READING HALLTHE DOORS OF WISDOM |
HISTORY OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH FROM THE APOSTOLIC AGE TO THE REFORMATION A.D. 64-1517 |
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BOOK II.
FROM CONSTANTINE TO THE DEATH OF THE EMPEROR THEODOSIUS I , A.D. 313-395.
CHAPTER I.
CONSTANTINE - DONATISM-ARIANISM
A.D. 313-337.
The idea that the
emperors of Rome might be Christians had been regarded by Tertullian as one
which involved in consistency and impossibility; but it was now to be realized.
Constantine had probably been trained in the religion of his father, which
appears to have been an eclectic system, founded on the belief in one supreme God.
Some years of his youth were spent at the court of Diocletian and Galerius in
the character of a hostage, and while thus detained he had opportunities of
observing the deceits by which the pagan priesthood endeavoured to influence
the emperor’s mind; he witnessed the publication of the persecuting edict at
Nicomedia and the horrors which followed. When hailed by the legions (A.D. 306)
in Britain as his father's successor, he continued and extended the toleration
which Constantius had bestowed on the Christians: but it would seem that in
this he was rather influenced by indifference and by political considerations
than by any inclination to embrace their religion. Whatever his secret belief
may have been, he continued to share in all the public rites of paganism, and
professed to regard Apollo as his especial patron.
The
most critical event in Constantine’s religious history took place in the year
312, as he was on his march against Maxentius. Eusebius tells us that, as the
tyrant was known to be preparing for the struggle by magical and superstitious
rites, Constantine felt the need of supernatural aid in order to cope with him,
and therefore considered to what god he should betake himself; that,
remembering how his father had always been blessed with prosperity, whereas the
persecutors of Christianity had come to miserable ends, he resolved to forsake
the service of idols, and prayed to the god of Constantius—the one supreme
Being; and that, as he was engaged in such thoughts, he saw in the sky, soon after
midday, a luminous cross, with the words “By this conquer”. While perplexed by
the vision the emperor fell asleep; when the Saviour appeared to him, bearing
in his hand the same symbol which had been displayed in the heavens, commanding
him to use it as his standard in war, and giving him the assurance of victory.
On awaking, Constantine described the ensign which had been shown to him in his
dream, and from that time his troops marched under the protection of the LABARUM—a
banner on which the cross was combined with the first letters of the Redeemer's
name. The emperor then sought and received from the Christian clergy
instruction as to the meaning of the vision which had been vouchsafed to him;
and after his victory at the Milvian Bridge he erected at Rome a statue of
himself, holding in his right hand a cross, while the inscription attributed
his victory to the power of that “saving sign”.
The story of a
vision or dream in which the cross was displayed to Constantine, with a charge
that he should use it as a device, and with a promise of victory, is also
related by other ecclesiastical writers. But it is told with variations which,
while they add to the presumption that it had some foundation in truth,
increase the difficulties of the account which Eusebius professed to have
received, under the sanction of an oath, from the emperor shortly before his
death. The literal accuracy of these narratives will now find few defenders.
Educated as Constantine had been, and after the experience through which he had
passed, it is extremely improbable that he could have been so utterly
unacquainted with everything relating to Christianity as the historians here
represent him. Perhaps we may fairly suppose that he had been accustomed to
regard the Christian God as one of many—as standing on a level with the host of
pagan deities; that the circumstances of his opposition to Maxentius may have
turned his thoughts towards this God, and that he may have been on the outlook
for some omen of the future; that he may have seen a remarkable appearance in
the air, which to his excited imagination bore the form of the Christian
symbol, while, although his soldiers witnessed the same sight, it had not for
them the shape or the meaning with which the emperor's fancy invested it; that
the motto (if not to be explained in the same manner as the cross itself) may
possibly have been nothing more than the inference drawn from the phenomenon;
that the dream was a continuation of the thoughts in which the mind had before
been engaged. And, if it be assumed that Eusebius reported his hero’s relation
with perfect accuracy, it is surely not unwarrantable to suppose that the other
circumstances may have grown up within the emperor’s mind in the course of
years, as his adhesion to the Christian faith became more entire, and as his
continued prosperity confirmed him in the belief that he was an especial
favourite of Heaven—a belief which is strongly marked throughout his career.
The benefit
conferred on the Christians by the edicts of 312 and 313 was toleration, not
ascendency over other religions; and if we attempt to discover the progress of
Constantine’s own opinions by his acts and legislation, we find that much
is doubtful and perplexing in the history of his next years. He spoke of the Divinity
in vague and ambiguous terms. He omitted the secular games, which in the
ordinary course would have been celebrated in 314, to the great indignation of
the Romans, he refused to take part in the rites of Jupiter Capitolinus.
He favoured the Christians in many ways; he bestowed munificent gifts on the
community, and built churches; he committed the education of his son Crispus to
the celebrated Christian rhetorician Lactantius; he
associated much with bishops, frequently making them the companions of his table
and of his journeys; he interfered in the settlement of religious disputes. In
313 he exempted the catholic clergy from the decurionate —an office which, from having once been an object of ambition, had come to be
generally regarded as an oppressive burden, on account of the expense, the
labour, and the unpopular functions connected with it. As it was found that, in
consequence of this law, many persons, whose property rendered them eligible as
decurions, pressed into the minor orders of the church for the purpose of
obtaining an exemption, Constantine afterwards ordered that no person qualified
for the decurionate should be admitted to ordination;
that the clergy should be chosen from the poorer members of the church: and
that only so many should be ordained as were necessary to fill up vacant
places. But when some cities attempted to reclaim those who had become clerks
with the object of evading civil office, the emperor ordered that such persons
as were already ordained should not be molested.
It would appear
that in 315 Constantine exempted the lands of ecclesiastics from the ordinary
taxes—an exemption which was afterwards withdrawn. In the same year he
abolished crucifixion as a punishment, and decreed that any Jews who should
attempt to raise a tumult against Christians should be burnt. In 316 he allowed
that the emancipation of slaves, which had until then been performed before a
magistrate, might also take place in churches; and, in order to give popularity
to the new method, it was divested of many troublesome formalities with which
the act of emancipation had formerly been encumbered. By two laws of the year
319 he forbade private sacrifices and divination, and ordered that priests or
diviners should not enter dwelling-houses for the exercise of their art, under
the penalty of being burnt. But by the same laws the public exercise of such
rites was still permitted; and two years later, while the practice of magic
with any hurtful object was severely denounced, the emperor sanctioned the use
of magical means for bodily cures, or for the prevention of storms. In 321 an
edict was issued for the general observance of Sunday. Agricultural labours
were to be carried on, but in the towns there was to be a cessation from
traffic and from judicial business; and even the heathen soldiers were obliged
to repeat on that day a prayer to the supreme Deity. In the same year, as a
concession to the zeal of the Christians for celibacy, the old laws against
unmarried and childless persons were abolished; and by another edict the church
was allowed to receive legacies—a privilege which, in the event, had an
important effect on its temporal condition.
But as to all
these enactments and proceedings it is questionable in how far they may be
regarded as evidence of the emperor’s personal disposition towards
Christianity. The omission of the secular games, and the slight offered to the
Capitoline Jupiter, need not have meant anything beyond a contempt for the
popular religion. The laws which conferred privileges and removed disabilities
did no more than put the Christian community on a level with the heathens, or
even with the Jews. The private divinations condemned by Constantine were not
properly a part of the old religion, but rather were a corruption which a
reformer in the interest of that religion would have wished to abolish; they
were, moreover, objectionable on political grounds, and had therefore been
censured by Diocletian, by Tiberius, and even by so ancient an authority as the
laws of the twelve tables. Nay, even the law for the observance of Sunday—the
festival of the sun, or Apollo, called by its heathen name—while it had its
special and sacred meaning for Christians, might have been regarded by the rest
of Constantine’s subjects as merely adding to the number of holidays by an
exercise of the pontifical authority which belonged to him as emperor.
In seeking to
understand Constantine's policy as to religion, we must distinguish between the
sovereign and the man. As emperor he desired that his subjects should live in
peace and order, and that the framework of the constitution should be
preserved; in this capacity, therefore, it was his interest to avoid offending
the prejudices of his people, to extend to all an equal protection, to allow in
religion a freedom of thought limited only by the necessities of civil
government. In his private opinions, which were probably at first vaguely
monotheistic, he received a determination in favour of Christianity about the
time of his march against Maxentius, and thenceforth advanced by degrees until
at length he openly avowed the faith of the gospel. By thus considering
separately his official and his personal character, we may perhaps best
understand much that at first sight appears inconsistent; how he retained
throughout his life the office of Pontifex Maximus, the highest in the pagan
hierarchy; how he took part in heathen ceremonies, regarding them as attached
to his imperial function; how, in two edicts of the same year, he enjoined the
solemn observance of Sunday, and directed the regular consultation of the
aruspices.
The joint triumph
of Constantine and Licinius over Maxentius and
Maximin (314) was soon followed by differences which were decided by the defeat
of Licinius in the battles of Cibalis and Mardia. By a new partition of the empire all
Europe, except Thrace, was assigned to Constantine; but a revival of jealousies
produced another war, which ended in the ruin of Licinius.
This prince, whom some writers have very improbably supposed to have been once
a catechumen, oppressed his Christian subjects, perhaps regarding their
religion as a token of inclination to his rival's interest. He demolished
churches, put some bishops to death, and it is said that he was on the point of
giving orders for a general persecution when he was diverted by the progress of
Constantine. The emperors mustered their hosts under the standards of
Christ and of heathenism respectively; each party relied on presages and
visions which were supposed to come from heaven; and the triumph of Constantine
was especially ascribed to the God of Christians. From that time pagan emblems
disappear from his coins, and he declares himself in his edicts to be an
instrument of God for spreading the true faith.
Constantine now
recalled all Christians who were in exile or in the mines; he ordered that
those who had been deprived of public employments on account of their religion
should be reinstated, that the property of martyrs should be restored to their
heirs, and that, if no heirs could be discovered, it should be given to the
church (A.D. 324). In an edict addressed to all his subjects, he advised them
to embrace the gospel; but at the same time he professed to wish that it should
be advanced by means of persuasion only. He endeavoured, however, to render it
attractive by bestowing employments and honours on proselytes of the higher
classes, and by donations to the poor—a course which, as Eusebius himself
acknowledges, produced a great amount of hypocrisy and pretended conversion. He
ordered that churches should be everywhere built, of a size sufficient to
accommodate the whole population. He forbade the erection of images of the
gods, and would not allow his own statue to be set up in temples. All state
sacrifices were prohibited, and such of the provincial governors and officials
as adhered to the old religion were ordered to abstain from rites of this kind;
yet other public sacrifices—those which were undertaken by the priests, as
distinguished from ceremonies performed in the name of the state—were allowed
to continue. There is reason to suppose that in the end of his reign
Constantine issued an edict against them; but if so, it was little enforced.
While the emperor exerted himself for the elevation of the Christian community,
he refrained from any such attacks on the religion of the majority as would
have been likely to excite opposition. His measures were intended to appear as
a reform of abuses which had crept into the pagan system—not as directed
against that system itself. Commissioners were sent throughout the empire, with
instructions to visit the temples and to inquire into the worship which was
performed in them; and these commissioners, although unarmed, and unprotected
by any military guard, were allowed to do their work without hindrance—a
circumstance which shows how little hold the heathen religion retained on the
general mind. In consequence of this visitation, many statues were stripped of
their precious ornaments, destroyed, or carried away, and many impostures of
the priests were exposed. Constantine respected the temples in general, but he
shut up and unroofed some which were almost deserted, turned others into
churches, and destroyed those which had been the scenes of immoral rites or of
pretended miracles.
The change in the
position of Rome towards the empire, which had originated in the policy or in
the caprice of Diocletian, was carried further by Constantine. He paid only two
visits to the city after that which followed his victory over Maxentius; and
his reception was not such as to make a favourable impression on his mind. With
wonderful speed a new capital, called after the emperor's name, was raised on
the site of Byzantium. Whereas Rome was the chief stronghold of heathenism,
Constantinople was to be wholly a Christian city. Churches were erected in
every quarter, Statues of gods and illustrious men were removed from the cities
and temples of Greece and Asia to decorate the streets and public places, while
they served as trophies of victory over the old religion. The chief room of the
palace was adorned with representations of sacred subjects, among which was one
of the crucifixion. The gladiatorial shows, and other barbarous exhibitions
which formed the delight of the Romans, were never allowed at Constantinople,
although in the older capital the popular feeling was as yet so strong that the
emperor did not venture to interfere with it.
In the outward
duties of religion Constantine was very diligent. He caused himself to be
represented in the attitude of prayer on coins and medals and in statues; he
studied the Scriptures, and regularly attended the services of the church; he
kept the paschal vigil with great devotion; he listened, standing, to the
longest addresses of his bishops; he even composed religious discourses, and
after they had been translated from Latin into Greek, with which he was but
imperfectly acquainted, he delivered them before his court. One of these
sermons is still extant, having been preserved as a specimen by Eusebius, to
whom it is probably indebted for more than its Greek idiom. In this composition
the emperor recommends the Christian religion, dwelling on the evidence borne
by prophecy, with which he classes the Sibylline verses and the fourth Eclogue
of Virgil; and, as was his custom, insisting strongly on the contrast between
his own prosperity and the calamities of princes who had persecuted the church.
In his journeys he was accompanied by a travelling chapel. Bishops were his
chosen associates; and too many of them were dazzled by the splendour of such a
position, so that he found them willing to let his faults pass uncensured, and
to admit a dangerous amount of interference in spiritual things. Eusebius
relates that one of these bishops—probably the historian himself—went so far in
flattering the emperor with assurances of salvation as even to draw down a
rebuke from him. It has indeed been maintained that Constantine's Christianity
was merely a matter of policy; but the charge is palpably unjust; for although
some of his measures as to religion were unquestionably dictated by political
interest,—although his understanding of Christian doctrine was very imperfect,
and his life was far from being that of a consistent believer,—there is no
reasonable ground for doubting that his conviction was sincere, and that he earnestly
endeavoured to employ his power for the benefit of the church and for the
extension of the truth.
The emperor's
mother, Helena, was induced by him to embrace his new religion, and during the
remaining years of her life distinguished herself by the fervour of her zeal
and devotion. In 326 she visited the Holy Land, with the intention of seeking
out the places which had been hallowed by the chief events of Scripture
history. The site of the holy sepulchre was to be marked by a church which
should exceed all others in splendour. The temple of Venus, with which Hadrian
had defiled the place, was demolished; the earth below it was dug up as
polluted, when, it is said, three crosses were discovered, and near them the
label on which the superscription had been written over the Saviour’s head. As,
however, there was not enough to distinguish with certainty the cross on which
he had suffered, Macarius, bishop of the city,
proposed a test. A lady of his flock, who was supposed to be at the point of
death, was carried to the spot; prayers were put up that the true cross might
be revealed through her cure; and, after two of the three had been applied to
her in vain, the third wrought an instantaneous recovery. In addition to the
place of the entombment, those of the nativity and the ascension, and the site
of the oak or turpentine-tree of Mamre, were covered
with churches, in token of Helena's piety, and of the unrestricted bounty which
Constantine enabled her to exercise.
The reign of
Constantine was marked by the beginning of two great controversies—the Donatistic and the Arian : the former arising in the west,
out of a disagreement as to discipline; the latter, of eastern origin,
involving the very essence of Christian doctrine. The emperor took part in
both, but the goodness of his intentions was not always directed by knowledge
and sound judgment. Wielding an absolute power, and imperfectly instructed as
to the faith which he professed, he was continually tempted to confound
religious with civil considerations. Sometimes the desire to preserve peace
among his subjects induced him to view error with indifference; at other times
he regarded and punished the proceedings of religious parties as offences
against his imperial authority.
We have repeatedly
had occasion to notice the peculiar character which marked the Christianity of
northern Africa. In that country Montanism had found a congenial soil, and had
acquired its great champion, Tertullian. From Africa, too, it was that the Novatianist sect had in part derived its origin; and there
its rigid principles had been received with the greatest enthusiasm. There the
strict view as to the nullity of schismatical baptism
had been maintained by Cyprian; and in the history of that great bishop we have
seen the extravagant honour which the Christians of Africa attached to the
outward acts of martyrdom and confessorship.
In the persecution
under Diocletian many of the African Christians exhibited the characteristic
spirit of their country. They endeavoured to provoke martyrdom by violent
behaviour; in some cases, it is said, they were impelled to this by debts,
disrepute, or wretchedness, and by the hope of at once washing away in their
blood the sins and crimes of a whole life. To all such courses Mensurius, bishop of Carthage, was strongly opposed. He
himself, when asked to give up the sacred books of his church, substituted for
them some heretical writings. He forbade his people to visit in prison those
who had ostentatiously courted death; he refused to acknowledge such persons as
martyrs; and in carrying out this policy his chief instrument was his
archdeacon, Caecilian.
In the year 305, a
synod of about twelve bishops met at Cirta (now
Constantine) to elect a bishop for that city. The president, Secundus, bishop of Tigisis and
primate of Numidia, began by inquiring into the conduct of his brethren during
the late persecution. Several confessed that they had delivered up the
Scriptures; one, Purpurius by name, on being charged
with the murder of two of his nephews, told Secundus that he was not to be frightened by such questions; that he had killed, and
would kill, all who stood in his way; and he taxed Secundus himself with being a traditor. When the inquiry had proceeded so
far as to inculpate the greater part of the bishops who were present, one of
them proposed that, for the sake of peace, past offences should be forgotten,
and that everyone should make his account to God alone; and the synod, acting
on this suggestion, proceeded to elect one who had been a traditor,
Silvanus, to the see of Cirta. It is to be noted that
the very persons who on this occasion were so lenient towards the crime of traditorship became afterwards the chief leaders of the
more rigid party.
