The history of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire: By Edward Gibbon, Esq; ... [pt.2]

CHAP. XV. The Progress of the Christian Religion, and the Sen|timents, Manners, Numbers, and Condition, of the primitive Christians.

A CANDID but rational inquiry into the pro|gress and establishment of Christianity, may be considered as a very essential part of the * 1.1 history of the Roman empire. While that great body was invaded by open violence, or under|mined by slow decay, a pure and humble religion gently insinuated itself into the minds of men, grew up in silence and obscurity, derived new vigour from opposition, and finally erected the triumphant banner of the cross on the ruins of the Capitol. Nor was the influence of Christi|anity confined to the period or to the limits of the Roman empire. After a revolution of thir|teen or fourteen centuries, that religion is still professed by the nations of Europe, the most dis|tinguished portion of human kind in arts and learning as well as in arms. By the industry and zeal of the Europeans, it has been widely diffused to the most distant shores of Asia and Africa; and by the means of their colonies has been firmly established from Canada to Chili, in a world unknown to the ancients.

But this inquiry, however useful or entertain|ing, * 1.2 is attended with two peculiar difficulties. The scanty and suspicious materials of ecclesiasti|cal

history seldom enable us to dispel the dark cloud that hangs over the first age of the church. The great law of impartiality too often obliges us to reveal the imperfections of the uninspired teachers and believers of the gospel; and, to a careless observer, their faults may seem to cast a shade on the faith which they professed. But the scandal of the pious Christian, and the fallacious triumph of the Infidel, should cease as soon as they recollect not only by whom, but likewise to whom, the Divine Revelation was given. The theologian may indulge the pleasing task of de|scribing Religion as she descended from Heaven, arrayed in her native purity. A more melan|choly duty is imposed on the historian. He must discover the inevitable mixture of error and cor|ruption, which she contracted in a long resi|dence upon earth, among a weak and degenerate race of beings.

Our curiosity is naturally prompted to inquire * 1.3 by what means the Christian faith obtained so remarkable a victory over the established religions of the earth. To this inquiry, an obvious but satisfactory answer may be returned; that it was owing to the convincing evidence of the doctrine itself, and to the ruling providence of its great Author. But as truth and reason seldom find so favourable a reception in the world, and as the wisdom of Providence frequently condescends to use the passions of the human heart, and the general circumstances of mankind, as instruments to execute its purpose; we may still be permitted,

though with becoming submission, to ask, not indeed what were the first, but what were the se|condary causes of the rapid growth of the Christian church. It will, perhaps, appear, that it was most effectually favoured and assisted by the five following causes: I. The inflexible, and, if we may use the expression, the intolerant zeal of the Christians, derived, it is true, from the Jewish religion, but purified from the narrow and un|social spirit, which, instead of inviting, had de|terred the Gentiles from embracing the law of Moses. II. The doctrine of a future life, im|proved by every additional circumstance which could give weight and efficacy to that important truth. III. The miraculous powers ascribed to the primitive church. IV. The pure and austere morals of the Christians. V. The union and discipline of the Christian republic, which gra|dually formed an independent and increasing state in the heart of the Roman empire.

I. We have already described the religious * 1.4 harmony of the ancient world, and the facility with which the most different and even hostile nations embraced, or at least respected, each other's superstitions. A single people refused to join in the common intercourse of mankind. The Jews, who under the Assyrian and Persian monarchies, had languished for many ages the most despised portion of their slaves 1 1.5, emerged

from obscurity under the successors of Alexander; and as they multiplied to a surprising degree in the East, and afterwards in the West, they soon excited the curiosity and wonder of other nations 2 1.6. The sullen obstinacy with which they maintained their peculiar rites and unsocial manners, seemed to mark them out a distinct species of men, who boldly professed, or who faintly disguised, their implacable hatred to the rest of human-kind 3 1.7. Neither the violence of Antiochus, nor the arts of Herod, nor the example of the circumjacent nations, could ever persuade the Jews to associate with the institutions of Moses the elegant mytho|logy of the Greeks 4 1.8. According to the maxims of universal toleration, the Romans protected a superstition which they despised 5 1.9. The polite Augustus condescended to give orders, that sacri|fices should be offered for his prosperity in the

temple of Jerusalem 6 1.10; while the meanest of the posterity of Abraham, who should have paid the same homage to the Jupiter of the Capitol, would have been an object of abhorrence to him|self and to his brethren. But the moderation of the conquerors was insufficient to appease the jealous prejudices of their subjects, who were alarmed and scandalized at the ensigns of pagan|ism, which necessarily introduced themselves into a Roman province 7 1.11. The mad attempt of Ca|ligula to place his own statue in the temple of Jerusalem, was defeated by the unanimous reso|lution of a people who dreaded death much less than such an idolatrous profanation 8 1.12. Their attachment to the law of Moses was equal to their detestation of foreign religions. The cur|rent of zeal and devotion, as it was contracted into a narrow channel, ran with the strength, and sometimes with the fury, of a torrent.

This inflexible perseverance, which appeared * 1.13 so odious or so ridiculous to the ancient world, assumes a more awful character, since Providence has deigned to reveal to us the mysterious history

of the chosen people. But the devout and even scrupulous attachment to the Mosaic religion, so conspicuous among the Jews who lived under the second temple, becomes still more surprising, if it is compared with the stubborn incredulity of their forefathers. When the law was given in thunder from Mount Sinai; when the tides of the ocean, and the course of the planets were suspended for the convenience of the Israelites; and when temporal rewards and punishments were the immediate consequences of their piety or disobedience, they perpetually relapsed into rebellion against the visible majesty of their Di|vine King, placed the idols of the nations in the sanctuary of Jehovah, and imitated every fan|tastic ceremony that was practised in the tents of the Arabs, or in the cities of Phoenicia 9 1.14. As the protection of Heaven was deservedly with|drawn from the ungrateful race, their faith ac|quired a proportionable degree of vigour and purity. The contemporaries of Moses and Joshua had beheld with careless indifference the most amazing miracles. Under the pressure of every calamity, the belief of those miracles has pre|served the Jews of a later period from the uni|versal contagion of idolatry; and in contradiction to every known principle of the human mind, that singular people seems to have yielded a stronger and more ready assent to the traditions

of their remote ancestors, than to the evidence of their own senses 10 1.15.

The Jewish religion was admirably fitted for * 1.16 defence, but it was never designed for conquest; and it seems probable that the number of pro|selytes was never much superior to that of apos|tates. The divine promises were originally made, and the distinguishing rite of circumcision was enjoined to a single family. When the posterity of Abraham had multiplied like the sands of the sea, the Deity, from whose mouth they received a system of laws and ceremonies, declared him|self the proper and as it were the national God of Israel; and with the most jealous care sepa|rated his favourite people from the rest of man|kind. The conquest of the land of Canaan was accompanied with so many wonderful and with so many bloody circumstances, that the victo|rious Jews were left in a state of irreconcilable hostility with all their neighbours. They had been commanded to extirpate some of the most idolatrous tribes, and the execution of the Di|vine will had seldom been retarded by the weak|ness of humanity. With the other nations they were forbidden to contract any marriages or al|liances, and the prohibition of receiving them into the congregation, which in some cases was perpetual, almost always extended to the third,

to the seventh, or even to the tenth generation. The obligation of preaching to the Gentiles the faith of Moses, had never been inculcated as a precept of the law, nor were the Jews inclined to impose it on themselves as a voluntary duty. In the admission of new citizens, that unsocial people was actuated by the selfish vanity of the Greeks, rather than by the generous policy of Rome. The descendants of Abraham were flat|tered by the opinion, that they alone were the heirs of the covenant, and they were apprehen|sive of diminishing the value of their inherit|ance, by sharing it too easily with the strangers of the earth. A larger acquaintance with man|kind, extended their knowledge without correct|ing their prejudices; and whenever the God of Israel acquired any new votaries, he was much more indebted to the inconstant humour of po|lytheism than to the active zeal of his own mis|sionaries 11 1.17. The religion of Moses seems to be instituted for a particular country as well as for a single nation; and if a strict obedience had been paid to the order, that every male, three times in the year, should present himself before the Lord Jehovah, it would have been impossible that the Jews could ever have spread themselves beyond the narrow limits of the promised land 12 1.18. That obstacle was indeed removed by the destruction of the temple of Jerusalem; but the most con|siderable

part of the Jewish religion was involved in its destruction; and the pagans, who had long wondered at the strange report of an empty sanctuary 13 1.19, were at a loss to discover what could be the object, or what could be the instruments, of a worship which was destitute of temples and of altars, of priests and of sacrifices. Yet even in their fallen state, the Jews, still asserting their lofty and exclusive privileges, shunned, instead of courting, the society of strangers. They still insisted with inflexible rigour on those parts of the law which it was in their power to practise. Their peculiar distinctions of days, of meats, and a variety of trivial though burdensome observ|ances, were so many objects of disgust and aver|sion for the other nations, to whose habits and prejudices they were diametrically opposite. The painful and even dangerous rite of circumcision was alone capable of repelling a willing proselyte from the door of the synagogue 14 1.20.

Under these circumstances, Christianity offered * 1.21 itself to the world, armed with the strength of the Mosaic law, and delivered from the weight of its fetters. An exclusive zeal for the truth of religion, and the unity of God, was as carefully

inculcated in the new as in the ancient system: and whatever was now revealed to mankind con|cerning the nature and designs of the Supreme Being, was fitted to increase their reverence for that mysterious doctrine. The divine authority of Moses and the prophets was admitted, and even established, as the firmest basis of Christi|anity. From the beginning of the world, an uninterrupted series of predictions had announced and prepared the long expected coming of the Messiah, who, in compliance with the gross apprehensions of the Jews, had been more fre|quently represented under the character of a King and Conqueror, than under that of a Prophet, a Martyr, and the Son of God. By his expia|tory sacrifice, the imperfect sacrifices of the tem|ple were at once consummated and abolished. The ceremonial law, which consisted only of types and figures, was succeeded by a pure and spiritual worship, equally adapted to all climates, as well as to every condition of mankind; and to the initiation of blood, was substituted a more harmless initiation of water. The promise of divine favour, instead of being partially confined to the posterity of Abraham, was universally pro|posed to the freeman and the slave, to the Greek and to the barbarian, to the Jew and to the Gen|tile. Every privilege that could raise the pro|selyte from earth to Heaven, that could exalt his devotion, secure his happiness, or even gratify that secret pride, which, under the semblance of devotion, insinuates itself into the human heart,

was still reserved for the members of the Christian church; but at the same time all mankind was permitted, and even solicited, to accept the glo|rious distinction, which was not only proffered as a favour, but imposed as an obligation. It be|came the most sacred duty of a new convert to diffuse among his friends and relations the inesti|mable blessing which he had received, and to warn them against a refusal that would be se|verely punished as a criminal disobedience to the will of a benevolent but all-powerful deity.

The enfranchisement of the church from the * 1.22 bonds of the synagogue, was a work however of some time and of some difficulty. The Jewish converts, who acknowledged Jesus in the cha|racter of the Messiah foretold by their ancient oracles, respected him as a prophetic teacher of virtue and religion; but they obstinately adhered to the ceremonies of their ancestors, and were desirous of imposing them on the Gentiles, who continually augmented the number of believers. These Judaising Christians seem to have argued with some degree of plausibility from the divine origin of the Mosaic law, and from the immu|table perfections of its great Author. They af|firmed, that if the Being, who is the same through all eternity, had designed to abolish those sacred rites which had served to distinguish his chosen people, the repeal of them would have been no less clear and solemn than their first promulga|tion: that, instead of those frequent declarations, which either suppose or assert the perpetuity of

the Mosaic religion, it would have been repre|sented as a provisionary scheme intended to last only till the coming of the Messiah, who should instruct mankind in a more perfect mode of faith and of worship 15 1.23: that the Messiah himself, and his disciples who conversed with him on earth, instead of authorizing by their example the most minute observances of the Mosaic law 16 1.24, would have published to the world the abolition of those useless and obsolete ceremonies, without suffering Christianity to remain during so many years obscurely confounded among the sects of the Jewish church. Arguments like these ap|pear to have been used in the defence of the ex|piring cause of the Mosaic law; but the industry of our learned divines has abundantly explained the ambiguous language of the Old Testament, and the ambiguous conduct of the apostolic teachers. It was proper gradually to unfold the system of the Gospel, and to pronounce, with the utmost caution and tenderness, a sentence of condemnation so repugnant to the inclination and prejudices of the believing Jews.

The history of the church of Jerusalem affords a lively proof of the necessity of those precau|tions, and of the deep impression which the Jew|ish * 1.25 religion had made on the minds of its sec|taries. The first fifteen bishops of Jerusalem were all circumcised Jews; and the congregation over which they presided, united the law of Moses with the doctrine of Christ 17 1.26. It was natural that the primitive tradition of a church which was founded only forty days after the death of Christ, and was governed almost as many years under the immediate inspection of his apostle, should be received as the standard of orthodoxy 18 1.27. The distant churches very frequently appealed to the authority of their venerable Parent, and relieved her distresses by a liberal contribution of alms. But when numerous and opulent societies were established in the great cities of the empire, in Antioch, Alexandria, Ephesus, Corinth, and Rome, the reverence which Jerusalem had in|spired to all the Christian colonies insensibly di|minished. The Jewish converts, or, as they were afterwards called, the Nazarenes, who had laid the foundations of the church, soon found themselves overwhelmed by the increasing mul|titudes, that from all the various religions of polytheism inlisted under the banner of Christ:

and the Gentiles, who, with the approbation of their peculiar apostle, had rejected the intolerable weight of Mosaic ceremonies, at length refused to their more scrupulous brethren the same tole|ration which at first they had humbly solicited for their own practice. The ruin of the temple, of the city, and of the public religion of the Jews, was severely felt by the Nazarenes; as in their manners, though not in their faith, they main|tained so intimate a connexion with their impious countrymen, whose misfortunes were attributed by the Pagans to the contempt, and more justly ascribed by the Christians to the wrath, of the Supreme Deity. The Nazarenes retired from the ruins of Jerusalem to the little town of Pella beyond the Jordan, where that ancient church languished above sixty years in solitude and ob|scurity 19 1.28. They still enjoyed the comfort of making frequent and devout visits to the Holy City, and the hope of being one day restored to those seats which both nature and religion taught them to love as well as to revere. But at length, under the reign of Hadrian, the desperate fana|ticism of the Jews filled up the measure of their calamities; and the Romans, exasperated by their repeated rebellions, exercised the rights of vic|tory with unusual rigour. The emperor found|ed,

under the name of Aelia Capitolina, a new city on Mount Sion 20 1.29, to which he gave the privileges of a colony; and denouncing the sever|est penalties against any of the Jewish people who should dare to approach its precincts, he fixed a vigilant garrison of a Roman cohort to enforce the execution of his orders. The Nazarenes had only one way left to escape the common pro|scription, and the force of truth was on this occasion assisted by the influence of temporal advantages. They elected Marcus for their bishop, a prelate of the race of the Gentiles, and most probably a native either of Italy or of some of the Latin provinces. At his persuasion, the most considerable part of the congregation renounced the Mosaic law, in the practice of which they had persevered above a century. By this sacrifice of their habits and prejudices, they purchased a free admission into the colony of Hadrian, and more firmly cemented their union with the Catholic church 21 1.30.

When the name and honours of the church of * 1.31 Jerusalem had been restored to Mount Sion, the crimes of heresy and schism were imputed to the obscure remnant of the Nazarenes, which refused

to accompany their Latin bishop. They still preserved their former habitation of Pella, spread themselves into the villages adjacent to Damas|cus, and formed an inconsiderable church in the city of Boerea, or, as it is now called, of Alep|po, in Syria 22 1.32. The name of Nazarenes was deemed too honourable for those Christian Jews, and they soon received from the supposed poverty of their understanding, as well as of their condition, the contemptuous epithet of Ebio|nites 23 1.33. In a few years after the return of the church of Jerusalem, it became a matter of doubt and controversy, whether a man who sin|cerely acknowledged Jesus as the Messiah, but who still continued to observe the law of Moses, could possibly hope for salvation. The humane temper of Justin Martyr inclined him to answer this question in the affirmative; and though he expressed himself with the most guarded diffi|dence, he ventured to determine in favour of such an imperfect Christian, if he were content to practise the Mosaic ceremonies, without pre|tending

to assert their general use or necessity. But when Justin was pressed to declare the sen|timent of the church, he confessed that there were very many among the orthodox Christians, who not only excluded their Judaising brethren from the hope of salvation, but who declined any intercourse with them in the common offices of friendship, hospitality, and social life 24 1.34. The more rigorous opinion prevailed, as it was na|tural to expect, over the milder; and an eternal bar of separation was fixed between the disciples of Moses and those of Christ. The unfortunate Ebionites, rejected from one religion as apostates, and from the other as heretics, found themselves compelled to assume a more decided character; and although some traces of that obsolete sect may be discovered as late as the fourth century, they insensibly melted away either into the church or the synagogue 25 1.35.

While the orthodox church preserved a just medium between excessive veneration and im|proper contempt for the law of Moses, the vari|ous * 1.36 heretics deviated into equal but opposite extremes of error and extravagance. From the acknowledged truth of the Jewish religion, the Ebionites had concluded that it could never be abolished. From its supposed imperfections the Gnostics as hastily inferred that it never was in|stituted by the wisdom of the Deity. There are some objections against the authority of Moses and the prophets, which too readily present them|selves to the sceptical mind; though they can only be derived from our ignorance of remote antiquity, and from our incapacity to form an adequate judgment of the divine oeconomy. These objections were eagerly embraced and as petulantly urged by the vain science of the Gno|stics 26 1.37. As those heretics were, for the most part, averse to the pleasures of sense, they mo|rosely arraigned the polygamy of the patriarchs, the gallantries of David, and the seraglio of So|lomon. The conquest of the land of Canaan, and the extirpation of the unsuspecting natives, they were at a loss how to reconcile with the common notions of humanity and justice. But when they recollected the sanguinary list of mur|ders, of executions, and of massacres, which stain almost every page of the Jewish annals, they

acknowledged that the barbarians of Palestine had exercised as much compassion towards their idolatrous enemies, as they had ever shewn to their friends or countrymen 27 1.38. Passing from the sectaries of the law to the law itself, they asserted that it was impossible that a religion which con|sisted only of bloody sacrifices and trifling cere|monies, and whose rewards as well as punish|ments were all of a carnal and temporal nature, could inspire the love of virtue, or restrain the impetuosity of passion. The Mosaic account of the creation and fall of man was treated with profane derision by the Gnostics, who would not listen with patience to the repose of the Deity after six days labour, to the rib of Adam, the garden of Eden, the trees of life and of knowledge, the speaking serpent, the forbidden fruit, and the condemnation pronounced against human kind for the venal offence of their first progenitors 28 1.39. The God of Israel was impiously represented by the Gnostics, as a being liable to passion and to error, capricious in his favour, implacable in his resentment, meanly jealous of his superstitious worship, and confining his partial providence to a single people, and to this transitory life. In such a character they could discover none of the features of the wise and omnipotent father of the

universe 29 1.40. They allowed that the religion of the Jews was somewhat less criminal than the idolatry of the Gentiles; but it was their fun|damental doctrine, that the Christ whom they adored as the first and brightest emanation of the Deity, appeared upon earth to rescue mankind from their various errors, and to reveal a new system of truth and perfection. The most learn|ed of the fathers, by a very singular condescen|sion, have imprudently admitted the sophistry of the Gnostics. Acknowledging that the literal sense is repugnant to every principle of faith as well as reason, they deem themselves secure and invulnerable behind the ample veil of allegory, which they carefully spread over every tender part of the Mosaic dispensation 30 1.41.

