The Close of Peter's Life

Much that is conjectural. His probable age. Grounds fob believing that he wa8 taken a prisoner to bomb. nero

AND THE CONFLAGRATION OF THE CITY. THE MaMERTINE.

“Domine Quo Vadis?” His trial and crucifixion. San Pietro in Montorio. His place of sepulture. Conclusion.

“The time for toil is past, and night has come,
The last and closing of the harvest eves:
Worn out with labour long and wearisome,
Drooping and faint the reapers hasten home,
Each laden with his sheaves,**

“Let ns come to the champions of our times; Peter having suffered martyrdom went to his deserved place of glory.”

—Clement.

“Peter appears to have preached in Pontus and Galatia and Bithyuia, Cappadocia and Asia, to the Jews in the Dispersion. He also in the end being at Borne was crucified.” — Origen.

“What a happy Church is that on which the Apostles poured out all their doctrine with their blood! where Peter had a like Passion with the Lord.” — Tertulliaru

“It may be permitted us, until the day when all shall be known, to follow the cherished associations of all Christendom, — to trace still in the Mamertine prison and the Vatican the last days on earth of him to whom was committed especially the feeding of the flock of God.” — Dean AtfonL

HE concluding chapter of our Apostle’s history is involved in great uncertainty. Deeply interesting would it have been to us to be able to follow under inspired guidance, as in the case of his illustrious contemporary, the final stages of his memorable career. What Irenseus says of Paul is more true still of Peter, “Luke at the close of his story leaves us thirsting for more.” The Acts of the Apostles are here as silent as on the previous twenty years of his life; — and we are compelled to weave together as best we can, — partly from scattered notices in the New Testament, and partly from uncanonical authorities, the account of the closing scene. In much it must at the best be conjecture; and yet, there are many broken links in various ways supplied, which enable us to claim a strong probability, at all events, for the accuracy of the narration.

He must now, as previously noted, have exceeded threescore and ten. The infirmities of age must alone have read to him the monition that soon he must “put off his tabernacle.” Though his spirit may have been vigorous as ever, there were rents and chinks doubtless in the decaying earthly tent. The Apostle of the Gentiles bespeaks the sympathy of Philemon as being “such an one as Paul the aged; “and if Peter, as we have reason to believe, was considerably the senior of the two, we can confidently think of him with” the hoary head,*” — “the crown of glory “when found, as in his case, u in the way of righteousness.”

We have so far prepared our readers for what our own theory is, in this disputed story of Peter’s concluding years; viz., that we reject the supposition — so strongly advocated by Romanists — of his having lived for a quarter of a century as Bishop of Rome and founder of its Church. We shall not recapitulate the grounds on which we consider such a belief to be utterly untenable; indeed only an ecclesiastical myth. On the other hand, we are not of those who repudiate, in toto, the idea of his ever having been in the city of the Tiber, — who hold that as he spent his latter years, so he also died in the Eastern Babylon. On the contrary, we are very strongly of opinion (as we have incidentally indicated in the previous chapter, and which we shall presently speak of at greater length), that after living for many years as the Apostle of the Circumcision in the city of the Euphrates, he was summarily arrested by order of the tyrant Nero, taken a prisoner to Rome (which he could have reached only shortly before his death), and that there he obtained his martyr’s crown.

While the early Fathers give no support whatever to the conjecture of Peter’s long residence in the latter city, and of his being placed there as head of the Church, there is a remarkable unanimity among them as to the fact of his death occurring in the world’s metropolis. Clement, Ignatius, Papias, Dionysius of Corinth, Irenaeus, Origen, Tertullian, and others, all testify to it. It is only the more zealous Protestant partisaus who dispute his being in Rome at all; deeming that such a iposition, could it be established, would prove the most effectual means of demolishing the Romanists’ assertion of his primacy. We need not say, however, that the mere fact of ending his life in the city of the Caesars is altogether apart and distinct from his claim to “St Peter’s chair.” The evidence supporting his martyrdom there is ample, while that supporting his alleged primacy is capable of easy and satisfactory refutation from the incidents of apostolic history. The one affords no necessary proof or corroboration of the other.

Is there do higher authority still that may be quoted, as indirectly confirming these conclusions; and at all events negativing the idea of the venerable Apostle dying a natural death in the Eastern city of his adoption?

1 One anion? nnny other testimonies to his Roman martyrdom is that of Lactantius —” When Nero found that not only at Rome, but everywhere,

multitudes were daily falling off from the worship of idols, and going over to the new religion in contempt of antiquity: execrable and noxious tyrant as he was, he determined to destroy the heavenly Church and to abolish righteousness: and firat of all men, becoming persecutor of God’s servants, he crucified Peter and slew Paul.” — Quoted by Dean Aljord, Proleg., p. 238.

What did our Lord say to Peter on that memorable occasion we have dwelt upon in a previous chapter, when, on the shores of Gennesaret, the Master contrasted the freedom of the fisherman’s younger days with the restraints to which alien hands would subject him in old age I “When thou shalt be old thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whithkr thou wouldest not. This spake He, signifying by what death he should glorify God” (John xxi. 18). Here we have, not only the prediction of the certainty of his martyrdom, and that too by crucifixion — “the stretching forth of his hands;” — but there is with equal specialty foretold a peculiarity in the manner of his death and the place of it He was to be suddenly seized and bound-; and .they who were thus violently to “lay hold on him” and “gird him,” were also “to carry him whither he would not”

