment an invention of the author of Acts,” and, therefore,
“some historic basis for it must be assumed”. The basis
is found by supposing that it was probably made up out of
james’s speech (Acts xv. 13-21), or that it was promulgated
at some other time, and wrongly attributed by the author
to this Council (p. 212 f.).
Another difficulty exists in this connection, and the
“ Source-Theory ” is again invoked to solve it. “ It is clear
that Paul intended the Galatians to understand that during
the fourteen years1 that succeeded his conversion, he had
been in jerusalem only twice.” But in Acts three visits
1Or, as some hold (wrongly, in my opinion), seventeen years.
312 X[[

are mentioned, according to the ordinary view; and Dr.
McGiffert rightly refuses to accept the sophistical excuse
that the middle visit was only a little one, or an unim-
portant one, and might therefore be omitted by Paul, even
though he takes his oath to the Galatians that he is telling
them the absolute truth. Once more the explanation is
sought in an error of the author of Acts. He found in two
“Sources” two different accounts of the same visit, via, a
visit paid in A.D. 48, in which Paul and Barnabas carried to
jerusalem the money collected by the Antiochian Church
(Acts xi. 29), and at the same time propounded the difficulty
as to Gentile Christians for solution by the Apostles and
Elders (Acts xv.). These accounts were so different that
the author mistook them for accounts of two separate visits,
for one Source “might well be interested to record only the
generous act of the Antiochian Church, while another might
see in the settlement of the legitimacy of Gentile Christianity
the only matter worthy of mention”. Inasmuch as the
Gentile question fell immediately after the first missionary
journey, the compiler made the unhappy guess that the
money had been carried to jerusalem before that journey,
and thus falsely evolved an intermediate unhistorical visit
of Paul and Barnabas to jerusalem.
If this view hits the truth, then assuredly Acts was not
written by Luke, the friend of Paul. It is impossible that
a companion of Paul in many journeys and for many years
should be so ignorant of a most important epoch in Paul’s
life as this theory makes out. But there are difficulties
besetting the theory. We may well grant that the author
of Acts may have “found two independent accounts of the
same journey in his sources”. But these accounts would
not be divorced from all surroundings; each of them would
The A either/ship of the Acts 3 I 3

necessarily relate the events before and after, and would
make the succession of events moderately clear, for these
sources were historical narratives traversing part of the
same ground that Acts treats of. I can find no fair parallel
in literary history for a supposition so violent. One is
used to such maltreatment of history among ignorant
students, who are experimenting to discover what is the
minimum of knowledge which will be accepted for a “pass”
by an examiner. But except among the examination papers
of passmen,I have seen nothing to parallel the audacious
and shameless ignorance which is thus attributed to the com-
piler—an ignorance which might almost suggest the theory
that Acts is the rejected examination paper in history of
some iazy candidate or matriculation in an ancient Univer-
sity. The compiler is supposed by Dr. lVIcGiffert to have
written under Domitian, between 81 and 96, at a time when
one Christian had been martyred in Pergamos and none in
Smyrna,1 when many pupils and friends and associates of
Paul and the Apostles were still living, when the real facts
must have been known to great numbers of persons, and
when any doubt could have been cleared up with the
utmost ease. We are asked to believe either that the com-
piler was so extraordinarily stupid as to imagine that the
accounts of one event given in two historical narratives were
accounts of two different events, feeling no doubt, and boldly
lifting one account out of its place and thrusting it in at a
point several years earlier, or that he was so careless and
1 On the date see page 437 f. ; on the view that so few martyrs suffered in
Asia under Domitian, see page 635 (where it is apparently implied that there
had been no serious persecution in any of the seven Churches of Asia, except
the martyrdom of Antipas : that is as much as to say there had been no per-
secution in Asia, against which see Letters to the Seven Churches, ch. ix).
314 X]]

lazy that he would not test by a very easy process the
doubts which did suggest themselves to him.
While the form which is given to the “ Source-Theory”
in this work is in many respects most ingenious and able,
the early date assigned to the compilation involves the
Theory in many difficulties, which it was free from on the
old supposition of second-century authorship. But that
supposition in its turn is involved in difficulties which have
led Dr. McGiffert to abandon it.
My own theory of the visits to Jerusalem—“that the
second visit of A cts is the second visit as described by Paul
in Galatians ii. 1 ff, and that the third visit of Acts lies out~
side of Paul’s argument (because he is merely discussing
what was his original message to the Galatians, whether of
God or from the Apostles, whereas the third visit did not
occur till after the Galatians were converted)—-is briefly
dismissed as impossible on page 172 note. The reason is
noteworthy: “The discussion recorded in Acts xv. can
have taken place only on the occasion which Paul describes
in Gal. ii. 1 $9.,” and neither earlier nor later. We ask
how and where Dr. McGiffert acquires the knowledge of
that obscure period which enables him to pronounce so
absolutely that, on a subject which (unless Acts is hope-
lessly wrong) was debated for years with much bitterness,
the particular discussion mentioned in Acts xv. can have
occurred only in A.D. 48 and at no other time. His
authority is Acts itself, an authority which he discredits at
almost every point to some greater or less degree; yet from
this poor authority he can gather absolute certainty as to
the exact period when alone one discussion of this much-
debated topic can have occurred. The fact is that unless
Acts is accepted as a good authority, we must resign our-
The Authorship of the Acts 315

selves to be ignorant about the Apostolic period, and must
cease to make any dogmatic statements as to what is possible
or impossible.
Every reader must be struck with the enormous part
that is played in the discussion of the Acts of the Apostles
by the argument from the author’s silence. Wherever we
learn from any other source of any incident or detail, how-
ever slight it may be, which is not recorded in Acts, the
inference is almost always drawn that the author was
ignorant of it, or rather that he had an inadequate or in—
accurate “Source”. For example, in the Athenian narra-
tive “his account betrays a lack of familiarity with some
of the events that transpired at this period” (p. 2 57); and
yet the author here “followed in the main quite closely” a
document, which is stated in the following pages to be old
and trustworthy. Moreover, the author “was keenly alive
to the dramatic possibilities of the position in which the
Apostle found himself placed”; which implies a high
degree of historical insight and sympathy. Here, then,
we have a case in which an author, who possessed great
literary and historical power, and had access to a good and
early authority of Athenian origin, is pronounced ignorant
of certain minntin of the going and coming of Timothy,
because he does not enumerate them. Surely the sup-
position should here be entertained that he thought these
rninntice too unimportant to deserve enumeration in a
highly compressed history of the developing force of Chris-
tianity within the Roman Empire.
Many critics seem to have failed utterly to realise that
the author of Acts is not a biographer but a historian, that
he selects the points which are important in his conception
of the developing Church, and stands quite apart from little
316 X[[

details regarding the precise number of times that Timothy
went back and forward between Achaia and Macedonia.
It is enough that the author says nothing that is contra-
dictory of what Paul mentions in writing to the Thessalo-
nians (as is frankly conceded on p. 257); beyond that it is
mere pedantic niggling to insist that, if the author had
known how many times Timothy went to and fro, he must
have told it.
It is impossible in a necessarily short paper to touch on
every point raised as regards Acts. But I have taken those
which seemed most characteristic. Let me add one only.
On page 280 f. the Ephesian residence is discussed. From
the word used by Paul himself, “I fought-with-beasts at
Ephesus” (édnpcoudxnoa, 1 Cor. xv. 32), it is inferred that
the Apostle had been condemned to death, exposed to wild
beasts in the amphitheatre, and escaped in some way from
death. This penalty could only be inflicted by the supreme
official of the province, the Proconsul ; and therefore it is
maintained that “ an uproar resulted, and he was arrested
and condemned to death as the cause of it”; the Proconsul
had the power, “when the contest in the arena did not
result fatally, to set him free”. As Dr. McGiffert rather
humorously observes, “doubtless he was convinced that
Paul would avoid creating any more disturbances”.
When Paul recounts to the Corinthians his sufferings,
2 Cor. xi. 23 f., he did not think it worth while to mention
that most remarkable of all escapes and dangers, though he
mentions many far less striking and impressive, because he
had already mentioned it in the first Epistle, and it“ may
have seemed unnecessary to do so in the second”. Why
not apply the “Source-Theory” here? The two Epistles
use different Sources!
The Authorship 0f the Acts 317

I need not discuss such a shadowy and hypothetical
substitute for the realistic and impressive narrative of Acts.1
I venture to doubt if any two scholars in the whole of
Europe will accept this interpretation of the fundamental
word “fought-with-beasts”. The sketch of the supposed
trial and condemnation and fight in the amphitheatre and
pardon is too false to Roman habits of administration, and
to the surroundings of Epheso-Roman society, to have any
claim to be taken seriously. It is simply a blot upon a
very clever and learned book.
The conclusion from a long examination of the Ephesian
incident is that “it is impossible to discover a satisfactory
reason for the omission of ” so many occurrences as are
known to us from Paufs own words, or why the author
failed to relate the events which were of most interest and
concern to Paul himself (p. 28 3), except that his “Sources”
are to blame. But why was Luke bound to guide his
history according to the thread of interest which guided
Paul in writing to the Corinthians? Paul was arranging
his topics to suit the special circumstances of the Corinthian
Church; Luke was arranging his history according to his
idea of the real importance of the topics.
This method of studying the Acts, and distinguishing
between what is true and what is false or only half-true
in it, is generally practised with a view to eliminate the
“miraculous” element, and leave a solid basis of non-
miraculous facts. The miraculous element is, undoubtedly,
a serious difficulty; but no honest process of criticism can
get rid of it. It is implicated in the inmost structure of the
1 Dr. McGiffert himself says about part of it, “ The general trustworthi-
ness of Luke’s account cannot be questioned. The occurrence is too true to
life and is related in too vivid a way to permit a doubt as to its historic reality ”
(p. 282).
318 X]]

whole New Testament, and in the very nature of the men
who wrote its books. Dr. McGiffert sees clearly and
frankly recognises that the miraculous element cannot be
expelled from Acts; that Paul, and his contemporaries, and
the oldest and best “Sources” of Acts, all believe and
accept and record miraculous events and miraculous powers.
He leaves the marvellous element in Acts.
Accordingly, the miraculous healing of the lame man at
Lystra “is too striking and unique to have been invented”
(p. 189). Some of the accompaniments, however, are pro-
nounced doubtful. There are analogies to Acts iii. 2 ff.
and x. 26; and the words of xiv. 15m; “are much like
Paul’s words in his address to the Athenians recorded in
the seventeenth chapter of Acts”. Therefore these touches
are declared to result from the author’s feeling “the in-
fluence of other accounts given elsewhere in his work”. If
I understand this phrase rightly, it means that the author
could not resist the temptation of touching up his narrative
here by introducing words and details from other incidents
belonging to other years and countries. This is the same
author, who, as we saw, so sternly resisted the temptation
to touch up his narrative at Athens (except the speech of
Paul, which he did embellish).
Moreover, when we turn to the passages which are said
to have furnished the materials which are worked up in the
Lystran incident, we find that they also have themselves
been touched up, and are not pure, unadulterated early
sources. How marvellous is the unerring art which can
distinguish every layer in this complicated construction, and
can determine how far the Lystran incident is taken from
a good and trustworthy source, what details are added, from
what secondary source each added detail is derived, what is
The A nthorshit of the Acts 319

the character of the secondary sources, and what elements
in them are good and what are bad! But this elaborate
process is not recognised as permissible by profane historical
critics: it is too clever for us.
The term “an older source” is used in a very vague way,
which defies strict analysis, throughout the book. Where-
ever there is found in Acts any fact which can be accepted
as true, it is .attributed to the use by the author of “an
older source”. As the author was not the pupil and friend
of Paul, we get the general impression that his authorities
about events, none of which were known to him on his own
authority as an actor in them,1 were partly older and good,
and partly later and bad.
With this classification of the authorities in our mind,
we turn to page 647 ff. There we find that the term “the
Apostles” is used by the author of Acts in a peculiar and
narrow sense, via, denoting the primitive body of Twelve
Apostles (to whom Paul is added as an equal, though of
later appointment); whereas “in the Gospels of Matthew,
Mark, and john, and in the Epistle of Barnabas,” as well
as in the Apocalypse and the Didache, the term “Apostles”
is used in a broader sense (which was the common use of
the word, while the original Apostles are “the Twelve”).
“In the book of Acts, on the other hand, the broader
meaning appears only twice (xiv. 4, I4), and that apparently
under the influence of an older source.” In contrast to that
“older source,” the ordinary Lukan use of Apostles in the
narrower meaning of “the Twelve” with Paul, is, as We
must understand, under the influence of a later source. This
“later source” was, however, of strongly Pauline character,
for the narrower sense occurs during the first century “only
1On that point Dr. McGiffert is quite clear and emphatic.
320 X[[
A
in the writings of Paul himself, and of those authors who
had felt his influence”. Now the “older sources” described
events in almost every stage of Paul’s life, and therefore
those on which chapters xiii. to xxviii. were founded can
hardly have been written before A.D. 60-70. The “later
source” is closely connected with Paul and under his in-
fluence, and, as it was employed by an author who composed
his history between A.D. 80 and 95, it must have been
written as early as A.D. 70-80. The distinction is remark-
ably subtle between the two classes of “source,” and does
great credit to the acumen of the scholar, who can preserve
his balanced judgment as he walks along this sharp knife—
edge, and can unhesitatingly distinguish between the older
and the later source.
In the time of Bentley it was a proof of genius, a matter
requiring great acuteness and wide knowledge, to distin-
guish, as earlier and later, between works whose time of
composition was divided by centuries. In the present
century, after discussion and minute examination by many
generations of scholars, opinions vary widely as to the period
to which many works belong. The Nux is taken by some
critics for a youthful work of Ovid, while others would refer
it to a time after Ovid’s death. One of the greatest of
modern scholars considers that the Epicedion Drusi was
composed in the fifteenth century after Christ; many be-
lieve that it was written in the first century before Christ
immediately after the death of Drusus (B.C. 9).
But, although the original works are lost, the “Source-
Theorist” decides with unhesitating confidence whether
the source for some half-sentence or half-paragraph of
Luke is old, dating from 60-70, or later, dating from
A.D. 70-80. We humble students of history cannot come up
The A uthoecshzj't 0f the Acts 32 1

to such skill as that ; and we are so rude and barbarous as
to smile at it and disbelieve in it. We think that, if the
“Source-Theorists” had spent twenty years in the school
of Mommsen and the great pagans, instead of among the
theologians, they would see that they are attempting an
impossibility, and would be as much amused at it as we
profane scholars are. All theories of Acts, except one,
result in hopeless confusion.
We have in Dr. McGiffert’s work a book which shows
many very great qualities, and which might have ranked
among the small number of really good books, if it had not
been spoiled by a bad theory as to the fundamental docu-
ment, on which it must rest. But it will do good service in
bringing home to us that, if the author was Duke, then the
acknowledged difficulties in Acts must not be solved by the
theory of insufficient information. Whom should we look
to for knowledge of Paul, if not to Luke, his companion in
so many captivities and journeys (the times when Paul
would be least occupied with the daily cares of preaching.
and teaching)? Those who contend for Lukan authorship
must deny themselves the easy cure of inadequate know-
ledge. There was abundant opportunity for Luke to acquire
exact information, if on any point he lacked it, for intercom-
munication was the life of the early Church, and numerous
witnesses were living. Dr. McGiffert has destroyed that
error, if an error can be destroyed.
21



7NOVN NO
KAIOV AA
PIOC €l<OC§¢
‘MHCANTTéJV
/\ONTON rig/w
rYPANg
/\
' ' ' ' ' '5” a 1'
Paul the Martyr of Derbe (see p. 295).

XIII
A STUDY OF ST. PAUL BY MR. BARING-
GOULD
)(III
A STUDY OF ST. PAUL BY MR. 'BARING-
GOULD
IN my St. Paul the T meet/er a conception of Paul’s char-
acter is stated, which seems to me to be so patent in the
narrative of Acts, that it must have been the conception
entertained by the author. My aim in that book was
rather to show clearly what was Luke’s conception of Paul
than to state my own views of the Apostle’s character;
though, to a certain extent, my own conception necessarily
tinges the picture. The attempt was, of course, a delicate
and difficult one; it is founded on a certain theory of
Luke’s own character and action, and partakes of the un-
certainty that attaches to that theory. The evidence of
the Epistles is interpreted according to my conception of
the situation, as they would appear to Paul’s contempo-
raries, not as they appear to us in the nineteenth century.
This whole process is so delicate that the opportunity of
weighing and pondering over a conception of the Apostle’s
character, formed by one who takes much the same view as
I do of the historical facts and incidents and dates, is
valuable; and I am indebted to Mr. Baring-Gould for
several good ideas1 and much interest; but also I must
confess that I have often felt repelled by the way he belittles
1 E.g., that the loss of the offerings of the “ God-fearing,” whom Paul
tempted away from the synagogues, annoyed the Jews (p. 180, etc.).
(325)
326 X]]]

and (in my opinion) misrepresents a great man. The
passage at foot of page 327 is a libel on Paul: “Paul is
thoroughly Oriental in his indifference to the welfare and
sufferings of the brute creation. . . . He imputes to the
Almighty the same insensibility to pity and care for the
dumb beast that he possessed.”
Mr. Baring—Gould defines his aim in this book as follows :
“The line I have adopted is that of a man of the world, of
a novelist with some experience of life, and some acquaint-
ance with the springs of conduct that actuate mankind”;
and he describes the novelist as “one who seeks to sound
the depths of human nature, to probe the very heart of man,
to stand patiently at his side with finger on pulse. He
seeks to discover the principles that direct man’s action, to
watch the development of his character, and to note the
influence that surroundings have on the genesis of his ideas
and the formation of his convictions.”
The programme was quite fascinating to one who, like
myself, has attempted (in a humbler way and on a less am-
bitious plan than Mr. Baring-Gould) “to take Church His-
tory for a moment out of the hands of the theologians,”
and treat it on freer lines. I have none of the prejudice,
which he anticipates, against a novelist’s attempt to under-
stand and depict the mind of Paul. On the contrary, the
most illuminative page that I have ever read about the
central scene of Paul’s life, that scene whose interpretation
determines our whole conception of Paul’s work, the appear-
ance of Jesus to him “as he drew nigh unto Damascus,” is
in a tale by another novelist, Owen Rhoscomyl.1 Hence
I welcome the application of Mr. Baring-Gould’s method, as
he defines it, to the personality of Paul. He has, however,
1 This illuminative page is quoted in The Education of Christ, p. 9 f.
A .S'z‘ua'y of St. Paul 6y Mr. Baring-Gould 327

not given himself fair play. Instead of trying simply to
present his own view to the reader, he tries too much to
correct the views of others ; he lays so much stress on those
sides of Paul’s character which have, in his opinion, been
too little regarded, that his picture of the Apostle is one-
sided. The qualities on which he insists, and to which he
returns with painful frequency, are so unpleasant that the
character which he sets before us is repulsive and almost
detestable. It is rare that any sentence is devoted to the
good or great qualities of Paul’s mind.1 His blunders, his
failures, his weaknesses, his domineering nature, fill up most
of the book. Mr. Baring-Gould knows that he was even a
bad workman (p. 296).
My objection to Mr. Gould’s book as a whole is, not that
it is a novelist’s view, but that it is 7202‘ a novelist’s View. I
have not been able to feel that he presents Paul as an intelli-
gible character, clearly understood by the author, and there-
fore easily recognisable by the reader ; and he leaves Paul’s
work and influence more completely a riddle than before.
One seems in this book to see two Pauls, sometimes coalesc-
ing more or less into a single picture, sometimes separate
f;om one another, as if one were looking through a badly
focussed optical instrument; and neither of the figures of
Paul, which thus dance before one’s eyes, seems to suit the
work and life that are shown us in Ads and the Epzkz‘les.
The author describes his aim in the words, “I treat the
great Apostle as a man ”. I went to the book, hoping to
find a man there. I found much that was interesting; I
found a View so different from my own that it was bound to
be instructive by forcing me to try to understand the causes
which had produced it. But Ido not find in it a man: I
1 Examples on pp. 127, 434, 436 f.
328 X!!!

