I. THE GALILEAN APOSTLES. (continued 6)

HEROD AGRIPPA.

At this time, the monarch of the Roman world was Caius Caesar, commonly known by his surname, Caligula. Among the first acts of a reign, whose outset was deservedly popular for its numerous manifestations of prudence and benevolence, forming a strange contrast with subsequent tyranny and folly, was the advancement of a tried and faithful friend, to the regal honors and power which his birth entitled him to claim, and from which the neglectful indifference at first, and afterwards the revengeful spite of the preceding Caesar, Tiberius, had long excluded him. This was Herod Agrippa, grandson of that great Herod, who, by the force of his own exalted genius, and by the favor of the imperial Augustus, rose from the place of a friendless foreign adventurer, to the kingly sway of all Palestine. This extensive power he exercised in a manner which was, on the whole, ultimately advantageous to his subjects; but his whole reign, and the later years of it more particularly, were marked by cruelties the most infamous, to which he was led by almost insane fits of the most causeless jealousy. On none of the subjects of his power, did this tyrannical fury fall with such frequent and dreadful visitations, as on his own family; and it was there, that, in his alternate fits of fury and remorse, he was made the avenger of his own victims. Among these numerous domestic cruelties, one of the earliest, and the most distressing, was the murder of the amiable Mariamne, the daughter of the last remnants of the Asmonaean line,――

“Herself the solitary scion left

Of a time-honored race,”

which Herod’s remorseless policy had exterminated. Her he made his wife, and after a few years sacrificed her to some wild freak of jealousy, only to reap long years of agonizing remorse for the hasty act, when a cooler search had shown, too late, her stainless innocence. But a passionate despot never yet learned wisdom by being made to feel the recoil of his own folly; and in the course of later years this cruelty was equalled, and almost outdone, by a similar act, committed by him on those whom her memory should have saved, if anything could. The innocent and unfortunate Mariamne left him two sons, then mere children, whom the miserable, repentant tyrant, cherished and reared with an affectionate care, which might almost have seemed a partial atonement for the injuries of their murdered mother. After some years passed in obtaining a foreign education at the imperial court of Rome, these two sons, Alexander and Aristobulus, returned at their father’s summons, to his court, where their noble qualities, their eloquence and manly accomplishments, as well as the interest excited by their mother’s fate, drew on them the favorable and admiring regard of the whole people. But all that made them admirable and amiable to others, was as powerless as the memory of their mother, to save them from the fury of the suspicious tyrant. Those whose interests could be benefited by such a course, soon found means to make them objects of jealousy and terror to him, and ere long involved them in a groundless accusation of conspiring against his dominion and life. The uneasiness excited in Herod by their great popularity and their commanding talents, led him to believe this charge; and the miserable old tyrant, driven from fear to jealousy, and from jealousy to fury, at last crowned his own wretchedness and their wrongs, by strangling them both, after an imprisonment of so great a length as to take away from his crime even the shadowy excuse of hastiness. This was one of the last acts of a bloody life; but ere he died, returning tenderness towards the unfortunate race of Mariamne, led him to spare and cherish the infant children of Aristobulus, the younger of the two, who left three sons and two daughters to the tender mercies of his cruel father. One of these was the person who is concerned in the next event of Peter’s life, and whose situation and conduct in reference to that affair, was such as to justify this prolonged episode. He received in infancy the name of Agrippa, out of compliment to Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, the favorite and minister of Augustus Caesar, and the steady friend of the great Herod. This name was exclusively borne by this son of Aristobulus in childhood, nor was it ever displaced by any other, except by some of the Jews, who, out of compliment to the restoration of the Herodian line of kings, in place of the Roman sub-governors, gave him the name of his royal grandfather, so that he is mentioned only by the name of Herod in the story of the Acts of the Apostles; but the Romans and Greeks seem to have known him only by his proper name of Agrippa. The tardy repentance of his grandfather did not extend to any important permanent provision for the children of Aristobulus; but on his death a few years after, they were left with the great majority of the numerous progeny of Herod, to the precarious fortunes of dependent princes. The young Agrippa having married his own cousin, Cypros, the daughter of a daughter of Herod and Mariamne, sailed to Rome, where he remained for several years, a sort of beggar about the court of Tiberius Caesar, through whose favor he hoped for an advancement to some one of the thrones in Palestine, which seemed to be prizes for any of Herod’s numerous descendents who could best secure the imperial favor, and depress the possessors in the Caesar’s opinion. Passing at Rome and elsewhere through a romantic variety of fortune, this adventurer was at last lucky in securing to himself the most friendly regard of Caius Caesar, then the expected successor of the reigning emperor. This afterwards proved the basis of his fortunes, which for a while, however, were darkened by the consequences of an imprudent remark made to Caius, expressive of a wish for the death of Tiberias, which was reported to the jealous tyrant by a listening slave, and finally caused the speaker’s close imprisonment during the rest of the emperor’s life. The death of Tiberius, followed by the accession of Caius Caesar to the throne, raised Agrippa from his chains to freedom, and to the most intimate favor of the new monarch. The tetrarchy of Iturea and Trachonitis, then vacant by the death of Philip, was immediately conferred on him; and soon after, Herod Antipas having been exiled, his territories, Galilee and Peraea, were added to the former dominions of Herod Agrippa, and with them was granted to him the title of king, which had never yet been given to any of the descendents of Herod the Great. In this state were the governments of these countries at the time of the events last narrated; but Herod Agrippa, often visiting Rome, left all Palestine in the hands of Publius Petronius, the just and benevolent Roman president of Syria. In this state, affairs remained during all the short reign of Caius Caligula Caesar, who, after four years mostly characterized by folly, vice and cruelty, ended his days by the daggers of assassins. But this great event proved no check to the flourishing fortunes of his favorite, king Herod Agrippa; who, in the course of the events which ended in placing Claudius on the throne, so distinguished himself in the preliminary negociations between the new emperor and the senate, sharing as he did the confidence and regard of both parties, that he was justly considered by all, as the most active means of effecting the comfortable settlement of their difficulties; and he was therefore deemed well deserving of the highest rewards. Accordingly, the first act of Claudius’s government, like the first of Caligula’s, was the presentation of a new kingdom to this favorite of fortune,――Judea being now added to the other countries in his possession, and thus bringing all Palestine into one noble kingdom, beneath his extensive sway. With a dominion comprising all that the policy of his grandfather had been able to attain during a long and active life, he now found himself, at the age of fifty-one, one of the most extraordinary instances of romantic fortune that had ever occurred; and anxious to enjoy something of the solid pleasure of visiting and governing his great and flourishing kingdom, he set sail from Rome, which had been so long to him the scene of such varied fortune, such calamitous poverty and tedious imprisonment,――and now proceeded as the proud king of Palestine, going home in triumph to the throne of his ancestor, supported by the most boundless pledges of imperial favor. The emperor Claudius, though regretting exceedingly the departure of the tried friend whom he had so much reason to love and cherish, yet would not detain him from a happiness so noble and desirable, as that of arranging and ruling his consolidated dominion. Even his departure, however, was made the occasion of new marks of imperial favor; for Claudius gave him letters by which all Roman governors were bound to acknowledge and support him as the rightful sovereign of Palestine. He arrived in Palestine shortly after, and just before the passover, made his appearance in Jerusalem, where he was received with joy and hope by the expecting people, who hailed with open hearts a king whose interests would be identified with theirs, and with the glory of the Jewish name. His high and royal race,――his own personal misfortunes and the unhappy fate of his early-murdered father, as well as his descent from the lamented Mariamne,――his well-known amiability of character, and his regard for the holy Jewish faith, which he had shown by exerting and even risking all his favor with Caligula to prevent, in co-operation with the amiable Petronius, the profanation of the temple as proposed by the erection of the emperor’s statue within it,――all served to throw a most attractive interest around him, and to excite brilliant hopes, which his first acts immediately more than justified. The temple, though now so resplendent with the highest ♦achievements of art, and though so vast in its foundations and dimensions, was still considered as having some deficiencies, so great, that nothing but royal munificence could supply them. The Jews therefore seized the fortunate occasion of the accession of their new and amiable monarch to his throne, to obtain the perfection of a work on which the hearts of the people were so much set, and the completion of which would so highly advance the monarch in the popular favor. The king at once benignantly heard their request, and gladly availing himself of this opportunity to gratify his subjects, and secure a regard from them which might some day be an advantage to him, immediately ordered the great work to proceed at his expense. The satisfaction of the people and the Sanhedrim was now at the highest pitch; and, ♠emboldened by these displays of royal favor, some of the sage plotters among them hoped to obtain from him a favorable hearing on a matter which they deemed of still deeper importance to their religion, and in which his support was equally indispensable. This matter brings back the forsaken narrative to consideration.

Herod Agrippa.――All the interesting details of this richly romantic life, are given in a most delightful style by Josephus. (Antiquities, XVIII. v. 3,‒viii. 9. and XIX. i‒ix.) The same is more concisely given by the same author in another place. (Jewish War, II. ix. 5,‒xi. 6.) The prominent events of Petronius’s administration, are also given in the former.

THE PEACEFUL PROGRESS OF THE FAITH.