How exactly does the Saviour’s prediction accord with what we accept as the fulfilment! It is well worthy of being noted, that the Gospel of St John, in which this statement occurs, was written, as is generally believed, not earlier than a.d. 97, and at all events many years subsequent to Peters death. The 21st chapter, moreover, has all the appearance of a postscript, or supplement, added after the previous portion had been completed; in which the writer, by detailing the description which his Lord had given of the Apostle’s end, is evidently desirous, among other things, of bearing testimony to the prescience of his Divine Master. He refers to the well-known fulfilment of a prediction uttered, more than a quarter of a century before, on the shore of a Syrian lake, and which had now circumstantially come true. “There is implied in it this remark: — ‘The Lord told Peter, more than thirty years before the event, that, at the close of his life” when he should be old,” he should be bound as a captive, and be carried away to be put to death in some other place. And so ye know, it fell out.’ This is evidently the drift of those words of Christ, which ’ the beloved disciple* so particularly notes down and preserves. We accept the Apostle John’s testimony, therefore, to this fact, that at the close of Peter’s life and labours, he was seized and bound, and carried off to be executed. If he was found in Babylon, as we suppose, then he was carried away from Babylon. But whither? He might be ordered to be put to death in Antioch, or in Jerusalem: but no reason appears for his conveyance to either of these places. If he was not to be put to death in Babylon, then it seems most probable that the order was, ‘Bring him to Rome, that he and the other chief of the sect, Paul, may be executed together.’ This same course was taken, fifty years after, with Ignatius, who was carried prisoner from Antioch to Rome, there to be thrown to the lions. In Pliny’s letter, too, we find a reference to the same practice in other cases. He says, ‘Others were brought before me possessed with the same infatuation, but being citizens of Rome I directed that they should be conveyed thither.’” 1

An occurrence of savage import in the imperial city, to which casual allusion has already been made, precipitated the catastrophe. The guilty perpetrator and his acts demand more special description, from their intimate connection with the fate of our Apostle.

Nero was now sovereign of the Roman world. He was still only a youth of twenty-one; but his life of guilt and infamy had already begun. There is scarce

l “Life and Writings of St Peter,” p. 268.

the crime that can be named into which he had not already plunged. He had murdered many courtiers in cold blood; and Octavia, his beautiful and noble-minded queen, was living in exile. The infamous Poppaea was residing with him as his unlawful wife in his palace on the Palatine. Shortly after, he not only gave orders for Octavia’s murder, but for his cruel satisfaction had her head brought to Rome! A few weeks later he committed the most enormous of his many unnatural deeds, in the assassination of his own mother. His first purpose was to loosen the rafters of her bed-chamber, and to bury her as she was asleep under the ruins of the ceiling. This failing, he next arranged to drown her on her way to her villa on the Lucrine Lake, when on board an ornamental yacht, so contrived as, on a given signal, to fall to pieces. This also having failed, she was despatched the same night with daggers. It gives a mournful picture of his hardened levity, that, a short time after, he was singing to the guitar, and acting in presence of crowds of Romans; the nobler of whom shed tears when they saw the imperial honour so tarnished. When the tidings of revolt among his subjects came to his ears, he threatened to poison the whole Senate, consume the city by fire, and let loose wild beasts among the people in the streets. No wonder Paul speaks of him as a “lion,” and thanks his God who had rescued him from his jaws.

On the night of the 19th of July A.D. 64, a fire broke out in the Circus Maximus, between the Palatine and Aventine Mount. It raged fiercely for six days and seven nights, spreading with amazing rapidity, the people being forced to seek for shelter among the monuments and tombs of the dead. No besieging army could have so effected the work of destruction. The citizens saw, with bitter sorrow, their homes and noble buildings becoming a prey to the furious element; and it must have added much to their indignation to find (what it is to be feared was too true) that Nero was the cause of this fearful calamity. “He was offended,” says Suetc* nius, “with the deformity of the ancient buildings, and the narrow passages and turnings of the streets.... Besides the vast u umber of ordinary houses, the palaces of the great captains of former ages, adorned with the spoils of former conquests, were all consumed to ashes, together with the temples of the gods, which the ancient kings of Rome had raised, and had afterwards been consecrated to the memory of the Roman victories.’* The unfeeling tyrant soon came to find that so wanton and cruel an outrage had roused, as it might justly have done, the anger of the Romans. What is he to. do f The base expedient occurs to fasten the guilt of the burning on the innocent Christians, whose purity he hated, because it condemned his own vices. The plot answered too successfully. He succeeded, by this malicious lie, in rousing the popular feeling against the followers of Jesus; saving himself by involving the innocent. Cruelties beyond description followed. The sufferers were besmeared with pitch, and then set fire to at night to lighten the darkness; others were sewn up in the skins of beasts, hunted down by dogs, and torn to pieces. Nero exulted personally in this spectacle. He moved about, as Tacitus tells us, in a circus erected in his own gardens, “in the dress of a charioteer, sometimes on foot, and sometimes viewing the spectacle from his car.” 1

l See “Footsteps of St Paul,” pp. 376, 408 409.

We may imagine what the feelings of the mob were likely to be towards the reputed heads of the hated sect of the Nazarenes.

Paul, as their chief representative in the West, was immediately seized. But there was another propagandist in the far East, well known at least to prsBtors and proconsuls, who had been founding communities of these same obnoxious religionists, who, in the words of Tacitus, “were convicted on account of their sullen hatred of mankind.” 1

That Peter could have been at Rome only a very short time before Paul’s death, is evident, independently of other reasons, from the fact we have noted in a previous chapter, of no mention having been made of him in the last Epistle of the great Apostle to his son Timothy. In that letter the doomed prisoner makes affecting allusion to the old friends who had forsaken him, and denied him their sympathy and solace. We cannot for a moment believe that Peter would have stood aloof fr<nn his noble-minded brother in such a crisis, had he then been resident in the same city. The likeliest conjecture we can form is, that his violent seizure by the myrmidons of Nero had taken place immediately after the writing of that touching Epistle. Perhaps Paul had little expected such a response to his pathetic appeal as the appearance of his honoured “fellow-soldier” from distant Asia; and it would add a tinge, if we may so call it, of sacred romance to that unexpected answer, if we can credit the legend so universally received in the ancient Church, that the two

