e.g. the Jewish inference from the humility of Christ that He was only man, and from His miraculous power that He was a magician, and not the Logos of God; the record of the darkening of the sun at the crucifixion preserved in the secret archives of the empire; the reason for the seclusion of the Lord after the resurrection, viz. "that the wicked should be freed from their error, and that faith destined for so glorious a reward should be established upon difficulty"; his own opinion that Caesars (such as Tiberius) would have believed in Christ, if they could have been Caesars and Christians at the same time; the sufferings of the disciples at the hands of the Jews; and at last, through Nero's cruelty, the sowing the seed of Christianity at Rome in their blood (cf. c. l.). He concludes: "Deum colimus per Christum." Count Him a mere man if you like. By Him and in Him God wishes to be known and worshipped.
One more point remained. Romans considered their position as masters of the world the reward of their religious devotion to their gods, and affirmed that they who paid their gods the most service flourished the most. Tertullian traverses this "assumption" in ironical terms, or meets it with positive denial.
(4) Chaps. xxviii.–xxxvi.—The charge laesae augustioris majestatis is now reached. The evil spirits stirred up the heathen to compel Christians to sacrifice pro salute imperatoris; and that compulsion was met by resistance not less determined. Ironically does Tertullian commend in the heathen the dread with which they regarded Caesar as more profound and reverential than that which they accorded to the Olympian Jupiter. Christians were counted publici hostes, because they would not pay to the emperor vain, lying, or unseemly honours; and because, as verae religionis homines, they kept the festival days not lasciviously, but as conscientious men. Truly if public joy was to be expressed by public shame, the Christians deserved condemnation.
(5) Chaps. xxxvii.–xlv.—This section, dealing with minor points of objection to the Christians, opens with an impassioned protest on behalf of men who, actuated by the principle "Idem sumus imperatoribus qui et vicinis nostris," never took vengeance for the wrongs done to them. Mob-law had attacked them with stones and fire, or with Bacchanalian fury had torn their dead from the graves to rend their bodies asunder. Had Christianity tolerated repaying evil with evil, what secret vengeance could have been wrought in a single night with a torch or two! Or, had they determined to act as open enemies, what numbers and resources would they have had! "We are but of yesterday," is Tertullian's proud boast (cf. c. i.), "and yet we have filled your cities, fortresses, towns, assemblies, camp, palace, senate, and forum: sola vobis reliquimus templa. Should we determine to separate from you and betake ourselves to some remote corner of the globe, your loss of so many citizens would cover you with shame. The solitude, silence, and stupor as of a dead world would fill you with fear. You would have to seek subjects to govern. Your enemies would be more numerous than your citizens. At present it is your Christian citizens who make your enemies so few." Tertullian therefore asks that Christians should be admitted "inter licitas factiones." The "sect" was incapable of any such acts as were dreaded in forbidden societies. If they had indeed their own occupations (negotia), why should that give offence? For what were the "negotia Christianae factionis"? (c. xxxix.). Tertullian's answer is a touching picture of the simple Christendom of his day. "We are a body linked together by a common religious profession, by unity of discipline, and by a common hope. We meet as a congregation and pray to God in united supplication. Haec vis Deo grata est. We pray for the emperors, their ministers, and those in authority, for the welfare of the world, for peaceful times, and for the delaying of the end (see c. xxxii.). We come together to listen to our Holy Scriptures (cf. Just. Mart. Apol. ii.); and by holy words we nourish faith, raise hope, stablish confidence, and strengthen discipline. Our presidents are elders of approved character, who have obtained this honour not by purchase but by desert. On the monthly day appointed each gives to the chest what he likes; the money is disbursed not in feasting and drinking, but in supporting and burying the poor, in providing for destitute orphan boys and girls, in supporting the aged, the infirm, and the shipwrecked, and in succouring those sent to the mines or incarcerated in prisons ex causa Dei sectae."
(6) Chaps. xlvi.–l.—Accusations had been met and the case of the Christian stated. What remained? One last perversion on the part of unbelief: "Christianity was no divine institution, but simply a kind of philosophy." The refutation of this closes the Apology. Tertullian, if frequently satirical, is at first grave and dignified, sober and patient, more than is his wont; but the smouldering fire bursts out at last; his last chapter is a climax of withering scorn and impassioned appeal.
Ad Nationes (i. ii.) is practically a short form of the Apology. It covers the same ground, uses the same arguments and largely the same language. But the Apology was addressed to the rulers and magistrates of Carthage, this to the people. Its whole cast is consequently more popular, its arguments less prolonged, its illustrations less reserved (cf. I. cc. iv. viii. xvi.; II. c. xi.).
De Testimonio Animae was written very soon after the Apology, to which it refers (c. v.). Some have thought it the most original and acute of his works (see Neander, Antignosticus, p. 259). Many of his predecessors, says Tertullian (c. i.), had ransacked heathen literature to discover in it support of the Christian efforts to expel error and admit equity. The attempt was, in his opinion, a mistake and a failure. He would not repeat it. Neither would he adduce Christian writings when dealing with heathen, for nobody consulted them unless already a Christian. Therefore he turns to another and a new testimony, that of the soul. Apostrophizing it, he cries, "Thou art not, so far as I know, Christian. The soul is not born Christian [cf. Apol. xviii.], but becomes Christian. Yet Christians beg now for a testimony from thee, as from one outside