The apostles, after the great events last narrated, gave themselves with new zeal to the work which was now so vastly extended by the opening of the wide field of the Gentiles. Others of the refugees from the popular rage, at the time of Stephen’s murder, had gone even beyond the boundaries of Palestine, bringing into the sphere of apostolic operations a great number of interesting subjects, before unthought of. Some of the bold, free workers, who had heard of the late changes in the views of the apostles, respecting the characters of those for whom the gospel was designed, now no longer limited their efforts of love to the children of the stock of Abraham, but proclaimed the faith of Jesus to those who had before never heard his name. The gospel was thus carried into Syria and Cyprus, and thence rapidly spread into many other countries, where Macedonian conquest and Hellenic colonization had made the Greek the language of cities, courts, commerce, and, to a great extent, of literature. The great city of Antioch soon became a sort of metropolis of the numerous churches, which sprang up in that region, beyond the immediate reach of Jerusalem, now the common home of the apostles, and the center of the Christian, as of the Jewish faith. Grecians as well as Jews, in this new march of the gospel, were made sharers in its blessings; and the multiplication of converts among them was so rapid as to give a new importance, at once, to this sort of Christians. The communication of these events to the apostles at Jerusalem, called for some systematic action on their part, to confirm and complete the good work thus begun by the random and occasional efforts of mere wandering fugitives from persecution. They accordingly selected persons especially fitted for this field of labor, and despatched them to Antioch, to fulfil the duties imposed on the apostles in ♦reference to this new opening. The details of the operations of these new laborers, will be given in their lives hereafter.

In performing the various offices required in their domestic and foreign fields of labor, now daily multiplying, Peter and his associates had continued for several years steadily occupied, but achieving no particular action that has received notice in the history of their acts; so that the most of this part of their lives remains a blank to the modern investigator. All that is known is, that between the churches of Syria and Palestine there was established a frequent friendly intercourse, more particularly between the metropolitan churches of Jerusalem and Antioch. From the former went forth preachers to instruct and confirm the new and untaught converts of the latter, who had been so lately strangers to God’s covenant of promise with his people; while from the thriving and benevolent disciples of Antioch were sent back, in grateful recompense, the free offerings of such aid as the prevalence of a general dearth made necessary for the support of their poor and friendless brethren in Jerusalem; and the very men who had been first sent to Antioch with the commission to build up and strengthen that infant church, now returned to the mother church at Jerusalem, with the generous relief which gratitude prompted these new sons to render to the authors of their faith.

ROMAN TOLERANCE.

These events and the occasion of them occurred in the reign of Claudius Caesar, as Luke particularly records,――thus marking the lapse of time during the unregistered period of the apostolic acts; which is also confirmed by the circumstances of Herod Agrippa’s reign, mentioned immediately after, as occurring “about that time;” for, as has been specified above, Herod Agrippa did not rule Judea till the reign of Claudius. The crucifixion of Jesus occurred three years before the death of Tiberius; and as the whole four years of the reign of Caligula was passed over in this space, it could not have been less than ten years after the crucifixion, when these events took place. This calculation allows time for such an advance of the apostolic enterprise, as would, under their devoted energy, make the sect most formidable to those who regarded its success as likely to shake the security of the established order of religious things, by impairing the popular reverence for the regularly constituted heads of Judaism. Such had been its progress, and such was the impression made by its advance. There could no longer be any doubt as to the prospect of its final ascendency, if it was quietly left to prosper under the steady and devoted labors of its apostles, with all the advantages of the re-action which had taken place from the former cruel persecution which they had suffered. For several years the government of Palestine had been in such hands that the Sanhedrim had few advantages for securing the aid of the secular power, in consummating their exterminating plans against the growing heresy. Not long after the time of Pilate, the government of Judea had been committed by the emperor to Publius Petronius, the president of Syria, a man who, on the valuable testimony of Josephus, appears to have been of the most amiable and upright character,――wholly devoted to the promotion of the real interests of the people whom he ruled. On several occasions, he distinguished himself by his tenderness towards the peculiarly delicate religious feelings of the Jews, and once even risked and incurred the wrath of the vindictive Caligula, by disobeying his commands to profane the temple at Jerusalem by the erection of that emperor’s statue within its holy courts,――a violation of the purity of the place which had been suggested to his tyrannical caprice by the spiteful hint of Apion, of Alexandria. But though Petronius, in this matter, showed a disposition to incur every hazard to spare the national and devotional feelings of the Jews so awful an infliction, there is nothing in his conduct which would lead us to suppose that he would sacrifice justice to the gratification of the persecuting malice of the Jews, any more than to the imperious tyranny of Caligula. The fairest conclusion from the events of his administration, is, that he regulated his behavior uniformly by his own sense of justice, with hardly any reference to the wild impulses, either of popular or imperial tyranny. A noble personification of independent and invincible justice; but one not beyond the range of the moral conceptions of a Roman, even under the corrupt and corrupting rule of the Caesars;――for thus wrote the great moral poet of the Augustan age, though breathing the enervating air of a servile court, and living on the favor of a monarch who exacted from his courtiers a reverence truly idolatrous:

Justum et tenacem propositi virum,

Non civium ardor prava jubentium,

Non vultus instantis tyranni

Mente quatit solida. * * *

The moral energy of the Roman character made the exemplifications of this fair ideal not uncommon, even in these latter days of Roman glory. There were some like Petronius, who gave life and reality to this poetical conception of Horace,――“A man just and resolute, unshaken from his firm purpose alike by the wild impulses of popular rage, and by the frown of an overbearing tyrant.” And these were among the chief blessings of the Roman sway, to those lands in which it ruled,――that the great interests of the country were not subjected to the blind movements of a perverse public opinion, changing with each year, and frustrating every good which required a steady policy for its accomplishment,――that the majority of the people were not allowed to tyrannize over the minority, nor the minority over the majority;――and that a mighty power amenable to neither, but whose interest and glory would always coincide with the good of the whole, held over all a dominion unchecked by the demands of popular caprice. But, alas! for the imperfections of all human systems;――among the curses of that Roman sway, must be numbered its liability to fall from the hands of the wise and amiable, into those of the stupid and brutal; changes which but too often occurred,――overturning, by the mismanagement of a moment, the results of years of benevolent and prudent policy. And in this very case, all the benefits of Petronius’s equitable and considerate rule, were utterly neutralized and annihilated by the foolishness or brutality of his successors, till the provoked irritability of the nation at last broke out with a fierceness that for a time overcame the securities even of Roman dominion, and was finally quieted only in the utter ruin of the whole Jewish nation. But during the period of several years following the exit of Pilate, its beneficial energy was felt in the quiet tolerance of religious opinion, which he enforced on all, and which was most highly advantageous to the progress of the doctrine of Christ. To this circumstance may justly be referred that remarkable repose enjoyed by the apostles and their followers from all the interference with their labors by the Roman government. The death of Jesus Christ himself, indeed, was the only act in which the civil power had interfered at all! for the murder of Stephen was a mere freak of mob-violence, a mere Lynch-law proceeding, which the Roman governor would not have sanctioned, if it had been brought under his cognizance,――being done as it was, so directly in the face of those principles of religious tolerance which the policy of the empire enforced every where, excepting cases in which sedition and rebellion against their dominion was combined with religious zealotism, like the instances of the Gaulanitish Judas, Theudas, and others. Even Jesus himself, was thus accused by the Jews, and was condemned by Pilate for his alleged endeavors to excite a revolt against Caesar, and opposing the payment of the Roman taxes,――as is shown by the statement of all the evangelists, and more particularly by Pilate’s inscription on the cross. The persecution which followed the murder of Stephen was not carried on under the sanction of the Roman government, nor yet was it against their authority; for they permitted to the Sanhedrim the punishment of most minor offences, so long as they did not go beyond imprisonment, scourging, banishment, &c. But the punishment of death was entirely reserved to the civil and military power; and if the Jewish magnates had ever formally transgressed this limitation, they would have been instantly punished for it, as a treasonable assumption of that supreme power which their conquerors were determined to guard with the most watchful jealousy. The Sanhedrim, being thus restricted in their means of vengeance, were driven to the low expedient of stirring up the lawless mob to the execution of these deeds of desperate violence, which their religious rulers could wink at, and yet were prepared to disown, when questioned by the Romans, as mere popular ferments, over which they had no control whatever. So they managed with Stephen; for his murder was no doubt preconcerted among the chief men, who caused the formal preamble of a trial, with the design of provoking the mob, in some way, to this act; in which scheme they were too much favored by the fiery spirit of the martyr himself, who had not patience enough with their bigotry, to conceal his abhorrence of it. Their subsequent systematic and avowed acts of violence, it should be observed, were all kept strictly within the well-defined limits of their penal jurisdiction; for there is no evidence whatever that any of the persecuted Hellenists ever suffered death by the condemnation of the Sanhedrim, or by the sentence of a Roman tribunal. The progress of these events, however, showed that this irritating and harassing system of whippings, imprisonments and banishments, had a tendency rather to excite the energies of these devoted heretics, than to check or crush their spirit of innovation and denunciation. Among the numerous instances of malignant assault on the personal rights of these sufferers, and the cruel violation of the delicacy due to the weaker sex, there must have been, also, many occasions in which the ever-varying feelings of the public would be moved to deep sympathy with sufferers who bore, so steadily and heroically, punishments manifestly disproportioned to the offense with which they were charged,――a sympathy which might finally rise to a high and resistless indignation against their remorseless oppressors. It is probable, therefore, that this persecution was at last allayed by other causes than the mere defection of its most zealous agent. The conviction must have been forced on the minds of the persecutors, that this system, with all its paltry and vexatious details, must be given up, or exchanged for one whose operations should be so vast and sweeping in its desolating vengeance, as to overawe and appal, rather than awaken zeal in the objects of the punishment, or sympathy in the beholders. The latter alternative, however, was too hopeless, under the steady, benignant sway of Petronius, to be calculated upon, until a change should take place which should give the country a ruler of less independent and scrupulous character, and more disposed to sacrifice his own moral sense to the attainment of favor with the most important subjects of his government. Until that desirable end should be attained, in the course of the frequent changes of the imperial succession, it seemed best to let matters take their own course; and they accordingly dropped all active proceedings, leaving the new sect to progress as it might, with the impulse gained from the re-action consequent on this late unfortunate excitement against it. But they still kept a watchful eye on their proceedings, though with hands for a while powerless; and treasured up accumulating vengeance through tedious years, for the day when the progress of political changes should bring the secular power beneath their influence, and make it subservient to their purpose of dreadful retribution. That day had now fully come.