find a conception, half double, half single, like the Siamese
twins. Now, as I have been requested, I shall state the
reasons for this opinion, though I feel as if it were ungrateful
to do so, after the kind terms in which he has referred to my
work on the subject. Iwould not have promised to write
this paper, had I not thought at first that it was likely to be
far more laudatory than it is.
Briefly, I may say at the beginning that on almost all
the main controversies as to the facts of Paul’s life, I find
myself in agreement, or nearly so, with Mr. Baring-Gould.
It is in the general conception that he does not persuade
me. I do not insist that I am right, and I am eager to
study any View that differs from mine, but I feel very sure
that his view is not right, because it fails to make history
intelligible.
To make Mr. Gould’s position clear, it should also be
mentioned that the author accepts all the Epistles attri-
buted to Paul as his genuine work, and as divinely inspired
Writings, and that he is fully convinced of the miraculous
character of Paul’s conversion. He accepts the Divine ele-
ment in the narrative of the early Church, holding “that to
eliminate that is to misconceive the story of Paul altogether”.
But he is “ indisposed to obtrude the Divine and miraculous,
Wherever the facts” can be explained Without such a sup-
position.
Before criticising details, I will quote what I thought
one of the best passages in the book: “ As the moon has
one face turned away from earth, looking into infinity, a
face we never see, so it is with the mystic. In him there is
the spiritual face—mysterious, inexplicable, but one with
which we must reckon. And this it is that makes it so
difficult to properly interpret the man of a constitution like
A Stuafi/ of St. Paul hy Mr. Baring—Gould 329

Paul. We have to allow for a factor in his composition
that escapes investigation” (p. I 38).
We must try to put shortly the character of the man
Paul according to Mr. Baring-Gould, and it will be best to
do so as much as possible in his own words. The central
point in his theory is thus stated: “The generally enter-
tained idea of St. Paul as the Apostle to the Gentiles,
preaching to the unconverted, drawing the net of the Church
in untried waters, must be greatly modified. He did not
carry the Gospel to the heathen, though he certainly travelled
among them” (p. 417, compare I48, 435, etc).
Paul was, it seems, rarely able to persuade others fully
as to his sincerity or his authority as an Apostle. “Ob-
viously the Apostles did not altogether trust Paul’s account
of his vision seen at Antioch. They thought he had un-
wittingly coloured it to suit his own wishes ” (p. 121). “It
must be allowed that he possessed a faculty of giving these
matters a partial aspect, and embroidering them to suit his
purpose, which is calculated, if not to awake suspicion, at
all events to call forth reserve” (p. 122). “ Were they (i.e.,
the elder Apostles) to accept the assurance of a man of whom
all they knew was that he was a weather-cock in his religious
opinions, and that in a matter of supreme importance?”
Extreme and ill-regulated statements of this kind prevent
the author from achieving a fair presentation of his own
case, and will tend to prevent the good points in the book
from being appreciated.
Further, the author seems sometimes almost to doubt if
Paul had any faith in his mission. For example, on page
239, he asks, “could Paul have thought, could these shallow
sciolists have conceived it possible, that the badly expressed
words in which he professed his convictions would outlast
330 X]]]

and overmaster all their cobweb-spinning, and that, in a
few years, deep into the rock where Paul stood and received
their jeers, the cross would be cut?” I should have be-
lieved that Paul thought, and was even firmly convinced,
that his words would last; but Mr. Gould apparently leads
up to a negative answer.
The reasons why Paul could never convert any of the
Gentiles, except certain God-fearing proselytes who had
been already half-converted by the Jews, were various; but
the chief were, first, his ignorance and utter want of educa-
tion in anything except the narrowest and straightest Judaic
legal teaching; secondly, his utter inability to argue.
As to Paul’s ignorance of all things Greek, except a
certain fluent command of a vulgar provincial dialect, so
bad that it made. his language in speaking a subject for
contempt and ridicule in Athens and Corinth (p. 226,
etc), Mr. Gould speaks with remarkable emphasis in various
passages.
Paul had been altogether outside the circle of Greek
studies; and had no knowledge of Greek philosophy or
thought. “ Paul was as incapable of appreciating the art
treasures of Athens as he was of giving proper value to its
philosophy.” “ As he had no appreciation of art, so had he
none for Nature” (p. 227). “ So, he was ignorant of Greek
history, and out of sympathy with the noble struggles of
the past” (z'tz'al) ; for “the entire system of training under
Gamaliel had been stunting to the finer qualities of the
mind” (p. 228). “He had no knowledge of geography”
(P- 317)
In Tarsus during boyhood he did not attend Greek
schools, and was never allowed to come “in contact with the
)7
current and eddies of thought among the Greek students .
A Study of Sz‘. Paul by Mr. Baring—Gould 331

He was even kept by his strict father from associating with
such Jews as were not strict in their adherence to the Law
and to the traditions of the rabbis. He learned nothing of
Greek thought; and, inasmuch as “ it is not probable that
there was an elementary school at Tarsus” (zla, a jewish
school), “he learned texts of his mother and the interpreta-
tion from his father”. “ As he worked at the loom, the old
Pharisee laboured to weave as well his prejudices, inter-
pretations, hatreds and likings into the texture of his son’s
mind.” Thereafter, as he grew old, Paul “would be placed
under instruction in the traditions with the ruler of the
synagogue”.
In this narrow system of education, “which had tortured
his growing mind,” Mr. Gould finds the explanation why
Paul went “to the opposite extreme,” when he “deserted
the religion of his youth ”.1
Not merely was Paul kept from any share in Greek edu-
cation; but also the amusements of the city were forbidden
to him. “As jews, the tentmaker and his son abstained
from theatrical and gladiatorial shows”; but at this point
the author remembers, apparently, how frequently Paul took
his illustrations from the games, and he makes an exception
as regards the circus. Probably “he took advantage of
having a seat2 in the circus, and followed the contest with
zest”.
But why should we consider that the circus was per-
mitted to Paul, and not the other amusements of the
1 See pp. 51-53.
2 The idea that Paul had a seat in the circus by right (for which I know
of no justification) seems to spring from the mistaken idea (p. 60) that the
Roman citizenship and even equestrian rank were gained by Paul’s father
from his having held office in the city. See the remarks below, on p. 340.
332 X!!!

stadium and the amphitheatre? He very often takes his
illustrations from the foot-races and athletic sports of the
stadium. Once at least he uses an expression which de-
rives its force from the vmaz‘z'ones in the amphitheatre.1
Are we not as fully justified in supposing that attendance
at the stadium and amphitheatre was permitted to Paul
as at the circus? Is it not obvious that, if we once admit
the principle that Paul’s illustrations and comparisons and
metaphors give a clue to his own early experiences and
education, it becomes difficult to draw any such hard line
of demarcation between the Jewish boy Paul’s surround-
ings in Tarsus and those of the young Greeks? Canon
Hicks says well: “See how essentially Greek is his per-
petual employment of figures drawn from athletic games.
. Not less essentially Greek are his metaphors from
the mysteries, or from civic life, or from education. It is
plain that St. Paul’s mind is stored with images taken from
Grmco-Roman life; he calls them up without effort. He
returns to some of them again and again. Even when a
metaphor is suggested by an Old Testament text like
[saz'a/z lix. I7 and xi. 5, he works up the illustration (1
Tkess. v. 8; Ep/z. vi. 13) after the manner of a pure
Greek simply describing a Roman soldier.”2
Those whose intellectual life has been chiefly spent in
Greek, like Professor Ernst Curtius, or Canon E. L. Hicks
(who knows as much about the Greek cities of the Asian
coast at the period in question as any living man), recognise
in Paul a man whose mind is penetrated with Greek
thoughts and familiar with Greek ways. Those who are
come to him fresh from Roman surroundings recognise in
1 St. Paul the Traveller, p. 230.
2 St. Paul and Hellenism, p. 7 f. (Studia Biblica, iv.).
A .S‘tuafi/ of St. Paul 6y M1’. Baring-Gould 333

him a mind which works out in practical life many of the
guiding ideas of Roman organisation, and which often ex-
presses itself in words whose full meaning is not apparent
without reference to Grace-Roman Law.
That Paul was, above all things, a Jew trained in the
Mosaic Law and its scholastic or rabbinical interpretation
is quite true; but the old-fashioned (unfortunately not
wholly old-fashioned) idea that he was nothing more than
that is miserably inadequate and utterly misleading. It has
maintained itself so long, because Pauline study has usually
been almost exclusively in the hands of men whose edu-
cation has been directed in their early years to classical
Greek authors, and then to Jewish life and history. The life
of the Graeco-Asiatic cities, a life inarticulate to us because
its literature has wholly perished (and perished unregretted)
-—a life known only to the antiquary through the laborious
piecing together of scattered fragments of stories, inscribed
and uninscribed—is a subject which the Pauline inter-
preters, as a rule, only enter1 in search of illustrations; but
he who is to appreciate Paul rightly must first make him-
self as familiar as Hicks and Curtius have been with the
life and surroundings and education, amid which he worked
and preached, and then proceed to study his works, instead
of regarding Paul always as the Jew, and reading him with
a mind always on the outlook for Judaic ideas, and with
the vague prepossession that nothing is Greek which does
not resemble the Greece of Demosthenes and Plato.
The author has on page 277 ff. an interesting comparison
between the Roman fzcs Gehtz'zme (a statement of those
elementary and universal principles of equity which were
recognised, or supposed to be recognised, by all nations,
1 Even the best seem to enter with minds already made up.
3 34 X]]]

and which lay at the basis of all right law) in its relation to
the statute law, and the Gospel principles of justice and
duty in their relation to the Mosaic Law.1 In each case
the modification of hard, inelastic, formal laws was sought
in a return to first principles, in an appeal to fundamental
and elementary conceptions of moral rectitude. The com-
parison may be considered perhaps a little fanciful; but I
do not think so. The distinction between principles of
right and rigid regulations was in the air at that period;
and the educated men were thinking of it, or, at least, were
in that line of thought.
This comparison illustrates a point on which Mr. Baring-
Gould differs diametrically from me; and the comparison
which he himself here draws seems to tell strongly against
his view and in favour of mine. It is impossible to determine
how far Paul was distinctly conscious of the analogies that
exist between his conception of Christianity and certain
features of the Imperial system; but, if he had any con-
sciousness of these analogies, he must have been far more
familiar with the Roman world than Mr. Baring-Gould is
willing to acknowledge. And, even if he were not conscious
distinctly of the Roman analogies (though, for my own part,
they are so numerous that I cannot believe them to have
been hit upon ignorantly by him), yet at any rate his point
of view is that of the educated men of the period ; he is not
1 Dr. E. Hicks refers to the same subject less fully in his suggestive little
book on Greek Philosophy and Roman Law in the New Testament. See also
Hzst. Comm. 012 Galatians, pp. 337-374. Mr. Gould speaks, not quite accur-
ately, of the Edictzm-z Perpetuum as issued by the Prcetores peregrini ; but it
was specially the declaration by the {Water m'banus of the principles on which
he intended to interpret justice (ius dicere). It is inferred that the final codi-
fied E dictum Perpetuum includes the equity of the peregrine praetors; but the
record is that it was the codification of the Edietum Urbanum.
A Sz‘ua'y 0f Sz‘. Paul 6y M7. Baring-Gould 335

a mere narrow and ignorant Pharisee, as Mr. Gould regards
him, but a man familiar with the thoughts and questions of
the time.
In that antithesis lies the crucial fact on which Mr. Gould
and I are opposed to one another. Regarding Christianity
as having come “in the fulness of time,” when the world
had been in part brought to that stage of education and
thought in which the new religion was comprehensible, and
regarding the organisation of the Church as arising naturally
out of, and excellently suited to, the facts of the time, I
cannot consider Paul as being wholly ignorant of, and out
of sympathy with, the Greek and Roman world.
Mr. Baring-Gould does not consider that the facts and
surroundings of Paul’s life are of supreme importance. “I
put aside,” says he, “details unnecessary to my purpose,
archmological, epigraphical, historical, geographical. My
book is not, therefore, a life of St. Paul, if incidents and
accidents make up a man’s life, but a study of his mind, the
formation of his opinions, their modification under new con-
ditions, and the direction taken by his work, under pressure
of various kinds and from different sides. At the same time
I have done my best endeavour to be accurate in such details
as were to my purpose to mention, having had recourse to
the latest and best authorities” (p.
After this depreciation of historical study we are rather
surprised to find that there is contained in chaps. i. and ii.
a general sketch of the character of Jewish education, thought
and society—such a sketch as few would attempt to write
who had not made long and careful study of the evidence.
From some pages we get the impression that, in this author’s
estimation, when you have seen one Jew you have seen all
Jews ; and the Jew whom he has seen is the Jew in whom
336 X!!!

the Talmud finds delight, and whom the rabbis of the early
centuries of our era tried to train. Chap. i. describes the
Palestinian Jews according to that type; and chap. ii. paints
the extra-Palestinian Jews as much the same: “All the
Hellenistic Jews, to the number of three millions, who made
the annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem to keep the Passover,1
differed from the Jews resident in the Holy Land in no
other particular than that of language” (p. 50). One rubs
one’s eyes after reading such a statement, and goes over it
again in order to see if one has read aright, and has not
omitted a negative, or in some other way got the wrong
sense.
But it is an error to take the Talmudic picture of a
perfect Jew for a portrait of the actual Jew of Palestine in
Paul’s time; and it is a still greater error to think that the
foreign Jews were not often strongly affected by Greek and
Roman education.2 In other places the author speaks more
correctly on this last point.
Mr. Baring-Gould has not much doubt that Paul married
Lydia at Philippi, or would have done so “but for unto-
ward circumstances,” falling “under the more or less des-
potic control3 of the rich shopkeeper,” like Hercules in
the palace of Omphale, “and delivered from it by a very
peculiar circumstance,” we, the adventure with the slave
girl. On the whole Mr. Gould concludes that it is more
1 Taken literally, this seems to imply that 3,000,000 Jews annually came
to Jerusalem from abroad for the Feast. “A man of the world” would
hardly make such a statement; but probably the author has here merely
made one of those awkward sentences which sometimes obscure his real
meaning, and are apparently due to haste (see below).
2 Many examples in my Cities and Bishoprics 0f Phrygia, ch. xv.
3 He thinks that the money which Paul evidently had command of at
Cwsarea and in Rome was all supplied by Lydia (p. 402).
A Study of St. Paul hy M1’. Baring-Gould 337

probable that the marriage did not actually come off. It
was, according to him, a lucky accident that Paul had to
leave hurriedly, so that “the Church of Philippi was given
a chance of growth independent of his presence”; for the
idea seems to rule through this book that Paul ruined every
Church which he founded or interfered with, partly by his
lack of ability to convert, partly by the bad influence which
he had on those whom he converted. The only persons on
whom he could exercise much influence were, apparently,
women: in Macedonia “he liked . . . the independence of
the women and their amenability to his preaching”. Timothy,
“evidently a tender-hearted, gentle, sensitive person, whose
bringing up by two women, and whose delicate health, made
him wanting in initiative, . . . was precisely the sort of
person Paul liked to have about him; one who would obey
without questioning and follow without murmur” (p. 206).
The author recurs frequently to his idea of a feminine
element in Paul’s nature. I believe he is right, for there is
always something of that element in every ‘great nature;
but Mr. Gould gives an unpleasant, gibing turn to his ex-
pressions on the subject. He points out that, if Christianity
was to be trammelled by being bound to the text of the
Judaic Law, it never could become a religion for the world,
nor one of progress. As for Paul, “this he did not see,1
but he felt it by a sort of feminine instinct, and what he felt,
that he was convinced was right”. The closest analogy
which he can find to illustrate Paul’s character is in St.
Theresa, who “was a female counterpart of St. Paul ” (p. 127,
a very interesting passage, well worth reading).
Mr. Gould seems more than half inclined to think that
11 should have thought that, if there were anything in the world that
Paul saw more clearly than another, it was this.
22
338 X]]]

Stephen and Paul were wrong in method, and that their
action was a misfortune to Christianity. The older Apostles
preferred the wise and calm course of work. “ They strewed
the seed over every tidal wave that rolled to Jerusalem at
every feast, and then retreated to the ends of the earth,
whereas Paul darted about dropping grains here and there”
(p. 259). Paul has had the luck to be the “most advertised,”
and his “comet-like whirls” are more “striking in story”
than the quieter but more effective work of the other
Apostles, who “sat at the centre, forming as it were a
powerful battery sending out shock after shock to the limits
of the civilised world” (p. 259; see also pp. 200, 300). But
Paul, “as he had no knowledge of geography, supposed the
world was very small, and that he could overrun and convert
the whole of it in a very few years” (p. 317).
Even the blame of Nero’s persecution is laid on Paul.
“So little did Paul conceive of the possibility of Nero be-
coming a persecutor, that apparently he took the occasion
of his appeal to detach the Christian community from the
Synagogue, to organise it in independence, and so place it
in such a position that, after the fire, the tyrant was able to
put his hand down on it, and select his victims. . . . But
for this step taken by Paul, it would have been difficult to
distinguish them from the Jews.”
Still more strange than the oft-repeated diatribes against
Paul’s inability to convert the heathen, or to make himself
intelligible to them, are the passages in which the author
describes the evil consequences of Paul’s work. These
culminate in the sentence: “His model Churches either
stank in the nostrils of the not over nice pagans through
their immoralities, or backed out of antinomism into Judaic
observance” (p. 316, compare p. 304 ff., etc.).
A Sz‘udy 0f 52‘. Paul éy Mr. Baring-Gould 339

I have left myself no space in which to speak of the
many pages in which ridicule is poured on Paul’s argument.
“His reasonings convinced nobody, and he was himself
conscious at last how poor and ineffective they were ” (p.
3r 7). Nothing is more difficult than to understand or sym-
pathise with the style of argumentation current in ancient
times. Take Plato’s arguments in Repuélz'c I. Nothing
could well seem on a superficial view more pointless or more
unfair, except some of those which Plato elsewhere puts into
Socrates’s mouth. Yet it would be hardly more foolish to
consider Plato as incapable of arguing in a style which his
public could understand than it is to pour contempt on
Paul’s reasoning. Mr. Gould has not taken enough time
to understand it.
It must be frankly stated that Mr. Baring-Gould seems
not to have given himself the time to do justice to his own
thesis. He has made a number of slips in details, both of
fact and of style, which are hardly explicable except on the
supposition of extreme hurry.
As to errors of fact, he considers that the breaking of
bread, etc., at Assos (Acts xx. 7 f.) took place on the Satur-
day afternoon and evening, not on the Sunday, as the words
plainly imply and the commentators whom I happen to have
at hand all 1 understand; and on this, apparently, he founds
an elaborate theory as to the origin and nature of the Agape-
rneal.2 On page 74 he maintains that the seven deacons (A cz‘s
vi. 5) were “ all Hellenistic Jews. It is hardly likely that as
yet a place in the ministry would be given to a proselyte.”
1Doubtless some others take the same view as Mr. Baring-Gould, for
nothing in Luke or Paul is so clear, that some will not misunderstand it.
'ZSee pp. 188, 253, etc. The Agape-meal had, as he thinks, a totally
different meaning and origin in Jerusalem and in Antioch.
340 X!!!

