Lives of the apostles of Jesus Christ

by David Francis Bacon

By following these droll stories through all their details, the life of Andrew might easily be made longer than that of Peter; but the character of this work would be much degraded from its true historical dignity by such contents. The monkish novels and romances would undoubtedly make a very amusing, and in some senses, an instructive book; and a volume as large as this might be easily filled with these tales. But this extract will serve very well as a specimen of their general character. A single passage farther, may however be presented, giving a somewhat interesting fictitious account of his crucifixion.

After innumerable works of wonder, Andrew had come at last to Patras, a city in the northwestern part of Achaia, still known by that name, standing on the gulf of Lepanto, famous in modern Greek history as the scene of a desperate struggle with the Turks, during a long siege, in the war of Grecian independence. In this city, as the fable states, then resided the Roman proconsul of the province, whose name is variously given by different story-tellers; by some, Aegeas,——by others, Aegeates and Aegeatus, and by others, Egetes. The apostle was soon called on to visit his family, by a female servant, who had been converted by the preaching of one of Andrew’s disciples. She, coming to Andrew, fell at his feet, clasping them, and besought him in the name of the proconsul’s wife, Maximilla, her mistress, then very sick with a fever, to come to her house, that she might hear from him the gospel. The apostle went, therefore, and on entering the room found the proconsul in such an agony of despair about the sickness of his beloved wife, that he had at that moment drawn his sword to kill himself. Andrew immediately cried out, “Proconsul! do thyself no harm; but put up thy sword into its place, for the present. There will be a time for you to exercise it upon us, soon.” The ruler, without perceiving the point of the remark, gave way, in obedience to the word of the apostle. He then, drawing nigh the bed of the invalid, after some discourse, took hold of her hand, when she was immediately covered with a profuse sweat, the symptoms being all relieved and the fever broken up. As soon as the proconsul saw the wonderful change, he, in a spirit of liberal remuneration, which deserves the gratitude of the whole medical profession, ordered to be paid to the holy man the liberal fee of one hundred pieces of silver; but not appreciating this liberality, Andrew decidedly refused to receive any pay at all, not choosing to render such medical services with the view of any compensation, and would not so much as look at it,——exciting no small astonishment in the proconsul by such extraordinary disinterestedness. The apostle then leaving the palace, went on through the city, relieving the most miserable beggars lying in the dirt, with the same good will which he had shown in the family of the ruler. Passing on, he came to the water-side, and there finding a poor, wretched, dirty sailor, lying on the ground, covered with sores and vermin, cured him directly, lifted him up, and taking him into the water, close by, gave him a good washing, which at the same time served for both body and soul,——for the apostle at once making it answer for a baptism, pronounced him pure in the name of the Trinity. Soon after this occurrence, which gained him great fame, he was called to relieve a boy belonging to Stratocles, the brother of the proconsul, the apostle having been recommended to him as a curer of diseases, by Maximilla and her maid. The devil having been, of course, cast out of the boy, Stratocles believed, as did his brother’s wife, who was so desirous of hearing the apostle preach, that at last she took advantage of her husband’s absence in Macedonia, and had regular religious meetings in her husband’s great hall of state, where he held his courts,——quite an extraordinary liberty for any man’s wife to take with his affairs, behind his back. It happened at last, that the unsuspecting gentleman suddenly returned, when his wife had not expected him, and would have immediately burst into the room, then thronged with a great number of all sorts of people; but Andrew, foreseeing what was about to happen, managed, by a queer kind of miracle, to make it convenient for him to go somewhere else for a while, until every one of the audience having been made invisible with the sign of the cross, by Andrew, sneaked off unseen; so that the deceived proconsul, when he came in, never suspected what tricks had been played on him. Maximilla, being now prevented by her husband’s return from having any more meetings in his house, afterwards resorted to the apostle’s lodgings, where the Christians constantly met to hear him,——and became at last so assiduous in her attendance by day and by night, that her husband began to grow uneasy about her unseasonable absences, because he had no sort of pleasure with her since she had been so given up to her mysterious occupations, away from him almost constantly. He accordingly began to investigate the difficulty, and finding that it was the work of Andrew, who had been teaching the lady a new religion, which wholly absorbed her in devotion, to the exclusion of all enjoyment with her family, sent for him, and commanded him to take his choice between renouncing his troublesome faith, and crucifixion. But the apostle indignantly and intrepidly declared his readiness to maintain the doctrine of Jesus Christ, through all peril, and even to death, and then went on to give the sum and substance of his creed. The unyielding proconsul however, put him in prison immediately, where Andrew occupied himself all night in exhorting his disciples to stand fast in the faith. Being brought the next day before the proconsul’s tribunal, he renewed his refusal to sacrifice to idols, and was therefore dragged away to the cross, after receiving twenty-one lashes. The proconsul, enraged at his pertinacity, ordered him to be bound to the cross, instead of being nailed in the usual way;——(a very agreeable exchange, it would seem, for any one would rather have his hands and feet tied with a cord to a cross, than be nailed to it; and it is hard to see how this could operate to increase his torture, otherwise than by keeping him there till he starved to death.) On coming in sight of the cross, he burst out into an eloquent strain of joy and exultation, while yet at some distance,——exclaiming as they bore him along, “Hail! O cross! consecrated by the body of Christ, and adorned with the pearls of his precious limbs! I come to thee confident and rejoicing, and do thou receive, with exultation, the disciple of him who once hung on thee, since I have long been thy lover and have longed to embrace thee. Hail! O cross! that now art satisfied, though long wearied with waiting for me. O good cross! that hast acquired grace and beauty from the limbs of the Lord! long-desired and dearly loved! sought without ceasing, and long foreseen with wishful mind! take me from men and give me back to my Master, that by thee He may receive me, who by thee has redeemed me.” After this personifying address to the inanimate wood, he gave himself up to the executioners, who stripped him, and bound his hands and feet as had been directed, thus suspending him on the cross. Around the place of execution stood a vast throng of sympathizing beholders, numbering not less than twenty thousand persons, to whom the apostle, unmoved by the horrors which so distressed them, now coolly addressed them in the words of life, though himself on the verge of death. For two days and nights, in this situation, in fasting and agony, he yet continued without a moment’s cessation to exhort the multitude who were constantly thronging to the strange sight; till at last, on the third day, the whole city, moved beyond all control, by the miracle of energy and endurance, rushed in one mass to the proconsul, and demanded the liberation of the God-sustained apostle. The ferocious tyrant, overawed by the solemn power of the demand, coming from such an excited multitude, at last yielded; and to the great joy of the people, went out to the cross to release the holy sufferer, at the sight of whose enraptured triumph over pain and terror, the hard-hearted tyrant himself melted, and in sorrow and penitence he drew near the cross to exercise his new-born mercy. But Andrew, already on the eve of a martyr’s triumph, would not bear to be snatched back from such glories so nearly attained; and in earnest remonstrance cried out, praying, “O Lord Jesus Christ! do not suffer thy servant, who for thy name’s sake hangs on the cross, to be thus freed,——nor let me, O merciful God! when now clinging to thy mysteries, be given up again to human conversations. But take thou me, my Master! whom I have loved,——whom I have known,——whom I hold,——whom I long to see,——in whom I am what I am. Let me die then, O Jesus, good and merciful.” And having said these things for so long a time,——praising God and rejoicing, he breathed out his soul, amid the tears and groans of all the beholders.