PETER’S THREATENED MARTYRDOM.

The long expected favorite and friend of the Jewish people, having been thus hailed sovereign by their grateful voices, and having strengthened his throne and influence by his opening acts of liberality and devotion to the national faith, now entered upon a reign which presented only the portents of a course most auspicious to his own fame and his people’s good. Uniting in his person the claims of the Herodian and Asmonaean lines,――with the blood of the heroic Maccabees in his veins,――crowned by the imperial lord of the civilized world, whose boundless power was pledged in his support, by the obligations of an intimate personal friendship, and of a sincere gratitude for the attainment of the throne of the Caesars through his prompt and steady exertions,――received with universal joy and hope by all the dwellers of the consolidated kingdoms of his dominion, which had been long thriving under the mild and equitable administration of a prudent governor,――there seemed nothing wanting to complete the happy auspices of a glorious reign, under which the ancient honors of Israel should be more than retrieved from the decline of ages. Yet what avails the bright array of happily conspiring circumstances, to prince or people, against the awful majesty of divine truth, or the pure, simple energy of human devotion? Within the obscurer corners of his vast territories, creeping for room under the outermost colonnades of that mighty temple whose glories he had pledged himself to renew,――wandering like outcasts from place to place,――seeking supporters only among the unintellectual mass of the people,――were a set of men of whom he probably had not heard until he entered his own dominions. They were now suggested to his notice for the first time, by the decided voice of censure from the devout and learned guardians of the purity of the law of God, who invoked the aid of his sovran power, to check and utterly uproot this heresy, which the unseasonable tolerance of Roman government had too long shielded from the just visitations of judicial vengeance. Nor did the royal Agrippa hesitate to gratify, in this slight and reasonable matter, the express wishes of the reverend heads of the Jewish faith and law. Ah! how little did he think, that in that trifling movement was bound up the destiny of ages, and that its results would send his name――though then so loved and honored――like Pharaoh’s, down to all time, a theme of religious horror and holy hatred, to the unnumbered millions of a thousand races, and lands then unknown;――an awful doom, from which one act of benign protection, or of prudent kindness, to that feeble band of hated, outcast innovators, might have retrieved his fame, and canonized it in the faithful memory of the just, till the glory of the old patriarchs and prophets should grow dim. But, without one thought of consequences, a prophetic revelation of which would so have appalled him, he unhesitatingly stretched out his arm in vindictive cruelty over the church of Christ, for the gratification of those whose praise was to him more than the favor of God. Singling out first the person whom momentary circumstances might render most prominent or obnoxious to censure, he at once doomed to a bloody death the elder son of Zebedee, the second of the great apostolic THREE. No sooner was this cruel sentence executed, than, with a most remarkable steadiness in the execution of his bloody plan, he followed up this action, so pleasing to the Jews, by another similar movement. Peter, the active leader of the heretical host, ever foremost in braving the authority of the constituted teachers of the law, and in exciting commotion and dissatisfaction among the commonalty, was now seized by a military force, too strong to fear any resistance from popular movements, which had so much deterred the Sanhedrim. This occurred during the week of the passover; and such was king Agrippa’s profound regard for all things connected with his national religion, that he would not violate the sanctity of this holy festival by the execution of a criminal, however deserving of vengeance he might seem in that instance. The fate of Peter being thus delayed, he was therefore committed to prison, (probably in castle Antonia,) and to prevent all possibility of his finding means to escape prepared ruin again, he was confined to the charge of sixteen Roman soldiers, divided into four sets, of four men each, who were to keep him under constant supervision day and night, by taking turns, each set an equal time; and according to the established principles of the Roman military discipline, with the perfect understanding that if, on the conclusion of the passover, the prisoner was not forthcoming, the guards should answer the failure with their lives. These decided and careful arrangements being made, the king, with his gratified friends in the Sanhedrim and among the rabble, gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the great national festival, with a peculiar zest, hightened by the near prospect of the utter overthrow of the advancing heresy, by the sweeping blow that robbed them of their two great leaders, and more especially of him who had been so active in mischievous attempts to perpetuate the memory of the original founder of the sect, and to frustrate the good effect of his bloody execution, by giving out that the crucified Jesus still lived, and would yet come in vengeance on his murderers. While such triumphant reflections swelled the festal enjoyments of the powerful foes of Christ, the unhappy company of his persecuted disciples passed through this anniversary-week with the most mournful reminiscences and anticipations. Ten years before, in unutterable agony and despair, they had parted, as they then supposed forever, with their beloved Lord; and now, after years of devotion to the work for which he had commissioned them, they were called to renew the deep sorrows of that parting, in the removal of those who had been foremost among them in the great work, cheering them and leading them on through toil and peril, with a spirit truly holy, and with a fearless energy, kindred with that of their divine Lord. Of these two divinely appointed chiefs, one had already poured out his blood beneath the executioner’s sword, and the other, their great leader, the Rock of the church, was now only waiting the speedy close of the festal week, to crown his glorious course, and his enemies’ cruel policy, by the same bloody doom; meanwhile held in the safe keeping of an ever-watchful Roman guard, forbidding even the wildest hope of escape. Yet why should they wholly despair? On that passover, ten years before, how far more gloomy and hopeless the glance they threw on the cross of their Lord! Yet from that doubly hopeless darkness, what glorious light sprang up to them? And was the hand that then broke through the bands of death and the gates of Hades, now so shortened that it could not sever the vile chains of paltry tyranny which confined this faithful apostle, nor open wide the guarded gates of his castle prison? Surely there was still hope for faith which had been taught such lessons of undoubting trust in God. Nor were they thoughtless of the firm support and high consolations which their experience afforded. In prayer intense and unceasing, they poured out their souls in sympathetic grief and supplication, for the relief of their great elder brother from his deadly peril; and in sorrowful entreaty the whole church continued day and night, for the safety of Peter.

Castle Antonia.――For Josephus’s account of the position and erection of this work, see my note on page 95, (section 8.) There has been much speculation about the place of the prison to which Peter was committed. The sacred text (Acts xii. 10,) makes it plain that it was without the city itself, since after leaving the prison it was still necessary to enter the city by “the iron gate.” Walch, Kuinoel and Bloomfield adopt the view that it was in one of the towers or castles that fortified the walls. Wolf and others object to the view that it was without the walls; because, as Wolf says, it was not customary to have public prisons outside of the cities, since the prisoners might in that case be sometimes rescued by a bold assault from some hardy band of comrades, &c. But this objection is worth nothing against castle Antonia, which, though it stood entirely separated from the rest of the city, was vastly strong, and by its position as well as fortification, impregnable to any common force;――a circumstance which would at once suggest and recommend it as a secure place for one who, like Peter, had escaped once from the common prison. There was always a Roman garrison in Antonia. (Josephus, Jewish War, V. v. 8.)

In the steady contemplation of the nearness of his bloody doom, the great apostle remained throughout the passover, shut off from all the consolations of fraternal sympathy, and awaiting the end of the few hours which were still allotted by the religious scruples of his mighty sovran. In his high and towering prison in Castle Antonia, parted only by a deep, broad rift in the precipitous rocks, from the great terraces of the temple itself, from whose thronged courts now rung the thanksgiving songs of a rejoicing nation, he heard them, sending up in thousands of voices the praise of their fathers’ God, who still remembered Israel in mercy, renewing their ancient glories under the bright and peaceful dominion of their new-crowned king. And with the anthems of praise to God which sounded along the courts and porches of the temple, were no doubt heard, too, the thanks of many a grateful Hebrew for the goodness of the generous king, who had pledged his royal word to complete the noble plan of that holy pile, as suited the splendid conceptions of the founder. And this was the king whose decree had doomed that lonely and desolate prisoner in the castle, to a bloody and shameful death,――as a crowning offering at the close of the great festival; and how few among that vast throng, before whose eyes he was to yield his life, would repine at the sentence that dealt exterminating vengeance on the obstinately heretical preacher of the crucified Nazarene’s faith! Well might such dark visions of threatening ruin appal a heart whose enthusiasm had caught its flame from the unholy fires of worldly ambition, or devoted its energies to the low purpose of human ascendency. And truly sad would have been the lonely thoughts of this very apostle, if this doom had found him in the spirit which first moved him to devote himself to the cause which now required the sacrifice of life. But higher hopes and feelings had inspired his devoted exertions for ten years, and higher far, the consolations which now sustained him in his friendless desolation. This very fate, he had long been accustomed to regard as the earthly meed of his labors; and he had too often been threatened with it, to be overwhelmed by its near prospect. Vain, then, were all solemn details of that awful sentence, to strike terror into his fixed soul,――vain the dark sureties of the high, steep rock, the massive, lofty walls, the iron gates, the ever-watchful Roman guards, the fetters and manacles, to control or check the

“Eternal spirit of the chainless mind!――

Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,

For there thy habitation is the heart.”

