Albert Barnes Commentary Revelation 6

CHAPTER VI

ANALYSIS OF THE CHAPTER

This chapter contains an account of the opening of six of the seven seals. It hardly needs to be said to anyone familiar with the numerous—not to say countless—expositions of the Apocalypse that it is at this point interpreters begin to differ. Here begins the divergence towards those various, discordant, and many of them wild and fantastic theories, which have been proposed in the exposition of this wonderful book.

Up to this point, though there may be unimportant differences in the exposition of words and phrases, there is no material difference of opinion as to the general meaning of the writer. In the epistles to the seven churches (Revelation 1–3), and in the introductory scenes to the main visions (Revelation 4–5), there can be no doubt, in the main, as to what the writer had in view and what he meant to describe.

He addressed churches then existing and set before them their sins and their duties; and he described scenes passing before his eyes as then present, which were merely designed to impress his own mind with the importance of what was to be revealed, and to bring the great actors on the stage, and in reference to which there could be little ground for difference in the interpretation.

Here, however, the scene opens into the future, comprehending all the unknown period until there shall be a final triumph of Christianity, and all its foes shall be prostrate. The actors are the Son of God, angels, men, Satan, storms, tempests, earthquakes, pestilence, and fire; the scene is heaven, earth, hell.

There is no certain designation of places; there is no mention of names—as there is in Isaiah (Isaiah 45:1) of Cyrus, or as there is in Daniel (Daniel 8:21; Daniel 10:20; Daniel 11:2) of the king of Grecia; there is no designation of time that is necessarily unambiguous; and there are no characteristics of the symbols used that make it antecedently certain that they could be applied only to one class of events.

In the boundless future that was to follow the times of John, there would be, of necessity, many events to which these symbols might be applied. The result has shown that it has required but a moderate share of pious ingenuity to apply them, by different expositors, to events differing widely from each other in their character and in the times when they would occur.

It would be too long to glance even at the various theories which have been proposed and maintained regarding the interpretation of the later portions of the Apocalypse, and wholly impossible to attempt to examine those theories. Time, in its developments, has already exploded many of them; and time, in its future developments, will doubtless explode many more. Each one must stand or fall as, in the disclosures of the future, it shall be found to be true or false.

It would be folly to add another to those numerous theories, even if I had any such theory (as noted in the Preface), and perhaps equal folly to pronounce with certainty on any one of those which have been advanced. Yet this seems to be an appropriate place to state, in few words, what principles I intend to follow in the interpretation of the remainder of the book.

1. It may be assumed that large portions of the book relate to the future; that is, to that which was future when John wrote. In this all expositors are agreed, and this is indeed manifest on the very surface of the representation. It would be impossible to attempt an interpretation on any other supposition, and somewhere in that vast future the events are to be found to which the symbols here used had reference.

   This is assumed, indeed, on the supposition that the book is inspired: a fact which is assumed all along in this exposition, and which should be allowed to control our interpretation. But assuming that the book relates to the future, though that supposition will do something to determine the true method of interpretation, yet it leaves many questions still unsolved.

   Whether it refers to the destruction of Jerusalem (on the supposition that the work was written before that event) or to the history of the church after that; whether it is designed to describe events minutely or only in the most general manner; whether it is intended to furnish a syllabus of civil and ecclesiastical history or only a very general outline of future events; or whether the times are so designated that we can fix them with entire certainty, or it was intended to furnish any certain indication of the periods of the world when these things should occur—all these are still open questions. It hardly needs to be said that on these points, the opinions of expositors have been greatly divided.

2. It may be assumed that there is meaning in these symbols, and that they were not used without an intention to convey some important ideas to the mind of John and to the minds of his readers—to the church then, and to the church in future times. .

   The book is indeed surpassingly sublime. It abounds with the highest flights of poetic language. It is Oriental in its character and exhibits everywhere the proofs of a most glowing imagination in the writer.

   But it is also to be kept in mind that it is an inspired book, and this fact must determine the character of the exposition. If inspired, it is to be assumed that there is a meaning in these symbols—an idea in each one of them, and in all combined, of importance to the church and the world.

   Whether we can ascertain the meaning is another question; but an expositor of the Bible must never doubt that there is a meaning in the words and images employed, and that to find out that meaning is worthy of earnest study and prayer.

