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The Roman Church at the End of the Second Century

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  03 November 2011

George La Piana
George La Piana
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Harvard University
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Extract

During the latter part of the second century Irenaeus of Lyons, at the beginning of his treatise “Against All Heresies,” did not hesitate to state with great emphasis that Christianity had fully succeeded in keeping intact the original Christian faith, in safeguarding the unbroken continuity of the apostolic tradition, and in maintaining the unity of belief and of sacramental practice throughout all the churches scattered in the Roman Empire. One might easily remark that the very treatise which Irenaeus had set himself to write offered clear evidence that the Christian unity so emphatically affirmed by him did not really exist. Far from being united, Christianity was rent by serious doctrinal and disciplinary conflicts. Evidently Irenaeus was speaking of the oneness of the Christian faith without taking into account the divergent beliefs and practices of those groups which had been cut off from the communion of the Great Church. So understood his assumption was true: by the end of the second century the καθολικὴ ἐκκλησία did possess unity of essential belief and even a certain degree of uniformity in its organization and practice. How such a unity had been achieved is one of the most important problems in the history of early Christianity.

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Research Article
Information
Harvard Theological Review , Volume 18 , Issue 3 , July 1925 , pp. 201 - 277
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Copyright © President and Fellows of Harvard College 1925

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References

1 Adv. Haer., i. 10, 2.

2 Streeter, B. H., The Four Gospels, 1924, pp. 498 f.Google Scholar, has called attention to the importance of this problem in connection with the diffusion and canonization of the books of the New Testament: “There is a problem in early Church history which few historians have frankly faced, and which those who have tried to date the books of the New Testament in an unreal abstraction from their environment in history have strangely felt themselves absolved from even raising. How are we to account for that broad general consensus on the main lines of belief and practice to be found, amid much local diversity, throughout the loose federation of communities known as the Catholic Church which appears all over the Roman Empire by the end of the second century?” After a long enumeration of the questions which agitated the Christian communities, and on which heresies and schisms arose, Streeter concludes: “It was the acceptance by the leading Churches at an early date of an authoritative Life of Christ, interpreted in the light of the great Epistles of Paul, that made it possible for some kind of unity in the direction of doctrinal development to be preserved.” Undoubtedly it was so; it is obvious, however, that the common acceptance of a small body of authoritative literature, which was itself open to the most divergent interpretations, marks only the first step in circumscribing the tradition, and that it itself presupposes an instrument capable of using this tradition and fixing its interpretation for the purpose of securing the unity of doctrinal development. For such an instrument we must turn to the organization, since Christianity was from the beginning not a mere doctrine but also a church.

3 I have outlined the main characteristics of the internal development of the Church of Rome in the early period, and the rise of the monarchical episcopate in that church, in three other publications (Il Problema della Chiesa Latina in Roma, Rome, 1922Google Scholar; La Successione episcopale in Roma e gli albori del Primato, Rome, 1922Google Scholar; ‘La primitive comunità cristiana di Roma e l'Epistola ai Romani,’ Ricerche Religiose, Rome, May-July 1925Google Scholar), of which the present study is the continuation.

4 To the old, but in many points still useful, book of Ceuleneer (Essai sur la vie et le règne de Septime Sévère, Bruxelles, 1880Google Scholar) have now been added the recent works of Platnauer (The Life and Reign of Septimius Severus, Oxford, 1918Google Scholar) and Hasabroek, J. (Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Kaisers Septimius Severus, Heidelberg, 1921)Google Scholar, which reduce to more modest proportions the traditional opinion that Severus “was the principal author of the decline of the Roman Empire” (Gibbon, Decline and Fall, chap, v, at the end), and soften even the general assumption that Severus “planted the despotism of the East in the soil of the West” (Domaszewski, Gesch. d. röm. Reiches, II, p. 262). It is undeniable, however, that Septimius's reign marks a turning point in the history of the empire and of Roman institutions.

5 On the transformation of the conception of the Imperium see the recent work of Schultz, O. T. (Vom Prinzipat zum Dominatum. Das Wesen des römischen Kaisertums des dritten Jahrhunderts, Paderborn, 1919, pp. 21 ff.)Google Scholar. The legislation of Severus is well analyzed by Ceuleneer (pp. 271–289) and by Platnauer (pp. 158–213). Platnauer remarks: “In general we notice the markedly milder character of the laws now framed; the growing feeling that human life is precious, as such, leads to a legislative humanitarianism, the more valuable in that it does not seem to degenerate into sentimentality” (p. 181). It is not surprising that the Roman juridical schools were willing to follow this new path. Roman jurisprudence ceased to be a closed field reserved to the followers of the narrow Quiritarian tradition. The new school which opposed the old-fashioned formalism could not ignore the new elements which had gained so much importance in the social, economic, and political life of the empire. The period from Marcus Aurelius to the end of the Severan dynasty is the golden age of classical jurisprudence, and it is interesting to notice that many of the greatest jurists who most contributed to its development were men of provincial birth and of broad training. Such were Salvius Julianus, an African from Hadrumetum; Cervidius Scevola, a Greek; Aemilius Papinianus, probably an oriental related to Julia Domna; Domitius Ulpianus, who derived his origin from Tyre in Phoenicia; and, perhaps the greatest of all, Julius Paulus, who also is said to have been of Eastern origin.

6 Nothing is more instructive as a sign of the gradual transformation of Roman institutions than to follow the history of the Roman senate and of its membership. To the well-known works of Bloch and Lécrivain (Bibliot. des Écoles Françaises d' Athène et de Rome, 39, 52) a guide of inestimable value for the first three centuries of the empire has been added by Lully, G. (De Senatorum Romanorum Patria, Rome, 1918.)Google Scholar From Augustus to the Severi the number of provincial senators goes on increasing, and though the Italici formed always the largest group, most of the provinces were well represented (p. 251).

7 Moore, G. F., “The Rise of Normative Judaism,’ Harvard Theological Review, 1925, pp. 27, 37 f.Google Scholar

8 McGiffert, , The Apostles' Creed, New York, 1905Google Scholar, has endeavored to prove that “the Old Roman Symbol arose as a protest against error” (p. 12), “and not as a positive statement of the Christian faith framed quite independently of existing errors and with a primarily evangelistic or missionary purpose” (p. 12, against the theory of Harnack and Kattenbusch). The evidence for his theory given by McGiffert (pp. 106–174) is very remarkable and for several points quite conclusive. There is no doubt that the inclusion of or the emphasis upon some of the articles of the symbol must have been suggested by reaction against heretical Marcionite teaching, but it does not seem entirely safe to conclude that the symbol was a mere protest and not a positive statement of the essentials of the Christian faith of the time, merely because certain omissions make it appear inadequate to supply a complete standard of orthodoxy. If the symbol was formulated not long after the middle of the second century, as McGiffert holds, it may be said that it contained everything which at that stage of doctrinal elaboration could be considered essential to the Christian profession of faith. To be sure, the Roman presbyters of the second century must have been aware that their creed was far from being an exhaustive summary of their beliefs, and have supplemented its deficiencies in their catechetical instruction; but it would be difficult to prove that in their apprehension the creed did not contain the essential points acceptance of which made a man a Christian, namely, God the Father and Creator; Jesus the Son of God; Jesus the man who really lived on earth and suffered death; Jesus the judge to come; the Spirit; and the resurrection of the flesh. That “Christ had brought a knowledge of God's will and truth, that he was the Saviour and that he had died for our sins or for us” (p. 121) were in a general way beliefs implicitly contained in the notions of Jesus as God, Man, and Judge. To describe these truths more explicitly would have required a theological formulation for which the time was not yet ripe. As De Faye remarks, “Les chrétiens [of the second century] ont des croyances bien arrêtées, mais ces croyances ne sont pas encore cristallisées en formules claires et précises. Ainsi ils sont tous monothéistes. Ils déclarent que le plus grand bienfait que leur a procuré la foi au Christ, c'est de savoir enfin qu'il n'y a qu'un seul Dieu, Créateur du ciel et de la terre. Ne leur demandez pas à ces chrétiens des précisions sur la nature du Christ ou sur son oeuvre rédemptrice” (Origène, , I. Sa biographie et ses écrits, Paris, 1923, p. v)Google Scholar.

