CHAPTER VI.

AND I saw when [214]the Lamb opened one of the seals; and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see.

1. _And I saw._ Or, I looked. He fixed his eye attentively on what was passing, as promising important disclosures. No one had been found in the universe who could open the seals but the Lamb of God (ch. v. 2‒4); and it was natural for John, therefore, to look upon the transaction with profound interest. ¶ _When the Lamb opened one of the seals._ See Notes on ch. v. 1, 5. This was the first or outermost of the seals, and its being broken would permit a certain portion of the volume to be unrolled and read. See Notes on ch. v. 1. The representation in this place is, therefore, that of a volume with a small portion unrolled, and written on both sides of the parchment. ¶ _And I heard, as it were the noise of thunder._ One of the four living creatures speaking as with a voice of thunder, or with a loud voice. ¶ _One of the four beasts._ Notes on ch. iv. 6, 7. {137} The particular one is not mentioned, though what is said in the subsequent verses leaves no doubt that it was the first in order as seen by John――the one like a lion, ch. iv. 7. In the opening of the three following seals, it is expressly said that it was the second, the third, and the fourth of the living creatures that drew near, and hence the conclusion is certain that the one here referred to was the first. If the four living creatures be understood to be emblematic of the divine providential administration, then there was a propriety that they should be represented as summoning John to witness what was to be disclosed. These events pertained to the developments of the divine purposes, and these emblematic beings would therefore be interested in what was occurring. ¶ _Come and see._ Addressed evidently to John. He was requested to approach and _see_ with his own eyes what was disclosed in the portion of the volume now unrolled. He had wept much (ch. v. 4) that no one was found who was worthy to open that book, but he was now called on to approach and see for himself. Some have supposed (Lord, _in loco_) that the address here was not to John, but to the horse and his rider, and that the command to them was not to “come and see,” but to _come forth_, and appear on the stage, and that the act of the Redeemer in breaking the seal, and unrolling the scroll, was nothing more than an emblem signifying that it was by his act that the divine purposes were to be unfolded. But, in order to this interpretation, it would be necessary to omit from the received text the words καὶ βλέπε――“_and see_.” This is done, indeed, by Hahn and Tittmann, and this reading is followed by Professor Stuart, though he says that the received text has “probability” in its favour, and is followed by some of the critical editions. The most natural interpretation, however, is that the words were addressed to John. John saw the Lamb open the seal; he heard the loud voice; he looked and beheld a white horse――that is, evidently, he looked on the unfolding volume, and saw the representation of a horse and his rider. That the voice was addressed to John is the common interpretation, is the most natural, and is liable to no real objection.

2 And I saw, and behold [215]a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth [216]conquering, and to conquer.

2. _And I saw, and behold._ A question has arisen as to the mode of representation here: whether what John saw in these visions was a series of _pictures_, drawn on successive portions of the volume as one seal was broken after another; or whether the description of the horses and of the events was _written_ on the volume, so that John read it himself, or heard it read by another; or whether the opening of the seal was merely the _occasion_ of a scenic representation, in which a succession of horses was introduced, with a written statement of the events which are referred to. Nothing is indeed said by which this can be determined with certainty; but the most probable supposition would seem to be that there was some pictorial representation in form and appearance, such as he describes in the opening of the six seals. In favour of this it may be observed, (1) that, according to the interpretation of ver. 1, it was something _in_ or _on_ the volume――since he was invited to draw nearer, in order that he might contemplate it. (2) Each one of the things under the first five seals, where John uses the word “saw,” is capable of being represented by a picture or painting. (3) The language used is not such as would have been employed if he had merely _read_ the description, or had _heard_ it read. (4) The supposition that the pictorial representation was not _in_ the volume, but that the opening of the seal was the occasion merely of causing a scenic representation to pass before his mind, is unnatural and forced. What would be the use of a sealed _volume_ in that case? What the use of the _writing_ within and without? On this supposition the representation would be that, as the successive seals were broken, nothing was disclosed in the volume but a succession of blank portions, and that the mystery or the difficulty was not in anything in the volume, but in the want of ability to summon forth these successive scenic representations. The most obvious interpretation is, undoubtedly, that what John proceeds to describe was in some way represented in the volume; and {138} the idea of a succession of pictures or drawings better accords with the whole representation, than the idea that it was a mere written description. In fact, these successive scenes could be well represented now in a pictorial form on a scroll. ¶ _And behold a white horse._ In order to any definite understanding of what was denoted by these symbols, it is proper to form in our minds, in the first place, a clear conception of what the symbol properly represents, or an idea of what it would naturally convey. It may be assumed that the symbol was significant, and that there was some reason why that was used rather than another; why, for instance, a _horse_ was employed rather than an eagle or a lion; why a _white_ horse was employed in one case, and a red one, a black one, a pale one in the others; why in this case a bow was in the hand of the rider, and a crown was placed on his head. Each one of these particulars enters into the constitution of the symbol; and we must find something in the event which _fairly_ corresponds with each――for the symbol is made up of all these things grouped together. It may be farther observed, that where the general symbol is the same――as in the opening of the first four seals――it may be assumed that the same object or class of objects is referred to; and the _particular_ things denoted, or the diversity in the general application, is to be found in the _variety_ in the representation――the colour, &c., of the horse, and the arms, apparel, &c., of the rider. The specifications under the first seal are four: (1) the general symbol of the horse――common to the first four seals; (2) the colour of the horse; (3) the fact that he that sat on him had a bow; and (4) that a crown was given him by some one, as indicative of victory. The question now is, what these symbols would naturally denote.

(1) The horse. The meaning of this symbol must be drawn from the natural use to which the symbol is applied, or the characteristics which it is known to have; and it may be added, that there might have been something for which that was best known in the time of the writer who uses it, which would not be so prominent at another period of the world, or in another country, and that it is necessary to have that before the mind in order to obtain a correct understanding of the symbol. The use of the horse, for instance, may have varied at different times to some degree; at one time the prevailing use of the horse may have been for battle; at another for rapid marches――as of cavalry; at another for draught; at another for races; at another for conveying messages by the establishment of posts or the appointment of couriers. To an ancient Roman the horse might suggest prominently one idea; to a modern Arab another; to a teamster in Holland another. The things which would be most naturally suggested by the horse as a symbol, as distinguished, for instance, from an eagle, a lion, a serpent, &c., would be the following: (a) War, as this was probably one of the first uses to which the horse was applied. So, in the magnificent description of the horse in Job xxxix. 19‒25, no notice is taken of any of his qualities but those which pertain to war. See, for a full illustration of this passage, and of the frequent reference in the classic writers to the horse as connected with war, Bochart, _Hieroz._ lib. ii. c. viii., particularly p. 149. Comp. Virg. _Geor._ iii. 83, 84:

“Si qua sonum procul arma dedêre, Stare loco nescit, micat auribus, et tremit artus.”

Ovid, _Metam._ iii.:

“Ut fremit acer equus, cam bellicus, aere canoro Signa dedit tubicen, pugnæque assumit amorem.”

_Silius_, lib. xiii.:

“Is trepido alituum tinnitu, et stare neganti, Imperitans violenter equo.”

So Solomon says (Pr. xxi. 31), “The horse is prepared against the day of battle.” So in Zec. x. 3, the prophet says, God had made the house of Judah “as his goodly horse in the battle;” that is, he had made them like the victorious war-horse. (b) As a consequence of this, and of the conquests achieved by the horse in war, he became the symbol of conquest――of a people that could not be overcome. Comp. the above reference in Zec. Thus in Carthage the horse was an image of victorious war, in contradistinction to the _ox_, which was an emblem of the arts of peaceful agriculture. This was based on a tradition respecting the foundation of the city, referred to by Virgil, _Æn._ i. 442‒445:

“Quo primum jactati undis et turbine Poeni Effodêre loco signum, quod regia Juno Monstrârat, _caput acris equi_: sic nam fore bello Egregiam, et facilem victu per Secula gentem.”