3. Predictions respecting the future are often necessarily obscure to man.

   Indeed, it cannot be doubted that God, who knows all that is to come as intimately as He does all the past, could have foretold future events in the clearest and most unambiguous language.

   He could have caused a record to be made, disclosing names, dates, and places, so that the most minute statements of what is to occur might have been available to humanity as clearly as the records of the past now are.

   But there were obvious reasons why this should not occur, and in the prophecies it is rare that there is any such specification. To have done this might have been to defeat the very end in view, for it would have given to man, a free agent, the power of embarrassing or frustrating the Divine plans.

   But if this course is not adopted, then prophecy must, from the nature of the case, be obscure. The knowledge of any one particular fact in the future is so connected with many other facts, and often implies so much knowledge of other things, that without that other knowledge it could not be understood.

   Suppose that it had been predicted, in the time of John, that at some future period some device would be invented by which what was happening in one part of the world could be instantaneously known in another remote part of the world, and disseminated by thousands of copies in an hour to be read by a nation.

   Suppose, for instance, that there had been some symbol or emblem representing what actually occurs now, when in a morning newspaper we read what occurred last evening at St. Louis, Dubuque, Galena, Chicago, Cincinnati, Charleston, or New Orleans. It is clear that at a time when the magnetic telegraph and the printing-press were unknown, any symbol or language describing it that could be employed must be obscure. The impression must have been that this could be accomplished only by miracle—and it would not be difficult for one who was inclined to skepticism to construct an argument to prove that this could not occur.

   It would be impossible to explain any symbol that could be employed to represent this until these wonderful descriptions became reality. In the meantime, the book in which the symbols were found might be regarded as made up of mere riddles and enigmas.

   But when these inventions were actually discovered, however much ridicule or contempt had been previously heaped on the book, it might become perfectly evident that the symbol was the most appropriate that could be used. No one could then doubt that it was a Divine communication of what was to be in the future.

   Something of the same kind may have occurred with the symbols used by the writer of the book we are considering.

4. It is not necessary to suppose that a prophecy will be understood in all its details until the prediction is accomplished. In the case just referred to, though the fact of the rapid spread of intelligence might be clear, yet nothing would convey any idea of the method or of the actual meaning of the symbols used, unless the inventions were themselves anticipated by a direct revelation.

   The trial of faith in this case would be the belief that the fact would occur, but would not concern the method by which it was to be accomplished, or the language employed to describe it. There might be great obscurity regarding the symbols and language, and yet the knowledge of the fact be perfectly plain.

   When, however, the fact should occur as predicted, all would be clear. So it is in respect to prophecy. Many recorded predictions that are now clear as noonday were once as ambiguous and uncertain in respect to their meaning as in the supposed case of the press and the telegraph.

   Time has made them clear, for the event to which they referred has so entirely corresponded with the symbol as to leave no doubt regarding the meaning.

   Thus, many of the prophecies relating to the Messiah were obscure at the time they were spoken. They were apparently so contradictory that they could not be reconciled; they were so unlike anything that then existed that their fulfillment seemed impossible; and they were so enigmatic in the symbols employed that it seemed futile to attempt to reveal their meaning.

   The advent of the long-promised Messiah, however, removed the obscurity. Now they are read with no uncertainty as to their meaning and with no doubt that those predictions, once so obscure, had a Divine origin.

   The view just suggested may lead us to some proper ideas of what is necessary to be done in attempting to explain the prophecies. Suppose then, first, that there had been, say in the Dark Ages, some predictions that claimed to be of Divine origin, of the invention of the art of printing and of the magnetic telegraph. The proper business of an interpreter, if he regarded this as a Divine communication, would have consisted in four things:

   1. To explain, as well as he could, the fair meaning of the symbols employed and the language used;

   2. To admit the fact referred to, and implied in the fair interpretation of the language employed, of the rapid spread of intelligence in that future period, though he could not explain how it was to be done;

   3. In the meantime, it would be a perfectly legitimate objective for him to inquire whether there were any events occurring in the world, or whether there had been any, to which these symbols were applicable, or which would meet all the circumstances involved in them;

   4. If there were, then his duty would be ended; if there were not, then the symbols, with such explanation as could be furnished of their meaning, should be passed on to future times to be applied when the predicted events should actually occur.

