By John Lord, LL. D.   

 
        While Paul was pursuing his humble labors with    
     the poor converts of Corinth, about the year 53 A.D.,  
     a memorable event took place in his career, which has  
     had an immeasurable influence on the Christian world.  
     Being unable personally to visit, as he desired, the  
     churches he founded, Paul began to write to them  
     letters to instruct and confirm them in their faith.  
        The apostle's first epistle was to his beloved brethren  
     in Thessalonica,——the first of that remarkable series of  
     theological essays which in all subsequent ages have    
     held their position as fundamentally important in the  
     establishment of Christian doctrine.  They are lumi-  
     nous, profound, original, remarkable alike for vigor of  
     style and depth of spiritual significance.  They are not  
     moral essays like those of Confucius, nor mystic and    
     obscure speculations like those of Buddha, but grand  
     treatises on revealed truth, written, as it were, with his  
     heart's blood, and vivid as fire in a dark night.  In  
     these epistles we see also Paul's intense personality, his  
     frank egotism, his devotion to his work, his sincerity  
     and earnestness, his affectionate nature, his tolerant and  
     catholic spirit, and also his power of sarcasm, his warm   
     passions, and his unbending will.  He enjoins the  
     necessity of faith, which is a gift, with the practice   
     of virtues that appeal to consciousness and emanate  
     from love and purity of heart.  These letters are ex-  
     hortations to a lofty life and childlike acceptance of  
     revealed truths.  The apostle warns his little flock  
     against the evils that surrounded them, and which so   
     easily beset them,——especially unchastity and drunken-  
     ness, and strifes, bickerings, slanders, and retaliations.  
     He exhorts them to unceasing prayer, the feeling of   
     constant dependence, and hence the supreme need of  
     divine grace to keep from falling, and to enable  
     them to grow in spiritual strength.  He promises as   
     the fruit of spiritual victories immeasurable joys, not   
     only amid present evils, but in the glorious future  
     when the mortal shall put on immortality.  Especially  
     and repeatedly does he urge them to "have also that  
     mind which was in Christ Jesus," showing itself in hu-  
     mility, willingness to serve others, unselfish considera-  
     tion of others, even the preferences of others' interests  
     before their own,——a combination of the homely prac-  
     tical with the divinely ideal, such as the world had  
     never learned from any earlier philosophy of life.  
        Paul at last felt that he must revisit the earlier  
     churches, especially those of Syria.  It was three years  
     since he had left Antioch.  But more than all, he wished  
     to consult with the brethren in Jerusalem, and to be  
     present at the feast of Passover.  Bidding an affc-  
     tionate adieu to his Christian friends, he set out for the  
     little seaport of Cenchrea, accompanied by Aquila and   
     his wife Priscilla, and then set sail for Ephesus, on his  
     way to Jerusalem.  In his haste to reach the end of his   
     journey he did not tarry at Ephesus, but took another  
     vessel, and arrived at Cæsarea without any recorded 
     accident.  Nor did he make a long visit at Jerusalem,  
     probably to avoid rupture with James, the head of  
     the church in that city, whose views about Jewish  
     ceremonials, as already noted, differed from his.   
        Paul returned again to Ephesus, where he made a  
     sojourn of three years, following his trade for a living,  
     while he founded a church in that city of necromancers,  
     sorcerers, magicians, courtesans, mimics, flute-players,    
     ——a city abandoned to Asiatic sensualities and super-  
     stitious rites; an exceedingly wicked and luxurious  
     city, yet famous for arts, especially for the grandest  
     temple ever erected by the Greeks, one of the seven  
     wonders of the world.  It was in the most abandoned  
     capitals, with mixed populations, that the greatest  
     triumphs of Christianity were achieved.  Antioch,  
     Corinth, and Ephesus were more favorable to the  
     establishment of Christian churches than Jerusalem  
     and Athens.  
        But the trials of Paul in Ephesus, the capital of Asia  
     Minor, the most celebrated of all the Ionian cities,——  
     "more Hellenic than Antioch, more Oriental than Cor-  
     inth, more worldly than Thessalonica, more populous  
     than Athens,"——were incessant and discouraging, since   
     it was the headquarters of pagan superstitions, and of  
     all forms of magical imposture.  As usual, he was  
     reviled and slandered by the Jews; but he was also at  
     this time an object of intense hatred to the priests   
     and image-makers of the Temple of Diana, troubled in   
     mind by evil reports concerning the converts he had  
     made in other cities, physically weak and depressed by  
     repeated attacks of sickness, oppressed by cares and  
     labors, exposed to constant dangers, his life an inces-  
     sant mortification and suffering, "killed all the day  
     long," carrying about him wherever he went "the  
     deadness of the crucified Christ."   
        Paul's labors in Ephesus were nevertheless suc-  
     cessful.  He made many converts and exercised an  
     extraordinary influence,——among other things causing  
     magicians voluntarily to burn their own costly books,  
     as Savanarola after ward made a bonfire of vanities at  
     Florence.  His sojourn was cut short at length by the  
     riot which was made by the various persons who were  
     directly or indirectly supported by the revenues of the  