{139} In reference to this circumstance Justin (lib. xviii. 5) remarks, that “in laying the foundations of the city the head of an ox was found, which was regarded as an emblem of a fruitful land, but of the necessity of labour and of dependence; on which account the city was transferred to another place. Then the head of a horse was found, and this was regarded as a happy omen that the city would be warlike and prosperous.” Comp. Creuzer, _Symbolik_, vol. ii. p. 456. (c) The horse was an emblem of _fleetness_, and, consequently, of the rapidity of conquest. Comp. Joel ii. 4: “The appearance of them is as the appearance of horses; and as horsemen, so shall they run.” Je. iv. 13: “Behold, he shall come up as clouds, and his chariots shall be as the whirlwind; his horses are swifter than eagles.” Compare Job xxxix. 18. (d) The horse is an emblem of strength, and consequently of safety. Ps. cxlvii. 10: “He delighteth not in the strength of the horse.” In general, then, the horse would properly symbolize war, conquest, or the rapidity with which a message is conveyed. The particular character or complexion of the event――as peaceful or warlike, prosperous or adverse――is denoted by the colour of the horse, and by the character of the rider.

(2) The colour of the horse: _a white horse_. It is evident that this is designed to be significant, because it is distinguished from the red, the black, and the pale horse, referred to in the following verses. In general, it may be observed that _white_ is the emblem of innocence, purity, prosperity――as the opposite is of sickness, sin, calamity. If the significance of the emblem turned alone on the _colour_, we should look to something cheerful, prosperous, happy as the thing that was symbolized. But the significance in the case is to be found not only in the colour――_white_――but in the horse that was white; and the inquiry is, what would _a horse of that colour_ properly denote; that is, on what occasions, and with reference to what ends, was such a horse used? Now, the general notion attached to the mention of a white horse, according to ancient usage, would be that of state and triumph, derived from the fact that white horses were rode by conquerors on the days of their triumph; that they were used in the marriage cavalcade; that they were employed on coronation occasions, &c. In the triumphs granted by the Romans to their victorious generals, after a procession composed of musicians, captured princes, spoils of battle, &c., came the conqueror himself, seated on a high chariot drawn by four white horses, robed in purple, and wearing a wreath of laurel (Eschenburg, _Man. of Class. Literature_, p. 283. Comp. Ovid _de Arte Amandi_, lib. v. 214). The name of λεύκιππος――_leucippos_――was given to Proserpine, because she was borne from Hades to Olympus in a chariot drawn by white horses (_Scol. Pind. Ol._ vi. 161. See Creuzer’s _Symbol._ iv. 253). White horses are supposed, also, to excel others in fleetness. So Horace, _Sat._ lib. i. vii. 8:

“Sisennas, Barrosque ut equis præcurreret albis.”

So Plaut. _Asin._ ii. 2, 12. So Homer, _Il._ K. 437:

Λευκότεροι χιόνος, θείειν δʹ ἀνέμοισιν ὁμοῖοι.

――“Whiter than the snow, and swifter than the winds.” And in the _Æneid_, where Turnus was about to contend with Æneas, he demanded horses:

“Qui candore nives anteirent cursibus auras.”

――“Which would surpass the snow in whiteness, and the wind in fleetness” (_Æn._ xii. 84). So the poets everywhere describe the chariot of the sun as drawn by white horses (Bochart, _ut supra_). So conquerors and princes are everywhere represented as borne on white horses. Thus Propertius, lib. iv. eleg. i.:

“Quatuor huic albos Romulus egit equos.”

So Claudian, lib. ii., _de Laudibus Stilichonis_:

“Deposito mitis clypeo, candentibus urbem Ingreditur trabeatus equis.”

And thus Ovid (lib. i. _de Arte_) addresses Augustus, auguring that he would return a victor:

“Ergo erit illa dies, quâ tu, Pulcherrime rerum, Quatuor in niveis aureus ibis equis.”

The preference of _white_ to denote triumph or victory was early referred to among the Hebrews. Thus, Ju. v. 10, in the Song of Deborah:

“Speak, ye that ride on white asses, Ye that sit in judgment, And walk by the way.”

The expression, then, in the passage before us, would properly refer to some kind of _triumph_; to some joyous occasion; {140} to something where there was success or victory; and, so far as _this_ expression is concerned, would refer to _any kind_ of triumph, whether of the gospel or of victory in war.

(3) The bow: and _he that sat on him had a bow_. The bow would be a natural emblem of war――as it was used in war; or of hunting――as it was used for that purpose. It was a common instrument of attack or defence, and seems to have been early invented, for it is found in all rude nations. Comp. Ge. xxvii. 3; xlviii. 22; xlix. 24; Jos. xxiv. 12; 1 Sa. xviii. 4; Ps. xxxvii. 15; Is. vii. 24. The bow would be naturally emblematic of the following things: (a) _War._ See the passages above. (b) _Hunting._ Thus it was one of the emblems of Apollo as the god of hunting. (c) _The effect of truth_――as that which secured conquest, or overcame opposition in the heart. So far as _this_ emblem is concerned, it might denote a warrior, a hunter, a preacher, a ruler――anyone who exerted power over others, or who achieved any kind of conquest over them.

(4) The crown: _and a crown was given unto him_. The word here used――στέφανος――means a circlet, chaplet, or crown――usually such as was given to a victor, 1 Co. ix. 25. It would properly be emblematic of victory or conquest――as it was given to victors in war, or to the victors at the Grecian games, and as it is given to the saints in heaven regarded as victors, Re. iv. 4, 10; 2 Ti. iv. 8. The crown or chaplet here was “given” to the rider as significant that he _would be_ victorious, not that he _had been_; and the proper reference of the emblem was to some conquest yet to be made, not to any which had been made. It is not said _by whom_ this was given to the rider; the material fact being only that such a diadem _was_ conferred on him.

(5) The going forth to conquest: _and he went forth, conquering and to conquer_. He went forth _as a conqueror, and that he might conquer_. That is, he went forth with the spirit, life, energy, determined purpose of one who was confident that he would conquer, and who had the port and bearing of a conqueror. John saw in him two things: one, that he had the aspect or port of a conqueror――that is, of one who had been accustomed to conquest, and who was confident that he could conquer; the other was, that this was clearly the design for which he went forth, and this would be the result of his going forth.

