“Paulus Romae, apex Evangelii.”—BENGEL.
SO ended St. Paul’s fourth shipwreck. The sight of the vessel attracted the natives of the island,1 a simple Punic race, mingled with Greek settlers, and under Roman dominion. There have been times far more recent, and coasts far nearer to the scenes of civilisation, in which the castaways of a derelict would have been more likely to be robbed and murdered than received with hospitality and compassion; but these Maltese Phœnicians, nearly two millenniums ago, welcomed the rescued crew with unusual kindness. Heavy showers had come on, and the shipwrecked men were half–benumbed with fatigue and cold. Pitying their condition, the natives lit a huge fire of fagots and brushwood, that they might dry their clothes, and gave them in all respects a friendly welcome. Paul, with that indomitable activity and disregard of self which neither danger nor fatigue could check, was busy among the busiest collecting fuel. He had got together a large bundle of furze–roots,2 and had just put it on the blazing fire, when a viper which had been lying torpid, being suddenly revived and irritated by the heat, darted out of the bundle and “fastened on Paul’s hand.” Seeing the creature hanging from his hand, and observing that he was a prisoner, the simple natives muttered to one another that he must be some murderer, rescued indeed from the waves, but pursued by just vengeance even on land. Paul, quite undisturbed, shook the creature off into the fire, and was none the worse.3 The natives expected that he would suddenly drop dead.4 For a long time they watched him with eager eyes, but when they observed that no unpleasant result of any kind followed, they, like the rude people of Lystra, gradually changed their minds, and said that he was a god.
For three months, until the beginning of February opened the sea to navigation, the crew lived in Malta; and during that time, owing once more to the influence of St. Paul, he and his associates received the utmost kindness. Not far from the scene of the shipwreck lay the town now called Alta Vecchia, the residence of Publius, the governor of the island, who was probably a legate of the Prætor of Sicily. Since Julius was a person of distinction, this Roman official, who bore the title of Protos (“First”)—a local designation, the accuracy of which is supported by inscriptions5—offered to the centurion a genial hospitality, in which Paul and his friends were allowed to share. It happened that at that time the father of Publius was lying prostrated by feverish attacks complicated with dysentery. St. Luke was a physician, but his skill was less effectual than the agency of St. Paul, who went into the sick man’s chamber, prayed by his bedside, laid his hands on him, and healed him. The rumour of the cure spread through the little island, and caused all the sick inhabitants to come for help and tendance. We may be sure that St. Paul, though we do not hear of his founding any Church, yet lost no opportunity of making known the Gospel. He produced a deep and most favourable impression, and was surrounded on all sides with respectful demonstrations. In the shipwreck the crew must have lost all, except what little money they could carry on their own persons; they were therefore in deep need of assistance,6 and this they received abundantly from the love and gratitude of the islanders to whom their stay had caused so many benefits.
Another Alexandrian corn–ship, the CastorandPollux— more fortunate than her shattered consort—had wintered in the harbour of Valetta; and when navigation was again possible, Julius and his soldiers embarked on board of her with their prisoners, and weighed anchor for Syracuse. It was but eighty miles distant, and during that day’s voyage St. Paul would gaze for the first time on the giant cone of Etna, the first active volcano he had ever seen. At Syracuse they waited three days for a more favourable wind. Since it did not come, they made a circuitous tack,7 which brought them to Rhegium. Here again they waited for a single day, and as a south wind then sprang up, which was exactly what they most desired, they sped swiftly through the Straits of Messina, between the chains of snow–clad hills, and after passing on their left the huge and ever–flashing cone of Stromboli, anchored the next day, after a splendid run of 180 miles, in the lovely Bay of Puteoli. The unfurled topsail which marked the Alexandrian corn–ship would give notice of her arrival to the idlers of the gay watering–place, who gathered in hundreds on the mole to welcome with their shouts the vessels which brought the staff of life to the granaries of Rome. Here Paul had the unexpected happiness to find a little Christian Church, and the brethren begged him to stay with them seven days. This enabled them to spend together a Sabbath and a Sunday, and the privilege was granted by the kindly and grateful Julius. Here, then, they rested, in one of the loveliest of earthly scenes, when Vesuvius was still a slumbering volcano, clad to its green summit with vines and gardens. Paul could not have looked unmoved on the luxury and magnificence of the neighbouring towns. There was Baiæ, where, to the indignation of Horace, the Roman nobles built out their palaces into the sea; and where the Cæsar before whose judgment–seat he was going to stand had enacted the hideous tragedy of his mother’s murder, and had fled, pursued by her Furies, from place to place along the shore.8 In sight was Pandataria, and the other distant rocky islets, dense with exiles of the noblest rank, where Agrippa Postumus, the last of the genuine Cæsars, had tried to stop the pangs of famine by gnawing the stuffing of his own mattress, and where the daughter of the great Augustus had ended, in unutterable wretchedness, her life of infamy. Close by was Cumæ, with its Sibylline fame, and Pausilypus, with Virgil’s tomb, and Capreæ, where twenty–three years before Tiberius had dragged to the grave his miserable old age. And within easy distance were the little towns of Pompeii and Herculaneum, little dreaming as yet, in their Greek–like gaiety and many–coloured brilliance, how soon they would be buried by the neighbouring mountain in their total and sulphurous destruction.