9 The Easter controversy of the second century has been often discussed since the 18th century. See the bibliography up to 1906 in Hefele-Leclercq, Histoire des Conciles, I, p. 133, n. 1, and for the most recent publications, Krüger, , Harvard Theological Review, January, 1921, pp. 348–349.Google Scholar

10 De Faye (Origène, p. iv,) affirms that “jusqu'à, la fin du IIe siècle la plus part des écoles gnostiques font encore partie de l'Église.” This assumption is rather misleading, since at that time the Gnostic groups already formed separate bodies with their own ritual practices, and as such they were not part of the church, that is to say of the organization, though they still assumed to be within the circle of Christianity. It is true, however, that Gnosticism as a religion separated from Christianity only in the third century. See also Buonaiuti, E., Gnostic Fragments, 1924, pp. 1–4.Google Scholar

11 H. E., v. 24, 14.

12 οὔτε αὐτοὶ ἐτήρησαν οὔτε τοῖς μετ᾽ αὐτῶν ἐπέτρεπον, καὶ οὐδὲν ἔλαττον αὐτοὶ μὴ τηροῦντες εἰρήνευον τοῖς ἀπὸ τῶν παροικιῶν ἐν αἶς ἐτηρεῖτο, ἐρχομένοις πρὸς αὐτούς · καίτοι μῦλλον ἐναντίον ἧν τὸ τηρεῖν τοῖς μὴ τηροῦσιν. καὶ οὐδέποτε διὰ τὸ εἶδος τȏυτο ἀπεβλήθησ άν τινες, ἀλλ᾽ αὐτοὶ μὴ τηρῦντες οἱ πρὸ σοῦ πρεσβύτεροι τοῖς ἀπὸ τῶν παροικιῶν τηροῦσιν ἔπεμπον εὐχαρηστίαν. The first sentence leaves room for ambiguity. A different translation is offered: ‘They did not observe it themselves and did not permit [to do so] those who were with them.’ This seems to me unacceptable because it would mean that the Roman bishops did not allow any Christian in Rome to follow the Asiatic custom, while Irenaeus wishes to emphasize the opposite, namely, that they did permit this procedure.

13 Valesius, quoted by McGiffert in his translation of Eusebius. McGiffert remarks: “It must be said that, so far as we are able to ascertain, only the Churches of Asia observed the fourteenth day at that early date, and it is difficult to imagine that the presbyters of Rome had been in the habit of sending the eucharist all the way from Rome to Asia Minor.”.

14 Ibid., p. 244, n. 20.

15 In the Liber Pontificalis it is said that Pope Melchiades “fecit ut oblationes consecratae per ecclesias ex consecratu episcopi dirigerentur, quod declaratur fermentum” (ed. Duchesne, I, p. 169). Pope Siricius (384–399) made this rule more specific (Ibid., I. p. 216). The last mention of the fermentum is in the Epistle of Innocent I (401–417) to the bishop of Gubbio: “De fermento vero, quod die dominica per titulos mittimus, superflue nos consulere voluistis, cum omnes ecclesiae nostrae intra civitatem sint constitutae, quarum presbyteri, quia die ipsa propter plebem sibi creditam nobiscum convenire non possunt, idcirco fermentum a nobis confectum per acolytos accipiunt, ut se a nostra communione, maxime ilia die, separatos non judicent” (Migne, Patr. Lat. XX, col. 556). Note the last sentence. On the ‘fermentum ‘see Cabrol et Leclercq, Dictionnaire d'Archéologie chrétienne et de Liturgie, V, col. 1371.

16 Philadel. 4. There are good reasons for thinking that the fermentum was established much earlier than the times of Melchiades. The duty to carry the eucharist was entrusted to the acolyti, who seem to have been a peculiar Roman institution for the purpose of taking the eucharist to those who were absent and, we add also, to the presbyters who presided at the various liturgical meetings of the scattered community. The institution of the acolyti belongs very likely to the second century, since about the middle of the third century they already formed a large body of minor officers in the Western Church. It has been surmised that the puzzling sentence in Victor's biography in the Liber Pontificalis: “Hic fecit sequentes cleros,” followed by no other indication, might refer to the institution of the acolytes. Harnack concludes his remarks on this point: “So mag auch die Nachricht, dass unter Viktor die Akoluthen zuerst aufgetaucht sind, auf guter Überlieferung beruhen” (Die Mission, 4 ed. 1924, p. 863, note).

17 Ed. Kroymann, , CSEL. XXVII, 1906, p. 225.Google Scholar

18 The visit of Polycarp took place about the end of the year 154 or at the beginning of 155, a few months after the election of Anicetus and when Polycarp was more than eighty years old. There is no mention that Anicetus had summoned the churches of Asia to abandon their tradition: it would be very surprising if such a thing had happened at that time. The most natural explanation is that the Asiatics of Rome, to whom Anicetus's command had been given to desist from their Easter celebration on a different date, appealed to Polycarp, who was not only the bishop of one of the most important churches of their land of origin, but was also the oldest living representative of the apostolic tradition of the Asiatic churches. Polycarp thus came to Rome not to plead the cause of the Asiatic churches, whose tradition was not directly attacked, but on behalf of the Roman group, which was an offspring of the Asiatic churches, and whose condemnation would have affected indirectly the Asiatic tradition as a whole. It is not difficult to realize that in a period in which the system of relation between churches was based solely on the spirit of mutual love and had no juridical form, a bishop like Polycarp felt a sense of responsibility for the groups of his own people to be found in other communities than his own. If the right of interference in such cases had been recognized, it would have had far-reaching consequences. Anicetus's deferential attitude toward Polycarp formed a dangerous precedent, which, as we shall see, was effectively overcome by the different and energetic policy of Victor.

19 Harnack, A., Marcion: Das Evangelium vom frenden Gott. Eine Monographie zur Geschichte der Grundlegung der katholischen Kirche (T. U. XLV), Leipzig, 1921Google Scholar. The evidence that the Marcionites had a Latin translation of their Bible is conclusive (pp. 47–54). It is derived from the passages quoted by Tertullian (Adv. Marcionem), which, as Harnack shows, were not Tertullian's own translations from the Greek Marcionite Bible, but were taken from an existing Marcionite Latin text. The fragments of this Marcionite Latin Bible and a comparison of them with the fragments of the Latin Bible of Novatian may be found in the recent book of D'Alès, A., Novatien, Étude sur la Théologie Romaine au milieu du IIIe siècle, Paris, 1925, pp. 79–82Google Scholar. This translation was probably made shortly after the middle of the second century, since, as D'Alès remarks, “la propagande marcionite battait son plain vers l'an 150 et il se pourrait que la Bible latine de Marcion ait été des lors creée à Rome comme instrument de cette propagande (idée lancée par Lietzmann, Der Römerbrief, p. 14, 15, 1919)” (p. 78 and note 1).

19a Severus appears to have been very anxious to connect his family with the dynastic tradition of the Antonini. He assumed the titles: Divi Antonini Germanici Filius; Divi Pii Anton. Nepos; Divi Hadriani Pronepos; Divi Traiani Abnepos; Divi Nervae Adnepos. But this ideal dynastic connection, significant as it is, does not change the fact that his policy was a breach in the Antonine political tradition. On the significance of this attempt of Severus see Costa, Religione e politica nell'Impero Romano, Torino, 1923, pp. 11, 17ff.