Although Mensurius had incurred much enmity by his conduct during
the persecution, the spirit which he had provoked did not break out into any
considerable manifestation during his lifetime. On his death, which took place
in 311, as he was returning from Rome, where he had been summoned to appear
before Maxentius, two presbyters, named Botrus and Celesius, aspired to the vacant see, and, for their own
purposes, contrived that the election should take place without summoning the
Numidian bishops. The choice, however, fell on the archdeacon Caecilian, who
was consecrated by Felix, bishop of Aptunga. Before
leaving Carthage, Mensurius had intrusted some plate
and other property of the church to certain elders of the congregation, and had
left an inventory in the hands of a female member of his flock. This document
was now delivered to Caecilian, who asked the elders to produce the articles
enumerated in it; and these persons, who had supposed themselves secure against
inquiry, and had intended to appropriate the deposit, endeavoured to avenge
themselves by forming a party in opposition to the new bishop. The faction was
joined by the disappointed presbyters, and was supported by the influence and
wealth of Lucilla, a lady whom Caecilian had formerly offended by
reproving her for a practice of kissing the bone of a supposed martyr before
partaking of the Eucharist. In consequence of an invitation from the
malcontents, a body of Numidian bishops, seventy in number, and headed by their
primate, Secundus, appeared at Carthage. They cited
Caecilian before them, alleging that he ought not to have been consecrated
except in their presence, and by the primate of Numidia; and, moreover, that
his consecration was void, inasmuch as Felix of Aptunga was a traditor. Personal charges were also brought against
Caecilian. His exertions to check the fanatical spirit during the persecution
were exaggerated into monstrous inhumanity; it was said that he had stationed
men at the prison-doors, with whips in their hands, to drive away such of the
faithful as should carry provisions for the relief of the martyrs; that he
himself had beaten some persons who went to the prison on this errand of
charity; that he had broken the vessels which they carried, and had scattered
the food, so that some of the prisoners had in consequence been starved to death.
In answer to the summons of the Numidians, Caecilian refused to appear before
them, but professed himself willing to satisfy them if they would go to him; he
maintained that his consecration was regular and valid, and offered, if they
could prove it otherwise, to submit to a fresh consecration at their hands. On
this Purpurius broke out with his usual violence:
“Let him come”, he said, “to receive our imposition of hands, and we will break
his head by way of penance”. The Numidians excommunicated Caecilian with his
adherents, and ordained a rival bishop, Majorinus,
who had formerly been a reader under him, but was now a member of Lucilla’s
household. By this formation of a decided schism, many persons, who had before
stood aloof from Caecilian, were induced to return to his communion.
Constantine, soon
after becoming master of the west by his victory over Maxentius, sent a large
sum of money for the relief of the African Christians; and as reports which
reached him had produced impressions unfavourable to the malcontent party, he
ordered that his gifts, with the privileges conferred on Christians by his late
edicts should be limited to those who were in communion with Caecilian, while
he used some harsh language as to the “madness” of their opponents. On this the
discontented party, through the proconsul Anulinus,
presented to the emperor a petition, desiring that their cause might be
examined by the bishops of Gaul, from whom it was supposed that impartiality
might be expected, as their country had been exempt from the late persecution,
so that they had escaped the difficulties and dissensions connected with the
question of giving up the Scriptures. Even such an application to the civil
power—a request that it would appoint a commission of ecclesiastical judges—was
altogether inconsistent with the attitude which the Donatists afterwards
assumed towards the state; and their adversaries did not fail in later times to
remind them from which party the original appeal to the emperor had proceeded.
Constantine complied
with their request by issuing a commission to the bishops of Cologne, Autun, and Arles, with whom he joined Melchiades (or Miltiades) of Rome, and another; but this commission was afterwards
extended, so that the assembly before which the cause was tried consisted of
about twenty bishops, who in October 313 met in the Lateran, then the palace of
the empress Fausta. Caecilian attended, with ten
bishops of his party; and a like number of accusers appeared, headed by
Donatus, bishop of Casse Nigra, in Numidia. The
decision was in favour of Caecilian, and Melchiades proposed a conciliatory expedient—that both parties should reunite in
communion, and that, where rival bishops laid claim to a see, the bishop who
had the earlier consecration should keep possession. Donatus and his brethren,
however, disdained all compromise. They complained that their cause had not
been sufficiently examined; they renewed their charges; they accused the judges
of corruption; they declared that a synod of only twenty bishops was
insufficient to overrule the sentence of the seventy who had condemned
Caecilian; and they prayed the emperor to grant them a further hearing.
On this
Constantine summoned a council from all parts of the western empire to Arles,
whither the judges, the accusers, and the accused were conveyed at the public
expense. About two hundred bishops—by far the greatest ecclesiastical assembly
that had yet been known (if the number be rightly given),—met on the 1st of
August 314, under the presidency of Marinus, bishop of Arles. The bishops of
Rome and of Ostia were represented by deputies. The deliberations of the
council resulted in a fresh acquittal of Caecilian, and some canons were passed
with a view to the African dissensions. It was enacted that clergymen who had
given up the Scriptures, the sacred vessels, or the lists of the faithful,
should be deposed, if convicted by the evidence of public records, but that
mere hearsay testimony was not to be admitted in such cases; that false
accusers should be excluded from communion, and should not be readmitted until
in prospect of death; that if a person in himself unexceptionable had been
ordained by a traditor, his ordination should stand valid. And, for
the settlement of the old question as to baptism, it was decided that, where a
person had received baptism from heretics in the name of the Trinity, he should
be admitted into the church by imposition of hands for the conveying of the
Holy Spirit; but that, if the proper form of words had not been used, he should
be rebaptized.
The defeated party
entreated the emperor to take the matter into his own hands—a request which
contrasts strangely with the principles which they afterwards maintained as to
the independence of the ecclesiastical power. Although offended by their
obstinacy, Constantine agreed, and, after some delays, the question was heard
before him at Milan, where he gave a sentence to the same effect with
those already pronounced by the synods of Rome and Arles. This judgment was
followed up by severe edicts against the sectaries. They were deprived of their
churches; many of them suffered banishment and confiscation; even the
punishment of death was enacted against them, although it does not appear
that this law was enforced in any case during the reign of Constantine.
Majorinus is supposed to have died in
315, or earlier, and was succeeded in the schismatical episcopate by Donatus “the Great”—so styled by his followers for the sake of
distinction from the bishop of Casae Nigrae. It was from this second Donatus that the sect,
which had before been known as “the party of Majorinus”,
took the name which it bears in history. He is described as learned, eloquent,
a voluminous writer, a man of rigid life, but of excessive pride. He is said to
have been desirous that his followers, instead of being styled Christians in
common with their opponents, should be called after himself (although at a
later time they resented the appellation) to have carried himself loftily
towards the other bishops of his communion; to have scorned to receive the
Eucharist in public; to have been very intemperate in his language towards all
who differed from him. His partisans boasted of his miracles, and of the
answers which he had received to prayer, and are charged with paying him
honours which trenched on those due to the Deity—with singing hymns to him, and
swearing by his grey hairs. The character of the sectaries answered to that of
their chief. They displayed an extreme austerity, which was too often a pretext
for the neglect of the more unpretending duties of morality and religion. They
professed to embody in each individual that holiness which Scripture ascribes
to the ideal church of Christ as a whole. They held that the true church
existed only in their own communion, which, with the exception of one scanty
congregation at Rome and the private chapel of a wealthy female Donatist in
Spain, was limited to a corner of Africa. They boasted of miracles and
revelations. They rebaptized proselytes, and compelled such professed virgins
as joined the party to submit to penance, and to renew their vows.
Constantine soon
began to perceive that against such fanaticism force would be as unavailing as
reason. In 317 he wrote to the catholic bishops of Africa, exhorting them to
treat the schismatics with gentleness; and when, in 321, the Donatists
presented to him a memorial, in which they declared that they would have
nothing to do with his “scoundrel of a bishop”, he repealed the laws against
them, and allowed their exiles to return—expressing a horror of their frenzy
and turbulence, but declaring that he left them to the judgment of God. This
policy of indulgence was continued throughout the remaining years of the reign,
during which the emperor's attention was drawn away from the African schism by the
nearer and more widely-spread Arian controversy. In the meanwhile the Donatists
became the stronger party in Africa. A synod of the sect in 330 was attended by
two hundred and seventy bishops, and the whole number of their bishops is said
to have at one time amounted to four hundred.
The appearance of
the circumcellions among the Donatists is placed by
some writers as early as 317, while others date it a quarter of a century
later. These were persons of the poorest class, ignorant of any language but
the Punic; their name was derived from the practice of begging around the cells or
cottages of the country people, instead of earning a livelihood by regular
industry. The accounts of them might be disbelieved, as fictions of their
enemies, were it not that later experience forbids us to be hasty in rejecting
statements of extravagances and crimes committed under the name of religion.
Their zeal was often combined with excesses of drunkenness and lust; and in
these the “sacred virgins” of the party shared. Bands of both sexes roamed
about the country, keeping the peaceable inhabitants in constant terror. They
styled themselves the Lord’s champions; their shout of “Praises to God!” was
heard, according to St. Augustine, with greater dread than the roaring of a lion.
Supposing that our Lord’s words to St. Peter (Matt. XVI. 52) forbade them the
use of swords, they at first carried no other weapon than heavy clubs, called Israels, with which they beat their victims—often to death;
but the scriptural scruple was afterwards overcome, and they added to their “Israels” not only slings, but swords, lances, and hatchets.
They attacked and plundered the churches and houses of the catholic clergy;
they committed violent outrages on their persons; in later days they used to put
out their eyes with a mixture of lime and vinegar. Professing to redress
the wrongs of society, they interfered between creditors and their debtors,
between masters and their slaves; offences which deserved punishment were
allowed to pass unnoticed, lest the circumcellions should be called in by the culprits; all property was unsafe in the region
infested by these furious fanatics; and the officers of justice were afraid to
perform their functions.
The frenzy of the circumcellions was directed against themselves as well as
others. Sometimes they courted death by violently disturbing the pagan
worships. They stopped travellers on the roads, and, with threats of killing
them, demanded death at their hands. In the same way, they compelled judges who
were travelling on their circuits to hand them over to the executioners. Many
drowned themselves, rushed into fire, or threw themselves from precipices; but
hanging was a death which they eschewed, because they would have nothing in
common with the traditor Judas. The more moderate Donatists
disapproved and dreaded the excesses of the circumcellions.
Councils of the sect condemned suicide; but the practice continued, and
those who perpetrated or procured their own death were popularly honoured as
martyrs.
Constans, who in
337 succeeded to the western part of his father's empire, endeavoured to
conciliate the Donatists by the same system of presents which had been found
effectual in winning proselytes from heathenism to the church. It would seem
that three such attempts were made; the agents in the last of them were Paul
and Macarius, who were sent into Africa in 347. When
these commissioners invited all Christians to share in the emperor's gifts,
Donatus repelled the offer with a great show of indignation : “What”, he asked,
“has the emperor to do with the church?”—and he forbade the members of his
communion to accept anything from traditors. It was reported that
the commissioners were charged to set up the emperor's image in churches for
the purpose of adoration. The circumcellions rose in
revolt, and a battle was fought, in which the imperial troops were
victorious—two Donatist bishops, the chief instigators of the insurrection,
being among the slain. Macarius then required the
sectaries to return to the church, and sentenced those who refused to
banishment.
Optatus, the chief controversial
opponent of Donatism until the time of Augustine, acknowledges that they were
treated with harshness, but assures us that this was against the wishes of the
catholic bishops. The Donatists in Augustine's day used to speak of the “times
of Macarius” as those in which their forefathers had
been most severely tried; and they affected to call the catholics Macarians, in memory of the persecutor. By the
vigorous measures employed against them, the schism appeared to be suppressed
for a time, and Donatus died in exile.
The distinctive
tenet of Arianism—the denial of the Saviour's Godhead—had already appeared in
the heresies of the Ebionites, of Artemon, and of Theodotus.
But now that Christianity had assumed a new position, questions of doctrine
produced an amount of agitation before unknown; the Arian controversy, and some
which followed it, were not only felt throughout the whole church, but had an
important effect on political affairs. And, sad as it undoubtedly is to
contemplate the distractions thus occasioned, we must yet remember that by
fighting out these differences, instead of attempting to stifle them by
compromise, the church gained a fixed and definite form of sound words, which was
of the greatest value, and even necessity, for the preservation of her faith
through the ages of ignorance which followed.
Although
Alexandria was the birthplace of Arianism, the origin of the heresy is rather
to be traced to the other great church of the east, over which Paul of Samosata
had exerted a powerful and lasting influence. While the Alexandrian tendency
was spiritual and mystical, the theologians of Antioch were given to dialectic
subtleties, and were more distinguished for acuteness than for largeness or
depth of mind; and such was the tone which prevailed in the school of Lucian,
an eminent teacher of Antioch, whose history has already been noticed. Lucian,
induced rather by a sympathy with Paul's spirit than by any near agreement in
his opinions, left the church together with the bishop, or in consequence of
his condemnation: and although he afterwards returned, and was honoured in the
church as a martyr, the effects of his teaching remained for evil. The Arians
claimed him as their founder. Among his pupils were Eusebius of Nicomedia, Leontius, and other persons who became prominent as leaders
of the party; even Arius himself has been reckoned as one of them, although the
connection appears very doubtful.
Arius is supposed
to have been, like Sabellius, a native of Libya or
Cyrenaica. He is described as a man of strict life, of grave appearance and
agreeable manners—with an air of modesty, under which, according to his
enemies, he concealed strong feelings of vanity and ambition. After having been
ordained deacon by Peter, bishop of Alexandria, about the beginning of the
century, he became connected with a party which Meletius,
bishop of Lycopolis, the second in rank of the
Egyptian sees, had formed on grounds which appear to have resembled those of
the Donatistic schism. For this, Arius was
excommunicated by Peter; but the next bishop, Achillas,
readmitted him to the church, ordained him presbyter, and intrusted him with a
parochial cure in the city. On the death of Achillas (A.D.311), after an episcopate of a few months, Arius is said by some writers
to have aspired to the bishopric; Philostorgius, a
member of his party, even states that he had a majority of votes, and that
he voluntarily gave way to Alexander, who was elected. But there is no good
evidence for the story of his having been a candidate at all.
Amidst
contradictory reports as to the beginning of the controversy, it seems to be
certain that on some public occasion, when Alexander was discoursing on the
unity of the Divine Trinity, Arius charged his doctrine with Sabellianism.
Alexander at first endeavoured to convince him of his error by friendly
expostulations; but, finding that they were ineffectual, that he himself was
blamed for tolerating Arius, and that a presbyter named Colluthus even made this the pretext for a schism, the bishop appointed a conference, at
which, after having heard the arguments on both sides with judicial
impartiality, he decided against Arius. The condemnation was ratified by a
synod of Egyptian and Libyan bishops; and the heresiarch with his adherents was
excommunicated.
Arius found many
to sympathize with him—partly from the attractiveness of a doctrine which
brought down the mysteries of the Godhead to the sphere of human analogies and
conceptions; partly because the multitude is usually ready to take part with any one who may suffer from the exercise of lawful
authority. Among his followers were two bishops, about twelve presbyters and as
many deacons, and a great number of virgins. Being unable to remain at
Alexandria, he took refuge in Palestine, and a lively correspondence
followed—Arius endeavouring to gain friends by veiling his more offensive
opinions, while Alexander dispersed warnings against him, and withstood all the
intercessions of the historian Eusebius, bishop of Caesarea, and of others who
attempted to mediate.
Among these was
another Eusebius, who had been associated with Arius as a disciple or admirer
of Lucian, and was now bishop of Nicomedia. Eusebius procured from a Bithynian
synod an acknowledgment of his friend as orthodox, and received him when he had
been dislodged from Palestine through the influence of the Alexandrian bishop.
At Nicomedia the heresiarch composed his Thalia—a book chiefly
consisting of verses, and described by his opponents as an imitation of a
heathen versifier named Sotades, whose writings are
said to have been alike disgusting in subject and contemptible in execution.
The Thalia was intended to advance the Arian doctrine by
introducing it into pieces which might be sung as an accompaniment of meals;
and with a like view Arius wrote songs for millers, sailors, and travellers.
The character of his mind, as exhibited in his heresy and in the arguments for
it, forbids us to suppose that these productions had anything of poetry except
the form.
Constantine, on
becoming master of the east, found the church distracted by the newly-risen
controversy. In the hope of allaying this he wrote a letter to Alexander and
Arius jointly—telling them that belief in a Providence was the one essential
doctrine of Christianity, while he reproved them for contending about idle
questions and imaginary differences, and recommended peace and unity, which, he
said, they might learn even from the manner in which the heathen philosophers
conducted their disputes. This document has been highly extolled as a model of
wisdom and moderation, but would better deserve the praise if the Godhead of
the Redeemer were, in a Christian view, that utterly trifling matter which the
emperor then supposed it to be. Armed with the imperial letter, Hosius, bishop of Cordova, to whom the settlement of the
affair was committed, proceeded to Alexandria, and held a synod; but, although
he succeeded in healing the schism of Colluthus,
the only result as to the Arian question was to convince him that the Arians
were impracticable. The dissensions occasioned by the controversy had by this
time become very serious; the disputes of the Christians were ridiculed in the
heathen theatres; and in some places the emperor's statues were treated with
indignity.