Here, free and among brethren, Paul passed seven peaceful days. On the eighth they started for Rome, which was only distant a hundred and forty miles. News of their arrival had reached the brethren, and when they had gone about a hundred miles, past Capua, and through the rich vineyards of Italy, and then through the Pomptine Marshes, Paul and Luke and Aristarchus, among the bargees and hucksters who thronged Appii Forum,9 caught sight of a body of Christians, who had come no less than forty miles to welcome them. Farther than this they could not have come, since there were two ways of reaching Rome from Appii Forum, and the centurion might have preferred the less fatiguing journey by the canal. Ten miles further on, at Tres Tabernæ, they found another group of brethren awaiting them. Though there were a few who loved him at Rome, Paul knew the power, the multitude, and the turbulence of the vast assemblage of synagogues in the great city, and on their favour or opposition much of his future destiny must, humanly speaking, depend. It was natural, therefore, that when he saw the little throng of Christians he should thank God, and take courage from this proof of their affection. Nothing cheered and inspired him so much as human sympathy, and the welcome of these brethren must have touched with the brightness of a happy omen his approach to a city which, greatly as he had longed to see it, he was now to enter under circumstances far more painful than he had ever had reason to expect.
And so through scenes of ever–deepening interest, and along a road more and more crowded with stately memorials, the humble triumph of the Lord’s slave and prisoner swept on. St. Paul had seen many magnificent cities, but never one which was approached by a road so regular and so costly in construction. As they passed each well–known object, the warm–hearted brethren would point out to him the tombs of the Scipios and Cæcilia Metella, and the thousands of other tombs with all their architectural beauty, and striking bas–reliefs and touching inscriptions; and the low seats for the accommodation of travellers at every forty feet; and the numberless statues of the Dei Viales; and the roadside inns, and the endless streams of carriages for travellers of every rank—humble birotae and comfortable rhedae, and stately carpenta—and the lecticae or palanquins borne on the necks of slaves, from which the occupants looked luxuriously down on throngs of pedestrians passing to and from the mighty capital of the ancient world.
“What conflux issuing forth or passing in;
Prætors, Proconsuls to their provinces
Hasting, or on return, in robes of state,
Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power,
Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings;
Or embassies from regions far remote,
In various habits, on the Appian road …
Dusk faces with white silken turbans wreathed.”
How many a look of contemptuous curiosity would be darted at the chained prisoner and his Jewish friends as they passed along with their escort of soldiers! But Paul could bear all this while he felt that he would not be utterly lonely amid the vast and densely–crowded wilderness of human habitations, of which he first caught sight as he mounted the slope of the Alban hills.
Perhaps as they left the Alban hills on the right, the brethren would tell the Apostle the grim annals of the little temple which had been built beside
—“that dim lake which sleeps
Beneath Aricia’s trees,
The trees in whose dim shadow The ghastly priest doth reign,
The priest who slew the slayer
And shall himself be slain.”
And so through ever–lengthening rows of suburban villas, and ever–thickening throngs of people, they would reach the actual precincts of the city, catch sight of the Capitol and the imperial palace, pass through the grove and by the fountain of Egeria, with its colony of begging Jews,10 march past the pyramid of C. Cestius, under the arch of Drusus, through the dripping Capenian gate,11 leave the Circus Maximus on the left, and pass on amid temples, and statues, and triumphal arches, till they reached the Excubitorium, or barracks of that section of the Prætorian cohorts whose turn it was to keep immediate guard over the person of the Emperor. It was thus that the dream of Paul’s life was accomplished, and thus that in March, A.D. 61, in the seventh year of the reign of Nero, under the consulship of Cæsennius Pætus and Petronius Turpilianus, he entered Rome.