But it is expressly said by Luke that one of them, Nicolas,
was a proselyte Antiochian. On page 79 he finds significance
in the fact that Stephen’s burial “was not conducted by the
believers, though they lamented his death; but by ‘devout
men,’ a term specially applied to the uncircumcised prose-
lytes”. Apparently, he has been content with the English
version, and has not consulted the Greek Text: the “ devout
men,” who buried Stephen, were ezikaBeZq, a term perfectly
applicable to the believers, and not 06,86/LEVOL, which is the
term applied to “uncircumcised proselytes”. On page 242
Diolcus seems to be spoken of as a harbour on the Saronic
Gulf. On pages 224-226 it would almost seem that Thessa-
lonica and Beroea are treated as one and the same city. Mr.
Baring-Gould describes the coming to Thessalonica and the
riot; and “the result was that Paul and Silas were expelled
from Beroea”; and this is not a mere slip of the pen, for
there is no allusion to any visit to Beroea; and the con-
fusion between the two cities continues through pages 22 5 and
226. On page 60 there occurs a strange sentence: “ As his
father was a citizen, and he likewise, they were not mere
residents of Tarsus, but enjoyed the privileges and position
of Roman citizenship”. Taken strictly, this implies an idea
that Paul’s Roman rights belonged to him in virtue of hisw
Tarsian citizenship.1 That would, of course, be quite errone-
ous; but the following paragraph seems to prove that such
was the author’s idea, for he goes on to speak as if the enjoy-
ment of office in the city would carry with it equestrian rank.
I cannot close without protesting against a passage on
page 418: “The Americans send out and maintain missions
1 On p. 47 he speaks more correctly on this subject; but his words there
are discordant with p. 60. The view stated on p. 60 has been often main-
tained by writers on Paul.
A Study of St. Paul hy Mr. Baring-Gould 341

to the Mohammedans in Mesopotamia and Asia Minor, but
the missionaries have long despaired of making one convert
of the disciples of Islam, and they poach for congregations
among the historic Christian Churches”. In every point of
view this sentence is false. The missionaries to whom Mr.
Baring-Gould refers were sent out from the first for the
purpose of educating the Christians, and never with the
intention of converting the Mohammedans. They were
welcomed and protected by the three reforming Sultans,
Mahmud and his two successors, which would never have
been the case had their action been in any way directed to
convert the Turks or other Mohammedan peoples. Further,
their primary object is not to proselytise among the Ar-
menians, but to provide an educational system of schools
and colleges for a people who had been so repressed and
degraded that they were wholly without the humblest educa-
tional organisation. To this day members of many Churches
attend these schools, knowing, after sixty years’ experience,
that no attempt will be made to interfere with their religion.
I have talked frequently with members of the Armenian and
the Greek Church who have been educated at the missionary
schools; and speak on their authority, as well as on that of
the missionaries themselves. Moreover, every one who has
even the most superficial acquaintance with the facts of
recent Turkish history and life knows that a great number
of Bulgarians were educated at the Mission College in Con-
stantinople, Robert College. Was Mr. Gould ignorant of
this, and of the part they have played in emancipated Bul-
garia, or does he think that M. Stoiloff (who succeeded Stam-
buloff as Prime Minister) and the other Bulgarian College
students were converted, or that the missionaries aimed at
converting them? In the following sentence he betrays
342 X]]]

some apprehension that he may be ignorant: he proceeds,
“these missionaries, I daresay, give themselves out as labour-
ing among the unbelievers, but all their efforts are directed
in quite another direction”. This is all dragged in, without
being relevant in any way to the subject, simply in order to
give Mr. Baring-Gould the opportunity of showing his dislike
for people of whom he has heard vaguely, but about whose
work he knows nothing, and has not thought it necessary to
inquire. They seem to him to resemble Paul. In their
inability to convert unbelievers, they try to pervert Chris—
tians ; and so “Paul would have liked to convert the
heathen, but he could not do it; he had not the faculty.
He proposed it more than once, but there it all ended.”
We should have expected that a writer about St. Paul,
who adopts “the line of a novelist with some experience of
life,” would take some trouble to familiarise himself with the
general facts and situation of the country where his scene
lies. Mr. Baring-Gould prefers to be ignorant of the modern
facts, though he has certainly taken some trouble to acquaint
himself with the ancient. But he can never free himself from
a ruling prejudice against the method of “any Paul or Bar-
nabas rushing about founding Churches” (p. 260).
XIV
THE PAULINE CHRONOLOGY
XIV
THE PAULINE CHRONOLOGY
NEW TESTAMENT chronology in general is exceedingly
uncertain and obscure. This is no proof that the history
which the New Testament records is unhistorical or un-
certain. Owing to a variety of causes ancient chronology
as a whole is full of doubtful points; and the reasoning on
which the commonly accepted dating depends is in most
cases complicated and in many cases very far from certain.
But in profane history the uncertainty whether an event
commonly assigned to B.C. 301 may not have occurred in
302 or 300, is of little consequence and rouses no strong feel-
ings; and the popular books on history give many dates
which are known to the accurate scholar to be mere rough
approximations, but which are accepted for want of better.
But in New Testament history the issues are of grave im-
portance, and touch the deepest feelings in our minds. N 0
date here is accepted—no date ought to be accepted-—
without the severest scrutiny. A false chronology often
causes apparent inconsistencies in the narrative, whici dis-
appear when the chronology is corrected.
It is certain that Pauline chronology has suffered from
being generally handled by scholars who had no special
training in ancient chronological studies, but merely dipped
into the subject for the single purpose of fixing early Chris-
tian events. The present writer ventures to think that great
(345)
346 X]V

part of the history of Paul can be dated with a precision and
certainty rare in ancient history, by a series of reasons, drawn
from the most diverse sides, all of which point to the same
result. In ancient history, as a whole, new discoveries are
being constantly made, which sometimes alter an accepted
date, sometimes render precise a date that previously could
be stated only with the saving word “about”. Practice in
these questions will enable any one to appreciate the strength
of the arguments by which Pauline chronology can be settled.
Dates on coins or inscriptions, given by the number of years
from an accepted era, are generally the surest form of evi-
dence; but even they can often be cavilled at, for the era has
to be fixed, and this is often possible only by a long and
perhaps uncertain argument. The coin may date an event
in the year 316 ; but what was the year 1 P And what was
the opening day of the year P In ancient times the first day
of the year was placed in different seasons by different
nations, even by different towns. New Year’s Day might
be Ist January in one city, while neighbouring cities celebrated
it in spring, or summer, or autumn.
One great cause of difficulty may be at once set aside.
The incidence of the annual Passover has been the subject
of probably more controversy, and elicited more elaborate
and tedious discussion, than any other question in ancient
history. It has been proved repeatedly by the most learned
in Jewish archaeology that the day of Passover might vary
between several days of the month, and even between two
months, according to the phases of the moon; and that it
was only fixed by the High-priest after observation of the
appearance of the new moon in the month Nisan, in which
the feast was held. It is contended by these scholars,
and has been almost universally accepted in modern times,
The Pauline Chi/analogy 347

that until about fourteen days before Passover was celebrated
the day and even the month of its incidence were uncertain.
We need not spend time in explaining the causes of this
uncertainty: they have been explained over and over again
without adding one iota to knowledge or advancing in any
degree the solution of the question.1
It was possible to be content with about twelve days’
advertisement of the Passover, while the Jews lived only in
Palestine. But in the Dispersion, when the Jews were
scattered over the Greek and Roman and even the Barbarian
world, this could not be permitted. It was the common
Passover that held together the scattered nation; the Jews
came back for the Passover from great distances. Any un-
certainty as to the month would have made this impossible.
Even uncertainty as to the day would have seriously detracted
from the value of the feast as a unifying power. The feel-
ing that all Jews, even those who could not go to Jerusalem,
celebrated the feast and uttered the sacred words at the
same moment and instructed their children in the mystic and
historic meaning of the ceremonies on the same evening—
that feeling was an essential element in the influence which
the Passover exerted on the whole race. No one can read
Acts xx. 3-6 without feeling that Paul and his friends knew
the Passover to be the same, whether at Philippi or at
Jerusalem.
W ith the sl w communication of ancient times, it was
necessary that, if the exact incidence of the Passover were
to be known universally to the Jews in the whole world with
1 The latest and perhaps the clearest exposition of this uncertainty is by
Professor Bacon of Yale in the Expositor, 1899 and 1900. Mr. C. H. Turner,
in Hastings’ Dictionary of the Bible, i., p. 420, takes a more reasonable view,
but even he allows too much for supposed uncertainties, and (as I venture
to think) spoils his chronology thereby.
348 XIV

certainty and in good time, the date must be fixed on
scientific principles during the previous year. The century
before and after Christ was the age of calendar reform.
The required scientific knowledge was available; and no
historian can doubt that it was used for this great purpose
before the time of Paul’s journeys.
The old empirical method was not disused. It was a
religious duty that the new moon of Nisan must be observed
and reported to the High-priest. But the ceremony was
now formal, and its results were mapped out and made
known to the Jewish world months beforehand. Later, as
the Christian element in the Empire ill-treated the Jews, the
latter were thrown into opposition; and as the Empire be-
came Christian and anti-Jewish the Jews revolted from the
science that was learned from the outer world; and there
was a resolute ignoring (seen in the Talmud) of all that they
had owed to Greek and Roman science in the happier times
of the early Empire.
The subject is so complicated by many diversities of eras
and of new years, etc., that, to give a brief sketch of it, we
must omit all delicate points of difference and speak through-
out roughly in simple terms, according to years of the Chris-
tian era beginning on Ist January. Especially the relation
of Eusebius’s dates to Jerome’s is a complicated question;
and we compare them roughly. As the Eusebian chronology
is fundamental in our sketch, we must explain that Eusebius’s
lost C/n/om'ea is known: (I) through an Armenian transla-
tion; (2) through the use of it made by Syncellus and
others; (3) through the Latin translation, expanded and
modified in some cases by Jerome, a learned but not an
accurate man. When we speak of Eusebius’s dates we refer
generally to the Armenian translation.
The Pauline Chronology 349

The chronology of Paul is most conveniently treated by
regarding the two years’ captivity in Czesarea (Acts xxiv.
27) as the central point. From that most of the rest of his
life can be readily reckoned backward or forward. The
beginning of the captivity was shortly after Pentecost, in
June, two full years before the end of F elix’s administration.
The end of the captivity coincided with the arrival of Festus
to succeed Felix as the Roman governor of Palestine, about
June of a certain year.
Among the various chronological systems the following
will engage and reward our consideration :—
I. The Eusebian System (so-called).1 Eusebius places
the coming of F estus to Palestine in the last year of Claudius,
A.D. 54.. Now Eusebius knew perfectly Well (as he says in
his fj'z'story of the Church) that Festus came after Nero’s
reign began; but the explanation of this seeming inconsist-
ency is that the plan of his chronological tables made him
call the entire year in which Nero began to reign the four-
teenth of Claudius, and the next whole year the first of
Nero.2 Apparently, then, he thought that F estus came after
Claudius’s death, in October, 54, but before the year ended.
Eusebius, however, made some mistake. Even those scholars
who cling to what they call the Eusebian dating have had to
acknowledge that he was wrong by one or more years.
The prejudices and predilections of the present writer
were all in favour of the Eusebian dating; but the evidence
against this date is overwhelming. Must we then conclude
that Eusebius committed an inexplicable blunder, making
1It will be shown in the sequel that this is not the Eusebian system,
but a deviation from the Eusebian system, owing to a mistake made by
Eusebius himself.
2 So, e.g., he puts two early acts of Caligula as Emperor in the last year
of Tiberius.
35O X]V

his chronology for this period quite untrustworthy? This
conclusion long seemed inevitable, until recently a German
scholar, Dr. Erbes, gave the explanation—so simple that it
seems marvellous how one failed to see it sooner. Eusebius
in his reckoning of the kings (which he liked to make con-
tinuous, disregarding any inter/regimen), counted A.D. 45 as
the first year of Herod Agrippa II. (Acts xxvi.), because
his father, Herod Agrippa I. (Acts xii.), died in A.D. 44.
From an early authority he learned that F estus came in the
tenth year of Agrippa II., and wrongly counting from 45
he set down in his tables the coming of F estus in A.D. 54.
But the years of Agrippa were really counted from 50, so
that his tenth year was 59.1
The supposition that Eusebius made such a mistake in
using his authority is quite in accordance with his practice.
There are several other cases in which he has failed to ob-
serve that his authority reckoned on a different principle
from himself, and identified the “tenth year” of a king
in his authority with the “tenth year” in his own mis~
take. For example, he rightly gives fifty-six years six
months as the total duration of Augustus’s power. That
estimate was counted from the spring of 43, when Augustus
attained high office. But Eusebius counted Augustus as
following Julius Caesar without any interval, and he thus
goes wrong by an entire year; and when we count back
from Tiberius to Julius we find that Eusebius has dropped
one year. The present writer had repeatedly been baffled
by this mistake in Eusebius, until Dr. Erbes’s observation
about the years of Agrippa set him on the right track.
1 Dr. Erbes (Todestage Pauli and Petri in Gebhardt and Harnack’s Texte
and Untersuchungen, xix., I), who does not like the plain issue of his own
theory, has an elaborate and futile argument to show that the eleventh year
was mentioned by Eusebius’s authority, making the coming of Festus in 60.
Tue Paulz'ue Ckuouology 351

Thus we gather that the coming of Festus to Palestine
was placed in A.D. 59 by the early historian, who served
Eusebius as the authority for his dating. This authority,
who lies behind Eusebius, was probably a first-century his-
torian, and Dr. Erbes suggests that he was Justus of Tiberias
(the rival of Josephus). We may for convenience speak of
this date as the Justine-Eusebian, recognising that the con-
nection with Justus is only conjectural, but that the date
rests on some old and good authority, whose numbers were
wrongly understood by Eusebius owing to the mistake above
described.
2. Jerome recoiled from the obviously false date given by
Eusebius, and in his translation of the Cfirouz'ea he brought
down the coming of Festus and some connected dates by
two years. Vv’ith this we may associate other modifications
of the Eusebian dating: some German scholars advocate 55
as the year when Festus came; Professor Bacon of Yale
advocates 57. The latter date has absolutely no ancient
authority in its favour; and it is a mere misnomer to call it
Eusebian. These all assume that Eusebius made a blunder,
and fail to give any reasonable explanation why he fell into
it. He had access to good authorities; and if (as they
dated) Festus came under Nero in 56 or 57, it is inexplic-
able why Eusebius should have carried him back to the last
year of Claudius.
3. The great majority of scholars accept the date 60 for
Festus ; but they confess that it is only an approximate date,
and that there is no decisive argument for it. But, being
accepted for want of a better, it stands firm and has posses-
sion of almost all the books on the New Testament, many
of which do not mention that it is admittedly uncertain.
We shall prove that it is entirely impossible.
352 XIV

Let us now accept the Justine-Eusebian date, and see
where it leads us. We shall find a series of arguments con-
firming it—arguments which had led the present Writer to
advocate it for years before Dr. Erbes’s discovery. On this
system the captivity in Caesarea lasted from about June, 57,
to about midsummer, 59; and Paul must have travelled
from Philippi to Jerusalem in March and April, 57. The
following arguments confirm this date :—
I. A direct inference from Acts xx. 5 ff. Paul celebrated
the Passover of 57, Thursday, 7th April, in Philippi. He re-
mained there through the days of unleavened bread, 7th to
14th April, and then started for Jerusalem. He “ was hasten-
ing, if it were possible for him, to be at Jerusalem the day
of Pentecost”; and Luke is clear that, with the chances of
the long journey before him,1 he stayed only till the feast
was ended, and forthwith started on the morning of Friday,
I 5th April. The journey to Troas lasted “until the fifth
day”; 2 the time is long (only three days were needed in
Acts xvi. II), but the company had to find a boat at
Neapolis. They reached Troas on Tuesday, 19th April,
and stayed seven days there. Now the regular custom in
ancient reckoning is to include both the day of arrival and
the day of departure, even though both were incomplete.3
The company, therefore, stayed from Tuesday, 19th April,
to Monday, 25th April, in Troas, and sailed very early on
the Monday morning, as Luke describes.
The year which our ancient authority assigned agrees
exactly with Luke’s precise statement of days. On the
other hand, if we suppose that Paul travelled in 58, Passover
1At that time travelling was easy and sure to a degree unattained again
till this century, but it was very slow.
2 Such is the exact force of the Greek expression, Acts xx. 6.
3 See Hastings’ Dictionary of the Bible, vol. v., p. 474 f.
The Pczulz'ue Chrouotogy 3 5 3

in that year fell on Monday, 27th March; and Luke’s state-
ment of numbers and days is inconsistent with that. Simi-
larly, the other years around 57 are excluded. We come
then, to the conclusion that if Luke is accurate, Paul’s journey
to Jerusalem was made in 57.
If Paul was hastening, why did he stay on in Troas till
the following Monday? Either he stayed because he could
not find sooner a convenient ship bound on a rapid voyage
(which is the probable and natural explanation), or because
he wished to make some little stay in Troas, where on his
former visit he had found “an open door” which at the
moment he was not able to take advantage of (2 Cor. ii.
12 f.). In either case it is plain that he dare not linger in
Philippi after the feast ; and the supposition of some chrono-
logists that he did not start immediately after the feast
seems mere cavilling at the plain interpretation of Luke, in
defiance of the needs of the situation.
II. Our next argument is founded on Josephus, made
more precise by dates on contemporary coins; and it places
the coming of Festus not later than A.D. 59. Some coins
of Agrippa II. are dated by an era, which has been recog-
nised by numismatists as the foundation and naming of
Neronias (evidently a great event1 in the career of that
King). The coins show that the foundation occurred in 61-2.
Now Josephus says that the foundation nearly synchronised
with a feast in Jerusalem, some time after Albinus had suc-
ceeded Festus as governor of Palestine—probably (as we
shall see) the Feast of Tabernacles, 18th September, A.D. 61.
We put the coming of Albinus in May-June, 61 (see 111.).
1For Agrippa his relations to the Roman government were of critical
importance; and permission to name his capital after the Emperor was a
mark of Imperial favour.
23
354 XfV

Now F estus had died suddenly in office; news had to
be carried to Rome; Albinus was appointed to succeed
him ; his appointment was known to the Jews in Jerusalem
some time before he arrived, so that they could send
messengers to Alexandria to meet him; all this occurred in
the winter season, when communication was slow; this
carries back the death of F estus to the end of 60.
Having now established approximately the end of
Festus’s procurator-ship, we have to fix the beginning,
which nearly coincides with the end of Paul’s imprison-
ment. It is certain and agreed that Festus‘ came to
Palestine in the course of the summer in some year. The
date commonly accepted in modern time is A.D. 60. But
between his coming and his death events had occurred
implying a much greater lapse of time than between mid~
summer and December, 60. Not to mention his success-
ful operations against the assassins, he had been involved
in an envenomed dispute between his friend, King Agrippa,
and the priests at Jerusalem about the King’s action in
building a tower overlooking the holy precinct of the
Temple. After considerable quarrelling Festus allowed the
Jews to send an embassy to Rome, including the High-
priest, who certainly would not be able to go away from
Jerusalem on such a long journey within a few months
before a Passover, as he must necessarily be present at
that feast. Taking that fact in conjunction with the
necessities of ancient navigation, we have a moral certainty
that the embassy would start in late April or in May,1 for
the season of thoroughly safe navigation began only on
15th May. The voyage and the negotiations in Rome must
have occupied several months. At last the embassy gained
1 Dr. Erbes regards this as certain, though it forces him to strange shifts.
The Paulz'ue Chronology 355

its cause; but the High-priest was detained in Rome, when
the rest were allowed to depart. The news reached Jeru-
salem; a new High-priest was needed, and Joseph was
appointed.
Now these events would occupy the whole summer and
part of the autumn : the voyage to Rome, the negotiations,
the voyage back to Judaea (a more rapid journey, as was
always the case), the proceedings in the election of a new
High-priest. The appointment of Joseph may be confi-
dently placed about October. He did not retain office
long, but was after a brief tenure deposed. Josephus places
the death of Festus after the appointment and before the
deposition of Joseph; and, as we have seen, the death of
Festus occurred in the end of A.D. 60. Thus the con-cluding
events in the administration of Festus lasted from May to
the end of the year 60; and his government cannot have
begun later than A.D. 59, as it had been going on for at
least several months before the embassy sailed for Rome.
As F estus came in summer, we must place his arrival either
in 59 or in some earlier year; and his arrival was quickly
followed by Paul’s trial, his appeal to Caesar, and his voyage
to Rome, which began in the autumn. Thus the commonly
accepted date in A.D. 60 is absolutely excluded, if Albinus
came in A.D. 6L
After Joseph was deposed Ananus was appointed High-
pricst in .l is place (early in March, 61). Ananus held office
three months, and was then deposed (late in May, 61), some
short time before Albinus came to Palestine.
III. That Albinus came in 61 and not in 62 to govern
Palestine as procurator is established with certainty by the
following reasoning. Josephus mentions that, some time
after Albinus came to Jerusalem, there occurred a feast, and
356 XIV

the city of Caesareia Philippi was refounded by Herod
Agrippa II. about the time of that feast under the name
Neronias. Now this was a highly important event in the
reign of Herod. Neronias was his capital; and an era was
counted from its foundation. The numismatists have deter-
mined this era. The year I was A.D. 61-62. The year may
be confidently assumed to have begun in the spring-time, as
was customary in Southern Syria; and the custom with such
new eras was to count the current year as I (not to make the
new year start from the day of the foundation). The feast
at which Neronias was founded, therefore, fell in the year
beginning in spring 61 and ending in spring 62; and there-
fore it was either the Feast of Tabernacles, in autumn 6I, or
the Passover, in spring 62. No other feast can possibly be
taken into account. Albinus, therefore, who had been in
Jerusalem some time before the foundation, must have come
to Palestine in the spring or early summer of 61.
In the uncertainty between the Feasts of Tabernacles, 61,
and Passover, 62, several reasons combine to give the pre-
ference to the former; but this is unimportant for our pur-
pose. Either of them would give the result that, if Albinus
came in the early summer, he must have come in A.D. 61,
not in A.D. 62. N 0 other year has the slightest claim to
be considered, or has been thought of by any recent
scholar.
Now, as to the time of year when Albinus came, that is
certain. In the first place, it was usual for officials to arrive
to take up office at this season, though sometimes arrival
was delayed till midsummer, and doubtless exceptional cases
of arrival at other seasons occurred.
In the second place, our argument has placed Ananus’s
three months’ tenure of the high-priesthood between March
The Puulz'ue Chronology 357

and the end of May, 61. Soon after his deposition Albinus
arrived ; and after his arrival the tithes were collected from
the threshing-floors, as Josephus tells. That would take
place about late June or July, and confirms our dating of
Ananus’s high-priesthood. Later than that Josephus men-
tions the feast (Tabernacles, 61), and afterwards the founda-
tion of N eronias (fixed by coins in 61-2).
In the third place, the coming of Albinus is fixed in the
very end of May or in June by another argument of very
illuminative kind, which has never before been observed, and
which confirms the previous reasoning in a striking and con-
clusive way. When the news of the death of Festus reached
Rome, Nero nominated Albinus to succeed him. News of
this was carried (of course by the Imperial post) to Jerusalem.
In the interval King Agrippa deposed Joseph and appointed
Ananus High-priest in his place, during February or early
March, A.D. 61. Thereafter the news that Albinus was ap—
pointed reached the Jews.
In the article on “Roads and Travel” in Hastings’
Dictionary of the Bz'hle, v., p. 385, I have calculated the post
time between Rome and Jerusalem as fifty-two days. We
must double this and allow five to fifteen days for Nero
to consider and to register and publish the appointment.
Now Ananus held office only three months, March-May, and
the news about Albinus reached Jerusalem probably about
the end of March or the beginning of April, at least a full
month before Ananus was deposed.1 F estus then must have
died (as we have already seen) early in December, A.D. 60.
1 It must of course be understood that all these calculations are approxi-
mate. The perfectly normal rate of travelling could not be always main-
tained. But, approximately, this reckoning may be accepted ; the actual facts
would not be very far from the reckoning.
358 XIV