   Suppose then, secondly, the case of the predictions respecting the Messiah, scattered throughout many books, and given in various forms and by various symbols. The proper business of an interpreter would have been, as in the other case:

   1. To explain the fair meaning of the language used, and to bring together all the circumstances in one connected whole, that a distinct conception of the predicted Messiah might be formed in the mind;

   2. To admit the facts referred to, and thus predicted, however incomprehensible and apparently contradictory they might appear to be;

   3. To inquire whether anyone had appeared who combined within himself all the characteristics of the description; and

   4. If no one had thus appeared, to pass on the prophecies, with such explanations of words and symbols as could be determined to be correct, to future times, to have their full meaning developed when the object of all the predictions should be accomplished, and the Messiah should appear.

      Then the meaning of all would be clear, and then the argument from prophecy would be complete.

      This is obviously now the proper state of mind regarding the predictions in the Bible, and these are the principles that should be applied in examining the book of Revelation.

5. It may be assumed that new light will be thrown upon the prophecies by time and by the progress of events. It cannot be supposed that the investigations of the meaning of the prophetic symbols will all be in vain. Difficulties, it is reasonable to hope, may be cleared up; errors may be detected regarding the application of the prophecies to particular events; and more accurate views on the prophecies, as on all other subjects, will prevail as the world grows older.

   We become wiser by seeing the errors of those who have gone before us, and an examination of the causes which led them astray may enable us to avoid such errors in the future. Especially may it be supposed that light will be thrown on the prophecies as they shall be in part or wholly fulfilled.

   The prophecies respecting the destruction of Babylon, of Petra, of Tyre, of Jerusalem, are now fully understood; the prophecies respecting the advent of the Messiah, and His character and work, once so obscure, are now perfectly clear. So, we have reason to suppose, it will be with all prophecy in the progress of events, and sooner or later the world will settle down into some uniform belief regarding the design and meaning of these portions of the sacred writings.

   Whether the time has yet come for this, or whether numerous other failures are to be added to the melancholy catalog of past failures on this subject, is another question; but ultimately all the now unfulfilled prophecies will be as clear as to their meaning as are those which have been already fulfilled.

6. The plan, therefore, which I propose in the examination of the remaining portion of the Apocalypse is the following:

   1. To explain the meaning of the symbols; that is, to show as clearly as possible what those symbols properly express, independently of any attempt to apply them.

      This, of itself, opens an interesting field of investigation, and one where essential service may be done, even if nothing further is intended.

      Without any reference to the application of those symbols, this is an important work of criticism, and, if successfully done, would render a valuable service to the readers of the sacred volume.

   2. To state, as briefly as possible, what others who have written on this book, and who have brought eminent learning and talent to bear on its interpretation, have supposed to be the true interpretation of the symbols John employed, and the times in which the events referred to would occur.

      It is only in this way that we can become acquainted with the real progress made in interpreting this book. It will be useful at least to know how the subject has struck other minds, and how and why they may have failed to perceive the truth.

      I propose therefore to state, as I proceed, some of the theories that have been held regarding the meaning of the Apocalypse and the events to which others have supposed it refers.

      My limits require, however, that this should be done briefly and forbid me from attempting to examine those opinions at length.

   3. To state, in as brief and clear a manner as possible, the view which I have been led to hold as to the proper application of the symbols employed in the book, with such historical references as seem to me to confirm the interpretation proposed.

   4. Where I cannot form an opinion as to the meaning, to confess my ignorance. He does no service in a professed interpretation of the Bible who passes over a difficulty without attempting to remove it, or who, to save his own reputation, conceals the fact that there is a real difficulty; and he does as little service who is unwilling to confess his ignorance on many points, or who attempts an explanation where he has no clear and settled views.

      As his opinion can be of no value to anyone else unless it is based on reasons in his own mind that will withstand examination, so it can usually be of little value unless those reasons are stated. It is as important for his readers to have those reasons before their own minds as it is for him; and unless he has it in his power to state reasons for what he advances, his opinions can be worth nothing to the world.