It has been remarked with more ingenuity * 1.42 than truth, that the virgin purity of the church was never violated by schism or heresy before the reign of Trajan or Hadrian, about one hun|dred years after the death of Christ 31 1.43. We may observe with much more propriety, that, during that period, the disciples of the Messiah were indulged in a freer latitude both of faith and practice, than has ever been allowed in succeed|ing

ages. As the terms of communion were insensibly narrowed, and the spiritual authority of the prevailing party was exercised with in|creasing severity, many of its most respectable adherents, who were called upon to renounce, were provoked to assert their private opinions, to pursue the consequences of their mistaken principles, and openly to erect the standard of rebellion against the unity of the church. The Gnostics were distinguished as the most polite, the most learned, and the most wealthy of the Christian name, and that general appellation which expressed a superiority of knowledge, was either assumed by their own pride, or ironically bestowed by the envy of their adversaries. They were almost without exception of the race of the Gentiles, and their principal founders seem to have been natives of Syria or Egypt, where the warmth of the climate disposes both the mind and the body to indolent and contemplative de|votion. The Gnostics blended with the faith of Christ many sublime but obscure tenets, which they derived from oriental philosophy, and even from the religion of Zoroaster, concerning the eternity of matter, the existence of two prin|ciples, and the mysterious hierarchy of the in|visible world 32 1.44. As soon as they launched out into that vast abyss, they delivered themselves to the guidance of a disordered imagination; and

as the paths of error are various and infinite, the Gnostics were imperceptibly divided into more than fifty particular sects 33 1.45, of whom the most celebrated appear to have been the Basilidians, the Valentinians, the Marcionites, and, in a still later period, the Manichaeans. Each of these sects could boast of its bishops and congrega|tions, of its doctors and martyrs 34 1.46, and, instead of the four gospels adopted by the church, the heretics produced a multitude of histories, in which the actions and discourses of Christ and of his apostles were adapted to their respective te|nets 35 1.47. The success of the Gnostics was rapid and extensive 36 1.48. They covered Asia and Egypt, established themselves in Rome, and sometimes

penetrated into the provinces of the West. For the most part they arose in the second century, flourished during the third, and were suppressed in the fourth or fifth, by the prevalence of more fashionable controversies, and by the superior ascendant of the reigning power. Though they constantly disturbed the peace, and frequently disgraced the name, of religion, they contributed to assist rather than to retard the progress of Christianity. The Gentile converts, whose strong|est objections and prejudices were directed against the law of Moses, could find admission into many Christian societies, which required not from their untutored mind any belief of an antecedent revelation. Their faith was insensibly fortified and enlarged, and the church was ultimately be|nefited by the conquests of its most inveterate enemies 37 1.49.

But whatever difference of opinion might sub|sist * 1.50 between the Orthodox, the Ebionites, and the Gnostics, concerning the divinity or the obli|gation of the Mosaic law, they were all equally animated by the same exclusive zeal, and by the same abhorrence for idolatry which had distin|guished the Jews from the other nations of the ancient world. The philosopher, who considered the system of polytheism as a composition of human fraud and error, could disguise a smile of contempt under the mask of devotion, without

apprehending that either the mockery, or the compliance, would expose him to the resentment of any invisible, or, as he conceived them, ima|ginary powers. But the established religions of Paganism were seen by the primitive Christians in a much more odious and formidable light. It was the universal sentiment both of the church and of heretics, that the daemons were the au|thors, the patrons, and the objects of idolatry 38 1.51. Those rebellious spirits who had been degraded from the rank of angels, and cast down into the infernal pit, were still permitted to roam upon earth, to torment the bodies, and to seduce the minds, of sinful men. The daemons soon dis|covered and abused the natural propensity of the human heart towards devotion, and, artfully withdrawing the adoration of mankind from their Creator, they usurped the place and honours of the Supreme Deity. By the success of their malicious contrivances, they at once gratified their own vanity and revenge, and obtained the only comfort of which they were yet susceptible, the hope of involving the human species in the par|ticipation of their guilt and misery. It was con|fessed, or at least it was imagined, that they had distributed among themselves the most import|ant characters of polytheism, one daemon assum|ing the name and attributes of Jupiter, an|other of Aesculapius, a third of Venus, and a fourth perhaps of Apollo 39 1.52; and that, by the

advantage of their long experience and aërial nature, they were enabled to execute, with suf|ficient skill and dignity, the parts which they had undertaken. They lurked in the temples, instituted festivals and sacrifices, invented fables, pronounced oracles, and were frequently allowed to perform miracles. The Christians, who, by the interposition of evil spirits, could so readily explain every praeternatural appearance, were disposed and even desirous to admit the most ex|travagant fictions of the Pagan mythology. But the belief of the Christian was accompanied with horror. The most trifling mark of respect to the national worship he considered as a direct homage yielded to the daemon, and as an act of rebellion against the majesty of God.

In consequence of this opinion, it was the first * 1.53 but arduous duty of a Christian to preserve him|self pure and undefiled by the practice of ido|latry. The religion of the nations was not merely a speculative doctrine professed in the schools or preached in the temples. The innumerable deities and rites of polytheism were closely inter|woven with every circumstance of business or pleasure, of public or of private life; and it seemed impossible to escape the observance of them, without, at the same time, renouncing the commerce of mankind, and all the offices and amusements of society 40 1.54. The important * 1.55

transactions of peace and war were prepared or concluded by solemn sacrifices, in which the magistrate, the senator, and the soldier, were obliged to preside or to participate 41 1.56. The public spectacles were an essential part of the cheerful devotion of the Pagans, and the gods were supposed to accept, as the most grateful offering, the games that the prince and people celebrated in honour of their peculiar festivals 42 1.57. The Christian, who with pious horror avoided the abomination of the circus or the theatre, sound himself encompassed with infernal snares in every convivial entertainment, as often as his friends, invoking the hospitable deities, poured out libations to each other's happiness 43 1.58. When the bride, struggling with well-affected reluc|tance, was forced in hymenaeal pomp over the threshold of her new habitation 44 1.59, or when the

sad procession of the dead slowly moved towards the funeral pile 45 1.60; the Christian, on these inte|resting occasions, was compelled to desert the persons who were the dearest to him, rather than contract the guilt inherent to those impious ce|remonies. Every art and every trade that was * 1.61 in the least concerned in the framing or adorning of idols was polluted by the stain of idolatry 46 1.62; a severe sentence, since it devoted to eternal mi|sery the far greater part of the community, which is employed in the exercise of liberal or mechanic professions. If we cast our eyes over the numerous remains of antiquity, we shall per|ceive, that besides the immediate representations of the Gods, and the holy instruments of their worship, the elegant forms and agreeable fictions consecrated by the imagination of the Greeks, were introduced as the richest ornaments of the houses, the dress, and the furniture, of the Pa|gans 47 1.63. Even the arts of music and painting, of eloquence and poetry, flowed from the same impure origin. In the style of the fathers, Apollo and the Muses were the organs of the infernal spirit, Homer and Virgil were the most

eminent of his servants, and the beautiful my|thology which pervades and animates the com|positions of their genius, is destined to celebrate the glory of the daemons. Even the common language of Greece and Rome abounded with familiar but impious expressions, which the im|prudent Christian might too carelessly utter, or too patiently hear 48 1.64.

The dangerous temptations which on every * 1.65 side lurked in ambush to surprise the unguarded believer, assailed him with redoubled violence on the days of solemn festivals. So artfully were they framed and disposed throughout the year, that superstition always wore the appearance of pleasure, and often of virtue 49 1.66. Some of the most sacred festivals in the Roman ritual were destined to salute the new calends of January with vows of public and private felicity, to in|dulge the pious remembrance of the dead and living, to ascertain the inviolable bounds of pro|perty, to hail, on the return of spring, the ge|nial powers of fecundity, to perpetuate the two memorable aeras of Rome, the foundation of the city, and that of the republic, and to restore, during the humane license of the Saturnalia, the primitive equality of mankind. Some idea may

be conceived of the abhorrence of the Christians for such impious ceremonies, by the scrupulous delicacy which they displayed on a much less alarming occasion. On days of general festivity, it was the custom of the ancients to adorn their doors with lamps and with branches of laurel, and to crown their heads with a garland of flowers. This innocent and elegant practice might perhaps have been tolerated as a mere civil institution. But it most unluckily happened that the doors were under the protection of the house|hold gods, that the laurel was sacred to the lover of Daphne, and that garlands of flowers, though frequently worn as a symbol either of joy or mourning, had been dedicated in their first origin to the service of superstition. The trembling Christians, who were persuaded in this instance to comply with the fashion of their country, and the commands of the magistrate, laboured under the most gloomy apprehensions, from the re|proaches of their own conscience, the censures of the church, and the denunciations of divine vengeance 50 1.67.

Such was the anxious diligence which was re|quired * 1.68 to guard the chastity of the gospel from the infectious breath of idolatry. The supersti|tious

observances of public or private rites were carelessly practised, from education and habit, by the followers of the established religion. But as often as they occurred, they afforded the Christians an opportunity of declaring and con|firming their zealous opposition. By these fre|quent protestations their attachment to the faith was continually fortified, and in proportion to the increase of zeal, they combated with the more ardour and success in the holy war, which they had undertaken against the empire of the daemons.

II. The writings of Cicero 51 1.69 represent in the * 1.70 most lively colours the ignorance, the errors, and the uncertainty of the ancient philosophers with regard to the immortality of the soul. When they are desirous of arming their disciples against the fear of death, they inculcate, as an obvious, though melancholy position, that the fatal stroke of our dissolution releases us from the calamities of life; and that those can no longer suffer who no longer exist. Yet there were a few sages of Greece and Rome who had conceived a more exalted, and, in some respects, a juster idea of human nature; though it must be con|fessed, that, in the sublime inquiry, their reason had been often guided by their imagination, and that their imagination had been prompted by

their vanity. When they viewed with compla|cency the extent of their own mental powers, when they exercised the various faculties of me|mory, of fancy, and of judgment, in the most profound speculations, or the most important la|bours, and when they reflected on the desire of same, which transported them into future ages, far beyond the bounds of death and of the grave; they were unwilling to confound themselves with the beasts of the field, or to suppose, that a be|ing, for whose dignity they entertained the most sincere admiration, could be limited to a spot of earth, and to a few years of duration. With this favourable prepossession they summoned to their aid the science, or rather the language, of Metaphysics. They soon discovered, that as none of the properties of matter will apply to the operations of the mind, the human soul must consequently be a substance distinct from the body, pure, simple, and spiritual, incapable of dissolution, and susceptible of a much higher de|gree of virtue and happiness after the release from its corporeal prison. From these specious and noble principles, the philosophers who trod in the footsteps of Plato, deduced a very unjus|tifiable conclusion, since they asserted, not only the future immortality, but the past eternity of the human soul, which they were too apt to con|sider as a portion of the infinite and self-existing spirit, which pervades and sustains the universe 52 1.71.

A doctrine thus removed beyond the senses and the experience of mankind, might serve to amuse the leisure of a philosophic mind; or, in the silence of solitude, it might sometimes impart a ray of comfort to desponding virtue; but the faint impression which had been received in the schools, was soon obliterated by the commerce and business of active life. We are sufficiently acquainted with the eminent persons who flou|rished in the age of Cicero, and of the first Cae|sars, with their actions, their characters, and their motives, to be assured that their conduct in this life was never regulated by any serious conviction of the rewards or punishments of a future state. At the bar and in the senate of Rome the ablest orators were not apprehensive of giving offence to their hearers, by exposing that doctrine as an idle and extravagant opinion, which was rejected with contempt by every man of a liberal education and understanding 53 1.72.

Since therefore the most sublime efforts of phi|losophy * 1.73 can extend no farther than feebly to point out the desire, the hope, or, at most, the probability, of a future state, there is nothing, except a divine revelation, that can ascertain the existence, and describe the condition of the invi|sible country which is destined to receive the souls of men after their separation from the body.

But we may perceive several defects inherent to the popular religions of Greece and Rome, which rendered them very unequal to so arduous a task. 1. The general system of their mythology was unsupported by any solid proofs; and the wisest among the Pagans had already disclaimed its usurped authority. 2. The description of the infernal regions had been abandoned to the fancy of painters and of poets, who peopled them with so many phantoms and monsters, who dispensed their rewards and punishments with so little equity, that a solemn truth, the most congenial to the human heart, was oppressed and disgraced by the absurd mixture of the wildest fictions 54 1.74. 3. The doctrine of a future state was scarcely considered among the devout polytheists of Greece and Rome as a fundamental article of faith. The providence of the gods, as it related to public communities rather than to private in|dividuals, was principally displayed on the visible theatre of the present world. The petitions which were offered on the altars of Jupiter or Apollo, expressed the anxiety of their worship|pers for temporal happiness, and their ignorance or indifference concerning a future life 55 1.75. The

important truth of the immortality of the soul was inculcated with more diligence as well as success in India, in Assyria, in Egypt, and in Gaul; and since we cannot attribute such a dif|ference * 1.76 to the superior knowledge of the barba|rians, we must ascribe it to the influence of an established priesthood, which employed the mo|tives of virtue as the instrument of ambition 56 1.77.

We might naturally expect, that a principle so * 1.78 essential to religion, would have been revealed in the clearest terms to the chosen people of Pa|lestine, and that it might safely have been in|trusted to the hereditary priesthood of Aaron. It is incumbent on us to adore the mysterious dispensations of Providence 57 1.79, when we discover, that the doctrine of the immortality of the soul is omitted in the law of Moses; it is darkly in|sinuated by the prophets, and during the long period which elapsed between the Egyptian and the Babylonian servitudes, the hopes as well as fears of the Jews appear to have been confined

within the narrow compass of the present life 58 1.80 After Cyrus had permitted the exiled nation to return into the promised land, and after Ezra had restored the ancient records of their religion, two celebrated sects, the Sadducees and the Pharisees, insensibly arose at Jerusalem 59 1.81 The former se|lected from the more opulent and distinguished ranks of society, were strictly attached to the literal sense of the Mosaic law, and they piously rejected the immortality of the soul, as an opi|nion that received no countenance from the di|vine book, which they revered as the only rule of their faith. To the authority of scripture the Pharisees added that of tradition, and they ac|cepted, under the name of traditions, several speculative tenets from the philosophy or religion of the eastern nations. The doctrines of fate or predestination, of angels and spirits, and of a future state of rewards and punishments, were in the number of these new articles of belief; and as the Pharisees, by the austerity of their manners, had drawn into their party the body of the Jewish people, the immortality of the soul became the prevailing sentiment of the syna|gogue,

under the reign of the Asmonaean princes and pontiffs. The temper of the Jews was in|capable of contenting itself with such a cold and languid assent as might satisfy the mind of a Polytheist; and as soon as they admitted the idea of a future state, they embraced it with the zeal which has always formed the characteristic of the nation. Their zeal, however, added no|thing to its evidence, or even probability: and it was still necessary, that the doctrine of life and immortality, which had been dictated by na|ture, approved by reason, and received by su|perstition, should obtain the sanction of divine truth from the authority and example of Christ.

When the promise of eternal happiness was * 1.82 proposed to mankind, on condition of adopting the faith, and of observing the precepts of the gospel, it is no wonder that so advantageous an offer should have been accepted by great num|bers of every religion, of every rank, and of every province in the Roman empire. The an|cient Christians were animated by a contempt for their present existence, and by a just confidence of immortality, of which the doubtful and im|perfect faith of modern ages cannot give us any adequate notion. In the primitive church, the influence of truth was very powerfully strength|ened * 1.83 by an opinion, which however it may de|serve respect for its usefulness and antiquity, has not been found agreeable to experience. It was universally believed, that the end of the world and the kingdom of Heaven, were at hand. The near approach of this wonderful event had been predicted by the apostles; the tradition of

it was preserved by their earliest disciples, and those who understood in their literal sense the discourses of Christ himself, were obliged to ex|pect the second and glorious coming of the Son of Man in the clouds, before that generation was totally extinguished, which had beheld his hum|ble condition upon earth, and which might still be witness of the calamities of the Jews under Vespasian or Hadrian. The revolution of seven|teen centuries has instructed us not to press too closely the mysterious language of prophecy and revelation; but as long as, for wise purposes, this error was permitted to subsist in the church, it was productive of the most salutary effects on the faith and practice of Christians, who lived in the awful expectation of that moment when the globe itself, and all the various race of man|kind, should tremble at the appearance of their divine judge 60 1.84.

The ancient and popular doctrine of the Mil|lennium * 1.85 was intimately connected with the se|cond coming of Christ. As the works of the creation had been finished in six days, their du|ration in their present state, according to a tra|dition which was attributed to the prophet Eli|jah, was fixed to six thousand years 61 1.86. By the

same analogy it was inferred, that this long pe|riod of labour and contention, which was now almost elapsed 62 1.87, would be succeeded by a joyful Sabbath of a thousand years; and that Christ, with the triumphant band of the saints and the elect who had escaped death, or who had been miraculously revived, would reign upon earth till the time appointed for the last and general resurrection. So pleasing was this hope to the mind of believers, that the New Jerusalem, the seat of this blissful kingdom, was quickly adorned with all the gayest colours of the imagination. A felicity consisting only of pure and spiritual pleasure, would have appeared too refined for its inhabitants, who were still supposed to possess their human nature and senses. A garden of Eden, with the amusements of the pastoral life, was no longer suited to the advanced state of society which prevailed under the Roman em|pire. A city was therefore erected of gold and precious stones, and a supernatural plenty of corn and wine was bestowed on the adjacent territory; in the free enjoyment of whose spon|taneous productions, the happy and benevolent

people was never to be restrained by any jealous laws of exclusive property 63 1.88. The assurance of such a Millennium, was carefully inculcated by a succession of fathers from Justin Martyr 64 1.89 and Irenaeus, who conversed with the immediate dis|ciples of the apostles, down to Lactantius, who was preceptor to the son of Constantine 65 1.90. Though it might not be universally received, it appears to have been the reigning sentiment of the orthodox believers; and it seems so well adapted to the desires and apprehensions of man|kind, that it must have contributed in a very considerable degree to the progress of the Chris|tian faith. But when the edifice of the church was almost completed, the temporary support was laid aside. The doctrine of Christ's reign upon earth, was at first treated as a profound allegory, was considered by degrees as a doubt|ful and useless opinion, and was at length reject|ed as the absurd invention of heresy and fana|ticism 66 1.91.

A mysterious prophecy, which still forms a part of the sacred canon, but which was thought to favour the exploded sentiment, has very narrowly escaped the proscription of the church 67 1.92.

Whilst the happiness and glory of a temporal reign were promised to the disciples of Christ, * 1.93 the most dreadful calamities were denounced against an unbelieving world. The edification of the new Jerusalem was to advance by equal steps with the destruction of the mystic Babylon; and as long as the emperors who reigned before Constantine persisted in the profession of idolatry, the epithet of Babylon was applied to the city and to the empire of Rome. A regular series

was prepared of all the moral and physical evils which can afflict a flourishing nation; intestine discord, and the invasion of the fiercest barbari|ans from the unknown regions of the North; pes|tilence and famine, comets and eclipses, earth|quakes and inundations 68 1.94. All these were only so many preparatory and alarming signs of the great catastrophe of Rome, when the country of the Scipios and Caesars should be consumed by a flame from Heaven, and the city of the seven hills, with her palaces, her temples, and her tri|umphal arches, should be buried in a vast lake of fire and brimstone. It might, however, afford some consolation to Roman vanity, that the pe|riod of their empire would be that of the world itself; which, as it had once perished by the element of water, was destined to experience a second and speedy destruction from the element of fire. In the opinion of a general conflagra|tion, the faith of the Christian very happily coin|cided with the tradition of the East, the philo|sophy of the Stoics, and the analogy of Nature; and even the country, which, from religious motives, had been chosen for the origin and principal scene of the conflagration, was the best adapted for that purpose by natural and physical causes; by its deep caverns, beds of sulphur, and numerous volcanoes, of which those of Aetna, of Vesuvius, and of Lipari, exhibit a very im|perfect representation. The calmest and most

intrepid sceptic could not refuse to acknowledge, that the destruction of the present system of the world by fire, was in itself extremely probable. The Christian, who founded his belief much less on the fallacious arguments of reason than on the authority of tradition and the interpretation of scripture, expected it with terror and con|fidence as a certain and approaching event; and as his mind was perpetually filled with the solemn idea, he considered every disaster that happened to the empire as an infallible symptom of an expiring world 69 1.95.

The condemnation of the wisest and most vir|tuous * 1.96 of the Pagans, on account of their igno|rance or disbelief of the divine truth, seems to offend the reason and the humanity of the pre|sent age 70 1.97. But the primitive church, whose faith was of a much firmer consistence, delivered over, without hesitation, to eternal torture, the far greater part of the human species. A cha|ritable

hope might perhaps be indulged in favour of Socrates, or some other sages of antiquity, who had consulted the light of reason before that of the gospel had arisen 71 1.98. But it was unani|mously affirmed, that those who, since the birth or the death of Christ, had obstinately persisted in the worship of the daemons, neither deserved nor could expect a pardon from the irritated justice of the Deity. These rigid sentiments, which had been unknown to the ancient world, appear to have infused a spirit of bitterness into a system of love and harmony. The ties of blood and friendship were frequently torn asunder by the difference of religious faith; and the Chris|tians, who, in this world, found themselves op|pressed by the power of the Pagans, were some|times seduced by resentment and spiritual pride to delight in the prospect of their future triumph.

You are fond of spectacles, exclaims the stern Tertullian, expect the greatest of all spec|tacles, the last and eternal judgment of the universe. How shall I admire, how laugh, how rejoice, how exult, when I behold so many proud monarchs, and fancied gods, groaning in the lowest abyss of darkness; so many magistrates who persecuted the name of the Lord, liquefying in fiercer fires than they ever kindled against the Christians; so many sage philosophers blushing in red hot flames

with their deluded scholars; so many cele|brated poets trembling before the tribunal, not of Minos, but of Christ; so many trage|dians, more tuneful in the expression of their own sufferings; so many dancers—.