20 The great African teacher of rhetoric, Cornelius Fronto, after having passed the greater part of his life in Rome and having received all the honors that a Roman could desire, including the consulate, complains in his letters that he had never found among the Romans any sincere and warm friendship. “Simplicity, continence, truthfulness, honor are Roman virtues, but warmth of affection is not Roman, for there is nothing which, my whole life through, I have seen less of at Rome than a man unfeignedly ϕιλόστοργον. The reason why there is not even a word in our language for this virtue must, I imagine, be that in reality no one in Rome has any warm affection” (ad Verum, ii, 7, Loeb Class. Libr. II, p. 154). For the general opinion of the Romans about the Africans see a letter of Marcus Aurelius commending Ceionius Albinus from Hadrumetum, later a competitor of Severus for the empire, in which it is said: “Albino ex familia Ceionorum, Afro quidem homini sed non multa ex Afris habenti, duas cohortes alares regendas dedi.” It was a title of honor to have little of the African character even in the eyes of a philosopher like Marcus Aurelius (Julii Capitolini, Clodius Albinus, p. x).

21 Through that district ran the famous Vicus Capitis Africae, where stood the wellknown Paedagogium Caesaris, and also other vici whose names have a distinct African flavor, such as Vicus Stabuli Proconsulis, Vicus Syrtis, Vicus Byzacenus, and Vicus Capsensis. This list of names of Roman vici is found in the curious document known as the ‘Appendix Probi’, which has been often reprinted (Altfranzösische Übungsbuch von W. Foerster und E. Koschwitz, 3d. ed., 1907, pp. 226–234). It has been a subject of much discussion whether this list of vici was made in Carthage and is to be referred to a district of Carthage (G. Paris, Mélange Renier, 1867; Mélange Boissier, 1903, pp. 5–9; Sittl, ‘Die Heimat d. Appendix Probi,’ in Archiv f. latein. Lexicogr., 1889, p. 557) or, as is more commonly held, was made in a Roman school and refers to a Roman district (Ullman, Roman. Forsch., VII, 1891, p. 145; Foerster l.c.; Schanz, Gesch. d. Röm. Litt., III, 2, p. 444, 2d ed., 1913). The document is commonly assigned to the third century. The evidence, historical and archaeological, for the existence of the Vicus Capitis Africae in Rome between the Coelium and the Aventine is undeniable (Gatti, C., ‘Del Caput Africae nella seconda regione di Roma’, in Annali dell' Istituto di corr. arch., Rome, 1882, pp. 191–220).Google Scholar

22 On the possessions of Roman families in Africa see the remarkable work of Mesnage, J., L'Évangélisation de l'Afrique, Part que certaines familles Romano-Africaines y ont prise, Paris, 1914.Google Scholar

23 Cagnat, P., L'Annone d'Afrique (Mémoires de l'Acad. d'Inscrip. et Belles Lettres, XL, 1915, pp. 247 f.) On the stationes of the navicularii Africani in Ostia see Calza, ‘Le Stazioni,’ etc., in Bull. Com. Roma, 1913, pp. 178 f.; and description of new discoveries in Notizie degli Seavi, 1916, pp. 326 f.; 1920, p. 166.Google Scholar

24 G. Lully, pp. 243–249.

25 Fronto, Loeb Class. Library, II, p. 292.

26 Aelius Spartianus, the biographer of Severus, remarks that Septimius, in rebuilding the great monument in Rorne called in his honor the Septizonium, “had no other thought than that his building should strike the eyes of those who came from Africa to Rome” (xxiv, p. 3). On the special care that Septimius took of the African provinces, and on the enthusiasm of the Africans for Severus, see Leclercq, L'Afrique chrétienne, I, p. 26 and Platnauer, pp. 299 ff.

27 The origins of the African church are unknown. On the much debated question of its early Eastern or Roman connections see Monceaux, , Histoire littéraire de l'Afrique chrétienne, I, Paris, 1901, pp. 1–28Google Scholar; Leclercq, L'Afrique chrétienne, I, pp. 31–68 (Paris, 1904); and the article ‘Afrique’ by the same in DACL. I, cols. 576 ff.; Mesnage, Le Christianisme en Afrique, Paris, 1914, pp. 1–79Google Scholar (in favor of the apostolicity of the African church); Lejay, Les origines de l'Église d'Afrique, Liège, 1908 (Mélanges Kurth). The presence of Greek elements and the use of the Greek language in the early Christian community of Carthage is not necessarily an evidence of the Eastern origin of that church, since the Church of Rome at that time also consisted chiefly of Greek-speaking groups. More weight is to be found in the fact of the presence in the African liturgy of traditions which connect it directly with the churches of Asia (Monceaux, I, p. 7; Duchesne, Origines du Culte chrétien, pp. 220–222). On the complicated liturgical question see D. Cabrol, ‘Afrique, Liturgie’ in DACL. I, cols. 591 f. and Thibaut, , La Liturgie romaine. Paris, 1924Google Scholar. After all it seems to me that the conclusion of Monceaux is still the most satisfactory, that Christianity was probably introduced into Africa from Asia Minor, but spread in the interior through the missionary work of the Roman Church (I, p. 8). As for the hellenistic character of the early African church, we may accept the general statement of Leclercq: “L'Afrique fut témoin d'un essai d'hellénisme; il dura peu et il n'en resta rien” (L'Afrique chrétienne, I, p. 91).

28 Buonaiuti, E., Il Cristianesimo nell'Africa Romana, in Saggi sul Cristianesimo primitivo, Città di Castello, 1923. pp. 357–379.Google Scholar

29 Monceaux, Hist. Litt. de l'Afrique chrét., I, pp. 97–173: von Soden, Hans, Das lateinische Neue Testament in Afrika zur Zeit Cyprians (T. U, XXIII), Leipzig, 1909Google Scholar; Harnack, Geschichte der Altchristlichen Literatur, II, pp. 881 ff.; Schanz, Geschichte d. römischen Litteratur, III, 3rd ed., 1922, with complete bibliography, pp. 441–458.

30 O. Marucchi in his description of the Catacomb of Commodilla (NBAC. 1904, pp. 41–160) gives all the inscriptions with African names found in that cemetery. See also his preface to Mesnage, L'Évangélisation de l'Afrique, p. vi: “Une partie du cimetière de Commodilla a été reservée à la sépulture des Africains, qui très probablement demeuraient dans les environs de la voie d'Ostie.” On the paintings of the Ostrianum representing scenes from the Annona Africae see DACL. I, 1704, art. ‘Amphore,’ and I, 2267–2279, art. ‘Annone,’ by Leclercq. About the African Christians in Rome, Mesnage (Le Christianisme en Afrique, Paris, 1914Google Scholar) has written a few rather poetical pages, with several questionable assumptions, as for instance, that the “castra peregrina” were “sans doute, la caserne des soldats Africains de passage dans la capitate” (p. 86), or that Callistus was a deacon of Victor (p. 87). But his remark: “C'est Rome et ses Catacombes qu'il faut interroger pour avoir une idée de la puissante vitalité de l'Église d'Afrique à la fin du IIe siècle et au commencement du IIIe” (p. 85) presents in a few striking words the true situation.

31 Duchesne, Origines du culte chrétien, 2nd ed., p. 83; DACL. I, cols. 591 f., art. ‘Afrique, Liturgie,’ by Cabrol, cols. 658 ff.; art. ‘Afrique, Archéologie,’ by Leclercq; Dict. d'Hist. et Geogr. chrét., I, art. ‘Afrique,’ by Audollent.