IV. Ananus, soon after he became High-priest, brought
James the Just and some other Christians before the San-
hedrin and had them stoned to death. His violent and even
illegal conduct roused strong disapproval even among the
Jews. Some of them sent secretly to King Agrippa, asking
him to forbid such conduct in future. Apparently after
this they learned of Albinus’s appointment, and sent mes-
sengers to meet him in Alexandria, denouncing the action
of Ananus as illegal inasmuch as it had been carried out
without the procurator’s approval (a good and valid ground
of accusation likely to carry great weight with the new
procurator).
Two questions here suggest themselves. In the first
place, why was Ananus’s action so strongly disapproved by
the Jews in Jerusalem, who seem to have approved of pre-
vious action against the Christians? A Christian historian
gives the answer to this.
Hegesippus, an excellent authority, describes the martyr-
dom, and says that it occurred while there were in Jerusalem
many persons who had come up for the Passover. Further,
the Hieronymian Martyrology, also an excellent authority,
gives 25th March as the day of the martyrdom. We have
been compelled by the preceding argument to place Ananus’s
high-priesthood in the spring of 61, and 24th March was the
Passover in that year. In 62 the Passover was on 12th
April, in 60 on 4th April, in 59 on 15th April, which are all
quite inconsistent with the Martyrology. But in 61 the day
of martyrdom was the day after the Passover; and this
coincidence, justifying both Hegesippus and the Martyrology,
furnishes a strong argument in favour of our dating. It was,
of course, against the law to put a criminal to death during
the feast; but Ananus was bitterly accused by the Jews
The Pauline Chi/analogy 359

themselves (as Josephus tells) for illegal and outrageous
conduct on this occasion.
In the second place, why did the Jews send to Alex-
andria to lodge a complaint with Albinus? Formerly, I
supposed that Albinus had been an official in Egypt, and
that when Nero appointed him to Palestine, instructions
were sent to him, on receipt of which he would hand over
his Egyptian office to a successor and travel to Palestine to
take up his new duties. The correct answer became clear
to me while writing an account of “Roads and Travel in
New Testament Times” for Hastings’ Dietienary of the Bz'hle,
vol. v., pp. 37 5-402. The usual way of travelling from Rome
to Syria was by the corn-ships returning from Puteoli to
Alexandria, and thence by coasting-vessel to Czesareia on
the coast of Palestine or Berytus (Beirout) on the Syrian
coast. So, e.g., went Maecius Celer in A.D. 95, when he was
about to assume office in Syria, as Statius, Silt/a iii., 2,
describes. So the Roman troops destined by Nero to
co-operate with the Syrian armies in the proposed Parthian
war went first of all to Alexandria, and were thence re-
called: they returned by the long voyage z'ih Cyprus and
the south coast of Asia Minor and Crete; and suffered
severely from the sea.1 So when Agrippa in A.D. 38 was
going to take possession of his Palestinian kingdom, which
Caligula had given him, he was. advised to avoid the long,
toilsome journey by Brundusium and Syria, and take the
quick route by ship from Puteoli to Alexandria. Those
ships were large, the sailing-masters were skilful and ex-
perienced, and the voyage was regularly performed with
speed, ease and certainty.2 But such voyages were made
only during the season of open sea from about 27th May to
1 Tacitus, Hist, i., 31; cp. i., 70, and i., 6. LPhilo in Flam, 5.
36o XIV

15th September; and the very best season was while the
regular Etesian winds were blowing.1 Albinus, appointed
about the end of January, A.D. 6o, waited at Puteoli for the
first voyage of the season in the latter part of May. Couriers
going by the land road took about fifty-two days from Rome
to Jerusalem, and the Jews heard of his appointment about
the 1st of April. But officials could not travel like couriers;
and Albinus was likely to arrive sooner vie? Alexandria than
vz'ei Brundusium, as well as with less fatigue. Thus the Jews
were able to send to meet him in Alexandria. His arrival
in Palestine may be dated in June, A.D. 61.
V. The Eusebian chronology as a whole confirms our
dates. Eusebius makes Albinus succeed F estus in 60,
Jerome puts this in 61 ; we have placed the death of
F estus at December, 60, and the coming of Albinus in
June, 61. Eusebius makes Florus succeed Albinus in 63,
Jerome in 64; the latter date is probably right (the only
alternative being January to March, 65). Eusebius and
Jerome put the coming of Felix in 51 ; the true date is 52,
but Felix previously had held command in Samaria. Thus
Felix had governed Palestine an unusually long time when
Paul came before him in 57-“ many years,” Acts xxiv. IO
(where the word many is understood relatively to the usual
duration of procuratorships).
It is established by this concurring series of arguments
that Paul came to Jerusalem in May, 57, and sailed for
Rome soon after midsummer 59. From this we can cal—
culate backward and forward. He left Ephesus (Acts xx. 1)
1 Perhaps 20th July to 28th Aug; but there is much doubt about these
winds. Modern scholars are apt to forget that each sea has its own Etesian
winds, and the rule for the IEgean does not apply to the voyage across Adria
(Acts xxvii. 27, Statius, Silo. iii., 2, 87) from Italy to Alexandria. Gentle,
light westerly winds blow across Adria all summer. See p. 364.
The Pauline Chronology 361

shortly before Pentecost 56, and spent a year in Macedonia
and Corinth (writing 2 Corinthians in summer 56 and Romans
early in 57). He had spent in Ephesus two years and three
months (called three years by Paul after the usual ancient
fashion of counting the fraction of a year at the end as a
whole year); and must have arrived there about December,
5 3. He had gone to Jerusalem for Passover, 22nd March, 5 3
(Acts xviii. 21 f.), and spent the summer and autumn of 53
in Antioch and in revisiting and establishing all his converts
in South Galatia. Before going to Jerusalem, he spent
eighteen months in Corinth, August, 51 , to February, 5 3.1
When Paul first came to Corinth, he found there Aquila
recently arrived, after being expelled from Rome by Claudius.
N ow Orosius the edict of expulsion in the ninth year of
Claudius, and a comparison of his dates with Tacitus shows
that he counted the first year of Claudius to begin from
1st January following his accession,2 so that his first year was
42, and his ninth 50. If Aquila was expelled late in 50,
he would come to Corinth perhaps in the spring or summer
of 51, some months before Paul.
Gallio came to Corinth when Paul had been there for a
considerable time. He would in ordinary course arrive in
the summer; and we must therefore conclude that he came
to Achaia in the summer,52. While he was in Achaia he
took fever and went a voyage for his health? There is no
1 The voyage from Corinth to Palestine does not require a long period,
as ships ran specially for the sake of Jewish pilgrims to the Passover, making
the voyage rapidly; see article “Corinth” in Hastings’ Dictionary of the
Bible, i., p. 483, and my St. Paul the Traveller, pp. 264, 287.
2Compare what is said above about the years of Nero.
3Seneca, Episz. M0r., 104, 1. Pliny mentions that after his consul-
ship Gallio went on a voyage (from Italy?) to Egypt on account of phthisis
(Hist. Nat, 31, 33). He of course governed Achaia before his consulship.
362 X]V

evidence outside Acts as to the date of his government, but
his brother Seneca addressed him by his old name Novatus
in the treatise De [7a, which was probably composed in
49 ;1 and he had taken his adoptive name, Junius Gallio,
before he came to Corinth.
It is less easy to reckon farther back, as the lapse of time
is not so well marked in that period. But we may fairly
place the beginning of Paul’s second missionary journey
in early summer 50, allot summer and autumn 50 to the
work in South Galatia (Acts xvi. 1-6) with the journey north
to the Bithynian frontier and west to Troas. The winter
and the summer of 51 were spent in Philippi and Thessa-
lonica and Beroea and Athens. Thus we find that the third
visit to Jerusalem (Acts xv. 2) had come to an end not later
than the beginning of 50. That visit was evidently brief;
but the residences in Antioch before and after it are of quite
uncertain duration. If events hurried rapidly on in Antioch,
Paul may have returned from South Galatia about August, 49,
and the first missionary journey with all its wide travels and
long periods of preaching may have begun after Passover 47.
But it is perhaps more probable that the stay in Antioch
should be lengthened (Acts xiv. 28), or that the first journey
occupied longer time, or both. We may, however, feel fairly
confident that the first journey would begin in spring (doubt-
less after the Passover), either A.D. 46 or 47, more probably
the former. The second visit to Jerusalem may be supposed
to have occurred in 45 ; but the length of the “ministration”
there is uncertain.
As to the conversion, the evidence of a fourth- or fifth-
century homily, wrongly ascribed to Chrysostom, is im-
portant and probably embodies an early tradition. It states
1 Lehmann, Claudius uud seine Zeit., p. 315 ff.
The Pauline Chronology 363

that St. Paul served God thirty-five years, and died at the
age of sixty-eight. Eusebius places his death in 67, Jerome
in 68; but they lump together the whole Neronian persecu-
tion, from 64 on, in a single entry, not implying that it
lasted only one year. In the great political crisis of 68,
trials of Christians must have ceased ; and the death of Paul
must be placed in 65 or 66 or 67. But it seems clear that
Paul entered public life after the crucifixion ; and if he did
so (as was not rare) in his thirtieth year,1 he must have been
under thirty at that event, A.D. 29. This seems to oblige
us to place his birth in B.C. 1, his conversion in 32 on
19th January (the traditional day may be certainly accepted),
and his death in 67.
When this chronology was first proposed, it was founded
solely on the authority of Acts, especially xx. 5 ff. ; and
it is employed in Sl. Paul the T ravellee and later works
by the present writer. For years he thought that the
Eusebian chronology was opposed to it, and sorrowfully
rejected Eusebius. Now, after the acute suggestion of Dr.
Erbes, it has been shown that this system is the Eusebian
and the traditional chronology. We closely follow Eusebius
(or in one case his first-century authority) everywhere ; and
we see that ancient traditions, rejected by every other
chronologist simply because they did not suit his system, fit
into it exactly, and confirm its correctness. We have found
several of our dates in ancient authorities, and any one proves
the others. Not a single positive statement in any ancient
author supports the commonly accepted chronology, which
is given by its earlier supporters professedly as a makeshift
1The Greek word Ve'os, a young man, was commonly used of a person
from twenty-two to forty years of age; so also Veal/{GS- Hence no stress
can be laid on the description of Paul as “ a young man ”.
364 XIV

in the dearth of positive evidence, and is scouted by many
excellent scholars. Yet it is the accepted system of the
school and college handbooks; and our system is for the
present regarded as an attempt to overturn settled chron-
ology, whereas it is really the old tradition resting on positive
ancient testimony of the highest character.
There is urgent need for a book on Eusebius and the
early Christian chronology, showing his essential accuracy,
and tracing the cause of his occasional mistakes (which are
due to defective method). Here we cannot take up space
in answering some of the objections that are sure to be
brought forward to our system (as, e.g., it has been con-
tended by many that Aretas could not have been in posses-
sion of Damascus [2 Cor. xi. 32] before A.D. 37, an objection
which is answered beforehand by Marquardt, Re'mz'se/ze Smell‘-
salz‘erflz, i., p. 404 f.). We can simply rest on the fact that
ours is the ancient and authoritative chronology.
As to the season of open sea (p. 3 59 f.), the period is
stated as 27th May to 15th September. These dates are
stated absolutely; but it cannot be supposed that sailors
were absolutely governed by them, regardless of weather in
each year. We may feel quite confident that, if steady settled
weather and an early season occurred in any year, sailors
would take the opportunity and begin to sail earlier than
27th May.
The Pauline Chronology
365
TABLE OF PAULINE DATES
Birth of St. Paul . .
Entrance on public life in his thirtieth year .
Conversion
. . . . . . January 25,
First visit to Jerusalem (in the third year, Gal. i. 18)
' Second visit to Jerusalem (in the fourteenth year, Gal. ii. 1)
First missionary journey . (perhaps March, 47 ; probably) March,
Return to Antioch (perhaps August, 49 ; probably) about August,
Third visit to Jerusalem ; the Apostolic Council . early
Second missionary journey . . . . begins after Passover,
In Corinth (Epistles to Thessalonians) . September, 51, to February,
Fourth visit to Jerusalem at the Passover . March 22 to 29,
Return to Antioch (Epistle to Galatians) . . April,
Third missionary journey . . . begins early summer,
In Ephesus (First Epistle to Corinthians) December, 53, to March,
In Macedonia (Second Epistle to Corinthians) summer and autumn,
In Corinth (Epistle to Romans) . winter, 56, to
At Jerusalem at Pentecost .
Imprisonment in Caesarea .
Voyage to Rome
Imprisonment in Rome
. . June, 57, to June,
. August, 59, to February,
February, 60, to (at latest) February,
Later journeys . . . . . . 62 to
Taken prisoner at Nicopolis . . . . . winter of 66 to
Execution at Rome . . . . . . . . .
after Passover, B.C. 1
after Passover, A.D. 29
32
34
45
46
48
5o
50
53
53
53
53
56
56
57
57
59
6o
62
66
67
67
XV
LIFE IN THE DAYS OF ST. BASIL THE
GREAT
XV
LIFE IN THE DAYS OF ST. BASIL THE GREAT1
THE publication of three volumes of selections from the
works of the great Cappadocian Fathers of the fourth cen—
tury may well attract notice even in this busy time; and the
careful and excellent scholarship displayed by the translators
and editors thoroughly deserves more than it has yet received. The work has been well done; it
was well worth doing; and it was by no means easy to do.
Gregory of N yssa is a really difficult author. The style of
Basil is, like his own character, direct, vigorous, and much
too intense to become so complicated as that of his brother.
1 Select Lt'lu'ary of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian
Church. Edited by Dr. Henry Wace, Principal of King’s College, London,
and Dr. Philip Schaff, Professor of Church History in Union Seminary, New
York.
Vol. V., Select l/Vritlngs and Letters of Gregory of Nyssa. Translated
with prolegomena, etc., by W. Moore, M.A., Rector of Appleton, late Fellow
of Magdalen College, Oxford, and H. A. Wilson, M.A., Fellow and Librarian
of Magdalen College, Oxford.
Vol. VII. : Part II.. Select Orations and Letters nfS Gregory _7\_Tagi¢mze;;,
Translated with prolegomena, etc., by C. G. Browne, M.A., Rector of
Lympstone, Devon, and J. E. Swallow, M.A., Chaplain of the House of
Mercy, Horbury.
Vol. VIII., Letters and Select l/Vor/es of St. Basil. Translated with pro-
legomena, etc., by Blomfield Jackson, M.A., Vicar of St. Bartholomew’s, Moor
Lane, and Fellow of King’s College, London.
The variety in the titulature of the three Saints suggests a certain differ-
ence of view among the translators.
(369) 24
370 XV. Life iii t/ze Days 0/‘