But the humanity of the reader will permit me to draw a veil over the rest of this infernal descrip|tion, which the zealous African pursues in a long variety of affected and unfeeling witticisms 72 1.99.

Doubtless there were many among the primi|tive * 1.100 Christians of a temper more suitable to the meekness and charity of their profession. There were many who felt a sincere compassion for the danger of their friends and countrymen, and who exerted the most benevolent zeal to save them from the impending destruction. The careless Polytheist, assailed by new and unexpected ter|rors, against which neither his priests nor his philosophers could afford him any certain pro|tection, was very frequently terrified and sub|dued by the menace of eternal tortures. His fears might assist the progress of his faith and reason; and if he could once persuade himself to suspect that the Christian religion might possibly be true, it became an easy task to convince him

that it was the safest and most prudent party that he could possibly embrace.

III. The supernatural gifts, which even in this * 1.101 life were ascribed to the Christians above the rest of mankind, must have conduced to their own comfort, and very frequently to the con|viction of infidels. Besides the occasional pro|digies, which might sometimes be effected by the immediate interposition of the Deity when he suspended the laws of Nature for the service of religion, the Christian church, from the time of the apostles and their first disciples 73 1.102, has claim|ed an uninterrupted succession of miraculous powers, the gift of tongues, of vision and of prophecy, the power of expelling daemons, of healing the sick, and of raising the dead. The knowledge of foreign languages was frequently communicated to the contemporaries of Irenaeus, though Irenaeus himself was left to struggle with the difficulties of a barbarous dialect whilst he preached the gospel to the natives of Gaul 74 1.103. The divine inspiration, whether it was conveyed in the form of a waking or of a sleeping vision, is described as a favour very liberally bestowed on all ranks of the faithful, on women as on elders, on boys as well as upon bishops. When

their devout minds were sufficiently prepared by a course of prayer, of fasting, and of vigils, to receive the extraordinary impulse, they were transported out of their senses, and delivered in extasy what was inspired, being mere organs of the holy spirit, just as a pipe or flute is of him who blows into it 75 1.104. We may add, that the de|sign of these visions was, for the most part, either to disclose the future history, or to guide the present administration of the church. The ex|pulsion of the daemons from the bodies of those unhappy persons whom they had been permitted to torment, was considered as a signal though ordinary triumph of religion, and is repeatedly alleged by the ancient apologists, as the most convincing evidence of the truth of Christianity. The awful ceremony was usually performed in a public manner, and in the presence of a great number of spectators; the patient was relieved by the power or skill of the exorcist, and the van|quished daemon was heard to confess, that he was one of the fabled gods of antiquity, who had impiously usurped the adoration of mankind 76 1.105. But the miraculous cure of diseases of the most inveterate or even preternatural kind, can no longer occasion any surprise, when we recollect,

that in the days of Irenaeus, about the end of the second century, the resurrection of the dead was very far from being esteemed an uncommon event; that the miracle was frequently perform|ed on necessary occasions, by great fasting and the joint supplication of the church of the place, and that the persons thus restored to their pray|ers, had lived afterwards among them many years 77 1.106. At such a period, when faith could boast of so many wonderful victories over death, it seems difficult to account for the scepticism of those philosophers, who still rejected and derided the doctrine of the resurrection. A noble Gre|cian had rested on this important ground the whole controversy, and promised Theophilus, bishop of Antioch, that if he could be gratified with the sight of a single person who had been actually raised from the dead, he would imme|diately embrace the Christian religion. It is somewhat remarkable, that the prelate of the first eastern church, however anxious for the conver|sion of his friend, thought proper to decline this fair and reasonable challenge 78 1.107.

The miracles of the primitive church, after * 1.108 obtaining the sanction of ages, have been lately attacked in a very free and ingenious inquiry 79 1.109;

which, though it has met with the most favour|able reception from the Public, appears to have excited a general scandal among the divines of our own as well as of the other protestant churches of Europe 80 1.110. Our different sentiments on this subject will be much less influenced by any par|ticular arguments, than by our habits of study and reflection; and above all, by the degree of the evidence which we have accustomed ourselves to require for the proof of a miraculous event. The duty of an historian does not call upon him * 1.111 to interpose his private judgment in this nice and important controversy; but he ought not to dis|semble the difficulty of adopting such a theory as may reconcile the interest of religion with that of reason, of making a proper application of that theory, and of defining with precision the limits of that happy period exempt from error and from deceit, to which we might be disposed to extend the gift of supernatural powers. From the first of the fathers to the last of the popes, a succession of bishops, of saints, of martyrs, and of miracles, is continued without interruption, and the pro|gress of superstition was so gradual and almost imperceptible, that we know not in what par|ticular link we should break the chain of tradi|tion. Every age bears testimony to the wonder|ful events by which it was distinguished, and its testimony appears no less weighty and respectable

than that of the preceding generation, till we are insensibly led on to accuse our own inconsistency, if in the eighth or in the twelfth century we deny to the venerable Bede, or to the holy Ber|nard, the same degree of confidence which, in the second century, we had so liberally granted to Justin or to Irenaeus 81 1.112. If the truth of any of those miracles is appreciated by their apparent use and propriety, every age had unbelievers to convince, heretics to confute, and idolatrous nations to convert; and sufficient motives might always be produced to justify the interposition of Heaven. And yet since every friend to revela|tion is persuaded of the reality, and every reason|able man is convinced of the cessation, of mira|culous powers, it is evident that there must have been some period in which they were either sud|denly or gradually withdrawn from the Christian church. Whatever aera is chosen for that pur|pose, the death of the apostles, the conversion of the Roman empire, or the extinction of the Ari|an heresy 82 1.113, the insensibility of the Christians who lived at that time will equally afford a just matter of surprise. They still supported their pretensions after they had lost their power.

Credulity performed the office of faith; fana|ticism was permitted to assume the language of inspiration, and the effects of accident or con|trivance were ascribed to supernatural causes. The recent experience of genuine miracles should have instructed the Christian world in the ways of Providence, and habituated their eye (if we may use a very inadequate expression) to the style of the divine artist. Should the most skil|ful painter of modern Italy presume to decorate his feeble imitations with the name of Raphael or of Correggio, the insolent fraud would be soon discovered and indignantly rejected.

Whatever opinion may be entertained of the * 1.114 miracles of the primitive church since the time of the apostles, this unresisting softness of tem|per, so conspicuous among the believers of the second and third centuries, proved of some acci|dental benefit to the cause of truth and religion. In modern times, a latent and even involuntary scepticism adheres to the most pious dispositions. Their admission of supernatural truths is much less an active consent, than a cold and passive acquiescence. Accustomed long since to observe and to respect the invariable order of Nature, our reason, or at least our imagination, is not sufficiently prepared to sustain the visible action of the Deity. But, in the first ages of Christi|anity, the situation of mankind was extremely different. The most curious, or the most cre|dulous, among the Pagans, were often persuad|ed to enter into a society, which asserted an actual claim of miraculous powers. The primitive

Christians perpetually trod on mystic ground, and their minds were exercised by the habits of believing the most extraordinary events. They felt, or they fancied, that on every side they were incessantly assaulted by daemons, comforted by visions, instructed by prophecy, and surpri|singly delivered from danger, sickness, and from death itself, by the supplications of the church. The real or imaginary prodigies, of which they so frequently conceived themselves to be the ob|jects, the instruments, or the spectators, very happily disposed them to adopt with the same ease, but with far greater justice, the authentic wonders of the evangelic history; and thus mira|cles that exceeded not the measure of their own experience, inspired them with the most lively assurance of mysteries which were acknowledged to surpass the limits of their understanding. It is this deep impression of supernatural truths, which has been so much celebrated under the name of faith; a state of mind described as the surest pledge of the divine favour and of future felicity, and recommended as the first or per|haps the only merit of a Christian. According to the more rigid doctors, the moral virtues, which may be equally practised by infidels, are destitute of any value or efficacy in the work of our justification.

IV. But the primitive Christian demonstrated * 1.115 his faith by his virtues; and it was very justly supposed that the divine persuasion which en|lightened or subdued the understanding, must, at the same time, purify the heart and direct the

actions of the believer. The first apologists of Christianity who justify the innocence of their brethren, and the writers of a later period who celebrate the sanctity of their ancestors, display, in the most lively colours, the reformation of manners which was introduced into the world by the preaching of the gospel. As it is my intention to remark only such human causes as were permitted to second the influence of reve|lation, I shall slightly mention two motives which might naturally render the lives of the primitive Christians much purer and more austere than those of their Pagan contemporaries, or their degenerate successors; repentance for their past sins, and the laudable desire of supporting the reputation of the society in which they were engaged.

It is a very ancient reproach, suggested by the * 1.116 ignorance or the malice of infidelity, that the Christians allured into their party the most atro|cious criminals, who, as soon as they were touch|ed by a sense of remorse, were easily persuaded to wash away, in the water of baptism, the guilt of their past conduct, for which the temples of the gods refused to grant them any expiation. But this reproach, when it is cleared from mis|representation, contributes as much to the ho|nour as it did to the increase of the church 83 1.117. The friends of Christianity may acknowledge without a blush, that many of the most eminent

saints had been before their baptism the most abandoned sinners. Those persons, who in the world had followed, though in an imperfect man|ner, the dictates of benevolence and propriety, derived such a calm satisfaction from the opinion of their own rectitude, as rendered them much less susceptible of the sudden emotions of shame, of grief, and of terror, which have given birth to so many wonderful conversions. After the example of their Divine Master, the missionaries of the gospel disdained not the society of men, and especially of women, oppressed by the con|sciousness, and very often by the effects, of their vices. As they emerged from sin and supersti|tion to the glorious hope of immortality, they resolved to devote themselves to a life, not only of virtue, but of penitence. The desire of per|fection became the ruling passion of their soul; and it is well known, that while reason embraces a cold medicrity, our passions hurry us, with rapid violence, over the space which lies between the most opposite extremes.

When the new converts had been enrolled in * 1.118 the number of the faithful, and were admitted to the sacraments of the church, they found themselves restrained from relapsing into their past disorders by another consideration of a less spiritual, but of a very innocent and respectable nature. Any particular society that has departed from the great body of the nation, or the religion to which it belonged, immediately becomes the object of universal as well as invidious observa|tion.

In proportion to the smallness of its num|bers, the character of the society may be affect|ed by the virtue and vices of the persons who compose it; and every member is engaged to watch with the most vigilant attention over his own behaviour, and over that of his brethren, since, as he must expect to incur a part of the common disgrace, he may hope to enjoy a share of the common reputation. When the Christians of Bithynia were brought before the tribunal of the younger Pliny, they assured the proconsul, that, far from being engaged in any unlawful conspiracy, they were bound by a solemn obli|gation to abstain from the commission of those crimes which disturb the private or public peace of society, from theft, robbery, adultery, per|jury, and fraud 84 1.119. Near a century afterwards, Tertullian, with an honest pride, could boast, that very few Christians had suffered by the hand of the executioner, except on account of their religion 85 1.120. Their serious and sequestered life, averse to the gay luxury of the age, inured them to chastity, temperance, oeconomy, and all the sober and domestic virtues. As the greater num|ber were of some trade or profession, it was in|cumbent on them, by the strictest integrity and the fairest dealing, to remove the suspicions which the profane are too apt to conceive against the appearances of sanctity. The contempt of the world exercised them in the habits of humi|lity,

meekness, and patience. The more they were persecuted, the more closely they adhered to each other. Their mutual charity and unsus|pecting confidence has been remarked by infidels, and was too often abused by perfidious friends 86 1.121.

It is a very honourable circumstance for the * 1.122 morals of the primitive Christians, that even their faults, or rather errors, were derived from an excess of virtue. The bishops and doctors of the church, whose evidence attests, and whose authority might influence, the professions, the principles, and even the practice, of their con|temporaries, had studied the scriptures with less skill than devotion, and they often received, in the most literal sense, those rigid precepts of Christ and the apostles, to which the prudence of succeeding commentators has applied a looser and more figurative mode of interpretation. Ambitious to exalt the perfection of the gospel above the wisdom of philosophy, the zealous fa|thers have carried the duties of self-mortification, of purity, and of patience, to a height which it is scarcely possible to attain, and much less to preserve, in our present state of weakness and corruption. A doctrine so extraordinary and so sublime must inevitably command the veneration of the people; but it was ill calculated to ob|tain the suffrage of those worldly philosophers, who, in the conduct of this transitory life, con|sult

only the feelings of nature and the interest of society 87 1.123.

There are two very natural propensities which * 1.124 we may distinguish in the most virtuous and liberal dispositions, the love of pleasure and the love of action. If the former is refined by art and learning, improved by the charms of social intercourse, and corrected by a just regard to oeconomy, to health, and to reputation, it is productive of the greatest part of the happiness of private life. The love of action is a principle of a much stronger and more doubtful nature. It often leads to anger, to ambition, and to re|venge; but when it is guided by the sense of propriety and benevolence, it becomes the parent of every virtue; and if those virtues are accom|panied with equal abilities, a family, a state, or an empire, may be indebted for their safety and prosperity to the undaunted courage of a single man. To the love of pleasure we may therefore ascribe most of the agreeable, to the love of action we may attribute most of the useful and respectable, qualifications. The character in which both the one and the other should be united and harmonised, would seem to consti|tute the most perfect idea of human nature. The insensible and inactive disposition, which should be supposed alike destitute of both, would be rejected, by the common consent of mankind, as utterly incapable of procuring any happiness

to the individual, or any public benefit to the world. But it was not in this world that the primitive Christians were desirous of making themselves either agreeable or useful.

The acquisition of knowledge, the exercise of * 1.125 our reason or fancy, and the cheerful flow of unguarded conversation, may employ the lei|sure of a liberal mind. Such amusements, how|ever, were rejected with abhorrence, or admit|ted with the utmost caution, by the severity of the fathers, who despised all knowledge that was not useful to salvation, and who considered all levity of discourse as a criminal abuse of the gift of speech. In our present state of existence, the body is so inseparably connected with the soul, that it seems to be our interest to taste, with innocence and moderation, the enjoyments of which that faithful companion is susceptible. Very different was the reasoning of our devout predecessors; vainly aspiring to imitate the per|fection of angels, they disdained, or they affected to disdain, every earthly and corporeal delight 88 1.126. Some of our senses indeed are necessary for our preservation, others for our subsistence, and others again for our information, and thus far it was impossible to reject the use of them. The first sensation of pleasure was marked as the first moment of their abuse. The unfeeling candidate for Heaven was instructed, not only to resist the grosser allurements of the taste or smell, but even to shut his ears against the pro|fane

harmony of sounds, and to view with in|difference the most finished productions of human art. Gay apparel, magnificent houses, and ele|gant furniture, were supposed to unite the dou|ble guilt of pride and of sensuality: a simple and mortified appearance was more suitable to the Christian who was certain of his sins and doubt|ful of his salvation. In their censures of luxury, the fathers are extremely minute and circum|stantial 89 1.127; and among the various articles which excite their pious indignation, we may enume|rate false hair, garments of any colour except white, instruments of music, vases of gold or sil|ver, downy pillows (as Jacob reposed his head on a stone), white bread, foreign wines, public salutations, the use of warm baths, and the prac|tice of shaving the beard, which, according to the expression of Tertullian, is a lie against our own faces, and an impious attempt to improve the works of the Creator 90 1.128. When Christianity was introduced among the rich and the polite, the observation of these singular laws was left, as it would be at present, to the few who were am|bitious of superior sanctity. But it is always easy, as well as agreeable, for the inferior ranks of mankind to claim a merit from the contempt of that pomp and pleasure, which fortune has placed beyond their reach. The virtue of the

primitive Christians, like that of the first Ro|mans, was very frequently guarded by poverty and ignorance.

The chaste severity of the fathers, in whatever * 1.129 related to the commerce of the two sexes, flow|ed from the same principle; their abhorrence of every enjoyment, which might gratify the sen|sual, and degrade the spiritual, nature of man. It was their favourite opinion, that if Adam had preserved his obedience to the Creator, he would have lived for ever in a state of virgin purity, and that some harmless mode of vegetation might have peopled paradise with a race of innocent and immortal beings 91 1.130. The use of marriage was permitted only to his fallen posterity, as a necessary expedient to continue the human spe|cies, and as a restraint, however imperfect, on the natural licentiousness of desire. The hesita|tion of the orthodox casuists on this interesting subject, betrays the perplexity of men, unwilling to approve an institution, which they were com|pelled to tolerate 92 1.131. The enumeration of the very whimsical laws, which they most circum|stantially imposed on the marriage-bed, would force a smile from the young, and a blush from the fair. It was their unanimous sentiment, that a first marriage was adequate to all the purposes of nature and of society. The sensual connexion was refined into a resemblance of the mystic

union of Christ with his church, and was pro|nounced to be indissoluble either by divorce or by death. The practice of second nuptials was branded with the name of a legal adultery; and the persons who were guilty of so scandalous an offence against Christian purity, were soon ex|cluded from the honours, and even from the alms, of the church 93 1.132. Since desire was im|puted as a crime, and marriage was tolerated as a defect, it was consistent with the same prin|ciples to consider a state of celibacy as the near|est approach to the Divine perfection. It was with the utmost difficulty that ancient Rome could support the institution of six vestals 94 1.133; but the primitive church was filled with a great number of persons of either sex, who had de|voted themselves to the profession of perpetual chastity 95 1.134. A few of these, among whom we may reckon the learned Origen, judged it the most prudent to disarm the temper 96 1.135. Some

were insensible and some were invincible against the assaults of the flesh. Disdaining an ignomi|nious flight, the virgins of the warm climate of Africa encountered the enemy in the closest en|gagement; they permitted priests and deacons to share their bed, and gloried amidst the flames in their unsullied purity. But insulted Nature sometimes vindicated her rights, and this new species of martyrdom served only to introduce a new scandal into the church 97 1.136. Among the Christian ascetics, however (a name which they soon acquired from their painful exercise), many, as they were less presumptuous, were probably more successful. The loss of sensual pleasure was supplied and compensated by spiritual pride. Even the multitude of Pagans were inclined to estimate the merit of the sacrifice by its apparent difficulty; and it was in the praise of these chaste spouses of Christ that the fathers have poured forth the troubled stream of their eloquence 98 1.137. Such are the early traces of monastic principles and institutions, which, in a subsequent age, have counterbalanced all the temporal advantages of Christianity 99 1.138.

The Christians were not less averse to the bu|siness than to the pleasures of this world. The defence of our persons and property they knew * 1.139 not how to reconcile with the patient doctrine which enjoined an unlimited forgiveness of past injuries, and commanded them to invite the re|petition of fresh insults. Their simplicity was offended by the use of oaths, by the pomp of magistracy, and by the active contention of pub|lic life, nor could their humane ignorance be convinced, that it was lawful on any occasion to shed the blood of our fellow-creatures, either by the sword of justice, or by that of war; even though their criminal or hostile attempts should threaten the peace and safety of the whole com|munity 100 1.140. It was acknowledged, that, under a less perfect law, the powers of the Jewish con|stitution had been exercised, with the approba|tion of Heaven, by inspired prophets and by anointed kings. The Christians felt and con|fessed, that such institutions might be necessary for the present system of the world, and they cheerfully submitted to the authority of their Pagan governors. But while they inculcated the maxims of passive obedience, they refused to take any active part in the civil administration or the military defence of the empire. Some indul|gence might perhaps be allowed to those persons

who, before their conversion, were already en|gaged in such violent and sanguinary occupa|tions 101 1.141; but it was impossible that the Chris|tians, without renouncing a more sacred duty, could assume the character of soldiers, of magis|trates, or of princes 102 1.142. This indolent, or even criminal disregard to the public welfare, exposed them to the contempt and reproaches of the Pa|gans, who very frequently asked, what must be the fate of the empire, attacked on every side by the barbarians, if all mankind should adopt the pusillanimous sentiments of the new sect 103 1.143? To this insulting question the Christian apolo|gists returned obscure and ambiguous answers, as they were unwilling to reveal the secret cause of their security; the expectation that, before the conversion of mankind was accomplished, war, government, the Roman empire, and the world itself, would be no more. It may be ob|served, that, in this instance likewise, the situa|tion of the first Christians coincided very hap|pily with their religious scruples, and that their aversion to an active life contributed rather to excuse them from the service, than to exclude them from the honours, of the state and army.