      He who establishes this rule of interpretation may expect to have ample opportunity in interpreting such a book as the Apocalypse to confess his ignorance; but he who interprets a book which he believes to be inspired may console himself with the thought that what is now obscure will be clear hereafter, and that he performs the best service which he can if he endeavors to explain the book up to the time in which he lives.

      There will be developments hereafter which will make that clear which is now obscure; developments which will make this book, in all past ages apparently so enigmatic, as clear as any other portion of the inspired volume—as it is now, even with the imperfect view which we may have of its meaning, beyond all question one of the most sublime books that has ever been written.

This chapter describes the opening of the first six seals.

1. The first discloses a white horse with a rider armed with a bow. A crown is given to him, symbolic of triumph and prosperity, and he goes forth to conquer (Revelation 6:1–2).

2. The second discloses a red-colored horse with a rider. The emblem is that of blood—of sanguinary war. Power is given him to take peace from the earth, and a sword is given him—emblem of war, but not of certain victory. Triumph and prosperity are denoted by the former symbol; war, discord, bloodshed by this (Revelation 6:3–4).

3. The third discloses a black horse with a rider. He has a pair of balances in his hand, as if there were scarcity in the earth, and he announces the price of grain in the times of this calamity, and a command is given not to hurt the oil and the wine (Revelation 6:5–6). The emblem is that of scarcity—as if there were oppression, or as a consequence of war or discord, while at the same time care is taken to preserve certain portions of the produce of the earth from injury.

4. The fourth discloses a pale horse with a rider. The name of this rider is Death, and Hell, or Hades, follows him—as if the hosts of the dead came again on the earth. Power is given to the rider over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, with hunger, with death, and with wild beasts. This emblem would seem to denote war, wide-wasting pestilence, famine, and desolation—as if wild beasts were allowed to roam over lands that had been inhabited: something of which paleness would be an emblem. Here ends the array of horses; and it is evidently intended by these four symbols to refer to a series of events that have a general resemblance—something that could be made to stand by themselves, and that could be grouped together.

5. The fifth seal opens a new scene. The horse and the rider no longer appear. It is not a scene of war, and of the consequences of war, but a scene of persecution. The souls of those who were slain for the word of God and for the testimony which they held are seen under the altar, praying to God that He would avenge their blood. White robes are given them—tokens of the Divine favor, and emblems of their ultimate triumph; and they are commanded to rest for a little season, till their fellow-servants and their brethren that should be killed as they were should be fulfilled: that is, that they should be patient until the number of the martyrs was filled up. In other words, there was:

   1. The assurance of the Divine favor towards them;

   2. Vengeance, or the punishment of those who had persecuted them, would not be immediate; but

   3. There was the implied assurance that just punishment would be inflicted on their persecutors, and that the cause for which they had suffered would ultimately triumph (Revelation 6:9–11).

6. The opening of the sixth seal (Revelation 6:12–17). There was an earthquake, and the sun became dark, and the moon was turned to blood, and the stars fell, and all kings and people were filled with consternation. This symbol properly denotes a time of public commotion, of revolution, of calamity; and it was evidently to be fulfilled by some great changes on the earth, or by the overturning of the seats of power, and by such sudden revolutions as would fill the nations with alarm.

And I saw. Or, I looked. He fixed his eye attentively on what was passing, as promising important revelations. No one had been found in the universe who could open the seals but the Lamb of God (Revelation 5:2–4), and it was natural for John, therefore, to look upon the transaction with profound interest.

When the Lamb opened one of the seals. (See Revelation 5:1 and following). 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. .

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. (See notes on Revelation 4:6 and Revelation 4:7).

The particular one is not mentioned, though what is said in the later verses leaves no doubt that it was the first in order as seen by John—the one like a lion (Revelation 4:7). 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 approached, and therefore the conclusion is certain that the one here referred to was the first.

If the four living creatures are understood to be emblematic of the Divine providential administration, then there was an appropriateness that they should be represented as summoning John to witness what was to be revealed. These events related 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 revealed in the portion of the volume now unrolled. He had wept much (Revelation 5:4) 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 loc.) 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 revealed.

But, in order to this interpretation, it would be necessary to omit from the received text the words kai blepe—and see. This is done indeed by Hahn and Tittman, and this reading is followed by Professor Stuart, though he says that the received text has "probability" in its favor, 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.