But even Basil presents numerous difficulties to the com-
prehension of his readers; and the scholar, who studies an
author of this period, with few and poor editions, has a much
more difficult task than the translator of some author that
has attracted the attention of generations and centuries of
learned leisure. Dr. \Vace is responsible for the editing of
the whole volume of Gregory yssen, and part of the volume
of Basil; and the many difficulties and questions that con-
front the translator in every page must all have been weighed
anew by him in the execution of a peculiarly thankless, but
important task.
It is not our intention to enter into minute questions of
translation and criticism, but to attempt to illustrate the
usefulness of work like this, by giving some examples of
what is to be learned from the selected portions of the three
authors. We shall disregard entirely the theological side of
their writings, and only quote some of the passages bearing
on the condition of society and life at the time and in the
land where the three Fathers lived. It is from Basil that we
learn most, partly because he had a much more practical and
statesmanlike mind than either his brother or his friend,
partly because almost the whole collection of his letters,
which come into nearer relations to actual life than the theo-
logical treatises, is here translated,‘ whereas only a small
selection of the letters of Gregory N azianzen is given (and
these seem chosen more for their theological or personal
interest than for their bearing on the state of society), and
only a very few letters of Gregory yssen have been pre~
1 The first 299, with a few specimens of the rest (including the doubtful
or spurious correspondence), are included in Mr. Jackson‘s volume. Our
references to Epist. are to be understood of Basil‘s letters, unless another
name is mentioned.
St. Basil the Great 371

served. We shall, as far as possible, narrate each incident
in the original words, partly to preserve the true colouring,
partly in order to bring out incidentally the success with
which the work of translation has been performed.
The modernness of tone that is often perceptible in the
literature of the Roman Empire strikes every reader; it
corresponds to and expresses a certain precocious ripeness
——or, possibly, rottenness—-in a too rapidly developed social
system. In the Eastern provinces an interesting problem is
presented to us; this precocious Western civilisation and
education was there impressed upon Oriental races, back-
ward in development and unprogressive in temperament,
by the organising genius of Rome and the educative spirit
of Greece. It is an interesting process, whereby Western
manners and ideas were for a time imposed on, and in a
small degree even naturalised among, an Oriental people,
and then died out again, either because the circumstances
of the Byzantine Empire were uncongenial, or because all
civilisation and ideas were destroyed by the Turks. That
long process will some time find a historian; a single
moment in it is revealed in the pages of the three great
Cappadocians.
One of the most interesting passages for our purpose is
Gregory N yssen’s satirical sketch of the early life of the two
heretics, [Etius and Eunomius. Their history, as told by
Gregory, is quite a romance; though it is doubtful h w ar
the account which he gives of theological opponents is to be
trusted. fEtius was originally a serf, bound to the soil on a
vine-growing estate.
Having escaped—how, I do not Wish to say, lest I be thought
to be enteringon his history in a bad spirit—he became at first a
tinker, and had this grimy trade quite at his fingers’ end, sitting
372 XV. Life in the Days of

under a goat’s-hair tent,1 with a small hammer and a diminutive
anvil, and so ‘earned a precarious and laborious livelihood. What
income, indeed, of any account could be made by one who mends
the shaky places in coppers, and solders holes up, and hammers
sheets of tin to pieces, and clamps with lead the legs of pots?
As the story goes, “ a certain incident necessitated the next
change in his life ”. A woman, attached to a regiment, gave
him a gold ornament to mend ; he returned to her a similar
one of copper, slightly gilt, “ for he was clever enough in the
tinker’s, as in other, arts to mislead his customers with the
tricks of trade”. But the gold got rubbed off, and he was
detected; “ and as some of the soldiers of her family and
nation were roused to indignation, she prosecuted,” and
secured his condemnation. After undergoing his punish—
ment, he “left the trade, swearing that . . . business tempted
him to commit this theft”. He then became assistant to a
quack doctor, and
made his attack upon the obscurer households and on the most
abject of mankind. Wealth came gradually from his plots against
a certain Arrhenius who, being a foreigner, was easily cheated, and
. . advanced him frequent sums of money. He next wanted to
be styled a physician himself. Henceforth, therefore, he attended
medical congresses, and, consorting with the wrangling controver-
sialists there, became one of the ranters, and, just as the scales were
turning, always adding his own weight to the argument, he got to
be in no small request.
From medicine FEtius turned to theology. Arius had
already started his heresy,
and the schools of medicine resounded then with the disputes about
that question. Accordingly I'Etius studied the controversy; and,
1 The translation is certainly right, though “ camel’s hair ” is a commoner
sense of the Greek word. Such tents are, and doubtless always have been,
common in the country.
Szf. Basil the Great 373

having laid a train of syllogisms from what he remembered of
Aristotle, he became notorious for even going beyond Arius in the
novel character of his speculations.
At this point the inconsistency of this “veracious” narra-
tive strikes the reader; if the life of fEtius as serf, tinker,
quack’s assistant, and quack principal is rightly recorded,
when had he found time and opportunity to study Aris—
totle?
Eunomius, the pupil of A‘Ltius, had (according to his
theological opponent) an almost equally varied, though much
less disreputable, career. He was born at a small village
—Oltiseris—of the Korniaspene district, in the north-western
part of Cappadocia, near the Galatian frontier. His father
was a peasant farmer,—
an excellent man, except that he had such a son. . . . He was
one of those farmers who are always bent over the plough, and
spend a world of trouble over their little farm ; and in the winter,
when he was secured from agricultural work, he used to carve out
neatly the letters of the alphabet for boys to form syllables with,
winning his bread with the money these sold for.
This is an interesting picture of the farmer’s life in a
remote and obscure corner of Cappadocia, and it suggests
that the knowledge of letters and writing had penetrated to
a very humble stratum of society, if a peasant farmer could
make money in this way during the long winter season,
when the ground was covered with snow for months. Facts
like these make it all the more remarkable that a bishop
who was present at the Council of Constantinople, in 448,
had to get a friend to sign on his behalf, eo quad nescz'am
Zz'z‘ems. The Phrygian Church, which had been so flourish-
ing in the second and third centuries, was destroyed with fire
and sword by Diocletian, and the country never properly
374 XV. Life in the Days of

recovered from that crushing persecution; education and
prosperity were for a time almost annihilated. But Cappa-
docia had not been so thoroughly Christianised before the
time of Diocletian, and hence it escaped more easily. In
reading over the Acta Sauctozuiiz, every student must
observe that a much larger number of Cappadocian than of
Phrygian martyrs are recorded under that great persecution ;
but the fact is that the destruction in Phrygia was so
thorough that the memory of individuals was not preserved.
Where a whole city with its population was burned, who
would record the martyrdom of any single hero? In
Cappadocia many martyrs were tried and condemned, and
their memory embalmed in history: in Phrygia the Church
in considerable districts was obliterated for the time, and its
tone permanently depreciated.
Eunomius, perceiving that his father led
a life of laborious penury, said good-bye to the plough and the
mattock and all the paternal instruments, intending never to
drudge himself like that; then he sets himself to learn Prunicus’
skill of short-hand writing; and having perfected himself in that
he entered at first, as I believe, the house of one of his own family,
receiving his board for his services in writing; then, while tutor-
ing the boys of his host, he rises to the ambition of becoming an
orator.
Here, again, we are struck with the development of edu-
cation in this obscure district, when a shorthand clerk could
be found worth board and lodging in a family, which must
have been either rustic or of a small provincial town.
Gregory draws a veil over the subsequent stages in the
life of Eunomius, until the epoch when he saw that his toil
“was all of little avail, and that nothing which he could
amass by such work was adequate to the demands of his
St. Basil the Great 375

ambition”. He accordingly turned to heresy-mongering,
and found that this was a much more lucrative profession.
“In fact, he toiled not thenceforward, neither did he spin;
for he is certainly clever in what hc takes in hand, and
knows how to gain the more emotional portion of mankind.”
He made religion pleasant to his hearers and dupes; “ he
got rid of ‘the toilsome steep of virtue’ altogether”; and
Gregory declares that he initiated them in practices and vices
which it would not be decent even in an accuser to mention.
Considering the style in which religious controversy was
carried on by almost all parties at this time, we cannot
attach any special credibility to Gregory’s accusation that
Eunomius’s teaching was so profoundly immoral. But it is
of some interest to observe that the charge of appealing to
the excitability and to the vices of the public was mutual.
Eunomius declared that his great opponent Basil, the brother
of Gregory, was “one who wins renown among poor old
women, and practises to deceive the sex which naturally falls
into every snare, and thinks it a great thing to be admired
by the criminal and abandoned”.
In these descriptions of fEtius and Eunomius, and in
many other occasional touches in the writings of Basil and
Gregory, we observe traces of a certain contempt for the
low-born persons who had to make their living by their
own work. The family of Basil and Gregory possessed
considerable property in land, and their tone is that of the
aristocrat, brought up in a position of superiority, and volun-
tarily accepting a life of asceticism and hardship to which
they were not trained. Basil is distinctly a champion of
the popular cause against the dominant power of the Em-
peror and of the wealthier classes; but his position is not
that of Cleon and Hyperbolus, claiming rights for the class
376 XV. Life in the Days of

from which they sprang, and not free from a touch of
vulgarity in their speeches and a taint of selfishness in their
aspirations. His spirit and his aims are like those of
Tiberius Gracchus, actuated by sincere and Divine sym-
pathy for the wrongs and miseries in which he had no part,
and showing perhaps want of judgment, but not selfishness.
From the Apostle Paul onwards it was, as a general rule,
the local aristocracy that produced the leading figures in
Anatolian history during the Roman period. Education
was indispensable to advancement and influence under the
Empire ; and the poorer classes were cut off from the oppor-
tunity of getting education by a chasm which very few could
cross. The Imperial system never attempted to spread edu-
cation more widely ; rather, it almost discouraged any move-
ment of this kind. Only private individuals,1 or the cities of
the provinces, made some attempt to increase the educational
opportunities for their own people. Basil and Gregory of
N azianzos belonged to the class of landed proprietors whose
fortune opened to them the path of education and enabled
them to study in Athens or some other of the leading Uni-
versities.
Such families belonged originally to a conquering class of
land-owners, who dwelt as a country aristocracy amid an
older conquered population. They dwelt in a kind of build-
ing which was called Tetraypyrgion or Tetrapyrgia: quad-
rangular farm steadings enclosing an open courtyard, with
towers at the corners and over the gate. Such buildings
were made to be defensible; and Eumenes found that
regular military operations were necessary to reduce them.2
1 Pliny the younger may be taken as typical of a class.
2Plutarch, Eum., 8; Studies in the Eastern Roman Provinces, p. 372 f.
(Hodder & Stoughton, 1906) ; Cities and Bishoprics 0f Phrygia, ii., p. 419.
Sz‘. Basil Zae Great 377

Their plan has been preserved to the present day in the
great Khans, built along the principal roads by the Seljuk
Sultans to defend the trade from the wandering and unruly
Nomads.
According to Gregory of N yssa, Christianity was the
nearly universal religion of Cappadocia in the second half of
the fourth century. He says in his Epistle 0n Pilgrimages
that,
if it is really possible to infer God’s presence from visible symbols,
one might more justly consider that He dwelt in the Cappadocian
nation than in any of the spots outside it. For how many Altars1
there are there, on which the name of our Lord is glorified. One
could hardly count so many in all the rest of the world.
There is, doubtless, some truth in this picture; but it has
been considerably heightened in colour, even setting aside
the Oriental hyperbole of the last words, which were not
meant to be taken literally. Basil, who is always more trust-
worthy than Gregory, because he was more honest and more
earnest, and stood closer to real life, gives a somewhat different
account. He sees how far the Christian spirit was from hav-
ing extirpated the pagan spirit, even where it had triumphed
in outward appearance. He gives, for example, an interest-
ing account of the Magusaei, a people who were settled in
Cappadocia “in considerable numbers, scattered all over the
country, settlers having long ago been introduced into these
parts from Babylon”. Probably they had been transplanted to
Asia Minor by the Persian kings, to strengthen their hold on
the country; and they had remained for nearly eight centuries
unmixed with the other inhabitants, preserving their own
religious customs and separateness of blood. In a recent
1 “9110'La0'7'7'7p1a, the sanctuaries (with the Altar), into which at this time
no layman except the Emperor might enter.”
378 XV. Life in the Days of

book on Turkey,1 it has been pointed out as one of the worst
evils in the country that the different races remain apart,
divided by difference of custom, and by consequent mutual
hatred; and the existence of the same evil in ancient time
might have been stated even more strongly than it is in that
work. In the fourth century Roman rule and the influence
of the Church had alike failed, as yet, entirely to obliterate
racial differences; but it is only in incidental references like
this to the Magusmans, that the existence of such despised
races is admitted by the Cappadocian Fathers. As Basil
says, “ Their manners are peculiar, as they do not mix with
other men. . . . They have been made the prey of the devil
to do his will. They have no books; no instructors in
doctrine.” Basil means, of course, Christian books: it is not
improbable that in secret they preserved and used Magian
books. “They are brought up,” as he goes on to say, “in
senseless institutions.” Besides more obvious characteristics,
“they object to the slaying of animals as defilement; and
they cause the animals they want for their own use to be
slaughtered by other people. They are wild after illicit
marriages: they consider fire divine,” and so on. These
illicit marriages are described by Eusebius 2 as being between
such near relatives as father and daughter, brother and
sister, son and mother; and the same writer says that the
Magusaei were very numerous in Phrygia and Galatia, and
everywhere retained the social customs and mysterious
religious ritual which they had brought with them from
Persia.
Illicit marriages were not confined to the Magusaei, but
were still admitted among the general population of Cappa-
1 Impressions of Turkey, p. 95.
2 Prep. Ea, vi., pp. 275, 279, Viger.
St. Basil the Great 379

docia, as is evident from the Canonical Letters, and from
some incidental references.
Apparently, the .\'l agusmi made a superficial pretence of
Christianity, but retained their pagan customs almost un-
altered ; as at the present day some races in the same country
put on an outward appearance of Mohammedanism, though
wanting its real character. Such, for example, are the
Takhtaji (Woodmen), about whom every traveller, who has
seen much of Asia Minor, speaks: Dr. Von Luschan, Peisen
in Ly/eien, ii., p. 199, vouches on personal knowledge for the
survival among them of the custom of marriage between
brother and sister, and they are as much despised by the
Turks now as the Magusaei were by the Christians of Basil’s
time. But even the proper, who had
embraced Christianity in a more thorough way, there con-
tinued to exist many customs belonging to their pre=Christian
state, which the Church had either tacitly acquiesced in, or
at least failed to eradicate. Basil belonged to the Puritan
party, and waged stern war with many of these customs.
His invectives against them have preserved their memory;
and the student of ancient society will turn to these passages
with a very different spirit and interest from that which
Basil felt.
Marriage by capture was still a common practice, justified
and supported by common opinion. In Letter 27o Basil
speaks of this “act of unlawfulness and tyranny against
human nature and society,” and prescribes the treatment
which is to be meted out to the offenders. The nature of
the punishments shows that he is writing to some church
official, probably one of his subordinate bishops, or village-
bishops, or presbyters.
38o XV. Life in the Days of

\Vherever you find the girl, insist on taking her away, and
restore her to her parents, shut out the man from the prayers, and
make him excommunicate.1 His accomplices, according to the
canon which I have already put forth, cut off, with all their house-
hold, from the prayers. The village which received the girl after
the abduction and kept her, or even fought against her restitution,
shut out with all its inhabitants from the prayers; to the end that
all may know that we regard the ravisher as a common foe like a
snake or any other wild beast.
It is clear, then, that the whole neighbourhood approved
the capture as preliminary to enforced marriage; and even
the clergy to some extent acquiesced in the popular opinion,
for Basil says that “ if you had all been of one mind in this
matter, there would have been nothing to prevent this bad
custom from being long ago driven out of your country”.
Basil was not so severe on some superstitions which had
clothed themselves in a thoroughly Christian form. He
regards it as quite praiseworthy that sick persons should
have recourse for cures to the prayers of hermits ; and he
promises to try to find some relics of martyrs for a new
church built by Bishop Arcadius (5p. 49). Gregory N azian-
zen declares that the mere visit of Basil almost cured the
sick son of the Emperor Valens, and would have done so
completely, had not his saving influence been counteracted by
the presence of Arian heretics (Or. xliii., § 54). Yet Basil
writes a noble eulogy of the medical profession: “To put
that science at the head and front of life’s pursuits is to
decide reasonably and rightly” (Ep. 189). But the lively
interest taken by the physicians of the time in theological
controversy, as proved by that very letter, and by the life
1In the canonical letter to Amphilochius, p. 238, the total duration of
the punishment in its various degrees is specified as four years.
5!. Basil the Greal 381

of ffitius described above, is not suggestive of good; and,
on the whole, we may gather that the medical profession
had degenerated seriously from the scientific spirit of the
old Greek medical schools.
On the other hand, he was very severe on the Panegyrez's,
or local festivals, which, along with religious observances and
sermons, united a good deal of social enjoyment of a kind
that was in his opinion objectionable (Ep. 42). We should
be glad to learn more about these festivals. There can be
no doubt that they were a Christianised form of the earlier
pagan festivals, celebrated at the places which have con-
tinued to be the great centres of religion in all ages of
history. The festivals were, in the first place, “spiritual
gatherings,” where might be heard “expositions of the
teaching of the Apostles, lessons in theology,” and so on;
but, besides, there were presented before the assemblies
plays, music, mountebanks, jests and follies, drunken men
and—worst of all in Basil’s estimation—beautiful women.
The most interesting of these festivals took place at Venasa,
the old seat of one of the three great temples of Cappadocia;
and it corresponds to the modern festival of St. Macrina at
Hassa-Keui, a few miles south of Venasa (which is now purely
Turkish), to which Mohammedans as Well as Christians re-
sort, bringing sick animals to be cured on the holy occasion.
The quaint and interesting story of the Deacon Glycerius is
associated with that festival (E11). 169 but it is too long
for our space, and, moreover, has been very fully discussed
elsewhere.1
Again, Basil condemns unsparingly the evils and abuses
that existed in the Church of his time. He forbade an old
unmarried presbyter of seventy to have a woman living in
1 Church in the Roman Empire before 180, ch. xviii.
382 XV. Life in the Days of

his house, and when the presbyter wrote to explain that
there was no evil relation between them, he rebuked him
with growing sternness, ordering him to expel her from his
house and “establish her in a monastery”. Basil also
strenuously denounced the practice of taking money from
candidates for ordination: “They think that there is no
sin because they take the money not before but after the
ordination; but to take is to take at whatever time” (By).
5 3). He strove to reintroduce “ the ancient custom observed
in the Churches,” that ministers should be tested by ex-
amination as to their moral character and their whole past
life before being admitted, and to put down the ordinary
practice among the village-bishops of allowing “presbyters
and deacons to introduce unworthy persons, without any
previous examination of life and character, by mere favouri-
tism, on the score of relationship or some other tie ”(Ep. 54).
The clergy had not yet become a distinct order, wholly
separate from the laity: they practised trades in order to
make their living. Basil had difficulty in finding any
clergyman to whom he might entrust a letter to Eusebius,
Bishop of Samosata, “for though our clergy do seem very
numerous, they are men inexperienced in travelling, because
they never traffic and prefer not to live far away from home,
the majority of them plying sedentary crafts, whereby they
get their daily bread ” (Ep. 198).
From the letter just quoted, and many others, it is clear
that Basil usually tried to find clerical letter-carriers ; and we
may understand that in many other cases, where no exact
information is given, this was the case, e.g., in Epz'st. 19 to
Gregory N azianzen, where he explains that he could not
reply on the spot to Gregory’s letter, “because I was away
from home, and the letter-carrier, after he had delivered
St. Basil the Great 383

the packet to one of my friends, went away”. But other
convenient opportunities were sometimes used: e.g., magis-
trates travelling were often asked to carry letters for their
friends (Ep. 215, 237).
The number of travellers was evidently far greater on
the roads leading to Constantinople or Athens than towards
Armenia. Basil has “no expectation of finding any one to
convey a letter to Colonia in Armenia, which is far out of
the way of ordinary routes” (5;. 195). On the other hand,
he speaks of a continuous stream of travellers coming from
Athens to Cappadocia (Ep. 20); and though theiletter, ad-
dressed to Leontius the Sophist, bears the stamp of the
rhetorical style, sacrificing fact to effect, yet it implies that
a considerable number of Cappadocian students, like Basil
and Gregory N azianzen, attended the University of Athens.
The important road to Samosata in Syria would be prob-
ably well frequented; and, when Basil speaks of difficulty
in finding messengers thither, either he is speaking of the
winter season, when the passes were blocked by snow, or he
requires to find a trustworthy special messenger for an im-
portant lctter.
On the whole, the impression given by the letters is that
the custom of travelling, which had increased under the
early Roman Empire to an extent almost unknown until the
present century, was fully maintained in the fourth century.
Travelling on pilgrimage to the holy places of Palestine
was not very much approved by the Cappadocian Fathers.
Basil says here little on the subject. Gregory, having been
entrusted with the duty of “visiting the places where the
Church in Arabia is on the confines of the Jerusalem dis-
trict,” desires also to “confer with the Heads of the Holy
Jerusalem Churches”. He describes his journey thus :—
384 XV. Lzfe in the Days of