Thus sublimely calm, sat Peter in his prison, waiting for death. Day after day, all day long, the joyous feast went on beneath him:――the offering, the prayer and the hymn varying the mighty course, from the earliest morning supplication to the great evening sacrifice. Up rolled the glorious symphony of the Levites’ thousand horns, and the choral harmony of their chanting voices,――up rolled the clouds of precious incense to the skiey throne of Israel’s God,――and with this music and fragrance, up rolled the prayers of Israel’s worshiping children; but though the glorious sound and odor fell delightfully on the senses of the lonely captive, as they passed upwards by his high prison-tower, no voice of mercy came from below, to cheer him in his desolation. But from above, from the heaven to which all these prayer-bearing floods of incense and harmony ascended, came down divine consolation and miraculous delivery to this poor, despised prisoner, with a power and a witness that not all the solemn pomp of the passover ceremony could summon in reply to its costly offerings. The feeble band of sorrowing Nazarenes, from their little chamber, were lifting unceasing voices of supplication for their brother, in his desperate prospects, which entered with his solitary prayer into the ears of the God of Hosts, while the ostentatious worship of king Agrippa and his reverend supporters, only brought back shame and woful ruin on their impious supplications for the divine sanction to their bloody plans of persecution. At last the solemn passover-rites of “the last great day of the feast” were ended;――the sacrifice, the incense and the song, rose no more from the sanctuary,――the fires on the altars went out, the hum and the roar of worshiping voices was hushed, and the departing throngs poured through the “ETERNAL” and the “BEAUTIFUL” gates, till at last the courts and porches of the temple were empty through all their vast extent, and hushed in a silence, deep as the ruinous oblivion to which the voice of their God had doomed them shortly to pass; and all was still, save where the footfall of the passing priest echoed along the empty colonnades, as he hurried over the vast pavements into the dormitories of the inner temple; or where the mighty gates thundered awfully as they swung heavily together under the strong hands of the weary Levites, and sent their long reverberations among the walls. Even these closing sounds soon ceased also; the Levite watchmen took their stand on the towers of the temple, and paced their nightly rounds along the flat roofs, guarding with careful eyes their holy shrine, lest the impious should, under cover of night, again profane it, (as the Samaritans had secretly done a few years before.) And on the neighboring castle of Antonia, the Roman garrison, too, had set their nightly watch, and the iron warriors slumbered, each in his turn, till the round of duty should summon him to relieve guard. Within the dungeon keep of the castle, was still safely held the weighty trust that was to be answered for, on peril of life; and all arrangements were made which so great a responsibility seemed to require. The prisoner already somewhat notorious for making unaccountable escapes from guarded dungeons, was secured with a particularity, quite complimentary to his dexterity as a jail-breaker. The quaternion on duty was divided into two portions; each half being so disposed and posted as to effect the most complete supervision of which the place was capable,――two men keeping watch outside of the well-bolted door of the cell, and two within, who, not limited to the charge of merely keeping their eyes on the prisoner, had him fastened to their bodies, by a chain on each side. In this neighborly proximity to his rough companions, Peter was in the habit of passing the night; but in the day-time was freed from one of these chains, remaining attached to only one soldier. (This arrangement was in accordance with the standard mode of guarding important state-prisoners among the Romans.) Matters being thus accommodated, and the watch being set for the next three hours, Peter’s two fast companions, finding him but indifferent company, no doubt, notwithstanding his sociable position, soon grew quite dull in the very tame employment of seeing that he did not run away with them; for as to getting away from them, the idea could have no place at all in the supposition. These sturdy old veterans had probably, though Gentiles, conformed so far to Judaical rituals as to share in the comfortable festivities of this great religious occasion, and could not have suffered any heathenish prejudices to prevent them from a hearty participation in the joyous draughts of the wine, which as usual did its part to enliven the hearts and countenances of all those who passed the feast-day in Jerusalem. The passover coming so many months after the vintage too, the fermentation of a long season must have considerably energized “the pure juice of the grape,” so that its exhilarant and narcotic powers could have been by no means feeble; and if the change thus wrought by time and its own inherent powers, at all corresponds to that which takes places in cider in this country under the same circumstances, the latter power must have so far predominated, as to leave them rather below than above the ordinary standard of vivacity, and induce that sort of apathetic indifference to consequences, which is far from appropriate in a soldier on duty over an important trust. Be that as it may, Peter’s two room-mates soon gave themselves quietly up to slumber. If any scruple arose in their heavy heads as to the risk they ran in case of his escape, that was soon soothed by the consideration of the vast number of impassable securities upon the prisoner. They might well reason with themselves, “If this sharp Galilean can manage to break his chains without waking us, and burst open this stout door in spite of bars, without rousing the sentinels who are posted against it on the outside, and make his way unseen and unchecked through all the gates and guards of Castle Antonia――why, let him. But there’s no use in our losing a night’s rest by any uneasiness about such a chance.” So stretching themselves out, they soon fell into a sound sleep, none the less pleasant for their lying in such close quarters; for it is natural to imagine, that in a chilly March night in Jerusalem, stowing three in a bed was no uncomfortable arrangement. Circumstanced as he was, Peter had nothing to do but conform to their example, for the nature of his attachment to them was such, that he had no room for the indulgence of his own fancies about his position; and he also lay down to repose. He slept. The sickening and feverish confinement of his close dungeon had not yet so broken his firm and vigorous frame, nor so drained its energies, as to hinder the placid enjoyment of repose; nor did the certainty of a cruel and shameful death, to which he was within a few hours to be dragged, before the eyes of a scoffing rabble, move his high spirit from its self-possession:――

“And still he slumbered

While in ‘decree, his hours’ were numbered.”

He slept. And from that dark prison-bed what visions could beguile his slumbering thoughts? Did fancy bear them back against the tide of time, to the humble, peaceful home of his early days,――to the varied scenes of the lake whereon he loved to dwell, and along whose changeful waters he had learned so many lessons of immortal faith and untrembling hope in his Lord? Amid the stormy roar of its dark waters, the voice of that Lord once called him to tempt the raging deep with his steady foot, and when his feeble faith, before untried, failed him in the terrors of the effort, His supporting hand recalled him to strength and safety. And had that lesson of faith and hope been so poorly learned, that in this dark hour he could draw no consolation from such remembrances? No. He could even now find that consolation, and he did. In the midst of this “sea of troubles,” he felt the same mighty arm now upholding him, that bore him above the waters, “when the blue wave rolled nightly on deep Galilee.” Again he had stood by those waters, swelling brightly in the fresh morning breeze, with his risen Lord beside him, and received the solemn commission, oft-renewed, to feed the flock that was so soon to lose the earthly presence of its great Shepherd. In the steady and dauntless execution of that parting commission, he had in the course of long years gone on in the face of death,――“feeding the lambs” of Christ’s gathering, and calling vast numbers to the fold; and for the faithful adherence to that command, he now sat waiting the fulfilment of the doom that was to cut him down in the midst of life and in the fullness of his vigor. Yet the nearness of this sad reward of his labors, seemingly offering so dreadful an interpretation of the mystical prophecy that accompanied that charge, moved him to no desperation or distress, and still he calmly slept, with as little agitation and dread as at the transfiguration, and at the agony of the crucifixion eve; nor did that compunction for heedless inattention, that then hung upon his slumbering senses, now disturb him in the least. It is really worth noticing, in justice to Peter, that his sleepiness, of which so many curious instances are presented in the sacred narrative, was not of the criminally selfish kind that might be supposed on a partial view. If he slept during his Master’s prayers on Mount Hermon, and in Gethsemane, he slept too in his own condemned cell; and if in his bodily infirmity he had forgotten to watch and pray when death threatened his Lord, he was now equally indifferent to his own impending destruction. He was, evidently, a man of independent and regular habits. Brought up a hard-working man, he had all his life been accustomed to repose whenever he was at leisure, if he needed it; and now too, though the “heathen might rage, and the people imagine a vain thing,――though the kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers took counsel together” against him, and doomed him to a cruel death,――in spite of all these, Peter would sleep when he was sleepy. Not the royal Agrippa could sleep sounder on his pavilioned couch of purple. In the calm confidence of one steadily fixed in a high course, and perfectly prepared for every and any result, the chained apostle gave himself coolly to his natural rest, without borrowing any trouble from the thought, that in the morning the bloody sword was to lay him in “the sleep that knows no earthly waking.” So slept the Athenian sage, on the eve of his martyrdom to the cause of clearly and boldly spoken truth,――a sleep that so moved the wonder of his agonizing disciples, at the power of a good conscience and a practical philosophy to sustain the soul against the horrors of such distress; but a sleep not sounder nor sweeter than that of the poor Galilean outcast, who, though not knowing even the name of philosophy, had a consolation far higher, in the faith that his martyred Lord had taught him in so many experimental instructions. That faith, learned by the painful conviction of his own weakness, and implanted in him by many a fall when over confident in his own strength, was now his stay and comfort, so that he might say to his soul, “Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him, who is the help of my countenance and my God.” Nor did that hope prove groundless. From him in whom he trusted, came a messenger of deliverance; and from the depths of a danger the most appalling and threatening, he was soon brought, to serve that helping-God through many faithful years, feeding the flock till, in his old age, “another should gird him, and carry him whither he would not.” He who had prayed for him in the revelation of his peculiar glories on Mount Hermon, and had so highly consecrated him to the great cause, had yet greater things for him to do; and to new works of love and glory he now called him, from the castle-prison of his royal persecutor.