32 That Victor was an African seems beyond doubt, though several indications found in the Liber Pontificalis concerning the land of origin of the early bishops of Rome are open to question or even entirely wrong. See: Harnack, Die Mission, 4th ed. Exk. I, ‘Die Herkunft der ersten Päpste,’ pp. 817–832, and for Victor p. 826. The earliest mention of an African Martyr in Italy is that of Caesarius, deacon in Terracina under Nero. That he was an African is affirmed by his ‘Acta’ of the late fifth or sixth century. Probably a mere invention of the writer. The supposed emigration of saints from Africa to Italy was a favorite theme of the sixth century hagiographers: Lanzoni, F., Le origini delle diocesi antiche d'Italia. Rome, 1923, p. 106 and Appendix p. 607–652.Google Scholar

33 De viris illustribus, 34; Chron. ann. 193: “Victor cuius mediocria de religione extant volumina”; Schanz, III, 3rd ed., 1922, p. 272. On the attribution to Victor of De aleatoribus, see Monceaux, I, p. 54; Bardenhewer, Geschichte der altkirchlichen Literatur, II, 2nd ed., 1914, p. 497, and Schanz, l. c, p. 376.

34 Aul. Gellius, ii. 26; xiii. 28; xix. 8–13. On Fronto's characteristics see Schanz, l. c., III, pp. 88–100. His ‘elocutio novella’ was to consist “partly of the good old Latin words which had died out in the days of classicism, and partly of new words which were in use in the language of common life but were excluded from literature” (Brook, D., Fronto and His Age, Cambridge, 1911, p. 104)Google Scholar. See also Beltrami, A., Le tendenze letterarie negli scritti di Frontone, Rome, 1907.Google Scholar

35 Marcus Aurelius to Fronto: “Tune es qui me nuper concastigaras quorsum graece scriberem?” (Loeb Class. Library, Fronto, i, p. 18).

36 It is known that Victor wrote treatises or epistles on doctrinal topics. Hippolytus, who according to the suggestion of De Rossi (Bullettino di archeologia cristiana, 1866, p. 13) had probably been a deacon or official of the Roman Church under Victor, speaks very respectfully of him.

37 Eusebius (H. E., v. 23) says that synods were held in Rome, in Palestine, Pontus, Corinth, Osroene, and “in other places,” and that all of them pronounced in favor of the Roman tradition. The fact that a synod of bishops was gathered in Rome at this time suggests that the Christian communities of Italy had begun to be organized under the episcopal régime. In the almost total absence of trustworthy historical evidence on the origin of the early Italian bishoprics, authoritative scholars like Duchesne (Histoire ancienne de l'église, I, pp. 253 ff. and 524–526) and Savio, F. (‘Alcune considerazioni sulla prima diffusione del Christianesimo in Italia,’ in Rivista di Scienze Storiche, 1914, pp. 108 ff.)Google Scholar have conjectured that during the first and in part of the second century, the Christian communities around Rome and even of Southern Italy had no bishops of their own, but were governed by the bishop of Rome through both resident and visiting presbyters and deacons. A parallel is found in the bishop of Alexandria, who for a long time was the only bishop of Egypt. Lanzoni, F. (Le origini delle diocesi antiche d'ltalia, Rome, 1923, pp. 595 ff.)Google Scholar agrees with Duchesne and Savio, but remarks that such a situation had come to an end at the time of Victor. (See remarks by Harnack, A., Die Mission und Ausbreitung d. Christentums. 4 ed. 1924, p. 866–872.)Google Scholar

It is possible, however, that bishoprics were established in Southern Italy at an early date under the influence of Eastern missionaries, and that the bishops of the Roman synod under Victor were from those regions. But it is significant that the effective episcopal organization of Italy begins about the end of the second century, and it is found well advanced about the middle of the third. Northern Italy does not offer any evidence of a Christian penetration up to that time, since, as Lanzoni has conclusively shown, the two most ancient sees north of Rome, Milan and Ravenna, were established not earlier than the late second century (p. 585). It seems, therefore, that the regions of Italy, which, with exception of a few maritime and commercial centres, were but little or not at all affected by Hellenism, began to be evangelized with a certain success at the same time that the Roman Church itself was undergoing the process of latinization. The episcopate of Victor would then mark also the turning-point in the missionary work of the Roman Church among the Latin populations of Italy. Was the Roman synod gathered by Victor an occasion for awakening his interest in such a work? Did Victor take definite steps in this direction? There is no way of knowing, but the suggestion in favor of such an hypothesis would throw light on the importance of Victor's episcopate, which has generally been overlooked by the historians except for a few remarks by Langen, in his Geschichte der römischen Kirche, I, Bonn, 1881, pp. 179 ff.

38 Buonaiuti, E., ‘The Ethics and Eschatology of Methodius of Olympus,’ Harvard Theological Review, July, 1921, p. 264.Google Scholar

39 Needless to say, this contrast between the spirit of renunciation of the early Christian tradition and the practical exigencies of the ecclesiastical organization was not peculiar to Rome. It was felt everywhere in the church, and everywhere long produced disturbing movements. It was at the root of Montanism in Asia. The hypothesis of Calder (‘Philadelphia and Montanism,’ Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, Manchester, 1923, pp. 309–354Google Scholar) of the existence in Asia Minor, from the time when the Apocalypse was written, of two antagonistic missionary schools, one in the Northern provinces and spreading along the valley of the Maeander river, which emphasized the apocalyptic hope, and urged an austere morality and an uncompromising attitude toward the world, the other centring in Philadelphia, with a milder interpretation of the ethics of the Gospel, is little more than a suggestion, but it would leave room for a sufficient period of incubation to account for the sudden rise of Montanism about the middle of the second century.

40 On this topic a learned article has recently been published by Lebreton, J. (‘Le désaccord de la foi populaire et de la théologie savante dans l'Église chrétienne du IIIe siècle,’ Revue d'Histoire Ecclésiastique, Louvain, 1923, pp. 481–506Google Scholar and following number) in which are collected and analyzed important passages of third-century writers. Lebreton emphasizes the difference between the learned groups, which claimed to be the best champions of Christianity and complained of being misunderstood and suspected by the unlearned, and the popular groups led often by presbyters and bishops who considered all philosophical speculation foreign to Christianity and dangerous to faith. But besides these two classes, there were, remarks Lebreton, “des esprits supérieurs, âmes saintes, intelligences droites et fortes, qui ne se laissent ni éblouir ni effrayer.” Such were Irenaeus, Cyprian, and the great Roman bishops Fabian and Dionysius; they were the real representative of the true tradition (p. 491). But the most radical attempt to make of this distinction the main characteristic of the doctrinal situation in the early centuries and the key to the explanation of their peculiar forms of doctrinal development is the recent book of McGiffert, A. C., The God of the Early Christians, New York, 1924Google Scholar. According to Professor McGiffert the problem, “how to explain the addition of the worship of Christ to the worship of God,” to which historians have hitherto confined themselves, is one-sided. Another problem equally pressing is, “how to explain the addition of the worship of God to the worship of Christ” (pp. 63–64). This would imply the existence of considerable sections of Christians who recognized only Jesus Christ as their God, excluding or ignoring the God of Israel inherited by Christianity. Modalism would in the last analysis represent the reaction of this purely gentile Christianity against all attempts to make of Christ a subordinate God. Their identification of the Father and the Son, suggested as it was by practical and not speculative reasons, aimed only to safeguard the uniqueness of the God Christ. The system however was philosophically unsound, and could not overcome the learned theology of the Logos (p. 108). Though it cannot be said that there is any definite evidence of the existence of such a distinct purely gentile Christianity, it is undeniable that in the consciousness of large popular Christian groups Christ was the real object of piety; yet is it necessary to assume that they altogether ignored God the Father, even if in their worship the thought of Him had but little value? The confusion in applying the term God both to the God of Israel and to Christ found in certain primitive writings would suggest the juxtaposition of the two conceptions correlated by the idea of the Sonship, rather than the denial of one of them. The theory of Professor McGiffert is however very suggestive, and with certain limitations may be adopted as a good explanation of various otherwise obscure problems of early doctrinal development.