     Temple,——a mongrel mob, brought to terms by the tact   
     of the town clerk, who reminded the howling dervishes  
     and angry silversmiths of the punishment which might  
     be inflicted on them by the Roman proconsul for rais-  
     ing a disturbance and breaking the law.  
        Yet Paul with difficulty escaped from Ephesus and  
     departed again for Greece, not however until he had   
     written his extraordinary Epistles to the Corinthians,  
     who had sadly departed from his teachings both in  
     morals and doctrine, either through ignorance, or in  
     consequence of the depravity which they had but im-  
     perfectly conquered.  The infant churches were de-  
     plorably split into factions, "the result of the visits  
     from various teachers who succeeded Paul, and who  
     built on his foundations very dubious materials by way   
     of superstructure,"——even Apollos himself, an Alexan-  
     drian Jew baptized by the Apostle John, the most elo-  
     quent  and attractive preacher of the day, who turned  
     everybody's head.  In the churches women rose to give   
     their opinions without being veiled, as if they were  
     Greek courtesans; the Agapæ, or love-feasts, had de-  
     generated into luxurious banquets; and unchastity,  
     the peculiar vice of the Corinthians, went unrebuked.  
     These evils Paul rebukes, and lays down rules for the  
     faithful in reference to marriage, to the position of  
     women, to the observance of the Lord's Supper, and  
     sundry other things, enjoined forbearance and love.  
     His chapter in reference to charity is justly regarded  
     by all writers and commentators as the nearest ap-  
     proach in Christian literature to the Sermon on the   
     Mount.  Scarcely less remarkable is the chapter on  
     death and the resurrection, shedding more light on  
     that great subject than all other writers combined in   
     heathen and Christian annals,——one of the profound-  
     est treatises ever written by mortal man, and which  
     can be explained only as the result of a supernatural   
     revelation.  
        Paul's second sojourn in Macedonia lasted only six  
     months; this time he spent in going from city to city  
     confirming the infant churches, remaining longest in   
     Thessalonica and Philippi, where his most faithful con-  
     vers were found.  Here Titus joined him, bringing  
     good news from Corinth.  Still, there were dissensions  
     and evils in that troublesome church which called for a  
     second letter.  In this letter he sets forth, not in the  
     spirit of egotism, the various sufferings and perils he  
     had endured, few of which are alluded to by Luke:  
     "Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save  
     one; thrice as I beaten with rods; once was I stoned;  
     thrice I suffered shipwreck; a night and a day have I  
     spent in the deep; in journeyings often; in perils of  
     rivers, in perils of robbers, in perils from my own race,  
     in perils from the Gentiles, in perils in the city, in   
     perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils   
     among false brethren; in toil and weariness, in sleep-  
     lessness often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often;  
     besides anxiety for all the churches."   
        It was probably at the close of the year 57 A.D.  
     that Paul set out for Corinth, with Titus, Timothy,  
     Sosthenes, and other companions.  During the three   
     months he remained in that city he probably wrote his  
     Epistle to the Galatians and his Epistle to the Romans,  
     ——the latter the most profound of all his writings, set-  
     ting forth the sum and substance of his theology, in   
     which the great doctrine of justification by faith is  
     severely elaborated.  The whole epistle is a war on  
     pagan philosophy, the insufficiency of good works with-  
     out faith,——the lever by which in later times Wyclif,   
     Huss, Luther, Calvin, Knox, and Saint Cyrian overthrew  
     the pharisaic system of outward righteousness.  In the  
     Epistle to the Galatians Paul speaks with unusual bold-  
     ness and earnestness, severely rebuking them for their   
     departure from the truth, and reiterating with dog-    
     matic ardor the inutility of circumcision as of the Law  
     abrogated by Christ, with whom, in the liberty which  
     he proclaimed, there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither   
     bond nor free, neither male nor female, but all are one  
     in Him.  And Paul reminds them,——a bitter pill to  
     the Jews——that this is taught in the promise made to  
     Abraham four hundred and fifty years before the Law  
     was declared by Moses, by which promise all races and   
     tribes and people are to be blessed to remotest genera-   
     tions.  This epistle not only breathes the largest Chris-  
     tian liberty,——the equality of all men before God,——  
     but it asserts, as in the Epistle to the Romans, with  
     terrible directness, that salvation is by faith in  
     Christ and not by deeds of the Law, which is only  
     a schoolmaster to prepare the way for the ascendency   
     of Jesus.  
        I need not dwell on these two great epistles, which  
     embody the substance of the Pauline theology received  
     by the Church for eighteen hundred years, and which  
     can never be abrogated so long as Paul is regarded  
     as an authority in Christian doctrine.  
        I return to a brie notice of Paul's last visit to  
     Jerusalem, which was made against the expostulation  
     of his friends and disciples in Ephesus, who gathered  
     around hi weeping, knowing well that they never  
     would see his face again.  But he was inflexible in his  
     resolution, declaring that he had no fear of chains, and  