V. But the human character, however it may be exalted or depressed by a temporary enthu|siasm, will return by degrees to its proper and * 1.144 natural level, and will resume those passions that seem the most adapted to its present condition. The primitive Christians were dead to the busi|ness and pleasures of the world; but their love of action, which could never be entirely extin|guished, soon revived, and found a new occu|pation in the government of the church. A separate society, which attacked the established religion of the empire, was obliged to adopt some form of internal policy, and to appoint a sufficient number of ministers, intrusted not only with the spiritual functions, but even with the temporal direction of the Christian common|wealth. The safety of that society, its honour, its aggrandisement, were productive, even in the most pious minds, of a spirit of patriotism, such as the first of the Romans had felt for the repub|lic, and sometimes, of a similar indifference, in the use of whatever means might probably con|duce to so desirable an end. The ambition of raising themselves or their friends to the honours and offices of the church, was disguised by the laudable intention of devoting to the public benefit, the power and consideration, which, for that purpose only, it became their duty to solicit. In the exercise of their functions, they were fre|quently called upon to detect the errors of heresy, or the arts of faction, to oppose the designs of perfidious brethren, to stigmatize their charac|ters

with deserved infamy, and to expel them from the bosom of a society, whose peace and happiness they had attempted to disturb. The ecclesiastical governors of the Christians were taught to unite the wisdom of the serpent with the innocence of the dove; but as the former was refined, so the latter was insensibly corrupt|ed, by the habits of government. In the church as well as in the world, the persons who were placed in any public station rendered themselves considerable by their eloquence and firmness, by their knowledge of mankind, and by their dex|terity in business; and while they concealed from others, and perhaps from themselves, the secret motives of their conduct, they too frequently relapsed into all the turbulent passions of active life, which were tinctured with an additional de|gree of bitterness and obstinacy from the infusion of spiritual zeal.

The government of the church has often been * 1.145 the subject as well as the prize of religious con|tention. The hostile disputants of Rome, of Paris, of Oxford, and of Geneva, have alike struggled to reduce the primitive and apostolic model 104 1.146, to the respective standards of their own policy. The few who have pursued this inquiry with more candour and impartiality, are of opi|nion 105 1.147,

that the apostles declined the office of legislation, and rather chose to endure some par|tial scandals and divisions, than to exclude the Christians of a future age from the liberty of varying their forms of ecclesiastical government according to the changes of times and circum|stances. The scheme of policy, which, under their approbation, was adopted for the use of the first century, may be discovered from the prac|tice of Jerusalem, of Ephesus, or of Corinth. The societies which were instituted in the cities of the Roman empire, were united only by the ties of faith and charity. Independence and equality formed the basis of their internal con|stitution. The want of discipline and human learning was supplied by the occasional assistance of the prophets 106 1.148, who were called to that func|tion without distinction of age, of sex, or of natural abilities, and who, as often as they felt the divine impulse, poured forth the effusions of the spirit in the assembly of the faithful. But these extraordinary gifts were frequently abused or misapplied by the prophetic teachers. They displayed them at an improper season, presump|tuously disturbed the service of the assembly, and by their pride or mistaken zeal they introduced, particularly into the apostolic church of Corinth, a long and melancholy train of disorders 107 1.149.

As the institution of prophets became useless, and even pernicious, their powers were with|drawn, and their office abolished. The public functions of religion were solely intrusted to the established ministers of the church, the bishops and the presbyters; two appellations which, in their first origin, appear to have distinguished the same office and the same order of persons. The name of Presbyter was expressive of their age, or rather of their gravity and wisdom. The title of Bishop denoted their inspection over the faith and manners of the Christians who were committed to their pastoral care. In proportion to the respective numbers of the faithful, a larger or smaller number of these episcopal presbyters guided each infant congregation with equal au|thority, and with united counsels 108 1.150.

But the most perfect equality of freedom re|quires * 1.151 the directing hand of a superior magistrate; and the order of public deliberations soon intro|duces the office of a president, invested at least with the authority of collecting the sentiments, and of executing the resolutions, of the assembly. A regard for the public tranquillity, which would so frequently have been interrupted by annual or by occasional elections, induced the primitive Christians to constitute an honourable and per|petual magistracy, and to choose one of the wisest and most holy among their presbyters to execute, during his life, the duties of their ecclesiastical governor. It was under these circumstances that

the lofty title of Bishop began to raise itself above the humble appellation of presbyter; and while the latter remained the most natural dis|tinction for the members of every Christian senate, the former was appropriated to the dig|nity of its new president 109 1.152. The advantages of this episcopal form of government, which appears to have been introduced before the end of the first century 110 1.153, were so obvious, and so impor|tant for the future greatness, as well as the pre|sent peace, of Christianity, that it was adopted without delay by all the societies which were already scattered over the empire, had acquired in a very early period the sanction of antiquity 111 1.154, and is still revered by the most powerful churches, both of the East and of the West, as a primitive and even as a divine establishment 112 1.155. It is needless to observe, that the pious and humble

presbyters, who were first dignified with the epis|copal title, could not possess, and would proba|bly have rejected, the power and pomp which now encircles the tiara of the Roman pontiff, or the mitre of a German prelate. But we may define, in a few words, the narrow limits of their original jurisdiction, which was chiefly of a spi|ritual, though in some instances of a temporal, nature 113 1.156. It consisted in the administration of the sacraments and discipline of the church, the superintendency of religious ceremonies, which imperceptibly increased in number and variety, the consecration of ecclesiastical ministers, to whom the bishop assigned their respective func|tions, the management of the public fund, and the determination of all such differences as the faithful were unwilling to expose before the tri|bunal of an idolatrous judge. These powers, during a short period, were exercised according to the advice of the presbyteral college, and with the consent and approbation of the assembly of Christians. The primitive bishops were con|sidered only as the first of their equals, and the honourable servants of a free people. Whenever the episcopal chair became vacant by death, a new president was chosen among the presbyters by the suffrage of the whole congregation, every

member of which supposed himself invested with a sacred and sacerdotal character 114 1.157.

Such was the mild and equal constitution by * 1.158 which the Christians were governed more than an hundred years after the death of the apostles. Every society formed within itself a separate and independent republic: and although the most distant of these little states maintained a mutual as well as friendly intercourse of letters and depu|tations, the Christian world was not yet connect|ed by any supreme authority or legislative assem|bly. As the numbers of the faithful were gra|dually multiplied, they discovered the advantages that might result from a closer union of their interest and designs. Towards the end of the second century, the churches of Greece and Asia adopted the useful institutions of provincial sy|nods, and they may justly be supposed to have borrowed the model of a representative council from the celebrated examples of their own coun|try, the Amphictyons, the Achaean league, or the assemblies of the Ionian cities. It was soon established as a custom and as a law, that the bishops of the independent churches should meet in the capital of the province at the stated periods of spring and autumn. Their deliberations were assisted by the advice of a few distinguished presbyters, and moderated by the presence of a

listening multitude 115 1.159. Their decrees, which were styled Canons, regulated every important controversy of faith and discipline; and it was natural to believe that a liberal effusion of the holy spirit would be poured on the united assem|bly of the delegates of the Christian people. The institution of synods was so well suited to private ambition and to public interest, that in the space of a few years it was received through|out the whole empire. A regular correspondence * 1.160 was established between the provincial councils, which mutually communicated and approved their respective proceedings; and the catholic church soon assumed the form, and acquired the strength, of a great soederative republic 116 1.161.

As the legislative authority of the particular * 1.162 churches was insensibly superseded by the use of councils, the bishops obtained by their alliance a much larger share of executive and arbitrary power; and as soon as they were connected by a sense of their common interest, they were ena|bled to attack, with united vigour, the original rights of their clergy and people. The prelates of the third century imperceptibly changed the language of exhortation into that of command, scattered the seeds of future usurpations, and

supplied, by scripture allegories and declamatory rhetoric, their deficiency of force and of reason. They exalted the unity and power of the church, as it was represented in the EPISCOPAL OFFICE, of which every bishop enjoyed an equal and un|divided portion 117 1.163. Princes and magistrates, it was often repeated, might boast an earthly claim to a transitory dominion: it was the episcopal authority alone which was derived from the deity, and extended itself over this and over another world. The bishops were the vicegerents of Christ, the successors of the apostles, and the mystic substitutes of the high priest of the Mo|saic law. Their exclusive privilege of confer|ring the sacerdotal character, invaded the freedom both of clerical and of popular elections; and if, in the administration of the church, they still consulted the judgment of the presbyters, or the inclination of the people, they most carefully in|culcated the merit of such a voluntary conde|scension. The bishops acknowledged the supreme authority which resided in the assembly of their brethren; but in the government of his peculiar diocese, each of them exacted from his flock the same implicit obedience as if that favourite me|taphor had been literally just, and as if the shep|herd had been of a more exalted nature than that of his sheep 118 1.164. This obedience, however,

was not imposed without some efforts on one side, and some resistance on the other. The de|mocratical part of the constitution was, in many places, very warmly supported by the zealous or interested opposition of the inferior clergy. But their patriotism received the ignominious epi|thets of faction and schism; and the episcopal cause was indebted for its rapid progress to the labours of many active prelates, who, like Cy|prian of Carthage, could reconcile the arts of the most ambitious statesman with the Christian virtues which seem adapted to the character of a saint and martyr 119 1.165.

The same causes which at first had destroyed * 1.166 the equality of the presbyters, introduced among the bishops a pre-eminence of rank, and from thence a superiority of jurisdiction. As often as in the spring and autumn they met in provincial synod, the difference of personal merit and re|putation was very sensibly felt among the mem|bers of the assembly, and the multitude was go|verned by the wisdom and eloquence of the few. But the order of public proceedings required a more regular and less invidious distinction; the office of perpetual presidents in the councils of each province, was conferred on the bishops of the principal city, and these aspiring prelates, who soon acquired the lofty titles of Metropo|litans

and Primates, secretly prepared themselves to usurp over their episcopal brethren the same authority which the bishops had so lately assumed above the college of presbyters 120 1.167. Nor was it long before an emulation of pre-eminence and power prevailed among the metropolitans them|selves, each of them affecting to display, in the most pompous terms, the temporal honours and advantages of the city over which he presided; the numbers and opulence of the Christians, who were subject to their pastoral care; the saints and martyrs who had arisen among them, and the purity with which they preserved the tradition of the faith, as it had been transmitted through a series of orthodox bishops from the apostle or the apostolic disciple, to whom the foundation of their church was ascribed 121 1.168. From every cause either of a civil or of an ecclesiastical nature, it was easy to foresee that Rome must enjoy the respect, and would soon claim the obedience, of the provinces. The society of the faithful * 1.169 bore a just proportion to the capital of the em|pire; and the Roman church was the greatest, the most numerous, and, in regard to the West, the most ancient of all the Christian establish|ments, many of which had received their reli|gion from the pious labours of her missionaries. Instead of one apostolic founder, the utmost boast

of Antioch, of Ephesus, or of Corinth, the banks of the Tyber were supposed to have been honoured with the preaching and martyrdom of the two most eminent among the apostles 122 1.170; and the bishops of Rome very prudently claimed the inheritance of whatsoever prerogatives were attributed either to the person or to the office of St. Peter 123 1.171. The bishops of Italy and of the provinces were disposed to allow them a primacy of order and association (such was their very accurate expression) in the Christian aristo|cracy 124 1.172. But the power of a monarch was re|jected with abhorrence, and the aspiring genius of Rome experienced from the nations of Asia and Africa, a more vigorous resistance to her spiritual, than she had formerly done to her tem|poral, dominion. The patriotic Cyprian, who ruled with the most absolute sway the church of Carthage and the provincial synods, opposed

with resolution and success the ambition of the Roman pontiff, artfully connected his own cause with that of the eastern bishops, and, like Han|nibal, sought out new allies in the heart of Asia 125 1.173. If this Punic war was carried on with|out any effusion of blood, it was owing much less to the moderation than to the weakness of the contending prelates. Invectives and excom|munications were their only weapons; and these, during the progress of the whole controversy, they hurled against each other with equal fury and devotion. The hard necessity of censuring either a pope, or a saint and martyr, distresses the modern catholics, whenever they are obliged to relate the particulars of a dispute, in which the champions of religion indulged such passions as seem much more adapted to the senate or to the camp 126 1.174.

The progress of the ecclesiastical authority * 1.175 gave birth to the memorable distinction of the laity and of the clergy, which had been unknown to the Greeks and Romans 127 1.176. The former of these appellations comprehended the body of the Christian people; the latter, according to the signification of the word, was appropriated to the chosen portion that had been set apart for

the service of religion; a celebrated order of men which has furnished the most important, though not always the most edifying, subjects for modern history. Their mutual hostilities sometimes disturbed the peace of the infant church, but their zeal and activity were united in the common cause, and the love of power, which (under the most artful disguises) could insinuate itself into the breasts of bishops and martyrs, animated them to increase the number of their subjects, and to enlarge the limits of the Christian empire. They were destitute of any temporal force, and they were for a long time discouraged and oppressed, rather than as|sisted, by the civil magistrate; but they had ac|quired, and they employed within their own society, the two most efficacious instruments of government, rewards and punishments; the for|mer derived from the pious liberality, the latter from the devout apprehensions, of the faithful.

1. The community of goods, which had so * 1.177 agreeably amused the imagination of Plato 128 1.178, and which subsisted in some degree among the austere sect of the Essenians 129 1.179, was adopted for a short time in the primitive church. The fer|vour of the first proselytes prompted them to sell those worldly possessions, which they de|spised,

to lay the price of them at the feet of the apostles, and to content themselves with re|ceiving an equal share out of the general distribu|tion 130 1.180. The progress of the Christian religion relaxed, and gradually abolished this generous institution, which, in hands less pure than those of the apostles, would too soon have been cor|rupted and abused by the returning selfishness of human nature; and the converts who embraced the new religion were permitted to retain the possession of their patrimony, to receive legacies and inheritances, and to increase their separate property by all the lawful means of trade and industry. Instead of an absolute sacrifice, a moderate proportion was accepted by the mi|nisters of the gospel; and in their weekly or monthly assemblies, every believer, according to the exigency of the occasion, and the measure of his wealth and piety, presented his voluntary offering for the use of the common fund 131 1.181. Nothing, however inconsiderable, was refused; but it was diligently inculcated, that, in the article of Tythes, the Mosaic law was still of divine obligation; and that since the Jews, under a less perfect discipline, had been commanded to pay a tenth part of all that they possessed, it would become the disciples of Christ to distin|guish themselves by a superior degree of libe|rality 132 1.182,

and to acquire some merit by resign|ing a superfluous treasure, which must so soon be annihilated with the world itself 133 1.183. It is almost unnecessary to observe, that the revenue of each particular church, which was of so un|certain and fluctuating a nature, must have varied with the poverty or the opulence of the faithful, as they were dispersed in obscure villages, or collected in the great cities of the empire. In the time of the emperor Decius, it was the opi|nion of the magistrates, that the Christians of Rome were possessed of very considerable wealth; that vessels of gold and silver were used in their religious worship, and that many among their proselytes had sold their lands and houses to increase the public riches of the sect, at the expence, indeed, of their unfortunate children, who found themselves beggars, because their parents had been saints 134 1.184. We should listen

with distrust to the suspicions of strangers and enemies: on this occasion, however, they receive a very specious and probable colour from the two following circumstances, the only ones that have reached our knowledge, which define any precise sums, or convey any distinct idea. Al|most at the same period, the bishop of Carthage, from a society less opulent than that of Rome, collected an hundred thousand sesterces (above eight hundred and fifty pounds sterling), on a sudden call of charity to redeem the brethren of Numidia, who had been carried away captives by the barbarians of the desert 135 1.185. About an hundred years before the reign of Decius, the Roman church had received, in a single dona|tion, the sum of two hundred thousand sesterces from a stranger of Pontus, who proposed to fix his residence in the capital 136 1.186. These oblations, for the most part, were made in money; nor

was the society of Christians either desirous or capable of acquiring, to any considerable degree, the incumbrance of landed property. It had been provided by several laws, which were enacted with the same design as our statutes of mortmain, that no real estates should be given or bequeathed to any corporate body, without either a special privilege or a particular dispensation from the emperor or from the senate 137 1.187; who were seldom disposed to grant them in favour of a sect, at first the object of their contempt, and at last of their fears and jealousy. A transaction however is related under the reign of Alexander Severus, which discovers that the restraint was sometimes eluded or suspended, and that the Christians were permitted to claim and to possess lands within the limits of Rome itself 138 1.188. The progress of Christianity, and the civil confusion of the empire, contributed to relax the severity of the laws, and before the close of the third century many considerable estates were bestowed on the opulent churches of Rome, Milan, Car|thage, Antioch, Alexandria, and the other great cities of Italy and the provinces.

The bishop was the natural steward of the * 1.189 church; the public stock was intrusted to his

care without account or controul; the presbyters were confined to their spiritual functions, and the more dependent order of deacons was solely employed in the management and distribution of the ecclesiastical revenue 139 1.190. If we may give credit to the vehement declamations of Cyprian, there were too many among his African brethren, who, in the execution of their charge, violated every precept, not only of evangelic perfection, but even of moral virtue. By some of these un|faithful stewards the riches of the church were lavished in sensual pleasures, by others they were perverted to the purposes of private gain, of fraudulent purchases, and of rapacious usury 140 1.191. But as long as the contributions of the Christian people were free and unconstrained, the abuse of their confidence could not be very frequent, and the general uses to which their liberality was applied, reflected honour on the religious society. A decent portion was reserved for the mainte|nance of the bishop and his clergy; a sufficient sum was allotted for the expences of the public worship, of which the feasts of love, the agapae, as they were called, constituted a very pleasing part. The whole remainder was the sacred pa|trimony of the poor. According to the discre|tion of the bishop, it was distributed to support widows and orphans, the lame, the sick, and the aged of the community; to comfort strangers and pilgrims, and to alleviate the misfortunes of

prisoners and captives, more especially when their sufferings had been occasioned by their firm attachment to the cause of religion 141 1.192. A ge|nerous intercourse of charity united the most distant provinces, and the smaller congregations were cheerfully assisted by the alms of their more opulent brethren 142 1.193. Such an institution, which paid less regard to the merit than to the distress of the object, very materially conduced to the progress of Christianity. The Pagans, who were actuated by a sense of humanity, while they de|rided the doctrines, acknowledged the benevo|lence, of the new sect 143 1.194. The prospect of im|mediate relief and of future protection allured into its hospitable bosom many of those unhappy persons whom the neglect of the world would have abandoned to the miseries of want, of sick|ness, and of old age. There is some reason like|wise to believe, that great numbers of infants, who, according to the inhuman practice of the times, had been exposed by their parents, were frequently rescued from death, baptised, edu|cated, and maintained by the piety of the Chris|tians, and at the expence of the public trea|sure 144 1.195.

II. It is the undoubted right of every society to exclude from its communion and benefits, such among its members as reject or violate those * 1.196 regulations which have been established by ge|neral consent. In the exercise of this power, the censures of the Christian church were chiefly directed against scandalous sinners, and particu|larly those who were guilty of murder, of fraud, or of incontinence; against the authors, or the followers of any heretical opinions which had been condemned by the judgment of the episco|pal order; and against those unhappy persons, who, whether from choice or from compulsion, had polluted themselves after their baptism by any act of idolatrous worship. The consequences of excommunication were of a temporal as well as a spiritual nature. The Christian against whom it was pronounced, was deprived of any part in the oblations of the faithful. The ties both of religious and of private friendship were dissolved: he found himself a profane object of abhorrence to the persons whom he the most esteemed, or by whom he had been the most tenderly beloved; and as far as an expulsion from a respectable society could imprint on his character a mark of disgrace, he was shunned or suspected by the generality of mankind. The situation of these unfortunate exiles was in itself very painful and melancholy; but, as it usually happens, their apprehensions far exceeded their

sufferings. The benefits of the Christian com|munion were those of eternal life, nor could they erase from their minds the awful opinion, that to those ecclesiastical governors by whom they were condemned, the Deity had committed the keys of Hell and of Paradise. The heretics, in|deed, who might be supported by the conscious|ness of their intentions, and by the flattering hope that they alone had discovered the true path of salvation, endeavoured to regain, in their separate assemblies, those comforts, temporal as well as spiritual, which they no longer derived from the great society of Christians. But almost all those who had reluctantly yielded to the power of vice or idolatry, were sensible of their fallen condition, and anxiously desirous of being re|stored to the benefits of the Christian commu|nion.