Constantine now
took a new view of the affair. He began to understand that the doctrine at
stake was of the highest and most essential importance; and, moreover, the
Arians appeared to him as disturbers of the public peace. In order, therefore,
to a settlement of the controversy, and of the disputes as to the time of
Easter, which had been lately revived, he summoned a general council of the
whole church, to be held at Nicaea, in Bithynia. It was the first time that
such an assemblage, had been possible; for never until now had the east and the
west been united under a sovereign professing the Christian faith : and the
summons necessarily proceeded from the imperial authority, as being the only
authority which was acknowledged by all the Christians of the empire.
Something has been
said in a former chapter as to the manner in which the Christian doctrines on
such subjects as that which was now in question had gradually been defined and
exhibited. In the earlier time, down to the age of Irenaeus, the Godhead of
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost had been strongly held; so strongly, indeed,
that the language of the fathers might have been misconstrued into something
like Sabellianism. When heresies of that character had appeared, from the time
of Praxeas downwards, they had been met by
declarations which tended to establish the distinction of the Divine Persons,
with a subordination of the Second and the Third as ministering to the First.
The task appointed for the fourth century was to reconcile and to combine the
truths which had thus been successively brought into prominence.
The terms by which
the relations of the Divine Being had been expressed were intended to be
regarded as complementary of each other in conveying such a shadow of the mystery
as is within the compass of human thought and language; and, if taken singly,
they were liable to be misunderstood. Thus the term Son, while it expressed the
sameness of nature and the derivation of “God from God”, was defective,
inasmuch as it suggested ideas of posteriority, inferiority, material
generation, and too great personal distinctness. On the other hand, the term
Word or Reason conveyed the ideas of coeternity, essential indwelling, and
mediation, but tended to obscure that of personality—rather suggesting that the
Second was to the First as an attribute or a mode of operation. On the
incompleteness of such images Arius founded his heresy. His original objection
against Alexander was, that, if the Son were begotten, the Father was anterior
to him; therefore the Son had a beginning; “once he was not”. He could not (it
was argued) have been taken from the Father's substance; therefore he was
made out of nothing. And thus, by a sophism drawn from the title of Son, Arius
concluded against the very doctrine which that term was expressly intended
to convey—the identity of nature between the Second Person and the First. The
Word, he said, was created by the Father, at his own will, before the worlds
—before all time. He was the highest of creatures—“a creature, yet not as one
of the creatures”—and therefore styled only begotten. He was framed after the
pattern of the indwelling Divine Logos or Wisdom, enlightened by it, and called
by its name. But although the Arians exhausted language in expressing the
height of the Son’s elevation, they yet, by representing him as a creature,
removed him to an infinite distance from the supreme Source of being. They
assigned him a part like that of the gnostic demiurge in the work of creation;
God (they said) created by him, because the Divinity itself could not come into
contact with the finite world. According to them, he was employed in creation
as an instrument, whereas in catholic language the Father was said to have
wrought by him as by a hand. It was said that the Son was styled God in an
inferior sense—as men also are occasionally so styled in Scripture. The texts
in which he himself speaks of his unity with the Father were explained as
signifying either a mere agreement of will, or an indwelling of God in him
after the same manner as in men.
The
peculiar weapon of Arius was logic; his mind was incapable of any speculation
which rose into a higher region. The details of his system are obscured,
partly by the variations to which he resorted as the consequences of his
principles were pressed on him; partly by his own recoil from results which he
had not foreseen or understood; and partly from his wish to disguise his
opinions in such terms as might seem most plausible to the orthodox, and might
be most likely to win for him the sympathy of the undiscerning. Among the
doctrines which he once held and afterwards retracted was that of the
mutability of the Son’s will. He might, it was said, have fallen like Satan;
the Father, foreseeing that he would not fall, anticipated the reward of his
merits by bestowing on him the titles of Son and Logos, which he was afterwards
to earn.
The incarnation,
according to Arius, was merely the assumption by the Son of a human body—his
nature supplying the place of a soul. Hence scriptural expressions, which
really relate to the Saviour’s humanity, were applied to his pre-existent
nature, and it was argued from them that that nature was inferior to the
Divine.
The first general
council met at Nicaea in June 325. The number of bishops present was about
three hundred, and with them were many of the lower clergy. Even some heathen
philosophers were attracted to the place of assembly and held conferences
and disputes with the bishops.
The controversy
had not yet begun to agitate the west; and from that portion of the emperor's
dominions there were only Hosius of Cordova,
Caecilian of Carthage, and two Roman presbyters, Vito and Vincent, sent as
representatives of their bishop, Sylvester, whose age prevented his attendance.
One bishop came from Scythia, and one from Persia, while the great body were
from the eastern division of the empire. Among those who were thus assembled
there was, no doubt, much variety as to their amount of ability and knowledge;
but the object of their meeting was not one which required any high
intellectual qualifications. For the more subtle arguments and definitions were
not introduced into the controversy until a later time, and the fathers who
assembled at Nicaea were not called to reason on the grounds of their belief,
but to witness to the faith which the church had held on the disputed subjects.
It has been supposed by some writers that Eustathius of Antioch was president; by some, that the bishops of Alexandria and Antioch
presided by turns; while others have assigned the chief place to Eusebius of
Caesarea. The most general opinion, however, is in favour of Hosius, whose name is first among the subscriptions but
there is no ground whatever for the idea that the office belonged to him in the
character of a Roman legate, or that he held that character in any way.
The number of bishops favourable to Arius is variously stated at thirteen,
seventeen, and twenty-two; the most eminent among them were the two Eusebiuses, —who, however, did not fully agree in doctrine,
as the bishop of Nicomedia carried his views to the whole length of the heresy,
while the historian's opinions appear to have been of the class afterwards
styled semi-Arian. In the earlier
sessions, which seem to have been held in a church, Arius was repeatedly heard
by the fathers in defence of his opinions. He avowed his heresy without
disguise, and it is said that the avowal caused all who were present to stop
their ears. His chief opponents in argument were Marcellus, bishop of Ancyra,
and Athanasius, archdeacon of Alexandria, who was in attendance on his bishop,
Alexander.
About a fortnight
after the opening of the council, Constantine arrived at Nicaea, and the
sittings were transferred to the palace where the emperor appeared at them, and
acted as a moderator. Immediately on his arrival, he found himself beset by
bishops who eagerly importuned him to listen to their grievances against each
other; and as these quarrels were not only scandalous, but seemed likely to
interfere with the proper business of the council, he resolved to put a summary
end to them. Having appointed a day for the decision of such matters, he took
his seat as judge, and received all the memorials which contained the mutual
complaints and recriminations of the bishops. Then, after having shortly
exhorted them to unity and concord, he burnt the documents without opening
them, “lest the contentions of the priests should become known to any one”.
After this, the council proceeded to the discussion for which it had been
assembled. The partisans of Arius, and especially that section of which
Eusebius of Nicomedia was the leader, attempted to shelter themselves under
ambiguous terms. Eusebius of Caesarea offered for acceptance a creed which
he declared to be agreeable to the faith which he had received from his
predecessors, which he had learnt as a catechumen, and had always held and
taught; but this document, although of orthodox appearance, was so artfully
framed as to evade the very questions which it was the business of the council
to determine. He censured the terms proposed by the Catholics, as not being
scriptural;—a futile objection, inasmuch as the matter in dispute was the sense
of those Scriptures which all professed to accept; and somewhat shameless, as
coming from a party which had opened the controversy by the introduction of
terms unknown to Scripture. In order to meet the evasions of this creed, the
word homoousion (i.e. of the same substance or
essence) was proposed. Objections were taken to it, as tending to suggest the
notion of materiality, as obscuring the personal distinction, as having been
connected with some heretical systems, and, in particular, as having been
condemned (although in another sense) by the council which deposed Paul of
Samosata. Eusebius, however, acknowledged that it had been used by fathers of
good repute, and at length he agreed to adopt it. A creed was drawn up,
resembling that of Eusebius, and, like it, mainly derived from the older forms
of the eastern church, but differing from it by the addition of the necessary
safeguards against the Arian errors; and this creed, with a solemn condemnation
of Arius, was generally signed by the bishops—among the rest by
Eusebius himself, whose adhesion, as explained in a letter to his flock,
was more creditable to his ingenuity than to his candour. The learned and
courtly historian professed to have accepted the word homoousion as
meaning that the Son was like the Father, and unlike all the other creatures;
and to have joined in the condemnation of Arius because the censured terms were
novel and unscriptural, but without intending either to pronounce the opinions
in question false, or to affirm that they were held by the accused.
The paschal
question was settled by a decision against the quartodeciman practice. Twenty canons were passed on various subjects connected with the
government and discipline of the church; and the deliberations of the council
were succeeded by the celebration of Constantine’s Vicennalia,
during which he entertained the bishops at a splendid banquet, and, after
having exhorted them to cultivate peace among themselves, dismissed them with a
request that they would pray for him.
The emperor
followed up the council’s judgment by banishing Arius into Illyria, and
including in the sentence two Egyptians, Secundus and Theonas, who were the only bishops that had
throughout adhered to the heresiarch. Severe penalties were denounced against
Arius and his followers, and it was even made a capital offence to possess his
writings. Constantine ordered that the party should be styled Porphyrians,— a name derived from that of the latest
noted controversialist who had appeared on the side of heathenism and intended
to brand the Arians as enemies of the Christian faith; and in a letter
addressed to the heresiarch, the emperor, not content with vehemently attacking
his doctrine, and condescended to pun on his name and to ridicule his personal
appearance. Three months after the council, Eusebius of Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicaea, who had subscribed the creed but not
the anathema, were condemned by a local synod on some new charge; and the
emperor, who had given orders for their trial, sentenced them to banishment.
Within a few
months after his return from Nicaea, Alexander, bishop of Alexandria, died.
Athanasius, whom he had recommended for his successor in the see, was then
absent,—having, it would seem, intentionally prolonged his absence on a mission
to the court from a wish to avoid the dangerous and laborious dignity. He was,
however, chosen by general acclamation; and although some faint charges of
irregularity were afterwards brought against the manner of his appointment, it
would seem to have been really beyond exception. From the age of thirty to that
of seventy-six Athanasius held the see, devoting himself with all his powers to
the assertion of the orthodox doctrine, which for him was no speculative
opinion, but was intimately connected with the whole Christian life. To his
abilities and constancy is due, under the Divine Providence, the preservation
of the eastern church, and perhaps even of the whole church, from the adoption
of the Arian heresy, or from a vague and creedless system, which would probably
have issued in an utter abandonment of Christianity. He displays in his
writings a manly and direct eloquence; a remarkable and unusual combination of
subtlety with breadth of mind; extreme acuteness in argument, yet at the same
time a superiority to mere contentiousness about words. His unbending
steadiness of purpose was united with a rare skill in dealing with men; he knew
when to give way, as well as when to make a show no resistance. His activity,
his readiness, his foresight, his wonderful escapes and adventures, gave
countenance to the stories of magical art which circulated among his enemies,
and to the belief of his admirers that he possessed the gifts of miracles and
prophecy. Throughout all his troubles he was supported by the attachment of his
people, and of the hundred bishops who owned allegiance to the see of
Alexandria.
The Arian party in
no long time began to gain strength in the imperial court. Constantia, the
widow of Licinius and sister of Constantine—a
princess who had been under the influence of Eusebius of Nicomedia—was
persuaded by a presbyter whose name is said by writers of later date to have
been Eutocius, that Arius had been misrepresented and
unjustly condemned. When on her death-bed, she endeavoured to impress her
brother with the same belief, and recommended the presbyter to him; and by this
man the emperor, whose apprehension of the question had never been independent
or discerning, was persuaded to invite Arius to his court. The
heresiarch appeared, with Euzoius, a deacon of
Alexandria, who had been included in the excommunication. They produced a
creed, which although defective in the critical points, was expressed in
inoffensive, and for the most part scriptural, terms; and Constantine was
satisfied of their orthodoxy. Eusebius and Theognis also soon obtained a recall, protesting that they had no sympathy with the
errors imputed to Arius; that their only offence had been that of doubting
whether he held these errors—a doubt, they said, which the emperor himself had
lately justified.
The Arian or
Eusebian party had now full possession of court influence, and they made an
unscrupulous use of it to eject such catholic bishops as stood in the way.
Among these was Eustathius, bishop of Antioch, who
had offended them by charging Eusebius of Caesarea with unfaithfulness to the
Nicene doctrine. Eusebius retorted by an accusation of Sabellianism—an error
which the Arianizers habitually imputed to their
orthodox opponents; and at a party synod, held in his own city, the bishop of
Antioch was deposed on charges of heresy and adultery, which were alike
unfounded. As the attachment of his people to Eustathius,
and their indignation at this sentence, appeared to threaten a disturbance of
the public peace, the emperor's jealousy was aroused, and the bishop was sent
into exile. After two Arians in succession had held the see for a short time,
Eusebius was solicited to accept it; he declined, however, and his refusal was
approved by the emperor.
The occupant of
the other great eastern see was far more obnoxious, not only on account of his
formidable character and talents, but as being the bishop of that church from
which Arius had been expelled, and through which it was desired by his
partisans that he should be formally readmitted to catholic communion. After
Eusebius of Nicomedia had in vain attempted to mediate, the emperor himself was
persuaded to write to Athanasius, requiring him to receive Arius with his
followers, and threatening deposition and banishment in case of refusal. But
the undaunted bishop replied that he could not acknowledge persons who had been
condemned by a decree of the whole church; and Constantine desisted from urging
the matter.
The Arians now
made overtures to the Meletians. The council of Nicaea had endeavoured to
provide for the healing of the Meletian schism by an arrangement as to the
possession of sees which were claimed both by catholic and by Meletian bishops,
but Meletius, although for a time he acquiesced in
this measure, had afterwards been persuaded to continue the breach
by ordaining one John to succeed him as the chief of his community. The
Meletians, in their enmity against the Alexandrian primate, were easily induced
to lend themselves as tools to his Arian opponents; and, although hitherto free
from doctrinal error, they gradually became infected with the heresy of their
new allies. In the alleged grievances of the Meletians the Arians found means
of besieging the emperor with a multitude of complaints against Athanasius; but
the bishop exposed the futility of these complaints so successfully as even for
a time to turn Constantine's indignation against the authors of them.
In 334 Athanasius
was summoned to appear before a council at Caesarea, but disregarded the
citation on the ground that he could not expect justice at the hands of such a
tribunal. In the following year was cited before another council, to be held at
Tyre; and as the order was then enforced by the imperial authority, with
threats of personal violence, he thought it well to comply. At this assembly
sixty bishops were present, and a lay commissioner of the emperor directed and
overawed their proceedings. Athanasius appeared at the head of fifty Egyptian
bishops, and was about to take the place to which the dignity of his see
entitled him, when he was ordered by the president, Eusebius of Caesarea, to
stand, as being a person under accusation. On this one of the Egyptian bishops, Potammon, a man of high repute for sanctity, is said
to have addressed Eusebius: “Do you sit, while the innocent Athanasius is tried
before you? Remember how you were my fellow-prisoner in the persecution. I lost
an eye for the truth : by what compliances was it that you came off unhurt?”.
Eusebius found it expedient to evade the question. “Your behavior”,
he answered, “gives countenance to the charges against your party; for if you
try to play the tyrants here, no doubt you must do so much more at home”. And
he broke up the meeting for the day.
Athanasius was
arraigned on a variety of charges, some of them arising out of collisions with
the remaining adherents of Meletius and Colluthus, in the course of the visitations which he indefatigably
performed throughout his vast province. The most serious was, that he had
killed a Meletian bishop named Arsenius, had cut off
one of his hands, and had used it for magical purposes; and a human hand was
exhibited in evidence of these crimes. In answer to all these charges,
Athanasius defended himself boldly and triumphantly. The story as to Arsenius was refuted by producing the man himself, alive
and unmutilated,—the friends of Athanasius having succeeded in discovering him,
notwithstanding the endeavours of the opposite party to keep him concealed. As
the case against Athanasius had thus broken down, a commission, chosen from
among his bitterest enemies, was sent into the Mareotis to collect fresh evidence against him. He protested against the unfair
composition of this body; and, without waiting for the result of its inquiries,
he embarked for Constantinople, threw himself in the emperor's way as he was
riding near the city, and, reminding him of the judgment at which they must
both one day appear, extorted from him a promise of a new investigation in the
imperial presence. Constantine was so far moved by this appeal that he wrote in
a tone of reproof to the council, which had already decreed the deposition and
excommunication of Athanasius, and, having removed to Jerusalem for the purpose
of dedicating the magnificent church which the emperor had lately erected
over the holy sepulchre, had there admitted Arius and Euzoius to communion.
The leaders of the
Arian faction persuaded the other bishops to return to their homes, and
themselves repaired to Constantinople. Dropping the charges on which they had
condemned Athanasius in the council, they asserted that he had threatened to
stop the sailing of the Egyptian fleet, on which the new capital depended for
its supplies of corn. The accusation was well devised with a view to rouse
Constantine’s jealousy; for on a similar suspicion he had a few years before
put to death a philosopher named Sopater, who had
long enjoyed his intimacy; and the artifice of the Arians was successful.
Whether from belief of the charge, from a wish to remove so influential a man
from a scene where he might be dangerous, with a view of withdrawing him for a
time from exposure to the malice of his enemies, the emperor banished Athanasius
to Treves, where the champion of orthodoxy found an honourable reception at the
court of the younger Constantine.
But the spirit of
its bishop continued to animate the Alexandrian church. The attempts of
Arius to obtain re-admission were steadily repelled; and at length reports of
disturbances occasioned by his proceedings induced the emperor to summon him to
Constantinople. A council which was sitting there condemned Marcellus of Ancyra,
one of Athanasius’ most conspicuous partisans, on a charge of Sabellianism, to
which he had at least given countenance by the use of incautious language; and
it is said that the same council ordered the admission of Arius to communion.
The heresiarch appeared before the emperor, and without hesitation subscribed a
profession of orthodoxy, declaring that he had never held any other doctrine.