Ten years.――This piece of chronology is thus settled. Jesus Christ, according to all common calculation, was crucified as early as the twentieth year of the reign of Tiberius. Irenaeus maintains that it was in the fifteenth of that reign. Eusebius and Epiphanius fix it in the eighteenth, or, according to Petavius’s explanation of their meaning, in the seventeenth of his actual reign. Tertullian, Julius Africanus, Jerome, and Augustin, put it in the sixteenth. Roger Bacon, Paulus Burgensis, and Tostatus, also support this date, on the ground of an astronomical calculation of the course of the moon, fixing the time when the passover must have occurred, so as to accord with the requirement of the Mosaic law, that it should be celebrated on a new moon. But Kepler has abundantly shown the fallacy of this calculation. Antony Pagus, also, though rejecting this astronomical basis, adheres to the opinion of Tertullian, Jerome, &c. Baronius fixes it in the nineteenth of Tiberius. Pearson, L. Cappel, Spanheim, and Witsius, with the majority of the moderns, in the twentieth of Tiberius. So that the unanimous result of all these great authorities, places it as early as this last mentioned year. A full and highly satisfactory view of all these chronological points and opinions, is given by the deeply learned Antony Pagus, in his great “Critical Historico-Chronological Review of Baronii.” Saecul. I. Ann. Per. Gr.‒Rom. 5525. ¶ 3‒13.

Now, from Josephus it is perfectly evident that Agrippa did not leave Rome until some time after the beginning of the reign of Claudius, and it is probable not before the close of the first year. Counting backwards through the four years of Caligula, this makes five years after the death of Tiberius, and eight on the latest calculation from the death of Christ; while according to the higher and earlier authority, it amounts to nine, ten, eleven, or to twelve years from the crucifixion to Agrippa’s arrival in Judea. And moreover, it is not probable that the persecution referred to occurred immediately on his arrival. Indeed, from the close way in which Luke connects Agrippa’s death with the preceding events, it would seem as if he would fix his “going down from Jerusalem to Caesarea,” and his death at the latter place, very soon after the escape of Peter. This of course being in the end of Claudius’s third year, brings the events above, down to the eleventh or twelfth from the crucifixion, even according to the latest conjecture as to the date of that event. Probably, however, the connection of the two events was not as close as a common reading of the Acts would lead one to suppose.

So also Lardner, in his Life of Peter, says, “The death of Herod Agrippa happened before the end of that year,” in which he escaped. (Lardner’s Works 4to. Vol. III. p. 402, bottom.)

Natalis Alexander fixes Peter’s escape in the second year of Claudius, and the forty-fourth from Christ’s birth, which is, according to his computation, the tenth from his death. (Church History, Saec. I. Cap. vi.)

A chain on each side.――That this was a common mode of fastening such prisoners among the Romans, appears from the authorities referred to by Wolf, (Cur. Philology in Acts xii. 6,) Kuinoel and Rosenmueller, (quoting from Walch,) and Bloomfield, all in loc.

Quaternion.――That is, a band of four. See Bloomfield in defense of my mode of disposing them about the prison,――also Rosenmueller, &c. Wolf quotes appositely from Polybius; but Kuinoel is richest of all in quotations and illustrations. (Acts xii. 4, 5.)

THE DELIVERANCE.

Peter was now quietly sleeping between his two guards, when his rest was suddenly broken by a smart blow on the side, too energetically given to be mistaken for an accidental knock from the elbow of one of his heavy bed-fellows. Rousing his senses, and opening his eyes, he was startled by a most remarkable light shining throughout his dungeon, which his last waking glance had left in utter darkness. In this unaccountable illumination, he saw standing before him and bending over him, a form in which he could recognize only the divine messenger of deliverance. The shock of such a surprise must have been overwhelming;――to be waked from a sound sleep by an appearance so utterly unearthly, might have struck horror into the stoutest heart; but Peter seems to have suffered no such emotion to hinder his attendance to the heavenly call. The apparition, before he could exercise thought enough to sit up of himself, had raised him up from his bed, and that without the slightest alarm to his still slumbering keepers,――for “immediately the chains fell from his hands,”――a motion which by the rattling of the falling irons should have aroused the sleepers if any sound could have impressed their senses. The impulse of the now unmanacled captive might have been to spring forth his dungeon without the slightest delay, but his deliverer’s next command forbade any such unnecessary haste. His first words were, “Gird thyself; and tie on thy sandals.” Before laying himself down, he had, as usual, thrown off his outer garments and loosened his girdle, so that his under dress need not so much confine him in sleep as to prevent that perfect relaxation which is necessary for comfortable repose. Just as now-a-days, a man in taking up such a lodging as often falls to a traveler’s lot, will seldom do more than pull off his coat and boots, as Peter did, and perhaps unbutton his waist-band and suspenders, so that on a sudden alarm from his rest, the first direction would very properly be, to “gird himself,” (button his trowsers,) “and tie on his sandals,” (put on his shoes or boots.) The next direction given to Peter, also, “Cast thy garment about thee,” (put on thy coat,) would be equally appropriate. The meaning of all this particularity and deliberation was, no doubt, that there was no need whatever of hurry or slyness about the escape. It was not to be considered a mere smart trick of jail-breaking, by which Peter was to crawl out of his dungeon in such a hurry as to leave his coat and shoes behind him, but a truly miraculous providence insuring his deliverance with a completeness and certainty that allowed him to take every thing that belonged to him. Having now perfectly accoutred himself in his ordinary style, Peter immediately obeyed the next order of his deliverer,――“Follow me.” Leaving his two bed-fellows and room-mates sleeping hard, without the slightest idea of the evacuation of the premises which was so deliberately going on, to their great detriment, Peter now passed out through the open door, following the divine messenger in a state of mind altogether indescribable, but still with just sense enough to obey the directions which thus led him on to blissful freedom. The whole scene bore so perfectly the character of one of those enchanting dreams of liberty with which painful hope often cheats the willing senses of the poor captive in slumber, that he might well and wisely doubt the reality of an appearance so tempting, and which his wishes would so readily suggest to his forgetful spirit. But passing on with his conductor, he moved between the sentinels posted at the doors, who were also equally unaware of the movement going on so boldly under their noses, or rather over them, for they, too, were faster bound in slumber than their prisoner had been in his chains; and he now stepped over their outstretched bodies as they lay before the entrances. These soldiers, too, evidently looked upon their duty as a sort of sinecure, rationally concluding that their two stout comrades on the inside were rather more than a match for the fettered and manacled captive, and that if he should be at all obstreperous, or even uneasy, the noise would soon enough awake them from their nap. And thus excessive precaution is very apt to overshoot itself, each part of the arrangement relying too much on the security of all the rest. The two passengers soon reached the great iron gate of the castle, through which they must pass in order to enter the city. But all the seeming difficulties of this passage vanished as soon as they approached it. The gate swung its enormous mass of metal self-moving through the air, and the half-entranced Peter went on beneath the vacant portal, and now stood without the castle, once more a free man in the fresh, pure air. The difficulties and dangers were not all over yet, however. During all the great feast-days, when large assemblies of people were gathered at Jerusalem from various quarters, to guard against the danger of riots and insurrection in these motley throngs,――the armed Roman force on duty, as Josephus relates, was doubled and tripled, occupying several new posts around the temple, and, as the same historian particularly mentions, on the approaches of castle Antonia, where its foundations descended towards the terraces of the temple, and gave access to the colonnades of the temple. On all these places the guard must have been under arms during this passover, and even at night the sentries would be stationed at all the important posts, as a reasonable security against the numerous strangers of a dubious character, who now thronged the city throughout. Yet all these peculiar precautions, which, at this time, presented so many additional difficulties to the escaping apostle, hindered him not in the least. Entering the city, he followed the footsteps of his blessed guide, unchecked, till they had passed on through the first street, when all at once, without sign or word of farewell, the mysterious deliverer vanished, leaving Peter alone in the silent city, but free and safe. Then flashed upon his mind the conviction of the true character of the apparition. The departure of his guide leaving him to seek his own way, his senses were, by the necessity of this self-direction, recalled from the state of stupefaction, in which he had mechanically followed on from the prison. With the first burst of reflection, he broke out in the exclamation, “Now I know of a truth, that the Lord has sent forth his messenger, and has rescued me out of the hand of Herod, in spite of all the expectation of the Jewish people.” Refreshed and encouraged by this impression, he now used his thoroughly awakened senses to find his exact situation, and after looking about him, he made his way through the dark streets to a place where he knew he should find those whose despairing hearts would be inexpressibly rejoiced by the news of his deliverance. This was the house of Mary, the mother of John Mark, where the disciples were accustomed to assemble. Going up to the gate-way, he rapped on the door, and at once aroused those within; for in their sleepless distress for the imprisoned apostle, several of the brethren had given up all thoughts of sleep, and, as Peter had suspected, were now watching in prayer within this house. The noise of a visitant at this unseasonable hour of the night, immediately brought to the door a lively damsel, named Rhoda; who, according to the Jewish custom of employing females in this capacity, acted as portress of the mansion of Mary. Prudently requiring some account of the person who made this late call, before she opened the door of the persecuted Christians to an unknown and perhaps an ill-disposed character, she was struck with almost frantic joy at hearing the well-known voice of the much mourned Peter, craving admittance. In the highth of her thoughtless gladness, she ran off at once to make known the delightful fact to the disciples in the house, without even seeming to think of the desirableness of admitting the apostle, perhaps because she very naturally wanted to tell such pleasant news first herself. Bursting into the room where the disciples were at prayer for their lamented leader, whom they supposed to be then fast bound for death in the dungeon of Antonia, she communicated the joyful fact, that “Peter was before the gate.” A declaration so extravagantly improbable, at once suggested the idea of her having lost her wits through her affectionate sorrow for the sufferings and anticipated death of the great apostle, and they therefore replied, “Thou art crazy.” Rhoda, somewhat excited by such a provoking expression of incredulity, loudly repeated her slighted piece of good news, and so gravely maintained the truth of it, that some of the more superstitious at last began to think there must be something in it, and seriously suggested, that it must be a supernatural messenger come to give them notice of his certain doom,――“It is his guardian angel.” Peter, however, was all this while standing outside during this grave debate about his real entity, and shivering with the cold of a chilly March night, grew quite impatient at the girl’s inconsiderate folly, and knocked away with might and main, making a noise of most unspiritual character, till at last the disciples determined to cut short the debate by an actual observation; so opening the door to the shivering apostle, the light brought his material existence to a certainty beyond all doubt. Their amazement and joy was bursting forth with a vivacity which quite made up for their previous incredulity; when the apostle, making a hushing sign with his hand,――and with a reasonable fear, too, no doubt, that their obstreperous congratulations might be heard in other houses around, so as to alarm the neighbors and bring out some spiteful Jews, who would procure his detection and recapture,――having obtained silence, went on to give them a full account of his being brought out of prison by the Lord, and after finishing his wonderful story, said to them, “Tell these things to James and the brethren.” From this it would seem that the apostles were all somewhere else, probably having found that a temporary concealment was expedient for their safety, but were still not far from the city. His own personal danger was of so imminent a character, however, that Jerusalem could not be a safe place for him during the search that would be immediately instituted after him by his disappointed and enraged persecutors. It was quite worth while, therefore, for him to use the remaining darkness of the night to complete his escape; and without staying to enjoy their outflowing sympathies, he bade them a hasty farewell, and, as the historian briefly says, went to ANOTHER PLACE. Where this “other place” was, he does not pretend to tell or know, and the only certain inference to be drawn from the circumstance is, that it was beyond the reach or knowledge of the mighty and far-ruling king, who had taken such particular pains to secure Peter’s death. The probabilities as to the real place of his retirement will, however, be given, as soon as the sequel of events in Jerusalem has been narrated, as far as concerns the discovery of his escape.