Our most religious Emperor had granted us facilities for the
journey, by postal conveyance, so that we had to endure none of
those inconveniences which in the case of others we have noticed;
our Waggon was, in fact, as good as a church or monastery to us,
for all of us were singing psalms or fasting in the Lord during the
whole journey.
But, though he took advantage of this opportunity of
visiting Jerusalem, he did not approve of going on pilgrim-
age. He thought that there was nothing to be gained, even
for men, by pilgrimage, except the more vivid appreciation
of the fact “that our own places are far holier than those
abroad ” ; and he considered that people should stay at
home till they died, and that it was better for “the brethren
to be absent from the body, to go to our Lord, rather than
to be absent from Cappadocia, to go to Palestine”. As to
women going on pilgrimage, the difficulties of travelling
made it still more unbecoming and improper.
For instance, it is impossible for a woman to accomplish so
long a journey without a conductor; on account of her natural
weakness, she has to be put upon her horse and to be lifted down
again; she has to be supported1 in difficult situations. Which-
ever we suppose, that she has an acquaintance to do this service
or a hired attendant to perform it, either way the proceeding
cannot escape being reprehensible; whether she leans on the help
of a stranger or on that of her own servant, she fails to keep the
law of correct conduct; and as the inns and hostelries and cities
of the East present many examples of licence and of indifference
to vice, how will it be possible for one passing through such smoke
to escape without smarting eyes?
The evil reputation of the inns and taverns on the great
roads of the Empire, to which Gregory here alludes, is
1Gregory seems to have had the lowest possible idea of women’s
capacity: they could not even sit on a horse, without being held to prevent
them falling off.
5!. Basil the Great 385

confirmed by many other testimonies. Under the pagan
Empire, the hostelries were for the most part little better
than houses of ill-fame;1 and under the Christian Empire
there seems to have been no serious improvement. The
story of the birth of St. Theodore of Sykea in Galatia,
about A.D. 560, bears witness to a singularly depraved con-
dition of public feeling; and in the Middle Ages matters
seem to have been equally bad for the Pilgrims to the Holy
Land. Felix F abri of Ulm, about 1480, says that “the inns
on the isles of the sea are houses of ill-fame,” and warns
every “good and godly pilgrim” at night to “return to his
galley and sleep therein safe in his berth ”.2 The character
of the public hostelries was, doubtless, one of the reasons
that weighed with Basil in making his great foundation near
Caesareia, including not merely an almshouse and hospital,
but also
a place of entertainment for strangers, both those who are on a
journey and those who require medical treatment on account of
sickness, and so establishing a means of giving these men the
comfort they want, doctors, means of conveyance, and escort.
A foundation like this shows Basil’s practical character;
he diagnosed the real character of the evil, and struck out
the cure; and, as we believe, his foundation became so
important that it gradually attracted the city to itself, and
the ancient site is now deserted, while Basil’s site is the
present Kaisari.3
The frequent allusions to the severity of winter weather
will surprise those who do not know the country. Although
1 See Friedlander, Sittengeschichte Roms, ii., p. 44.
2Translation in Palest. Pilgrims’ Text Society, i., p. 163; compare p.
21.
3A 'n'cw56xezov at Constantina in Osrhoene, B. C. H., 1903, p. 200, was
founded in 5r4, hotcllerie ecclesiastique pour pclerins.
25
386 XV. Life iu the Days of

Cappadocia does not lie so high, and the winters are not so
severe, as in Armenia, yet Caesareia is 3,500 feet above sea-
level, and the border-land between the valleys of the Halys
and Sarus and Euphrates is a good deal higher; and at
that elevation winter is long and hard. Basil speaks of
“such a very heavy fall of snow that we have been buried,
houses and all, beneath it, and now for two months have
been living in dens and caves ” (i.e., under the surface of the
snow, like the underground dwellings—dens and caves—used
in some parts of Cappadocia) (Ep. 48). Even an unusually
mild winter “was quite enough to keep me not merely
from travelling while it lasted, but even from so much as
venturing to put my head out of doors” (Eye. 27).1
In another letter he mentions that “ we have had a
winter of such severity that all the roads were blocked till
Easter” (Ep. 198). Again, “the road to Rome is wholly
impracticable in winter” (Ep. 215). Even a meeting with the
Bishop of Iconium must be arranged “at a season suitable
for travelling” (Ep. 191), though the road from Caesareia
to Iconium traverses only level country and crosses no hills
or passes except that of the Boz-Dagh, about 600 feet
above the plain.
As to the state of peace and order in the country, there
are many indications that the administration of government
was both arbitrary, weak and ineffective. Basil writes to
Candidianus, the governor or a high official of the province
Pontus,2 shortly after his return from Athens, probably
about A.D. 360, asking redress for a serious wrong: the
1 Contrast with this the account given of a modern missionary in my
Impressions of Turkey, p. 222. The winter weather does not prevent
travellers of Western origin from going about; but the Eastern people are
not great travellers, and regard winter as a closed season.
2Not Cappadocia, as editors think, for Annesi was in Pontus.
St. Basil the Great 387

house on his farm had been broken into, part of the contents
stolen, and his servants beaten, by a band of rude persons
from the neighbouring village of Annesi. Basil himself
seems to have been living at the time in his retreat in the
gorge of the river Iris, near the farm. The farm was
managed by a steward, who had died; and a creditor in
Annesi had taken this disorderly way of recovering a debt
which he claimed. We have, of course, only a statement of
one side of the case ; but the main facts cannot be doubted.
We are struck, however, by the fact that Basil makes no
attempt to get redress by ordinary process of law. He
writes direct to a high officer, and asks that, as a punish-
ment, the man be “apprehended by the district magistrate
and locked up for a short period in the jail”. Basil had
too much of the aristocratic tone to take proceedings before
the district magistrate against a vulgar rustic. His claim is
that the governor should act at once on his representation,
and should give a slight lesson to the neighbours that Basil
was not a person whose property and house could be lightly
insulted, even in his absence. It was probably after this event
that Basil gave the use of the estate and the slaves on it for
life to his foster-brother, Dorotheos, the presbyter of the
village, reserving to himself an annual rent from it for his
support. Mr. Blomfield Jackson has rightly brought out
that this act had not the character, which has often been at-
tributed to it, of a total renunciation of the property. Basil
was not a man to retire wholly from the world and live in
pure asceticism. He recognised rightly the duty incumbent
on him of action in the world; and he knew that he could
act far more usefully, if he were not in a position of
penury. He was used to the position of a country gentle-
man with means and influence; and the thought of abandon~
388 XV. Life in the Days of

ing this position and entering on a life of real poverty
evidently never occurred to him as a serious possibility.
When the assessment on the property was raised, be pro-
tested vigorously and asked that the ancient system of rating
should be retained, as Dorotheos might throw up the pro-
perty, making Basil himself responsible for the whole of the
rate (5;. 36).
Gregory N azianzen in his Panegyrz'e on St. Basil, § 56,
tells how “the assessor of a judge was attempting to force
into a distasteful marriage a lady of high birth, whose
husband was but recently dead,” and used all the powers of
his position against her and Basil, who was trying to pro-
tect her, until the populace rose in defence of their bishop,
especially the men from the small-arms factory and from the
imperial weaving-sheds; for men at work in these trades are
specially hot-tempered and daring, because of the liberty allowed
them. Each man was armed with the tool he was using, or with
whatever else came to hand at the moment. Torch in hand,
amid showers of stones, with cudgels ready, all ran and shouted
together. . . . Nor were the women weaponless; . . . they were
by the strength of their eagerness endowed with masculine
courage.
In the end Basil’s help alone preserved the official from
their violence.
The events which called forth Letters 72-73 illustrate this
subject. They seem to have been the following, though the
allusive way in which Basil refers to what was familiar to
his correspondents makes several of the details doubtful. A
certain Callisthenes, a man of great influence, probably an
official (see p. 403), resided in some city of South-west
Cappadocia. At Sasima (the town of which Gregory
Nazianzen was made bishop, much against his will, by
Sl. Baszl Z/ee Greal 389

Basil), where three great roads met, and where there was,
doubtless, a post-station and a vast amount of traffic and
travellers, there had occurred a quarrel between Callisthenes
and a set of slaves belonging to Eustochius, who was ap-
parently a merchant residing at or near Cmsareia. Some
dispute about precedence, or other incident of travelling,
caused such angry feeling that the slaves had even used
personal violence to Callisthenes ; and they had made them-
selves liable to some serious punishment. Callisthenes
seems to have been sole arbiter of their fate; and the
owners of the slaves, perhaps a trading company to which
Eustochius belonged, had no way of preventing him from
exacting the extreme penalty. Eustochius appealed to
Basil, who exerted himself to the utmost to secure milder
treatment for the slaves. He wrote to Callisthenes a letter
(not preserved), and received a very polite reply, couched
in that Oriental style of elaborate courtesy which means
nothing, professing to leave the decision with Basil, but
insisting that the slaves should come to Sasima to submit
to punishment, and giving no pledge as to the penalty
which would satisfy him. Basil replied, acknowledging the
courtesy of the letter, but pointing out clearly that, unless
Callisthenes gave some distinct promise before the slaves
went to Sasima, the politeness of the letter was merely a
matter of words. He allowed that, if Callisthenes insisted,
1..
’\ (<1 ~ Am. ~<~N~ '\-H A r‘ .:--'-r~ a
llC slaves niusi. gt) to ScLSUUot,
but he hoped and begged
that Callisthenes would be satisfied with their appearance
there and submission to his will, and would remit further
punishment. Especially, he desired a promise that Callis-
thenes would himself be present at Sasima, and not let
himself be detained by business on the road, leaving to
others the exaction of the legal penalty. This desire im—
390 XV. Life in the Days of

plies that, if Callisthenes were not present to remit the
penalty, no other person would have the power to do so;
and that the slaves had been condemned to appear and suffer
a certain punishment, unless Callisthenes chose to be satisfied
with less. What the penalty was is not stated by Basil, but
his language implies that it was very serious, possibly death.
The decree had apparently been pronounced at Caesareia,
whither Callisthenes had sent a soldier to demand satisfac-
tion, and his vigorous complaint at headquarters secured
an order in his favour from the governor of the province.
Basil also wrote to Hesychius, who lived in the same city
as Callisthenes, and was apparently an official of the Church.
He sent a deacon to carry these letters, and instructed him
to take other steps in the business. The amount of trouble
which Basil took furnishes a proof of the interest which he
felt in the condition of slaves, and of the way in which he
was ready to use the whole strength of the Church, as well
as his own, to secure milder treatment for them (see p. 403).
Complaints about the burden of taxation were evidently
often made. Thus: “everything nowadays is full of taxes
demanded and called in . . . for even the Pythagoreans
were not so fond of their Tetractys, as these modern tax-
collectors of their four-times-as-much ” (a rule imposing quad-
ruple payment for arrears) ; an estate “is now left and
abandoned on account of the weight of the rates imposed
on it ”. In Epz'st. 110: “ give orders that the tax paid by
the inhabitants of iron-producing Taurus may be such as it
is possible to pay”. A new system, whereby the burdens
on the clergy were much increased, is referred to elsewhere.
The harsh treatment of the clergy by Maximus, the gover-
nor of Cappadocia, is complained of. The governors seem
to have been far from just or good. We hear of the same
St. Basil the Great 391

Maximus, persecuted by the next governor of Cappadocia,
and of a governor in Africa so bad as to be excommunicated
by the Church. The arbitrary conduct of governors, in
violation of formal law or of equity, is a frequent subject
of complaint.
In Epist. 54 we learn that “a large number of persons
are presenting themselves for the ministry through fear of
the conscription”. The strong dislike for military service,
by making the mass of the people entirely incapable of
self-defence, undoubtedly rendered them an easier prey to
the ravages of Parthians and afterwards of Saracens.
As to the conditions of labour, we learn little from the
works here translated, though there are materials in the
other works for a much more elaborate picture. In Bpist.
IS Basil mentions the hired labourers engaged on a farm
during the heat of summer; in the winter, when all agri-
cultural work was suspended, they would not be needed.
He distinguishes these hired farm-servants from the agri-
culturists proper, some of whom turned to other industry
during the winter, like the father of Eunomius. The slaves
who cultivated such estates as Basil’s at Annesi must be
distinguished from both hired labourers and free agriculturists.
F amine-relief operations were organised by the Church
officials; for scarcity seems to have been common. Basil
says that “the dearth is still with. us, and I am therefore
compelled to remain where I am, partly by the duty of dis-
tribution, and partly out of sympathy for the distressed”
(Ep. 31). The letter is ordinarily assigned to A.D. 369, and
was certainly earlier than the death of Eusebius, Bishop
of Caesareia, in A.D. 370.1 It was followed by a long and
1This famine and the relief operations are also described by Gregory
Nazianzen, Panegyris, §§ 34-36.
392 XV. Life in the Days of

severe scarcity which was raging at Nazianzus in A.D. 373,
when Gregory Nazianzen delivered his Oration xvi. to his
suffering and terrified congregation.
It is a highly elaborated and artificial civilisation that is
set before us in these works; but there are many signs of
the bad administration, which went from bad to worse dur-
ing the following century and a half, until Justinian made a
great and noble effort to reform the whole executive. His
Novella present a terrible picture of provincial oppression
and misgovernment;l but a rigorous diagnosis of the evil,
such as is there given, is the first step towards improvement.
Whether the changes in the executive which he made were
ill-advised, or the evil was too deeply seated to be reached
by changes on the surface, little permanent improvement
was attained; but the attempt which was made to cure the
evil, as well as the unsparing statement of its character and
causes, deserve different treatment from the brief paragraph
of unlimited condemnation, in which Gibbon sums up the
character of the Novella? in his chapter xliv., quoting and
apparently endorsing the opinion of Montesquieu, that “ these
incessant and for the most part trifling alterations can be
only explained by the venal spirit of a prince, who sold with-
out shame his judgments and his laws ”. Change was urgently
necessary, both on the surface and at the heart. In St.
Basil of Cmsareia we have a great administrator, whose
plans of cure for the deeper evils affecting his country were
wise and statesmanlike, though, as was natural, too purely
ecclesiastical to be complete. But he could make no pro—
vision to ensure a succession of Basils. The Roman Empire
IEntirely confirmed by other evidence, e.g., an inscription recently found
in Pisidia of the year 527 (Bulletin de Corresjn Hellénique, 1893, p. 501
ff.).
Sl. Basil the Greaz‘ 393

had too much neglected its duty of creating a sufficient
educational system for the people; and the society of the
Roman Provinces was not fertile and vigorous enough to
produce a series of men like Basil.
Twelve years ago, the greatest of living historians, Pro-
fessor Theodor Mommsen, said to the present writer that, if
he were now beginning a new life of scholarship, he would
take up the period between Diocletian and justinian. The
scholar who devotes himself to that period will be filled with
a growing admiration for Basil; and he will recognise the
merits and the scholarly insight of the books which we have
taken as the text of this paper. Any ambitious young
scholar, who wishes to do real service by increasing our
knowledge of past history, will find here an open field. ; and
he could not better begin than by a systematic study of the
society presented to us in the pages of the three great Fathers.
The voluminous writings of the three contemporary Cap-
padocians, Basil and the two Gregories, apart from the
purely theological and ecclesiastical interest, possess a high
value as storing up many facts about the state of society
and of education, about the administration and law of the
late Roman Empire as practically affecting the people, about
the taxpayers’ views on taxation, the travellers’ views as to
the roads and the seasons, the householder’s views on the
safety of his property, the merchants’ and the investors’
views on the public credit and the standard of commercial
honesty ; in short, about the ordinary life of a highly organ-
ised community, in which the Oriental style of society and
manners was being replaced by the European; and, above
all, they show us the views entertained by three men of
power and education as to the duties of the Church in its
relation to all these various interests. A study of the three
394 XV. Life in the Days of

great Cappadocians from this point of view would make a
most instructive and interesting work.
After this glance at the times and surroundings of Basil,
it is fair to look at the man himself.
He was probably the most vigorous, striking and manly
figure in the Church of Asia Minor under the Empire of
Constantinople, though some blemishes of temper and of
pride have combined with a certain hardness and want of
sympathy in his nature to render him an object of less
interest in history than he deserves. Mr. Jackson’s trans-
lation is at once pleasant to read as English, and true to
the letter and to the spirit of the original; and we may
hope that it will succeed (as it deserves) in drawing more
attention on the part of classical scholars to the varied
interest of the Christian writers of the period in question.
In Mr. Jackson’s prolegomena we have a careful account
of the life of Basil, and a very full account of the works
which are not translated here. In the biography, the results
of earlier writers, Tillemont and Maran (the Benedictine
editor), are worked up; and there is added to them a much
more precise localisation of the scenes, in which recent geo-
graphical discoveries are utilised. Naturally, however, the
biography is secondary -to the translation; and there is still
need for a careful study of the life of Basil and for a more
exact determination of the dates of his letters as well as of
the larger works. Several interesting incidents in his history
seem to me not to have been properly understood; and the
dates assigned to some letters by the Benedictine editor (and
accepted by Mr. Jackson) are in several cases not convincing
and even quite unsatisfactory.1 While we cannot enter on
v w..-
1 The biography of Basil in Dictionary of Christian Biography, meritori-
ous and useful as it is, is too much guided by the earlier modern authorities.
St. Basil the Great 395

any such wider questions within our narrow limits, we may
profitably devote some few pages here to studying, under
the guidance of Mr. Jackson, a few passages which bring
out some personal characteristics of “St. Basil the Great ”;
and, at the same time, the quotations will exemplify the
spirit and excellence of the translation in this volume.
The letter which faced me, as I first opened the volume,
N o. 13 5, may be taken as a specimen, selected at random,
of the translation and of Basil’s expression. Basil acknow-
ledges two books which Diodorus, Presbyter of Antioch
(afterwards Bishop of Tarsus), had sent him for perusal.
“With the second,” he says, “I was delighted, not only
with its brevity . . . but because it is at once full of thought
and so arranged that the objections of opponents and the
answers to them stand out distinctly. . . . The former
work, which has practically the same force, but is much more
elaborately adorned with rich diction, many figures, and
niceties of dialogue, seems to me to require considerable time
to read and much mental labour, both to gather its meaning
and retain it in the memory. The abuse of our opponents
and the support of our own side, which are thrown in, al-
though they may seem to add some charms of dialectic to the
treatise, do yet break the continuity of the thought and
weaken the strength of the argument by causing interruption
and delay. . . . If the subject of the dialogue be wide and
general, digressions against persons interrupt its continuity
and tend to no good end. . . . So much I have written to
prove that you did not send your work to a fiatterer. . . -
I have, however, now sent back the larger and earlier of the
two volumes, after perusing it as far as I have been able.1
1The effect of this rather suggestive statement is toned down in the
original by a sentence here omitted about Basil’s weak health.
396 XV. Life in the Days of