With regard to the treatment of these penitents, two opposite opinions, the one of justice, the other of mercy, divided the primitive church. The more rigid and inflexible casuists refused them for ever, and without exception, the meanest place in the holy community, which they had disgraced or deserted, and leaving them to the remorse of a guilty conscience, indulged them only with a faint ray of hope, that the contrition of their life and death might possibly be accepted by the Supreme Being 145 1.197. A milder

sentiment was embraced in practice as well as in theory, by the purest and most respectable of the Christian churches 146 1.198. The gates of reconcilia|tion and of Heaven were seldom shut against the returning penitent; but a severe and solemn form of discipline was instituted, which, while it served to expiate his crime, might powerfully deter the spectators from the imitation of his example. Humbled by a public confession, emaciated by * 1.199 fasting, and clothed in sackcloth, the penitent lay prostrate at the door of the assembly, im|ploring with tears the pardon of his offences, and soliciting the prayers of the faithful 147 1.200. If the fault was of a very heinous nature, whole years of penance were esteemed an inadequate satisfaction to the Divine Justice; and it was al|ways by slow and painful gradations that the sinner, the heretic, or the apostate, was re-ad|mitted into the bosom of the church. A sen|tence of perpetual excommunication was, how|ever, reserved for some crimes of an extraordi|nary magnitude, and particularly for the inex|cusable relapses of those penitents who had al|ready experienced and abused the clemency of their ecclesiastical superiors. According to the circumstances or the number of the guilty, the exercise of the Christian discipline was varied by the discretion of the bishops. The councils of Ancyra and Illiberis were held about the same

time, the one in Galatia, the other in Spain; but their respective canons, which are still ex|tant, seem to breathe a very different spirit. The Galatian, who after his baptism had repeat|edly sacrificed to idols, might obtain his pardon by a penance of seven years, and if he had se|duced others to imitate his example, only three years more were added to the term of his exile. But the unhappy Spaniard, who had committed the same offence, was deprived of the hope of reconciliation, even in the article of death; and his idolatry was placed at the head of a list of seventeen other crimes, against which a sentence no less terrible was pronounced. Among these we may distinguish the inexpiable guilt of calum|niating a bishop, a presbyter, or even a dea|con 148 1.201.

The well-tempered mixture of liberality and rigour, the judicious dispensation of rewards and * 1.202 punishments, according to the maxims of policy as well as justice, constituted the human strength of the church. The bishops, whose paternal care extended itself to the government of both worlds, were sensible of the importance of these prerogatives, and covering their ambition with the fair pretence of the love of order, they were jealous of any rival in the exercise of a discipline

so necessary to prevent the desertion of those troops which had inlisted themselves under the banner of the cross, and whose numbers every day became more considerable. From the im|perious declamations of Cyprian, we should na|turally conclude, that the doctrines of excom|munication and penance formed the most essen|tial part of religion; and that it was much less dangerous for the disciples of Christ to neglect the observance of the moral duties, than to de|spise the censures and authority of their bishops. Sometimes we might imagine that we were listen|ing to the voice of Moses, when he commanded the earth to open, and to swallow up, in con|suming flames, the rebellious race which refused obedience to the priesthood of Aaron; and we should sometimes suppose that we heard a Roman consul asserting the majesty of the republic, and declaring his inflexible resolution to enforce the rigour of the laws.

If such irregularities are suffered with impunity (it is thus that the bi|shop of Carthage chides the lenity of his col|league), if such irregularities are suffered, there is an end of EPISCOPAL VIGOUR 149 1.203; an end of the sublime and divine power of go|verning the church, an end of Christianity itself.

Cyprian had renounced those tempo|ral honours, which it is probable he would never have obtained; but the acquisition of such ab|solute command over the consciences and under|standing of a congregation, however obscure or

despised by the world, is more truly grateful to the pride of the human heart, than the possession of the most despotic power, imposed by arms and conquest on a reluctant people.

In the course of this important, though per|haps * 1.204 tedious, inquiry, I have attempted to dis|play the secondary causes which so efficaciously assisted the truth of the Christian religion. If among these causes we have discovered any ar|tificial ornaments, any accidental circumstances, or any mixture of error and passion, it cannot appear surprising that mankind should be the most sensibly affected by such motives as were suited to their imperfect nature. It was by the aid of these causes, exclusive zeal, the immedi|ate expectation of another world, the claim of miracles, the practice of rigid virtue, and the constitution of the primitive church, that Chris|tianity spread itself with so much success in the Roman empire. To the first of these the Chris|tians were indebted for their invincible valour, which disdained to capitulate with the enemy whom they were resolved to vanquish. The three succeeding causes supplied their valour with the most formidable arms. The last of these causes united their courage, directed their arms, and gave their efforts that irresistible weight, which even a small band of well-trained and intrepid volunteers has so often possessed over an undisciplined multitude, ignorant of the subject, and careless of the event of the war. In the various religions of Polytheism, some * 1.205

wandering fanatics of Egypt and Syria, who ad|dressed themselves to the credulous superstition of the populace, were perhaps the only order of priests 150 1.206 that derived their whole support and credit from their sacerdotal profession, and were very deeply affected by a personal concern for the safety or prosperity of their tutelar deities. The ministers of polytheism, both in Rome and in the provinces, were, for the most part, men of a noble birth, and of an affluent fortune, who received, as an honourable distinction, the care of a celebrated temple, or of a public sacrifice, exhibited, very frequently at their own expence, the sacred games 151 1.207, and with cold indifference performed the ancient rites, according to the laws and fashion of their country. As they were engaged in the ordinary occupations of life, their zeal and devotion were seldom animated by a sense of interest, or by the habits of an ecclesi|astical character. Confined to their respective temples and cities, they remained without any connexion of discipline or government; and whilst they acknowledged the supreme jurisdic|tion of the senate, of the college of pontiffs, and

of the emperor, those civil magistrates contented themselves with the easy task of maintaining, in peace and dignity, the general worship of man|kind. We have already seen how various, how loose, and how uncertain were the religious sen|timents of Polytheists. They were abandoned, almost without controul, to the natural workings of a superstitious fancy. The accidental circum|stances of their life and situation determined the object as well as the degree of their devotion; and as long as their adoration was successively prostituted to a thousand deities, it was scarcely possible that their hearts could be susceptible of a very sincere or lively passion for any of them.

When Christianity appeared in the world, even * 1.208 these faint and imperfect impressions had lost much of their original power. Human reason, which by its unassisted strength is incapable of perceiving the mysteries of faith, had already obtained an easy triumph over the folly of Pa|ganism; and when Tertullian or Lactantius em|ploy their labours in exposing its falsehood and extravagance, they are obliged to transcribe the eloquence of Cicero or the wit of Lucian. The contagion of these sceptical writings had been diffused far beyond the number of their readers. The fashion of incredulity was communicated from the philosopher to the man of pleasure or business, from the noble to the plebeian, and from the master to the menial slave who waited at his table, and who eagerly listened to the freedom of his conversation. On public occa|sions

the philosophic part of mankind affected to treat with respect and decency the religious in|stitutions of their country; but their secret con|tempt penetrated through the thin and awkward disguise, and even the people, when they dis|covered that their deities were rejected and de|rided by those whose rank or understanding they were accustomed to reverence, were filled with doubts and apprehensions concerning the truth of those doctrines, to which they had yielded the most implicit belief. The decline of ancient prejudice exposed a very numerous portion of human kind to the danger of a painful and com|fortless situation. A state of scepticism and sus|pense may amuse a few inquisitive minds. But the practice of superstition is so congenial to the multitude, that if they are forcibly awakened, they still regret the loss of their pleasing vision. Their love of the marvellous and supernatural, their curiosity with regard to future events, and their strong propensity to extend their hopes and fears beyond the limits of the visible world, were the principal causes which favoured the establish|ment of Polytheism. So urgent on the vulgar is the necessity of believing, that the fall of any system of mythology will most probably be suc|ceeded by the introduction of some other mode of superstition. Some deities of a more recent and fashionable cast might soon have occupied the deserted temples of Jupiter and Apollo, if, in the decisive moment, the wisdom of Providence had not interposed a genuine revelation, fitted to inspire the most rational esteem and conviction,

whilst, at the same time, it was adorned with all that could attract the curiosity, the wonder, and the veneration of the people. In their actual disposition, as many were almost disengaged from their artificial prejudices, but equally susceptible and desirous of a devout attachment; an object much less deserving would have been sufficient to fill the vacant place in their hearts, and to gratify the uncertain eagerness of their passions. Those who are inclined to pursue this reflection, instead of viewing with astonishment the rapid progress of Christianity, will perhaps be surprised that its success was not still more rapid and still more universal.

It has been observed, with truth as well as * 1.209 propriety, that the conquests of Rome prepared and facilitated those of Christianity. In the second chapter of this work we have attempted to explain in what manner the most civilized provinces of Europe, Asia, and Africa, were united under the dominion of one sovereign, and gradually connected by the most intimate ties of laws, of manners, and of language. The Jews of Palestine, who had fondly expected a temporal deliverer, gave so cold a reception to the mi|racles of the divine prophet, that it was found unnecessary to publish, or at least to preserve, any Hebrew gospel 152 1.210. The authentic histories of the actions of Christ were composed in the

Greek language, at a considerable distance from Jerusalem, and after the Gentile converts were grown extremely numerous 153 1.211. As soon as those histories were translated into the Latin tongue, they were perfectly intelligible to all the subjects of Rome, excepting only to the peasants of Sy|ria and Egypt, for whose benefit particular ver|sions were afterwards made. The public high|ways, which had been constructed for the use of the legions, opened an easy passage for the Chris|tian missionaries from Damascus to Corinth, and from Italy to the extremity of Spain or Britain; nor did those spiritual conquerors encounter any of the obstacles which usually retard or prevent the introduction of a foreign religion into a dis|tant country. There is the strongest reason to believe, that before the reigns of Diocletian and Constantine, the faith of Christ had been preach|ed in every province, and in all the great cities of the empire; but the foundation of the several * 1.212 congregations, the numbers of the faithful who composed them, and their proportion to the un|believing multitude, are now buried in obscurity, or disguised by fiction and declamation. Such imperfect circumstances, however, as have reach|ed our knowledge concerning the increase of the Christian name in Asia and Greece, in Egypt, in Italy, and in the West, we shall now proceed to relate, without neglecting the real or imaginary

acquisitions which lay beyond the frontiers of the Roman empire.

The rich provinces that extend from the * 1.213 Euphrates to the Ionian sea, were the principal theatre on which the apostle of the Gentiles dis|played his zeal and piety. The seeds of the gospel, which he had scattered in a fertile soil, were diligently cultivated by his disciples; and it should seem that, during the two first centuries, the most considerable body of Christians was contained within those limits. Among the so|cieties which were instituted in Syria, none were more ancient or more illustrious than those of Damascus, of Berea or Aleppo, and of Antioch. The prophetic introduction of the Apocalypse has described and immortalised the seven churches of Asia; Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamus, Thya|tira 154 1.214, Sardes, Laodicea, and Philadelphia; and their colonies were soon diffused over that popu|lous country. In a very early period, the islands of Cyprus and Crete, the provinces of Thrace and Macedonia, gave a favourable reception to the new religion; and Christian republics were soon founded in the cities of Corinth, of Sparta, and of Athens 155 1.215. The antiquity of the Greek and Asiatic churches allowed a sufficient space of

time for their increase and multiplication, and even the swarms of Gnostics and other heretics serve to display the flourishing condition of the orthodox church, since the appellation of heretics has always been applied to the less numerous party. To these domestic testimonies we may add the confession, the complaints, and the ap|prehensions of the Gentiles themselves. From the writings of Lucian, a philosopher who had studied mankind, and who describes their man|ners in the most lively colours, we may learn, that, under the reign of Commodus, his native country of Pontus was filled with Epicureans and Christians 156 1.216. Within fourscore years after the death of Christ 157 1.217, the humane Pliny laments the magnitude of the evil which he vainly attempted to eradicate. In his very curious epistle to the emperor Trajan, he affirms, that the temples were almost deserted, that the sacred victims scarcely found any purchasers, and that the su|perstition had not only infected the cities, but had even spread itself into the villages and the open country of Pontus and Bithynia 158 1.218.

Without descending into a minute scrutiny of * 1.219 the expressions, or of the motives of those wri|ters

who either celebrate or lament the progress of Christianity in the East, it may in general be observed, that none of them have left us any grounds from whence a just estimate might be formed of the real numbers of the faithful in those provinces. One circumstance, however, has been fortunately preserved, which seems to cast a more distinct light on this obscure but interesting subject. Under the reign of Theo|dosius, after Christianity had enjoyed, during more than sixty years, the sunshine of Imperial favour, the ancient and illustrious church of Antioch consisted of one hundred thousand per|sons, three thousand of whom were supported out of the public oblations 159 1.220. The splendour and dignity of the queen of the East, the acknow|ledged populousness of Caesarea, Seleucia, and Alexandria, and the destruction of two hundred and fifty thousand souls in the earthquake which afflicted Antioch under the elder Justin 160 1.221, are so many convincing proofs that the whole number of its inhabitants was not less than half a million, and that the Christians, however multiplied by zeal and power, did not exceed a fifth part of that great city. How different a proportion must we adopt when we compare the persecuted with the triumphant church, the West with the East, remote villages with populous towns, and countries recently converted to the faith, with

the place where the believers first received the appellation of Christians! It must not, however, be dissembled, that, in another passage, Chry|sostom, to whom we are indebted for this useful information, computes the multitude of the faith|ful as even superior to that of the Jews and Pa|gans 161 1.222. But the solution of this apparent diffi|culty is easy and obvious. The eloquent preacher draws a parallel between the civil and the eccle|siastical constitution of Antioch; between the list of Christians who had acquired Heaven by bap|tism, and the list of citizens who had a right to share the public liberality. Slaves, strangers, and infants were comprised in the former; they were excluded from the latter.

The extensive commerce of Alexandria, and * 1.223 its proximity to Palestine, gave an easy entrance to the new religion. It was at first embraced by great numbers of the Therapeutae, or Essenians of the lake Mareotis, a Jewish sect which had abated much of its reverence for the Mosaic ceremonies. The austere life of the Essenians, their fasts and excommunications, the community of goods, the love of celibacy, their zeal for martyrdom, and the warmth though not the purity of their faith, already offered a very lively image of the primitive discipline 162 1.224. It was in

the school of Alexandria that the Christian theo|logy appears to have assumed a regular and sci|entifical form; and when Hadrian visited Egypt, he found a church composed of Jews and of Greeks, sufficiently important to attract the no|tice of that inquisitive prince 163 1.225. But the pro|gress of Christianity was for a long time confined within the limits of a single city, which was itself a foreign colony, and till the close of the second century the predecessors of Demetrius were the only prelates of the Egyptian church. Three bishops were consecrated by the hands of Deme|trius, and the number was increased to twenty by his successor Heraclas 164 1.226. The body of the natives, a people distinguished by a sullen inflexi|bility of temper 165 1.227, entertained the new doc|trine with coldness and reluctance: and even in the time of Origen, it was rare to meet with an Egyptian who had surmounted his early preju|dices in favour of the sacred animals of his coun|try 166 1.228. As soon, indeed, as Christianity ascend|ed the throne, the zeal of those barbarians obey|ed

the prevailing impulsion; the cities of Egypt were filled with bishops, and the deserts of The|bais swarmed with hermits.

A perpetual stream of strangers and provin|cials * 1.229 flowed into the capacious bosom of Rome. Whatever was strange or odious, whoever was guilty or suspected, might hope, in the obscurity of that immense capital, to elude the vigilance of the law. In such a various conflux of nations, every teacher, either of truth or of falsehood, every founder, whether of a virtuous or a cri|minal association, might easily multiply his dis|ciples or accomplices. The Christians of Rome, at the time of the accidental persecution of Nero, are represented by Tacitus as already amount|ing to a very great multitude 167 1.230, and the lan|guage of that great historian is almost similar to the style employed by Livy, when he relates the introduction and the suppression of the rites of Bacchus. After the Bacchanals had awakened the severity of the senate, it was likewise appre|hended that a very great multitude, as it were another people, had been initiated into those ab|horred mysteries. A more careful inquiry soon demonstrated, that the offenders did not exceed seven thousand; a number indeed sufficiently alarming, when considered as the object of pub|lic justice 168 1.231. It is with the same candid allow|ance

that we should interpret the vague expres|sions of Tacitus, and in a former instance of Pliny, when they exaggerate the crowds of deluded fanatics who had forsaken the established worship of the gods. The church of Rome was un|doubtedly the first and most populous of the em|pire; and we are possessed of an authentic record which attests the state of religion in that city about the middle of the third century, and after a piece of thirty-eight years. The clergy, at that time, consisted of a bishop, forty-six pres|byters, seven deacons, as many sub-deacons, forty-two acolythes, and fifty readers, exorcists, and porters. The number of widows, of the in|firm, and of the poor, who were maintained by the oblations of the faithful, amounted to fifteen hundred 169 1.232. From reason, as well as from the analogy of Antioch, we may venture to estimate the Christians of Rome at about fifty thousand. The populousness of that great capital cannot perhaps be exactly ascertained; but the most modest calculation will not surely reduce it lower than a million of inhabitants, of whom the Chris|tians might constitute at the most a twentieth part 170 1.233.

The western provincials appeared to have de|rived the knowledge of Christianity from the same source which had diffused among them the lan|guage, * 1.234 the sentiments, and the manners of Rome. In this more important circumstance, Africa, as well as Gaul, was gradually fashioned to the imi|tation of the capital. Yet notwithstanding the many favourable occasions which might invite the Roman missionaries to visit their Latin provinces, it was late before they passed either the sea or the Alps 171 1.235; nor can we discover in those great countries any assured traces either of faith or of persecution that ascend higher than the reign of the Antonines 172 1.236. The slow progress of the go|spel in the cold climate of Gaul, was extremely different from the eagerness with which it seems to have been received on the burning sands of Africa. The African Christians soon formed one of the principal members of the primitive church. The practice introduced into that province, of appointing bishops to the most inconsiderable towns, and very frequently to the most obscure villages, contributed to multiply the splendour

and importance of their religious societies, which during the course of the third century were ani|mated by the zeal of Tertullian, directed by the abilities of Cyprian, and adorned by the eloquence of Lactantius. But if, on the contrary, we turn our eyes towards Gaul, we must content ourselves with discovering, in the time of Marcus Antoni|nus, the feeble and united congregations of Ly|ons and Vienna; and even as late as the reign of Decius, we are assured, that in a few cities only, Arles, Narbonne, Thoulouse, Limoges, Cler|mont, Tours, and Paris, some scattered churches were supported by the devotion of a small num|ber of Christians 173 1.237. Silence is indeed very consistent with devotion, but as it is seldom com|patible with zeal, we may perceive and lament the languid state of Christianity in those pro|vinces which had exchanged the Celtic for the Latin tongue; since they did not, during the three first centuries, give birth to a single eccle|siastical writer. From Gaul, which claimed a just pre-eminence of learning and authority over all the countries on this side of the Alps, the light of the gospel was more faintly reflected on the remote provinces of Spain and Britain; and if we may credit the vehement assertions of Tertullian, they had already received the first rays

of the faith, when he addressed his apology to the magistrates of the emperor Severus 174 1.238. But the obscure and imperfect origin of the western churches of Europe has been so negligently re|corded, that if we would relate the time and manner of their foundation, we must supply the silence of antiquity by those legends which ava|rice or superstition long afterwards dictated to the monks in the lazy gloom of their convents 175 1.239. Of these holy romances, that of the apostle St. James can alone, by its single extravagance, de|serve to be mentioned. From a peaceful fisherman of the lake of Gennesareth, he was transformed into a valorous knight, who charged at the head of the Spanish chivalry in their battles against the Moors. The gravest historians have cele|brated his exploits; the miraculous shrine of Compostella displayed his power; and the sword of a military order, assisted by the terrors of the Inquisition, was sufficient to remove every ob|jection of profane criticism 176 1.240.

The progress of Christianity was not confined * 1.241 to the Roman empire; and according to the pri|mitive fathers, who interpret facts by prophecy,

the new religion, within a century after the death of its divine author, had already visited every part of the globe.

There exists not, says Justin Martyr, a people, whether Greek or Barbarian, or any other race of men, by what|soever appellation or manners they may be distinguished, however ignorant of arts or agriculture, whether they dwell under tents, or wander about in covered waggons, among whom prayers are not offered up in the name of a crucified Jesus to the Father and Creator of all things 177 1.242.

But this splendid exaggeration, which even at present it would be extremely difficult to reconcile with the real state of man|kind, can be considered only as the rash sally of a devout but careless writer, the measure of whose belief was regulated by that of his wishes. But neither the belief, nor the wishes of the fa|thers, can alter the truth of history. It will still remain an undoubted fact, that the barbarians of Scythia and Germany, who afterwards subverted the Roman monarchy, were involved in the dark|ness of paganism; and that even the conversion of Iberia, of Armenia, or of Aethiopia, was not attempted with any degree of success till the sceptre was in the hands of an orthodox empe|ror 178 1.243. Before that time, the various accidents

of war and commerce might indeed diffuse an imperfect knowledge of the gospel among the tribes of Caledonia 179 1.244, and among the borderers of the Rhine, the Danube, and the Euphrates 180 1.245. Beyond the last-mentioned river, Edessa was distinguished by a firm and early adherence to the faith 181 1.246. From Edessa, the principles of Christianity were easily introduced into the Greek and Syrian cities which obeyed the successors of Artaxerxes; but they do not appear to have made any deep impression on the minds of the Persians, whose religious system, by the labours of a well-disciplined order of priests, had been constructed with much more art and solidity than the uncertain mythology of Greece and Rome 182 1.247.