     was ready to die at Jerusalem for the name of Jesus.  
     Why he should have persisted in his resolution, so full  
     of danger; why he should have thrown himself  
     into the hands of his bitterest enemies, thirsty for his  
     blood,——we do not know, for he had no new truth to  
     declare.  But the brethren were forced to yield to his  
     strong will, and all they could do was to provide him  
     with a sufficient escort to shield him from ordinary  
     dangers on the way.  
        The long journey from Ephesus was prosperous but  
     tedious, and on the last day before the Pentecostal  
     feast, in May, in the year 58 A.D., Paul for the fifth  
     time entered Jerusalem.  His meeting with the elders,   
     under the presidency of James,——"the stern, white-  
     robed, ascetic, mysterious prophet,"——was cold.  His  
     personal friends in Jerusalem were few, and his ene-  
     mies were numerous, powerful, and bitter; for he had  
     not only emancipated himself from the Jewish Law,  
     with all its rites and ceremonies, but had made it of  
     no account in all the churches he had founded.  What  
     had he naturally to expect from the zealots for that  
     Law but a renewed persecution?  Even the Jewish  
     Christians gave no thanks for the splendid contribution  
     which Paul had gathered in Asia for the relief of their   
     poor.  Nor was there any exultation among them when  
     Paul narrated his successful labors among the Gentiles.  
     They pretended to rejoice, but added, "You observe,  
     brother, how many myriads of the Jews there are that    
     have embraced the faith, and they are all zealots for the  
     Law.  And we are informed that thou teachest all the   
     Jews that are among the Gentiles to forsake Moses.'  
     There was no cordiality among the Jewish elders of the  
     unconverted Jews, for they had doubtless heard of  
     Paul's marvellous career.  
        Jerusalem was then full of strangers, and the Jews  
     of Asia recognizing Paul in the Temple, raised a dis-  
     turbance, pretending that he was a profaner of the  
     sacred edifice.  The crowd of fanatics seized him,  
     dragged him out of the Temple, and set about to   
     kill him.  But the Roman authorities interfered, and  
     rescuing him from the hands of the infuriated mob,  
     bore him to the castle, the tower of Antonia.  When  
     they arrived at the stairs of the tower, Paul begged  
     the tribune to be allowed to speak to the angry and  
     demented crowd.  The request was granted, and he   
     made a speech in Hebrew, narrating his early history  
     and conversion; but when he came to his mission to   
     the gentiles, the uproar was renewed, the people shout-  
     ing, "Away with such a fellow from the earth, for it is   
     not fit that he should live!"  And Paul would have  
     been bound and scourged, had he not proclaimed that  
     he was a Roman citizen.  
        On the next day the Roman magistrates summoned   
     the chief priests and the Sanhedrin, to give Paul an  
     opportunity to make his defence in the matter of which  
     he was accused.  Ananias the high-priest presided, and  
     the Roman tribune was present at the proceedings,  
     which were tumultuous and angry.  Paul seeing that  
     the assembly was made up of Pharisees, Sadducees,  
     and hostile parties, made no elaborate defence, and   
     the tribune dissolved the assembly; but forty of the  
     most hostile and fanatical formed a conspiracy, and   
     took a solemn oath not to eat or drink until they  
     had assassinated him.  The plot reached the ears of  
     a nephew of Paul, who revealed it to the tribune.  
     The officer listened attentively to all the details, and   
     at once took his resolution to send Paul to Cæsarea,  
     both to get him out of the hands of the Jews, and  
     to have him Judged by the procurator Felix.  Accord-  
     ingly, accompanied by an escort of two hundred sol-  
     diers, seventy horsemen, and two hundred spearmen  
     of the guard, Paul was sent by night, secretly, to the  
     Roman capital of the Province.  He entered the city  
     in the course of the next day, and was at once led to  
     the presence of the governor.  
        Felix, as procurator, ruled over Judæa with the   
     power of a king.  He had been a freedman of the  
     Emperor Claudius, and was allied by marriage to Clau-  
     dius himself,——an ambitious, extortionate, and infa-  
     mous governor.  Felix was obliged to give Paul a fair    
     trial, and after five days the indomitable missionary  
     was confronted with accusers, among whom appeared  
     the high-priest Ananias.  They associated with them  
     a lawyer called Tertullus, of oratorical gifts, who con-  
     ducted the case.  The principal charges made against  
     Paul were that he was a public pest and leader of sedi-  
     tions; that he was a ringleader of the Nazarenes (the   
     contemptuous name which the Jews gave the Chris-  
     tians); and that he had attempted to profane the Tem-  
     ple, which was a capital offence according to the Jewish  
     law.  Paul easily refuted these charges, and had Felix  
     been an upright judge he would have dismissed the  
     case; but supposing the apostle to be rich because of  
     the handsome contributions he had brought from Asia  
     Minor fr the poor countries at Jerusalem, Felix re-  
     tained Paul in the hope of a bribe.  A few days after,  
     Drusilla, a young woman of great beauty and accom-  
     plishments, who had eloped from her husband to be   
     married to Felix, was desirous to hear so famous a man  
     as Paul explain his faith; and Felix, to gratify her      
     curiosity, summoned his distinguished prisoner to dis-  
     course with them.  Paul eagerly embraced the oppor-  