With this compliance Constantine was satisfied, and sending for the bishop,
Alexander, he told him that Arius must be received into communion on the
following day, which was Sunday. Alexander, who had occupied the see of
Byzantium while it was as yet an undistinguished city, and had now almost
completed his hundredth year, had already been threatened by Eusebius of
Nicomedia with deposition in case of a refusal, and had been for weeks
engaged with his flock in solemn deprecation of the intended evil. On leaving
the emperor’s presence, he entered the church of Peace, prostrated himself
under the holy table, and prayed that, rather than he should witness such a
profanation, either he himself or the heresiarch might be taken from the world.
On the evening of the same day, Arius was parading the streets of the city on
horseback amidst a large party of his adherents, talking lightly and in a
triumphant tone of the ceremonies appointed for the morrow, when the pressure
of a natural necessity compelled him to dismount and withdraw. He was soon
after found dead, and his end is related with circumstances which are intended
by the narrators to recall to mind that of the traitor Judas.
Notwithstanding
the part which Constantine had taken in the affairs of the church, he had not
yet been received as a member of it by baptism, when, in his sixty-fourth year,
he was seized with a dangerous sickness, at a palace near Nicomedia. Feeling
the approach of death, he sent for some bishops, to whom he declared that he
had deferred his baptism from a wish to receive it in the waters of Jordan, but
that, as the opportunity of doing so was denied to him, he begged them to
administer the sacrament. After having been admitted by imposition of hands to
the highest class of catechumens, he was baptized by the bishop of the
neighbouring city, Eusebius, and during the remaining days of his life he
retained the white robe of baptism, refusing to wear the imperial purple. On
Whitsunday at noon, in the year 337, he expired.
CHAPTER II.
THE SONS OF CONSTANTINE
A.D. 337-361.
The first
Christian emperor was succeeded by his three sons, Constantine, Constantius,
and Constans. The eldest, who held the sovereignty of Gaul, Spain, and Britain,
was killed in 340, in an invasion of Italy, which was part of the territory of
Constans; and Constans took possession of all that belonged to his deceased
brother. In 350 Constans himself was put to death by Magnentius; and on the
defeat of that usurper, in 353, the whole empire was reunited under
Constantius, who had until then been sovereign of the east.
Constantine, it is
said, intrusted his testament to the same Arian presbyter who had exerted so
important an influence on the religious policy of his last years; and by
him it was delivered to Constantius, who happened to be nearer than either of
his brothers to the place of their father’s death. By this service Eutocius (if that was his name) obtained free entrance to
the palace; and in no long time the Arian doctrine had been embraced by the
emperor, the empress, the ladies of her court, and the eunuchs—a class of
persons which Constantine had confined to inferior offices, but which in this
reign became so important as to justify the sarcasm of a heathen historian, who
described the emperor's relation to them by saying that he had considerable
interest with their chief. Constantius is characterized as chaste, temperate,
and of strict life, but vain and weak, a slave to restless suspicion, and
unrelenting in his enmity to those whom he suspected. His interference in the
affairs of the church was alike injudicious and unfortunate. Although, like his
father, he remained unbaptized until shortly before his death, he pretended to
the character of a theologian : his vanity and his ignorance laid him open to
the arts in which the leaders of Arianism were skilled; and throughout his
reign the empire was incessantly agitated by religious controversy. The highest
questions of Christian doctrine became subjects of common talk, and excited the
ignorant zeal of multitudes very imperfectly influenced by Christian principle.
The synods were so frequent, that the public posting establishment is said to
have been ruined by the continual journeyings of the bishops, to whom
the emperor gave the privilege of free conveyance to these assemblies.
Constantine had
steadily resisted both the importunity of the Arians, who wished that the see
of Alexandria should be filled by one of their own party, and the entreaties of
the Alexandrians for the restoration of the rightful bishop, although these
were supported by the authority of the famous hermit Antony, whom the emperor
admitted to a free correspondence with him. It is said, however, that on his
death-bed he gave orders for the recall of Athanasius and other banished
bishops. His successors, at a conference in Pannonia, agreed to restore the
exiles; and Athanasius, after an absence of about two years and four months,
returned to Alexandria, bearing with him a letter, in which the younger
Constantine assured the Alexandrian laity that the restoration was agreeable to
the late emperor's intention. The bishop was received with a joyful welcome by
his flock; but the Arian (or Eusebian party) soon renewed its attempts against
him. One Pistus, who had been associated with Arius,
was set up as a rival bishop. It was represented to Constantius that Athanasius
had caused disturbances of the peace; that he had sold the allowance of corn
which the emperor had bestowed on the Alexandrian church, and had
misappropriated the price; and, further, he was charged with irregularity in
resuming his see by the warrant of secular authority alone, whereas he had been
deposed by a council of bishops. The same charges, and the old report of
the inquiry instituted by his enemies in the Mareotis,
were carried to Rome by a deputation of Eusebian clergy, but were there met by
some emissaries of Athanasius, who were provided with a synodical letter from
nearly a hundred Egyptian bishops, attesting his merits and his innocence.
In the end of 340,
or in the beginning of the following year, a council met at Antioch for the
dedication of a splendid church which had been founded by Constantine. The
number of bishops is said to have been ninety-seven, of whom forty were
Eusebians. They passed a number of canons, which have been generally received
in the church; one of these, in itself unexceptionable, but framed with a
special design that it should become a weapon against Athanasius, enacted that,
if any bishop, after having been deposed by a council, should appeal to the
temporal power, instead of seeking redress from a higher council, he should
forfeit all hope of restoration. It would seem that after a time the Eusebians
became dominant in the assembly, either through the retirement of the orthodox
bishops, or through reliance on the support of Constantius, who was present.
They renewed the charges against Athanasius, condemned him under the canon just
mentioned, and, after the bishopric of Alexandria had been refused by Eusebius
(afterwards bishop of Emesa), consecrated to it a
Cappadocian named Gregory, a man of coarse and violent character. Gregory
immediately proceeded to take possession of his see, accompanied by a military
escort, under the command of Philagrius, prefect of
Egypt, who was an apostate from the faith. The heretical bishopentered the city in the beginning of Lent. Churches were attacked by the soldiers, with
a mob of Arians, Jews, and heathens; and horrible outrages and profanations
were committed, which reached their height on the solemn days of the Passion
and the Resurrection. The Catholics were not only ejected from the churches,
but were prevented from holding their worship in private houses. Having thus
settled matters in the capital, Gregory set forth on a visitation of his
province. A party of soldiers attended on him, and by his orders many bishops,
monks, and virgins were beaten—among them the aged Potammon,
who was treated with such severity that he died in consequence.
On the arrival of
Gregory at Alexandria, Athanasius withdrew to a retreat in the neighbourhood,
and after having issued an address to all bishops, desiring them to join in
condemnation of the intruder, he betook himself to Rome, where a synod of
fifty bishops pronounced him innocent, and confirmed to him the communion of
the church. Other expelled bishops also appeared before the same council; among
them was Marcellus of Ancyra, who had resumed his see on the death of
Constantine, and had been again dispossessed of it, but was now able to satisfy
Julius of Rome and his brethren that the charges of heresy on which he had been
deprived were founded on misapprehension. A correspondence followed between
Julius and the eastern bishops, but without any satisfactory result, as the
Eusebians, who had before proposed that the case of Athanasius should be
referred to a council, evaded the execution of their own proposal when they
found that the Alexandrian bishop had himself appeared at Rome.
The council of
Antioch produced four creeds. As the death of Arius had released his partisans
from the difficulties which arose out of their personal regard for him, they
now endeavoured to give plausibility to their cause by approaching as nearly as
possible to the orthodox statements, in the hope that by new formularies the
Nicene creed might gradually be obscured. In their attacks on Athanasius during
the reign of Constantine, they had been careful to advance charges which did
not relate to doctrines, but to practical matters; and the same policy of
avoiding the open statement of differences as to doctrine was now continued.
The creeds of Antioch were therefore so composed that in ordinary circumstances
they would have been received as satisfactory. The more offensive positions of
Arianism were distinctly condemned, and the council repudiated the name of
Arians,—“for how”, it was asked, “should we, who are bishops, follow a
presbyter?”. The dignity of the Saviour was set forth in the highest terms; the
studious omission of the word homoousios (co-essential)
was all that could excite suspicion as to the orthodoxy of the framers. Of
these formularies, the second (which claimed an older author, the martyr
Lucian) was that which afterwards became distinguished as the “Creed of the
Dedication”.
In the meantime
Constantinople had been the scene of repeated disturbances. Bishop Alexander,
on his death-bed, being consulted by some of his clergy as to a successor,
replied that, if they wished for a man “apt to teach”, and of holy life, they ought
to choose Paul; if they wanted a man of business and address, with an
appearance of piety, they should choose Macedonius,
who was a presbyter of long standing. Paul was elected, but was soon deprived
by the Arians on various charges of irregularity in his life and in the manner
of his appointment. After the death of Constantine he returned to his see, but
was compelled to make way for Eusebius, who was translated from Nicomedia;
and on his death, in 342, the ejected bishop and Macedonius were set up by the opposite parties. The city was thrown into violent
commotion, and Constantius sent a military force to suppress the disorder;
whereupon the populace set fire to the lodgings of the commander, Hermogenes,
dragged him about the streets, and murdered him. The emperor, in great
indignation, hastened to Constantinople, drove out Paul, and deprived the
citizens of half their allowance of corn; but, regarding Macedonius as a sharer in the cause of the tumult, and being also displeased with him for
having allowed himself to be consecrated without seeking the imperial
permission, he did not establish him as bishop. Paul soon after returned, but,
having allowed himself to be decoyed into an interview by Philip, the
praetorian prefect, he was seized and privately sent away by sea, while the
prefect proceeded to instal Macedonius. The populace
flocked together in excitement, and upwards of three thousand perished, either
through the pressure of the crowd, or by the weapons of the soldiery. From 342
to 380, with the exception of two years, the bishopric of the eastern capital
was in the hands of the Arians.
Alarmed by the
scenes which had taken place at Constantinople, and by similar tumults in other
places, Constantius agreed with Constans, who steadily adhered to the cause of
Athanasius, that a general council should be summoned. The place appointed for
its meeting was Sardica (now Sophia), in Illyria, a
city which stood on the borders of east and west, but within the western
division of the empire. Athanasius was desired by Constans to wait on him at
Milan, and, through the emperor's arrangement, proceeded to Sardica in company with Hosius.
About the same time a deputation of oriental bishops appeared at Milan—bearing
with them a new creed which had lately been drawn up by a council at Antioch.
This document, which from its length was styled macrostiche,
was in form rather an argument than a definition ; and like other late creeds
of the same party, it was sound in itself, but provoked suspicion by avoiding
the term co-essential. The western bishops were dissatisfied with
it, partly because their ignorance of Greek made them distrustful, and partly
from a wish to adhere to the Nicene creed as sufficient. At Sardica seventy-six eastern and about a hundred western
bishops attended, and Hosius presided over the
assembly—not as legate of the Roman see, but in right of his age, character,
and influence.
The orientals at the outset protested against the admission of
Athanasius, Marcellus, and other deposed bishops as members of the council. It
was answered that these bishops were not to be regarded as deposed, since the
latest decisions were in their favour; that they were ready to meet all
charges; and that the council might reopen the whole question from the
beginning. But the orientals adhered to their
objection, and, finding that it was firmly resisted, they withdrew across
the border of the empires to Philippopolis, in Thrace, where they held a
separate synod under the presidency of Stephen, bishop of Antioch. Two eastern bishops
remained at Sardica, while Ursacius of Singidunum (Belgrade), Valens of Mursa (Essek), and three other
Arians of the west, took part in the council of Philippopolis. The western
council declared the Nicene creed to be sufficient; the orientals drew up a fresh creed, more Arian than those of Antioch; and each assembly
passed a sentence of deposition against the most conspicuous members of the
other, while Julius of Rome was included amongst those with whom the orientals forbade all communion. The western bishops also
enacted a number of canons, and again pronounced Athanasius and Marcellus
innocent; but their judgment was not of itself enough to reinstate Athanasius
in his see, and he retired to Naissus, in Dacia.
The party which
enjoyed the favour of Constantius continued to occupy the sees of the east, and to exercise fresh violences against
the orthodox. After a time, however, the emperor changed his policy—partly in
consequence of a threat of war from Constans, who required the restoration of
Athanasius, partly through disgust at the detection of an infamous plot which
had been laid by Stephen, bishop of Antioch, against some envoys of the western
church; and he wrote thrice to Athanasius, inviting him to resume his see.
Athanasius complied with this invitation, and on his way visited Antioch, where
he had an interview with Constantius. The emperor begged him, as a favour, to
allow one church at Alexandria to those who were not of his communion, and the
bishop expressed his willingness to do so, on condition that the members of his
communion should receive a like indulgence at Antioch. But Constantius, on
conferring with the Arians who had suggested his proposal, found that they were
not disposed to make the exchange, as at Antioch orthodoxy was dangerously
strong among the laity, whereas at Alexandria both the temper of the people and
the abilities of the bishop forbade them to expect any great success.
Athanasius was
admitted to communion by a council at Jerusalem, and was recommended to his
flock by an imperial letter, which ordered that the record of former
proceedings against him should be cancelled. The intruder Gregory had died, or
had been killed, a short time before; and Athanasius, on his return to
Alexandria, was received with universal rejoicing. The thankfulness of his
people was shown in bountiful works of charity, and many persons of both sexes
embraced a monastic or ascetic life on the occasion.
His enemies felt
that their power was at an end. Ursacius and Valens,
the most noted supporters of Arianism in the west, went to Rome, and, with
a profession of regret for the part which they had been induced to take against
the bishop of Alexandria, entreated a council to receive them into communion.
But the hopes of the Arians were speedily revived by the murder of Constans,
although Constantius wrote to assure Athanasius that he should find from him
the same support as from his brother : and they renewed their machinations
against the Alexandrian bishop by attacking his adherents in other quarters.
This policy was favoured by the circumstance that some of their opponents had
lately run into serious errors. Marcellus of Ancyra was again deposed— having,
it would seem, developed his heterodoxy more distinctly. His pupil Photinus,
bishop of Sirmium, went so far as to teach palpable
Sabellianism: that there was no personal distinction in the Godhead; that the
Logos was nothing else than the Divine attribute of wisdom, which at length was
manifested in Jesus, whom he regarded as a mere man, although supernaturally
born; and that the Holy Ghost was only an influence. For these tenets Photinus
was repeatedly condemned, and in 351 he was deposed by a synod held in his
own city.
About the same
time many orthodox bishops were also ejected from their sees. Paul of
Constantinople, who had recovered his bishopric before or soon after the
council of Sardica, was again driven out, and was
carried off to Cucusus, a savage place in the lesser
Armenia, where, after having been for some time deprived of food, he was strangled. Macedonius was intruded into the see, and behaved
with such violence—branding, fining, banishing, and even putting to death,
those who were opposed to him, both in Constantinople and in other places to
which his power extended,—that the emperor himself found it necessary to
remonstrate with him. The Novatianists, who had
retained their orthodoxy as to the doctrines impugned by Arius, were exposed to
the same persecution with the Catholics; and when these were deprived of their
own churches, they resorted to the three which the Novatianists possessed within the city. But, although a temporary connection was thus
established by the community of suffering, the principles of the sect prevented
its permanent reconciliation with the church.
On the 8th of September
351 a great battle was fought between the troops of Constantius and Magnentius
near Mursa (now Essek), the
episcopal city of Valens. During the engagement, Constantius was praying in a
church, with the bishop at his side; and it is said that Valens, having
learnt the defeat of the enemy by means of a chain of scouts, announced it as
having been revealed to him by an angel. By this artifice, or by some other
means, Valens gained an influence over the emperor's mind, and he
diligently used it for the furtherance of the opinions which he had for a time
pretended to disown. Constantius was assailed with a multitude of charges
against Athanasius. He was persuaded that the bishop was proceeding
tyrannically in Egypt and Libya against all who would not submit to him. Much
was made of the fact that on his way to Alexandria, after his late exile, he
had conferred ordination in dioceses where the bishops were opposed to his
opinions. It was said that he had caused the death of the younger Constantine;
that he had exasperated Constans against Constantius; and—a charge which he
repelled with especial horror and indignation—that he had corresponded with the
murderer of Constans, the usurper Magnentius.
Liberius, who in April 352 succeeded
Julius as bishop of Rome, was immediately beset by complaints of the orientals against Athanasius; but a letter from an Egyptian
synod determined him to disregard them as unfounded. In the following year
(355), however, the power of the Alexandrian bishop's enemies was increased by
the final defeat of Magnentius, in consequence of which Constantius came into
undisputed possession of the west. Their object now was to procure a
condemnation of him from the western bishops, who, although sound in faith,
were for the most part liable to be imposed on through their ignorance of the
Greek theological subtleties, and through fear of their new sovereign, by whom
the matter was studiously represented as a personal question between himself
and a refractory bishop. A synod was held at Arles, where Liberius was represented by Vincent, bishop of Capua
(perhaps the same who, as a presbyter, had been one of the Roman legates at
Nicaea), and by another Campanian bishop.
The emperor
insisted on the condemnation of Athanasius, and Vincent, on proposing, by way
of compromise, that the opinions of Arius should at the same time be
anathematized, was told that these were not then in question. The legate at
length yielded and subscribed. Liberius, in deep
distress on account of his representative's compliance, requested the emperor
to call a free council for the investigation of the case; and the Eusebians,
although with very different objects, also pressed for the assembling of a
council. The petition thus urged from different quarters was granted, and in 355
about three hundred western bishops, with a few from the east, met at Milan.