1 It Is noteworthy that Peter, in one of his Epistles, uses the corresponding word in Greek to that which, in Latin, Tacitus employs regarding the Christians They were punished as “tTil doers;” “Mal<fici” is the term of the Roman historian, “KaKOiroioi ‘* that of our Apostle (1 Pet. ii. 12). prisoners were together immured in the same dungeon of the Mamertine. That prison is still pointed out as the scene of Peters incarceration. Its position is adjoining the Forum, at the foot of the descent from the •Capitol, and beside the arch of Septimius Severus. It is considered the oldest relic of Etruscan architecture in the city, deriving its name from Ancus Martius, the fourth king of ancient Home, and enlarged by Servius Tullius. It is reached, in the present day, by a vault under the church of St Giuseppe dei Falegnami, where the visitor finds him.*elf in two dismal cells; the lower is only six-and-a-ha f feet in Jjeight, and the huge blocks of tufa of which it is built are united by cramps of iron. There is a circular opening or aperture above, through which prisoners, on their condemnation, were said to have been lowered either to starve or be strangled to death. Jugurtha suffered the former of these cruelties within these terrible walls. No wonder Paul wrote so anxiously for his winter cloak to protect him from the pestilential damps and cold of such a place. The ecclesiastical officials who to this day conduct strangers to these dungeons, retail the baseless* traditions given by Baronius of the impress of Peter’s head on the wall, the pillar to which he and Paul were bound for the space of nine months, and the fountain which miraculously burst forth to supply water for the baptisms of the two centurions Processus and Martian us, with forty-seven other converted fellow-captives. In commemoration of the imprisonment of the two Apostles, deputies from all the churches in Rome assemble by torchlight on the night of the 4th of July, and in solemn silence kneel in front of the traditional pillar. l See Footsteps of St Paul,” p. 407. Also “St Paul in Rome,” p. 75. The If we can accept even the reasonable probability of so strange a reunion, in so strange a place, between these two doomed and devoted chiefs, imagination may be left to picture it It would vividly recall to both the never-to-be-forgotten fourteen days when they had* met, long years ago, under the same roof in Jerusalem. On that former occasion they were only girding on their armour rnow the fight had been wellnigh fought, and the garlands of victory were in view. The Roman Via Sacra and Via Triumplialis were close by their prison. But theirs was a nobler triumph and nobler trophies than those associated with couquering chariot and blare of martial trumpet

We shall accept, then, the general patristic testimonies on this point, as these are expressed in the words of so reliable an authority as Dionysius of Corinth, who asserts that Peter arrived in Rome in A.D. 66, and that he was not longer there than one year. Our own belief indeed is, that the period of his residence was considerably shorter. The way was long, and the facilities for locomotion limited between the Euphrates and the Tiber. It is supposed the order for his seizure was given in the opening year of Nero’s persecution, A.D. 64. “It would be the spring of a.d. 65 before it could reach Babylon. Preparations for the journey would then have to be made; and it might be nearly a.d. 66 before he reached Rome.” 2

writer may be allowed to refer the reader to a preliminary dissertation in the latter volume, where there are details given regarding some recent interesting light thrown by archaeological research on the ancient Mamertine prisons.

1 See “Bibliotheca Sacra,” January 1859. Nero died June 9th A.D. 68. * “Life and Writings of St Peter,” p. 268.

All that follows is still more matter of conjecture What treatment he received when he reached the great capital, we cannot telL One of the most beautiful of ancient legends regarding him (if legend indeed we may .call an incident which has been narrated both by Ambrose and Origen, and which may perhaps here find the most appropriate place), would seem to indicate that he was not altogether bereft of friends. The well-known story they have left is this: —

At the instigation of some of the faithful, Peter was urged to flee for his life. At first, the proposal was met by him with a decided negative, justly fearing reflections on his courage and constancy, — that friends and foes might alike accuse him of shrinking from those sufferings for his dear Lord, to the endurance of which he had exhorted others. But the appeal of their prayers and tears as to the value of his life to them and the infant Church, fortified too as the recommendation was by Christ’s own injunction (Matt. x. 23), for the moment overcame his scruples. With reluctance he acceded: and by night was assisted over the prison wall. He betook himself along that same Appian Way, by which probably, as in the case of Paul, he had entered the city. He succeeded in getting two miles beyond the Porta Capeua, and was nigh the spot, bordering on the wide Cauipagna, which was soon after sacred as the place of repose for Christian dead. The same Lord, whom last he saw in the ascension-cloud, appeared to him hastenl The strangest and most incredible of the many legends regarding Peter is that given by Eusebius on the authority of Metaphrastes, that he not only had a lengthened sojourn in Europe, but visited for a considerable period the British Isles, “where he converted many nations to the faith.” As Dr Cave, however, who finds a place in his pages for the legend, quaintly remarks, ‘< We had better be without the honour of St Peter’s company, than build the story on so sandy a foundation.” ing in the direction of the city. The fugitive Apostle immediately recognises the Divine Master. The same penetrating look, doubtless, was cast upon him, with which he had once been confronted in the palace-court of the High Priest — a look of sadness and gentle reproach. Peter was the first to break silence with the question — “Lord, whither goest Thou f 991 The answer was immediately returned,” I go again to be crucified. 99

The interrogator continued — “Lord, wast Thou not crucified once for all f”

“Yes,” was the reply, “but I saw thy flight from death, and I go to be crucified in thy stead.”

“Lord,” was the immediate answer of Peter, “I go to obey Thy command.”

“Fear not,” was the Master’s farewell word as He vanished from sight, “for I am with thee.”

The Apostle at once retraced his steps, returned to his cell, and surrendered himself to his keepers.