Having thus inquired into the natural meaning of the emblems used, perhaps the proper work of an expositor is done, and the subject might be left here. But the mind naturally asks what was this designed to signify, and to what events are these things to be applied? On this point it is scarcely necessary to say, that the opinions of expositors have been almost as numerous as the expositors themselves, and that it would be a hopeless task, and as useless as hopeless, to attempt to enumerate all the opinions entertained. They who are desirous of examining those opinions must be referred to the various books on the Apocalypse where they may be found. Perhaps all the opinions entertained, though presented by their authors under a great variety of forms, might be referred to three: (1) That the whole passage in ch. vi.‒xi. refers to the destruction of Jerusalem and the wasting of Judæa, principally by the Romans――and particularly the humiliation and prostration of the Jewish persecuting enemies of the church: on the supposition that the book was written before the destruction of Jerusalem. This is the opinion of Professor Stuart, and of those generally who hold that the book was written at that time. (2) The opinion of those who suppose that the book was written in the time of Domitian, about A.D. 95 or 96, and that the symbols refer to the Roman affairs subsequent to that time. This is the opinion of Mede, Elliott, and others. (3) The opinions of those who suppose that the different horses and horsemen refer to the Saviour, to ministers of the gospel, and to the various results of the ministry. This is the opinion of Mr. David C. Lord and others. My purpose does not require me to examine these opinions in detail. Justice could not be done to them in the limited compass which I have; and it is better to institute a direct inquiry whether any events are known which can be regarded as corresponding with the symbols here employed. In regard to this, then, the following things may be referred to:――

(a) It will be assumed here, as elsewhere in these Notes, that the Apocalypse was written in the time of Domitian, about A.D. 95 or 96. For the reasons for this opinion, see Intro. § 2. Comp. an article by Dr. Geo. Duffield in the _Biblical Repository_, July, 1847, pp. 385‒411. It will also be assumed that the book is inspired, and {141} that it is not to be regarded and treated as a work of mere human origin. These suppositions will preclude the necessity of any reference in the opening of the seals to the time of Nero, or to the events pertaining to the destruction of Jerusalem and the overthrow of the Jewish persecuting enemies of the church――for the opinion that those events are referred to can be held only on one of two suppositions: either that the work was written in the time of Nero, and before the Jewish wars, as held by Professor Stuart and others; or that it was penned _after_ the events referred to had occurred, and is such a description of the past as could have been made by one who was uninspired.

(b) It is to be presumed that the events referred to, in the opening of the first seal, would occur _soon_ after the time when the vision appeared to John in Patmos. This is clear, not only because that would be the most natural supposition, but because it is fairly implied in ch. i. 1: “The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him to show unto his servants things which must _shortly_ come to pass.” See Notes on that verse. Whatever may be said of _some_ of those events――those lying most remotely in the series――it would not accord with the fair interpretation of the language to suppose that the _beginning_ of the series would be far distant, and we therefore naturally look for that beginning in the age succeeding the time of the apostle, or the reign of Domitian.

(c) The inquiry then occurs whether there _were_ any such events in that age as would properly be symbolized by the circumstances before us――the horse; the colour of the horse; the bow in the hand of the rider; the crown given him; the state and bearing of the conqueror.

(d) Before proceeding to notice what seems to me to be the interpretation which best accords with all the circumstances of the symbol, it may be proper to refer to the only other one which has any plausibility, and which is adopted by Grotius, by the author of _Hyponoia_, by Dr. Keith (_Signs of the Times_, i. 181, seq.), by Mr. Lord, and others, that this refers to Christ and his church――to Christ and his ministers in spreading the gospel. The objections to this class of interpretations seem to me to be insuperable: (1) The whole description, so far as it is a representation of triumph, is a representation of the triumph of war, not of the gospel of peace. All the symbols in the opening of the first four seals are warlike; all the consequences in the opening of each of the seals where the horseman appears, are such as are usually connected with war. It is the march of empire, the movement of military power. (2) A horseman thus armed is not the usual representation of Christ, much less of his ministers or of his church. Once indeed (ch. xix. 14‒16) Christ himself is thus represented; but the ordinary representation of the Saviour in this book is either that of a man――majestic and glorious, holding the stars in his right hand――or of a lamb. Besides, if it _were_ the design of the emblem to refer to Christ, it must be a representation of him _personally_ and _literally_ going forth in this manner; for it would be incongruous to suppose that this relates to him, and then to give it a metaphorical application, referring it not to himself, but to his truth, his gospel, his ministers. (3) If there is little probability that this refers to Christ, there is still less that it refers to ministers of the gospel――as held by Lord and others――for such a symbol is employed nowhere else to represent an order of ministers, nor do the circumstances find a fulfilment in them. The minister of the gospel is a herald of peace, and is employed in the service of the Prince of Peace. He cannot well be represented by a warrior, nor is he in the Scriptures. In itself considered, there is nothing more unlike or incongruous than a warrior going forth to conquest with hostile arms, and a minister of Christ. (4) Besides, this representation of a horse and his rider, when applied in the following verses, on this principle becomes most forced and unnatural. If the warrior on the white horse denotes the ministry, then the warrior on the red horse, the black horse, the pale horse, must denote the ministry also, and nothing is more fanciful and arbitrary than to attempt to apply these to teachers of various kinds of error――error denoted by the red, black, and pale colour――as must be done on that supposition. It seems plain, therefore, to me, that the representation was not designed to symbolize the ministry, or the state of the church considered with reference to its extension, or the various forms of belief which prevailed. But if so, it only remains to inquire whether a state of things existed in the Roman world of which these would be appropriate {142} symbols. We have, then, the following facts, which are of such a nature as would properly be symbolized by the horse of the first seal; that is, they are such facts that if one were to undertake to devise an appropriate symbol of them _since_ they occurred, they would be well represented by the image here employed.