41 H. E., v. 28.

42 Adv. Haer. ii. 28; ii. 26.

43 Eusebius, H. E., v. 15; 20; 28. In what the novelty of Florinus's teaching consisted is difficult to say. The titles of Irenaeus's treatises against him mentioned by Eusebius would suggest specific Gnostic doctrines. Among the Syrian fragments of Irenaeus is one which purports to be part of a letter written by Irenaeus to Victor about Florinus, “a follower of Valentinus and author of an abominable book.” From this letter it appears that it was Irenaeus who called Victor's attention to the heretical character of Florinus's teaching: “Nunc autem, quia forte vos lateant libri eorum qui etiam ad nos usque pervenerunt, notum facio vobis ut pro vestra dignitate ejiciatis e medio scripta ilia, opprobrium quidem afferentia in vos, quia scriptor jactaverit se unum esse e vobis” (Harvey's ed., Cambridge, 1857, II, p. 457). The connection of Florinus's teaching with the tradition which went back to Tatian and through Tatian to Justin Martyr, has been suggested by Karsen, K. (‘Irenaeus von Lyon und der römische Presbyter Florinus’, Der Katholik, 1910, II, pp. 40–50Google Scholar; 88–105), who attempted to identify Florinus with Florens Tertullian of Carthage. This identification was strongly opposed by Kock, H. (‘Tertullian und der römische Presbyter Florinus’, Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, 1912, pp. 59–83)Google Scholar, to whom Larsten replied with a further article (‘Zur Kontroverse über den angeblichen Ketzer Florinus's, Ibid., pp. 133–156). Kock's view, however, has been rejected on good grounds by A. Baumstark (‘Die Lehre des römischen Presbyter Florinus’, Ibid., pp. 306–319), who called attention to the exposition of Florinus's Gnostic teaching found in the ‘Kitab al unvan,’ an historical compilation of the Melkite chronicler Agapios, bishop of Hierapolis-Minbii in the tenth century (Patrologia Orientalis, tom. V, fasc. 4; VII, 4; VIII, 3. (The passage concerning Florinus is in VII, pp. 516–517, translation by Vasiliev.) By the passage of Agapios, the Gnostic character of Florinus's teaching and the impossibility of identifying him with Tertullian is strongly confirmed. But even if Karsten's assumption that Florinus's Valentinianism was a mere exaggeration of Irenaeus be rejected, his suggestion that the Logos doctrine of the school started by Justin and continued by Tatian played a part in the doctrinal controversies of Rome at that period is very valuable. Florinus may well have represented that tradition, even if in his Valentinian sympathies he went a step further than Tatian.

44 Eusebius, H. E., v. 28. The teaching of the Adoptionist schismatic group established by Theodotus the currier was developed further by Theodotus the banker and finally by the school of Artemon. It seems that gradually the Adoptionist church of Rome became a circle of literary and learned men who not only ascribed great importance to philosophy and science, but occupied themselves with biblical studies, especially in restoring the text to supposed primitive correctness, and in grammatical and literal exegesis. The fact, however, of their choice of the ignorant confessor Natalia as their bishop at the beginning of the episcopate of Zephyrinus would suggest that this great interest in learning was not characteristic of the first Theodotian group, but a later development. It is more probable that at the beginning the group was formed of popular elements under the leadership of the new theologians.

45 Philosophumena, ix. 11, ed. P. Wendland, 1916, p. 246.

46 The most comprehensive work on Montanism is still Labriolle, La Crise Montaniste, Paris, 1913, and his collection of the sources, Les sources de l'histoire du Montanisme, Paris, 1913Google Scholar, which have superseded both the previous study and the collection of sources of Bonwetsch (1881). A full bibliography up to 1913, is to be found in La Crise, pp. vii–xx. Among recent publications the most remarkable are Faggiotto, L'Eresia dei Frigi, Fonti e Frammenti, Rome, 1924Google Scholar, and Tertulliano e la Nuova Profezia, Rome, 1924Google Scholar. Faggiotto subjects the sources to a new and painstaking revision, and draws from them conclusions which are in many ways different from those of Labriolle. Above all Faggiotto seems convinced that ascetic tendencies and practices did not have in the early period of the movement the importance commonly attributed to them, and that these became characteristic of Montanism only later. It was in the beginning a mere revival of prophetism based on a vivid apocalyptic expectation, and did not teach any heretical doctrines, nor take an antagonistic attitude towards the church organization. As a consequence, Faggiotto emphasizes the distinction between the first period of the New Prophecy and the second period of the Heresy of the Phrygians. Among the questions of detail concerning the sources, Faggiotto, as it seems, has solved the problem of the enigmatic Miltiades mentioned by Eusebius (H. E., v. 16), and against the common opinion, which sees in Miltiades one of the new prophets, makes of him a writer against Montanism to be identified with Miltiades the apologist (L'Eresia dei Frigi, pp. 25–35).

47 Tertullian, Adv. Praxeam 1: “Nam idem tunc episcopum Romanum agnoscentem iam prophetias Montani, Priscae, Maximillae, et ex ea agnitione pacem ecclesiis Asiae et Phrygiae inferentem, falsa de ipsis prophetis et ecclesiis eorum adseverando et praedecessorum eius auctoritatem defendendo, coegit et litteras pacis revocare iam emissas et a proposito recipiendorum charismatum concessare.” The interpretation of this passage has provoked endless discussions. A detailed analysis of the various opinions is to be found in Labriolle, La Crise, pp. 257–275.

48 Eleutherus is the choice of Schwegler, Ritschl, A. Réville, Lipsius, Bonwetsch, Duchesne; Victor is preferred by Langen, Hilgelfeld, Zahn, Voigt, Monceaux, Preuschen, Esser, Faggiotto; Labriolle proposes Zephyrinus. Leclercq simplifies the question by suggesting three successive episcopal edicts in Rome concerning the Montanists: one by Eleutherus “provoked by the letter of the confessors of Lyons (Eus. H. E., v. 3); a second by Victor provoked by the intervention of Praxeas mentioned by Tertullian; and a third by Zephyrinus provoked by the issue of the debates between Proclus and Gaius (H. E., ii. 25; iii. 28; vi. 29)” (Hist. d. Conciles, I, p. 133, note). As a matter of fact, what complicates this whole question is Tertullian's affirmation that Praxeas “coegit” the Roman bishop “praedecessorum ems auctoritatem defendendo.” These words are interpreted as meaning that at least two of the predecessors of the bishop had already passed an unfavorable judgment on the new prophecy. If therefore Victor was the bishop in question, it would follow that Soter and Eleutherus had condemned Montanism. This assumption seems to receive confirmation from the passage of the ‘Liber Praedestinatus’ which says that Soter wrote a treatise, or a letter, against the Cataphrygians (i. 26). But the Praedestinatus, a compilation of the late fifth century, has been shown to be entirely untrustworthy on all kinds of historical information, and strong chronological reasons make it impossible for Soter to have taken any part in this controversy. It seems that Montanism did not reach Rome and was not discussed there before the year 177 under Eleutherus (Faggiotto, La Diaspora, pp. 39–40). That Eleutherus was concerned with the question is undeniable, since to him among others the confessors of Lyons sent their appeal for the peace of the church. But that Eleutherus issued a definite condemnation of Montanism is unlikely. If such had been the case; there would have been no need for his successor to pass a new judgment; the hesitation and still more the approval of Victor would be a puzzle. We must admit that an explicit condemnation of Montanism on the part of Rome had not occurred when Praxeas urged the bishop to withdraw his letter of approval of the new prophecy. That being so, what is the value of Tertullian's obscure statement? It seems to me that in view of these difficulties it is impossible to assign to it a specific meaning, or to see in it a direct reference to the Montanist problem. It remains to interpret it in a general way, and to assume that Praxeas urged the Roman bishop not to depart from the policy of his predecessors, who had always been opposed to the introduction of novelties in the church.