Here ends the tale of the fictitious Abdias Babylonius, of which this concluding abstract is another literal specimen, presenting its most effective part in the pathetic line, as the former does of its ludicrous portions. The story of Andrew is altogether the longest and best constructed, as well as the most interesting in the character of its incidents, of all contained in the book of the Pseudo-Abdias; and I have therefore been more liberal in extracts from this, because it would leave little occasion for any similar specimens under the lives of the rest of the apostles.

All this long story may, very possibly, have grown up from a beginning which was true; that is, there may have been another Andrew, who, in a later age of the early times of Christianity, may have gone over those regions as a missionary, and met with somewhat similar adventures; and who was afterwards confounded with the apostle Andrew. The Scotch, for some reason or other, formerly adopted Andrew as their national saint, and represent him on a cross of a peculiar shape, resembling the letter X, known in heraldry by the name of a saltier, and borne on the badges of the knights of the Scottish order of the Thistle, to this day. This idea of his cross, however, has originated since the beginning of the twelfth century, as I shall show by a passage from Bernardus.

The truly holy Bernard, (Abbot of Clairvaux, in France, A. D. 1112,) better worthy of the title of Saint than ninety-nine hundredths of all the canonized who lived before him, even from apostolic days,——has, among his splendid sermons, three most eloquent discourses, preached in his abbey church, on St. Andrew’s day, in which he alludes to the actions of this apostle, as recorded in the “Passion of St. Andrew,”——a book which he seems to quote as worthy of credit. In Latin of Ciceronian purity, he has given some noble specimens of a pulpit eloquence, rarely equalled in any modern language, and such as never blesses the ears of the hearers of these days. He begins his first discourse on this subject with saying, that in “celebrating the glorious triumphs of the blessed Andrew, they had that day been delighted with the words of grace, that proceeded out of his mouth;”——(doubtless in hearing the story of the crucifixion read from the fictitious book of the Passion of St. Andrew, which all supposed to be authentic.) “For there was no room for sorrow, where he himself was so intensely rejoiced. No one of us mourned for him in his sufferings, for no one dared to weep over him, while he was thus exulting. So that he might most appropriately say to us, what the cross-bearing Redeemer said to those who followed him with mourning,——‘Weep not for me; but weep for yourselves.’ And when the blessed Andrew himself was led to the cross, and the people, grieving for the unjust condemnation of the holy and just man, would have prevented his execution,——he, with the most urgent prayer, forbade them from depriving him of his crown of suffering. For ‘he desired indeed to be released, and to be with Christ,’——but on the cross; he desired to enter the kingdom,——but by the door. Even as he said to that loved form, ‘that by thee, he may receive me, who by thee has redeemed me.’ Therefore if we love him, we shall rejoice with him; not only because he was crowned, but because he was crucified.” (A bad, and unscriptural doctrine! for no apostle ever taught, or was taught, that it was worth while for any man to be crucified, when he could well help it.)