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 Revelation 6:1, 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 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 further 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. The particular things denoted, or the diversity in the general application, is to be found in the variety in the representation—the colour, etc., of the horse, and the arms, apparel, etc., 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 who sat on him had a bow; and
4. That a crown was given him by someone as indicative of victory.

The question now is, what these symbols would naturally denote.

And when he had opened the second seal. So as to disclose another portion of the volume.

I heard the second beast say. The second beast was like a calf or an ox.

It cannot be supposed that there is any special significance in the fact that the second beast addressed the seer on the opening of the second seal, or that, as 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 any of the others. All that seems to be intended 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.

And there went out another horse. In this symbol there were, as in the others, several details which it is proper to explain so that we can understand its application. The particular things in the symbol are the following:

1. The horse. (See Barnes on Revelation 6:2).

2. The color 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, and 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 on it to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another. On the color, compare Bochart, Hieroz. Part 1, Book 2, Chapter 7, page 104. See also Zechariah 1:8. There is no possibility of mistaking this: that a time of slaughter is denoted by this emblem.

3. The power given to him that sat on the horse: and power was given to him that sat on it 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 tranquility, and that this was now disturbed by some cause producing discord and bloodshed. This idea is confirmed by the original words—thn eirhnhn—"the peace;" that is, the previously existing peace. When peace in general is referred to, the word is used without the article: Matthew 10:34, Think not that I came to send peace—balein eirhnhn—on the earth. Compare Luke 1:79; 2:14; 19:38; Mark 5:34; John 14:27; 16:33; Acts 7:26; 9:31, 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:

   1. That peace and tranquility existed before;

   2. That such peace and tranquility were now taken away, and were succeeded by confusion and bloodshed; and

   3. That the particular form of that confusion was civil discord, producing mutual slaughter: that they should kill one another.

4. The presentation of a sword: and there was given to 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 seal. The sword is an emblem of war, of slaughter, of authority (Romans 13:4), and is here used as signifying that that period would be characterized by carnage. Compare Isaiah 34:5; Revelation 19:17–18; Leviticus 26:25; Genesis 27:40; Matthew 10:34; 26:52.

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 into the period referred to by this symbol, we naturally look to that which immediately succeeded the one represented by the opening of the first seal—that is, the period following the accession of Commodus in A.D. 180.

We shall find, in the events that succeeded his accession to the empire, a state of things that remarkably accords with the account given by John in this emblem. Indeed, it is 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 remarked before, seems to have been raised up by a special Providence to make a record of those events referred to by some of the most remarkable prophecies in the Bible. Since he had the highest qualifications for an historian, his statements may be relied on as accurate; and since he had no belief in the inspiration of the prophetic records, his testimony will not be charged with partiality in their favor. The following details, therefore, will furnish a full illustration of the opening of the second seal:

1. 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.

   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" (Volume 1, page 51).

   So again, on the same page, he says of Commodus, "His graceful person, popular address, and undisputed virtues, attracted the public favor; the honorable peace which he had recently granted to the barbarians diffused a universal joy." No one can doubt that the accession of Commodus was preceded by a remarkable prevalence of peace and prosperity.

2. 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 in 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 (Volume 1, page 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, Volume 1, pages 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 for 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" (Volume 1, page 51).

   During the first 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" (Volume 1, page 52).

   "The tyrant's rage," says Mr. Gibbon (Volume 1, page 62), "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 predecessors," etc. "Every sentiment of virtue and humanity was extinct in the mind of Commodus" (Volume 1, page 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 favorite concubine, Eclectus, his chamberlain, and Laetus, his praetorian 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 draft of wine to her lover, after he had fatigued himself hunting wild beasts. Commodus retired to sleep; but while he was laboring with the effects of poison and drunkenness, a robust youth, by profession a wrestler, entered his chamber, and strangled him without resistance" (Volume 1, page 57).

   The immediate consequence of the assassination of Commodus was the elevation of Pertinax to the throne, and his murder eighty-six days later (Decline and Fall, Volume 1, page 60). Then followed the public setting-up of the empire for sale by the praetorian 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" (Volume 1, page 63). "The streets and public places in Rome resounded with clamors and imprecations." "The public discontent was soon diffused from the center to the frontiers of the empire" (Volume 1, page 63). In the midst of this universal indignation, Septimius Severus, who then commanded the army in the neighborhood 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 (Volume 1, page 67). "In less than four years, Severus subdued the riches of the East, and the valor of the West. He vanquished two competitors of reputation and ability, and defeated numerous armies provided with weapons and discipline equal to his own" (Volume 1, page 68).