49 It is well to keep in mind the wise remark of P. Batiffol: “L'épiscopat ne prenait pas ombrage de la persistence des charismes prophétiques. Comme au temps de Saint Paul, on jugeait le prophète d'abord à sa sainteté, et tout autant à sa soumission à la hiérarchie. Le montanisme ne proclamait aucune nouveauté, quand il disait: Il faut pracrecevoir les charismes et qu'il y ait des charismes dans l'Église. (Epiph., Haer., 48, 2.) La nouveauté du montanisme fut de vouloir imposer ses révelations particulières comme un supplément au dépôt de la foi, et de vouloir les accrediter par des extases suspectes et des convulsions” (L'Eglise naissante, 9th ed., 1922, p. 264). But even so, “La décision à prendre était complexe: il fallait sauvegarder le principe de l'action surnaturelle de l'Esprit, et en même temps le définir” (Ibid., p. 266).

50 Labriolle remarks on this point: “C'est bien gratuitement que l'on suppose chez Victor cette étrange disposition, aussi peu charitable que possible, qui l'aurait induit à susciter à l'épiscopat d'Asie des difficultés très graves pour le plaisir d'exercer sa vengeance contre lui, et pour le punir de ses résistances dans la question pascale. On prête à ce caractère obstiné et violent des precédés mesquins qui ne lui vont guère” (La Crise, p. 273). To put the question in this way is to misunderstand the situation. It was not a petty vengeance, but rather a question of principle which involved the right of each bishop to pass judgment on controversies affecting his own church, according to the local situation and not according to the exigencies of other churches. The bishops of Asia, in the name of their local autonomy and their local needs, had refused to coöperate with Victor for the pacification of his own community in the Easter question; it was natural that in the question of Montanism Victor should adopt the same policy with reference to the local situation in Rome, which made him feel an approval of the new prophecy to be desirable.

51 It is commonly surmised that the Montanists of Asia had asked for the intervention of the bishop of Rome (“Il dut y avoir, de la part des Montanistes, un nouvel effort pour se faire reconnaître à Rome, car pour quoi le pape aurait-il pris l'initiative d'un tel acte?” Labriolle, La Crise, p. 260), and that their appeal to Rome shows that the consciousness of the superior authority of the Roman bishop was already present in the whole church. “Notez, avec M. Harnack, qu'il ne s'agissait pas là de Montanistes romains, mais que les Montanistes de Phrygie et d'Asie étaient visiblement en instance pour se faire reconnaître, eux et le principe de la nouvelle prophétie: le jugement de Rome leur importait donc!” (Batiffol, L'Église naissante, p. 267). It is very likely that the Montanists of Asia were doing their best to enlist the support not only of the Roman Church, but also of the bishops of the communities where Montanism had found followers. But to see in this a manifestation of definite principles affecting the hierarchical government of the church as a whole, is a rather far-fetched conclusion. No less arbitrary is it to exclude from the controversy the Montanists of Rome and to assume that those of Asia were the only ones concerned in the decisions of the Roman bishop. The approval of the Roman bishop, communicated in the prepared but not yet delivered letter, concerned Montanism as a whole; it was an approval of the new prophecy as represented by the Roman groups as well as by the other groups everywhere. It is therefore natural to surmise that the Roman Montanists, both in their own interest and in the interest of their Asiatic brethren, urged the bishop of Rome to make known his approval in the hope of overcoming the opposition of the bishops of Asia.

52 The hesitation of Victor may receive some further light by comparing it with the attitude of Irenaeus toward Montanism. Irenaeus was the man who as a presbyter of the Church of Lyons brought to Rome the letter of the Gallican martyrs to Eleutherus, a touching appeal for the peace of the church and, as it seems, a warning against a hasty condemnation of the new prophecy. In his ‘Adversus Haereses’ Irenaeus does not mention the Montanists, although in one passage he indirectly refers to the false prophets who deny that the church possesses the prophetic charismata (iii. 11, 9). Evidently what Irenaeus condemned was the claim, made by some fanatics of the new prophecy, to the sole possession of the Paraclete; but at the time when he wrote, that is to say under Eleutherus in Rome, he had no reason to condemn the whole movement or to consider it as a heresy or even a schism. A few years later under Victor the situation in Rome must have been still the same, and his attitude would not have been very different from that of Irenaeus.

53 The famous passage of Irenaeus: “Ad hanc enim ecclesiam [Rome] propter potentiorem principalitatem necesse est omnem convenire ecclesiam, hoc est eos qui sunt undique fideles, in qua semper ab his qui sunt undique conservata est ea quae est ab apostolis traditio” (iii. 3), which has been the subject of so many discussions and interpretations, might take on a more definite value if understood in the light of the situation in Rome about the end of the second century, as we have tried to describe it. Undoubtedly the phraseology is strange, but when we reflect that what we have is a translation, the repetion of ‘undique’ in an awkward clause is not necessarily the sign of a scribal error, as Dom Morin has suggested. It seems to me that the clause ‘ab his qui sunt undique’ might well be understood as referring to the composite character of the Roman community, where so many various groups represented the various traditions of Christianity which, according to Irenaeus, fundamentally agreed (Adv. Haer, i. 10, 2). The preceding clause, ‘hoc est eos qui sunt undique fideles,’ is an explanation of the meaning of the term ‘omnem ecclesiam’ and though ‘undique’ might have been improperly used for ‘ubique,’ there can be little doubt that it means ‘the faithful who are in all the Christian communities.’ The general sense would then be: ‘with the Church of Rome must agree every church, that is to say all the faithful from every community, because in the Church of Rome by those who have gone there from all communities the apostolic tradition has always been kept unchanged.’ The ‘potentior principalitas’ of the Roman Church could then be understood as referring not only to its priority in time, but also to its being the representative not of a single local tradition but of the tradition of the whole church, on account of the composite character of the Roman community. See Batiffol, L'Église naissante, pp. 250–252, and Le Catholicisme de Saint Augustine, 1920, p. 102, in which he revises his earlier opinion on the meaning of ‘principalis,’ found in a similar phrase (‘ecclesia principalis’) of Cyprian and usually interpreted as that of Irenaeus. On this point see D'Alès, A., La Théologie de Saint Cyprien, Paris, 1922, pp. 389–395.Google Scholar

54 H. E., v. 21.

55 A complete account of the discoveries of De Rossi and of subsequent archaeological discoveries throwing light on the Christian aristocratic families of Rome is presented by Dom Leclercq in art. ‘Aristocratiques (Classes)’ DACL. I, 2845–2886.

56 Celsus had already made this remark (Origen, Contra Celsum, iii. 44, 55), and Hippolytus says the same thing against the Callistians (Philos. ix. 12).