The sessions of the council were held in the palace, and its deliberations were
overawed by Constantius and his soldiers. An edict of Arian purport was read,
the substance of which the emperor professed to have received by revelation;
and he dwelt on the success of his arms as a proof that the Divine blessing
rested on his opinions. The attempts of some orthodox bishops to obtain an
inquiry into the question of faith was met by Ursacius and Valens with a peremptory demand that they should join in the condemnation
of Athanasius and should communicate with the dominant party; and the sentence
was signed by all but three bishops, Eusebius of Vercelli, Lucifer of Cagliari,
and Dionysius of Milan. To the objection that the acts required of the orthodox
were unwarranted by the rules of the church, the emperor replied, “Whatever I
will, let that be esteemed a canon; for the bishops of Syria allow me to speak
so”. The three recusants were banished, many other bishops were sent into
exile, and their places were filled with intruders, whose heterodoxy was their
only qualification for the episcopate. A general persecution was carried on for
the purpose of enforcing conformity to the emperor’s will, while the orthodox
cried out that the days of Nero and of Decius had returned.
There were still
two important persons in the west to be gained by the victorious party—Liberius, conspicuous for his position, and Hosius, the “father of the bishops”, who had been a
confessor under Maximin, had sat in the council of Illiberis half a century before, and had been president of the council of Sardica,—perhaps even of the great council of Nicaea. After
some fruitless overtures had been made to Liberius,
the influential chief of the eunuchs, Eusebius, was sent to Rome, for the
purpose of tempting him by offers and by threats; and, as the bishop refused to
wait on Constantius, he was forcibly carried off from his city in the middle of
the night. On his arrival at Milan, he was admitted to several interviews with
the emperor, of whom he demanded that a council unrestrained by the imperial
influence should be summoned to investigate the case of Athanasius. Constantius
reproached him as being the only bishop who still adhered to the Egyptian
primate, whose removal the emperor professed to regard as more important to
himself than the victories which he had gained over Magnentius and other
pretenders to the throne. Liberius was firm; he
refused the offer of three days for consideration; and, on receiving sentence
of banishment to Beroea, in Thrace, he indignantly
rejected large sums of money which were sent to him by the emperor, the
empress, and the chief of the eunuchs, as contributions towards the expenses of
his journey. Hosius also withstood all attempts to
shake his constancy, and, after having been kept under restraint a year, was
banished to Sirmium. In the room of Liberius, the archdeacon Felix (who, however, is said by
some authorities to have been orthodox in faith) allowed himself to be
consecrated by three foreign bishops, the chief of whom was Acacius of Caesarea, in Palestine.
The Arians now
thought themselves strong enough to proceed to the ejection of Athanasius.
Several attempts were made to draw him away from his see by the use of the
emperor’s name; but he refused to attend to anything short of a warrant as
express as that which had authorized his restoration, or as the assurance of
protection which Constantius had voluntarily given him after the death of
Constans. As the emperor was reluctant to grant such a warrant (apparently out
of fear that it might provoke an insurrection of the Alexandrians and a
stoppage of the corn supplies on which Constantinople depended), another course
of proceeding was adopted. Syrian, general of Egypt, who was charged to effect
the removal of the bishop, (A.D. 356), lulled him and his flock into security
by promising to write to the emperor for distinct instructions, and about
three weeks later proceeded to execute his purpose. In the night of the
9th of February, 356, as Athanasius with many of the Alexandrians was preparing
for a celebration of the Eucharist by keeping vigil in the church of St. Theonas, the general, with 5000 soldiers and a mob of
Arians, surrounded the building. The bishop, hearing the none without, calmly
seated himself on his throne, and desired that the 136th Psalm should be
sung—the whole congregation joining in the response “For his mercy endureth for ever”. The soldiers forced the doors, and a
fearful confusion ensued. Many persons were trodden under foot, crushed to
death, or pierced with javelins; the consecrated virgins were stripped and
beaten; the soldiers pressed onwards to the choir, and Athanasius was urged to
save himself by flight. But he declared that he would not depart until his
people were safe, and, rising, desired them to join in prayer, and to withdraw
as quickly as possible. The bishop himself was determined to remain to the
last; but as the danger became more urgent, the clergy, when the greater part
of the congregation had escaped, closed round him, and carried him away,
exhausted and in a swoon. The soldiery and the mob continued their outrages,
and the ornaments of the church were plundered or defaced. The Catholics of
Alexandria addressed the emperor in a protest against the violence which had
been committed; but he replied by justifying Syrian, and ordering them to
discover and give up Athanasius.
In the beginning
of Lent, a new Arian bishop, named George, a Cappadocian, like his Arian
predecessor Gregory, arrived at Alexandria. This intruder, although he was
recommended in extravagant terms by imperial letters, is described by the
catholic writers as a man who had behaved discreditably in low secular
employments; rude, illiterate, and disdaining even to put on an outward show of
piety. The reproach of gross ignorance is hardly consistent with the fact of
his possessing a library so rich both in Christian and in heathen literature,
that after his death it excited the interest of the emperor Julian; but the
other charges are confirmed by the testimony of the pagan Ammianus Marcellinus;
indeed George, by his exactions, became no less odious to the pagans than he
was to the orthodox. Supported by the civil power, he raged against the Catholics
of every class—bishops, clergy, monks, virgins, and laity—plundering,
scourging, mutilating, banishing, and committing to the mines. Some bishops
died in consequence of the cruelties which were inflicted on them. One
renegade, who joined the usurper’s party, submitted to re-ordination. After a
time George was driven out by his people, and took refuge with the emperor; but
he returned with ampler powers, and made himself more detested than ever.
The aged Hosius, worn out by exile, imprisonment, privation, and
even torture, at length gave way, and in 357 subscribed at Sirmium a heterodox creed, of which it was even pretended that he was the author; but
he did not, apparently, sign the condemnation of Athanasius. By this submission
he recovered his see; and he died shortly after at the age of a hundred or
upwards. Athanasius, who speaks of him with tenderness and pity, states that on
his death-bed he protested against the violence to which he had been subjected,
and abjured the errors to which he had yielded a forced assent.
The fall of Hosius was speedily followed by that of Liberius.
In April 357, Constantius visited Rome, where no emperor had been seen since
326. A number of ladies of rank, after having in vain endeavoured to persuade
their husbands to undertake the office of intercession, waited on him with a
petition for the recall of Liberius. Constantius
answered that the bishop might return if he could agree with his brethren of
the court party, and proposed that he and Felix should jointly govern the
church. This compromise, on being announced in the circus, was received with a
derisive cry, that it would suit well with the
factions into which the frequenters of that place were divided—that each of the
colours might have a bishop for its head; and the whole assembly burst into a
shout, “One God, one Christ, one bishop”. But in the following winter Liberius, weary of his Thracian exile, entreated in abject
terms that he might be recalled. He professed to concur heartily with Ursacius, Valens, and their oriental partisans; he appeared
even greedy of humiliation in disavowing his former opinions; and, after
subscribing an Arian or Semiarian creed, he was
allowed to return to Rome. Felix was expelled, not without bloodshed
between the parties of the rival bishops, according to some accounts; and the
remaining eight years of his life were spent in peaceful obscurity.
Arianism appeared
to be everywhere triumphant; but in this time of triumph internal differences,
which had hitherto been concealed, began to show themselves openly.
It had been the
policy of the Arians or Eusebians to veil their heresy by abstaining from any
distinct declaration on the most critical points, and putting forth professions
which in themselves were sound, although short of the full catholic
belief. And now an unexpected result of this system appeared: the formulas
which had been intended speciously to cover the heterodoxy of their framers had
in the course of years trained up a party which honestly held them, without the
errors which the more advanced Arians had been careful to keep in reserve. The Semiarians or homoiousians (as
they are styled) believed that the Son was “like in all things” to the
Father; that his essence was like that of the Father—differing from it only in
not being identical with it; that he was truly a Son, begotten beyond time and
before all worlds. Eusebius of Caesarea was the precursor of Semiarianism; but its appearance as the distinctive
doctrine of a party did not take place until long after his death. There was
much of personal respectability and of piety among the Semiarians.
Athanasius and Hilary speak of them as brethren—being willing to believe that
they were not really heterodox, but only scrupled at the use of the word
“co-essential”, as apparently savouring of Sabellianism, and as having been
condemned in Paul of Samosata. To this party—of which Basil of Ancyra and
George of Laodicea were the leaders—the majority of the eastern bishops now
belonged.
On the other hand,
Arianism for the first time came forth without disguise in the doctrines of
Aetius and his pupil Eunomius. The former, a man of
very low origin, who in early life had been a goldsmith, was ordained deacon by Leontius of Antioch, and was afterwards deposed by
him. Aetius is described as notorious for his disputatious character. His early
education had been scanty; but at a later time he acquired from a philosopher
of Alexandria a knowledge of geometry and dialectics, and, without having any
proper acquaintance with ecclesiastical learning, he insisted on applying the
rules of these sciences as the measure of religious truth.
Aetius
unflinchingly carried out the principles of Arianism to their conclusions, so
as to offend and annoy the more cautious of its professors, who spoke of him as
“the godless”. He maintained that the Son, as being a creature, was necessarily
unlike the Father, not only in substance but in will; and from this tenet his
party got the name of anomoeans. Eunomius, who attained to the bishopric of Cyzicum, went still further in the same direction. Although
he professed to refer to Scripture, his system was not founded on it, but was
merely a work of reasoning. It was purely intellectual, excluding all reference
to the affections. He discarded the idea of mystery in religion; he held that
God knows no more of his own nature than man may know of it; that the Son
resembles the Father in nothing but his working; that the Holy Spirit was
created by the Son. He denied all sacramental influences, and—unlike Arius, who
was himself a man of rigid life—he opposed everything like asceticism.
Between the Anomoeans and the Semiarians stood the crafty, secular, and unscrupulous party which was now called after Acacius, the successor of Eusebius in the see of Caesarea.
Agreeing in principles with the anomoeans, they by
turns favoured them when it was safe, and disavowed them when it would have
been inconvenient to show them countenance; and for a time they endeavoured to
conceal the difference between themselves and the Semiarians as to the essence (ousia) of the Son by
proscribing the term as unscriptural, and as having been the source of trouble
to the church. The emperor's own opinions were Semiarian;
but the policy of Acacius and the personal influence
of Valens counterbalanced his doctrinal convictions.
Leontius, who had been appointed
bishop of Antioch on the deprivation of Stephen in 349, and had endeavoured to
preserve peace in his church by an equivocating policy, died in the end of 357.
On being informed of his death, Eudoxius, bishop of Germanicia, who was in attendance on the emperor in the
west, requested leave to go into Syria under false pretences, and got
possession of the vacant see. The favour which the new bishop openly showed to
Aetius provoked the Semiarians to hold a council at
Ancyra, where they condemned the anomoean doctrine
and the second creed of Sirmium; and their decisions
were ratified by the emperor, who, at their desire, resolved to summon a
general council for the final settlement of the questions which had so long
distracted the church. On this the Acacians took the alarm, and, fearing that
both catholics and Semiarians might unite to condemn them, they fell on the expedient of dividing the
council, in the hope that they might be able to manage its separate portions.
Their arguments as to the difficulties and the expense of bringing bishops from
all parts of his dominions to one place were successful with Constantius. It
was resolved that the western branch of the church should be cited to Rimini,
and the eastern to Nicaea; and that ten deputies from each division should
afterwards meet in the presence of the emperor.
About four hundred
and fifty bishops assembled at Rimini in May 359, under the presidency (as is
supposed) of Restitutus, bishop of Carthage. A creed,
drawn up by some Acacians and Semiarians at a
previous meeting, and known as the Third Creed of Sirmium,
was offered to the council by Valens and Ursacius. It
proscribed the term essence as unscriptural and liable to misapprehension, and
declared the Son to be “like the Father in all things, as the Holy Scriptures
say and teach”. The Acacians hoped that the catholics would be drawn to subscribe by taking these words according to their most
obvious sense, while for themselves they interpreted them as meaning like
in all things to which Scripture extends the likeness; but the bishops,
although for the most part unskilled in theological subtleties, were animated
by a strong distrust of the party, and declared that the Nicene creed was
sufficient. Ursacius, Valens, and four others were
excommunicated for refusing to sign it; and deputies of each party were
sent off to the emperor, with a request that no innovation on the faith might
be attempted, and that the members of the council might be allowed to return to
their homes. Constantius, who was on the point of setting out for the seat of
the Persian war, deferred seeing the envoys until his return, on the ground
that his mind was so occupied by political business as to be unfit for the due
consideration of Divine things. During his absence, the representatives of the
council, who were detained at Nice in Thrace, were practised on by his
courtiers; and thus after a time they were drawn into signing the same creed
which had been offered for acceptance at Rimini, but rendered more
objectionable by the omission of the words “in all things”. In the meantime,
their brethren who had remained at Rimini were sedulously plied with arguments
from the emperor's character and intentions, from the desirableness of peace,
the inexpediency of contending about (as was said) a mere question of words,
the hopelessness of bringing the orientals to adopt
the term co-essential. Valens, by way of dissipating their
suspicions, uttered anathemas which seemed to be altogether irreconcilable with
Arianism; and at length, pressed by solicitations, desirous to return to their
homes before winter, and deluded as to the meaning of their act, they also
subscribed the formula which was presented to them. “The whole world” says St
Jerome, “groaned, and was astonished to find itself Arian”. On returning to
their dioceses, the bishops began to understand the import of their submission.
Many of them then repudiated the creed which they had signed, and wrote letters
of sympathy to Athanasius.
The place of the
eastern council's meeting had been transferred from Nicaea to Nicomedia; but in
consequence of an earthquake, by which that city was reduced to ruins, a
further change became necessary, and Seleucia, the capital of Isauria, was eventually fixed on. The whole number of
bishops who attended was about a hundred and sixty, of whom a hundred and five
were Semiarians, thirty-five Acacians, and the rest
orthodox. The last of these parties was composed of Egyptians, together with
Hilary, bishop of Poitiers, one of the most powerful champions of the catholic
faith, who had been banished into Phrygia in the year 356, and was now summoned
to take part in the deliberations of his eastern brethren. The Acacians,
finding themselves outnumbered, attempted under various pretences to break up
the assembly; and the dissensions which arose were so violent that the imperial
commissary, Leonas, found himself obliged to dissolve
it. The majority signed the creed of the dedication; the Acacians condemned
both homoousion (of the same essence) and homoiousion (of like essence) as inexpedient,
and anathematized the term anomoion (unlike).
Both Semiarians and Acacians sent off deputies to the
court; and, although Constantius agreed in opinion with the Semi-arians, and the council had been convened for the purpose
of establishing their ascendency, the Acacians, by contriving to be the first
to reach him, succeeded in winning his ear. A council was held at
Constantinople in the emperor's presence, where each party preferred charges against
its opponents. Aetius was deposed from the diaconate, being given up by the
Acacians as a scapegoat, while, on the other hand, Basil of Ancyra and other Semiarians were deposed and banished as insubordinate. It
was ordered that the creed of Rimini should be signed everywhere, and all who
refused compliance were treated with severity.
Macedonius, bishop of
Constantinople, had rendered himself obnoxious to the Acacian party by showing
an inclination towards the Semiarians. It was
therefore resolved to get rid of him; and in order to his removal, advantage
was taken of the emperor's displeasure, which had been justly excited by the
bishop's violent proceedings, and was now swelled by a fresh offence. As the
church in which the body of the great Constantine had been deposited—hastily
and unsubstantially erected, like the buildings of
the new capital in general—was already likely to fall, Macedonius removed the coffin to another church; and Constantius was irritated, both by
his presuming to take such a step without the imperial permission, and because
the factions of Constantinople had made the removal the occasion for a serious
disturbances The bishop was therefore deposed on various charges of misconduct
(for the Acacians, out of fear lest the emperor's sympathy should be
excited, were careful to avoid the question of doctrine in their proceedings
against the Semiarians); and Eudoxius of Antioch was appointed his successor, while the bishopric of Antioch was
bestowed by a council on Meletius, formerly bishop of Sebaste, a man of high reputation who had until then
been reckoned among the Arian party. Meletius, it is
said, on taking possession of his new see, at first confined his preaching to
practical subjects; but when he had thus gained some hold on his flock, he
began openly to teach the Nicene doctrine. For this the council, which was
still sitting, deposed and banished him within thirty days after his
installation, and in his room appointed Euzoius,
formerly a deacon of Alexandria, who had been the associate of Arius in the
early stages of the heresy. Ever since the deprivation of Eustathius,
an orthodox party had been kept up within the church of Antioch,
notwithstanding the Arianism of the bishops. This party now formed a separate
communion, which regarded Meletius as its head; but
the old Eustathians, who had throughout stood aloof,
refused to communicate with them, on the ground that Meletius had received his appointment from Arians, and that his followers had been
baptized into heresy
The council of
Antioch set forth an undisguisedly anomoean creed,
declaring the Son to have been created out of nothing, and to be unlike
the Father both in substance and in will. St. Athanasius reckons this as the
eleventh creed to which the variations of Arianism had given birth : Tillemont makes it the eighteenth. Amidst such a continual
manufacture of new standards of doctrine, it was no wonder that the heathens
derided the Christians as having still to learn in what their faith consisted.
The reign of
Constantius was now near its end. The Caesar Julian had been proclaimed
Augustus by his troops in Gaul, and had advanced far towards the eastern
capital. Constantius set out to meet him, but was arrested by illness at Mopsucrenae, in Cilicia, where he died on the 3rd of
November 361, at the age of forty-four, and in the twenty-fifth year of his
reign. A short time before his death, but whether at Antioch or at Mopsucrenae is uncertain, he was baptized by the Arian
bishop of Antioch.
CHAPTER III.