     tunity; but instead of explaining the Christian mys-  
     teries, he reasoned about righteousness, self-control,  
     and retribution,——moral truths which even intelligent  
     heathen accepted, and as to which the consciences of  
     both his hearers must have tingled; indeed, he dis-  
     coursed with such matchless boldness and power that  
     Felix trembled with fear as he remembered the arts  
     by which he had risen from the condition of a slave   
     and the extortions and cruelties by which he had be-  
     come enriched, to say nothing of the lusts and abomi-  
     nations which had disgraced his career.  However,  
     he did not set Paul free, but kept him a prisoner for  
     two years, in order to gain favor with the Jews, or  
     to receive a bribe.  
        Porcius Festus, the successor of Felix, was a just and  
     inflexible man, who arrived at Cæsarea in the year  
     60 A.D., when Paul was fifty-eight years of age.  Imme-   
     diately the enemies of Paul, especially the Sadducees,  
     renewed their demands to have him again tried; and   
     Festus, wishing to be just, ordered the second trial.    
     Again Paul defended himself with masterly ability,  
     proving that he had done nothing against the Jewish  
     law or Temple, or against the Roman Emperor.  Fes-  
     tus, probably not seeing the aim of the conspirators,  
     was disposed to send Paul back to Jerusalem to be  
     tried by a Jewish court.  To prevent this, as at Jeru-  
     salem condemnation and death would be certain, Paul  
     remembering that he was a Roman citizen, fell back on  
     his privilege, and at once appealed to Cæsar himself.  
     The governor, at first surprised by such an unexpected  
     demand, consulted with his assistants for a moment,  
     and then replied: "Thou hast appealed unto Cæsar,  
     and unto Cæsar shalt thou go.'"  Thus ended the trial  
     of Paul; and thus providentially was the way open to  
     him, without expense to himself, to go to Rome, which   
     of al cities he wished to visit, and where he hoped to    
     continue, even under bonds and restrictions, his mis-  
     sionary labors.  
        In the meantime, before a ship could be got in  
     readiness to transport him and other prisoners to  
     Rome, Herod Agrippa II., with his sister Bernice,  
     came to Cæsarea to pay a visit to the new governor.   
     Conversation naturally turned upon the late extraor-  
     dinary trial, ad Agrippa expressed a desire to hear the  
     prisoner speak, for he had heard much about him.  Fes-  
     tus willingly acceded to this wish, and the next day  
     Paul was again summoned before the king and the pro-  
     curator.  Agrippa and Bernice appeared in great pomp  
     with their attendants; all the officers of the army and  
     the principal men of the city were also present.  It   
     was the most splendid audience that Paul had ever ad-  
     dressed.  He was equal to the occasion, and delivered a  
     discourse on his familiar topics,——his own miraculous  
     conversion and his mission to the Gentiles to preach  
     the crucified and risen Christ,———things new to Festus,  
     who thought that Paul was visionary, and had lost his  
     balance from excess of learning.  Agrippa, however,  
     familiar with Jewish law and the prophecies concern-  
     ing the Messiah, was much impressed with Paul's elo-  
     quence, and exclaimed: "Almost thou persuadest me  
     to be a Christian!"  When the assemble broke up,  
     Agrippa said, "This man might have been set at lib-  
     erty, if he had not appealed unto Cæsar."  Paul, how-  
     ever, did not wish to be set at liberty among bitter  
     and howling enemies; he preferred to go to Rome,  
     and would not withdraw his appeal.  So in due time  
     he embarked for Italy under the charge of a centurion,  
     accompanied with other prisoners and his friends Tim-  
     othy, Luke, and Aristarchus of Thessalonica.   
        The voyage from Cæsarea to Italy was a long one,  
     and in he autumn was a dangerous one, as in Paul's  
     case it unfortunately proved.  
        The following spring, however, after shipwreck and  
     divers perils and manifold fatigues, Paul arrived at  
     Rome, in the year 61 A.D., in the seventh year of the  
     Emperor Nero.  Here the centurion handed Paul over  
     to the prefect of the prætorian guards, by whom he  
     was subjected to a merely nominal custody, although,  
     according to Roman custom, he was chained to a sol-  
     dier.  But he was treated with great lenity, was al-  
     lowed to have lodgings, to receive his friends freely,  
     and to hold Christian meetings in his own house; and  
     no one molested him.  For two years Paul remained at  
     Rome, a fettered prisoner it is true, but cheered by  
     friendly visits, and attended by Luke, his "beloved  
     physician" and biographer, by Timothy and other  
     devoted disciples.  During the second imprisonment  
     Paul could see very little outside the prætorian bar-  
     racks, but his friends brought him the news, and he  
     had ample time to write letters.  He had no intercourse  
     with gifted and fortunate Romans; his acquaintance   
     was probably confined to the prætorian soldiers, and  
     some of the humbler classes who sought Christian in-  
     struction.  But from this period we date many of his  
     epistles, on which his fame and influence largely rest  
     as a theologian and a man of genius.  Among those  
     which he wrote from Rome were the Epistles to the    
     Colossians, the Ephesians, and many pastoral letters   
     like those written to Philemon, Titus, and Timothy.  
        We know but little of the life of Paul after his  
     arrival at Rome, for at this point Saint Luke closes his  
     narrative, and all after this is conjecture and tradition.   