57 Philos. ix. 12. On the assumed Christian profession of Marcia, see DACL. I, 2860–2863.

58 The historical evidence that about the middle of the third century the Church of Rome had for a long time been in legal possession of cemeteries was gathered and analyzed by De Rossi (Roma Sotterranea, i, pp. 101 ff.). Kirsch, J. P. (‘Die christliche Cultusgebäude in der vorkonstantinischen Zeit,’ in Festschrift d. deutschen Campo Santo in Rom, Freiburg, 1897, pp. 6–20)Google Scholar collected numbers of texts giving evidence that about the end of the second century or the beginning of the third the Christians had special meeting-places for their religious cult and that these places, even in the eyes of the government, belonged to the Christian communities. But how was it possible for a persecuted religion to enjoy the right of possession of cemeteries and meeting-places is difficult to explain. Tillemont was the first to suppose that in the period of Severus Alexander (222–235), who is described by his biographer Lampridius as very sympathetic to the Christians, the church obtained a certain legal recognition. With better reasons De Rossi was led to set the date earlier, and pointed to the period of Septimius Severus as the one most likely to have offered to the church the opportunity to act as a legal corporation.

59 Roma Sott., II. The whole second volume of this monumental work consists of a detailed description and history of the Catacombs of Callistus. For all subsequent discoveries and studies see the collections of the Bullettino and of the Nuovo Buliettino di archeologia cristiana, Rome, 1863–1923, and the monograph of Leclercq, DACL. II, 1665–1774.

60 Caracalla became caesar in 196 after the last surrender of Niger's party and at the beginning of the new war against Albinus. Spartianus's statement is confirmed by numismatic evidence. It was at the time when Caracalla was made caesar and imperator designatus that he assumed also the name of Antoninus, and not in 198 as Lampridius says. This is also confirmed by numismatic evidence (Platnauer, pp. 103, 124, n. 3; Hasebroek pp. 86–90; De Ruggero, Dizion. Epigr. II, p. 197). The two earlier rescripts in which Caracalla appears as joint ruler with Septimius are dated in the Digest, January 1, 196 (Cod. Just., ix. 41, 1), and June 30, 196 (iv. 19, 1). Since, however, Caracalla was saluted caesar only in September of 196, both dates are wrong and must be shifted to the following year (Platnauer, p. 103, n. 3). At any rate the rescript of the collegia tenuiora must have been published at least three years before Victor's death.

61 Étude historique sur leg corporations professionnelles des Romains, I, pp. 141–153, and art. ‘Collegia,’ in DACL. III, 2112–2113.

62 Duchesne (Histoire ancienne de l'Église, I, pp. 381–387, and in earlier publications) and Schulze (De christianorum veterum rebus sepulcralibus, Gotha, 1879) were the first seriously to attack De Rossi's theory, which is also rejected by such authoritative scholars in the field of early Christian history as Batiffol, Harnack, Sohm, and Kirsch. One of the most competent writers on the subject of the Roman collegia, Waltzing, has also rejected it. The theory of De Rossi, however, is still followed by many Roman archaeologists and by Dom Leclercq. A detailed exposition and discussion of the two theories with reference to the sources and complete bibliography is found in DACL., articles ‘Agape,’ ‘Area,’ ‘Calliste,’ ‘Catacombes’ by Leclercq, and article ‘Collegia’ by Waltzing.

63 Waltzing, after having remarked: “De Rossi ne soutient pas seulement que le gouvernement laissait se commettre une fraude légale, mais qu'il y prêtait lui-même les mains, qu'il était de connivence avec les contravenants, puisqu' il leur reconnaissait formellement les privilèges des collèges funéraires,” concludes that to simplify the juridical question it is better to assume outright that the government “fermait les yeux sur un catégorie d'associations religieuses sans leur conférer aucun droit, et il leur permettait de vivre sous le régime du droit commun, comme â beaucoup d'associations religieuses, professionnelles et autres” (DACL. III, 2115–2116).

64 After the discovery of the Greek and of the Armenian text of the Acta Apollonii the fact of his martyrdom in Rome under Commodus is commonly admitted. Not, however, the legend that Apollonius was a senator and that his trial took place before the Senate. A full account of the complicated problem of Apollonius's trial is given in DACL. art. ‘Droit persecuteur,’ IV, 1633–1648; bibliography, ibid., Nos. 4–14).

65 Tertullian, Apologeticus, 1, 7.

66 The searching criticism of K. Bihlmeyer (Die syrischen Kaiser zu Rom und das Christentum, 1916) on Lampridius's biography of Alexander has greatly reduced the value of this witness to the friendly attitude of the emperor toward Christianity and to the assumed Christian influences upon his religious thinking, so much emphasized by many historians, as for instance by P. Allard, Histoire des Persécutions, II, pp. 183–205.

67 Roma Sott., II, pp. 240–244.

68 Ibid., p. 244. The bricks used in the corridor leading to the staircase and in the staircase itself all have the trade-mark of two fishes and the inscription, ‘Opus doliare ex praediis domini nostri et figulinis novis.’ This trade-mark is well known to archaeologists; it belonged to the imperial brick-factories of the time of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus. “The constant uniformity of the bricks used in a construction is an evident proof,” says De Rossi, “that they were new bricks coming from the factories and form a sure index of the date of the construction.” When old material was used, we commonly find a mixture of bricks belonging to various periods and to different factories. The staircase, therefore, was built either during the last years of Commodus or shortly after his death (ibid., p. 241).

69 DACL. II, 1696.

70 Roma Sott. II, Introd. chap. 2, pp. xxii–xliii, 113–161, 361–365.

71 DACL. II, 1691, n. 1; 2712–2738.

72 Philos. ix. 12 (ed. Wendland, p. 248). The whole passage reads as follows: “After [Victor's] falling asleep, Zephyrinus having selected [Callistus] as assistant in the government [reformation?] of the clergy, honored him to his own detriment, and calling him back from Antium set him over the cemetery.”.

73 Roma Sott., I, p. 197; II, p. 370; Bull. arch. crist., 1867, pp. 8–12. Dom Leclercq (DACL. II, 1693) comments on the passage from Hippolytus as follows: “A la fin du IIe siècle il ne peut venir à l'esprit de personne de supposer que la communauté chrétienne de Rome ne possédait qu'un seul cimetière, en ce cas, pourquoi ne pas dire que Calliste fut préposé à la direction d'un cimetière, ou de l'un des cimetières?” The logical answer to this question seems to be that the term ‘the cemetery’ was used without qualification because it belonged already to the community when Callistus assumed its management. But on the contrary, the answer of Leclercq is that at that time it did not belong to the community, but was acquired later by Callistus. Then what becomes of the value of the evidence?

74 Ed. Duchesne, I, p. 141.

75 Ibid., p. 139.

76 Roma Sott., II, pp. 4–13, 50–51. De Rossi himself, however, presents his theory as a mere hypothesis: “If in the most conspicuous place of the papal sepulchral chamber was laid, as is credible, a pope, I do not see to whom to assign that place better than to Zephyrinus. Perhaps Xystus III decided later to give that place to his famous predecessor Xystus II, and this might have caused the translation of Zephyrinus to the upper chapel. But it is certain that Xystus III in the catalogue put within the crypta made no mention of Zephyrinus.” In his later pages, however, De Rossi treats the fact of Zephyrinus's first burial in the crypta as quite certain, and builds on it the whole theory of the crypta papalis.