The above story we are aware is by many rejected; — classed among the” apocryplial writings? and deemed only another of the many similar inventions of a credulous age. It may be so: but we see nothing in the narrative itself to relegate it to the category of the purely mythical and legendary. True, it is not recorded in Scripture. It has no shadow of an inspired basis. But the answer to this is — that the whole narrative of Peter’s latter life is

1 “Dnmine quo vadist” The words which have given name to the weUknown church erected on the reputed spot. In accordance with the usual childish superstitions, there is shown a fac-simile of the stone on which Christ stood while He talked with Peter, and on which He left the impression of His feet: the original being alleged to be preserved in the neighbouring church of St Sebastian. Michael Angelo’s statue in the Church of Sta Maria Sopra Minerva, is supposed to represent the Saviour as He appeared to Peter on this occasion. left unchronicled by inspired pens: so that such omission is not by any means fatal to its credibility. Similar divine appearances of the Lord Jesus were, moreover, by no means uncommon in the life and experience of St Paul. The revelation of Christ to him on the way to Damascus did not stand alone. In Corinth, when oppressed in spirit by the obstinate rejection of the gospel message by his fellow-countrymen, that same Lord appeared to him “in a vision by night,” with words of encouragement — words proceeding from the lips of a glorified Person — “I am with thee, and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee: for I have much people in this city” (Acts xviii. 9, 10). When apprehended at Jerusalem, and called upon to make his defence on the stairs of Antonia, he narrates a similar appearance of his Lord while he was praying in the Temple: “And it came to pass, that, when I was come again to Jerusalem, even while I prayed in the Temple, I was in a trance; and saw Him saying unto me, Make haste, and get thee quickly out of Jerusalem: for they will not receive thy testimony concerning Me. And I said, Lord, they know that I imprisoned and beat in every synagogue them that believed on Thee: and when the blood of Thy martyr Stephen was shed, I also was standing by, and consenting unto his death, and kept the raiment of them that slew him. And He said unto me, Depart: for I will send thee far hence unto the Gentiles” (Acts xxii. 17-21). Yet again, when he was put in safe ward by the captain of the guard who had generously rescued him from the violence of the Sanhedrim: “The night following the Lord stood by him, and said, Be of good cheer, Paul; for as thou hast testified of Me in Jerusalem, so must thou bear witness at Rome” (Acts xxiii. 11). Nor heed we remind our readers of an instance still later than the closing years of Peter; when the same heavenly Redeemer appeared to the last of His living Apostles in the isle of Patmos; He revealed Himself in the lustres of His glorified humanity, with the circlet of stars in His right hand, and speaks as a divine, glorified Person, “And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as dead. And He laid His right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first and the last: I am He that liveth and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death” (Rev. L 17, 18). We can substantiate with no proofs this alleged analogous appearance of the Lord to Peter; but we have said enough to show from the experience of his most like-minded and like-privileged brothers, that such an appearance was not impossible in itself, — that it was by no means novel or exceptional in apostolical story; and the details of the narration as regards Peter himself are certainly in remarkable keeping with his character and antecedents.

He had at all events now resigned himself to his fate, — and the end was drawing near. Like a brave general he had cut down the bridge behind him, so that escape or retreat was rendered impossible. His fellow-prisoner’s words might with truth be adopted as his own — “I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.”

It is not at all probable that, like Paul, he would be summoned for trial before the Emperor personally in his imperial pa ace on the Palatine Hill. In the case of the former, a free - born Roman” appealing

1 See note in Professor Plumptre’s * Mittical Studies.” to Caesar,” we have every ground to picture him standing either before Nero or his consular legate in the pillared hall of Justice — the Basilica, which the spade of the antiquary has lately laid bare — surrounded with his twelve lictors, courtiers, and assessors. With Peter, in all likelihood, it would be different. He had ho diploma of Roman citizenship to give him claim to an imperial hearing. A mere hated and despised member of the Jewish race, his case would be dealt with summarily and arbitrarily, and his doom would be swift; although, doubtless, some form of trial would be gone through by an imperial subordinate — perhaps the prefect of the city, who had supreme authority over criminal suits. He would, at all events, have no Burrhus or Seneca at his side, such as the other Apostle had, to speak a kindly word for him. One only* Mightier than earth’s mightiest, would be faithful to him in that hour. The appearance, be it myth or reality, we have described on the Appian Way, would be a sublime verity now. He could doubtless say with his devoted brother-captive, “Notwithstanding, the Lord stood with me and strengthened me.”

Nor are we allowed to picture him in his prison life. We can only conjecture, and no more, the earthly friends who possibly may have visited him, or of whose presence in the city or nearness to his cell he may have been cognisant. We know the devoted band who were faithful to the last in brightening the closing hours of Paul’s life. Could Peter, too, have seen the beloved Luke — his own future biographer? or Onesiphorus, who had come all the way from Asia, forgetful of danger, to see his venerated father, and cheer the gloom of the Maraertine? “He sought him out diligently, and found him.” Or Linus, or Pudens and his wife Claudia? or Timothy, who had hastened, at the urgent solicitation of his best friend, to give and receive a parting blessing 1 Perhaps with greater probability than those now named, would be Clement, who seems to speak from personal knowledge, when he writes of “Peter having borne testimony unto death.” All, however, is uncertainty. If any of these were seen, it may have only been at best a passing glimpse, giving perhaps, by look and silent expression, the sympathy which they dared not embody in words. We have the authority, at all events, of ancient tradition in mentioning the name of one specially dear to him. It was she whom he had “led about” in his missionary journeyings; who had been the companion of many hours, or rather busy and eventful years of anxiety and labour, and to whom he now addressed words of heart-cheer when he saw her on her way to martyrdom. To Clement of Alexandria we are indebted for the following affecting story regarding her: — “They say that St Peter, beholding his wife led out to death, was rejoiced at her calling of the Lord and her conveyance to her heavenly home, and cried out encouragingly and comfortingly, addressing her by name, ‘Oh, remember thou the Lord! ‘Such was the marriage of that blessed pair, and the perfect agreement in those things that were dearest to them.”1

l I may here venture, without comment, to insert “the legend “(for legend we can only call it) “of St Petronilla,” the alleged daughter of the Apostle Peter. In doing so, I shall avail myself, in the first instance, of the words in. which it is given in the pages of Sacred and Legendary Art”: —

“The Apostle Peter had a daughter who accompanied him in his journey from the East. Being at Rome with him, she fell sick of a grievous in. flrmity which deprived her of the use of her limbs. And it happened that It is a question in the case of Paul whether his Roman citizenship shielded him from the cruel custom of scourging the condemned before death. It is not likely that even he evaded the humiliation.” Baronius tells us that in the Church of St Mary, beyond the Bridge in Rome, the pillars are yet extant to which he is said

as the disciples were at meat with him in his house, one said to him, * Master, how is it that thou who healest the infirmities of others, dost not heal thy daughter Petronilla?’ And St Peter answered, ‘It is good for her to remain sick.’ But that they might see the power that was in the Word of God, he commanded her to get up and serve them at table, which she did; and having done so, she lay down as helpless as before. But many years afterwards, being perfected by her long suffering, and praying fervently, she was healed. Petronilla was wonderfully fair; and Valerius Flaccus, a young and noble Roman, who was a heathen, became enamoured of her beauty, and sought her for his wife; and he being very powerful, she feared to refuse him. She therefore desired him to return in three days, and promised that he should carry her home. But she prayed earnestly to be delivered from this peril; and when Flaccus returned in three days, with great pomp, to celebrate the marriage, he found her dead. The company of nobles who attended him carried her to the grave, in which they laid her crowned with roses; and Flaccus lamented greatly.”

