Essays on the work entitled "Supernatural Religion"

by J. B. Lightfoot

(1) In the first place he conceives the incidents, as represented in the Epistles, to be altogether incredible. Thus he says [74:2]:—

'The writer describes the circumstances of his journey as follows:—"From Syria even unto Rome I fight with wild beasts, by sea and by land, by night and day; being bound amongst ten leopards, which are the band of soldiers: who even when good is done to them render evil." Now if this account be in the least degree true, how is it possible to suppose that the martyr could have found means to write so many long epistles, entering minutely into dogmatic teaching, and expressing the most deliberate and advanced views regarding ecclesiastical government?'

And again:—

'It is impossible to suppose that soldiers such as the quotation above describes would allow a prisoner, condemned to wild beasts for professing Christianity, deliberately to write long epistles at every stage of his journey, promulgating the very doctrines for which he was condemned. And not only this, but on his way to martyrdom, he has, according to the epistles, perfect freedom to see his friends. He receives the bishops, deacons, and members of various Christian communities, who come with greetings to him, and devoted followers accompany him on his journey. All this without hindrance from the "ten leopards," of whose cruelty he complains, and without persecution or harm to those who so openly declare themselves his friends and fellow-believers. The whole story is absolutely incredible.'

To this objection, plausible as it may appear at first sight, a complete answer is afforded by what is known of Roman procedure in other cases [75:1]. As a matter of fact, Christian prisoners during the early centuries were not uncommonly treated by the authorities with this same laxity and indulgence which is here accorded to Ignatius. An excited populace or a stern magistrate might insist on the condemnation of a Christian; a victim must be sacrificed to the wrath of the gods, or to the majesty of the law; a human life must be 'butcher'd to make a Roman holiday;' but the treatment of the prisoners meanwhile, even after condemnation, was, except in rare instances, the reverse of harsh. St Paul himself preaches the Gospel apparently with almost as much effect through the long years of his imprisonment as when he was at large. During his voyage he moves about like the rest of his fellow-travellers; when he arrives at Rome, he is still treated with great consideration. He writes letters freely, receives visits from his friends, communicates with churches and individuals as he desires, though the chain is on his wrist and the soldier at his side all the while. Even at a much later date, when the growth of the Christian Church may have created an alarm among statesmen and magistrates which certainly cannot have existed in the age of Ignatius, we see the same leniency of treatment, and (what is more important) the same opportunities of disseminating their opinions accorded to the prisoners. Thus Saturus and Perpetua, the African martyrs, who suffered under Severus [76:1] (apparently in the year 202 or 203), are allowed writing materials, with which they record the extant history of their sufferings; and they too are visited in prison by Christian deacons, as well as by their own friends. They owed this liberty partly to the humanity of the chief officers; partly to gratuities bestowed by their friends on the gaolers [76:2]. Even after the lapse of another half-century, when Decius seriously contemplated the extermination of Christianity, we are surprised to find the amount of communication still kept up with the prisoners in their dungeons. The Cyprianic correspondence reveals to us the confessors and martyrs writing letters to their friends, visited by large numbers of people, even receiving the rites of the Church in their prisons at the hands of Christian priests.

But the most powerful testimony is derived from the representations of a heathen writer. The Christian career of Peregrinus must have fallen within the reign of Antoninus Pius (A.D. 138-161). Thus it is not very far removed, in point of time, from the age of Ignatius. This Peregrinus is represented by Lucian, writing immediately after his death (A.D. 165), as being incarcerated for his profession of Christianity, and the satirist thus describes the prison scene [76:3]:—

'When he was imprisoned, the Christians, regarding it as a great calamity, left no stone unturned in the attempt to rescue him. Then, when they found this impossible, they looked after his wants in every other respect with unremitting zeal ([Greek: ou parergôs alla sun spoudê]). And from early dawn old women, widows, and orphan children, might be seen waiting about the doors of the prison; while their officers ([Greek: hoi en telei autôn]) succeeded, by bribing the keepers, in passing the night inside with him. Then various meals were brought in, and religious discourses were held between them, and this excellent Peregrinus (for he still bore this name) was entitled a new Socrates by them. Moreover, there came from certain cities in Asia deputies sent by the Christian communities to assist and advise and console the man. Indeed they show incredible despatch, when any matter of the kind is undertaken as a public concern; for, in short, they spare nothing. And so large sums of money came to Peregrinus at that time from them, on the plea of his fetters, and he made no inconsiderable revenue out of it.'

The singular correspondence in this narrative with the account of Ignatius, combined with some striking coincidences of expression [77:1], have led to the opinion that Lucian was acquainted with the Ignatian history, if not with the Ignatian letters. For this view there is much to be said; and, if it be true, the bearing of the fact on the genuineness of the Ignatian literature is important, since Lucian was born in Syria somewhere about A.D. 120, and lived much in Asia Minor. At all events it is conclusive for the matter in hand, as showing that Christian prisoners were treated in the very way described in these epistles. The reception of delegates and the freedom of correspondence, which have been the chief stumbling-blocks to modern criticism in the Ignatian letters, appear quite as prominently in the heathen satirist's account of Peregrinus [77:2].

In the light of these facts the language of Ignatius becomes quite intelligible. He was placed under the custody of a maniple of soldiers. These ten men would relieve guard in turns, the prisoner being always bound to one or other of them day and night, according to the well-known Roman usage, as illustrated by the case of St Paul. The martyr finds his guards fierce and intractable as leopards. His fight with wild beasts, he intimates, is not confined to the arena of the Flavian amphitheatre; it has been going on continuously ever since he left Antioch. His friends manage to secure him indulgences by offering bribes, but the soldiers are exorbitant and irritating in the extreme [78:1]. The more they receive, the more they exact. Their demands keep pace with his exigencies. All this is natural, and it fully explains the language here ascribed to Ignatius. A prisoner smarting under such treatment naturally dwells on the dark side of the picture, without thinking how a critic, writing in his study centuries afterwards, will interpret his fragmentary and impulsive utterances. In short, we must treat Ignatius as a man, and not as an automaton. Men will not talk mechanically, as critics would have them talk.

(2) Having declared 'the whole story' to be 'absolutely incredible,' on the grounds which I have just considered, our author continues [78:2]:—