(1) It was in general a period of prosperity, of triumph, of conquest――well represented by the horseman on the white horse going forth to conquest. I refer now to the period immediately succeeding the time of John’s banishment, embracing some ninety years, and extending through the successive reigns of Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, and the two Antonines, from the death of Domitian, A.D. 96, to the accession of Commodus, and the peace made by him with the Germans, A.D. 180. As an _illustration_ of this period, and of the pertinency of the symbol, I will first copy from an historical chart drawn up with no reference to the symbol here, and in the mind of whose author the application to this symbol never occurred. The chart, distinguished for accuracy, is that of A. S. Lyman, published A.D. 1845. The following is the account of this period, beginning at the death of Domitian:――“Domitian, a cruel tyrant, the last of the twelve Cæsars.” (His death, therefore, was an important epoch.) “A.D. 96: Nerva, noted for his virtues, but enfeebled by age.” “A.D. 98: Trajan, _a great general, and popular emperor; under him the empire attains its greatest extent_.” “A.D. 117: Adrian, an able sovereign; spends thirteen years travelling through the empire, reforming abuses and rebuilding cities.” “A.D. 138: Antoninus Pius, celebrated for his wisdom, virtue, and humanity.” “A.D. 161: Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, the Stoic Philosopher, noted for his virtues.” Then begins a new era――a series of wicked princes and of great calamities. The _next_ entry in the series is, “A.D. 180: Commodus, profligate and cruel.” Then follows a succession of princes of the same general description. Their character will be appropriately considered under the succeeding seals. But in regard to the period now supposed to be represented by the opening of the first seal, and the general applicability of the description here to that period, we have the fullest testimony in Mr. Gibbon, in his _Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_; a writer who, sceptic as he was, seems to have been raised up by Divine Providence to search deeply into historic records, and to furnish an inexhaustible supply of materials in confirmation of the fulfilment of the prophecies, and of the truth of revelation. For (1) he was eminently endowed by talent, and learning, and patience, and general candour, and accuracy, to prepare a history of that period of the world, and to place his name in the very first rank of historians. (2) His history commences at about the period supposed in this interpretation to be referred to by these symbols, and extends over a very considerable portion of the time embraced in the book of Revelation. (3) It cannot be alleged that he was biassed in his statements of facts by a desire to favour revelation; nor can it be charged on him that he perverted _facts_ with a view to overthrow the authority of the volume of inspired truth. He was, indeed, thoroughly sceptical as to the truth of Christianity, and he lost no opportunity to express his feelings towards it by a sneer――for it seems to have been an unfortunate characteristic of his mind to sneer at everything――but there is no evidence that he ever designedly perverted a _fact_ in history to press it into the service of infidelity, or that he designedly falsified a statement for the purpose of making it bear against Christianity. It cannot be suspected that he had any _design_, by the statements which he makes, to confirm the truth of Scripture prophecies. Infidels, at least, are bound to admit his testimony as impartial. (4) Not a few of the most clear and decisive proofs of the fulfilment of prophecies are to be found in his history. They are frequently such statements as would be expected to occur in the writings of a partial friend of Christianity who was endeavouring to make the records of history speak out in favour of his religion; and if they had been found in such a writer, they would be suspected of having been shaped with a view to the confirmation of the prophecies, and it may be added also with an intention to defend some favourite interpretation of the Apocalypse. In regard to the passage before us――the opening of the first seal and the general explanation of the meaning of that seal, above given, there is a striking resemblance between that representation and the state of the Roman empire as given by Mr. Gibbon at the period {143} under consideration――from the end of the reign of Domitian to the accession of Commodus. By a singular coincidence Mr. Gibbon _begins_ his history at about the period supposed to be referred to by the opening of the seal――the period following the death of Domitian, A.D. 96. Thus in the opening sentences of his work he says: “In the second century of the Christian era the empire of Rome comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most civilized portion of mankind. During a happy period of more than fourscore years the public administration was conducted by the virtue and abilities of Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, and the two Antonines. It is the design of this and the two succeeding chapters to describe the prosperous condition of their empire; and afterwards, from the death of Marcus Antoninus, to deduce the most important circumstances of its decline and fall; a revolution which will ever be remembered, and is still felt by the nations of the earth,” vol. i. 1. Before Mr. Gibbon proceeds to give the history of the fall of the empire, he pauses to describe the happy condition of the Roman world during the period now referred to――for this is substantially his object in the first three chapters of his history. The _titles_ of these chapters will show their object. They are respectively the following:――Ch. i., “The Extent and Military Force of the Empire, _in the Age of the Antonines_;” ch. ii., “Of the Union and Internal Prosperity of the Roman Empire, _in the Age of the Antonines_;” ch. iii., “Of the Constitution of the Roman Empire, _in the Age of the Antonines_.” In the language of another, this is “the bright ground of his historic picture, from which afterwards more effectively to throw out in deep colouring the successive traits of the empire’s corruption and decline” (Elliott). The introductory remarks of Mr. Gibbon, indeed, professedly refer to “the age of the Antonines” (A.D. 138‒180); but that he designed to describe, under this general title, the actual condition of the Roman world during the period which I suppose to be embraced under the first seal, as a time of prosperity, triumph, and happiness――from Domitian to Commodus――is apparent (a) from a remarkable statement which there will be occasion again to quote, in which he expressly designates this period in these words: “If a man were called to fix the period in the history of the world during which the condition of the human race was most happy and prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that which elapsed _from the death of Domitian to the accession of Commodus_,” i. 47. The same thing is apparent also from a remark of Mr. Gibbon in the general summary which he makes of the Roman affairs, showing that this period constituted, in his view, properly an _era_ in the condition of the world. Thus he says (i. 4): “Such was the state of the Roman frontiers, and such the maxims of imperial policy, from the death of Augustus _to the accession of Trajan_.” This was A.D. 98. The question now is, whether, during this period, the events in the Roman empire were such as accord with the representation in the first seal. There was nothing in the first century that could accord with this; and if John wrote the Apocalypse at the time supposed (A.D. 95 or 96), of course it does not refer to that. Respecting that century Mr. Gibbon remarks: “The only accession which the Roman empire received, during the first century of the Christian era, was the province of Britain. In this single instance the successors of Cæsar and Augustus were persuaded to follow the example of the former rather than the precept of the latter. After a war of about forty years, undertaken by the most stupid, maintained by the most dissolute, and terminated by the most timid of all the emperors, the far greater part of the island submitted to the Roman yoke,” i. 2, 3. Of course the representation in the first seal _could not_ be applied to such a period as this. In the second century, however, and especially in the early part of it――the beginning of the period supposed to be embraced in the opening of the first seal――a different policy began to prevail, and though the main characteristic of the period, as a whole, was comparatively peaceful, yet it began with a career of conquests, and its general state might be characterized as triumph and prosperity. Thus Mr. Gibbon speaks of Trajan on his accession after the death of Nerva: “That virtuous and active prince had received the education of a soldier, and possessed the talents of a general. The peaceful system of his predecessors _was interrupted by scenes of war and conquest_; and the legions, after a long interval, beheld a military emperor at their head. The first exploits of Trajan were against the {144} Dacians, the most warlike of men, who dwelt beyond the Danube, and who, during the reign of Domitian, had insulted the majesty of Rome. This memorable war, with a very short suspension of hostilities, lasted live years; and as the emperor could exert, without control, the whole force of the state, it was terminated by an absolute submission of the barbarians. The new province of Dacia, which formed a second exception to the precept of Augustus, was about thirteen hundred miles in circumference,” i. 4. Speaking of Trajan (p. 4), he says farther: “The praises of Alexander, transmitted by a succession of poets and historians, had kindled a dangerous emulation in the mind of Trajan. Like him, the Roman emperor undertook an expedition against the nations of the East; but he lamented with a sigh that his advanced age scarcely left him any hopes of equalling the renown of the son of Philip. Yet the success of Trajan, however transient, was rapid and specious. The degenerate Parthians, broken by intestine discord, fled before his arms. He descended the river Tigris, _in triumph_, from the mountains of Armenia to the Persian Gulf. He enjoyed the honour of being the first, as he was the last, of the Roman generals who ever navigated that remote sea. His fleets ravaged the coasts of Arabia; and Trajan vainly flattered himself that he was approaching towards the confines of India. Every day the astonished senate received the intelligence _of new names and new nations_ that acknowledged his sway. They were informed that the kings of Bosphorus, Colchis, Iberia, Albania, Osrhoene, and even the Parthian monarch himself, had accepted their diadems from the hand of the emperor; that the independent tribes of the Median and Carduchian hills had implored his protection; and that the rich countries of Armenia, Mesopotamia, and Assyria were reduced into the state of provinces.” Of such a reign what more appropriate symbol could there be than the horse and the rider of the first seal? If Mr. Gibbon had been writing a designed commentary on this, what more appropriate language could he have used in illustration of it? The reign of Hadrian, the successor of Trajan (A.D. 117‒138), was comparatively a reign of peace――though one of his first acts was to lead an expedition into Britain: but though comparatively a time of peace, it was a reign of prosperity and triumph. Mr. Gibbon, in the following language, gives a general characteristic of that reign:――“The life of [Hadrian] was almost a perpetual journey; and as he possessed the various talents of the soldier, the statesman, and the scholar, he gratified his curiosity in the discharge of his duty. Careless of the difference of seasons and of climates, he marched on foot, and bareheaded, over the snows of Caledonia and the sultry plains of Upper Egypt; nor was there a province of the empire which, in the course of his reign, was not honoured with the presence of the monarch,” p. 5. On p. 6 Mr. Gibbon remarks of this period: “The Roman name was revered amongst the remote nations of the earth. The fiercest barbarians frequently submitted their differences to the arbitration of the emperor; and we are informed by a contemporary historian that he had seen ambassadors who were refused the honour which they came to solicit, of being admitted into the rank of subjects.” And again, speaking of the reign of Hadrian, Mr. Gibbon remarks (i. 45): “Under his reign, as has been already mentioned, the empire flourished in peace and prosperity. He encouraged the arts, reformed the laws, asserted military discipline, and visited all the provinces in person.” Hadrian was succeeded by the Antonines, Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius (the former from A.D. 138 to 161; the latter from A.D. 161 to the accession of Commodus, A.D. 180). The general character of their reigns is well known. It is thus stated by Mr. Gibbon: “The two Antonines governed the world forty-two years with the same invariable spirit of wisdom and virtue. Their united reigns are possibly the only period of history in which the happiness of a great people was the sole object of government,” i. 46. And after describing the state of the empire in respect to its military and naval character, its roads, and architecture, and constitution, and laws, Mr. Gibbon sums up the whole description of this period in the following remarkable words (vol. i. p. 47):――“_If a man were called to fix the period in the history of the world during which the condition of the human race was most happy and prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that which elapsed from the death of Domitian to the accession of Commodus. The vast extent of the Roman empire was governed by absolute {145} power, under the guidance of virtue and wisdom. The armies were restrained by the firm but gentle hands of four successive emperors, whose characters and authority commanded involuntary respect. The forms of the civil administration were carefully preserved by Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the Antonines, who delighted in the image of liberty, and were pleased with considering themselves as the accountable ministers of the laws. Such princes deserved the honour of restoring the republic, had the Romans of their days been capable of enjoying a rational freedom._” If it be supposed now that John _designed_ to represent this period of the world, could he have chosen a more expressive and significant emblem of it than occurs in the horseman of the first seal? If Mr. Gibbon had intended to prepare a commentary on it, could he have shaped the facts of history so as better to furnish an illustration?