From this impartial though imperfect survey of the progress of Christianity, it may perhaps seem probable, that the number of its proselytes * 1.248 has been excessively magnified by fear on the one side, and by devotion on the other. According to the irreproachable testimony of Origen 183 1.249, the proportion of the faithful was very inconsider|able when compared with the multitude of an unbelieving world; but, as we are left without any distinct information, it is impossible to deter|mine, and it is difficult even to conjecture, the real numbers of the primitive Christians. The most favourable calculation, however, that can be deduced from the examples of Antioch and of Rome, will not permit us to imagine that more than a twentieth part of the subjects of the empire had enlisted themselves under the banner of the cross before the important conversion of Constantine. But their habits of faith, of zeal, and of union, seemed to multiply their numbers; and the same causes which contributed to their future increase, served to render their actual strength more apparent and more formidable.

Such is the constitution of civil society, that * 1.250 whilst a few persons are distinguished by riches, by honours, and by knowledge, the body of the people is condemned to obscurity, ignorance, and poverty. The Christian religion, which addressed itself to the whole human race, must consequently collect a far greater number of proselytes from the lower than from the superior ranks of life.

This innocent and natural circumstance has been improved into a very odious imputation, which seems to be less strenuously denied by the apolo|gists, than it is urged by the adversaries, of the faith; that the new sect of Christians was almost entirely composed of the dregs of the populace, of peasants and mechanics, of boys and women, of beggars and slaves, the last of whom might sometimes introduce the missionaries into the rich and noble families to which they belonged. These obscure teachers (such was the charge of malice and infidelity) are as mute in public as they are loquacious and dogmatical in private. Whilst they cautiously avoid the dangerous en|counter of philosophers, they mingle with the rude and illiterate crowd, and insinuate them|selves into those minds, whom their age, their sex, or their education, has the best disposed to receive the impression of superstitious terrors 184 1.251,

This unfavourable picture, though not devoid * 1.252 of a faint resemblance, betrays, by its dark co|louring and distorted features, the pencil of an enemy. As the humble faith of Christ diffused itself through the world, it was embraced by several persons who derived some consequence from the advantages of nature or fortune. Aris|tides, who presented an eloquent apology to the emperor Hadrian, was an Athenian philosopher 185 1.253. Justin Martyr had sought divine knowledge in the schools of Zeno, of Aristotle, of Pythagoras,

and of Plato, before he fortunately was accosted by the old man, or rather the angel, who turned his attention to the study of the Jewish pro|phets 186 1.254. Clemens of Alexandria had acquired much various reading in the Greek, and Ter|tullian in the Latin, language. Julius Africanus and Origen possessed a very considerable share of the learning of their times; and although the style of Cyprian is very different from that of Lactantius, we might almost discover that both those writers had been public teachers of rhe|toric. Even the study of philosophy was at length introduced among the Christians, but it was not always productive of the most salutary effects; knowledge was as often the parent of heresy as of devotion, and the description which was designed for the followers of Artemon, may, with equal propriety, be applied to the various sects that resisted the successors of the apostles.

They presume to alter the holy scriptures, to abandon the ancient rule of faith, and to form their opinions according to the subtile precepts of logic. The science of the church is neglected for the study of geometry, and they lose sight of Heaven while they are em|ployed in measuring the earth. Euclid is per|petually in their hands. Aristotle and Theo|phrastus are the objects of their admiration; and they express an uncommon reverence for the works of Galen. Their errors are derived

from the abuse of the arts and sciences of the infidels, and they corrupt the simplicity of the gospel by the refinements of human reason 187 1.255.

Nor can it be affirmed with truth, that the * 1.256 advantages of birth and fortune were always separated from the profession of Christianity. Several Roman citizens were brought before the tribunal of Pliny, and he soon discovered, that a great number of persons of every order of men in Bithynia had deserted the religion of their an|cestors 188 1.257. His unsuspected testimony may, in this instance, obtain more credit than the bold challenge of Tertullian, when he addresses him|self to the fears as well as to the humanity of the proconsul of Africa, by assuring him, that if he persists in his cruel intentions, he must decimate Carthage, and that he will find among the guilty many persons of his own rank, senators and matrons of noblest extraction, and the friends or relations of his most intimate friends 189 1.258. It appears, however, that about forty years after-wards the emperor Valerian was persuaded of the truth of this assertion, since in one of his rescripts he evidently supposes, that senators, Roman knights, and ladies of quality, were engaged in

the Christian sect 190 1.259. The church still continued to increase its outward splendour as it lost its internal purity; and, in the reign of Diocletian, the palace, the courts of justice, and even the army, concealed a multitude of Christians, who endeavoured to reconcile the interests of the pre|sent, with those of a future, life.

And yet these exceptions are either too few in * 1.260 number, or too recent in time, entirely to re|move the imputation of ignorance and obscurity which has been so arrogantly cast on the first proselytes of Christianity. Instead of employing in our defence the fictions of later ages, it will be more prudent to convert the occasion of scan|dal into a subject of edification. Our serious thoughts will suggest to us, that the apostles themselves were chosen by providence among the fishermen of Galilee, and that the lower we de|press the temporal condition of the first Chris|tians, the more reason we shall find to admire their merit and success. It is incumbent on us diligently to remember, that the kingdom of Heaven was promised to the poor in spirit, and that minds afflicted by calamity and the contempt of mankind, cheerfully listen to the divine pro|mise of future happiness; while, on the contrary, the fortunate are satisfied with the possession of this world; and the wise abuse in doubt and dis|pute their vain superiority of reason and know|ledge.

We stand in need of such reflections to com|fort * 1.261 us for the loss of some illustrious characters,

which in our eyes might have seemed the most worthy of the heavenly present. The names of Seneca, of the elder and the younger Pliny, of Tacitus, of Plutarch, of Galen, of the slave Epic|tetus, and of the emperor Marcus Antoninus, adorn the age in which they flourished, and exalt the dignity of human nature. They filled with glory their respective stations, either in active or contemplative life; their excellent understand|ings were improved by study; Philosophy had purified their minds from the prejudices of the popular superstition; and their days were spent in the pursuit of truth and the practice of virtue. Yet all these sages (it is no less an object of sur|prise than of concern) overlooked or rejected the perfection of the Christian system. Their lan|guage or their silence equally discover their con|tempt for the growing sect, which in their time had diffused itself over the Roman empire. Those among them who condescend to mention the Christians, consider them only as obstinate and perverse enthusiasts, who exacted an implicit submission to their mysterious doctrines, without being able to produce a single argument that could engage the attention of men of sense and learning 191 1.262.

It is at least doubtful whether any of these phi|losophers perused the apologies which the primi|tive Christians repeatedly published in behalf of * 1.263 themselves and of their religion; but it is much to be lamented that such a cause was not defended by abler advocates. They expose with super|fluous wit and eloquence, the extravagance of Polytheism. They interest our compassion by displaying the innocence and sufferings of their injured brethren. But when they would demon|strate the divine origin of Christianity, they insist much more strongly on the predictions which announced, than on the miracles which accompanied, the appearance of the Messiah. Their favourite argument might serve to edify a Christian or to convert a Jew, since both the one and the other acknowledge the authority of those prophecies, and both are obliged, with devout reverence, to search for their sense and their accomplishment. But this mode of per|suasion loses much of its weight and influence, when it is addressed to those who neither under|stand nor respect the Mosaic dispensation and the prophetic style 192 1.264. In the unskilful hands of Justin and of the succeeding apologists, the su|blime meaning of the Hebrew oracles evaporates in distant types, affected conceits, and cold alle|gories;

and even their authenticity was rendered suspicious to an unenlightened Gentile, by the mixture of pious forgeries, which, under the names of Orpheus, Hermes, and the Sibyls 193 1.265, were obtruded on him as of equal value with the genuine inspirations of Heaven. The adoption of fraud and sophistry in the defence of revela|tion, too often reminds us of the injudicious conduct of those poets who load their invulnerable heroes with a useless weight of cumbersome and brittle armour.

But how shall we excuse the supine inattention * 1.266 of the Pagan and philosophic world, to those evidences which were presented by the hand of Omnipotence, not to their reason, but to their senses? During the age of Christ, of his apostles, and of their first disciples, the doctrine which they preached was confirmed by innumerable prodi|gies. The lame walked, the blind saw, the sick were healed, the dead were raised, daemons were expelled, and the laws of Nature were frequently suspended for the benefit of the church. But the * 1.267 sages of Greece and Rome turned aside from the awful spectacle, and pursuing the ordinary occu|pations of life and study, appeared unconscious of any alterations in the moral or physical govern|ment

of the world. Under the reign of Tibe|rius, the whole earth 94 1.268, or at least a celebrated province of the Roman empire 195 1.269, was involved in a praeternatural darkness of three hours. Even this miraculous event, which ought to have ex|cited the wonder, the curiosity, and the devotion of mankind, passed without notice in an age of science and history 196 1.270. It happened during the lifetime of Seneca and the elder Pliny, who must have experienced the immediate effects, or re|ceived the earliest intelligence, of the prodigy. Each of these philosophers, in a laborious work, has recorded all the great phenomena of Nature, earthquakes, meteors, comets, and eclipses, which his indefatigable curiosity could collect 197 1.271. Both the one and the other have omitted to mention the greatest phenomenon to which the mortal eye has been witness since the creation of the globe. A distinct chapter of Pliny 198 1.272 is designed for eclipses of an extraordinary nature and unusual duration; but he contents himself with describ|ing

the singular defect of light which followed the murder of Caesar, when, during the greatest part of a year, the orb of the sun appeared pale and without splendour. This season of obscurity, which cannot surely be compared with the prae|ternatural darkness of the Passion, had been already celebrated by most of the poets 199 1.273 and historians of that memorable age 200 1.274.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Import|ance of the inquiry.
• * 1.2

  Its difficul|ties.
• * 1.3

  Five causes of the growth of Christiani|ty.
• * 1.4

  THE FIRST CAUSE. Zeal of the Jews.
• 1 1.5

  Dum Assyrios penes, Medosque, et Persas Oriens fuit, despec|tissima pars servientium. Tacit. Hist. v. 8. Herodotus, who visited Asia whilst it obeyed the last of those empires, slightly mentions the Syrians of Palestine, who, according to their own confession, had received from Egypt the rite of circumcision. See l. ii. c. 104.
• 2 1.6

  Diodorus Siculus, l. xl. Dion Cassius, l. xxxvii. p. 121. Tacit. Hist. v. 1—9. Justin, xxxvi. 2, 3.
• 3 1.7

  Tradidit arcano quaecunque volumine Moses, Non monstrare vias eadem nisi sacra colenti, Quaesitos ad fontes solos deducere verpas.

  The letter of this law is not to be found in the present volume of Moses. But the wise, the humane Maimonides openly teaches, that if an idolater fall into the water, a Jew ought not to save him from instant death. See Basnage, Histoire des Juifs, l. vi. c. 28.
• 4 1.8

  A Jewish sect, which indulged themselves in a sort of occasional conformity, derived from Herod, by whose example and authority they had been seduced, the name of Herodians. But their numbers were so inconsiderable, and their duration so short, that Josephus has not thought them worthy of his notice. See Prideaux's Con|nection, vol. ii. p. 285.
• 5 1.9

  Cicero pro Flacco, c. 28.
• 6 1.10

  Philo de Legatione. Augustus left a foundation for a perpetual sacrifice. Yet he approved of the neglect which his grandson Caius expressed towards the temple of Jerusalem. See Sueton. in August. c. 93. and Casaubon's notes on that passage.
• 7 1.11

  See, in particular, Joseph. Antiquitat. xvii. 6. xviii. 3. and De Bel. Judaic. i. 33. and ii. 9. Edit. Havercamp.
• 8 1.12

  Jussi a Caio Caesare, effigiem ejus in templo locare arma potius sumpsere. Tacit. Hist. v. 9. Philo and Josephus gave a very cir|cumstantial, but a very rhetorical, account of this transaction, which exceedingly perplexed the governor of Syria. At the first mention of this idolatrous proposal, King Agrippa fainted away; and did not recover his senses till the third day.
• * 1.13

  Its gradual increase.
• 9 1.14

  For the enumeration of the Syrian and Arabian deities, it may be observed, that Milton has comprised in one hundred and thirty very beautiful lines, the two large and learned syntagmas, which Selden had composed on that abstruse subject.
• 10 1.15

  How long will this people provoke me? and how long will it be ere they believe me, for all the signs which I have shewn among them?

  (Numbers, xiv. 11.) It would be easy, but it would be unbecoming, to justify the complaint of the Deity from the whole tenor of the Mosaic history.
• * 1.16

  Their reli|gion better suited to defence than to conquest.
• 11 1.17

  All that relates to the Jewish proselytes has been very ably treated by Basnage, Hist. des Juifs, l. vi. c. 6, 7.
• 12 1.18

  See Exod. xxiv. 23. Deut. xvi. 16. the commentators, and a very sensible note in the Universal History, vol. i. p. 603. edit. fol.
• 13 1.19

  When Pompey, using or abusing the right of conquest, entered into the Holy of Holies, it was observed with amazement,

  Nullâ intus Deûm effigie, vacuam sedem et inania arcana.

  Tacit. Hist. v. 9. It was a popular saying, with regard to the Jews,

  Nil praeter nubes et coeli numen adorant.
• 14 1.20

  A second kind of circumcision was inflicted on a Samaritan or Egyptian proselyte. The sullen indifference of the Talmudists, with respect to the conversion of strangers, may be seen in Basnage, His|toire des Juifs, l. vi. c. 6.
• * 1.21

  More libe|ral zeal of Christiani|ty.
• * 1.22

  Obstinacy and reasons of the be|lieving Jews.
• 15 1.23

  These arguments were urged with great ingenuity by the Jew Orobio, and refuted with equal ingenuity and candour by the Christian Limborch. See the Amica Collatio (it well deserves that name), or account of the dispute between them.
• 16 1.24

  Jesus—circumcisus erat; cibis utebatur Judaicis; vestitû simili; purgatos scabie mittebat ad sacerdotes; Paschata et alios dies festos religiosé observabat: Si quos sanavit sabatho, ostendit non tantum ex lege, sed et exceptis sententiis talia opera sabatho non in|terdicta. Grotius de veritate Religionis Christianae, l. v. c. 7. A little afterwards (c. 12.), he expatiates on the condescension of the apostles.
• * 1.25

  The Na|zarene church of Jerusalem.
• 17 1.26

  Paene omnes Christum Deum sub legis observatione credebant. Sulpicius Severus, ii. 31. See Eusebius, Hist. Ecclesiast. l. iv. c. 5.
• 18 1.27

  Mosheim de Rebus Christianis ante Constantinum Magnum, p. 153. In this masterly performance, which I shall often have oc|casion to quote, he enters much more fully into the state of the pri|mitive church, than he has an opportunity of doing in his General History.
• 19 1.28

  Eusebius, l. iii. c. 5. Le Clerc, Hist. Ecclesiast. p. 605. Dur|ing this occasional absence, the bishop and church of Pella still re|tained the title of Jerusalem. In the same manner, the Roman pontiffs resided seventy years at Avignon; and the patriarchs of Alexandria have long since transferred their episcopal seat to Cairo.
• 20 1.29

  Dion Cassius, l. lxix. The exile of the Jewish nation from Jerusalem is attested by Aristo of Pella (apud Euseb. l. iv. c. 6.), and is mentioned by several ecclesiastical writers; though some of them too hastily extend this interdiction to the whole country of Pa|lestine.
• 21 1.30

  Eusebius, l. iv. c. 6. Sulpicius Severus, ii. 31. By com|paring their unsatisfactory accounts, Mosheim (p. 327, &c.) has drawn out a very distinct representation of the circumstances and motives of this revolution.
• * 1.31

  The Ebio|nites.
• 22 1.32

  Le Clerc. (Hist. Ecclesiast. p. 477. 535.) seems to have collected from Eusebius, Jerome, Epiphanius, and other writers, all the principal circumstances that relate to the Nazarenes or Ebionites. The nature of their opinions soon divided them into a stricter and a milder sect; and there is some reason to conjecture, that the family of Jesus Christ remained members, at least, of the latter and more moderate party.
• 23 1.33

  Some writers have been pleased to create an Ebion, the ima|ginary author of their sect and name. But we can more safely rely on the learned Eusebius than on the vehement Tertullian, or the credulous Epiphanius. According to Le Clerc, the Hebrew word Ebjonim may be translated into Latin by that of Pauperes. See Hist. Ecclesiast. p. 477.
• 24 1.34

  See the very curious Dialogue of Justin Martyr with the Jew Tryphon. The conference between them was held at Ephesus, in the reign of Antoninus Pius, and about twenty years after the re|turn of the church of Pella to Jerusalem. For this date consult the accurate note of Tillemont, Memoires Ecclesiastiques, tom. ii. p. 511.
• 25 1.35

  Of all the systems of Christianity, that of Abyssinia is the only one which still adheres to the Mosaic rites (Geddes's Church His|tory of Aethiopia, and Dissertations de le Grand sur la Relation du P. Lobo.). The eunuch of the queen Candace might suggest some suspicions; but as we are assured (Socrates, i. 19. Sozomen, ii. 24. Ludolphus, p. 281.), that the Aethiopians were not con|verted till the fourth century; it is more reasonable to believe, that they respected the Sabbath, and distinguished the forbidden meats, in imitation of the Jews, who, in a very early period, were seated on both sides of the Red Sea. Circumcision had been practised by the most ancient Aethiopians, from motives of health and cleanli|ness, which seem to be explained in the Recherches Philosophiques sur les Americains, tom. ii. p. 117.
• * 1.36

  The Gno|stics.
• 26 1.37

  Beausobre, Histoire du Manicheisme, l. i. c. 3. has stated their objections, particularly those of Faustus, the adversary of Augustin, with the most learned impartiality.
• 27 1.38

  Apud ipsos fides obstinata, misericordia in promptû: adversus omnes alios hostile odium. Tacit. Hist. v. 4. Surely Tacitus had seen the Jews with too favourable an eye. The perusal of Josephus must have destroyed the antithesis.
• 28 1.39

  Dr. Burnet (Archaeologia, l. ii. c. 7.) has discussed the first chapters of Genesis with too much wit and freedom.
• 29 1.40

  The milder Gnostics considered Jehovah, the Creator, as a Being of a mixed nature between God and the Daemon. Others confounded him with the evil principle. Consult the second cen|tury of the general history of Mosheim, which gives a very distinct, though concise, account of their strange opinions on this subject.
• 30 1.41

  See Beausobre, Hist. du Manicheisme, l. i. c. 4. Origen and St. Augustin were among the Allegorists.
• * 1.42

  Their sects, progress, and influence.
• 31 1.43

  Hegesippus, ap. Euseb. l. iii. 32. iv. 22. Clemens Alexan|drin. Stromat. vii. 17.
• 32 1.44

  In the account of the Gnostics of the second and third cen|turies, Mosheim is ingenious and candid; Le Clerc dull, but exact; Beausobre almost always an apologist; and it is much to be feared, that the primitive fathers are very frequently calumniators.
• 33 1.45

  See the catalogues of Irenaeus and Epiphanius. It must indeed be allowed, that those writers were inclined to multiply the number of sects which opposed the unity of the church.
• 34 1.46

  Eusebius, l. iv. c. 15. Sozomen. l. ii. c. 32. See in Bayle, in the article of Marcion, a curious detail of a dispute on that subject. It should seem that some of the Gnostics (the Basilidians) declined, and even refused, the honour of martyrdom. Their reasons were singular and abstruse. See Mosheim, p. 359.
• 35 1.47

  See a very remarkable passage of Origen (Proem. ad Lucan.). That indefatigable writer, who had consumed his life in the study of the scriptures, relies for their authenticity on the inspired autho|rity of the church. It was impossible that the Gnostics could receive our present gospels, many parts of which (particularly in the resur|rection of Christ) are directly, and as it might seem designedly, pointed against their favourite tenets. It is therefore somewhat sin|gular that Ignatius (Epist. ad Smyrn. Patr. Apostol. tom. ii. p. 34.) should chuse to employ a vague and doubtful tradition, instead of quoting the certain testimony of the evangelists.
• 36 1.48

  Faciunt favos et vespae; faciunt ecclesias et Marcionitae, is the strong expression of Tertullian, which I am obliged to quote from memory. In the time of Epiphanius (advers. Haereses, p. 302.) the Marcionites were very numerous in Italy, Syria, Egypt, Arabia, and Persia.
• 37 1.49

  Augustin is a memorable instance of this gradual progress from reason to faith. He was, during several years, engaged in the Ma|nichaean sect.
• * 1.50

  The dae|mons con|sidered as the gods of antiquity.
• 38 1.51

  The unanimous sentiment of the primitive church is very clearly explained by Justin. Martyr. Apolog. Major, by Athenagoras Legat. c. 22, &c. and by Lactantius, Institut. Divin. ii. 14-19.
• 39 1.52

  Tertullian (Apolog. c. 23.) alleges the confession of the Dae|mons themselves as often as they were tormented by the Christian exorcists.
• * 1.53

  Abhor|rence of the Chris|tians for idolatry.
• 40 1.54

  Tertullian has written a most severe treatise against idolatry, to caution his brethren against the hourly danger of incurring that guilt. Recogita sylvam, et quantae latitant spinae. De Coronâ Militis, c. 10.
• * 1.55

  Ceremo|nies.
• 41 1.56

  The Roman senate was always held in a temple or consecrated place (Aulus Gellius, xiv. 7.). Before they entered on business, every senator dropt some wine and frankincense on the altar. Sue|ton. in August. c. 35.
• 42 1.57

  See Tertullian, De Spectaculis. This severe reformer shews no more indulgence to a tragedy of Euripides, than to a combat of gladiators. The dress of the actors particularly offends him. By the use of the lofty buskin, they impiously strive to add a cubit to their stature, c. 23.
• 43 1.58

  The ancient practice of concluding the entertainment with li|bations, may be found in every classic. Socrates and Seneca, in their last moments, made a noble application of this custom. Post|quam stagnum calidae aquae introiit, respergens proximos servorum, additâ voce, libare se liquorem illum Jovi Liberatori. Tacit. An|nal. xv. 64.
• 44 1.59

  See the elegant but idolatrous hymn of Catullus, on the nup|tials of Manlius and Julia. O Hymen, Hymenaee Iö! Quis huic Deo compararier ausit?
• 45 1.60

  The ancient funerals (in those of Misenus and Pallas) are no less accurately described by Virgil, than they are illustrated by his commentator Servius. The pile itself was an altar, the flames were fed with the blood of victims, and all the assistants were sprinkled with lustral water.
• * 1.61

  Arts.
• 46 1.62

  Tertullian de Idololatria, c. 11.
• 47 1.63

  See every part of Montsaucon's Antiquities. Even the re|verses of the Greek and Roman coins were frequently of an idola|trous nature. Here indeed the scruples of the Christian were sus|pended by a stronger passion.
• 48 1.64

  Tertullian de Idololatria, c. 20, 21, 22.