JULIAN
A.D. 361-363.
Immediately after
the death of the great Constantine, the soldiery at Constantinople committed a
massacre among the princes of his house. With the exception of his three
sons—of whom two were at a distance, while Constantius was even supposed
to have instigated the murderers—the only survivors of the imperial family were
two children of the late emperor’s half-brother, Julius Constantius, who
himself had been one of the victims. Gallus was spared because his sickly
constitution seemed to preclude the apprehension of future danger from him; his
half-brother Julian, who was only six years of age, is said to have been saved
and concealed in a church by Mark, bishop of Arethusa.
The early
education of these brothers was superintended by Eusebius of Nicomedia, who was
distantly related to the younger prince’s mother. When Julian had reached the
age of fifteen, they were removed to Macellae,
near Caesarea, in Cappadocia. They lived in the palace of the old Cappadocian
kings, and were treated in a manner suitable to their rank, yet were kept in a
seclusion which had the nature of imprisonment. They were trained in a strict
routine of religious observances; they were even admitted into the order of
readers, and officiated in the service of the church. After five years had been
thus spent by the young princes, the attention of Constantius was especially
directed to them by the circumstance that the murder of Constans had left them
the only male heirs of the imperial family. Gallus was appointed
Caesar, was married to a widowed daughter of the great Constantine, and
was established at Antioch, while his brother was allowed to study at
Constantinople. But as the popularity which Julian gained there excited the
emperor’s jealousy, he was soon ordered to Nicomedia, where he endeavoured to
disarm the suspicions of Constantius by shaving his head and living like a
monk. In the end of the year 354, Gallus, who had displayed both violence and
incapacity in his new elevation, was removed from his government, and was put to
death by order of Constantius. At the same time Julian was summoned from Ionia
to the court at Milan, where he was detained in a state of suspense for seven
months; but at length, through the influence of the empress Eusebia, who
steadily befriended him, he obtained leave to attend the schools of Athens.
The Persians on
the east, and the barbarian nations on the north, obliged Constantine to seek
for assistance in the government of the empire. Julian was therefore declared
Caesar in November 355. He received in marriage the hand of the emperor’s
sister Helena, and at the suggestion of Eusebia, who represented him as a
harmless, studious youth, who would either bring credit to the emperor by
success, or would deliver him from uneasiness by meeting with death, he was
sent to undertake the government of Gaul. Although his life had hitherto been
that of a student, he soon distinguished himself by his ability both in war and
in civil administration But his relations with Constantius were of no friendly
kind : the emperor openly decried and ridiculed him, thwarted and crippled him
in his administration, and assumed the credit of his victories. The army
murmured because its commander was not furnished with the means of bestowing
the usual donatives; and this discontent was at length swollen to a height by
an order which Julian received when in winter-quarters at Paris, in April 360.
On being informed that their general was required to despatch the strength of
his troops to the Persian frontier, the soldiers rose in mutiny; and,
notwithstanding a show of resistance to their wishes, which was perhaps not
wholly sincere, the Caesar was hailed as Augustus, was raised aloft on a
buckler, and was crowned with a circlet formed of the chain by which the
standard-bearers of the legions were distinguished. Eusebia and Helena, whose
mediation might have prevented a breach between the imperial kinsmen, were both
lately dead. Julian’s proposals for a division of the empire were scornfully
rejected; and, after some fruitless negotiation, he resolved to march against
Constantius. Carrying out a brilliant conception with an energy which triumphed
over all difficulties, he penetrated through the Black Forest to the Danube,
embarked his army on the great river, and landed at a point within a few miles
of Sirmium. He had already become master of almost
all the west, when the death of Constantius saved the empire from the miseries
of a civil war.
The policy of
Constantius towards paganism had been, on the whole, a continuation of his
father’s. Laws are found which forbid sacrifice and idolatry even on pain
of death; and under Julian the pagan orators complained of severities exercised
against their religion in the late reign. It is, however, certain that the more
rigorous laws, even if they were actually published at the time, were not
generally acted on. Paganism was still largely cherished, especially among the
aristocracy of the older capital, among the philosophical and literary class,
and among the peasantry. Its rites appear to have been freely practised, even
by persons in authority. The first Christian emperor was, like his
predecessors, enrolled among the gods. Constantius retained the style of
Pontifex Maximus; on his visit to Rome in 357, he showed respect to the old
religion, and even made appointments to priestly offices; and although he was
unremitting in his hostility to the arts of astrology and divination, it was on
account of their dangerous political character. Some temples were given up for
Christian purposes, or were bestowed on favourites of the court; but there
were enactments against destroying temples and defacing heathen monuments. The
doctrinal controversies of the time diverted the attention of the Christians
from paganism, while they also rendered each party unwilling to provoke the
multitude which was without the church.0It was in vain that some of the
more intemperate Christian writers among whom Firmicus Maternus is the most noted, attempted to urge the
government to more vigorous measures for the suppression of idolatry.
Before setting out
on his expedition, Julian, although he still kept up the outward appearance of
Christianity, placed himself under the guardianship of the "Immortal
Gods", and propitiated them with copious sacrifices. Even after having
advanced as far as Vienne, he celebrated the festival of the Epiphany; but
before reaching Thrace, he threw off all disguise, and openly professed himself
a pagan. It is not difficult to understand the motives of this defection, on
account of which the epithet apostate has become the usual accompaniment of his
name. His Christian training, with its formal and constrained devotion, had
been so conducted that it could hardly have failed to alienate a mind like
his—quick, curious, restless, and vain. His desire of knowledge had been
thwarted in its direction; in his earlier years he had been forbidden to seek
instruction from those heathens who were most celebrated as professors of
rhetoric and the prohibition had lent a charm to their opinions. Filled with an
enthusiastic admiration for the heroes and sages of heathenism, he was unable
to understand the dignity of Christian meekness and endurance; and, moreover,
he had come to estimate the system in which he had been educated by the
imperfections of those around him, while heathenism appeared to him in ideal
brightness, as embodied in the lives of its worthies—as connected
with literature, philosophy, and art. The eyes of the pagans had early
been fixed on him as the hope of their religion. He was courted by philosophers
and rhetoricians, and in all his changes of residence he was handed over by one
of them to another. These teachers not only entangled his mind in their
speculations, but practised on it by the proscribed arts of theurgy and
divination, flattering him with the idea of one day becoming master of the
empire. At Ephesus, in his twentieth year, he was formally initiated into
paganism by Maximus, a philosopher who had gained a powerful influence over
him; and during his stay at Athens he was admitted to the Eleusinian mysteries.
But the secret of his apostasy was carefully kept until his assumption of the
imperial title rendered a longer hypocrisy needless.
Julian arrived at
Constantinople on the 11th of December 361, and left it in the middle of the
following May. He reached Antioch in the end of June 362, and remained there
until March 5, 363, when he set out on his fatal expedition into Persia. Thus
the greater part of his short reign was spent in two cities especially
unfavourable to his religion; for Constantinople had never until this time been
polluted by public sacrifice, and at Antioch—although the inhabitants were too
commonly licentious, luxurious, and passionately fond of frivolous
diversions—Christianity was generally professed, so that there were only a few
aged people who looked back with regret to the days when paganism had been the
national creed. The utter decay of the old religion in the Syrian capital may
in some measure be estimated from a story which is told by the emperor
himself—that when, after having restored the temple of Daphne, near the city,
he repaired to it on the day of a great local festival, he found, instead of
the splendid ceremonial and the crowd of worshippers which he had expected,
that only a single old priest was in attendance, with no better sacrifice than
a goose, which the poor man had been obliged to provide at his own cost.
Julian's paganism
was very unlike the old political religion of Rome; it was eclectic,
philosophical, enthusiastic, and more akin to Gnosticism than even to the
theology of the ancient Greeks. He believed in one supreme God, whom he
identified with the Mithra or sun-god of oriental worship. Under this deity he
acknowledged others— the tutelaries of nations,
sciences, and the like. He believed the world to be eternal, and from the
diversity of national character he argued against the common origin of mankind.
The worship of images was defended by him on philosophical grounds, very remote
from the popular belief. The convert’s zeal for the old religion far outstripped
that of its hereditary professors. A pagan historian of the time describes him
as rather superstitious than properly religious; and his heathen subjects in
general looked with surprise and disrespect on the profusion of his costly
sacrifices, and on the share which he himself took in them—performing even the
coarsest and most repulsive functions. In other respects, too, his vanity
displayed itself in an ostentatious disregard of the form and dignity
which are usually associated with sovereign power. In his appearance and habits
he affected a cynical roughness, which drew on him the satire of the wits of
Antioch; and he condescended to reply to their jests and ballads by a book in
defence of his beard. He reformed the luxury of the court with an unwise and
precipitate severity; he disbanded the host of eunuchs and parasites who had
been attached to it during the late reign, and replaced them by philosophers
and professors of divination, many of whom proved unable to bear with
equanimity the honours and employments which were bestowed on them.
The religious
policy of the last two reigns was now reversed. The immunities and endowments
which had been bestowed on the clergy were transferred to the heathen
priesthood; but whereas Constantine, in restoring church-property to the
rightful owners after the persecution, had indemnified the existing holders at
the expense of the state, Julian ordered that Christians who had been concerned
in the destruction of temples should rebuild them at their own cost, and that
money received from property which had formerly belonged to the pagan
religious establishment should be refunded. Even if the means of such
restitution had been in their hands, the restoration of temples (which would in
many cases have involved the demolition of churches erected on their sites) was
intolerable to the consciences of the Christians; and in consequence of the
edict many of the clergy were subjected to tortures, imprisonment, and death.
The case of Mark, bishop of Arethusa, is especially noted. “The magistrates”,
says Gibbon, “required the full value of a temple which had been destroyed; but
as they were satisfied of his poverty, they desired only to bend his inflexible
spirit to the promise of the slightest compensation. They apprehended the aged
prelate, they inhumanly scourged him, they tore his beard; and his naked body,
anointed with honey, was suspended between heaven and earth, and exposed to the
stings of insects and the rays of a Syrian sun. From this lofty station Mark
still persisted to glory in his crime, and to insult the impotent rage of his
persecutors. He was at length rescued from their hands; Julian spared his life;
but if the bishop of Arethusa had saved the infancy of Julian, posterity will
condemn the ingratitude, instead of praising the clemency of the emperor”.
Julian knew from
the experience of former times that the employment of force against
Christianity, far from suppressing it, had tended to its advancement. He was
unwilling to excite the zeal of the Christians by the opportunity of martyrdom;
he was unwilling to sully his own reputation by harsh measure; he wished to
gain credit by a display of toleration which might contrast with the
persecutions of Constantius. The stories of martyrdoms which are referred to
this reign are probably for the most part fabulous; and although much of
oppression and outrage was committed against the Christians, it does not appear
that the emperor was directly concerned in such acts. It is, too, very evident
that the Christians sometimes provoked the ruling party by needlessly offensive
conduct, and that their complaints are not always free from exaggeration. But
although Julian declared that argument and persuasion were the only means to be
employed for the furtherance of his opinions, he allowed proceedings of a very
different kind. He refused justice to the Christians with a shameless
partiality, and made the refusal offensive by sarcasm. Thus when the Arian
bishop George was murdered by the pagans of Alexandria, he took no further notice
of the deed than by very slightly reproving them. In consequence of a
disturbance between the orthodox and the Valentinians of Edessa, he seized on
the property of the Edessan church, and distributed it among his
soldiers—telling the Christians that their wealth would no longer be a
hindrance to their attaining the kingdom of heaven. When Christians appealed to
him against the illegal violence of governors or of mobs, he reminded them that
their religion enjoined on them the duty of patience under wrong. He deprived
them of civil and military employments, and excluded them from the courts of
law; and he alleged as his reason that the gospel forbids worldly ambition,
bloodshed, and litigation. Although he professed to consider the devotion of
the heart essential in religion, he used artifices to entrap his Christian
subjects into outward, and even unconscious, acts of homage to the gods; thus
he surrounded his own picture with heathen figures and emblems, so that the
usual obeisance to it should involve an appearance of idolatry. In like manner,
on the occasion of a donative, he required his soldiers to cast a few grains of
incense into the fire—representing this as merely an ancient custom,
without any explanation of the import which he attached to it as an act of
worship.
By a strange
exercise of tyranny, Julian issued an edict that no “Galilean”—for thus he
required by law that the Christians should be styled—should become a teacher of
classical literature. By way of giving a reason for this order, he declared
that the Greek language belonged to his own party, and denounced the immorality
and covetousness of persons who taught a system which they themselves did not
believe; but, as it seems incredible that the emperor could have seriously
confounded the religion with the literature of Greece, other motives have been
conjectured—such as jealousy of the eminence which some Christian rhetoricians
had acquired, and a wish to deprive the Christians of the controversial
advantages which they might derive from an acquaintance with the absurdities of
the pagan mythology. It has been said that he went so far as to prohibit
“Galileans” even to attend the public schools, or to study the classical
writers—overlooking the Divine element of the gospel, ascribing its success to
human culture, and thinking to defeat it by reducing its professors to the
condition of an illiterate sect. This, however, appears to be a mistake, except
in so far as the law against teaching must also have operated as a bar to
learning; for many of those who in other times would have resorted to pagan
masters for instruction in secular studies, must have felt themselves excluded
from their schools, now that an attack was made on the Christian teachers,
and that classical learning was to be used as a temptation to apostasy.
But in order that the benefits of classical study should not be wholly lost to
Christian youth, Apollinarius of Laodicea and others
are said to have provided an ingenious substitute for the forbidden textbooks
by clothing the Scripture history in the forms of Greek composition—such as
epic poetry, drama, and Platonic dialogue.
While the emperor
thus in many ways exerted himself against the gospel, he yet paid it the
remarkable tribute of attempting to reform paganism by borrowing from Christian
institutions. He pointed to the Christians as distinguished by their obedience
to the rules of their religion. He admonished the heathen priests to adopt a
stricter life than that which had been usual among their class—charging them to
abstain from secular business and amusements; to be charitable to the poor; to
take care that their wives and families should not be Christians; to be
diligent in study, and to abstain from the perusal of unedifying books. He
attempted to imitate the system of episcopal superintendence and that of
commendatory letters, the monastic orders, the penitential discipline, the
arrangement of churches, the liturgy, the hours of prayer, the expositions of
religious doctrine by preaching, the care of the poor and distressed, of the
sick and of the dead.
The edict of
Hadrian, which forbade the Jews to approach their holy city, was still in
force; and the legislation of Constantine and his son had pressed severely upon
them. Julian was favourably disposed towards their religion; he respected it as
an ancient national faith, although he considered it to be wrong in
representing its God as the only deity; and the Mosaic sacrifices accorded with
his ideas as to outward worship. It is said that he summoned some of the most
eminent Jews into his presence, and asked why they did not offer sacrifices
according to their lawgiver’s command. On their answering that it was not
lawful to sacrifice except in the temple of Jerusalem, of which they had been
long deprived, the emperor gave them leave to rebuild the temple, and appointed
one of his own officers to superintend the work. The dispersed Jews assembled
from all quarters, in eagerness to forward the undertaking by their labour and
their hoarded wealth. Women gave their ornaments towards the cost, and
themselves carried burdens of earth in their silken dresses; even tools of
silver are said to have been used in the work. The long-depressed people were
loud in proclaiming their expectations of a triumphant restoration, when the
attempt was terribly defeated. The newly-laid foundations were overthrown by an
earthquake; balls of fire burst forth from the ground, scorching and killing
many of the workmen; their tools were melted by lightning; and it is added by
some writers that the figure of a cross surrounded by a circle appeared in the
sky, and that garments and bodies were marked with crosses, which it was
impossible to efface. The truth of some of these phenomena is attested by the
heathen Ammianus Marcellinus, as well as by Christian writers, and the story,
in its essential parts, is broadly distinguishable in character from the tales
of contemporary miracles in general. As the rebuilding was avowedly undertaken
in defiance ot the Christian religion—as its success
would have falsified the evidence borne to the gospel by those words of
Scripture which had declared that Judaism was passed away, and that the temple
should be desolate—we may reverently believe that the occasion was one on which
some special exertion of the Divine power might probably be put forth. It will,
however, remain a question how much of the story ought to be regarded as
fabulous embellishment; how far the occurrences which produced the impression
of miracle may have been the result of ordinary physical causes, and how far
there was a mixture of that which is more properly to be styled miraculous.
Julian spent the
long winter evenings of 362-3 in composing an elaborate attack on Christianity,
which he continued and finished after setting out on his expedition into
Persia. He had intended, on his return, to resume the building of the Jewish
temple. What his policy might have been in other respects, if his life had been
prolonged, can only be conjectured; but, as his enmity against the Christians
had evidently increased, it is probable that the course which he had hitherto
pursued with so little success would have been exchanged for a system of
undisguised persecution. His death, in consequence of a wound received in a
nocturnal skirmish, was hailed by the Christians with joy. Prophecies and
visions of his end had before been current among them. By some it was supposed
that he had received his death-wound from an angel. Sozomen,
in reporting the groundless insinuation of Libanius,
that it was inflicted not by a Persian but by a Christian, so far forgets his
own Christianity as to argue that such an act may be laudably done for the
cause of God and religion.
We now turn to the
internal history of the church. Julian on his accession recalled all who had
been banished on account of religion. In this measure his object was twofold—to
gain the praise of liberality, and at the same time to damage the Christian
cause by giving free scope to the dissensions of the various parties. But in
the latter hope he was disappointed. The Arians, when deprived of the imperial
support, lost all spirit and vigour; and the common danger from the ascendency
of paganism moderated the controversies which had raged so long and so
fiercely.