(2) The particular things represented in the symbol. (a) The bow――a symbol of war. Mr. Elliott has endeavoured to show that the _bow_ at that period was _peculiarly_ the badge of the Cretians, and that Nerva, who succeeded Domitian, was a Cretian by birth. The argument is too long to be abridged here, but, if well founded, the fulfilment is remarkable; for although the sword or the javelin was usually the badge of the Roman emperor, if this were so there would be a peculiar propriety in making the _bow_ the badge during this period. See Elliott, vol. i. pp. 133‒140. But whatever may be said of this, the _bow_ was so generally the badge of a warrior, that there would be no impropriety in using it as a symbol of Roman victory. (b) The crown――στέφανος――was, up to the time of Aurelian, A.D. 270 (see Spanheim, p. 60), the distinguishing badge of the Roman emperor; after that, the _diadem_, set with pearls and other jewels, was adopted and worn. The crown, composed usually of laurel, was properly the badge of the emperor considered as a military leader or commander. See Elliott, i. 130. At the period now under consideration the proper badge of the Roman emperor would be the _crown_; after the time of Aurelian, it would have been the _diadem_. In illustration of this, two engravings have been introduced, the first representing the emperor Nerva with the _crown_, or στέφανος, the second the emperor Valentinian, with the _diadem_.

Illustration: Medal of the Emperor Nerva wearing Crown.

Illustration: Medal of the Emperor Valentinian wearing Diadem.

(c) The fact that the crown was _given_ to the rider. It was common among the Romans to represent an emperor in this manner; either on medals, bas-reliefs, or triumphal arches. The emperor appears going forth on horseback, and with Victory represented as either crowning him, or as preceding him with a crown in her hand to present to him. The engraving on p. 146, copied from one of the bas-reliefs on a triumphal arch erected to Claudius Drusus on occasion of his victories over the Germans, will furnish a good illustration of this, and, indeed, is so similar to the symbol described by John, that the one seems almost a copy of the other.

Illustration: Symbolic Bas-reliefs from a Roman Triumphal Arch.

Except that the bow is wanting, nothing could have a closer resemblance; and the fact that such symbols were employed, and were well understood by the Romans, may be admitted to be a confirmation of the view above taken of the meaning of the first seal. Indeed, so many things combine to confirm this, that it seems impossible {146} to be mistaken in regard to it: for if it should be supposed that John lived _after_ this time, and that he _meant_ to furnish a striking emblem of this period of Roman history, he could not have employed a more significant and appropriate symbol than he has done.

3 And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

3. _And when he had opened the second seal._ So as to disclose another portion of the volume. Notes, ch. v. 1. ¶ _I heard the second beast say._ The second beast was like a calf or an ox. Notes, ch. iv. 7. It cannot be supposed that there is any special significancy in the fact that the _second_ beast addressed the seer on the opening of the _second_ seal, or that, so far as the symbol was concerned, there was any reason why this living creature should approach on the opening of this seal rather than on either of the others. All that seems to be designed is, that as the living creatures are intended to be emblems of the providential government of God, it was proper to represent that government as concerned in the opening of each of these four seals, indicating important events among the nations. ¶ _Come and see._ See Notes on ver. 1.

4 And there went out another horse _that was_ red: and _power_ was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

4. _And there went out another horse._ In this symbol there were, as in the others, several particulars which it is proper to explain in order that we may be able to understand its application. The particular things in the symbol are the following: (a) The horse. See this explained in the Notes on ver. 2. (b) The colour of the horse: _another horse |that was| red_. This symbol cannot be mistaken. As the white horse denoted prosperity, triumph, and happiness, so this would denote carnage, discord, bloodshed. This is clear, not only from the nature of the emblem, but from the explanation immediately added: “And power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another.” On the _colour_, compare Bochart, _Hieroz._ P. i. lib. ii. c. vii. p. 104. See also Zec. i. 8. There is no possibility of mistaking this, that a time of _slaughter_ is denoted by this emblem. (c) The power given to him that sat on the horse: _and |power| was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another_. This would seem to indicate that the condition immediately preceding this was a condition of tranquillity, and that this was now disturbed by some cause producing discord and bloodshed. This idea is confirmed by the original words――τὴν εἰρήνην――“_the_ peace;” that is, the previously existing peace. When peace in general is referred to, the word is used without the article: Mat. x. 34, “Think not that I am come to send peace――βαλεῖν εἰρήνην――upon the earth.” Comp. Lu. i. 79; ii. 14; xix. 38; Mar. v. 34; Jn. xiv. 27; xvi. 33; Ac. vii. 26; ix. 31, _et al._ in the Greek. In these cases the word peace is without the article. The characteristics of the period referred to by this are: (a) that peace and tranquillity existed before; (b) that such peace and tranquillity were now taken away, and were succeeded by confusion and bloodshed; and (c) that the particular form of that confusion was civil discord, producing mutual slaughter: “that they should kill one another.” (d) The presentation of a sword: _and there was given unto him a great sword_. As an emblem of what he was to do, or of the period that was referred to by the opening of the {147} seal. The sword is an emblem of war, of slaughter, of authority (Ro. xiii. 4), and is here used as signifying that that period would be characterized by carnage. Comp. Is. xxxiv. 5; Re. xix. 17, 18; Le. xxvi. 25; Ge. xxvii. 40; Mat. x. 34; xxvi. 52. It is not said _by whom_ the sword was presented, but _the fact_ is merely referred to, that the rider _was_ presented with a sword as a symbol of what would occur.