Bright light.――Some commentators have attempted to make out an explanation of this phenomenon, by referring the whole affair to the effects of a sudden flash and stroke of lightning, falling on the castle, and striking all the keepers senseless,――melting Peter’s chains, and illuminating the place, so that Peter, unhurt amid the general crash, saw this opportunity for escaping, and stepping over their prostrate bodies, made his way out of the prison, and was out of sight before they came to. The most important objection to this ingenious speculation is, that it directly contradicts every verse in Luke’s account of the escape, as well as the general spirit of the narrative. Another weighty reason is, that the whole series of natural causes and effects, proposed as a substitute for the simple meaning, is brought together in such forced and uncommon coincidences, as to require a much greater effort of faith and credulity for its belief, than the miraculous view, which it quite transcends in incredibility. The introduction of explanations of miracles by natural phenomena, is justifiable only so far as these may illustrate the accompaniments of the event, by showing the mode in which those things which are actually mentioned as physical results, operated in producing the impressions described. Thus, when thunder and lightning are mentioned in connection with miraculous events, they are to be considered as real electrical discharges, made to accompany and manifest the presence of God; and where lambent flames are described as appearing in a storm, they, like the corpos santos, are plainly also results of electrical discharges. So too, when mighty winds are mentioned, they are most honestly taken to be real winds, and not deceptive sounds or impressions; and when a cloud is mentioned, it is but fair to consider it a real cloud, made up, like all other clouds, of vapor, and not a mere non-entity, or a delusion existing only in the minds of those who are mentioned as beholding it. But where nothing of this kind is spoken of, and where a distinct personal presence is plainly declared, the attempt to substitute a physical accident for such an apparition, is a direct attack on the honesty of the statement. Such attempts, too, are devoid of the benefits of such illustrations as I have alluded to as desirable; they bring in a new set of difficulties with them, without removing any of those previously obstructing the interpretation of the facts. In this case, the only circumstance which could be reasonably made to agree with the idea of lightning, is the mention of the bright light; while throughout the whole account, the presence of a supernaturally mysterious person, acting and speaking, is perfectly unquestionable. The violation of all probability, shown in this forced explanation, will serve as a fair instance of the mode in which many modern German critics are in the habit of distorting the simple, manifest sense of the sacred writers, for the sake of dispensing with all supernatural occurrences. (See Kuinoel for an enlarged view and discussion of this opinion. Other views of the nature of the phenomenon are also given by him, and by Rosenmueller, on Acts xii. 7.)

Morning dawned at last upon the towers and temple-columns of the Holy City. On the gold-sheeted roofs and snowy-pillared colonnades of the house of God, the sunlight poured with a splendor hardly more glorious than the insupportable brilliancy that was sent back from their dazzling surfaces, streaming like a new morning upon the objects around, whose nearer sides would otherwise have been left in shade by the eastern rays. Castle Antonia shared in this general illumination, and at the first blaze of sunrise, the order of Roman service announced the moment for relieving guard. The bustle of the movement of the new sentries towards their stands, must at last have reached the ears of Peter’s forsaken companions. Their first waking thoughts would of course be on their responsible charge, and they now became for the first time aware of the important deficiency. In vain did their heavy eyes, at first winking with sleepiness, but now wide open with amazement, search the dim vacancy for their eloped bed-fellow. The most inquisitive glance fell only on the blank space between them, scarcely blanker than the forlorn visages of the poor keepers, who saw in this disappearance the seal of their certain death, for having let the prisoner escape. But they had not much time to consider their misfortune, or condole upon it; for the change of sentries now brought to the door the quaternion whose turn on duty came next. With a miserable grace did the unhappy occupants of the cell show themselves at the open door, with the empty chains and fetters dangling at their sides, from which their late companion had so curiously slipped. Most uncomfortable must have been the aspect of things to the two sentinels who had been keeping their steady watch outside of the door, and who shared equally with the inside keepers, in the undesirable responsibilities of this accident. There stood their comrades with the useless chains displayed in their original attachments; but, amazing! what in the world had they done with the prisoner? The ludicrous distress and commotion resulting from this unpleasant revelation, was evidently well appreciated even by the sacred historian, whose brief but pithy expression is not without a latent comic force. “There was no small stir among the soldiers to know what was become of Peter.” A general search into all the holes and corners of the dungeon, of course, ensued; and the castle was no doubt ransacked from top to bottom for the runaway, whose escape from its massive gates seemed still impossible. But not even his cloak and sandals, which he had laid beside him at the last change of guards,――not a shred, not a thread had been left to hint at the mode of his abstraction. Yet this was so bad a story for the ears of the royal Agrippa, that it would not do to give up the search while any chance whatever remained. But all rummaging was perfectly fruitless; and with sorrowful hearts, they now went with their report to the vindictive king, to acknowledge that most unpardonable crime in Roman soldiers,――to have slept on their posts, so that a prisoner of state had escaped on the eve of execution.

Baronius, (Church Annuals, 44, § 8,) speaking of Peter’s escape from his chains, favors us with a solemn statement of the important and interesting circumstance, deriving the proofs from Metaphrastes, (that prince of papistical liars, and grand source of Romish apostolical fables,) that these very chains of Peter are still preserved at Rome, among other venerable relics of equal authenticity; having been faithfully preserved, and at last found after the lapse of four hundred years. The veritable history of this miraculous preservation, as given by the inventive Metaphrastes, is, that the said chains happened to fall into the hands of one of Agrippa’s servants who was a believer in Christ, and so were handed down for four centuries, and at last brought to light. It is lamentable that the list of the various persons through whose hands they passed, is not given, though second in importance only to the authentic record of the papal succession. This impudent and paltry falsehood will serve as a fair specimen of a vast quantity of such stuff, which litters up the pages of even the sober ecclesiastical histories of many papistical writers. The only wonderful thing to me about this story is, that Cave has not given it a place in his Lives of the Apostles, which are made up with so great a portion of similar trash.