Athanasius, when
expelled from Alexandria in 356, had withdrawn into the deserts of Egypt. Among
his faithful partisans, the monks, he found a refuge which enabled him to
defy the enmity of Constantius, who attempted to arrest him, and exerted
himself to prevent his reception in Ethiopia if he should flee into that newly-converted
country. During an exile of six years, the bishop kept a watchful eye on all
the fortunes of the church, and by seasonable writings combated the heresy
which had driven him from his see. On receiving the tidings that Constantius
was dead, the heathen populace of Alexandria murdered the intrusive bishop,
George, who had made himself even more hateful to them than to the Catholics.
Athanasius, on returning to resume his see, was received with triumphal pomp
and festivity. The churches were at once surrendered to him, so that the
Arians, who had set up one Lucius as their bishop, could only meet in private
houses. Athanasius proceeded to assemble a council, which Lucifer of Cagliari
and Eusebius of Vercelli, who had been released from banishment in the Thebaid, were invited to attend. Eusebius appeared, and the
Sardinian bishop was represented by two of his deacons, while he himself
repaired to Antioch, with a view of attempting to suppress the schism by which
the church of that city had long been distracted.
The case of the
clergy who had conformed to Arianism in the late reign was decided with that
wise consideration for persons which in Athanasius always accompanied his zeal
for the truth. It was enacted that those who had erred through simplicity or
ignorance should be allowed to retain their positions on subscribing
the Nicene creed; and that such as had taken a more active part on the
Arian side should, on repentance, be admitted to communion, but should be
deprived of ecclesiastical office.
Another question
which engaged the attention of the council, related to the use of certain
theological terms. The words ousia and hypostasis had
in the beginning of the controversy been used by the orientals as equivalent; both had been translated in Latin by substantia, and
had been understood by the Latins as signifying the nature of
God. But in course of time a distinction had been introduced in the east, so
that, while ousia continued
to denote nature, hypostasis was used in the sense
which we are accustomed to express by the term person; and this
distinction was especially characteristic of such theologians as had come out
of the Arian connection to embrace the Nicene faith. The Latins, then, hearing
that three hypostases were maintained by some of the orientals,
took alarm, as if the words signified three different grades of nature; while
the other party insisted on the necessity of using the term hypostasis in
the new sense—considering that the use of the Greek prosopon, which
answered to the Latin persona, savoured of Sabellianism, as
expressing rather three manifestations of the one Godhead than that
distinction which is asserted in the catholic doctrine. The council, under the
guidance of Athanasius, who during his residence in the west had become acquainted
with the meaning of Latin theological language, endeavoured to settle this
dispute by ascertaining and explaining that the difference as to one or three
hypostases was merely verbal; and by recommending that the Nicene creed should
be adhered to, and that the terms in question should be avoided, except when
opposition to particular heresies might render it necessary to use them.
Eusebius and
others proceeded from Alexandria to Antioch with a commission to mediate in the
healing of the schism. But in the meantime Lucifer had rashly taken a step
which tended to exasperate and prolong it, by consecrating Paulinus, a
presbyter of the Eustathian party, in opposition to Meletius, who had just returned from exile. Thus Antioch
had three rival bishops—the Arian Euzoius, with the
orthodox Meletius and Paulinus; and to these a
fourth, of the Apollinarian sect, was soon after added. In such circumstances
it was impossible to enforce any ecclesiastical discipline, since offenders, if
threatened with censure in one communion, found the others ready to welcome
them as proselytes; and in the meanwhile the wide patriarchal jurisdiction of
Antioch, with the authority which belonged to the third of Christian sees in
the general affairs of the church, was in abeyance.
Eusebius mildly
expressed his regret at the ordination of Paulinus, and forthwith quitted
Antioch. But the vehement Lucifer disavowed the act of his representatives who
had signed the Alexandrian decrees; he broke oft communion with all bishops who
should accept those decrees, and, after returning to his own diocese in
Sardinia, he founded a schism, on the principle that no one who had subscribed
the creed of Rimini should be admitted to reconciliation. This sect, which is
not charged with any heretical doctrines, found a considerable number of
adherents in Italy and Spain. It even set up a bishop at Rome; but Luciferianism became extinct in the beginning of the
following century, if not earlier.
The schism of
Antioch continued. Meletius was supported by the
eastern orthodox; Paulinus by Egypt and the west; and, notwithstanding the
exertions of the Alexandrian council, the difference of usage as to the
term hypostasis continued to be a badge of the parties
respectively.
Peace was
established in the western church chiefly through the labours of Eusebius and
of Hilary of Poitiers, who had been allowed to resume his bishopric soon after
the councils of Rimini and Seleucia, as the court partly thought it desirable
even on such terms to remove so formidable an opponent to a distance from the
principal scene of action. The two bishops indefatigably exerted themselves for
the re-establishment of orthodoxy on the terms of the Alexandrian synod,
in which they obtained the concurrence of councils at Rome and elsewhere.
The effects of
Athanasius’ labours after his return to Alexandria soon drew on him the notice
of Julian, who knew and dreaded his energetic character; while the
representations of “magi, philosophers, aruspices, and augurs”, were not
wanting to excite the emperor against him as the most dangerous enemy of
paganism. In the end of 362, Julian directed against him a special mandate,
stating that Athanasius had lately presumed to baptize some Greek (i.e.
heathen) ladies of high rank; and declaring that the edict by which exiles were
allowed to return to their country had not been intended to restore them to
their ecclesiastical offices—a distinction which appears to have been invented
for the occasion, as it was not enforced in any other case. The Christians of
Alexandria petitioned in favour of their bishop; but Julian was only the more
exasperated. He styled Athanasius an “insignificant manikin”; he told them that
they were at liberty to make another bishop, but that so mischievous a person
must not remain among them; and, whereas the former sentence had been limited
to banishment from the city, it was now extended to all Egypt, with an order
that it should be immediately executed. On hearing of the rescript, Athanasius
said to his friends, “Let us withdraw; this is a little cloud which will soon
pass over”. He embarked on the Nile, and sailed up the stream, until, on being
told that a vessel was in pursuit, he ordered the steersman of his boat to turn
round, met the pursuers, who had not observed his movements, ingeniously
baffled their inquiries, and returned in safety to Alexandria. A renewal
of the search, however, soon after compelled him to leave his place of
concealment there, and he again found an asylum among the monks until he
received the tidings of Julian’s death.
CHAPTER IV.
FROM THE DEATH OF JULIAN TO THE END OF THE SECOND GENERAL COUNCIL
A.D. 363-381.
The forced
ascendency of paganism ended with the life of its patron. On the following day
Jovian, a Christian, was chosen emperor. The army declared itself Christian;
the labarum, which had been disused during the reign of Julian, was again
displayed at its head; the philosophers and soothsayers, who had basked in the
favour of the late emperor, retired into obscurity. Jovian, however, allowed
full toleration to his pagan subjects; and with respect to the divisions among
Christians, he declared that he would molest no one on account of religion, but
would love all who should study the church’s peace.
On his arrival at
Antioch, after an ignominious, though necessary, accommodation with the
Persians, and a disastrous retreat, the new emperor was beset by
representatives of the various Christian parties, each hoping to gain him to
its side. His mind was, however, already decided in favour of the Nicene faith;
he wrote to Athanasius, requesting instruction and advice, and inviting him to
visit the court. The bishop complied, and by personal intercourse he gained an
influence over Jovian which his enemies in vain attempted to disturb. The
Acacians, with their usual suppleness, resolved to conform to the spirit of the
time. They attended a synod held by Meletius at
Antioch, and signed the Nicene creed, evasively explaining co-essential as
meaning “begotten of the Father’s essence, and like the Father in essence”.
The reign of
Jovian lasted somewhat less than eight months; he was found dead in his bed at Dadastana, in Bithynia, on February 17, 364. On February 26
Valentinian was elected by the army as his successor, and a month later the new
emperor associated with him his brother Valens, to whom he assigned the eastern
division of the empire. Valentinian was possessed of many great qualities. He
vigorously and successfully defended the northern frontiers against the
barbarians who were pressing on the empire; he was the author of wise and
important regulations for its internal governments. But the justice on which he
prided himself was relentlessly severe; the manner of its execution was often
inhuman, and he was subject to violent fits of passion, by one of which
his death was occasioned. Valens, until elevated by his brother’s favour, had
been a person of little note. His capacity was inferior to that of Valentinian;
he is described by Gibbon as “rude without vigour, and feeble without
mildness”.
It is said that
both the brothers had exposed themselves to danger by the profession of
Christianity in the reign of Julian. Valentinian, when raised to the throne,
adhered to the Nicene faith; but, warned by the ill-success of Constantius in
enforcing conformity, he adopted a policy of general toleration, to which a
severe law against the Manichaeans is not to be regarded as an exception, since
it was rather directed against the magical practices of which they were
suspected, than against their erroneous opinions. He invariably declined all
interference in questions of doctrine, which he professed to leave to those who
had been trained for the consideration of them. He allowed Auxentius,
an Arian, to retain the important see of Milan—whether deceived by the bishop's
specious professions, which might have been enough to satisfy an uncritical and
somewhat indifferent soldier, or swayed by the influence of the empress
Justina, who was a zealous Arian. But with this exception the western sees
were, during Valentinian’s reign, in the possession of orthodox bishops.
In the east it was
otherwise. Valens is said to have been originally a catholic, and appears to
have been alike ignorant and careless of religion; but he was won over to
Arianism by his wife, who in 367, as he was about to set out for the Gothic
war, persuaded him to receive baptism from Eudoxius of Constantinople. It is said that the bishop exacted of him an oath to
persecute the Catholics, and it is certain that the hostility which he had
always shown towards them became from that time more bitter and more active.
Macedonius, on his ejection
from the see of Constantinople by the Acacians, had connected himself with the Semiarians, and, although he himself died soon after, the
party thenceforth took its name from him. The Macedonians had requested Jovian
either to establish the “creed of the dedication”, agreeably to the original
and unbiassed decision of the council of Seleucia; or, reverting to the
condition in which things had stood before the meetings at Seleucia and Rimini,
to summon a general synod, which should be free from all secular control. They
now obtained leave from Valens to hold a council at Lampsacus—the
emperor supposing that they would agree with Eudoxius and the Acacians, who had by this time retracted their subscriptions to the
Nicene creed. The bishops who met at Lampsacus,
however, took up the same position with the majority of the council of
Seleucia. They signed the creed of the dedication, with the word homoiousios, which they declared to be necessary for
preserving the personal distinction of the Godhead; they cited Eudoxius and his party before them, and on their
non-appearance sentenced them to deposition. But on applying to Valens for a
confirmation of their proceedings, they found that the Acacians had preoccupied
his mind, and that they were themselves condemned to deprivation and banishment
unless they would subscribe an Arian creed.
The zeal which
Valens soon after manifested in favour of Arianism induced the Macedonians to
look towards the west for sympathy and support, and deputies were sent into
Italy with letters for Valentinian and Liberius. The
letters addressed to the emperor were not delivered; for the bearers,
finding that he was in Gaul, did not follow him into that country. Liberius was at first distrustful of them; but on their
anathematizing all heresies, and signing the homoousion (which
they interpreted as equivalent to homoiousion),
he acknowledged them as being in communion with him, and wrote to the bishops
by whom they had been commissioned. A like recognition was obtained from other
western bishops; and thus the Semiarians, with the
exception ot a few who disavowed the late
proceedings, were reunited with the orthodox.
In 367 Valens
issued an order that such bishops as had been banished by Constantius, and had
returned to their sees under Julian, should again be ejected. At Antioch, where
he established his residence, he drove out Meletius,
although he allowed Paulinus to remain. It was attempted under the same law to
expel Athanasius, and he is said to have been driven to take refuge for a time
in his father's tomb : but his people represented to the emperor that his case
did not fall under the letter of the edict, and made such demonstrations of
their attachment to the bishop in other ways, that Valens thought it well to
permit his return. And thus, while the cause to which his life had been devoted
was oppressed in all other parts of the eastern empire, the great champion of
orthodoxy was allowed to spend his last years in undisturbed possession of his
see.
The elder actors
in the Arian controversy were now passing away. Liberius died in 366, and the succession to the see of Rome was disputed between Damasus and Ursinus, or Ursicinus.
This contest, which arose out of the old rivalry between Liberius and Felix, and did not involve any question of doctrine, occasioned violent
tumults, and even great slaughter. On one occasion a hundred and sixty
partisans of Ursinus, men and women, were killed in the church which bore the
name of Liberius (now St. Mary Major). At the end of
three years Ursinus was banished to Gaul; but he repeatedly revived his
claim to the bishopric of Rome, both during the lifetime of Damasus and at his death. Acacius died in 366; Hilary, in 367
or 368. The last mention of Ursacius and Valens as
living is in the condemnation pronounced on them by synods at Rome and
elsewhere about 369. Eudoxius of Constantinople died
in 370 ; Lucifer of Cagliari, in 371; Euzoius of
Antioch, in 376.
On the death of Eudoxius, Evagrius was set up as
his successor by the Catholics of Constantinople, and Demophilus by the Arians; but Evagrius was soon driven out, and
his adherents were subjected to a variety of outrages. A complaint of this
usage was presented to Valens at Nicomedia by eighty presbyters of the orthodox
party; but, instead of obtaining redress, they were compelled to embark on
board a ship, which the crew (it is said, by command of one of the emperor’s
officers) set on fire and deserted; and the whole company of ecclesiastics
perished. Other barbarities are related of Valens—as that at Antioch he ordered
many of the orthodox to be drowned in the Orontes. The monks of Egypt and
Pontus were especially obnoxious to him—partly because the monastic profession
afforded to many an excuse for indolence, and withdrew them from their duties
to the state, and partly on account of their steady adherence to the
Nicene faith and the exertion of their powerful influence in its behalf. The
emperor in 373 ordered that monks should be dragged from their retreats, and
should be compelled to perform their service as citizens, under the penalty of
being beaten to death. The Egyptian deserts were invaded by soldiers
commissioned to enforce the edict, and many of the monks suffered death in consequence.
Athanasius is
supposed by the best authorities to have died in May, 373. He had designated as
his successor one of his presbyters named Peter. The Arian Lucius, who had been
set up as bishop after the murder of George, and had held possession of the see
during the exile of Athanasius under Julian, was now brought back by his party,
and Peter was driven out with circumstances of outrage and profanation similar
to those which accompanied the expulsion of his great predecessor by Gregory
and George. Peter took refuge at Rome, and after a time returned with letters
of recommendation from the bishop, Damasus;
whereupon, as Valens was then at a distance—having been diverted from
theological controversies by the Gothic war—the people rose against Lucius and
reinstated the orthodox bishop.
Valentinian was
succeeded in 375 by his son Gratian, who had already for eight years held the
dignity of Augustus. The new emperor, whose own age was only sixteen, admitted
as a nominal colleague his half-brother, the younger Valentinian, a child four
years old. By the death of Valens, at the disastrous battle of Adrianople,
Aug. 9, Gratian became in 378 master of the whole empire; but he hastened to
relieve himself of a part of his cares by bestowing the sovereignty of the
east on Theodosius, son of a general of the general of the same name, whose
distinguished services in Britain and in Africa had been requited by his
execution at Carthage three years before. The younger Theodosius had since
lived in retirement on his estates in Spain, until he was summoned to share the
empire, in the hope that his abilities might avert the dangers with which it
was threatened by the Gothic invaders.
Gratian, on
succeeding to the dominions of Valens, proclaimed liberty of religion to all except
Manichaeans, Eunomians, and Photinians,
and recalled the banished bishops of the east. The Semiarians,
on being thus freed from the oppression of Valens, broke off the connection
which they had so eagerly formed with the orthodox; but many refused to join in
this movement, and remained united to the catholic body.
It would seem to
have been about this time that a denial of the Divinity of the Holy Ghost
became the chief characteristic of the party. Heterodox opinions on that
subject had been implied in all the varieties of Arianism; but as the nature of
the Third Person in the Trinity had not been brought into discussion while the
Godhead of the Son was in question, nothing had been defined respecting it in
the Nicene creed. Athanasius, however, with his characteristic perception of
consequences, had always strenuously asserted the equal and co-essential
Godhead of the Spirit, as well as that of the Son, and, in a treatise written
from the desert during his exile under Constantius, had confuted the error of
the Pneumatomachi (or adversaries of
the Spirit), which was then acquiring distinctness. Although the name of Macedonianism, which was afterwards attached to this
heresy, would naturally convey the idea that it was invented by Macedonius, it was really nothing more than a remnant of
Arianism retained by a party which had shaken off the other errors of that
system; for the Semiarians now acknowledged the
Godhead of the Son, while they maintained that the Spirit was as a servant—as
one of the angels. Nor do we even know what opinion Macedonius himself held on the question; for it was not until some years after his death
that his name was connected with the heretical tenet, through the circumstance
that the Semiarians happened to be called after him
at the time when this tenet became the prominent mark of their party.
In the meanwhile
the Nicene faith had made progress. The consistency of its supporters stood in
advantageous contrast with the continual variations of their opponents. The
monks lent to it the great and growing authority of their reputation for
sanctity; and, as has been mentioned, a large portion of the Semiarians adhered to the orthodox connection into which
they had been driven by the tyranny of Valens. Throughout all the long
controversy the belief of the great mass of Christians had been very
little affected. In their pastoral teaching, as in their creeds, the Arian
bishops and clergy had usually studied to observe orthodoxy of statement and
language, so that their doctrine, although incomplete, was not untrue. Thus
their flocks received the words in the sound meaning which was apparent on the
surface, so that, according to a celebrated expression of St. Hilary, “The ears
of the people were holier than the hearts of the priests”. And now, although
Athanasius was gone, the great weight of ability and learning among the
Christians was on the side of orthodoxy, which had lately gained a very
important accession in the east. A class of theologians had arisen, who, born
and educated in countries where Semiarianism prevailed, had in their earlier years been connected with that system—trained
up according to its sound though imperfect creeds, in such a manner that one of
them, when he had become an eminent champion of the Nicene doctrine, could yet
speak of his opinions as having undergone no other change than a development
like that of the plant from the seed. The members of this school maintained the
identity of homoousion with homoiousion they
brought with them into the orthodox communion many of their old associations;
and through their influence it was that several Semiarians came to be acknowledged by the church as saints, and that the canons of the Semiarian councils of Antioch (A.D. 341) and Laodicea (A.D.