  If a Pagan friend (on the occasion perhaps of sneezing) used the familiar expression of "Jupiter bless you," the Christian was obliged to protest against the divinity of Jupiter.
• * 1.65

  Festivals.
• 49 1.66

  Consult the most laboured work of Ovid, his imperfect Fasti. He finished no more than the first six months of the year. The com|pilation of Macrobius is called the Saturnalia, but it is only a small part of the first book that beare any relation to the title.
• 50 1.67

  Tertullian has composed a defence, or rather panegyric, of the rash action of a Christian soldier, who, by throwing away his crown of laurel, had exposed himself and his brethren to the most imminent danger. By the mention of the emperors (Severus and Caracalla) it is evident, notwithstanding the wishes of M. de Tille|mont, that Tertullian composed his treatise De Coronâ, long before he was engaged in the errors of the Montanists. See Memoires Ecclesiastiques, tom. iii. p. 384.
• * 1.68

  Zeal for Christian|ity.
• 51 1.69

  In particular, the first book of the Tusculan Questions, and the treatise De Senectute, and the Somnium Scipionis, contain, in the most beautiful language, every thing that Grecian philosophy, or Roman good sense, could possibly suggest on this dark but im|portant object.
• * 1.70

  THE SE|COND CAUSE. The doc|trine of the im|mortality of the soul among the philoso|phers;
• 52 1.71

  The pre-existence of human souls, so far at least as that doc|trine is compatible with religion, was adopted by many of the Greek and Latin fathers. See Beausobre, Hist. du Manicheisme, l. vi. c. 4.
• 53 1.72

  See Cicero pro Cluent. c. 61. Caesar ap. Sallust. de Bell. Catilin. c. 50. Juvenal. Satir. ii. 149. Esse aliquos manes, et subterranea regna, — Nec pueri credunt, nisi qui nondum aere lavantur.
• * 1.73

  among the Pagans of Greece and Rome;
• 54 1.74

  The xith book of the Odyssey gives a very dreary and inco|herent account of the infernal shades. Pindar and Virgil have em|bellished the picture; but even those poets, though more correct than their great model, are guilty of very strange inconsistencies. See Bayle, Responses aux Questions d'un Provincial, part iii. c. 22.
• 55 1.75

  See the xvith epistle of the first book of Horace, the xiiith Sa|tire of Juvenal, and the iid Satire of Persius: these popular discourses express the sentiment and language of the multitude.
• * 1.76

  among the barbari|ans;
• 56 1.77

  If we confine ourselves to the Gauls, we may observe, that they intrusted, not only their lives, but even their money, to the security of another world. Vetus ille mos Gallorum occurrit (says Valerius Maximus, l. ii. c. 6. p. 10.), quos memoria proditur est, pecunias mutuas, quae his apud inferos redderentur, dare solitos. The same custom is more darkly insinuated by Mela, l. iii. c. 2. It is almost needless to add, that the profits of trade hold a just proportion to the credit of the merchant, and that the Druids de|rived from their holy profession a character of responsibility, which could scarcely be claimed by any other order of men.
• * 1.78

  among the Jews;
• 57 1.79

  The right reverend author of the Divine Legation of Moses assigns a very curious reason for the omission, and most ingeniously retorts it on the unbelievers.
• 58 1.80

  See Le Clere (Prolegomena ad Hist. Ecclesiast. sect. 1. c. 8.). His authority seems to carry the greater weight, as he has written a learned and judicious commentary on the books of the Old Testa|ment.
• 59 1.81

  Joseph. Antiquitat. l. xiii. c. 10. De Bell. Jud. ii. 8. Ac|cording to the most natural interpretation of his words, the Saddu|cees admitted only the Pentateuch; but it has pleased some modern critics to add the prophets to their creed, and to suppose, that they contented themselves with rejecting the traditions of the Pharisees. Dr. Jortin has argued that point in his Remarks on Ecclesiastical History, vol. ii. p. 103.
• * 1.82

  among the Christians.
• * 1.83

  Approach|ing end of the world.
• 60 1.84

  This expectation was countenanced by the twenty-fourth chapter of St. Matthew, and by the first epistle of St. Paul to the Thessalonians. Erasmus removes the difficulty by the help of alle|gory and metaphor; and the learned Grotius ventures to insinuate, that, for wise purposes, the pious deception was permitted to take place.
• * 1.85

  Doctrine of the Mil|lennium.
• 61 1.86

  See Burnet's Sacred Theory, part iii. c. 5. This tradition may be traced as high as the author of the Epistle of Barnabas, who wrote in the first century, and who seems to have been half a Jew.
• 62 1.87

  The primitive church of Antioch computed almost 6000 years from the creation of the world to the birth of Christ. Africanus, Lactantius, and the Greek church, have reduced that number to 5500, and Eusebius has contented himself with 5200 years. These calculations were formed on the Septuagint, which was universally received during the six first centuries. The authority of the Vul|gate and of the Hebrew text has determined the moderns, Protest|ants as well as Catholics, to prefer a period of about 4000 years; though, in the study of profane antiquity, they often find them|selves streightened by those narrow limits.
• 63 1.88

  Most of these pictures were borrowed from a misinterpretation of Isaiah, Daniel, and the Apocalypse. One of the grossest images may be found in Irenaeus (l. v. p. 455.), the disciple of Papias, who had seen the apostle St. John.
• 64 1.89

  See the second dialogue of Justin with Tryphon, and the se|venth book of Lactantius. It is unnecessary to allege all the in|termediate fathers, as the fact is not disputed. Yet the curious reader may consult Daillè de Usu Patrum, l. ii. c. 4.
• 65 1.90

  The testimony of Justin, of his own faith and that of his or|thodox brethren, in the doctrine of a Millennium, is delivered in the clearest and most solemn manner (Dialog. cum Tryphonte Jud. p. 177, 178. Edit. Benedictin.). If in the beginning of this im|portant passage there is any thing like an inconsistency, we may impute it, as we think proper, either to the author or to his tran|scribers.
• 66 1.91

  Dupin, Bibliothéque Ecclesiastique, tom. i. p. 223. tom. ii. p. 366. and Mosheim, p. 720; though the latter of these learned divines is not altogether candid on this occasion.
• 67 1.92

  In the council of Laodicea (about the year 360) the Apocalypse was tacitly excluded from the sacred canon, by the same churches of Asia to which it is addressed; and we may learn from the complaint of Sulpicius Severus, that their sentence had been ratified by the greater number of Christians of his time. From what causes then is the Apocalypse at present so generally received by the Greek, the Roman, and the Protestant churches? The following ones may be assigned. 1. The Greeks were subdued by the authority of an im|postor, who, in the sixth century, assumed the character of Dionysius the Areopagite. 2. A just apprehension, that the grammarians might become more important than the theologians, engaged the council of Trent to fix the seal of their infallibility on all the books of Scrip|ture, contained in the Latin Vulgate, in the number of which the Apocalypse was fortunately included. (Fra Paolo, Istoria del Con|cilio Tridentino, l. ii.) 3. The advantage of turning those mys|terious prophecies against the See of Rome, inspired the protestants with uncommon veneration for so useful an ally. See the ingenious and elegant discourses of the present bishop of Litchfield on that un|promising subject.
• * 1.93

  Conflagra|tion of Rome and of the world.
• 68 1.94

  Lactantius (Institut. Divin. vii. 15, &c.) relates the dismal tale of futurity with great spirit and eloquence.
• 69 1.95

  On this subject every reader of taste will be entertained with the third part of Burnet's Sacred Theory. He blends philosophy, scrip|ture, and tradition, into one magnificent system; in the description of which, he displays a strength of fancy not inferior to that of Mil|ton himself.
• * 1.96

  The Pa|gans de|voted to eternal pu|nishment.
• 70 1.97

  And yet whatever may be the language of individuals, it is still the public doctrine of all the Christian churches; nor can even our own refuse to admit the conclusions which must be drawn from the viiith and the xviiith of her Articles. The Jansenists, who have so diligently studied the works of the fathers, maintain this senti|ment with distinguished zeal, and the learned M. de Tillemont never dismisses a virtuous emperor without pronouncing his damnation. Zuinglius is perhaps the only leader of a party who has ever adopt|ed the milder sentiment, and he gave no less offence to the Lutherans than to the Catholics. See Bossuet, Histoire des Variations des Eglises Protestantes, l. ii. c. 19—22.
• 71 1.98

  Justin and Clemens of Alexandria allow that some of the phi|losophers were instructed by the Logos; confounding its double sig|nification, of the human reason, and of the Divine Word.
• 72 1.99

  Tertullian, De Spectaculis, c. 30. In order to ascertain the degree of authority which the zealous African had acquired, it may be sufficient to allege the testimony of Cyprian, the doctor and guide of all the western churches. (See Prudent. Hymn. xiii. 100.) As often as he applied himself to his daily study of the writings of Tertullian, he was accustomed to say, "Da mihi magistrum; Give me my master." (Hieronym. de Viris Illustribus, tom. i. p. 284.)
• * 1.100

  Were of|ten con|verted by their fears.
• * 1.101

  THE THIRD CAUSE. Miracu|lous pow|ers of the primitive church.
• 73 1.102

  Notwithstanding the evasions of Dr. Middleton, it is impossible to overlook the clear traces of visions and inspiration, which may be found in the apostolic fathers.
• 74 1.103

  Irenaeus adv. Haeres. Proem. p. 3. Dr. Middleton (Free In|quiry, p. 96, &c.) observes, that as this pretension of all others was the most difficult to support by art, it was the soonest given up. The observation suits his hypothesis.
• 75 1.104

  Athenagoras in Legatione. Justin Martyr, Cohort. ad Gentes. Tertullian advers. Marcionit. l. iv. These descriptions are not very unlike the prophetic fury, for which Cicero (de Divinat. ii. 54.) expresses so little reverence.
• 76 1.105

  Tertullian (Apolog. c. 23.) throws out a bold defiance to the Pagan magistrates. Of the primitive miracles, the power of exor|cising, is the only one which has been assumed by Protestants.
• 77 1.106

  Irenaeus adv. Haereses, l. ii. 56, 57. l. v. c. 6. Mr. Dod|well (Dissert. ad Irenaeum, ii. 42.) concludes, that the second cen|tury was still more fertile in miracles than the first.
• 78 1.107

  Theophilus ad Autolycum, l. i. p. 345. Edit. Benedictin. Paris, 1742.
• * 1.108

  Their truth con|tested.
• 79 1.109

  Dr. Middleton sent out his Introduction in the year 1747, pub|lished his Free Inquiry in 1749, and before his death, which hap|pened in 1750, he had prepared a vindication of it against his nume|rous adversaries.
• 80 1.110

  The university of Oxford conferred degrees on his opponents. From the indignation of Mosheim (p. 221.), we may discover the sentiments of the Lutheran divines.
• * 1.111

  Our per|plexity in defining the mira|culous pe|riod.
• 81 1.112

  It may seem somewhat remarkable, that Bernard of Clairvaux, who records so many miracles of his friend St. Malachi, never takes any notice of his own, which, in their turn, however, are carefully related by his companions and disciples. In the long series of ec|clesiastical history, does there exist a single instance of a saint assert|ing that he himself possessed the gift of miracles?
• 82 1.113

  The conversion of Constantine is the aera which is most usu|ally fixed by protestants. The more rational divines are unwilling to admit the miracles of the ivth, whilst the more credulous are un|willing to reject those of the vth century.
• * 1.114

  Use of the primitive miracles.
• * 1.115

  THE FOURTH CAUSE. Virtues of the first Christians.
• * 1.116

  Effects of their re|pentance.
• 83 1.117

  The imputations of Celsus and Julian, with the defence of the fathers, are very fairly stated by Spanheim, Commentaire sur les Cesars de Julian, p. 468.
• * 1.118

  Care of their repu|tation.
• 84 1.119

  Plin. Epist. x. 97.
• 85 1.120

  Tertullian, Apolog. c. 44. He adds, however, with some degree of hesitation, "Aut si aliud, jam non Christianus."
• 86 1.121

  The philosopher Peregrinus (of whose life and death Lucian has left us so entertaining an account) imposed, for a long time, on the credulous simplicity of the Christians of Asia.
• * 1.122

  Morality of the fa|thers.
• 87 1.123

  See a very judicious treatise of Barbeyrac sur la Morale des Peres.
• * 1.124

  Principles of human nature.
• * 1.125

  The pri|mitive Christians condemn pleasure and lux|ury.
• 88 1.126

  Lactant. Institut. Divin. l. vi. c. 20, 21, 22.
• 89 1.127

  Consult a work of Clemens of Alexandria, intitled the Paeda|gogue, which contains the rudiments of ethics, as they were taught in the most celebrated of the Christian schools.
• 90 1.128

  Tertullian, de Spectaculis, c. 23. Clemens Alexandrin. Pae|dagog. l. iii. c. 8.
• * 1.129

  Their sen|timents concerning marriage and chasti|ty.
• 91 1.130

  Beausobre, Hist. Critique du Manicheisine, l. vii. c. 3. Justin, Gregory of Nyssa, Augustin, &c. strongly inclined to this opinion.
• 92 1.131

  Some of the Gnostic heretics were more consistent; they reject|ed the use of marriage.
• 93 1.132

  See a chain of tradition, from Justin Martyr to Jerome, in the Morale des Peres; c. iv. 6—26.
• 94 1.133

  See a very curious Dissertation on the Vestals, in the Memoires de l'Academie des Inscriptions, tom. iv. p. 161—227. Notwith|standing the honours and rewards which were bestowed on those virgins, it was difficult to procure a sufficient number; nor could the dread of the most horrible death always restrain their inconti|nence.
• 95 1.134

  Cupiditatem procreandi aut unam scimus aut nullam. Minu|cius Faelix, c. 31. Justin. Apolog. Major. Athenagoras in Le|gat. c. 28. Tertullian de Cultu Foemin. l. ii.
• 96 1.135

  Eusebius, l. vi. 8. Before the fame of Origen had excited envy and persecution, this extraordinary action was rather admired than censured. As it was his general practice to allegorize scrip|ture; it seems unfortunate that, in this instance only, he should have adopted the literal sense.
• 97 1.136

  Cyprian. Epist. 4. and Dodwell Dissertat. Cyprianic. iii. Some|thing like this rash attempt was long afterwards imputed to the founder of the order of Fontevrault. Bayle has amused himself and his readers on that very delicate subject.
• 98 1.137

  Dupin (Bibliothéque Ecclesiastique, tom. i. p. 195.) gives a particular account of the dialogue of the ten virgins, as it was com|posed by Methodius, bishop of Tyre. The praises of virginity are excessive.
• 99 1.138

  The Ascetics (as early as the second century) made a public profession of mortifying their bodies, and of abstaining from the use of flesh and wine. Mosheim, p. 310.
• * 1.139

  Their a|version to the busi|ness of war and go|vernment.
• 100 1.140

  See the Morale des Peres. The same patient principles have been revived since the Reformation by the Socinians, the modern Anabaptists, and the Quakers. Barclay, the apologist of the Qua|kers, has protected his brethren, by the authority of the primitive Christians, p. 542—549.
• 101 1.141

  Tertullian, Apolog. c. 21. De Idololatriâ, c. 17, 18. Ori|gen contra Celsum, l. v. p. 253. l. vii. p. 348. l. viii. p. 423—428.
• 102 1.142

  Tertullian (de Corona Militis, c. 11.) suggests to them the expedient of deserting; a counsel, which, if it had been generally known, was not very proper to conciliate the favour of the empe|rors towards the Christian sect.
• 103 1.143

  As well as we can judge from the mutilated representation of Origen (l. viii. p. 423.), his adversary, Celsus, had urged his ob|jection with great force and candour.
• * 1.144

  THE FIFTH CAUSE. The Chris|tians ac|tive in the govern|ment of the church.
• * 1.145

  Its primi|tive free|dom and equality.
• 104 1.146

  The Aristocratical party in France, as well as in England, has strenuously maintained the divine origin of bishops. But the Calvinistical presbyters were impatient of a superior; and the Ro|man Pontiff refused to acknowledge an equal. See Fra Paolo.
• 105 1.147

  In the history of the Christian hierarchy, I have, for the most part, followed the learned and candid Mosheim.
• 106 1.148

  For the prophets of the primitive church, see Mosheim, Dis|sertationes ad Hist. Eccles. pertinentes, tom. ii. p. 132—208.
• 107 1.149

  See the epistles of St. Paul, and of Clemens, to the Corinthi|ans.
• 108 1.150

  Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, l. vii.
• * 1.151

  Institution of bishops as presi|dents of the college of presby|ters.
• 109 1.152

  See Jerome ad Titum, c. 1. and Epistol. 85. (in the Bene|dictine edition, 101.) and the elaborate apology of Blondel, pro+sententia Hieronymi. The ancient state, as it is described by Je|rome, of the bishop and presbyters of Alexandria, receives a re|markable confirmation from the patriarch Eutichius (Annal. tom. i. p. 330. Vers. Pocock); whose testimony I know not how to reject, in spite of all the objections of the learned Pearson in his Vindiciae Ignatianae, part i. c. 11.
• 110 1.153

  See the introduction to the Apocalypse. Bishops, under the name of angels, were already instituted in seven cities of Asia. And yet the epistle of Clemens (which is probably of as ancient a date) does not lead us to discover any traces of episcopacy either at Co|rinth or Rome.
• 111 1.154

  Nulla Ecclesia sine Episcopo, has been a fact as well as a maxim since the time of Tertullian and Irenaeus.
• 112 1.155

  After we have passed the difficulties of the first century, we find the episcopal government universally established, till it was in|terrupted by the republican genius of the Swiss and German re|formers.
• 113 1.156

  See Mosheim in the first and second centuries. Ignatius (ad Smyrnaeos, c. 3, &c.) is fond of exalting the episcopal dignity. Le Clerc (Hist. Eccles. p. 569.) very bluntly censures his conduct. Mosheim, with a more critical judgment (p. 161.), suspects the pu|rity even of the smaller epistles.
• 114 1.157

  Nonne et Laici sacerdotes sumus? Tertullian, Exhort. ad Castitat. c. 7. As the human heart is still the same, several of the observations which Mr. Hume has made on Enthusiasm (Essays, vol. i. p. 76, quarto edit.), may be applied even to real inspiration.
• * 1.158

  Provincial councils.
• 115 1.159

  Acta Concil. Carthag. apud Cyprian. Edit. Fell, p. 158. This council was composed of eighty-seven bishops from the pro|vinces of Mauritania, Numidia, and Africa; some presbyters and deacons assisted at the assembly; praesente plebis maximâ parte.
• * 1.160