In inquiring now into the period referred to by this symbol, we naturally look to that which immediately succeeded the one which was represented by the opening of the first seal; that is, the period which followed the accession of Commodus, A.D. 180. We shall find, in the events which succeeded his accession to the empire, a state of things which remarkably accords with the account given by John in this emblem――so much so, that if it were supposed that the book was written _after_ these events had occurred, and that John had _designed_ to represent them by this symbol, he could not have selected a more appropriate emblem. The only authority which it is necessary to refer to here is Mr. Gibbon; who, as before remarked, seems to have been raised up by a special Providence to make a record of those events which were referred to by some of the most remarkable prophecies in the Bible. As he had the highest qualifications for an historian, his statements may be relied on as accurate; and as he had no belief in the inspiration of the prophetic records, his testimony will not be charged with partiality in their favour. The following particulars, therefore, will furnish a full illustration of the opening of the second seal: (a) The previous state of peace. This is implied in the expression, “and power was given to him to _take peace_ from the earth.” Of this we have had a full confirmation in the peaceful reign of Hadrian and the Antonines. See the Notes on the exposition of the first seal. Mr. Gibbon, speaking of the accession of Commodus to the imperial throne, says that he “had nothing to wish, and everything to enjoy. The beloved son of Marcus [Commodus] succeeded his father amidst the acclamations of the senate and armies; and when he ascended the throne, the happy youth saw around him neither competitor to remove, nor enemies to punish. In this calm elevated station, it was surely natural that he should prefer the love of mankind to their detestation; the mild glories of his five predecessors to the ignominious fate of Nero and Domitian,” i. 51. So again, on the same page, he says of Commodus, “His graceful person, popular address, and imagined virtues attracted the public favour; the honourable peace which he had recently granted to the barbarians diffused an universal joy.” No one can doubt that the accession of Commodus was preceded by a remarkable prevalence of peace and prosperity. (b) Civil war and bloodshed: _to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another_. Of the applicability of this to the time supposed to be represented by this seal, we have the fullest confirmation in the series of civil wars commencing with the assassination of the emperor Commodus, A.D. 193, and continued, with scarcely any intervals of intermission, for eighty or ninety years. So Sismondi, on the fall of the Roman empire (i. 36), says, “With Commodus’ death commenced the third and most calamitous period. It lasted ninety-two years, from 193 to 284. During that time, thirty-two emperors, and twenty-seven pretenders to the empire, alternately hurried each other from the throne, by incessant civil warfare. Ninety-two years of almost incessant civil warfare taught the world _on what a frail foundation the virtue of the Antonines had reared the felicity of the empire_.” The full history of this period may be seen in Gibbon, i. pp. 50‒197. Of course it is impossible in these Notes to present anything like a complete account of the characteristics of those times. Yet the briefest summary may well show the general condition of the Roman empire then, and the propriety of representing it by the symbol of a red horse, as a period when peace would be taken from the earth, and when men would kill one another. Commodus himself is represented by Mr. Gibbon in the following words:――“Commodus was not, as he has been represented, a tiger, born with an insatiate thirst of human blood, and capable, from his infancy, of the most inhuman actions. Nature had formed him of a weak, rather than a wicked disposition. His simplicity and timidity rendered him the slave of his attendants, who gradually corrupted his mind. His cruelty, which at first obeyed the dictates of others, degenerated into habit, and at length became the ruling passion of his soul,” i. 51. During the first {148} three years of his reign “his hands were yet unstained with blood” (_Ibid._), but he soon degenerated into a most severe and bloody tyrant, and “when Commodus had once tasted human blood, he was incapable of pity or remorse,” i. 52. “The tyrant’s rage,” says Mr. Gibbon (i. 52), “after having shed the noblest blood of the senate, at length recoiled on the principal instrument of his cruelty. While Commodus _was immersed in blood and luxury_ he devolved the detail of public business on Perennis, a servile and ambitious minister, who had obtained his post by the murder of his predecessor,” &c. “Every sentiment of virtue and humanity was extinct in the mind of Commodus,” i. 55. After detailing the history of his crimes, his follies, and his cruelties, Mr. Gibbon remarks of him: “His cruelty proved at last fatal to himself. He had shed with impunity the best blood of Rome: he perished as soon as he was dreaded by his own domestics. Marcia, his favourite concubine, Eclectus, his chamberlain, and Lætus, his pretorian prefect, alarmed by the fate of their companions and predecessors, resolved to prevent the destruction which every hour hung over their heads, either from the mad caprice of the tyrant, or the sudden indignation of the people. Marcia seized the occasion of presenting a draught of wine to her lover, after he had fatigued himself with hunting some wild beasts. Commodus retired to sleep; but while he was labouring with the effects of poison and drunkenness, a robust youth, by profession a wrestler, entered his chamber, and strangled him without resistance,” i. 57. The immediate consequence of the assassination of Commodus was the elevation of Pertinax to the throne, and his murder eighty-six days after (_Decline and Fall_, i. 60). Then followed the public setting-up of the empire to sale by the pretorian guards, and its purchase by a wealthy Roman senator, Didius Julianus, or Julian, who, “on the throne of the world, found himself without a friend and without an adherent,” i. 63. “The streets and public places in Rome resounded with clamours and imprecations.” “The public discontent was soon diffused from the centre to the frontiers of the empire,” i. 63. In the midst of this universal indignation Septimius Severus, who then commanded the army in the neighbourhood of the Danube, resolved to avenge the death of Pertinax, and to seize upon the imperial crown. He marched to Rome, overcame the feeble Julian, and placed himself on the throne. Julian, after having reigned sixty-six days, was beheaded in a private apartment of the baths of the palace, i. 67. “In less than four years Severus subdued the riches of the East, and the valour of the West. He vanquished two competitors of reputation and ability, and defeated numerous armies provided with weapons and discipline equal to his own,” i. 68. Mr. Gibbon then enters into a detail of “the two _civil wars_ against Niger and Albinus”――rival competitors for the empire (i. 68‒70), both of whom were vanquished, and both of whom were put to death “in their flight from the field of battle.” Yet he says, “Although the wounds of civil war were apparently healed, its mortal poison still lurked in the vitals of the constitution,” i. 71. After the death of Severus, then follows an account of the contentions between his sons, Geta and Caracalla, and of the death of the former by the instigation of the latter (i. 77); then of the remorse of Caracalla, in which it is said that “his disordered fancy often beheld the angry forms of his father and his brother rising into life to threaten and upbraid him” (i. 77); then of the cruelties which Caracalla inflicted on the friends of Geta, in which “it was computed that, under the vague appellation of the friends of Geta, above twenty thousand persons of both sexes suffered death” (i. 78); then of the departure of Caracalla from the capital, and his cruelties in other parts of the empire, concerning which Mr. Gibbon remarks (i. 78, 79), that “Caracalla was the common enemy of mankind. Every province was by turns the scene of his rapine and cruelty. In the midst of peace and repose, upon the slightest provocation, he issued his commands at Alexandria in Egypt for a general massacre. From a secure post in the temple of Serapis he viewed and directed the slaughter of many thousand citizens, as well as strangers, without distinguishing either the number or the crime of the sufferers,” &c. Then follows the account of the assassination of Caracalla (i. 80); then, and in consequence of that, of the civil war which crushed Macrinus, and raised Elagabalus to the throne (i. 83); then of the life and follies of that wretched voluptuary, and of his massacre by the pretorian guards {149} (i. 86); then, after an interval of thirteen years, of the murder of his successor, the second Severus, on the Rhine; then of the civil wars excited against his murderer and successor, Maximin, in which the two emperors of a day――the Gordians, father and son――perished in Africa, and Maximin himself, and his son, in the siege of Aquileia; then of the murder at Rome of the two joint emperors, Maximus and Balbinus; and quickly after that an account of the murder of their successor in the empire, the third and youngest Gordian, on the banks of the river Aboras; then of the slaughter of the next emperor Philip, together with his son and associate in the empire, in the battle near Verona:――and this state of things may be said to have continued until the accession of Diocletian to the empire, A.D. 284. See _Decline and Fall_, i. 110‒197. Does any portion of the history of the world present a similar period of connected history that would be so striking a fulfilment of the symbols used here of “peace being taken from the earth,” and “men killing one another?” In regard to this whole period it is sufficient, after reading Mr. Gibbon’s account, to ask two questions: (1) If it were supposed that John lived _after_ this period, and designed to represent this by an expressive symbol, could he have found one that would have characterized it better than this does? (2) And if it should be supposed that Mr. Gibbon _designed_ to write a commentary on this “seal,” and to show the exact fulfilment of the symbol, could he have selected a better portion of history to do it, or could he have better described facts that would be a complete fulfilment? It is only necessary to observe further, (c) that this is a _marked_ and _definite_ period. It has such a beginning, and such a continuance and ending, as to show that this symbol was applicable to this _as_ a period of the world. For it was not only preceded by a state of peace, as is supposed in the symbol, but no one can deny that the condition of things in the empire, from Commodus onward through many years, was such as to be appropriately designated by the symbol here used.