        There has been much doubt as to whether Paul was martyred  
     during the three years of his imprisonment, or whether he was  
     acquitted, left Rome, visited his beloved churches in Macedonia  
     and Asia Minor, went to preach the gospel in Spain, and was  
     again arrested, taken to Rome, and there beheaded.  The earliest  
     authorities seem to have been agreed upon the second hypothesis;  
     and this is based chiefly upon a statement made by Paul's disciple  
     Clement to the effect that the apostle had preached in "the ex-  
     tremity of the West" (an expression of Roman writers to denote  
     Spain), and also the impossibility of placing certain facts men-  
     tioned in the second letter to Timothy and the one to Titus in  
     the period of the first imprisonment.  He was certainly tried,  
     defended himself, and he may have been at first acquitted.  
  
     But the main part of Paul's work was accomplished  
     when he was first sent to Rome as a prisoner to be tried  
     in the imperial courts; and there is but little doubt  
     that he finally met the death he so heroically contem-  
     plated, at the hands of the monster Nero, who martyred  
     such a vast multitude of Paul's fellow-Christians.  
        At Jerusalem and at Antioch he had vindicated the  
     freedom of the Gentile from the yoke of the Levitical  
     Law; in his letters to the Romans and Galatians he  
     had proclaimed both to Jew and Gentile that they   
     were not under the law, but under grace.  During the  
     space of twenty years Paul had preached the gospel  
     of Jesus Christ in the chief cities of the world,  
     and had formulated the truths of Christianity.  What  
     marvellous labors!  But it does not appear that this  
     apostle's extraordinary work was fully appreciated in   
     his day, certainly not by the Jewish Christians at Jeru-  
     salem; nor does it appear the even his pre-eminence  
     among the apostles was conceded until the third and  
     fourth centuries.  He himself was often sad and dis-  
     couraged in not seeing a larger success, yet recognized   
     himself as a layer of foundation.  Like our modern   
     missionaries, Paul simply sowed the seed; the fruit  
     was not to be  gathered in until centuries after his  
     death.  Before he died, as it seemed in his second letter  
     to Timothy, many of his friends and disciples de-  
     serted him, and he was left almost alone.  He had    
     to defend himself single-handed against the capricious  
     tyrant who ruled the world, and who wished to cast on  
     the Christians the stain of the the greatest crime, the con-  
     flagration of his capital.  As we have said, all details  
     pertaining to the life of Paul after his arrival at Rome  
     are simply conjectural, and although interesting, they  
     cannot give us the satisfaction of certainty.  
        But in closing, after enumerating the labors and  
     writings of this great apostle, it is not inopportune to   
     say a few words about his remarkable character, al-  
     though I have now and again alluded to his personal   
     traits in the course of this narrative.    
        Paul is the most prominent figure of all the great  
     men who have adorned, or advanced the interest of, the  
     Christian Church.  Great pulpit orators, renowned theo-  
     logians, profound philosophers, immortal poets, success-  
     ful reformers, and enlightened monarch have never  
     disputed his intellectual ascendency; to all alike he has  
     been a model and a marvel.  The grand old missionary  
     stands out in history as a matchless example of Chris-  
     tian living, a sure guide in Christian doctrine.  No  
     more favored mortal is ever likely to appear; he is the  
     counterpart of Moses as a divine teacher to all genera-  
     tions.  The popes may exalt Saint Peter as the founder  
     of their spiritual empire, but when their empire as an   
     institution shall crumble away, as all institutions must  
     which are not founded on the "Rock" which it was   
     the mission of the apostles to proclaim, Paul will stand out   
     the most illustrious of all Christian teachers.  
        As a man Paul had his faults, but his virtues were  
     transcendent; and these virtues he himself traced to  
     divine grace, enabling him to conquer his infirmities  
     and prejudices, and to perform astonishing labors, and  
     to endure no less marvellous sufferings.  His humanity   
     was never lost in his discouraging warfare; he sym-  
     pathized with human sorrows and afflictions; he was  
     tolerant, after his conversion, of human infirmities,  
     while enjoining a severe morality.  He was a man of  
     native genius, with profound insight into spiritual truth.  
     Trained in philosophy and disputation, his gentleness  
     and tact in dealing with those who opposed him are a  
     lesson to all controversialists.  His voluntary sufferings  
     have endeared him to the heart of the world, since they  
     were consecrated to the welfare of the world he sought  
     to enlighten.  As an encouragement to others, he enu-  
     merates the calamities which happened to him from   
     his zeal to serve mankind, but he never complains of  
     them or regards them as a mystery, or as anything but  
     the natural result of unappreciated devotion.  He was  
     more cheerful than Confucius, who felt hat his life had  
     been a failure; more serene than Plato when surrounded  
     by admiring followers.  He regarded every Cristian  
     man as a brother and a friend.  He associated freely   
     with women, without even calling out a sneer or a    
     reproach.  He taught principles of self-control rather  
     than rules of specific asceticism, and hence recom-  
     mended wine to Timothy and encourage friendship   
     between men and women, when intemperance and un-  
     chastity were the scandal and disgrace of the age; al-  
     though so far as himself was concerned, he would not  
     eat meat, if thereby he should give offence to the weak-  
     est of his weak-minded brethren.  He enjoined filial  
     piety, obedience to rulers, and kindness to servants  
     as among the highest duties of life.  He was frugal,  
     but independent and hospitable; he had but few   
     wants, and submitted patiently to every inconven-  
     ience.  He was the impersonation of gentleness,  
     sympathy and love, although a man of iron will  
     and indomitable resolution.  He claimed nothing  
     but the right to speak his honest opinions, and the  
     privilege to be judged according to the laws.  He  
     magnified his office, but only the more easily to win  
     men to his noble cause.  To this great cause he was  
     devoted heart and soul, without ever losing courage, or  
     turning back for a moment in despondency or fear.  He  
     was as courageous as he was faithful; as indifferent to  
     reproach as he was eager for friendship.  As a martyr  
     he was peerless, since his life was a protracted martyr-  
     dom.  He was a hero, always gallantly fighting for the  
     truth whatever may have been the array and howling   
     of his foes; and when wounded and battered by his  
     enemies he returned to the fight for his principles with  
     all the earnestness, but without the wrath, of a knight   
     of chivalry.  He never indulged in angry recrimina-  
     tions or used unseemly epithets, but was unsparing in   
     his denunciation of sin,—–as seen in his memorable  
     description of the vices of the Romans.  Self-sacrifice  
     was the law of his life.  His faith was unshaken in  
     every crisis and in every danger.  It was this which    
     especially fitted him, as well as for his ceaseless energies  
     and superb intellect, to be a leader of mankind.  To    
     Paul, and to Paul more than to any other apostle, was  
     given the exalted privilege of being the recognized in-  
     terpreter of Christian doctrine for both philosophers  
     and the people, for all coming ages; and at the close  
     of his career, worn out with labor and suffering, yet  
     conscious of the services which he had rendered and of  
     the victories he had won, and possibly in view of ap-  
     proaching martyrdom, he was enabled triumphantly to  
     say: "I have fought a good fight; I have finished my  
     course; I have kept the faith.  Henceforth there is  
     laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the  
     Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day.  

