“One can judge how great were my sufferings in seeing my hopes thus frustrated. My grief was the more keen, since I really did suppose he knew something; but, as it would require a long time for me to perfect myself in those branches, I could not submit to the delay. I then determined to seek the instruction of the Platonists. There was a philosopher of that sect in our city, highly distinguished. I had many conversations with him, and profited much by them. It afforded me great pleasure to become acquainted with incorporeal things. The consideration of ideas elevated my spirit as upon the wings of an eagle. Thus I thought that in a very short time I should become wise. I even conceived the foolish hope that I should soon see God. This frame of mind led me to seek solitude.”
Justin then goes on to narrate, that one day he was walking by the shore of the sea, absorbed in thought, when he saw a venerable man approaching him. The dignified bearing of the stranger, and the remarkable serenity and sweetness of his countenance, arrested his attention. They entered into conversation. The stranger proved to be a Christian, a man of remarkable intelligence, who understood the vain systems of the philosophers as well as the gross absurdities of the popular idolatry. He unfolded to Justin the religion of Jesus. The young man was deeply impressed with the revelation thus made to him. As he contemplated the idea of one God, the Creator of all things; of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, coming to the world to make atonement for sin; of immortality; of the elevation of the soul to eternal happiness in heaven through penitence, the abandonment of sin, and the prayerful and persevering endeavor in thought and word and deed to live a holy life,—the earnest spirit of Justin bowed to themajesty of truth. He became a devoted Christian. The simple preaching of the cross of Christ, which many of the Greek philosophers regarded as foolishness, became to Justin, as it has to many others, “the wisdom of God and the power of God unto salvation.”
Justin, by his self-denying devotion, soon became conspicuous in all the churches. He wrote an apology in behalf of the Christians. This treatise, which would do honor to any pen in the nineteenth century, was addressed “To the Emperor Antoninus, his two sons, the Roman senate, and all the Roman people.” Very lucidly he stated the essential doctrines of Christianity, and the nature of the evidence upon which the religion was founded. With resistless force of argument he refuted the calumnies with which the Christians were assailed, showing that their hopes of eternal happiness were all forfeited if they allowed themselves in any known sin. He dwelt upon the injustice of condemning Christians for their name alone. He made it perfectly clear to the humblest intelligence, that, when the Christians spoke of the kingdom of Christ, they had reference, not to an earthly, but to a spiritual kingdom. He stated the nature and design of the sacraments,—of baptism and the Lord’s supper.
Justin closed his apology with the following forcible words:—
“If you find Christianity to be reasonable, respect it: but do not condemn to death, simply because they are Christians, those who have committed no crime; for we declare to you, that you cannot escape the judgment of God if you persist in such wickedness. As for us, we only say, ‘The will of God be done.’ We might demand justice of you in virtue of the decree of your illustrious father Adrian; but we have preferred to rest our cause upon the justice of our demands.”
This admirable treatise, calmly written with great force of language and cogency of argument, must have exerted a very powerful influence. Still popular prejudice is seldom removed by argument. Though here and there many leading minds were led to regard Christianity with more favor, still the maliceof the ignorant and brutal masses, who were ever crying, “To the lions with the Christians!” remained unchanged.
Justin was at Rome when he wrote this apology. Soon after, he left Rome, and retired to Ephesus.
Upon the death of Antoninus, whose reign of twenty-two years was an uneventful one, Marcus Aurelius ascended the throne. For some unexplained reason, the new emperor commenced his reign with very unfriendly feelings towards the Christians. Though he issued no decree of persecution, yet he afforded the disciples no protection: they were left to be maltreated by the brutal populace, and often to be condemned to torture and death by the angry and unprincipled governors of distant provinces. In the seventh year of the reign of Marcus Aurelius, a very terrible persecution of the Christians sprang up in Smyrna and its environs. The emperor remained silent in his palace while the Christians were scourged to death, burnt at the stake, or thrown to wild beasts. It is said that these martyrs were so wonderfully sustained by supernatural power, that, in their hours of most dreadful anguish, not a groan escaped their lips.
It will be remembered that the venerable Polycarp was bishop of the church in Smyrna. Through the urgency of his friends he was induced to leave the city, to seek a retreat in the country. The mob clamored for his blood: they pursued him. Two boys were found, who, as they supposed, knew of the place of his concealment. These merciless men placed the boys upon the rack. In their unendurable agony, they told where Polycarp was to be found. A band of soldiers, thoroughly armed, hastened to seize him. It was late on Friday night, and the bishop was calmly sleeping in his chamber. Aroused by the noise of their entrance, he descended to meet them, greeted them kindly, and ordered refreshments to be set before them. He then asked of them the favor to grant him one hour for prayer. The soldiers, impressed by his venerable appearance and kindly spirit, could not refuse his request. At the close of this season of devotion they placed him upon an ass, and conducted him to the city.
The sun of Saturday morning had risen as they entered the streets of Smyrna. Many of the pagans who had long known Polycarp, and who appreciated the nobleness of his character, entreated him simply to say, “Lord Cæsar,” to offer sacrifice to the idols, and thus to be saved. He meekly replied, “I cannot follow your advice.” They were so exasperated by what they considered his irrational stubbornness, that they not only overwhelmed him with reproaches, but treated him with personal abuse.