5 And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo, a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.

6 And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, [217]A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and _see_ thou [218]hurt not the oil and the wine.

5, 6. _And when he had opened the third seal._. Unfolding another portion of the volume. See Notes on ch. v. 1. ¶ _I heard the third beast say, Come and see._ See Notes on ch. iv. 7. It is not apparent why the _third_ beast is represented as taking a particular interest in the opening of _this_ seal (comp. Notes on ver. 3), nor is it necessary to show why it was so. The general design seems to have been, to represent each one of the four living creatures as interested in the opening of the seals, but the _order_ in which they did this does not seem to be a matter of importance. ¶ _And I beheld, and lo, a black horse._ The specifications of the symbol here are the following: (a) As before, the horse. See Notes on ver. 2. (b) The _colour_ of the horse: _lo, a black horse_. This would properly denote distress and calamity――for _black_ has been regarded always as such a symbol. So Virgil speaks of _fear_ as black: “atrumque timorem” (_Æn._ ix. 619). So again, _Georg._ iv. 468:

“Caligantem nigra formidine lucum.”

So, as applied to the dying Acca, _Æn._ xi. 825:

“Tenebris nigrescunt omnia circum.”

Black, in the Scriptures, is the image of fear, of famine, of death. La. v. 10: “Our skin was black like an oven, because of the terrible famine.” Je. xiv. 2: “Because of the drought Judah mourneth, and the gates thereof languish; they are in deep mourning [literally, _black_] for the land.” Joel ii. 6: “All faces shall gather blackness.” Na. ii. 10: “The knees smite together, and there is great pain in all loins, and the faces of them all gather blackness.” Comp. Re. vi. 12; Eze. xxxii. 7. See also Bochart, _Hieroz._ P. i. lib. ii. c. vii. pp. 106, 107. From the _colour_ of the horse here introduced we should naturally look for some dire calamity, though the _nature_ of the calamity would not be designated by the mere use of the word _black_. What the calamity was to be must be determined by what follows in the symbol. Famine, pestilence, oppression, heavy taxation, tyranny, invasion――any of these might be denoted by the colour of the horse. (c) The balances: _and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand_. The original word here rendered _a pair {150} of balances_, is ζυγὸν. This word properly means _a yoke_, serving to couple anything together, as a yoke for cattle. Hence it is used to denote the _beam_ of a balance, or of a pair of scales――and is evidently so used here. The idea is, that something was to be _weighed_, in order to ascertain either its _quantity_ or its _value_. Scales or balances are the emblems of justice or equity (comp. Job xxxi. 6; Ps. lxii. 9; Pr. xi. 1; xvi. 11); and when joined with symbols that denote the sale of corn and fruit by weight, become the symbol of scarcity. Thus “bread by weight” (Le. xxvi. 26) denotes scarcity. So in Eze. iv. 16, “And they shall eat bread by weight.” The use of balances here as a symbol would signify that something was to be accurately and carefully weighed out. The connection leads us to suppose that this would appertain to the necessaries of life, and that it would occur either in consequence of scarcity, or because there would be an accurate or severe exaction, as in collecting a revenue on these articles. The balance was commonly the symbol of equity and justice; but it was also, sometimes, the symbol of exaction and oppression, as in Ho. xii. 7: “The balance of deceit is in his hands; he loveth to oppress.” If the balances stood alone, and there were no proclamation as to what was to occur, we should look, under this seal, to a time of the exact administration of justice, as scales or balances are now used as emblems of the rigid application of the laws and of the principles of justice in courts, or in public affairs. If _this_ representation stood alone, or if the black horse and the scales constituted the whole of the symbol, we should look for some severe administration, or perhaps some heavy calamity under a rigorous administration of laws. The reference, however, to the “wheat and barley,” and to the price for which they were to be weighed out, serves still further to limit and define the meaning of the symbol as having reference to the necessaries of life――to the productions of the land――to the actual capital of the country. Whether this refers to scarcity, or to taxation, or both, must be determined by the other parts of the symbol. (d) The proclamation: _And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say_. That is, from the throne, ch. iv. 6. The voice was not that of one of the four beasts, but it seemed to come from among them. As the rider went forth, this was the proclamation that was made in regard to him; or this is that which is symbolized in his going forth, to wit, that there would be such a state of things that a measure of wheat would be sold for a penny, &c. The proclamation consists essentially of two things――that which refers to the price or value of wheat and barley, and that which requires that care shall be taken not to injure the oil and the wine. Each of these demands explanation. ¶ _A measure of wheat for a penny._ See the margin. The word rendered _measure_――χοῖνιξ, _chœnix_――denotes an Attic measure for grain and things dry, equal to the forty-eighth part of the Attic medimnus, or the eighth part of the Roman modius, and consequently was nearly equivalent to one quart English (Rob. _Lex._). The word rendered _penny_, δηνάριον――Lat. _denarius_――was of the same value as the Greek δραχμή, _drachmē_, and was equivalent to about fourteen cents or sevenpence. This was the usual price of a day’s labour, Mat. xx. 2, 9. The chœnix, or measure of grain here referred to, was the ordinary daily allowance for one man [_Odyss._, xix. 27, 28). See Stuart, _in loco_. The common price of the Attic medimnus of wheat was five or six denarii; but here, as that contained forty-eight chœnixes or quarts, the price would be augmented to forty-eight denarii――or it would be about eight times as dear as ordinary; that is, there would be a scarcity or famine. The price of a _bushel_ of wheat at this rate would be about four dollars and a half or 18 shillings――a price which would indicate great scarcity, and which would give rise to much distress. ¶ _And three measures of barley for a penny._ It would seem from this that barley usually bore about one-third the price of wheat. It was a less valuable grain, and perhaps was produced in greater abundance. This is not far from the proportion which the price of this grain usually {151} bears to that of wheat, and here, as in the case of the wheat, the thing which would be indicated would be scarcity. This proclamation of “a measure of wheat for a penny” was heard either as addressed _to_ the horseman, as a rule of action for him, or as addressed _by_ the horseman as he went forth. If the former is the meaning, it would be an appropriate address to one who was going forth to collect tribute――with reference to the _exact_ manner in which this tribute was to be collected, implying some sort of severity of exaction; or to one who should distribute wheat and barley out of the public granaries at an advanced price, indicating scarcity. Thus it would mean that a severe and heavy tax――represented by the scales and the scarcity――or a tax so severe as to _make_ grain dear, was referred to. If the latter is the meaning, then the idea is that there would be a scarcity, and that grain would be dealt out by the government at a high and oppressive price. The latter idea would be as consonant with the symbol of the scales and the price mentioned as the other, if it were not for the _additional_ injunction not to “hurt the oil and the wine”――which cannot be well applied to the idea of dealing out grain at a high price. It can, however, be connected, by a fair interpretation of that passage, with such a severity of taxation that there would be a propriety in such a command――for, as we shall see, under the explanation of that phrase, such a law was actually promulgated as resulting from severity of taxation. The idea, then, in the passage before us, would seem to be, (a) that there would be a rigid administration of the law in regard to the matter under consideration――that pertaining to the productions of the earth――represented by the balances; and (b) that that would be connected with general scarcity, or such an exercise of this power as to determine the price of grain, so that the price would be some three times greater than ordinary. ¶ _And see thou hurt not the oil and the wine._ There has been a great variety of interpretations proposed of this passage, and it is by no means easy to determine the true sense. The first inquiry in regard to it is, to whom is it addressed? Perhaps the most common impression on reading it would be, that it is addressed to the horseman with the balances, commanding _him_ not to injure the oliveyards and the vineyards. But this is not probably the correct view. It does not appear that the horseman goes forth to destroy anything, or that the effect of his going forth is directly to injure anything. This, therefore, should not be understood as addressed to the horseman, but should be regarded as a general command to any and all _not_ to injure the oliveyards and vineyards; that is, an order that nothing should be done essentially to injure them. If thus regarded as addressed to others, a fair and congruous meaning would be furnished by either of the following interpretations: either (a) considered as addressed to those who were disposed to be prodigal in their manner of living, or careless as to the destruction of the crop of the oil and wine, as they would now be needed; or (b) as addressed to those who raised such productions, on the supposition that they would be _taxed_ heavily, or that large quantities of these productions would be extorted for revenue, that they should not mutilate their fruit-trees in order to evade the taxes imposed by the government. In regard to the things specified here――oil and wine――it may be remarked, that they were hardly considered as articles of luxury in ancient times. They were almost as _necessary_ articles as wheat and barley. They constituted a considerable part of the food and drink of the people, as well as furnished a large portion of the revenue, and it would seem to be with reference to that fact that the command here is given that they should not be injured; that is, that nothing should be done to diminish the quantity of oil and wine, or to impair the productive power of oliveyards and vineyards. The state of things thus described by this seal, as thus interpreted, would be, (a) a rigid administration of the laws of the empire, particularly in reference to taxation, producing a scarcity among the necessary articles of living; (b) a strong tendency, _from_ the severity of the taxation, to mutilate such kinds of property, with a view either of concealing the real amount of property, or of diminishing the amount of taxes; and (c) a solemn command from some authoritative quarter _not_ to do this. A command from the ruling power _not_ to do this would meet all that would be fairly demanded in the _interpretation_ of the passage; and what is necessary in its _application_, is to find such a state of things as would {152} correspond with these predictions; that is, such as a writer _would have_ described _by_ such symbols on the supposition that they were referred to.