The legend places her death in the year 98 — that is, thirty two years after the death of St Peter. But it would be in vain to attempt to reconcile the dates and improbabilities of this story.

St Peter raising Petronilla from her sick-bed, is one of the subjects by Masaccio in the Brancacci Chapel. The scene of her entombment is the subject of a once celebrated and colossal picture by Guercino. The copy, in mosaic, is over the altar dedicated to her in St Peter’s. In front, and in the lower part of the picture, she is just seen as they are letting her down into the grave crowned with roses. Behind stands Flaccus with a handkerchief in his hand, and a crowd of spectators. In the upper part of the picture Petronilla is already in Paradise, kneeling in a rich dress before the feet of Ohrist. having exchanged an earthly for a heavenly Bridegroom. — Sacred and Legendary Art, p. 210.

I cannot resist further referring the reader to an interesting paper on the same subject, contributed to Good Words in November 1874, by the eminent Roman archseologist Mr Shakspere Wood, whose personal kindness when in Rome I have, in common with others, gratefully to acknowledge. The article referred to is a description of the discovery of the Basilica of Santa Petronilla at a farm on the Carapagna, called Tor Marancia, and not far from the church Dnmine quo Vadis. The discovery is one of the many successful explorations which have been made by Signor de Rossi. In digging into the catacombs known to be in this place, he came, as long ago as the year 1854, on a crypt of considerable size. Three marble columns, to have been bound and scourged.“1 To Peter we may well believe there was no such clemency shown. Even his venerable years would insure no exemption from the lacerations of the rod. Neither would the reason which spared Paul the agonies of crucifixion operate in saving him from that cruel lingering death — the death, indeed, which Christ had specially indicated — “Thou shalt stretch forth thy hands “the hands extended upon either side on the transverse bar of the cross.” — Trench, The legend was commonly accepted in the ancient Church that they both suffered

also two sarcophagi ornamented with lions’ heads, rewarded his labour; but circumstances, detailed by Mr Wood, necessitated his abandoning further investigations at that time. Recently, under the new regime, the explorations were renewed, and rewarded by the discovery of the long-lost Basilica, “with it« walls and apse standing to the height of some 12 or 14 feet,” exactly in the locality where the ancient Itineraries placed it (Ecdesia Sancta PetronilUt). Mr Wood mentions that after the siege of v Rome by the Lombard king in the eighth century, the remains of Petronilla, with her sarcophagus, were taken to St Peter’s; after which the original Basilica was abandoned. As to the question of Petronilla being the veritable daughter of the Apostle, the writer of the article wisely does not commit himself. Signor de Rossi’s opinion,, on grounds there stated, is rather unfavourable to her being so in any other sense than that of the spirit. We may append the words of the great archaeologist of the seventeenth century, Bosio, as given by Mr Wood. He thus speaks of this catacomb before any explorations had been made: — “We may enumerate this among the most ancient of the cemeteries in Rome, for it had its beginning about the time of the holy Apostles; and in it was buried Petronilla, santissima Virffine, who is commonly called the daughter of St Peter, either because, as some will, she was really his daughter, inasmuch as we read in Clement of Alexandria, St John Chrysostom, and Nieephorus that St Peter had a wife who became a martyr; or because, as others will, this holy virgin was baptized by St Peter, and therefore called his daughter.... It was then with the sepulture of Santa 1’etronilla that this cemetery had its beginning, distant a m le and a half from the walls of Rome, in a sandy grotto which whs on the Via Ardientina, at a farm belonging to Santa Flavia Domitilla, illusti’issima Virpine, niece, on the sister’s side, of Flavins Clemens, consul.... And in this cemetery were also buried the bodies of the holy martyrs Nereus and Achilleus, chamberlains to the same Santa Domitilla.” J Cave. martyrdom the same day. The one was led out to Aqua Salvia, like Lis Lord, “without the gate,” on the road to Ostia, one of the Tyburns of ancient Rome; and, where stands the church familiar to travellers as the Tre Fontane, suffered death by the sword of the Roman executioner. The other, if we follow tradition, after saluting his brethren, and having taken his last farewell of Paul, was led across one of the bridges of the Tiber to those heights on the Vatican Mount — the ancient Janiculum — now well known by their association with the Basil ica which bears his name — San Pietro in Montorio. There, in the courtyard of a barrack or military station, he is said to have undergone the punishment from which Roman citizens were exempted, but which was reserved for malefactors.

l The Church of St Pietro in Montorio is reputed to hare been built by the Emperor Constantine. Having fallen into decay, it was restored by Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain at the close of the fifteenth century. I remember in visiting it being much impressed with the beauty of the adjoining chapel of Bramante, certainly more so than with the cluster of monkish relics and legends which have gathered around it. “It is a small circular building, having on the outside a corridor sustained by sixteen columns of the Doric ojvler in grey granite. ... In its upper chapel, before the altar, is a sitting statue of St Peter; and in the crypt below, richly decorated with stucco reliefs, is shown the hole into which was stuck the cross upon whica the Prince of the Apostles was crucified” — Murray’ t Handbook to Rome, p. 189.

Giotto’s well-known picture in the Sacristy ot the Vatican, represents the crucifixion, in accordance with a rival legend, as having taken place between the two mttat or goals of a circus close by, round which the chariots turned.