The second I have retained with the wish to transcribe it,
but hitherto without finding any quick writer.” 1
This letter conveys a very favourable impression (and a
correct impression) of Basil’s tone to his friends, and to
those who thought like himself: it is judicious in its
criticism, pointed and simple in expression, polite and
kindly in tone; it advises without assumption, and en-
courages without flattering.
Everywhere the warmth of Basil’s affection for friends
and relatives, and the pleasant recollection of old associa-
tions, combined with his good sense and lofty tone, con-
vey a most favourable impression. Take a few examples:
“ One would rather see his friend, though angry with him,
than anybody else, flattering him. Do not, then, cease
preferring charges like the last! The very charge will
mean a letter; and nothing can be more precious or de-
lightful to me” (Ep. 21). Or this: “Now for my sins, I
have lost my mother, the only comfort I had in life. Do
not smile if, old as lam, I lament my orphanhood. For-
give me if I cannot endure separation from a soul, to
compare with whom I see nothing in the future that lies
before me. So once more my complaints have come back
to me, once more I am confined to my bed, tossing about
in my weakness, and every hour all but looking for the
end of life” (57). 30). Or again, these recollections of
childhood from 5]). 271: “To travel once again in
memory to our young days, and to be reminded of old
times, when for both of us there was one home, one hearth,
1 This shows a rather low standard of the book-trade in Cmsarea, one of
the greatest commercial cities of the East. Without such scribes, the
publication of an edition of a book was impossible. A similar statement is
made by Gregory Nyss., E15. 15 (Migne).
Sl. Basil the Greal 397

the same schoolmaster, the same leisure, the same work,
the same treats, the same hardships, and everything shared
in common! What do you think I would not have given
to recall all this by actually meeting you, to rid me of the
heavy weight of my old age, and to seem to be turned from
an old man into a lad again l ”
But it was not pleasant to be on the opposite side from
Basil. Speaking of the Arians, he is hardly to be trusted
even as to facts. He felt too bitterly; and he exaggerated
so rhetorically, that his words cannot be taken literally.
Thus in 5;). 242 he declares that in the thirteen years of
Arian persecution “the Churches have suffered more tribu-
lations than all those that are on record since Christ’s
gospel was first preached ”—-an utterly unjustifiable state-
ment (against which Mr. jackson rightly, perhaps too
mildly, protests, as “not to be taken literally”). The
harsh and rude invective which Basil uses about his
opponents is the fault of his age, and, while we regret it,
we cannot wonder at it.
Difficult, however, as it is to appreciate the real character
of the Arian controversy as a question of social life, on
the whole we gather, I think, that the progressive ten-
dencies were on the side of Basil, and acquiescence in
the existing standard of morality characterised the Arian
point of view. The “Orthodox” Church was still the
champion of higher aspirations, and Basil, however harsh
he was to all who differed from him, was an ennobling and
upward-struggling force in the life of his time. At a later
period the facts changed; and, in the Iconoclast period,
the sympathy of the modern student must, I think, be
almost wholly against the successors of Basil, and in favour
of the maligned and despised heretics.
398 XV. Life in the Days of
The contest in which Basil was involved against the
Imperial power in regard to the division of Cappadocia into
two provinces produced the most striking scenes of his life,
and displayed both his strongest qualities and his worst
faults of character. The questions at issue in this contest
seem not to have been correctly apprehended by writers on
the life of Basil. The policy of the Byzantine rule had
been uniformly directed to subdividing the great provinces,
and thus diminishing the power of provincial governors.
Subdivision was the natural result of the centralisation of
authority, the exaggeration of the power of the court, and
the diminishing of the power of officials at a distance from
the court. Cappadocia was by far the largest of the pro—
vinces; its turn had now come to be subdivided, and in 371
the Arian Emperor Valens resolved on this step. He may
probably have been roused to it by the fact that the influ-
ence of Caesareia, under its vigorous and uncompromising
“ orthodox” bishop, was dead against his ecclesiastical policy.
It was natural that he should wish to diminish that influence;
but in itself the subdivision would naturally have been soon
made even by an orthodox emperor; and at a later time
Justinian divided Cappadocia into three parts. The bias of
Valens was shown, however, by his leaving the smaller part
of Cappadocia to the metropolis Caesareia, and making the
new province of Secunda Cappadocia decidedly larger. The
officials who lived at Cmsareia, and the business which came
to it, were much diminished, as the province of which it was
the metropolis shrank to less than half its former size. The
city, naturally, regarded the change with dismay, and pro-
tested strongly. Basil exerted himself to the utmost; but
the three letters which he wrote intreating the intercession of
certain influential persons with Valens in favour of Caesareia,
St. Basil the Great 399

are among the poorest in the collection.1 They are inflated
and exaggerated in their description of the loss that would
result to Caesareia; they show no appreciation either on the
one hand of the real causes that recommended the subdivision,
or on the other of the weighty reasons that might have been
urged against the centralising policy. In fact the whole
system of the Orthodox Church was in favour of centralisa-
tion; and Basil himself would have been the most vigorous
supporter of that policy in any case where it did not affect
his own city and his own archbishopric. He could not argue
on strong grounds against the change, for his whole system
of thought debarred him from those grounds, and his protests
are weak and hysterical.
The true greatness of Basil, however, shone forth im-
mediately afterwards, when Valens came to Caesareia. The
archbishop triumphantly resisted the efforts made by the
creatures of Valens to overawe him and bend him to the
will of the Arian Emperor. Valens himself was not blind to
the nobility and dignity of Basil's character; he left the
archbishop in secure possession of his rank and the freedom
of his opinions; he attended Divine service performed by
him in the cathedral ; he held private conference with him;
and he gave land2 to endow Basil’s new foundation, the
hospital, etc., near Caesareia. Considering how bitter was
1 E7575. 74, 75, 76. The first is addressed to Martinianus, who had some
personal friendship with Basil; otherwise he is unknown, but he evidently
was not a Cappadocian official. The profusion of literary allusions in the
letter, and the compliments to the knowledge of history and of mankind that
Martinianus possessed, suggest that he was a philosopher or man of letters.
He evidently lived at some distance both from Constantinople and from Cap-
padocia. Mr. Jackson’s statement that he was an official of Cappadocia
rests on no ancient authority, and seems to me not to suit the letter.
2 Mr. Jackson's suggestion that they were part of the Imperial estate of
Macellum, beside Caesareia, is very probable.
400 X V. Life in the Days of

the quarrel at this time between the Arian and the orthodox
party, Valens deserves more credit in this case than he has
generally received. But, as to Basil, every one must say,
with Mr. Jackson, that “his attitude seems to have been
dignified without personal haughtiness, and to have shown
sparks of that quiet humour which is rarely exhibited in
great emergencies except by men who are conscious of right
and'careless of consequences to self”.
But, in the following months, the quarrel with Anthimus,
Bishop of Tyana, the metropolis of the new province of
Cappadocia Secunda, shows Basil at his worst. He struggled
to maintain his former rights over the churches and mon-
asteries of the new province with undignified pertinacity.
He created new bishoprics, not on account of the needs of
the Church, but to increase the number of his supporters
and their weight ; and his old friend Gregory of Nazianzos
could hardly forget or forgive the way in which Basil used
him for his own purposes by almost forcing him to become
Bishop of Sasima, one of these new sees. He went in person
to collect the revenues of St. Orestes (what Gregory calls
sarcastically his “supply of sucking-pigs and poultry from
St. Orestes ”), and his servants came almost to a battle with
those of his rival. Basil certainly would'have justified his
action in the same terms that Innocent, Bishop of Rome,
used shortly afterwards, about 408, that it was not right
that the Church of God should be altered to suit the changes
of this world.1 But every attempt made to maintain that
principle, fine as it seems in words, was a failure under the
Empire, and must be a failure. The classification of dioceses
was not of the essence of the Church; it naturally and pro-
perly varied with the changes of society, and prosperity, and
1 SeeEHistorieal Geography of Asia Minor, p. 93.
St. Basil the Great 401

political arrangement. The reason why Caesareia had been
an ecclesiastical centre lay originally in its being the political
capital, and therefore the natural centre from which the
province could best be affected and its churches directed.
But, when Tyana had become the metropolis of considerable
part of Cappadocia, it was merely introducing confusion to
maintain that the cities of that province should look to
Cmsareia ecclesiastically, when they must look to Tyana in
political, legal and social respects. Neither Anthimus nor
Basil showed in this case true dignity, or self-respect, or the
respect due to a colleague; but, while no one cares about
Anthimus, it is painful to those who respect and admire a
great man to read about Basil’s action, and above all to read
his condemnation in the estrangement of his old friend
Gregory, who had at first supported him in the case.
Many touches of the raillery which became rude and
unpleasant towards his opponents,1 appear in a much more
pleasant style when he writes to his friends.
He has found out that “there does seem something
thinner than I was—I am thinner than ever”.
In 5;. 4 he acknowledges a gift under the guise of a
complaint that the giver is “evicting from our retreat my
dear friend and nurse of philosophy, Poverty”.
Twitting Gregory with the shortness of his letters, he
says, “The letter is shown to be yours, not so much by the
writing as by the style of the communication : in few words
much is expressed”.
The tone of these quotations doubtless gives the key to
explain the rather enigmatic Ej). I, where he speaks as if
his travels through Syria and Egypt had been undertaken
1As when (E15. 231) he calls one (perhaps Demosthenes, the agent of
Valens) “ the fat sea-monster ” and “ the old muleteer ”.
26
402 XV. Life in the Days of

for the single purpose of meeting Eustathius, the philosopher
to whom the letter is addressed.
In 5;. 56, apologising for leaving a letter unanswered
until his correspondent wrote again, he says, “I naturally
forget very easily, and I have had lately many things to do,
and so my natural infirmity is increased. I have no doubt,
therefore, that you wrote to me, although I have no recol-
lection of having received any letter from your excellency.
. . . Really this letter of mine, as it is more than twice
as bulky (as yours), will fulfil a double purpose. You see
to what sophisms my idleness [surely laziness] drives me.
. But, my dear sir, do not in a few words bring serious
charges, indeed the most serious of all. Forgetfulness of
one’s friends, and neglect of them arising from high place,
are faults which involve every kind of wrong. . . . I shall
begin to forget you when I cease to know myself. Never,
then, think that, because a man is a very busy man he is a
man of faulty character.”
The dignity, mingled with humility and desire for peace,
shown in the two letters to his uncle Gregory, 59, 60, may
be referred to as illustrating the graver and loftier side of
his character.
As examples of the sound and high judgment, which
placed him on the right side in most great social questions,
we may quote the opinion which, when he writes to a phy-
sician, he states about his profession as being at the head
and front of life’s pursuits (see p. 380).
He refers in 5;). 191 with longing admiration to the
hospitable intercourse which “was once the boast of the
Church. Brothers from each Church, travelling from one
end of the world to the other, were provided with little
tokens, and found all men fathers and brothers. But now,”
St. Basil the Great 403

he says, “we are confined each in his own city, and every
one looks at his neighbour with distrust”.
Basil was ready to defend the weak against the strong.
In 5;. 73 he uses the whole influence of his position and
of the Church to save some slaves from harsh punishment
at the hands of Callisthenes, a government official 1 to whom
they had behaved rudely. “Though you have sworn to
deliver them to execution as the law enjoins, my rebuke is
still of no less value, nor is the Divine law of less account
than the laws current in the world.” See p. 388.
Basil’s tone in addressing women lacks the charming ease
that generally characterises his letters to his male corre-
spondents. An illustration is supplied in the two letters
which he addressed to Nectarius, a noble of Cilicia, and
his wife, on the death of their only son. The letter to
Nectarius (N o. 5), in spite of the rhetorical touch (which
may be pardoned, as it stands alone), “if all the streams
run tears, they will not adequately weep our woe,” is very
fine, and the conclusion is charming, “Let us wait a little
while, and we shall be once more with him. The time of
our separation is not long, for in this life we are all like
travellers on a journey, hastening on to the same shelter”;
and so on in terms that have now become, through famili-
arity and repetition, less impressive than they were to Basil’s
contemporaries. But the letter to the bereaved mother is
farinferior. “ Alas, for the mighty mischief that the contact
with an evil demon was able to wreak. Earth! what a
calamity thou hast been compelled to sustain! If the sun
had any feeling, one would think he might have shuddered,”
etc. After these bombastic commonplaces of rhetoric, he
1 He is shown to be an official by his having the power to send a soldier
to Czesareia with a message on the subject.
404 XV. Life in the Days of

addresses the bereaved mother in almost equally frigid con-
solations. “When first you were made a mother, . . . you
knew that, a mortal yourself, you had given birth to a mortal.
What is there astonishing in the death of a mortal? . . .
Look round at all the world in which you live; remember
that everything you see is mortal, and all subject to cor-
ruption. Look up to heaven, even it shall be dissolved;
look at the sun, not even the sun will last for ever. All the
stars together,” etc., etc., “are subject to decay.” In the
early part of the letter Basil says, “I know what a mother’s
heart is”; but Mr. Jackson, in his note on the words, well
remarks that the mother might have replied in the words of
Constance to Pandulph: "‘ He talks to me that never had a
son”. A certain externality and hardness of tone character-
ises the letter, and makes it more of a rhetorical exercise
than a spontaneous outburst of sympathy.
A few passages occur to me in which it may be doubted
whether Mr. Jackson has fully caught the meaning. For
example, 5;). 8, 1, when, evidently, Basil is replying to a
letter of the people of Cmsareia, asking him to return from
his sojourn with Gregory, he says: “ Give me, therefore, I
beg you, a little time. I am not embracing a city life.”
Mr. Jackson adds the note: “z'.e., the life of the city, pre-
sumably N azianzus, from which he is writing”. But surely
a person who writes to the great city of Caesareia from the
small town of N azianzus, and speaks of “city life” ("rip e’v
"raZs 776N501, Sta’Tplfifllv), must be referring to life in Cmsareia,
not life in N azianzus. Moreover, I cannot doubt, both from
the context and the localities, that Basil was at the moment
dwelling, not in Nazianzus, but in Carbala or Caprales (still
called Gelvere), where Gregory’s home was situated, where
he was (as he intimates) enjoying the life of retirement and
St. Basil the Great 405

contemplation, and where to this day the memorials of
Gregory are preserved, and the rock-cells mark the abode of
many hermits in the succeeding ages.1 I should venture to
suggest that a thought has been left unexpressed by Basil
from brevity and rapidity, and that the sense is, “a little
time, pray, a little time grant me, I beg; [and then I shall
come to you,] not welcoming the life of cities (for I am quite
well aware of the danger caused to the soul in that life), but
judging that the society of the saints [as contrasted with the
solitary life of the hermit] is the most practically useful.
[But grant me the delay,] for in the constant free interchange
of ideas [with ‘Gregory, Christ’s mouth ’] I am acquiring a
deep-seated habit of contemplation.” Elsewhere, also, Basil
declares plainly his opinion that the life of action and public
work is the more honourable, as it is the more wearisome and
difficult and unpleasant side of the truly religious life.
As another example, take 5;. 190, §1 : “The most care-
less observer must at once perceive that it is in all respects
more advantageous for care and anxiety to be divided among
several bishops”. This reads like a general maxim intended
for wide application; but the Greek seems to me to need a
different sense, applying solely to the case of Isaura, now
under consideration, “ it is more advantageous that the care
of the district be divided2 among several bishops”. The
case, which had been referred to Basil by Amphilochius, Arch-
1 The exact localisation of the home of Gregory, on the estate Arianzos,
beside the village Carbala (or Caprales, Basil, E15. 308), about eight miles
south-west of Nazianzus (now called Nenizi), is made in Historical Geography
of Asia Minor, p. 286; see also Sir C. Wilson’s Handbook to Asia M'inor, etc.
(Murray), p. 169. The modern village of Gelvere is built in the Tiberina,
described by Gregory Naz., E15. 6, 7, a narrow, rocky, picturesque glen, like
a hole in the plain (4,500 feet above sea-level), “the very pit of the whole
earth,” as Basil calls it (Ep. 14).
2623 ‘II'AElOl/CLS é'rrto'lcd'n-ovs naraErarpeQfiuar 'r'hr uépiiwar.
406 XV. St. Basil the Great

bishop of Iconium, for advice, was a remarkable one. The
large district round the great city Isaura had fallen into utter
disorganisation (probably owing to the unruly character of the
Isaurians, who were frequently in rebellion). Several bishops
were needed for the care of so large a district. Basil would
prefer that a bishop for the city should first be appointed, who
might afterwards associate others with himself, as his ex-
perience showed him that they might be most usefully placed.
But, owing to the danger that the bishop might be tempted
by ambition to rule over a larger diocese, and might not con-
sent to the ordination of others, he felt it safer to appoint in
the first place bishops ('n-po'i'o'ra/tévovq) to the small towns or
villages which were formerly the seats of bishops, and there-
after to select the bishop of the city.1 We have here a good
example of the decay of bishoprics in political troubles, of
the revival of disused bishoprics, and of the trouble that
might be caused by an ambitious prelate.
Some other examples have struck me where opinions as
to the meaning are likely to differ. But when we consider
how little care has been devoted to the elucidation of Basil,
and contrast it with the voluminous studies that have con-
tributed to the long and difficult growth of the interpretation
of Horace, or Virgil, or Sophocles, we can better appreciate
the difficulties that Mr. Jackson had to face, and better esti-
mate the gratitude we owe him.
1 On the desire of bishops to extend their authority over smaller cities
and to diminish the number of bishops, see Studies in the History and Art of
the Eastern Provinces (Hodder & Stoughton, 1906), p. 28 f.
INDEX
Paul— Paul (continued)—
Age of, 37, 67, 362.
Author of Colossians, 302.
Character as painted by Mr. Bar-
ing-Gould, 325 ff.
Chronology, 67, 345-65.
Command of money, 336 (St.
Paul the Trav., p. 310
Comparison of, with John and
Peter, 31, 33.
Conversion of, 10, 16 f., 70 ff; sud-
den and not gradually prepared,
71, 87; completion, not reversal,
of his ideas, 72, 8o, 87, go, 96;
variations in story of, 17, 19 f.
Courtesy of, 36 f., 39.
“ Critical” theories about, 11, 17,
22, 40 f., 49 f., 301-2.
Dates, 67, 345-65.
Defence before Sanhedrin, 83 ff.,
96.
Divine alone is real, 71.
Education, according to Mr. Bar-
ing-Gould, 330 f. ; but see
also under Curtius and Hicks,
and 334 f.
Errors due to over-straining and
over-emphasis, 3o, 34 f.
Feminine element in his nature,
337-
“ Fought with beasts,” 316, 332.
“ Fulness of time,” what this
implies about Paul, 335.
Gentiles, theory of position of the,
8 ; commissioned to, 73 f. ; feel-
ing to, 66.
Hellenism, relation of Paul to, 62,
259. 330 BC-
High-Priest, why unknown to
Paul, 95.
His theory of degeneration in re—
ligion, 5, 164 f.
Humanity the secret of his charm
for us, 28 ff., 34, 82.
Influence of, on history, 53.
Jealousy? 38.
Jews and Paul, 89, 308 f.
Journey from Cazsareia to Jerusa-
lem, 266.
Kingdom of God, 81. See Mes-
siah.
Legendary localities at T arsus,
275, 277-
Letters of, written for the needs of
the moment, 82.
Luke and Paul, 44.
Martyr at Derbe, 295.
Messiah, eager from childhood for
the coming of, 66 f., 69, 80 f.
Name, 65.
Not married, 68 f.
Olive-tree in Paul, 219-32.
Organiser, an, 53, 64, 78. See
Plan.
Pharisee, a, 64, 73, 83-94.
Plan for conquering the Roman
Empire, 74, 80, 100, 197 ff., 256
ff
Rank in society, 37, 376.
Reason for persecuting Christians,
69 f.
Revelation, his belief in, to him-
self was honest, 10; not result
of madness, 11.
Revelation, believed in real, 3 f.,
8 f., 22, 71; perception of it in-
tuitive and certain, 20, 71 f.
Revelation, universal and not con-
fined to Jews, 4.
(407)
408
I na'ex

Persons.
Saints and Jews-
Paul (continued )—
Roman, 56, 60, 65, 331-34, 340;
Empire, see Plan.
Saul or Paul, 305.
Sergius Paulus, 305.
Stoppage of work after his conver-
sion, 73 f.
Successor of Aristotle in the pro-
gress of philosophy, 259.
Tarsus, effect on Paul, 54, 56, 59,
61, 80, 331 f.
The theory that he was subject to
epileptic madness, 11.
Timothy, conduct to, 34 f., 337.
Truthfulness or the opposite, 84 f.
Unwilling to work where other
Apostles were first, 79.
Visits to Jerusalem, 310 ff.; the
first, 30.
Why not mentioned in 1 Peter,
260 f.
I. Early Christians,
IEtius, 371.
Amphilochius, 170, 188, 405.
Ananus, High-priest, 355 ff., 358.
Anastasius of Antioch, I42.
Anthimus, 400.
Apollos, 303.
Aquila, 303, 361.
Arius, 372.
Asai, Rabbi, 69.
Avircius Marcellus, 141, 185, 257.
Barnabas, 73, 319.
Basil, 132, 284, 369-406; aristo-
crat, 375 f., 387; character,
393-403; conduct to slaves, 388
f., 403; opinion of physicians,
380-402; style, 369 f.
Callisthenes, 388, 403.
Chariton, St., 188.
Chrysostom, 362.
Constantine and Helena,
188.
Crispus, 309.
Demetrius, St., 133.
Diodorus, 395.
Dorotheos, 387.
Epiphanius, 144 f.
Eunomius, 371, 391.
Eusebius, 348-60.
Eusebius, bishop, 382, 391.
Eustochius, 389.
Firmilian, Bishop of Casareia, 184.
Sts.,
Persons. I. Early Christians,
Saints and Jews (canal)—
Gamaliel, 67, 331.
George, St., 188, 297.
Glycerius, 184, 381.
Gregory Naz., 370, 380, 383, 388,
392, 400, 401, 404.
Gregory Nyssenus, 367, 369-77,
383 f.
Hegesippus, 358.
Herod Asrlppa. 350. 353. 357-
Hesychius, 390.
Ignatius, 140, 141.
James, 150, 358.
John. I40. 144. I48 f-. 153; Per-
fect insight, 31 f.; comparison
with Paul, 31, 33.
Joseph, High-priest, 355 ff.
Josephus, 353.
Justinian, 275, 392.
Justus of Tiberias, 351.
Lazarus, 148.
Luke, 44, 58, 85, 94, 96, 191-200,
203-15. 256-59. 301-24-
Lydia, 336.
Macrina, St., 177.
Mark, 262, 303.
Martyrius, 287.
Mary, Virgin, 144, 151; her wor—
ship as Divine, 125-59.
Maximus, 390.
Mnason, 98.
Nectarius, 403.
Nestorius, 144.
Nicholas, St., 131, 133.
Nicolas, 34o.
Origen, 238 f., 245.
Orosius, 361.
Panagia, 129-57, 188.
Paul the Martyr at Derbe, 295.
Peter, 254 f., 260, 269; perfect
insight, 31 f.; comparison with
Paul, 31, 33; his age, 261.
Philip, 150, 188, 296.
Phocas, St., 131.
Polycarp, his calm dignity at trial
and death, 63, 105.
Priscilla, 303.
Proclus, Bishop of Cyzicus, 142.
Sabas, St., 188.
Silas, 262.
Stephen, 338, 340.
Theodore, St., 385.
Theresa, St., 337.
Index 409