Now it so happens that there _were_ important events which occurred in the Roman empire, and connected with its decline and fall, of sufficient importance to be noticed in a series of calamitous events, which corresponded with the symbol here, as above explained. They were such as these: (a) The _general_ severity of taxation, or the oppressive burdens laid on the people by the emperors. In the account which Mr. Gibbon gives of the operation of the _Indictions_, and _Superindictions_, though the specific laws on this subject pertained to a subsequent period, the general nature of the taxation of the empire and its oppressive character may be seen (_Decline and Fall_, i. 357‒359). A general estimate of the amount of revenue to be exacted was made out, and the collecting of this was committed to the pretorian prefects, and to a great number of subordinate officers. “The lands were measured by surveyors who were sent into the provinces; their nature, whether arable, or pasture, or woods, was distinctly reported; and an estimate made of their common value, from the average produce of five years. The number of slaves and of cattle constituted an essential part of the report; an oath was administered to the proprietors, which bound them to disclose the true state of their affairs; and their attempts to prevaricate or elude the intention of the legislature were severely watched, and punished as a capital crime, which included the double guilt of treason and of sacrilege. According to the different nature of lands, their real produce in the various articles of _wine or oil, corn or barley_, wood or iron, was transported by the labour or at the expense of the provincials to the imperial magazines, from whence they were occasionally distributed for the use of the court or of the army, and of the two capitals, Rome and Constantinople,” i. p. 358. Comp. Lactant. _de Mort. Persecut._, c. 23. (b) The particular order, under this oppressive system of taxation, respecting the preservation of vineyards and oliveyards, may be referred to, also, as corresponding to the command sent forth under this rider, not to “hurt the oil and the wine.” That order was in the following words:――“If any one shall sacrilegiously cut a vine, or stint the fruit of prolific boughs, and craftily feign poverty in order to avoid a fair assessment, he shall, immediately on detection, suffer death, and his property be confiscated” (_Cod. Theod._ l. xiii. lib. xi. seq.; Gibbon, i. 358, note). Mr. Gibbon remarks: “Although this law is not without its studied obscurity, it is, however, clear enough to prove the minuteness of the inquisition, and the disproportion of the penalty.” (c) Under this general subject of the severity of taxation――as a fact far-spreading and oppressive, and as so important as to hasten the downfall of the empire, may be noticed a distinct edict of Caracalla as occurring more directly in the period in which the rider with the balances may be supposed to have gone forth. This is stated by Mr. Gibbon (i. 91) as one of the important causes which contributed to the downfall of the empire. “The personal characters of the emperors, their victories, laws, and fortunes,” says he, “can interest us no farther than they are connected with the general history of the decline and fall of the monarchy. Our constant attention to that object will not suffer us to overlook a most important edict of Antoninus Caracalla, which communicated to all the free inhabitants of the empire the name and privileges of Roman citizens. His unbounded liberality, however, flowed not from the sentiments of a generous mind; it was the sordid result of avarice,” &c. He then proceeds at length to state the nature and operations of that law, by which a heavy tax, under the pretence of liberality, was in fact imposed on all the citizens of the empire――a fact which, in its ultimate results, the historian of the _Decline and Fall_ regards as so closely connected with the termination of the empire. See Gibbon, i. pp. 91‒95. After noticing the laws of Augustus, Nero, and the Antonines, and the real privileges conferred by them on those who became entitled to the rank of Roman citizens――privileges which were a compensation in the honour, dignity, and offices of that rank for the measure of taxation which it involved――he proceeds to notice the fact that the _title_ of “Roman citizen” was conferred by Caracalla on all the free citizens of the empire, involving the subjection to all the heavy taxes usually imposed on those who sustained the rank expressed by the title, but with nothing of the compensation connected {153} with the title when it was confined to the inhabitants of Italy. “But the favour,” says he, “which implied a distinction, was lost in the prodigality of Caracalla, and the reluctant provincials were compelled to assume _the vain title_, and the real _obligations_, of Roman citizens. Nor was the rapacious son of Severus [Caracalla] contented with such a measure of taxation as had appeared sufficient to his moderate predecessors. Instead of a twentieth, he exacted a tenth of all legacies and inheritances; and during his reign he crushed alike every part of the empire under the weight of his iron sceptre,” i. 95. So again (_Ibid._), speaking of the taxes which had been lightened somewhat by Alexander, Mr. Gibbon remarks: “It is impossible to conjecture the motive that engaged him to spare so trifling a remnant of the evil; but the noxious weed, which had not been totally eradicated, again sprung up with the most luxuriant growth, and in the succeeding age darkened the Roman world with its deadly shade. In the course of this history we shall be too often summoned to explain the land-tax, the capitation, and the heavy contributions of _corn_, _wine_, _oil_, and meat, which were exacted from the provinces for the use of the court, the army, and the capital.” In reference to this whole matter of _taxation_ as being one of the things which contributed to the downfall of the empire, and which spread woe through the falling empire――a woe worthy to be illustrated by one of the seals――a confirmation may be derived from the reign of Galerius, who, as Cæsar, acted under the authority of Diocletian; who excited Diocletian to the work of persecution (_Decline and Fall_,