Here the charge of the centurion Julius ended, though we can hardly suppose that he would entirely forget and neglect henceforth his noble prisoner, to whom in God’s providence he owed his own life and the safety of the other prisoners entrusted to him. Officially, however, his connexion with them was closed when he had handed them over to the charge of the Præfect of the Prætorian guards. From this time forward, and indeed previously, there had always been two Praefecti Praetorio, but during this year a single person held the power of that great office, the honest and soldierly Afranius Burrus.12 So far, Paul was fortunate, for Burrus, as an upright and humane officer, was not likely to treat with needless severity a prisoner who was accused of no comprehensible charge—of none at any rate which a Roman would consider worth mentioning—and who had won golden opinions both from the Procurators of Judæa and from the centurion who had conducted him from Jerusalem. A vulgar and careless tyrant might have jumped to the conclusion that he was some fanatical Sicarius, such as at that time swarmed throughout Judæa, and so have thrust him into a hopeless and intolerable captivity. But the good word of Julius, and the kindly integrity of Burrus, were invaluable to him, and he was merely subjected to that kind of custodiamilitaris which was known as observatio. For the first three days he was hospitably received by some member of the Christian community,13 and was afterwards allowed to hire a lodging of his own, with free leave to communicate with his friends both by letter and by personal intercourse. The trial of having a soldier chained to him indeed continued, but that was inevitable under the Roman system. It was in mitigation of this intolerable concomitant of his imprisonment that the goodwill of his Roman friends might be most beneficially exercised. At the best, it was an infliction which it required no little fortitude to endure, and for a Jew it would be far more painful than for a Gentile. Two Gentiles might have much in common; they would be interested in common topics, actuated by common principles; but a Jew and Gentile would be separated by mutual antipathies, and liable to the incessant friction of irritating peculiarities. That St. Paul deeply felt this annoyance may be seen from his allusions to his “bonds” or his “coupling–chain” in every Epistle of the captivity. When the first Agrippa had been flung into prison by Tiberius, Antonia, out of friendship for his family, had bribed the Prætorian Prefect Macro to place him under the charge of a kind centurion, and to secure as far as possible that the soldiers coupled to him should be good–tempered men. Some small measure of similar consideration may have been extended to Paul; but the service was irksome, and there must have been some soldiers whose morose and sullen natures caused to their prisoner a terrible torture. Yet even over these coarse, uneducated Gentiles, the courtesy, the gentleness, the “sweet reasonableness” of the Apostle, asserted its humanising control. If he was chained to the soldier, the soldier was also chained to him, and during the dull hours until he was relieved, many a guardsman might be glad to hear from such lips, in all their immortal novelty, the high truths of the Christian faith. Out of his worst trials the Apostle’s cheerful faith created the opportunities of his highest usefulness, and from the necessities of his long–continued imprisonment arose a diffusion of Gospel truths throughout the finest regiment of that army which less than a century later was to number among its contingents a “thundering legion,” and in less than three centuries was to supplant the silver eagles of the empire by the then detested badge of a slave’s torture and a murderer’s punishment.
It was one of the earliest cares of the Apostle to summon together the leading members of the Roman Ghetto, and explain to them his position. Addressing them as “brethren,” he assured them he had neither opposed his people nor contravened their hereditary institutions. In spite of this he had been seized at Jerusalem, and handed over to the Roman power. Yet the Romans, after examining him, had declared him entirely innocent, and would have been glad to liberate him had not the opposition of the Jews compelled him to appeal to Cæsar. But he was anxious to inform them that by this appeal he did not intend in any way to set the Roman authorities against his own nation, and that the cause of the chain he wore was his belief in the fulfilment of that Messianic hope in which all Israel shared.