In his second sermon on the same subject, the animated Bernard remarks furthermore, in comment on the behavior of Andrew, when coming in sight of his cross,——“You have certainly heard how the blessed Andrew was stayed on the Lord, when he came to the place where the cross was made ready for him,——and how, by the spirit which he had received along with the other apostles, in the fiery tongues, he spoke truly fiery words. And so, seeing from afar the cross prepared, he did not turn pale, though mortal weakness might seem to demand it; his blood did not freeze,——his hair did not rise,——his voice did not cleave to his throat, (non stetere comae, aut vox faucibus haesit.) Out of the abundance of his heart, his mouth did speak; and the deep love which glowed in his heart, sent forth the words like burning sparks.” He then quotes the speech of Andrew to the cross, as above given, and proceeds: “I beseech you, brethren, say, is this a man who speaks thus? Is it not an angel, or some new creature? No: it is merely a ‘man of like passions with ourselves.’ For the very agony itself, in whose approach he thus rejoiced, proves him to have been ‘a man of passion.’ Whence, then, in man, this new exultation, and joy before unheard of? Whence, in man, a mind so spiritual,——a love so fervent,——a courage so strong? Far would it be from the apostle himself, to wish, that we should give the glory of such grace to him. It is the ‘perfect gift, coming down from the Father of Lights,’——from him, ‘who alone does wondrous things.’ It was, dearly beloved, plainly, ‘the spirit which helpeth our infirmities,’ by which was shed abroad in his heart, a love, strong as death,——yea, and stronger than death. Of which, O may we too be found partakers!”

The preacher then goes on with the practical application of the view of these sufferings, and the spirit that sustained them, to the circumstances of his hearers. After some discourse to this effect, he exhorts them to seek this spirit. “Seek it then, dearest! seek it without ceasing,——seek it without doubting;——in all your works invoke the aid of this spirit. For we also, my brethren, with the blessed Andrew, must needs take up our cross,——yea, with that Savior-Lord whom he followed. For, in this he rejoiced,——in this he exulted;——because not only for him, but with him, he would seem to die, and be planted, so ‘that suffering with him, he might also reign with him.’ With whom, that we may also be crucified, let us hear more attentively with the ears of our hearts, the voice of him who says, ‘He who will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.’ As if he said, ‘Let him who desires me, despise himself: let him who would do my will, learn to break his own.’”

Bernard then draws a minute parallel, more curious than admirable, between the cross and the trials of life,——likening the four difficulties in the way of holiness, to the four ends of the cross; bodily fear being the foot-piece; open assaults and temptations, the right arm-piece; secret sins and trials, the left hand-piece; and spiritual pride, the head-piece. Or, as he briefly recapitulates, the four virtues attached to the four horns of the cross, are these:——continence, patience, prudence, and humility. A truly forcible figure, and one not without its effect, doubtless, on the hearers. This arrangement of the cross, moreover, seems to prove, that in the time of Bernard, the idle story about Andrew’s cross being shaped like the letter X, was entirely unknown; for it is evident that the whole point of the allusion here consists in the hearers supposing that Andrew was crucified on a cross of the common shape,——upright, with a transverse bar and head-piece.

In conclusion of all this fabulous detail, may be appropriately quoted the closing passage of the second discourse of Bernard, the spirit of which, though coming from a Papist, is not discordant with the noblest essential principles of truly catholic Christianity, seldom indeed, found so pure in the Romish church, as in this “Last of the Fathers,” as he has been justly styled. This, with all the passages above quoted, may be found by those who can enjoy the original, in his works. (Divi Bernardi Opera Omnia Joh. Picard. Antwerp, 1609, folio; columns 322–333.)

So accordant are these words with the spirit which it becomes this work to inculcate, that I may well adopt them into the text, glad to hang a moral to the end of so much falsehood, though drawn from such a theme, that it seems like “gathering grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles.”