Persons. I. Early Christians, Persons. III. Modern Schol-
Saints and jews (£07Zld.)— ars and Poets (confirmed)—
’ ’ ' 1 a r . _
Titius justus, Gibbonn ’ 3 5
Valens, 398 f. _ Q _ Goethe,’ 90_
Persons. II. Historical, chiefly Green, T. H., 20 f., 259.
Mediaeval— Hardy, E. G., 210.
Abd-Allah a1 Sayyid, 168. Head1am»A- Q, 187, 230, 246-
Ahmed, Karadja, 171. Hebeidgyi I44-
Ala-ed-Din Sultan, 168. Hege a32-
ApMamun’ 286. Heldreich, von, 248 f.
Baldwin, 283. H}CkS, E- A» 64, 204, 203, 332.
Bektash, Hadji, 169, 171. Hlcks, E" 334-
Haroun-al-Raschid, 275 f., 283. Hogarth, D- G-r 187-
Ibn Khordadhbeh, 290. Hort’ F- .l- A-: I97, 212, 215, 260,
Ibrahim Pasha, 279. 263, 258-
Irene, 276. Humann, I78-
Moltke, von, 279 Jackson, Blomfield, 369-406.
Omar, Hadji, 171; Baba, 171. Kubltscihekr 280-
Seidi Ghazi, 168 rt, 176. leanslols, 274. 280.
Sinan Pasha, 17L hevy, Is1d., 66, :zog, 212.
Tancred’ 283 Lewis, F. W., 261.
Theophilus, 276, 284- %Lgslétlllfgghvljishgrg 2074, 209, 259.
a a n: a -
Persons. I II. Modern Schol- Macalister, 2m 3 9
ars and Poets— McGiffert, A. 0., 301-21.
Anderson, J. G. G., 109, 120. McLean, N., 220.
Arnold, M., 31. Massy, C01., 285.
Bacon, B- W-. 347, 351- Meyer, 213-
Baring—Gould, S., 38, 58, 231, 238, Mohl, 168.
308, 325-42- Mommsen, 103. 176, 194.352, 393-
Benndorf, 0., 2, 178. Neubauer, A., 66.
Bentley, R., 320. Nicolaides, 177.
Blass, F., 209, 213, 263. ~ Page, T. B., 206, 213.
Blumner, 249. Paris, P., 107.
Brentano, 128 f., 147. Post, Dr., 220, 237, 250.
Browning, E. B., 43 ; R., 15. Puchstein, 178.
Bruzza, 254. Radet, G., 107.
Carnoy, I77. Renan, 97 f.
Chapot, V., 109, note 2. Rendall, F., 52, 78.
Christie, Dr. T. D., of Tarsus, 273. Rhoscomyl, Owen, 326.
Clemen, G., 199. Robertson, A., 198.
Cumont, F., 110. Sanday, W., 81, 230 ff.
Curtius, E., his understanding of Schaffer, 172.
Paul, 64, 332. Souter, A., 111, 127, 140, 150.
Deissmann, 265. Stolberg, Count, 128.
Dennis, Geo., 247. Tennyson, 34.
Emmerich, Anne G., 125-47. Thomson, W. M., 239, 243.
Erbes, 350 f. 354. Trail, ]. W. H., 219.
Ethé, 168. Tristram, Canon, 242, 246, 249.
Ewbank, 229. Turner, C. H., 347.
Fabri, Felix, 385. Wace, H., 370.

Farrar, F. W., 84, 88. Wallace, W., 33.
410
fndex
Persons.
Persons.
III. Modern Schol-
ars and Poets (continued )—
Weil, 284.
Wendt, 209, 213.
X/Vestcott, B. F., 212, 215.
Wetstein, 209.
Wilson, Sir Charles W., 172, 178.
Workman, H. B., 107.
Zahn, Th., 199, 263.
IV. Pagans-—
Agrippa, 51.
Albinus, procurator, 355.
Amyntas, 265.
Antigonus, 283.
Antonius, 265.
Aretas, 364.
Artemidorus, 221.
Athanatos, 110 ff.
Augustus, 51, 350.
Caesar, 5o.
Caligula, 349.
Chrysostom, Dion, 210.
Claudius, 113.
Columella, 224, 231.
Decius, 109 f.
Diocletian, 103, 116, 373.
Domitian, 109.
Epitynchanos, 109 ff, 120.
Eumenes, 376.
Felix, 82, 349.
Festus. 349. 351. 354r f-
Florus, procurator, 36o.
Gallio, 83, 361 f.
Hadrian, 52.
Herodotus, 184, 187.
Homer, 244.
Marcus Aurelius, 289.
Maximin, 111.
Nero, 338.
Ovid, 32o.
Palladius, 224, 227.
Pausanias, 221, 249.
Philostratus, 117.
Plato, I77, 339-
Pliny the Younger, 109, 175, 195,
210, 376.
Plutarch, 237, 376.
Pompey, 265.
Seneca, 53, 82, 100, 361.
Severus Imp., 28o.
Theophrastus, 245, 249.
Theoteknos, 107.
Varenus Rufus, 21o.
Virgil, 177, 250.

Places——
Achaia, 78, 198, 361.
Adana, 274, 278.
Adria, 76.
Akmonia, 109, 110, 111.
Alexandria, 77, 359.
Al-Saffsaf, 289.
Anasha-Kale, 284.
Ancyra, 108, 119.
Annesi, 387, 391.
Athens, 383.
Antioch, Pisid., 112-21, 198, 262.
Ardistama, 169.
Argeos, Argaios, 292, 297.
Asia, 78, 121, 198, 313.
Assos, 339.
Ayassoluk, 127.
Babylon, 255.
Beroea, 85, 340.
Berytus, 359.
Bethany, 148.
Bithynia, 210.
Bozanti, Vale of, or Butrentum,
284.
Britain, 79.
Brundusium, 359.
Caesareia Cappad., 385, 389, 396,
399-
Caesareia Phil., 353, 356..’
Caesareia Stratonis, 98, 260, 349,
359.
Capernaum, 58.
Cappadocia. I83, 373. 377-
Carbala, 404.
Cayster, 152.
Ceadas, 284.
Cilicia, 73, 78, 273; bounds of,
281, 283, 287.
Cilician Gates, 277-82.
Colossae, 184.
Comana, 183.
Constantina, 385.
Constantinople, 17o.
Coressus, 157.
Corfu, 236.
Corinth, 309, 361.
Corniaspa, Cybistra, see K.
Crete, 76 (Phoenix, 77), 359.
Cydnus, 274 f.
Cyprus’ 751 Cyrene, 248.
Dakalias, 296.
Dalisandos, 187.
Dalmatia, 78.
Index
411
Places (continued)—
Damascus, 170.
Demetriopolis, 133.
Derbe, 262, 294 f.
Diolcus, 34o.
Doara, 171.
Dokimion, 253 f.
Egypt, 238 f.
Eleusis, 185.
Ephesus, 77 f., 125-59, 197, 203-
15, 297, 316, 360; champion of
truth, 140; topography of, 152.
Faustiniana Colonia (Faustinopo-
lis), 289.
Galatia, 78, 199 f.,378.
Galatia, North, 109, 304.
Galatia, South, 75, 79, 121, 199,
262, 304, 310, 361.
Gallia, 79.
Gate of Judas, 283.
Hadji Baba, 294.
Halala, 182, 289.
Herakleia, Hirakla, 290 f.
Hittite Silvermines, 288.
Hyde, I75.
Ibriz, 172 f., 291.
Iconium, 170, 177, 188, 198, 262,
295. 298. 386-
Iflatun Bunar, 170, 177.
Ilistra, 294.
Illyricum, 78, 198.
Isaura, 119, 405.
Isauria, 107.
Jerusalem, 30, 67, 97, 167, 170,
234.
Kirkindje, I45.
Kodrigai, 28o.
Korniaspa, 372.
Kybistra 290.
Laodicea, 183.
Laranda, 292.
Limnai, 118.
Liyen, I71.
Loulon, 289 f.
Lycaonia, scenery of, 292.
Lycia, 75, 187, 265.
Lystra, 262, 295 f., 318.
Macedonia, 78, 198, 337.
Mallos, 279.
Mecca, 167, 175.
Medina, 167.
Meiros, 111.
Metropolis, 133.
Missis, 274.

Places (continued)—
Mizpeh, 98.
Mopsou-Krene, 282.
Mopsouhestia, 273.
Mount of Olives, 98.
Mudania, 171.
Mudjur, 171.
Nahr-el-Ahsa, 297.
Nakoleia, 168, 176.
Nazianzus, 404.
Neronias, 353.
Novum Comum, 175.
Oltiseris, 372.
Ormelian Estates of Emperors,121.
Ortygia, 157.
Pamphylia, 75, 265.
Panhormus, 284.
Phi1iPPi.336 f., 347. 352-
Phrygia, 118, 378.
Podandos, 284.
Pompeii, 176.
Possala, Passola, 294.
Prostanna, 297.
Puteoli, 76, 359.
Pyramos, 273.
Pyrgos, 294.
Rodentos, 285.
Samos, I53.
Saros, 273.
Sasima, 177, 389, 400.
Satala, 175.
Seidi-Ghazi, 168.
Sidamaria, 292.
Sideropolos, 292.
Spain, 79, 198.
Sykea, 385.
Synnada, 244, 253 f.
Takali Dagh, 290.
Tarshish, 276, 279.
Tarsus, 274—79.
Tembrion, 120, 122.
Temenothyree, 118.
Thessalonica, 34o.
Thyatira, 170.
T iberina, 404.
Troas, 352, 362.
Trogitis, 297.
Twin-Khan (Tchifte), beauty of,
288.
Tyana, 186, 400.
Ushak, 171.
Venasa, 131 f., 184, 381.
Viaros, 297.
Yassi-Euren, 132.
4;12 lheahzc

Religion. I. Christian (con-
tinned)—
Religion. I. Christian—-


Acts, change in opinion about,
191-96; argument from silence,
315 f. ; date of, 302-26 ; authori-
ties, 303; Source Theory, 305
ff. ; old theories of late date
abandoned, 191; their cause,
192. See Luke.
Agape-meal, 339.
American Missions, 340 f.
“ Apostles,” different senses of the
term, 319.
Ayasma, 132,176, 184.
Birth of Christ on 24th November,
legend, 148.
Bishoprics, enlargement of, 406.
Christianity spread in the strain
of world, 151.
Christians under Mohammedan
veil, 180 f.
Christotokos, 142.
Church called “ Maria,” 142 f.
Council of Constantinople in A.D.
448K373-
Council of Ephesus, 134-44.
Critical, 38, 191 f., 196.
Faminvevjpmelation vi. 5, 224 f.
Twine-re ' , “Tiff,
Feminme element, worship of,
135.157.I8&
“ Friend of All,” 119.
God-fearing, 309.
Holy places ant. iestivals rever-
enced by Mohammedans, 176-
82,188.
Hospitality. See Travelling.
Iconoclasts, 130, 135, 139, 141,
276.397-
Martyrs, tone of, 63.
Montanism, 183.
Mother, worship of, 135.
Orthodox conflict with heretics
weakened the Empire, 139, 276 ;
with Arians, 371-75, 397-401;
Orthodox alone called Chris-
tians, 146.
Pagan revivals imitating Chris-
tian forms, 107 f.
Pagan writers ignored the Chris-
tians, 114 f.
Paganisation of the Church, 108,
129-56, 188.
Panagia, 188.
Panagia-Kapulu, 129-57, 188,381.
Religion.
Panegyris, I34, I46, I88, 299,
381.
Persecutions, 103.
Pilgrimages, 384.
Priests tradesmen in early times,
119,382.
Proselyte, 309.
Revelation of Divine to man, 13.
Revelation, can there be any P 3 ff.
Revelation must occur, 11 ff.
Revelation the most real thing,
22, 71.
Revelation,
varies, 12 f.
Revelation, is it supernatural?
226.
Revelation varies in manner, 15 f.
Revelation not one-sided, 21.
Revelation demands preparation
in man, 21 f.
Symbola as credentials in travel-
ling, 118, 402.
The Christ of Smyrna, 130.
The Saints as denoting the con-
gregation, 107 f.
Travelling intercourse and hospi-
tality, 118, 382-86, 402.
Virgins as an order, 107.
II. Jews—
Attitudc to Paul imperfectly
known, 85.
Danger of their favourable posi-
tion, 65 f.
Diaspora, Dispersion, 61,
Effect on Gentiles (the “ odfear-
ing’).57-
In the Greek cities, 56.
Maccabees, triumph of, its char-
acter and effect, 7.
Must elevate the Gentiles or per-
ish, 66 f.
Passover, 336, 346 ff., 352, 358.
Pharisees, 80, 83, 86, 91.
Prophets, influence of, 7 ; succes-
sion of, 8.
Relation to Rome, 55 f., 58, 66 f.
Sadducees, 85, 91, 97.
Sanhedrin, standing as a tribunal,
83.85.90-_
Woman archrsynagogos, 187.
Zealots, 7, 80.
sensitiveness to,
Index
413
Religion. III. Mohammedan-
15m—
Christians veiled under Moham-
medan exterior, 180 f.
Conquest of Empire, 371.
Dede, character, 171 f.; not true
Moslem, 166 f.
Hadji Baba mountain, 174.
Legend seeks justification for
violent conquest, 169 f.
Local names interpretative of na-
ture rare in Turkey and probably
translated from ancient, 174.
Mecca, Mekke, meaning “holy
place,” 175.
Mevlevi Dervishes, 179.
Mohammedanism strictly op-
posed to the localisation of
Divine nature, 166 f.; but re-
verences numerous ancient holy
places,including many Christian
shrines and festivals, 176-82,188.
Mohammedans lost cultivation of
olive, 235, 244.
Takhtaji, 178 f., 379.
Teke and Turbe, 174, 179, 182.
Vakuf, 175.
Religion. IV. Pagan Gods—
Achilles Pontarches, 131.
Ammon, 109.
Apollo, 109, 273.
Artemis, 113, 118, 138 ff., 157,
212,215.
Asklepios, 130, 131.
Athena, 212, 241.
Cybele, 179.
Daes, 110.
Demeter, 133, 185.
Great Mother, 133, 137 f.
Hekate, 110.
Hercules, 132, 184, 336.
Hermes. 156.
Ma, 107.
Magna Mater.
Manes, 109, 110.
Matar, 109.
Mopsus, 273, 282.
Mother Goddess.
Pappas, 107.
Parthenoi, Parthenos, 108.
Phoebus, 111.
Poseidon, 131.
Telesphoros, 109.
Zeus, 110 f., 131, 241.
See Great.
See Great.

Religion. V. Paganism: Ana,
tolian Custom and Relig-
ion——
Connection with the grave, 179.
Fountains, holy when abundant
and perennial, 172, 176 f., 286.
Hierophant, 109.
Influence on agriculture, etc., 226,
233, 236. _
Inheritance 1n female line, 169,
187.
Justification for violent conquest
sought, 169.
Maguszei, 377-79.
Marriage customs, 377-80.
Mountains, divinity of, 169, 174 f.,
188, 296 f.
Mutterrecht, 137, 186.
Origin and decay, 5, 133, 137,
158, 164 f.
Paul’s view of, 5, 164 f.
Permanence under apparent
change, 167-88.
Plebs collegii, 112.
Takhtaji, 178 f., 379.
Tekmoreioi Xenoi, 112-18.
Trees, holy, 173.
Religion——
Degeneration in religion, 5; causes
of, 6. /
Roman Empire—-
Amalgamator of the nations, 50,
62,112,193,371.
Assembly, Ekklesia, ordinary and
special: the latter discouraged
by the Romans, held only at
order of Roman governor, fell
into disuse, 203-15.
Avitum et patritum, 176.
Book-trade, 396.
Centralisation in later times, 398.
Christianity the critical factor in
Imperial history, 117.
Commune of Province, 105 f.
Conventus, 206.
Devout God-fearing, 57.
Ecclesia, special, 95.
Famine-relief, 391.
Farm-labour, 391.
Favourable position ofjews, 57, 66.
Free Trade, 57.
Hellenism, decay of, 112, 115.
Illicit marriages, 377 f.; by cap-
ture, 378.
414 fna’ex

Roman Empire (contz'nued)-- Roman Empire (continued )—
Imperial estates, 399; the centres
of anti-Christian movements,
121.
Inns and taverns, 384 f.
Jews, 89.
Jews’ relation to, 55.
Jus Gentium, 333.
Magusaei, 377 f.
Mutterrecht, 137, 186.
Organisation, excellence of, 193.
Patria, 61.
Paul’s plan for conquest of, 74, 80,
100.
Persecution of Christians, 103 ff. ;
popular feeling incited to perse-
cution, 103 ; bad effect on educa-
tion, 373 f.
Policy, 50 f.
Provinces, 51, 78, 105, 198, 308,
92.
Reaction and reinvigoration of the
nations against the amalgama-
tion urged by Rome, 52, 112,
I93,37I-
Reinvigorated by Christianity,
100.
Religion of the Empire, 99 f., 113 f.
Riot in streets, 388.
Tetrapyrgia, 376.
Travelling, 382-86,
Voyage.
Voyage from the East to Rome
and back. 76, 354 f-. 357. 359-
Writing, knowledge of, 373, 374.
402. See
Trees——
Fig-tree and Male Fig, 242.
Holy, 173.
Olive, cultivation, relation to
Wild Olive, treatment when
weakened by age, 219-50; the
tree of civilisation, 233.

INDEX
II
Quotations from the New Quotations from the New
Testament— Testament (cam‘z'nueaÜ—
Matthew— Acts—
xi. 19, 31. xxiv. 27, 349.
xxi. 19, 242. xxvi. 4, 67; lg-lfis 11-22, 70.
xxii. 21, 31. xxviii. 6 and xq and 15, 256.
Mark— Romans—
ii. 28, 31. i. 21, 5; 24 ff., 5; hb 55, 166;
xi. 13, 242. 19, 164; 20, 4.
xii. vi. 31. ii. 15, 4; ut f., 4, 164.
Luke— viii. 19-22, xay
vi. 5, 31. xi. 17-24, 219-40.
vii. 5. 58; 35, 31- xv.-ez 79; 24, 79, 198-
xx. 25, 31. I Corinthians—-
john xx. 29, 20. v. 9-13, 36.
Acts— vii. 9, 68.
iii. 2 ff., 318. ix. 1a 71.
iv. 11, 254. xv. 32, 316.
viii. 40, 303. 2 Corinthians—
ix. 4-7, 11-22, 70; 26-29, 30. iv. 8 f., 29.
x. 26, 318. V. 16, 19.
xi. 19, 256; 29, 312. xi. 32, 364.
xiii. 4 ff., 305. Galatians—
xiv. 8-18, 318; q and 14, 319; i. 15 f.,154.
28, 362. ii. 1-12, 40, 307, alo-np
xv. 1 ffi, 40, 307, 310 ff. ; 2, 362. v. 2, 35.
xvi. 1-6, 362; 15 f., 336. Ephesians vi. 13, 332.
xviii. 21, 361 ; 24 ff., 259. 1 Thessalonians v. 8, 332.
xix. 21, 79, 198; 28 f., 307; 39, 2 Timothy iv. 10, 79.
203-12; 40, 212-15. 1 Peter-
xx. 1, 266 f., 361; 5 ff., 352. i. 2, 262.
xxi. 8, 303;15, 266 f.; 36-38, ii. 7, 254.
60 f. Apocalypse—
xxii. 9, 11-22, 70; 21, 74. 106.
xxiii. 1-8, 83-96. vi. 5 f., 240.
(415)
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