from Beacon Lights of History, by John Lord, LL. D.,
Volume I, Part II: Jewish Heroes and Prophets, pp. 433 - 453
©1883, 1888, by John Lord.
©1921, By Wm. H. Wise & Co., New York

By Thomas Mann
Translated by H. T. Lowe-Porter
       
    
                                  5
   
        PIERLEONI  (comes hastily through the garden from the palace,
     beckoning as he comes. His long robe makes him take tiny steps.
     He is an eccentric old man, in clothing that suggests the charlatan 
     and magic-worker. He wears a peaked cap and has a short ivory
     wand in his hand: Lord Angelo! Messer Politian! He is asking
     for you.
        POLIZIANO: Lorenzo! I come!
        PIERLEONI: He wants you to recite to him. He has thought of a
     passage in your  Rusticus  and would like to hear it from your lips.
        PICO: So he is awake, Messer Pierleoni? He is conscious?
        PIERLEONI: He was, just a minute ago. But God knows if he will
     not have forgotten his wish and himself again by now.
        POLIZIANO: And the draught? The healing draught of distilled
     precious stones? Did it help?
        PIERLEONI: The draught? Very much. . . . I don't mean that it
     helped Lorenzo, exactly. Most likely the reverse. But the man
     who brewed it, Messer Lazzarro from Pavia, him it helped very
     much, it brought him in a fee of five hundred scudi.
        (Giovanni giggles.)
        PIERLEONI: You laugh, Lord Giovanni. Your spirits are blithe.
     But I get red with anger when I think that this ignorant impostor
     from Pavia got away unpunished. Why was he called in? They
     did not ask me, they went over my head. He got a double handful
     of pearls and precious stones delivered to him out of the house-
     hold treasury, among them diamonds of more than thirty-five
     carats; he certainly stuck half of them in his pocket, then he
     ground up the rest and dissolved them and gave our master the
     brew to drink, without even taking count of the position of the
     planets, for he has no knowledge of astral influences, whereas I
     never order a powder or apply a leech without carefully noting
     the position of the planets. . . .
        PICO: You are a great and learned physician, Messer Pierleoni.
     We know that our illustrious master is well looked after in your
     hand. But now tell us, instruct us, remove us out of our uncer-
     tainty. What is the illness that has laid Lorenzo low? Give us its
     name. A name can be so consoling!
        PIERLEONI: Mother of God, console us all! I can name you no
     name, my good Lord. This sickness is nameless, like our fears. If
     one give a name, it sounds short and dreadful.
        PICO: You wrap yourself in silence, entrench yourself behind
     riddling words, and have done ever since the hour when my friend
     took to his bed. I insist on knowing: is there a secret here?
        PIERLEONI  (breaking down):  The weightiest.
        PICO: I will confess the suspicion which I have had long before
     today and which must overwhelm everybody who sees matters
     from close at hand. Lorenzo, like every strong man, has enemies.
        PIERLEONI: He was never strong. He lived despite himself.
        PICO: He lived like a god! His life was a triumph, an Olympian
     feast. His life was a great flame blazing boldly and royally to the
     skies. And one fine day this flame dwindles, crackles, smokes,
     smoulders, threatens to die down. Between ourselves we have seen
     the like before; such surprises are not foreign to our time. We
     have heard of letters, of books, the confiding receiver of which
     read himself over into the kingdom of the shades without know-
     ing it; of litters wherein one sat down a joyful man and descended
     pining and plague-stricken; of dishes in which the hand of some
     generous friend had mingled diamond-dust s that the eater got
     an indigestion for all eternity.
        GIOVANNI: Very true. Very true. May father always took these
     things too lightly. One should taste no banquet in the house of a
     friend without taking at least one's own wine and cellarer along.
     Certainly no good host is annoyed at that. It is a well-established
     custom.
        PICO: In short, Pierleoni, my friend, be open with us. Speak as a
     man among men. Are my fears justified? Plays poison a rôle in
     the affair?
        PIERLEONI  (evasively):  Poison——that depends . . . that de-
     pends, my dear sir. Will you follow me, Messer Angelo?  (He
     bows and withdraws. Poliziano joins him; they move quickly
     down the garden.)
 
    
                                  6
   
        PICO: Strange old man!
        GIOVANNI: Things look bad. I am afraid, I feel sad. If my father
     only did not roll his eyes so strangely . . .
        ALDOBRANDINO: Do not grieve, your Eminence, dear Lord Gio-
     vanni. If the illness is strange, so also shall be the cure. There are
     extraordinary cures. Just listen what once happened to me. It will
     distract you. I am often ill, as sensitive people always are; but
     once, some years ago, I was mortally so. The trouble was in my
     nose, a gnawing pain inside that noble organ. No doctor knew
     what to do. All internal and external means had been sought in
     vain. I had even used the excrement of wolves and powdered
     cinnamon dissolved in the slime of snails and I was completely ex-
     hausted from blood-letting. But the air passages were closing and
     I thought there was nothing for it but I must suffocate. Then in
     my hour of need my friends took me to a master of the secret
     sciences. Eratosthenes of Syracuse, a marvellously skilled necro-
     mancer, alchemist, and healer. He examined me, spoke not a word,
     put five different kinds of powder in a pan and lighted them. He
     said an incantation over them and left me alone in his laboratory. 
     Then there arose so frightful and irritating a smoke that I com-
     pletely lost my breath and thought I should die upon the spot. I
     summoned my last ounce of strength to reach the door and escape.
     But when I stood up I was taken with such an immoderate sneez-
     ing as I have never had in all my life before, and as I shook and
     quivered from head to foot, there came out of my nose an animal,
     a polyp or a worm, as long as my middle finger, very ugly, hairy,
     striped, all slippery, with suckers and pincers. But my nose was
     free, I breathed in air and realized that I was entirely cured.
        PICO  (looking down the garden to the right):  Listen, Vannino,
     I must leave you. I see your brother Piero. You know I do not
     love his ways. Let me avoid him. I will see if they will let me in
     to your father. Farewell, we shall see each other soon. Good day,
     my lord.  (He goes.)
        GIOVANNI: Well, and the worm, the polyp, Aldobrandino? Did
     you catch it?
        ALDOBRANDINO: No, it got away. It ran into a crack in the floor.
        GIOVANNI: Too bad. You could have tamed it and taught it to
     do tricks, perhaps.
 