Baronius, in connection with this passage, suggests the castle of Antonia as the most probable place of Peter’s confinement. “Juxta templum fortasse in ea munitissima turri quae dicebatur Antonia.” (Baronius, Church Annuals, C. 44, § 5.) A conjecture which certainly adds some weight to my own supposition to that effect; although I did not discover the coincidence in time to mention it in my note on page 194.

Meanwhile, with the early day, up rose the royal Agrippa from his purple couch, to seize the first moment after the close of the passover for the consummation of the doom of the wretched Galilean, who, by the royal decree, must now yield the life already too many days spared, out of delicate scruple about the inviolate purity of that holy week. Up rose also the saintly princes of the Judaic law, coming forth in their solemn trains and broad phylacteries, to grace this most religious occasion with their reverend presence, out of respectful gratitude to their great sovran for his considerate disposition to accord the sanction of his absolute secular power to their religious sentence. Expectation stood on tiptoe for the comfortable spectacle of the streaming life-blood of this stubborn leader of the Nazarene heresy, and nothing was wanting to the completion of the ceremony, but the criminal himself. That “desideratum, so much to be desired,” was, however, not so easily supplied; for the entrance of the delinquent sentinels now presented the non-est-inventus return to the solemn summons for the body of their prisoner. Confusion thrice confounded now fell on the faces that were just shining with anticipated triumph over their hated foe, while secret, scornful joy illuminated the countenances of the oppressed friends of Jesus. But on the devoted minions of the baffled king, did his disappointed vengeance fall most cruelly; in his paroxysm of vexation, and for an event wholly beyond their control they now suffered an undeserved death; making so tragical a catastrophe to a story otherwise decidedly comical, that the reader can only comfort himself with the belief that they were a set of insolent reprobates who had insulted the distresses of their frequent victims, and would have rejoiced in the bloody execution of the apostle.

King Herod Agrippa, after this miserable failure in his attempt to “please the Jews,” does not seem to have made a very long stay in Jerusalem. Before his departure, however, to secure his own solid glory and his kingdom’s safety, as well as the favor of his subjects, he not only continued the repairs of the temple, but instituted such improvements in the fortifications of the city, as, if ever completed, would have made it utterly impregnable even to a Roman force; so that the emperor’s jealousy soon compelled him to abandon this work; and soon after he left Jerusalem, and went down to Caesarea Augusta, on the sea-coast, long the seat of government of Palestine, and a more agreeable place for the operations of a Gentile court and administration, (for such Agrippa’s must have been from his Roman residence,) than the punctilious religious capital of Judea. But he was not allowed to remain much longer on the earth, to hinder the progress of the truth, by acts of tyranny in subservience to the base purposes of winning the favor of his more powerful subjects. The hand of God was laid destroyingly on him, in the midst of what seemed the full fruition of that popular adulation for which he had lived,――in which he now died. Arrayed in a splendid and massy robe of polished silver, he seated himself on the throne erected by his grandfather Herod, in the great Herodian theater at Caesarea, early in the morning of the day which was appointed for the celebration of the great festal games, in honor of his royal patron, Claudius Caesar. On this occasion, to crown his kingly triumph, the embassadors of the great commercial Phoenician cities, Tyre and Sidon, appeared before him to receive his condescending answer to their submissive requests for the re-establishment of a friendly intercourse between his dominions and theirs,――the agricultural products of the former being quite essential to the thriving trade of the latter. Agrippa’s reply was now publicly given to them, in which he graciously granted all their requests, in such a tone of eloquent benignity, that the admiring assembly expressed their approbation in shouts of praise, and at last some bold adulators catching the idea from the rays of dazzling light which flashed from the polished surfaces of his metallic robe, and threw a sort of glory over and around him, cried out, in impious exclamation, “It is the voice of a God, and not of a man.” So little taste had the foolish king, that he did not check this pitiful outbreak of silly blasphemy; but sat swallowing it all, in the most unmoved self-satisfaction. But in the midst of this profane glory, he was called to an account for which it ill prepared him. In the expressive though figurative language of Luke,――“immediately the messenger of the Lord struck him, because he gave not the glory to God.” The Jewish historian, too, in a similar manner assigns the reason. “The king did not rebuke the flatterers, nor refuse their impious adulation. Shortly after he was seized with a pain in the belly, dreadfully violent from the beginning. Turning to his friends he said, ‘Behold! I, your god, am now appointed to end my life,――the decree of fate having at once falsified the voices that but just now were uttering lies about me; and I, who have been called immortal by you, am now carried off dying.’ While he uttered these words he was tortured by the increasing violence of his pain, and was accordingly carried back to his palace. After five days of intense anguish, he died, in the fifty-fourth year of his age, and in the seventh of his reign; having reigned four years under Caius Caesar, and three under Claudius.” Thus ended the days of the conscience-stricken tyrant, while the glorious gospel cause which he had so vainly thought to check and overthrow, now, in the words of Luke, “grew and was multiplied;” the spiteful Jews having lost the right arm of their persecuting authority, in the death of their king, and all Palestine now passing again under the direct Roman rule, whose tolerant principles became once more the great protection of the followers of Jesus.

Agrippa’s death.――My combination of the two different accounts given by Luke and Josephus of this event, I believe accords with the best authorities; nor am I disposed, as Michaelis is, to reject Josephus’s statement as irreconcilable with that in the Acts, though deficient in some particulars, which are given in the latter, and though not rightly apprehending fully the motives and immediate occasions of many things which he mentions. In the same way, too, several minor circumstances are omitted in Luke, which can be brought in from Josephus so as to give a much more vivid idea of the whole event, than can be learned from the Acts alone. (See Michaelis’s introduction to the New Testament,――on Luke. Also Wolf and Kuinoel.)

PETER’S PLACE OF REFUGE.

Luke, in mentioning the departure of Peter from Jerusalem after his escape from prison by night, merely says, “And going out, he went to another place.” The vague, uncertain manner in which this circumstance is mentioned, seems to imply that the writer really knew nothing about this “other place.” It was not a point essential to the integrity of the narrative, though interesting to all the readers of the history, since the most trifling particulars about the chief apostle might well be supposed desirable to be known. But though if it had been known, it would have been well worth recording, it was too trifling a matter to deserve any investigation, if it had not been mentioned to Luke by those from whom he received the accounts which he gives of Peter; and since he is uniformly particular in mentioning even these smaller details, when they fall in the way of his narrative, it is but fair to conclude that in this instance he would have satisfied the natural and reasonable curiosity of his readers, if he had had the means of doing so. There could have been no motive when he wrote, for concealing the fact, and he could have expressed the whole truth in as few words as he has given to show his own ignorance of the point. From the nature of the apostle’s motives in departing from Jerusalem, it must have been at that time desirable to have his place of refuge known to as few as possible; and the fact, at that time unknown, would, after the motive for concealment had disappeared, be of too little interest to be very carefully inquired after by those to whom it was not obvious. In this way it happened, that this circumstance was never revealed to Luke, who not being among the disciples at Jerusalem, would not be in the way of readily hearing of it, and in writing the story would not think it worth inquiring for. But one thing seems morally certain; if Peter had taken refuge in any important place or well known city, it must have been far more likely to have been afterwards a fact sufficiently notorious to have come within the knowledge of his historian; but as the most likely place for a secret retirement would have been some obscure region, this would increase the chances of its remaining subsequently unknown. This consideration is of some importance in settling a few negative facts in relation to various conjectures which have at different times been offered on the place of Peter’s refuge.

Among these, the most idle and unfounded is, that on leaving Jerusalem he went to Caesarea. What could have suggested this queer fancy to its author, it is hard to say; but it certainly implies the most senseless folly in Peter, when seeking a hiding place from the persecution of king Herod Agrippa, to go directly to the capital of his dominions, where he might be expected to reside for the greater part of the time, and whither he actually did go, immediately after his disappointment about this very apostle. It was jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire, to go thus away from among numerous friends who might have found a barely possible safety for him in Jerusalem, and to seek a refuge in Caesarea where there were but very few friends of the apostles, and where he would be in constant danger of discovery from the numerous minions of the king, who thronged all parts of that royal city, and from the great number of Greeks, Romans and Syrians, making up the majority of the population, who hated the very sight of a Jew, and would have taken vast pleasure in gratifying their spite, and at the same time gaining high favor with the king by hunting out and giving up to wrath an obscure heretic of that hated race. It would not have been at all accordant with the serpent-wisdom enjoined on the apostle, to have run his head thus into the lion’s mouth, by seeking a quiet and safe dwelling-place beneath the very nose of his powerful persecutor.