The reply of the Jews was very diplomatic. Differences within their own pale, connected as we have seen with the name of Christ, had kindled such anger and alarm against them, that less than ten years before this time they had suffered the ruinous indignity of being banished from Rome by an edict of Claudius. That edict had been tacitly permitted to fall into desuetude; but the Jews were anxious not to be again subjected to so degrading an infliction. They therefore returned a vague answer, declaring—whether truthfully or not we cannot say—that neither by letter nor by word of mouth had they received any charge against the Apostle’s character. It was true that, if any Jews had been deputed to carry before Cæsar the accusation of the Sanhedrin, they could only have started at the same time as Julius, and would therefore have been delayed by the same storms. The Jews wished, however, to learn from Paul his particular opinions, for, as he was a professed Christian, they could only say that that sectwaseverywherespokenagainst.14 It is obvious that this answer was meant to say as little as possible. It is inconceivable that the Jews should never have heard anything said against St. Paul; but being keen observers of the political horizon, and seeing that Paul was favourably regarded by people of distinction, they did not choose to embroil themselves in any quarrel with him. Nor does their professed ignorance at all disprove the existence of a Christian community so important as that to which St. Paul had addressed his Epistle to the Romans.15 The Jews could boast of one or two noble proselytes; and it is possible that Pomponia Græcina,16 wife of Plautius, one of the conquerors of Britain, may have been a Christian. But if so she had long been driven into the deepest seclusion,17 and the conversion of the Consular Flavius Clemens, and his wife, Flavia Domitilla, who were martyred by Domitian, did not take place till some time afterwards. The Christian Church was composed of the humblest elements, and probably its Jewish and Gentile members formed two almost distinct communities under separate presbyters.18 Now, with uncircumcised Gentile Christians of the lowest rank the leading Jews would not be likely to hold any intercourse, even if they were aware of their existence. But is it remembered that Rome at this time was a city of more than two million inhabitants? Is there any improbability that, among so many myriads, a small and struggling sect might, to outsiders, remain utterly unknown? The immense weight of the Epistle to the Romans furnishes no proof that the Church to which it was addressed was one which the world would regard as of any importance. The Sandemanians or Glassites are a Christian body in London, and it is quite conceivable that some eminent member of their body, like the late Mr. Faraday, might address to them a letter of deep significance; would it be any sufficient reason to deny their existence if it was found that the Archdeacons and Rural Deans of London had barely so much as heard of their peculiar tenets?
Since, however, the Romish Jews professed a wish for further information, St. Paul begged them to fix their own day to hear what he had to set before them. They came to him in considerable numbers. That only the heads of their community can have been invited is clear. St. Paul’s abode could only have accommodated an insignificant fraction of the Jewish residents, who at this time are believed to have amounted to 60,000. It is said that there were seven synagogues in Rome,19 and the officers of these synagogues would probably be as many as Paul could hope to address at once. All day long, from dawn till evening, he set before them his personal testimony and his scriptural arguments. That they were not wholly unimpressed, appears from the length of the discussion; but while a few were convinced, others disbelieved. The debate acquired towards its conclusion a somewhat stormy emphasis; and before it broke up Paul addressed the dissentients with something of his old fiery energy, applying to them the passage of Isaiah once quoted by our Lord Himself, which said that they should not see nor hear because they wouldnot, and that their blindness and deafness were a penal consequence of the grossness of their hearts. And then he sternly warned them that the salvation of God was now sent to the Gentiles, and that the Gentiles would listen to its gracious offer.20
Henceforth St. Paul took his own line, opening no further communication with his obstinate fellow–countrymen. For two whole years he remained in Rome, a fettered prisoner, but living in his own hired lodging,21 and cheered by the visits of the fellow–workers who were truest and best beloved. The quiet and holy Timotheus perhaps acted as his amanuensis, and certainly shewed him all the tenderness of a son;22 the highly–cultivated Luke was his historiographer and his physician;23 Aristarchus attended him so closely as to earn the designation of his “fellow–prisoner;”24 Tychicus brought him news from Ephesus;25 Epaphroditus warmed his heart by the contributions which showed the generous affection of Philippi;26 Epaphras came to consult him about the heresies which were beginning to creep into the churches of Laodicea, Hierapolis, and Colossæ;27 Mark, dear to the Apostle as the cousin of Barnabas, more than made up for his former defection by his present constancy;28 and Demas had not yet shaken the good opinion which he at first inspired.29 Now and then some interesting episode of his ministry, like the visit and conversion of Onesimus, came to lighten the tedium of his confinement.30 Nor was his time spent fruitlessly, as, in some measure, it had been at Cæsarea. Throughout the whole period he continued heralding the kingdom of God, and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all openness of speech “unmolestedly.”
A wide multi-column table is printed here in the source volume (pages 1075). It does not reflow into a single web column; the readable content of the source table is given elsewhere in this edition.
With that one weighty word ἀκωλύτως, we lose the help of the Acts of the Apostles. From the Epistles of the imprisonment we learn that, chained though he was in one room, even the oral teaching of the Apostle won many converts, of whom some at least were in positions of influence; and that—as soldier after soldier enjoyed the inestimable privilege of being chained to him—not his bonds only, but also his Gospel, became known throughout the whole body of Prætorian guards. But besides this, God overruled these two years of imprisonment in Rome for the benefit of the whole world. Two imprisonments, away from books, away from all public opportunities for preaching, each of two years long, with only a terrible shipwreck interpolated between them—how sad an interruption to most minds would these have seemed to be! Yet in the first of these two imprisonments, if nothing else was achieved, we can perceive that his thoughts were ripening more and more in silent growth; and in that second imprisonment he wrote the letters which have enabled him to exercise a far wider influence on the Church of Christ throughout the world than though he had been all the while occupied in sermons in every synagogue and missionary journeys in every land.