If we are correct in assigning the Vatican Mount as the scene of Peter’s martyrdom, it is plain that the old tradition is a baseless one of the final meeting which took place between him and Paul outside the Ostian Gate, and which I have thus elsewhere described: — “In passing along the straight road (probably, too, unchanged since the first century), and which still conducts to Ostia, the student interested in tracing the footsteps of the great Apostle cannot resist pausing for a moment by the small inconspicuous chapel on the wayside to mark one of the scenes which tradition, although without any authority, has grafted on this memorable last journey. In the rude bas-relief above the door is a slab containing a representation of the

On the horrors of the final scene we need not dwell. These to him would be disarmed of their terrors by “the vision and fruition,” with the assurance of which he had supported other sufferers in his earlier Epistle — “the glory to be revealed” — and which, even in the midst of their “fiery trials,” would enable them “to be glad also with exceeding joy” (1 Peter iv. 12, 13). The

supposed parting which here took place between St Peter and St Panl. The words alleged to hare been spoken have as singular a quaintness about them as the sculptures they illustrate :- And St Paul said to St Peter, Peace be with thee, Foundation of the Church, Shepherd of the fl ck of Christ.’ And Peter said to Paul, 4 Go in peace, Preacher of good tidings and Guide of the salvation of the just. “* We may adopt the safe verdict of Dr Cave, “That however fictitious maybe this and other recorded incidents, the best is, which of them soever started first, they both came at last to the same end of the race, to those palms and crowns which are reserved for all good men in heaven.”

“Oh. then the glory and the bliss,
When all that pained or seemed amiss

Shall melt with earth and sin away!
When saints, beneath their Saviour’s eye.
Filled with each other s company,

Shall spend in love the eternal day!”

It may only farther be added, that the two Apostles continued in all subsequent centuries to be associated with one another in ecclesiastical art alike in pictures, statues, and medallions.

“In former years, among the ecclesiastical pageants which attracted multitudes at Easter to Sc Peter’s, was one at the close of Vespers on Monday. A canon appeared on a balcony underneath the vast dome, and in sonorous voice announced that what were now exposed to the view of the faithful were the famous portraits possessed by Pope Sylvester — portraits which, when shown by him to Constantine, were called by the Emperor * those gods named Peter and Paul.“* — See Heman’s ‘’Christian Rome,” p. 158. A copy of a valuable bronse medallion, three inches in diameter, of 8t Paul and St Peter, also in the Vatican, will be found carefully rendered in one of the engravings of Mrs Jamieson’s “Sacred and Legendary Art.” It is considered the earliest known representation of the Apostles — probably in the time of the Flavian Emperors. It was discovered by Boldetti in St Domitilla’s Cemetery in the catacombs of St Calixtus, and is artistically and classically executed; but it is at present in a portion of the Museum to which, when I was in Rome, the public were forbidden access. See

St Paul in Borne,*’ pp. 96, 98.

—Christian Tear, p. 321.

THE CLOSE OP PETER’S LIFE.

latest scenes of his life in distant Babylon may have mingled with older, and still more sacred reminiscences; and all with bright anticipations of the heavenly future. The words of an excellent poet may be put into his lips as possibly descriptive of the emotions of the hour: —

“But on before me swept the moonlit stream,
That had entranced me with its memories — A thousand battles and one burst of psalms — Boiling its waters to the Indian sea
Beyond Balsara and Elana far,
Nigh to two thousand miles from Ararat.
But its full music took a finer tone,
And sang me something of a gentler stream
That rolls for ever to another shore,
Whereof our God Himself is the sole Sea,
And Christ’s dear love the pulsing of the tide.

And then I thought I knelt, and kneeling heard Nothing — save only the long wash of waves, And one sweet psalm that sobbed for evermore.”

—Waters of Babylon.

It would only be in harmony with his character, if yet another widely-known tradition be accepted — that he refused to be placed on the cross in the ordinary manner; or rather, feeling unworthy of suffering in the same posture as his great Lord, that he expressed a desire to be crucified with his head downwards. The words of Jerome are — “By this Emperor (Nero) he was crucified and crowned with martyrdom, his head being turned towards the earth and his feet in the air, protesting that he was unworthy to be crucified as his Lord was.” Some authorities are disposed to deny the truth of this tradition, as dating no earlier than a disputed reference of Origen, and the above more pronounced affirmation of Jerome. But it was doubtless credited by the early Church; and, as a writer remarks, besides being in keeping with the “fervent temperament and deep humility of the Apostle, it was a death not unlikely to have been inflicted in mockery by the instruments of Nero’s wanton and ingenious cruelty.”1 “Happy man!” is the exclamation of Chrysostom, who accepted the truth of the legend, “to be set in the readiest posture of travelling from earth to heaven.” Crucifixion, in any form, was a death of intense anguish. Nor can we resist the remark, in passing, that doubtless, though not fully cognisant of all the terrible accessories, yet knowing from lips which could not err that he was to suffer martyrdom in this way, what a sublime superiority was manifested to the pangs of dissolution, when in his last letter he could calmly compare his departure, as the words may mean, to the laying aside of an old cloak or garment — “I must put off this my tabernacle” (2 Peter i. 14).