   Mr. Gibbon then enters into a detail of "the two civil wars against Niger and Albinus"—rival competitors for the empire (Volume 1, pages 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" (Volume 1, page 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 (Volume 1, page 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" (Volume 1, page 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" (Volume 1, page 78).

   Then follows his departure from the capital, and his cruelties in other parts of the empire, concerning which Mr. Gibbon remarks (Volume 1, pages 78–79) that "Caracalla was the common enemy of mankind. Every province was in turn 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," etc.

   Then follows the account of the assassination of Caracalla (Volume 1, page 80); then, and in consequence of that, of the civil war which crushed Macrinus and raised Elagabalus to the throne (Volume 1, page 83); then of the life and follies of that wretched voluptuary, and of his massacre by the praetorian guards (Volume 1, page 86). After an interval of thirteen years, came the murder of his successor, the second Severus, on the Rhine; then 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 followed 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 the slaughter of the next emperor Philip, together with his son and associate in the empire, in the battle near Verona.

   This state of things may be said to have continued until the accession of Diocletian to the empire in A.D. 284 (see Decline and Fall, Volume 1, pages 110–197). Does any portion of the history of the world present a similar period of connected history that would be so striking a fulfillment 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 fulfillment 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 fulfillment?

3. It is only necessary to observe further, 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.

And when he had opened the third seal. This involved unfolding another portion of the volume (see Barnes on Revelation 5:1).

I heard the third beast say, Come and see. (See Barnes on Revelation 4:7).

It is not apparent why the third beast is represented as taking a particular interest in the opening of this seal (see Barnes on Revelation 6:3), 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:

1. As before, the horse.

2. The color of the horse: lo, a black horse. This would properly denote distress and calamity—for black has always been regarded as such a symbol. So Virgil speaks of fear as black: "atrumque timorem" (Aeneid ix. 619). So again, Georgics iv. 468:

   "Caligantem nigra formidine lucum."

   So, as applied to the dying Acca, Aeneid xii. 823:

   "Tenebris nigrescunt omnia circum."

   Black, in the Scriptures, is the image of fear, of famine, of death. Lamentations 5:10: Our skin was black like an oven, because of the terrible famine.Jeremiah 14:2: Because of the drought Judah mourneth, and the gates thereof languish; they are in deep mourning [literally, black] for the land.Joel 2:6: All faces shall gather blackness.Nahum 2:10: The knees smite together, and there is great pain in all loins, and the faces of them all gather blackness. (Ezekiel 32:7). See also Bochart, Hieroz. P. i. lib. ii. c. vii. pp. 106, 107.

   From the color 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 color of the horse.

3. The balances: and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand. The original word, here rendered a pair of balances, is zugon. 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 (Psalms 62:9; Proverbs 11:1; Proverbs 16:11), and when joined with symbols that denote the sale of corn and fruit by weight, become the symbol of scarcity.

   Thus bread by weight (Leviticus 26:26) denotes scarcity. So in Ezekiel 4:16, 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 Hosea 12:7: 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.

4. The proclamation: And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say. That is, from the throne (Revelation 4:6). 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 what is symbolized in his going forth, namely, that there would be such a state of things that a measure of wheat would be sold for a penny, etc. 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. . The word rendered measure—coinix, choenix—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 English quart (Rob. Lex).

   The word rendered penny, dhnarion (Latin: denarius), was of the same value as the Greek dracmh, drachme, and was equivalent to about fourteen cents of our money. This was the usual price of a day's labor (Matthew 20:2, 9). The choenix, or measure of grain here referred to, was the ordinary daily allowance for one man (Odyssey xix. 27-28). See Stuart, in loc. The common price of the Attic medimnus of wheat was five or six denarii; but here, as that contained forty-eight choenixes, 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 of our money—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 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:

   • 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
   • 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 that you hurt not the oil and the wine. There has been a great variety of interpretations proposed for 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:

   • 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

   • 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 rigid administration of the laws of the empire, particularly in reference to taxation, producing a scarcity among the necessary articles of living;
     • 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
     • 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 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:

   • 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, pp. 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 Praetorian 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 where 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). (Compare Lactantius, De Mortibus Persecutorum, c. 23).