Another conjecture vastly less absurd, but still not highly probable, is, that Antioch was the “other place” to which Peter went from Jerusalem; but an objection of great force against this, is that already alluded to above, in reference to the ineligibility of a great city as a place of concealment; and in this instance is superadded the difficulty of his immediately making this long journey over the whole extent of Agrippa’s dominions, northward, at such a time, when the king’s officers would be every where put on the alert for him, more particularly in the direction of his old home in Galilee, which would be in the nearest way to Antioch. His most politic movement, therefore, would be to take some shorter course out of Palestine. Moreover, in this case, there is a particular reason why Luke would have mentioned the name of Antioch if that had been the place. What the proof of this reason is, can be best shown in his life; but the bare statement of the fact may be sufficient for the present,――that he was himself a citizen of that place, and could not have been ignorant or negligent of the circumstance of this visit, if it had occurred.

It has been suggested by others that the expression, “to another place,” does not imply a departure from Jerusalem, but is perfectly reconcilable with the supposition that Peter remained concealed in some safe and unknown part of the city. This view would very unobjectionably accord with the vagueness of the passage,――since if merely another part of Jerusalem was meant, no name could be expected to describe it. But it would certainly seem like a presumptuous rashness in Peter, to risk in so idle a manner the freedom which he owed to a miraculous interposition; for the circumstance of such an interposition could not be intended to justify him in dispensing with a single precaution which would be proper and necessary after an escape in any other mode. Such is not the course of divine dealings, whether miraculous or ordinary; and in a religious as well as an economical view, the force and truth of Poor Richard’s saying is undoubted,――“God helps them who help themselves;” nor is his helping them any reason why they should cease to help themselves. Peter’s natural impulse, as well as a considerate prudence, then, would lead him to immediate exertions to keep the freedom so wonderfully obtained, and such an impulse and such a consideration would at once teach him that the city was no place for him, at a time when the most desperately diligent search might be expected. For as soon as his escape was discovered, Luke says, that the king “sought most earnestly for him,” and in a search thus characterized, inspired too by the most furious rage at the disappointment, hardly a hole or corner of Jerusalem could have been left unransacked; so that this preservation of the apostle from pursuers so determined, would have required a continual series of miracles, fully as wonderful as that which effected his deliverance from castle Antonia. His most proper and reasonable course would then have been directly eastward from Jerusalem,――a route which would give him the shortest exit from the territories of Herod Agrippa, leading him directly into Arabia, a region that was, in another great instance hereafter mentioned, a place of comfortable and undisturbed refuge for a person similarly circumstanced. A journey of fifty or sixty miles through an unfrequented and lonely country, would put him entirely beyond pursuit; and the character of the route would make it exceedingly difficult to trace his flight, as the nature of the country would facilitate his concealment, while its proximity to Jerusalem would make his return after the removal of the danger by the death of Agrippa, as easy as his flight thither in the first place.

At Jerusalem.――This notion I find nowhere but in Lardner, who approves it, quoting Lenfant. [Lardner, History of the Apostles and Evangelists, Life of Peter.]

Another series of papistical fables carries him on his supposed tour on the coast, beyond Caesarea, and, uniting two theories, makes him visit Antioch also; and finally extends his pilgrimage into the central and northern parts of Asia Minor. This fabulous legend, though different in its character from the preceding accounts, because it impudently attempts to pass off a bald invention as an authentic history, while those are only offered honestly as probable conjectures, yet may be worthy of a place here, because it is necessary in giving a complete view of all the stories which have been received, to present dishonest inventions as well as justifiable speculations. The clearest fabulous account given of his journey thither, is, that parting from Jerusalem as above-mentioned, he directed his way westwards toward the sea-coast of Palestine, first to Caesarea Stratonis, (or Augusta,) where he constituted one of the presbyters who attended him from Jerusalem, bishop of the church founded there by him on his visit;――that leaving Caesarea he went northwards along the coast into Phoenicia, arriving at the city of Sidon;――that there he performed many cures and also appointed a bishop; next to Berytus, (now Beyroot,) in Syria, and there also appointed a bishop. Going on through Syria, along the coast of the Mediterranean, they bring him next, in his curiously detailed track, to Biblys, then to the Phoenician Tripoli, to Orthosia, to Antandros, to the island of Aradus, near the coast, to Balaenas, to Panta, to Laodicea, and at last to Antioch,――planting churches in all these hard-named towns on the way, and sowing bishops, as before, by handfulls, as well as performing vast quantities of miracles. The story of Peter’s journey goes on to say, that after leaving Antioch he went into Cappadocia, and stayed some time in Tyana, a city of that province. Proceeding westward thence, he came to Ancyra, in Galatia, where he raised a dead person, baptized believers, and instituted a church, over which he ordained a bishop. Thence northward, into Pontus, where he visited the cities of Sinope and Amasea, on the coast of the Euxine sea. Then turning eastward into Paphlagonia, stopped at Gangra and Claudiopolis; next into Bithynia, to the cities of Nicomedia and Nicaea; and thence returned directly to Antioch, whence he shortly afterwards went to Jerusalem.

This ingenious piece of apostolic romance is due to the same veracious Metaphrastes, above quoted. I have derived it from him through Caesar Baronius, who gives it in his Annales Ecclesiastici. (44, § 10, 11.) The great annalist approves and adopts it, however, only as far as it describes the journey of Peter to Antioch; and there he leaves the narrative of Metaphrastes, and instead of taking Peter on his long tour through Asia Minor and back to Jerusalem, as just described, carries him off upon a far different route, achieving the great journey westward, which accords with the view taken by the vast majority of the old ecclesiastical writers, and which is next given here. Metaphrastes also maintains this view, indeed, but supposes and invents all the events just narrated, as intermediate occurrences, between Peter’s escape and his great journey, and begins the account of this latter, after his return from his Asian circuit.

To connect all this long pilgrimage with the story given in the sacred record, the sage Baronius makes the ingenious suggestion, that this was the occult reason why Agrippa was wroth with those of Tyre and Sidon; namely, that Peter had gone through their country when a fugitive from the royal vengeance, and had been favorably received by the Tyrians and Sidonians, who should have seized him as a runaway from justice, and sent him back to Agrippa. This acute guess, he thinks, will show a reason also for the otherwise unaccountable fact, that Luke should mention this quarrel between Agrippa and those cities, in connection with the events of Peter’s escape and Agrippa’s death. For the great cardinal does not seem to appreciate the circumstance of its close relation to the latter event, in presenting the occasion of the reconciliation between the king and the offending cities, on which the king made his speech to the people, and received the impious tribute of praise, which was followed by his death;――the whole constituting a relation sufficiently close between the two events, to justify the connection in Luke.

THE FIRST VISIT TO ROME.

But the view of this passage in Peter’s history, which was long adopted universally by those who took the pains to ask about this “other place,” mentioned by Luke, and the view which involves the most important relations to other far greater questions, is, that Rome was the chief apostle’s refuge from the Agrippine persecution, and that in the imperial city he now laid the deep foundations of the church universal. On this point some of the greatest champions of papistry have expended vast labor, to establish a circumstance so convenient for the support of the dogma of the divinely appointed supremacy of the Romish church, since the belief of this early visit of Peter would afford a very convenient basis for the very early apostolical foundation of the Roman see. But though this notion of his refuge has received the support of a vast number of great names from the very early periods of Christian literature, and though for a long period this view was considered indubitable, from the sanction of ancient authorities, there is not one of the various conjectures offered which is so easily overthrown on examination, from the manner in which it is connected with other notions most palpably false and baseless. The old papistical notion was, that Peter at this time visited Rome, founded the church there, and presided over it, as bishop, twenty-five years, but occasionally visiting the east. As respects the minute details of this journey to Rome, the papist historians are by no means agreed, few of them having put any value upon the particulars of such an itinerary, until those periods when such fables were sought after by common readers with more avidity. But there is at least one hard-conscienced narrator, who undertakes to go over all the steps of the apostle on the road to the eternal city, and from his narrative are brought these circumstances. The companions assigned him by this romance, on his journey, were the evangelist Mark, Appollinaris, afterwards, as the story goes, appointed by him bishop of Ravenna, in Italy; Martial, afterwards a missionary in Gaul, and Rufus, bishop of Capua, in Italy. Pancratius, of Tauromenius, and Marcian, of Syracuse, in Sicily, had been sent on by Peter to that island, while he was yet staying at Antioch, but on his voyage he landed there and made them his companions also. His great route is said to have led him to Troy, on the northern part of the Asian coast of the Aegean sea, whence they seem to have made him cross to the eastern port of Corinth. At this great city of Greece, they bring him into the company of Paul and Silas, who were sent thither, to be sure, on a mission, but evidently at a different time, a circumstance which, among many others, helps to show the bungling manner in which the story is made up. From Corinth they carry him next to Syracuse, as just mentioned. Thence to Neapolis, (Naples,) in Campania, where, as the monkish legend says, this chief of the apostles celebrated with his companions a mass, for the safe progress of his voyage to Italy. Having now reached Italy, he is made the subject of a new fable for the benefit of every city along the coast, and is accordingly said to have touched at Liburnum, (Livorno, Leghorn,) being driven thither by stress of weather, and thence to Pisa, near by, where he offered up another mass for his preservation, as is still maintained in local fables; but the general Romish legend does not so favor these places, but brings the apostle, without any more marine delay or difficulty, directly over land from Naples to Rome; and on this route again, one lie suggesting another, a local superstition commemorates the veritable circumstances, that he made this land-journey from Naples to Rome, on foot; and on the way stopped at the house of a Galilean countryman of his own, named Mark, in a town called Atina, of which the said Mark was afterwards made bishop.