We have spoken of the friends who may possibly have ministered to him with their sympathy in his closing days. Many more there would be amid “the children of God scattered abroad,” especially among his Asiatic converts, who would bewail the loss of their spiritual father. While these, however, are unknown to us,

1 Bib. Die, art. ‘* Peter.” “Seneca mentions that the Romans sometimes crucified men with their heads downwards; and Eusebius testifies that several martyrs were put to that cruel death (adding that smoking wood was sometimes placed immediately under the victim’s head, either to add to his tortures or to ha ten his death). Accordingly the executioners easily granted the Apostle his extraordinary request. St Chrysostom, St Augustine, and St Austerius say that he was nailed to the cross: Tertullian mentions that he was tied with cords. He wa probably both nailed and bound with ropes.” — Butler, quoted in HarJs Walks in Rome, p. 460. Th«se who have been in Cologne will remember Rubens’ great painting of St Peter’s crucifixion, and which the artist considered his own masterpiece. It is treated in accordance with the above tradition. there is one, whose name has been pre-eminently familiar in the preceding narrative, who surely could not fail to be numbered among “the chief est mourners one whose hallowed love and friendship, strong in life, would be stronger still in death. Peter’s friendship even with Paul was but of yesterday compared to that of the playmate of his youth, and the true yoke-fellow of his riper years. We may realise for a moment the feelings of the beloved and tender-hearted John, when he had learnt; as soon he must, that his oldest, dearest friend — the friend linked to him with devout memories never shared before or since on earth — had been called to his martyr’s crown. We know indeed from the last chapter of the fourth Evangelist’s Gospel, how sacred and imperishable these memories were; — how fondly and lovingly he cherished the worth of the departed. Let another in his graphic sentences express what these feelings must have been: —” The very writing of this chapter, it would almost seem, is to be regarded as a tribute of friendship, on the part of John, to the memory of his beloved comrade Peter. It was, as is generally believed, the last task on earth of ’ the disciple whom Jesus loved ’ to prepare his Gospel. Moved and inspired by the Holy Ghost, he gave to this work the latest days of his lengthened life. And what more congenial occupation could he have had assigned to him! He had addressed to the Church at large, as well as to individuals, letters of warning, affectionate and faithful, against the deadly errors of that time, when men were already beginning to deny or explain away the reality of the atonement made by Christ, and the renewal wrought by the Spirit. He had put on record the revelation of all things about to happen on the earth, down to the era of the Lord’s appearing in glory, and the establishment of His glorious kingdom. And now, on the near verge of the grave, with his foot on the very confines of the eternal world, he is summoned to live over again, in inspired recollection and in minute detail, those three youthful years of bis personal fellowship with the Lord, which to him are worth uncounted ages.

“Blessed toil! nay, rather rapturous enjoyment! How does he throw his whole soul into it, and linger over it, feeling as if he never could have done!

“... Plainly the venerable writer was then laying down his pen. It is the formal finishing of the book. But he cannot tear himself away: he cannot bring himself to say * Farewell.’ There are more last words to utter; there is a postscript — an appendix to add.... He has to rear a monument more durable than brass, not only to his Master, but to his Master’s friend and his own.

“For who can doubt that it is partly, at least, as a memorial of Peter that this extra matter in the 21st chapter is given? The whole chapter is about Peter. And with what exquisite tact and taste — with what tenderness and what truth — is Peter sketched to us in this affecting picture!” 1

We return from this digression to the scene of the crucifixion on the Janiculum. The mere accessories and surroundings of that scene may be of little moment; and yet it may not be out of place for readers who have never visited Rome to remark, that in striking contrast with the dreary and desolate locality in the Campagna which witnessed the martyrdom of Paul, there is perhaps no spot in or around the city which lingers longer

l Dr Caiidlish’s ‘* Scripture Reminiscences,” pp. 271-273.

THE CLOSE OP PETER’S LIFE.

in the “mind’s eye” for its unparalleled view, than the traditional scene of Peter’s martyrdom, and specially when beheld under the cloudless blue of au Italian sky. At the time of which we speak, far to the right, stretching a long way beyond the Forum and Mamertine prisons, would be seen the now treeless Campagna, which girdles the modern Rome as with a zone of death, but which then would be studded with patrician villas and palatial residences. The range of Albau and Sabine hills would appear in the extreme distance. On their nearer slopes would be discerned Frascati, on its gentle eminence, enshrined in olive groves; Tivoli, nestling in its purple shadows. Snowy Soracte would form the solitary guardian of the northern landscape. In the middle distance outside the city would rise those enormous aqueducts, then in their completed vastness, whose weird colossal fragments, still spanning the naked “Prairie,” form the most picturesque of all the relics of Rome’s ancient splendour; while nearer would be the yellow Tiber winding its serpentine way from the Flamiuiau Gate through the Pons Triumphalis, and sweeping along the base of the Aventine Mount. Yet what was the grandeur of earth’s greatest Capital, with so beautiful a setting, to him who was on the threshold of “the building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens!” “And then, said they, We will show you the Delectable Mountains. So he looked, and, behold, at a great distance he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, very delectable to behold.... And when thou comest there, from thence thou may est see to the gate of the Celestial city.”

“And o’er his features poured a ray
Of glory, not to pass away;

2b

626 THE FOofsTEPS OP ST PETER.

One to sublimer worlds allied,
One from all passions purified, — Even now half mingled with the sky,
And all prepared, oh, not to die,
But, like the prophet, to aspire
To heaven’s triumphal car of fire.”

—Hemans.

We mention, however, the impressiveness of the modern view from the church of Montorio, more on account of one feature in it which was totally wanting on the occasion of that crucifixion scene. To the left of the panorama the spectator is now mainly arrested by a building which dwarfs and overpowers all its compeers; the first to be seen in the far-distant view of Rome, — the last to linger on the horizon as he leaves the old plains of Latium. It is the reputed spot where the remains of our Apostle are said to repose — the Cathedral Church bearing his name — the colossal monument which hierarchal pride has reared to the memory of the alleged Vicar of Christ. “He was buried at Rome, in the Vatican,” are the words of Jerome, “by the side of the Triumphal Way; it is honoured with the veneration of the whole city.” “I am able,” saysCaius, the learned Roman Presbyter, who lived in the third century, “to show the very tombs of the Apostles: for whether you go to the Vatican or the Ostian road, you will find the sepulchres of those who founded this church.” Whatever were the superstitious abuses to which the custom led, it was, we know, the habit of the primitive Christians most sacredly to guard the localities where martyr-blood was shed. St Cyprian is the interpreter in a single sentence of the sentiment

i His body being taken from the cross is said to hare been embalmed by Marcelliaus, the Presbyter, after the Jewish manner.