   • The particular order, under this oppressive system of taxation, respecting the preservation of vineyards and oliveyards, may also be referred to 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, and following; Gibbon, i, p. 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."

   • 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—a distinct edict of Caracalla may be noticed 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, p. 91) as one of the important causes that contributed to the downfall of the empire. "The personal characters of the emperors, their victories, laws, and fortunes," he says, "can interest us no further 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 flowed not, however, from the sentiments of a generous mind: it was the sordid result of avarice," etc.

     He then proceeds, at length, to state the nature and operations of that law, by which a heavy tax, under the pretense 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 honor, 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 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 with the title when it was confined to the inhabitants of Italy.

     "But the favour," he says, "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, p. 95).

     So again (ibid.), speaking of the taxes that 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 soil; 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 province 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 that 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 Caesar, acted under the authority of Diocletian; who excited Diocletian to the work of persecution (Decline and Fall, i, pp. 317-318); and who, on the abdication of Diocletian, assumed the title of Augustus (Decline and Fall, i, p. 222).

     Of his administration in general, Mr. Gibbon (i, p. 226) remarks: "About that time, the avarice of Galerius, or perhaps the exigencies of the state, had induced him to make a very strict and rigorous inquisition into the property of his subjects for the purpose of a general taxation, both on their lands and on their persons. A very minute survey appears to have been taken of their real estates; and wherever there was the slightest concealment, torture was very freely employed to obtain a sincere declaration of their real wealth."

     Of the nature of this exaction under Galerius; of the cruelty with which the measure was prosecuted—particularly in its bearing on Christians, towards whom Galerius cherished a mortal enmity (Decline and Fall, i, p. 317); and of the extent and severity of the suffering among Christians and others caused by it, the following account of Lactantius (De Mortibus Persecutorum, c. 23) will furnish a painful but most appropriate illustration: "Swarms of exactors sent into the provinces and cities filled them with agitation and terror, as though a conquering enemy were leading them into captivity. The fields were separately measured, the trees and vines, the flocks and herds numbered, and an examination made of the men. In the cities, the cultivated and rude were united as of the same rank. The streets were crowded with groups of families, and every one required to appear with his children and slaves. Tortures and lashes resounded on every side. Sons were gibbeted in the presence of their parents, and the most confidential servants harassed that they might make disclosures against their masters, and wives that they might testify unfavourably of their husbands. If there were a total destitution of property, they were still tortured to make acknowledgments against themselves, and, when overcome by pain, inscribed for what they did not possess. Neither age nor ill-health was admitted as an excuse for not appearing. The sick and weak were borne to the place of inscription, a reckoning made of the age of each, and years added to the young and deducted from the old, in order to subject them to a higher taxation than the law imposed. The whole scene was filled with wailing and sadness. In the meantime individuals died, and the herds and the flocks diminished, yet tribute was nonetheless required to be paid for the dead, so that it was no longer allowed either to live or die without a tax. Mendicants alone escaped, where nothing could be wrenched, and whom misfortune and misery had made incapable of further oppression. These the impious wretch affecting to pity, that they might not suffer want, ordered to be assembled, borne off in vessels, and plunged into the sea." (See Lord on the Apocalypse, pp. 128-129).

     These facts in regard to the severity of taxation, and the rigid nature of the law enforcing it; to the sources of the revenue exacted in the provinces, and to the care that none of those sources should be diminished; and to the actual and undoubted bearing of all this on the decline and fall of the empire, are so strikingly applicable to the symbol here employed, that if it is supposed that it was intended to refer to them, no more natural or expressive symbol could have been used. If it were supposed that the historian meant to make a record of the fulfillment, he could not well have made a search that would more strikingly accord with the symbol.

Were we now to represent these things by a symbol, we could scarcely find one that would be more expressive than that of a rider on a black horse with a pair of scales, sent forth under a proclamation that indicated that there would be a most rigid and exact administration of severe and oppressive laws, and with a special command, addressed to the people, not for the purposes of concealment, or from opposition to the government, to injure the sources of revenue.