77 Roma Sott., II, pp. 4–97; DACL. II, 1665, n. 1.

78 Any connection between the two events is energetically rejected by De Rossi. The question of the transfer of Peter's and Paul's relics to the place ‘Ad Catacumbas’ on the Appian Way, has been discussed afresh after the new excavations of recent years in the Basilica of St. Sebastian ad Catacumbas. See bibliography on this question in my article, ‘The Tombs of the Apostles ad Catacumbas,’ Harvard Theological Review, 1921, p. 87, and Lietzmann's article on the same question in the number for April, 1923. For the new excavations of 1921–23, see O. Marucchi in Nuovo Bull. arch. cris., 1921, pp. 3–14; and 1923, pp. 3–27. The further evidence found in these excavations continues to make probable the theory that the transfer really took place, but a definite and final proof is still lacking, and the question of the date still presents serious difficulties. See Erbes, K., ‘Die geschichtlichen Verhältnisse der Apostelgräber in Rom,’ Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 1924, pp. 38–92.Google Scholar

79 This fact that Callistus was not buried in his catacomb not in the crypta papalis, which is supposed to have been already in existence and inaugurated by the tomb of Zephyrinus, has puzzled the archaeologists and historians, who have seen in it “une étrange bizarrerie du sort” (Leclercq, DACL. II, 1660). An explanation was sought in the apocryphal Acta Callixti, in which it is said that Callistus by order of the Emperor Alexander Severus was stoned to death, thrown in a pit, and then buried by the Christians in the cemetery of Calepodius. Tillemont (Mémoires, III, p. 251) suggested that the unusual way in which Callistus was put to death suits better an irregular execution by a mob than a regular trial. De Rossi accepted this suggestion. Duchesne formulated in a more definite way the theory that Callistus was killed by an angry mob, which “détournant les fidèles de Rome de tenter le passage du Tibre et de s'aventurer sur la voie Appienne, les força de s'échapper avec le corps de leur évêque, par la porte la plus voisine du théâtre de sa mort” (Lib. Pont., I, p. xliii). The explanation is ingenious, but is only an hypothesis based on the acceptance of one part of the apocryphal acts and the rejection of the rest.

80 The question of Urbanus's resting-place is one of the most complicated in Christian archaeology. The Liber Pontificalis and the ancient martyrologies said: “Urbanus sepultus est in cymiterio Praetextati,” but the apocryphal Acta S. Caeciliae and some manuscripts of the Martyrologium Hieronymianum said: “in coemeterio Callisti.” It seems that in the list of interments in the crypta papalis which Xystus III caused to be inscribed on a tablet in the crypta, the name of Urbanus did not appear (DACL. II, 1730). The hypothesis of two Urbani, one the bishop of Rome and the other a bishop of some other city who died in Rome on a visit, and of a confusion between them was formulated by De Rossi (Roma Sott., II, pp. 52–54). The discovery of a slab in the crypta papalis with the name of Urbanus seems to confirm the statement that the bishop of Rome was buried there. It must be noticed, however, that the name is engraved not on the face of the slab but on one side, and the inscription itself shows a peculiar form of the letter A. De Rossi thinks that these peculiarities confirm the archaic character of the slabs. Others on the contrary think that they show a later period (Wilpert, Die Papstgräber und die Caeciliengruft, Freiburg, 1909, p. 17). Authoritative scholars still think that Urbanus was buried in the cemetery of Praetextatus, and that the Urbanus lying in St. Callistus was a later bishop from some other city (Kirsch, Cath. Encycl., XV, p.209).

81 DACL. II, 2425.

82 In the third century cemeteries of heretics must have been very numerous. The Novatianists had their own (De Rossi, Bull. arch. cris., 1863, p. 20); the followers of Hippolytus had also their own catacomb, and there his body was buried after it was brought back from Sardinia (Marucchi, Éléments d'archéologie chrét., I, 337; II, 296). The Sabellians had a cemetery in which originally stood the well-known inscription: “Qui et Filius diceris et Pater inveniris” (De Rossi, Bull., 1866, p. 95). De Rossi, however, thinks that it belongs to the fourth century. In 1903 a small cemetery was discovered on the Via Latina which probably belonged to a group of Valentinians and in which probably was originally placed the famous Gnostic inscription for a woman (CIG. IV, 9595a; Marucchi, Nuovo Bull., 1903, pp. 301–314). In 1910 another hypogeum was discovered on the same Via Latina, which is known as the sepulchre of Trebius Justus (Kanzler, Nuovo Bull., 1911, pp. 201–207). From the paintings and the decorations Marucchi concluded that this also belonged to a Gnostic group (Nuovo Bull., 1911, pp. 209–235). On the cemeteries of the heretics in general and their characteristics see De Rossi, Roma Sott., I, pp. 108–109; Marucchi, N. Bull., 1903, p. 304; Leclercq, DACL. II, 2383.

83 Bendinelli, G., ‘Ipogeo con pitture scoperto presso il Viale Manzoni,’ Notizie degli Scavi, 1920, pp. 123–141Google Scholar; and ‘Nuove scoperte,’ ibid., 1921, pp. 230–234.

84 Ibid., 1920, p. 140.

85 O. Marucchi, Nuovo Bull., 1921, pp. 44–47, 83–93; Grossi-Gondi, Civiltà Cattolica, Rome, 1921, pp. 2, 127; de Jerphanion, G., ‘Les dernières découvertes dans la Rome souterraine, in Les Études, 5 Avril 1922, pp. 59–80Google Scholar. In his second article Marucchi very ingeniously interprets the paintings of this hypogeum as representing scenes from the book of Job, which, as is known from Clement of Alexandria (Stromata, iv. 12), was used by some Gnostics and especially by Basilides in their effort to solve the obscure problem of evil (Buonaiuti, Gnosticismo, p. 164). His theory has not been accepted by all (Wilpert, Jerphanion), but all agree that this cemetery belonged to heretics, and that it was established in the late second century.

86 Of the Novatianists it is said that they stole from the cemetery on the Via Salaria the body of St. Silanus and concealed it in their catacomb (De Rossi, Bull., 1863, p. 20). Under the Emperor Maximus two Tertullianists who settled in Rome from Africa were granted a permit to build a ‘collegium extra muros urbis,’ and they came by force into possession of the tomb of the martyrs Processus and Martinianus, but after the fall of Maximus they were expelled from the place (DACL. II, 2383).

87 De Rossi agrees that the appearance of cemeteries owned by the Christian communities is simultaneous in Rome and in Africa. But he naturally assigns them to the period of Zephyrinus: “The first signs of cemeteries belonging to the corporation of the Christians and openly administered in the name of the corporation appear in Rome and in Africa under Zephyrinus” (Roma Sott., II, p. 370). Since, however, his main argument for the existence of such corporations is based on the 39th chapter of the Apologeticus of Tertullian, which was written in 197 before Zephyrinus became bishop, his statement involves a contradiction.

88 It is interesting to notice that the family of the Caecilii, which granted to Victor the property of their hypogeum on the Appian Way, was one of those families which had branches in Africa. The Caecilii of Cirta were among the most illustrious aristocratic families of Roman Africa. It is true, however, that there is no evidence that Christianity was embraced by any of them before the third century (F. Mesnage, L'Évangélisation de l'Afrique, p. 69). In the Octavius of Minucius Felix the pagan opponent is an African Caecilius. F. Mesnage has studied in his work the question of the possible influence of the aristocratic Roman-African families in the development of the African church. More than thirty African bishoprics of the third and fourth centuries were established in places called by the names of those families and belonging to their domain (pp. 1–4). There are traces, however, that Christian members of African aristocratic families may have played a part in the Christian propaganda in Rome. The inscription of Petilius dictated by one Fronto in the catacombs of Callistus (De Rossi, Roma Sott., II, p. 116; Mesnage, pp. 65–68) may offer some suggestions. But the material is here very scanty, and we are too much inclined to speak of Roman influence on Africa rather than vice versa. Thus Dom Leclercq remarks: “Il n'est pas douteux que sa [Victor's] présence à Rome n'ait exercé une influence considérable et définitive sur l'Église d'Afrique. Ce pape latin sut tourner ses compatriotes africains vers le génie latin et la langue latine” (Afrique chrétienne, I, p. 93). Without denying the possible influence of Victor on the African church it seems, however, more proper to say that this African Latin pope first turned the hellenistic church of Rome towards the Latin genius and the Latin language.