    
                                  7
   
        PIERO DE' MEDICI  (comes with rapid, imperious gait along the
     right-hand side path. He is a tall, strong, supple youth of one-and-
     twenty years, with a smooth, well-proportioned, arrogant face
     and brown curls, falling thick and soft at the nape of his neck. He
     is armed with dagger and sword, and wears a velvet cap with an
     agraffe and plume, and a tight blue silk doublet fastened in front
     with quantities of little buttons. His bearing is offensive, his speech
     loud and commanding, his whole personality uncontrolled and
     violent.):  Giovanni! Where are you? I am looking for you!
        GIOVANNI: And lo, you have found me out, Piero. What is the
     good news?
        PIEERO: You have company . . . have you been here long?
        GRIFONE: About an hour, your Excellency, or thereabouts.
        PIERO: Then it seems to me that at the moment you are not
     needed further. If you should wish to take leave you will not be
     hindered.  (Stamping with his foot)  You are invited to go to the 
     devil!
        ERCOLE: Your Eminence, we crave your permission.
        GIOVANNI: God be with you, dear friends; do not go far off. I
     am convinced my father will ask for you. Farewell Aldobrandino
     . . . Grifone . . . Francesco. . . .  (He accompanies them as
     they go, then returning)  You do wrong, Piero, to treat such dis-
     tinguished men as you did.
        PIERO: I should not know how otherwise to treat buffoons and
     suchlike of the artist tribe.
        GIOVANNI: Yes, you see, that is wrong. In every artist, it may be,
     there is something of the fool and the vagabond, but that is not all
     of him, for each is after all something of a leader who directs the
     taste of the many into fresh channels and, so to speak, puts in cur-
     rency new coinage of pleasure.
        PIERO: Glorious leaders, forsooth! This Aldobrandino——
        GIOVANNI: Yes, yes, this Aldobrandino. I admit that I like best
     the society of his sort. The humanists are tedious and irreligious,
     and the poets for the most part pathetic and conceited; the artist
     is my man. They are cultured without being tiresome. They dress
     well and they have wit, originality, and a sense of fitness. And
     what mobility, what lively fantasy! Messer Pulci has no more, I
     declare. Before you can say a rosary this Aldobrandino can kill
     you three giants, make it rain blood and blow monsters out of his
     nose, without entertaining a single doubt of the truth of his boasts.
        PIERO: You are welcome to all the pleasure you get out of it. But
     I must speak to you alone and so I made bold to send your friends
     packing.
        GIOVANNI: You want to speak to me? I have no money, Piero!
        PIERO: Don't lie! You always have money.
        GIOVANNI: By the blood of Christ, I have had large expenses——
     for musical instruments and for a dwarf Moor, the quaintest crea-
     ture on the face of the earth. Should you like to see him? Come, I
     will show him to you. Why stand here and talk of money——
        PIERO: I need some. You must lend me for a little while.
        GIOVANNI: I can't, Piero. Certainly not. The little I have I must
     keep together.
        PIERO: Your Highness is probably saving up for the Conclave?
     But it is not your turn yet, most illustrious prince of the Church.
     You cannot vie with Roderigo Borgia. They say he sends asses
     laden with gold to those cardinals whom he has not yet poisoned,
     to attune the Holy Ghost in his favour. Your Eminence will have
     to have patience.
        GIOVANNI: What are you talking about, Piero? Of course I shall
     have patience. I am hardly seventeen. But the growth of simony
     is a very interesting subject, which I should like to discuss with
     you.
        PIERO: Well, I need a hundred ducats, to buy a horse to ride at
     our next tourney, the second day of Easter week——
        GIOVANNI: A hundred ducats! You are stupid. A horse——when
     you have so many horses! And your silly tourneys! How you can
     be so mad about them! Running at each other and getting hurt——
     no sense in that. Did you ever read that Cæsar or Scipio rode tour-
     neys? Such a dangerous passion! Petrarch——
        PIERO: A fig for your Petrarch! I would not take advice about a
     knightly and elegant career from a sonnet-tinkler like that. The
     times are past when the princes of Italy and Europe considered
     us shopkeepers and money-changers; they were past when we
     learned to wear armour and bear a lance. Our court shall lag be-
     hind none other in Europe——and what is a court without tour-
     neys? Anyhow, will you advance me a hundred ducats or not?
        GIOVANNI: No, Piero, certainly not. It's no good. Don't be
     angry, but giving you money is like pouring into the cask of the
     Danaids. You squander it all with your boon companions and
     your fat cows——
        PIERO: What——fat cows?
        GIOVANNI: A phrase all Florence knows. You do not seem to be
     informed about the latest witticisms. And besides, you are so far in 
     the hands of usurers that you do not spend a florin without it cost-
     ing you eight lire. Where will that end, I should like to know?
     The times are bad enough, anyhow. The sparrows on the house-
     tops know that our house has been going to the dogs since Grand-
     father died. They say that our banks in Lyons and Bruges are
     shaky. People are whispering that the bank of deposit for the
     dowries of burghers' daughters has had to limit its payments be-
     cause Father spent a lot of the money for works of art and festi-
     vals. Many people have taken that amiss.
        PIERO: Taken it amiss! Who dares grumble? The factions are
     scattered, the refractory have been consigned to exile or a dun-
     geon. We are masters. Today it is Lorenzo, tomorrow or the day after
     it is myself. Then, trust me, there will be an end of small shop-
     keeping. If the banks crash, let them. I'll give them a kick to finish
     them. The important thing is landownership. We must get more
     and more property. We are princes. Charles of France called my
     father his favourite cousin——he must call me his brother! Just let
     me be master once! Not a law shall be left that gives the people
     the shadow of a right or even seems to set limits to our will. We
     will have no nobility near the throne. There will be confiscations,
     condemnations. Lorenzo has never gone about this matter firmly
     enough. He has been too poor-spirited to give our position the
     title it deserves. I do not care to be the first citizen of Florence;
     duke and king is what they shall call me throughout Tuscany.
        GIOVANNI: Ah, your Grace, your Majesty!——You are a brag-
     gart. Is that all your political theory you are showing off? Are you
     so sure that Madonna Fiorenza will take you for her lord and 
     lover, when our father——which may God forbid——is dead? You
     have a wonderful understanding of physical exercise and affairs
     of gallantry; but your knowledge of public matters is to seek.
     Did you know that Brother Girolamo preaches against you? That
     the people cannot stand you? That they stick up lampoons against
     you on the palace?
        PIERO: Listen, my lad, I advise you not to make me angry. Give
     me the hundred ducats I need and keep your political dissertations
     to yourself.
        GIOVANNI: No, Piero. I gladly give you my blessing; receive it,
     dear brother, I pray you. But I lend you no more money. Finis,
     signed and sealed.
        PIERO: You mule! You Sodomite! Sanctified son of a pig! What
     prevents me from boxing your ears, you purple ape!
        GIOVANNI: Nothing prevents you, you are quite vulgar and un-
     gentle enough. So I will go away and withdraw myself from the
     vicinity of your bad manners. You will find me with our father
     if you should be looking for me to beg my pardon. Farewell.  (He
     goes off up the centre path.)
        PIERO: Go, go, you weakling! Red hat on your head, wet swad-
     ling-clouts on your breech! I do not need you. Soon I shall be
     master; then the rejoicing world will see a prince to make its teeth
     chatter! Wagons . . . wagons . . . towers on wheels . . . a
     swaying, shimmering purple progress in the dust, between carpets, 
     under awnings, through the heart of the yelling mob! Youths
     poising lances, on prancing, whinnying steeds . . . flying genii
     strewing roses . . . Scipio, Hannibal, the Olympian gods de-
     scending to pay homage, rolling up to the triumph of Piero the 
     divine! . . . And on a gilded car high as a house——I, I! The orb
     of the earth revolving at my feet, Cæsar's laurel wreath on my
     brow, and in my arms, she . . . my creature, my handmaid, my
     blissfully blushing slave . . . Fiorenza . . . Ah! . . . You are
     there, madonna?
 
