whom nothing would be more hateful than a Roman army, conceived himself to be possessed by a whole "legion," two thousand "unclean swine." Identifying himself—as was the habit of those who were "possessed"—with the demons whom he supposed to have possession of him, the insane man declared that his name was "Legion, for we are many;" and they (or he) besought Jesus that He would not drive them into the "deep," i.e. into the "abyss" above-mentioned. But by the voice of Jesus the man is instantaneously healed: he sees the legion of demons that had possessed him rushing forth in the shapes of two thousand swine and hurrying down into "the deep;" and what he sees, he loudly proclaims to the bystanders. It is easy to perceive how on some such a basis of fact there might be built the tradition that Jesus healed a demoniac whose name was Legion, and sent two thousand swine into the deep sea; and from thence by easy stages the tradition might arrive at its present shape.
So far, I think, you do not find it very difficult to separate the miraculous from the historical in the life of Christ, nor feel yourself forced to sacrifice any of the "most characteristic sayings of Jesus." Let us now come to a miracle of greater difficulty, the blasting of the barren fig-tree.
Even of those commentators who accept the miracle of the fig-tree as historical, most, I believe, see in it a kind of parable. The barren fig-tree, they say, which made a great show of leaves but bore no fruit, obviously represents, in the first place, the Pharisees, and in the second place, the nation, which, as a whole, identified itself with the Pharisees. Both the Prophets and the Psalms delight in similar metaphors. Israel is the vine; Jehovah, in Isaiah, is the Lord of the vine, who demands good fruit and finds it not, and consequently resolves to