Digitized of the faithful in these ages: “To the bodies of those who depart by the outlet of a glorious death, let a more zealous watchfulness be given.” 1 The first memorial to the Apostle of the Circumcision was a humble one, in the shape of a small oratory, erected over the place where he was supposed to be buried, at or nigh the site of the present Basilica. It was built in a.d. 90 by Anacjetus, Bishop of Rome, who was said to have been ordained by Peter himself. This, however, was destroyed by Heliogobalus, and the body was removed in the first instance, along with that of Paul, to the Catacombs in the Appian Way, where it rested till the popedom of Cornelius, who in the fourth century transferred it once more from the subterranean crypt of St Sebastian to the vicinity of the scene of martyrdom on the Janiculum. The Emperor Constantine, digging with his own hands part of the foundation, and removing twelve loads of earth, reared a new and more befitting shrine for the Prince of Apostles. According to Anastasius, this shrine was of silver, enclosed in a sarcophagus of gilt bronze. It was erected on the very spot where in an after age the prodigal munificence of Leo X., assisted by the genius of Michael Angelo, reared the modern fabric. Immediately under the vast cupola stands the high altar; and on a sunk circular balustrade of marble, surrounding the reputed relics, are a gleaming circlet of lamps, ninety- three in number, which are kept burning night and day.

The martyrdom and burial of Peter in Borne, at the same time with the Apostle of the Gentiles, seems to have been universally accepted by the ancient Church. Dionysius, Bishop of Corinth, who lived in the second

1 44 St Paul in Rome,” p. 86. century, states in his Epistle to the Romans, that Peter and Paul suffered martyrdom in llome at the same time ( — xara rbt obrh* xasit Euseb. ii 25.) St Jerome mentions the same thing. “Oh, consider with trembling,” exclaims Chrysostom, “that which Rome will behold, when Paul suddenly rises with Peter from this sepulchre, and is carried up into the air to meet the Lord.”1 Tii us, then, amid manifold uncertainties which encompass the closing page in our Apostle’s history, it may still be allowed us, with reasonable certainty, in the words of an eloquent writer, “to trace his footsteps by the banks of the Tiber — to witness beside the Appian Way the scene of the most beautiful of ecclesiastical legends, which records his last vision of his crucified Lord — to overlook from the supposed spot of his death the city of the seven hills — to believe that his last remains repose under the glory of St Peter’s dome.” 2 But a nobler than the noblest of earthly shrines is his; in the memories of the millions who have pondered the mighty deeds and mighty words of this Luther of the apostolic age; who have listened or who are listening to the echoes of his undying voice; receiving still his

i Chrys. “Horn on Ep. to Rom.” It was supposed by some that for a time at least the hallowed dust of the two Apostles was actually mingled. There is a feast in the Roman calendar celebrated on the fifteenth of July cal ed “The Feast of the Division of the Apostles.” The legend to which this refers is as follows: — “The remains of St Peter and St Paul were placed togetherafter their martyrdom, and when Pope Sylvester, at the consecration ol the great church of St Peter, desired to place the sacred remains of the patron saint in hd altar, it was found impossible to distinguish them from those of St Paul; but after fasting and prayer, a divine voice revealed that the larger bones were those of the preacher, the smaller of the fisherman (?), and they were consequently placed in the churches of St Peter and St Paul respectively.” — Smith’s “Die. Christian Antiquities,” p. 109. A portion of the relics of Peter are now claimed to rest in the Roman Basilica of St John Late ran.

s “Sermons and Essays on the Apostolic Age,” p. 96. apostolic benediction; and wbo feel that to him, in nobler than any poor meaning attached to it by superstition, have been given “the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” “On the early sarcophagus St Peter bears a cross, and is generally on the left hand of Christ The cross, often set with jewels, is supposed to refer to the passage in St John xxl 19, ‘Signifying by what death he should die; ’ but it may surely bear another interpretation, i.e., the spirit of Christianity transmitted to all nations by the first and greatest of the Apostles.”1 Apart altogether from his apostolic gifts, as a mere human study, he was a beautiful example, if we may yet again, ere we close, repeat the remark made in a previous chapter, of the transforming, refining power of divine grac *. The weakness and impetuosity of youth — the rashness and the prejudices of manhood passed away; — his growing years only ripening him for his crown. Like the divine vision beheld on the “holy mount,” he was transfigured before he was glorified: till at last a brighter than any halo with which the painter’s art in after ages surrounded him, encircled his white hairs and furrowed brow. It was of himself he wa3 unconsciously writing in the closing sentence of his First Epistle: “But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablisb, strengthen, settle you” (1 Pet. v. 10). However different it might have been at one time, the Hockman could in the last hour of all make the avowal with unfaltering voice, “Why cannot J follow Thee now? JL will lay down my life for Thy sake.” That life, with its strangely varying moods, its not unfrequent deflections

l “Sacred and Legendary Art,” p. 190.

from duty, rash impulses, and grievous falls, was like the mountain which, to the near view, is torn and splintered, — ploughed up with unsightly scars by spring floods and winter storms. But as we recede, and the soft autumn evening light falls upon it, the jagged outline is lost; there is seen only a mass of mellowed lustre.

We need not follow him “within the gate into the city.” While we reject its superstitious surroundings, we may feel certified of the accuracy of Giotto’s great picture in the sacristy of St Peter, where angels are represented as bearing the soul of the martyred Saint and Apostle in a bright cloud to heaven. Or the still more beautiful conception of the Florentine “Memmi,” who depicts him in his fresco standing along with two angels at the portal of Paradise, putting garlands on the heads of the many he ’ had turned to righteousness ’ as they enter hand in hand the New Jerusalem. With equal truth may the words be applied to him which Chrysostom employs regarding St Paul: “If we listen to him here, we shall certainly see him hereafter; if not as standing near him, yet see him we certainly shall, glistening near the throne of the King, where the cherubim sing the glory, where the seraphim are flying. There we shall see him as a chief and leader of the choir of the saints, and shall enjoy his generous love.”

“Nobly thy course is run,

Splendour is round it;
Bravely thy fight is won,

Martyrdom crowned it.
In the high warfare

Of heaven grown hoary,
Thou’rt gone, like the summer sun,

Shrouded in glory.”