  Union of the church.
• 116 1.161

  Aguntur praeterea per Graecias illas, certis in locis concilia, &c. Tertullian de Jejuniis, c. 13. The African mentions it as a recent and foreign institution. The coalition of the Christian churches is very ably explained by Mosheim, p. 164—170.
• * 1.162

  Progress of episcopal authority.
• 117 1.163

  Cyprian, in his admired treatise De Unitate Ecclesiae, p. 75—86.
• 118 1.164

  We may appeal to the whole tenor of Cyprian's conduct, of his doctrine, and of his Epistles. Le Clerc, in a short life of Cyprian (Bibliothéque Universelle, tom. xii. p. 207—378.), has laid him open with great freedom and accuracy.
• 119 1.165

  If Novatus, Felicissimus, &c. whom the bishop of Carthage expelled from his church, and from Africa, were not the most de|testable monsters of wickedness, the zeal of Cyprian must occasion|ally have prevailed over his veracity. For a very just account of these obscure quarrels, see Mosheim, p. 497—512.
• * 1.166

  Pre-emi|nence of the metro|politan churches.
• 120 1.167

  Mosheim, p. 269. 574. Dupin, Antiquae Eccles. Disciplin. p. 19, 20.
• 121 1.168

  Tertullian, in a distinct treatise, has pleaded against the he|retics, the right of prescription, as it was held by the apostolic churches.
• * 1.169

  Ambition of the Roman pontiff.
• 122 1.170

  The journey of St. Peter to Rome is mentioned by most of the ancients (see Eusebius, ii. 25.), maintained by all the catholics, allowed by some protestants (see Pearson and Dodwell de Success. Episcop. Roman.), but has been vigorously attacked by Spanheim (Miscellanea Sacra, iii. 3.). According to father Hardouin, the monks of the thirteenth century, who composed the Aeneid, repre|sented St. Peter under the allegorical character of the Trojan hero.
• 123 1.171

  It is in French only, that the famous allusion to St. Peter's name is exact. Tu es Pierre et sur cette pierre.—The same is im|perfect in Greek, Latin, Italian, &c. and totally unintelligible in our Teutonic languages.
• 124 1.172

  Irenaeus adv. Haereses, iii. 3. Tertullian de Praescription. c. 36, and Cyprian Epistol. 27. 55. 71. 75. Le Clerc (Hist. Ec|cles. p. 764.) and Mosheim (p. 258. 578.) labour in the interpre|tation of these passages. But the loose and rhetorical style of the fathers often appears favourable to the pretensions of Rome.
• 125 1.173

  See the sharp epistle from Firmilianus bishop of Caesarea, to Stephen bishop of Rome, ap. Cyprian. Epistol. 75.
• 126 1.174

  Concerning this dispute of the re-baptism of heretics; see the epistles of Cyprian, and the seventh book of Eusebius.
• * 1.175

  Laity and clergy.
• 127 1.176

  For the origin of these words, see Mosheim, p. 141. Span|heim, Hist. Ecclesiast. p. 633. The distinction of Clerus and Laicus was established before the time of Tertullian.
• * 1.177

  Oblations and reve|nue of the church.
• 128 1.178

  The community instituted by Plato, is more perfect than that which Sir Thomas More had imagined for his Utopia. The com|munity of women, and that of temporal goods, may be considered as inseparable parts of the same system.
• 129 1.179

  Joseph. Antiquitat. xviii. 2. Philo, de Vit. Contemplativ.
• 130 1.180

  See the Acts of the Apostles, c. 2. 4, 5. with Grotius's Commentary. Mosheim, in a particular dissertation, attacks the common opinion with very inconclusive arguments.
• 131 1.181

  Justin Martyr, Apolog. Major, c. 89. Tertullian, Apolog. c. 39.
• 132 1.182

  Irenaeus ad Haeres. l. iv. c. 27. 34. Origen in Num. Hom. ii. Cyprian de Unitat. Eccles. Constitut. Apostol. l. ii. c. 34, 35. with the notes of Cotelerius. The Constitutions introduce this di|vine precept, by declaring that priests are as much above kings, as the soul is above the body. Among the tythable articles, they enumerate corn, wine, oil, and wool. On this interesting subject, consult Prideaux's History of Tythes, and Fra-Paolo delle Materic Beneficiarie; two writers of a very different character.
• 133 1.183

  The same opinion which prevailed about the year one thou|sand, was productive of the same effects. Most of the Donations express their motive, "appropinquante mundi fine." See Mo|sheim's General History of the Church, vol. i. p. 457.
• 134 1.184

  Tum summa cura est fratribus (Ut sermo testatur loquax.) Offerre, fundis venditis Sestertiorum millia. Addicta avorum praedia Foedis sub auctionibus, Successor exheres gemit Sanctis egens Parentibus. Haec occuluntur abditis Ecclesiarum in Angulis: Et summa piet as creditur Nudare dulces liberos.

  Prudent. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Hymn. 2. The subsequent conduct of the deacon Laurence, only proves how proper a use was made of the wealth of the Roman church; it was undoubtedly very considerable; but Fra-Paolo (c. 3.) appears to exaggerate, when he supposes, that the successors of Commodus were urged to persecute the Christians by their own avarice, or that of their Praetorian praefects.
• 135 1.185

  Cyprian. Epistol. 62.
• 136 1.186

  Tertullian de Prescriptione, c. 30.
• 137 1.187

  Diocletian gave a rescript, which is only a declaration of the old law; "Collegium, si nullo speciali privilegio subnixum sit, haereditatem capere non posse, dubium non est." Fra-Paolo (c. 4.) thinks that these regulations had been much neglected since the reign of Valerian.
• 138 1.188

  Hist. August. p. 131. The ground had been public; and was now disputed between the society of Christians, and that of butchers.
• * 1.189

  Distribu|tion of the revenue.
• 139 1.190

  Constitut. Apostol. ii. 35.
• 140 1.191

  Cyprian de Lapsis, p. 89. Epistol. 65. The charge is con|firmed by the 19th and 20th canon of the council of Illiberis.
• 141 1.192

  See the apologies of Justin, Tertullian, &c.
• 142 1.193

  The wealth and liberality of the Romans to their most distant brethren, is gratefully celebrated by Dionysius of Corinth, ap. Eu|seb. l. iv. c. 23.
• 143 1.194

  See Lucian in Peregrin. Julian (Epist. 49.) seems mortified, that the Christian charity maintains not only their own, but likewise the heathen poor.
• 144 1.195

  Such, at least, has been the laudable conduct of more modern missionaries, under the same circumstances. Above three thousand new-born infants are annually exposed in the streets of Pekin. See Le Comte Memoires sur la Chine, and the Recherches sur les Chi|nois et les Egyptiens, tom. i. p. 61.
• * 1.196

  Excom|munica|tion.
• 145 1.197

  The Montanists and the Novatians, who adhered to this opi|nion with the greatest rigour and obstinacy, found themselves at last in the number of excommunicated heretics. See the learned and copious Mosheim, Secul. ii. and iii.
• 146 1.198

  Dionysius ap. Euseb. iv. 23. Cyprian, de Lapsis.
• * 1.199

  Public pe|nance.
• 147 1.200

  Cave's Primitive Christianity, part iii. c. 5. The admirers of antiquity regret the loss of this public penance.
• 148 1.201

  See in Dupin, Bibliothèque Ecclesiastique, tom. ii. p. 304—313, a short but rational exposition of the canons of those councils, which were assembled in the first moments of tranquillity, after the persecution of Diocletian. This persecution had been much less severely felt in Spain than in Galatia; a difference which may, in some measure, account for the contrast of their regulations.
• * 1.202

  The dig|nity of episcopal govern|ment.
• 149 1.203

  Cyprian. Epist. 69.
• * 1.204

  Recapitu|lation of the five causes.
• * 1.205

  Weakness of polythe|ism.
• 150 1.206

  The arts, the manners, and the vices of the priests of the Syrian goddess, are very humourously described by Apuleius, in the eighth book of his Metamorphoses.
• 151 1.207

  The office of Asiarch was of this nature, and it is frequently mentioned in Aristides, the Inscriptions, &c. It was annual and elective. None but the vainest citizens could desire the honour; none but the most wealthy could support the expence. See in the Patres Apostol. tom. ii. p. 200. with how much indifference Philip the Asiarch conducted himself in the martyrdom of Polycarp. There were likewise Bithyniarchs, Lyciarchs, &c.
• * 1.208

  The scep|ticism of the Pagan world proved fa|vourable to the new religion,
• * 1.209

  as well as the peace and union of the Ro|man em|pire.
• 152 1.210

  The modern critics are not disposed to believe what the fathers almost unanimously assert, that St. Matthew composed a Hebrew gospel, of which only the Greek translation is extant. It seems, however, dangerous to reject their testimony.
• 153 1.211

  Under the reigns of Nero and Domitian, and in the cities of Alexandria, Antioch, Rome, and Ephesus. See Mill. Prolegomena ad Nov. Testament. and Dr. Lardner's fair and extensive collection, vol. xv.
• * 1.212

  Historical view of the pro|gress of Christian|ity
• * 1.213

  in the East.
• 154 1.214

  The Alogians (Epiphanius de Haeres. 51.) disputed the ge|nuineness of the Apocalypse, because the church of Thyatira was not yet founded. Epiphanius, who allows the fact, extricates him|self from the difficulty, by ingeniously supposing, that St. John wrote in the spirit of prophecy. See Abauzit Discours sur l'Apo|calypse.
• 155 1.215

  The epistles of Ignatius and Dionysius (ap. Euseb. iv. 23.) point out many churches in Asia and Greece. That of Athens seems to have been one of the least flourishing.
• 156 1.216

  Lucian in Alexandro, c. 25. Christianity however must have been very unequally diffused over Pontus; since in the middle of the third century there were no more than seventeen believers in the extensive diocese of Neo-Caesarea. See M. de Tillemont, Memoires Ecclesiast. tom. iv. p. 675. from Basil and Gregory of Nyssa, who were themselves natives of Cappadocia.
• 157 1.217

  According to the ancients, Jesus Christ suffered under the consulship of the two Gemini, in the year 29 of our present aera. Pliny was sent into Bithynia (according to Pagi) in the year 110.
• 158 1.218

  Plin. Epist. x. 97.
• * 1.219

  The church of Antioch.
• 159 1.220

  Chrysostom. Opera, tom. vii. p. 658. 810.
• 160 1.221

  John Malela, tom. ii. p. 144. He draws the same conclusion with regard to the populousness of Antioch.
• 161 1.222

  Chrysostom. tom. i. p. 592. I am indebted for these passages, though not for my inference, to the learned Dr. Lardner. Credi|bility of the Gospel History, vol. xii. p. 370.
• * 1.223

  In Egypt.
• 162 1.224

  Basnage, Histoire des Juifs, l. 2. c. 20, 21, 22, 23. has ex|amined, with the most critical accuracy, the curious treatise of Philo, which describes the Therapeutae. By proving that it was composed as early as the time of Augustus, Basnage has demonstrated, in spite of Eusebius (l. ii. c. 17.), and a crowd of modern Catholics, that the Therapeutae were neither Christians nor monks. It still remains probable that they changed their name, preserved their manners, adopted some new articles of faith, and gradually became the fathers of the Egyptian Ascetics.
• 163 1.225

  See a letter of Hadrian, in the Augustan History, p. 245.
• 164 1.226

  For the succession of Alexandrian bishops, consult Renaudot's History, p. 24, &c. This curious fact is preserved by the patriarch Eutychius (Annal. tom. i. p. 334. Vers. Pocock), and its internal evidence would alone be a sufficient answer to all the objections which Bishop Pearson has urged in the Vindiciae Ignatianae.
• 165 1.227

  Ammian. Marcellin. xxii. 16.
• 166 1.228

  Origen contra Celsum, l. i. p. 40.
• * 1.229

  In Rome.
• 167 1.230

  Ingens multitudo is the expression of Tacitus, xv. 44.
• 168 1.231

  T. Liv. xxxix. 13. 15, 16, 17. Nothing could exceed the horror and consternation of the senate on the discovery of the Bac|chanalians, whose depravity is described, and perhaps exaggerated, by Livy.
• 169 1.232

  Eusebius, l. vi. c. 43. The Latin translator (M. de Valois) has though proper to reduce the number of presbyters to forty|four.
• 170 1.233

  This proportion of the presbyters and of the poor, to the rest of the people, was originally fixed by Burnet (Travels into Italy, p. 168), and is approved by Moyle (vol. ii. p. 151.). They were both unacquainted with the passage of Chrysostom, which converts their conjecture almost into a fact.
• * 1.234

  In Africa and the western provinces.
• 171 1.235

  Serius trans Alpes, religione Dei susceptâ. Sulpicius Severus, l. ii. These were the celebrated martyrs of Lyons. See Eusebius, v. 1. Tillemont, Mem. Ecclesiast. tom. ii. p. 316. According to the Donatists, whose assertion is confirmed by the tacit acknow|ledgment of Augustin, Africa was the last of the provinces which received the gospel. Tillemont, Mem. Ecclesiast. tom. i. p. 754.
• 172 1.236

  Tum primum intra Gallias martyria visa. Sulp. Severus, l. ii. With regard to Africa, see Tertullian ad Scapulam, c. 3. It is imagined, that the Scyllitan martyrs were the first (Acta Sin|cera Ruinart. p. 34.). One of the adversaries of Apuleius seems to have been a Christian. Apolog. p. 496, 497. Edit. Delphin.
• 173 1.237

  Rarae in aliquibus civitatibus ecclesiae, paucorum Christianorum devotione, resurgerent. Acta Sincera, p. 130. Gregory of Tours, l. i. c. 28. Mosheim, p. 207. 449. There is some reason to be|lieve, that, in the beginning of the fourth century, the extensive dio|ceses of Liege, of Treves, and of Cologne, composed a single bishop|ric, which had been very recently founded, See Memoires de Til|lemont, tom. vi. part i. p. 43. 411.
• 174 1.238

  The date of Tertullian's Apology is fixed, in a dissertation of Mosheim, to the year 198.
• 175 1.239

  In the fifteenth century, there were few who had either in|clination or courage to question whether Joseph of Arimathea found|ed the monastery of Glastenbury, and whether Dionysius the Areo|pagite preferred the residence of Paris to that of Athens.
• 176 1.240

  The stupendous metamorphosis was performed in the ninth century. See Mariana (Hist. Hispan. l. vii. c. 13. tom. i. p. 285. edit. Hag. Com. 1733.), who, in every sense, imitates Livy, and the honest detection of the legend of St. James by Dr. Geddes, Miscellanies, vol. ii. p. 221.
• * 1.241

  Beyond the limits of the Ro|man em|pire.
• 177 1.242

  Justin Martyr, Dialog. cum Tryphon. p. 341. Irenaeus adv. Haeres. l. i. c. 10. Tertullian adv. Jud. c. 7. See Mosheim, p. 203.
• 178 1.243

  See the fourth century of Mosheim's History of the Church. Many, though very confused circumstances, that relate to the con|version of Iberia and Armenia, may be found in Moses of Chorene, l. ii. c. 78—89.
• 179 1.244

  According to Tertullian, the Christian faith had penetrated into parts of Britain inaccessible to the Roman arms. About a cen|tury afterwards, Ossian, the son of Fingal, is said to have disputed, in his extreme old age, with one of the foreign missionaries, and the dispute is still extant, in verse, and in the Erse language. See Mr. Macpherson's Dissertation on the Antiquity of Ossian's Poems, p. 10.
• 180 1.245

  The Goths, who ravaged Asia in the reign of Gallienus, carried away great numbers of captives; some of whom were Christ|ians, and became missionaries. See Tillemont, Memoires Ecclesiast. tom. iv. p. 44.
• 181 1.246

  The legend of Abgarus, fabulous as it is, affords a decisive proof, that many years before Eusebius wrote his history, the great|est part of the inhabitants of Edessa had embraced Christianity. Their rivals, the citizens of Carrhae, adhered, on the contrary, to the cause of Paganism, as late as the sixth century.
• 182 1.247

  According to Bardesanes (ap. Euseb. Praepar. Evangel.) there were some Christians in Persia before the end of the second century. In the time of Constantine (see his Epistle to Sapor, Vit. l. iv. c. 13.) they composed a flourishing church. Consult Beausobre, Hist. Critique du Manicheisme, tom. i. p. 180. and the Bibliotheca Orientalis of Assemani.
• * 1.248

  General proportion of Chris|tians and Pagans.
• 183 1.249

  Origen contra Celsum, l. viii. p. 424.
• * 1.250

  Whether the first Christians were mean and igno|rant.
• 184 1.251

  Minucius Foelix, c. 8. with Wowerus's notes. Celsus ap. Origen, l. iii. p. 138. 142. Julian ap. Cyril. l. vi. p. 206. Edit. Spanheim.
• * 1.252

  Some ex|ceptions with re|gard to learning;
• 185 1.253

  Euseb. Hist. Eccles. iv. 3. Hieronym. Epist. 83.
• 186 1.254

  The story is prettily told in Justin's Dialogues. Tillemont (Mem. Ecclesiast. tom. ii. p. 334.), who relates it after him, is sure that the old man was a disguised angel.
• 187 1.255

  Eusebius, v. 28. It may be hoped, that none, except the heretics, gave occasion to the complaint of Celsus (ap. Origen, l. ii. p. 77.), that the Christians were perpetually correcting and altering their Gospels.
• * 1.256

  with re|gard to rank and fortune.
• 188 1.257

  Plin. Epist. x. 97. Fuerunt alii similis amentiae, cives Ro|mani—Multi enim omnis aetatis, omnis ordinis, utriusque sexûs, etiam vocantur in periculum et vocabuntur.
• 189 1.258

  Tertullian ad Scapulam. Yet even his rhetoric rises no higher than to claim a tenth part of Carthage.
• 190 1.259

  Cyprian. Epist. 79.
• * 1.260

  Christian|ity most favourably received by the poor and simple.
• * 1.261

  Rejected by some eminent men of the first and se|cond cen|turies.
• 191 1.262

  Dr. Lardner, in his first and second volume of Jewish and Christian testimonies, collects and illustrates those of Pliny the younger, of Tacitus, of Galen, of Marcus Antoninus, and per|haps of Epictetus (for it is doubtful whether that philosopher means to speak of the Christians). The new sect is totally unnoticed by Seneca, the elder Pliny, and Plutarch.
• * 1.263

  Their ne|glect of prophecy
• 192 1.264

  If the famous prophecy of the Seventy Weeks had been al|leged to a Roman philosopher, would he not have replied in the words of Cicero, "Quae tandem ista auguratio est, annorum potius quam aut mensium aut dierum?" De Divinatione, ii. 30. Observe with what irreverence Lucian (in Alexandro, c. 13.) and his friend Celsus ap. Origen, (l. vii. p. 327.) express themselves concerning the Hebrew prophets.
• 193 1.265

  The Philosophers, who derided the more ancient predictions of the Sybils, would easily have detected the Jewish and Christian forgeries, which have been so triumphantly quoted by the fathers from Justin Martyr to Lactantius. When the Sibylline verses had performed their appointed task, they, like the system of the millen|nium, were quietly laid aside. The Christian Sibyl had unluckily fixed the ruin of Rome for the year 195, A. U. C. 948.
• * 1.266

  and of mi|racles.
• * 1.267

  General si|lence con|cerning the darkness of the Pas|sion.
• 94 1.268

  The fathers, as they are drawn out in battle array by Dom Calmet (Dissertations sur la Bible, tom. iii. p. 295-308.), seem to cover the whole earth with darkness, in which they are followed by most of the moderns.
• 195 1.269

  Origen ad Matth. c. 27. and a few modern critics, Beza, Le Clerc, Lardner, &c. are desirous of confining it to the land of Judea.
• 196 1.270

  The celebrated passage of Phlegon is now wisely abandoned. When Tertullian assures the Pagans, that the mention of the pro|digy is found in Arcanis (not Archivis) vestris (see his Apology, c. 21.), he probably appeals to the Sibylline verses, which relate it exactly in the words of the Gospel.
• 197 1.271

  Seneca Quaest. Natur. i. 1. 15. vi. 1. vii. 17. Plin. Hist. Natur. l. ii.
• 198 1.272

  Plin. Hist. Natur. ii. 30.
• 199 1.273

  Virgil Georgic. i. 466. Tibullus, l. i. Eleg. v. ver. 75. Ovid Metamorph. xv. 782. Lucan. Pharsal. i. 540. The last of these poets places this prodigy before the civil war.
• 200 1.274

  See a public epistle of M. Antony in Joseph. Antiquit. xiv. 12. Plutarch in Caesar. p. 471. Appian, Bell. Civil. l. iv. Dion Cassius, l. xlv. p. 431. Julius Obsequens, c. 128. His little treatise is an abstract of Livy's prodigies.