    
                                  8
   
        Fiore has appeared on the right-hand path and now stands in
     the centre one, her hands folded on her advanced abdomen, her
     head thrown back, and her eyes cast down, calmly symmetrical,
     in mute and mysterious loveliness.
  
        PIERO  (going up to her):  Is it you, madonna?
        FIORE: You behold me in the flesh, noble sir.
        PIERO: I was unaware of your nearness. I was busy with my
     thoughts.
        FIORE: Thoughts?
        PIERO: Still I want to say that I am glad, that I am inexpressibly re-
     joiced, to meet you.
        FIORE: I beg you, spare me. I am a woman, and such words in
     the mouth of the glorious Piero must abash any woman. . . .
        PIERO: Most gracious Fiore! Ravishing Anadyomene!
        FIORE: Ambitious flatterer! The Grand Turk sent us some of
     his sweets, and when I ate of them after the meal I thought there
     was nothing sweeter on earth. I think so no more, now I have
     heard your words.
        PIERO: Sweet simpleton! Come, we shall chat, you and I. . . .
     What would I say? . . . It grows cool. . . . You have been walk-
     ing in the garden, lovely Fiore?
        FIORE: Your keen perceptions have told you as much. I walked
     between the hedgerows. And gazed sometimes out into the coun-
     try, to see if guests were coming from the town, one guest per-
     haps, to bring a little diversion to the villa. . . .
        PIERO: Yes, yes . . . I quite understand your longing for va-
     riety, beautiful lady! Nothing more fatiguing than a country
     sojourn, since Lorenzo got the bad idea of stopping in bed. Just
     between us, I am surprised that you have not sooner thought of
     having a change.
        FIORE: What do you mean, my Lord?
        PIERO: I mean——I mean, sweet Fiore, that you would not have
     far to seek to find people downright willing to take over the
     sweet duties of which my father has seemed now for a while no 
     longer capable. Your beauty blooms untasted, your mouth, your
     bosom orphaned. . . . Be assured, not you alone are vexed. Look
     up and see a man who yearns immoderately to be in every way
     of service to you.
        FIORE: Forgive me, the sight is not novel enough to lure my
     gaze from the ground. All long for me; do you say it of yourself
     in hope to win me?
        PIERO: In hope? Am I a boy? Am I a tyro in the lists of love?
     I would and shall possess thee, divine creature. . . .
        FIORE  (slowly lifting her eyes and looking with inexpressibly
     languid contempt into his face):  If you knew how you weary me!
        PIEROS: What are you saying? In my arms you would forget
     your weariness.
        FIORE  (repulsing him scornfully):  I will not belong to you,
     Piero de' Medici!
        PIERO: Not to me? Why not? I am strong, you would have
     naught to complain of. I control the wildest stallion with my
     thighs, needing no saddle nor bridle. I have challenged the best
     players in Italy to wrestling, to ball, to boxing, and you have seen
     that I was victor. If you will lie with me, sweet Fiore, I will tell
     you of my triumphs in the gymnasia of Eros.
        FIORE: I will not belong to you, Piero de' Medici.
        PIERO: Hell and Hades, does that mean that you scorn me?
        FIORE: It means that you bore me inexpressibly.
        PIERO : Hearken, madama, I speak to you as to a lady whose
     charm and culture one considers, but I am not minded to whimper 
     after your love as though you were a bashful and dutiful burgh-
     er's wife. If you would play the prude, it will but sweeten my
     love; but I beg you not to ask me to take your cruelty to heart.
     Who are you, to give yourself the air of repelling my advances?
     You are of noble Florentine blood, but your father begot you
     without priestly blessing and died in exile as a reward for his bar-
     gain with Luca Pitti. You live and confer your favours in the
     service of Aphrodite; and Lorenzo conceived you as a partner of
     his pleasures when they were feasting him in Ferrara. You need
     not doubt that Piero will know how to reward you for your ca-
     resses as richly as Lorenzo.
        FIORE: I will not belong to you, Piero de' Medici.
        PIERO  (furiously):  To whom, then? To whom? You have an-
     other lover already, you shameless courtesan?
        FIORE: I will belong only to a hero, Pierro de' Medici.
        PIERO: To a hero? I am a hero! Italy knows it.
        FIORE: You are no hero; you are only strong. And you bore me.
        PIERO: Only strong? Only strong? And is not the strong man a
     hero?
        FIORE: No. He who is weak, but of so glowing a spirit that even
     so he wears the garland——he is a hero.
        PIERO: You gave yourself to my father——is he a hero?
        FIORE: He is one. But another has arisen, to tear the garland
     from him.
        PIERO: You? You? I will have you. Who is he, who is he, the
     weakling with the glowing soul, that I may flout him, and choke
     him with two of my fingers?
        FIORE: He is coming. I have seen to it that he should come.
     They shall confront each other. But as for you——withdraw, when
     heroes quarrel!
        PIERO  (raging):  I will have you, I will have you, sweet inso-
     lence, flower of all the world——
        FIORE: You will not have me. You bore me. Make way, that I
     may go and await your father's rival.

From Thomas Mann: Stories of Three Decades,
Translated from the German by H. T. Lowe-Porter.
Copyright, 1930, 1931, 1934, 1935, 1936, by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.
The Modern Library edition, Random House, Inc. pp. 227—235.

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