372?) gained a reception in the east, which was eventually extended to the
west. The most distinguished of the “later Nicene” teachers were three
Cappadocians—Basil, his brother Gregory of Nyssa, and his friend Gregory of
Nazianzus or Nazianzum. Of these eminent men the
first and the last must be here more particularly noticed.
Basil and the
Nazianzen Gregory were born about the same time—probably in the year 329. Basil
was of a noble Christian family. The father of Gregory had belonged to a sect
known by the name of hypsistarians, whose creed was a
strange medley of Jewish and Persian notions he had been converted by his wife Nonna, a woman of remarkable piety, and had been appointed
to the bishopric of Nazianzum, a poor diocese, which
had fallen into great disorder in consequence of long vacancy and neglect. An
acquaintance formed between the youths at the schools of Caesarea, in their
native province, ripened into the closest intimacy at Athens, where they spent
several years. They were distinguished in all the studies of that city, and
withstood the influences by which many who, like themselves had been trained in
the Christian faith, were there drawn away to heathenism. During a part of the
time Julian was their fellow-student; and Gregory professes to have already
observed in the future emperor indications of the evil which was manifested in
his later career. Both Basil and Gregory resolved to renounce the hopes of
secular eminence, and to embrace a religious life. Each was baptized after
leaving Athens, and Gregory promised at the font to devote all his gifts
and powers to the service of God. Basil, after having travelled in Egypt and
elsewhere, returned to his native country, and became one of the clergy of
Caesarea. He withdrew for five years into the desert of Pontus, where he
founded monastic establishments, monachism having been lately introduced into
that country by Eustathius, bishop of Sebaste. The system which Basil adopted was the caenobitic (or that of living in communities) as being in
his judgment more conducive to the exercise of graces than the solitary life,
which in Egypt had been regarded as the higher of the two. "God," he
said, "has made us—even like the bodily members—to need one another's
help. For what discipline of humility, of pity, or of patience can there be, if
there be no one towards whom these virtues can be practised? Whose feet wilt
thou wash, whom wilt thou serve, how canst thou be the last of all—if thou art
alone?". In his rule practical industry was combined with religious
exercises, and by the labours of his monks a barren tract was brought into
cultivation and fertility. Basil returned to Caesarea in 362, and was ordained
presbyter; but after a short time he again retired into the desert for three
years, in consequence of some unexplained jealousy on the part of his bishop,
Eusebius. In each of his retreats he was accompanied for a time by Gregory,
who, however, was on both occasions called away by disagreements between his
father and the monks of Nazianzum, originating in the
circumstance that the aged bishop had been induced to sign the creed of Rimini.
Gregory by his ascetic life had gained a powerful influence over the
monks; he convinced them that his father had been deceived through ignorance of
controversial subtleties, and had acted without any heretical intention; and he
twice succeeded in establishing peace. He also reconciled Basil with Eusebius;
and on that bishop's death he effected the promotion of his friend to the see
of Caesarea, to which was attached the primacy of the greater part of Asia Minor.
The indefatigable
labours of Basil, his controversies, his endeavours to unite the orthodox among
themselves, to gain over sectaries to the church, and to establish peace
between the east and the west, must be passed over with a mere allusion. During
the short time between his elevation and the death of Athanasius he enjoyed the
confidence of that great prelate; and he succeeded the Alexandrian bishop as
leader of the eastern orthodox. Like Athanasius, he was able to preserve his
church from the Arianism which was triumphant throughout the east during the
reign of Valens. While a presbyter under Eusebius, he had baffled the
theologians of the emperor's train in disputation; but soon after his
advancement to the episcopate a fresh attempt was made on him. Valens,
determined that Caesarea alone should not continue to resist him, sent
Modestus, prefect of Cappadocia, with a commission to expel Basil if he should
refuse to conform to the dominant religion, and Modestus summoned the
archbishop to appear before him. To his threats Basil replied that he did not
fear them; confiscation, he said, could not touch a man who had no property
except a single suit of ragged clothes and a few books; as for banishment, he
denied that such a thing was possible—go where he might, he could find a home,
or rather he regarded the whole earth as God’s, and himself as a stranger
everywhere; his feeble body could bear no tortures beyond the first stroke; and
death would be a favour, since it would conduct him to God. The prefect, who
had opened the conference in a very peremptory tone, was subdued by the
archbishop’s firmness, and reported the result to his master, who soon after
arrived at Caesarea. Valens himself was awed by the presence of Basil and the
solemnity of the catholic worship, which he witnessed on the feast of the
Epiphany, but without being admitted to communicate. The impression thus made
is said to have been heightened by miracles; and not only was Basil left
unmolested in his see, but the emperor bestowed a valuable estate on a large
hospital which the archbishop's charity had founded.
Soon after this
Valens divided Cappadocia into two provinces; whereupon Anthimus,
bishop of Tyana, which became the capital of the
second division, asserted that the ecclesiastical government ought to follow
the arrangements of the civil, and claimed for himself the rights of a
metropolitan. Finding that the claim revived some jealousies which had been
felt at his election to Caesarea, Basil resolved to strengthen himself by
erecting new bishoprics; and one of the places chosen for this purpose was Sasima, an outpost on the border of his opponent’s
province—the meeting-place of three great roads, a posting station and the seat
of a frontier custom-house; a wretched little town, dry, dusty, and continually
disquieted by the brawls of waggoners, travellers, and revenue officers. Here
Basil, with that disregard for the character and feelings of others which is
not uncommon in persons of a strongly practical nature, determined to place
Gregory, who had some years before been forcibly ordained1 a presbyter by his
own father. Gregory made no secret of his repugnance to the execution of this
scheme; he said that the archbishop's elevation had caused him to forget what
was due to their ancient and equal friendship; he resisted until he was
overpowered by the united urgency of his father and Basil; and he afterwards
traced all the troubles of his later life to the consent which was at length
extorted from him. After his consecration he felt himself oppressed by his high
views of the episcopal responsibility, by his love for a life of contemplation,
and by the sense of his unfitness to dispute his position with Anthimus. He refused to proceed to Sasima,
and was then persuaded by his father to assist him in the care of Nazianzum. After the old man's death, which took place in
374, Gregory continued for some time to administer the diocese, while he
endeavoured to obtain the appointment of a regular bishop; but, finding his
exertions for this purpose vain, he withdrew to Seleucia, where he spent three
or four years in retirement.
Theodosius, as a
Spaniard, belonged to the Nicene party, but at the time of his elevation to the
empire was only a catechumen. In the beginning of 380 he fell dangerously sick
at Thessalonica; when he sent for the bishop of the place, and, after
having ascertained his orthodoxy, received baptism at his hands. His admission
to the church was followed by an edict, which was at first limited to
Constantinople, but in the following year was extended to all his
dominions—that those only should be acknowledged as catholic Christians who
adhered to the faith of the co-essential Trinity, as it had been taught by St.
Peter to the Romans, and was then held by Damasus of
Rome and Peter of Alexandria; that all who denied this doctrine should be
reputed as heretics and discouraged. Gratian also—at the instigation (it is
supposed) of Ambrose, bishop of Milan— limited by later edicts the toleration
which he had announced in 378.
In November 380,
Theodosius arrived at Constantinople. About two years before, when the death of
Valens appeared to open a new prospect to the orthodox, Gregory of Nazianzum had been induced by Basil and other leaders of
the party to undertake a mission to that capital. He entered on the enterprise
with much distrust of his qualifications. Arianism was in great strength at
Constantinople, where the see had for nearly forty years been filled by its
partisans. The Novatianists had some churches; the
Apollinarians were gaining a footing in the city; but the orthodox were very
few, and even these were divided among themselves by sympathy with the opposite
parties in the schism of Antioch. Gregory was obliged at first to officiate in
the house of a relation—which, from the resurrection (anastasis) of the
true faith, acquired the name of Anastasia, and was afterwards
enlarged into a splendid church. At the outset he had to encounter much
prejudice. His austere, simple, and recluse life appeared in unpopular contrast
with the free and secular habits of the Arian clergy. His doctrine was regarded
as polytheistic. He was repeatedly assaulted by the populace, and by the staff
of the Arian establishment—monks, virgins, and beggars; he was stoned, he was
carried before magistrates as a disturber of the peace, his church was invaded
by night and profaned. But he persevered in his mission, and, although the
object of it was controversial, he earnestly endeavoured to counteract in his
hearers the prevailing habit of familiarly discussing the highest mysteries of
religion—exhorting them “not to make a sport of the things of God, as if they
were matters of the theatre or of the race-course”. By degrees, his eloquence,
the practical and religious tone of his doctrinal teaching, and the influence of
his mild and serious character, began to tell, so that the little Anastasia
became unable to contain the crowds which resorted to it. The progress of this
success had, indeed, been slightly interrupted by one Maximus, an Egyptian, who
had formerly been a cynic philosopher. This man, after having insinuated
himself into Gregory’s confidence, was ordained bishop in a disorderly manner
by some emissaries of Peter of Alexandria, although Peter had before approved
of Gregory's mission. But the pretender was rejected by the people, and in vain
endeavoured to find support from the emperor and from the bishop of Rome.
On his arrival at
Constantinople, Theodosius summoned before him the Arian bishop, Demophilus, and required him to subscribe the Nicene creed,
on pain of deprivation. Demophilus assembled his
flock, and reminded them of the Saviour's charge “when persecuted in one city
to flee to another”. The Arians were forthwith turned out of all the churches,
and began to hold their meetings without the walls of the capital. A few days
after this, Theodosius formally put Gregory into possession of the principal
church of Constantinople. The morning was gloomy, Gregory was suffering from
illness, and, as the procession passed through streets lined with troops, he was
dismayed by the thought that a bishop should need such a protection against his
own flock. But at the moment of his entrance into the choir, a sudden burst of
sunshine lighted up the building, and the people, catching enthusiasm from the
change, cried out that the emperor should place him on the episcopal throne.
Gregory, however, declined to take his seat, and feeling himself, from
agitation and bodily weakness, unable to address the congregation, he employed
the voice of another to speak for him—“Now it is time to acknowledge the
benefits which the blessed Trinity has bestowed on us; but of the throne we
will consider hereafter”. Such was the exasperation of the Arians that attempts
were made to assassinate him.
Theodosius
proceeded to assemble a council, which met at Constantinople on May 2, 381. It
was composed of oriental bishops only; but its decrees were afterwards
gradually received throughout the west, and it is consequently acknowledged as
the second general council. A hundred and fifty orthodox prelates attended.
Among them were Meletius, Gregory of Nyssa (whose
brother Basil had died in the preceding year), and Cyril of Jerusalem, who had
formerly been connected with the Semiarian party. The
Macedonians had been invited, in the hope that they might renew the union which
they had formed with the Catholics in the reign of Valens; but, although
thirty-six of them appeared in answer to the summons, it was found that they
would not submit to a reconciliation.
The earlier
sessions were held under the presidency of Meletius,
to whom the see of Antioch had lately been adjudged by an imperial commissary;
and by him, after an examination of the pretensions of Maximus, Gregory was
solemnly enthroned as bishop of Constantinople. But Meletius died while the council was sittings and deplorable dissensions followed. With a
view to healing the schisms which had so long afflicted the church of Antioch,
six of its clergy, who were regarded as the most likely to be raised to the
episcopate, had lately entered into an engagement, which is said to have been
even ratified by an oath, that on the death of either Paulinus or Meletius, they would acknowledge the survivor as rightful
bishop; but a jealousy which had arisen between the Asiatic bishops and those
of Egypt and the west now interfered with the execution of this arrangement.
The Asiatics objected to Paulinus as having been
ordained by a Latin, Lucifer, and as being connected with the Latin party; and,
notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of Gregory, now president of the
council, whose natural inclination towards the Meletian party was overpowered
by his desire of peace and by his sense of the impropriety of the
proceeding—they consecrated Flavian, one of the six who are represented as
having bound themselves to renounce their pretensions to the see.
Timothy, who had
just succeeded his brother Peter at Alexandria, soon after arrived, with a
train of bishops. The Egyptians were offended at not having been earlier
summoned to the council, and were greatly exasperated by the late proceedings.
They resolved once more to set up their countryman Maximus, and to depose
Gregory, under the pretext that his appointment to Constantinople was in breach
of a Nicene canon, which forbade the translation of bishops. The malice and unfairness
of this objection were palpable; for the canon had often been disregarded in
practice, and Gregory’s acceptance of the see hardly came even within its
letter, inasmuch as he had neither acted in the diocese of Sasima,
nor been appointed to that of Nazianzum; much less
did it violate the intention of the canon, which was to check the ambition of
bishops. But he was not disposed to contest the question. He was sick both in
body and in spirit, and even before the opening of the council had attempted to
withdraw from his stormy position of eminence to the quiet life of
contemplation which he best loved; he had accepted the bishopric only in the
hope that he might be able to mediate between the eastern party and that which
was formed by the junction of the western with the Egyptian bishops. Both now
turned against him—the Asiatics, because he had
opposed them in the matter of Antioch; the bishops of Egypt and Macedonia,
because, although opposed to the election of Flavian, he had presided over the
council by whose members it was determined. Gregory entreated that no one would
attempt to maintain his rights, and declared that he would gladly become a
Jonah to appease the furious waves of party strife. His resignation was
accepted —reluctantly by the emperor, but with an indecent eagerness by the
majority of the bishop; and he took leave of the council in an eloquent and
pathetic discourse—stating his orthodox faith, recounting his labours at
Constantinople, and strongly denouncing the luxury and secularity, the
jealousies and corruptions, which disgraced the church and her rulers. A list
of persons qualified to succeed to the bishopric was drawn up, and from it the
emperor selected Nectarius, a man of senatorial rank,
who, being as yet only a catechumen, was forthwith baptized, and within a few
days was consecrated—wearing the episcopal robes over the white dress of a
neophyte. Gregory, after leaving Constantinople, again assumed the charge of Nazianzum, until he succeeded in obtaining the appointment
of a regular bishop. He spent his last years in retirement, soothing himself
with the composition of poetry, and died in 389 or 390.
The council of
Constantinople, by additions to the article on the Holy Ghost (which were in
substance taken from a work of Epiphanius, written some years before),
brought the Nicene creed to its present form, except that the procession of the
Holy Spirit from the Son was not mentioned. Among its canons was one which
assigned to the bishop of Constantinople a precedence next after the bishop of
Rome—“forasmuch as it is a new Rome”. Of the heresies condemned by the council,
the only one which has not been already noticed is the Apollinarian. The
founder of this, Apollinarius or Apollinaris, was son
of an Alexandrian rhetorician of the same name, who settled at Laodicea in
Syria. Both father and son were distinguished as writers; they were the chief
authors of the ingenious substitutes for the classics by which the Christians
endeavoured to baffle Julian’s intention of excluding them from the cultivation
of literature; and the younger Apollinarius especially had gained a high reputation by his controversial works against
various forms of heresy. He was honoured with the friendship of St. Athanasius,
and in 362 was appointed to the bishopric of Laodicea.
An opinion
condemned by the Alexandrian council of 362 has been wrongly identified with
the error of Apollinarius, which was not put forth
until later. It was, however, current during the last years of Athanasius, who
wrote in refutation of it, although—probably from considerations of old
friendship, and of the services which Apollinarius had formerly rendered to the orthodox cause—he abstained from mentioning his
name.
While the Arians
altogether denied the existence of a human soul in Christ, and employed the
texts which relate to his humanity as proofs of the imperfection of his higher
nature, Apollinarius followed the Platonic school in
dividing the nature of man into body, animal or vital soul and
intellectual or rational soul (nous). From the variableness and
sinfulness of man's rational soul he argued that, if the Saviour had had such a
soul, he must together with it have had its freedom of will, and therefore a
tendency to sin; consequently (he proceeded to say), that part of man's nature
was not assumed by the Saviour, but the Divine Logos supplied its place,
controlling the evil impulses of the animal soul, of which the body is the
passive instrument. Some of the followers of Apollinarius,
if not he himself, maintained that the flesh of Christ existed before his
appearance in the world, and was not taken by him of the substance of the
blessed Virgin, but was brought down from heaven—a notion for which they
professed to find authority in some texts of Scripture.
After the death of
Athanasius, Apollinarius published his opinions more
openly. He did not suppose himself to be opposed to the catholic faith, but
rather to have discovered the true grounds on which it was to be
maintained. Finding however that this view of the matter was not generally
accepted, he formed a sect of his own, setting up bishops at Antioch and
elsewhere; and, like Bardesanes and Arius, he
procured currency for his doctrines by embodying them in hymns and popular
songs. Notwithstanding the anathemas pronounced against Apollinarianism by many
synods, and at last by the general council of Constantinople, its founder
retained his bishopric until his death, which took place before the year 392.
The sect appears to have run into further errors, but did not long survive him.
CHAPTER V.
FROM THE END OF THE SECOND GENERAL COUNCIL TO THE DEATH OF THEODOSIUS—ST.
AMBROSE.
A.D. 381-395.
I. It has been
mentioned that the Arian Auxentius was allowed by
Valentinian to retain the important see of Milan. On his death, in 374, the
emperor was requested to nominate an archbishop, but, agreeably to his
principle of avoiding interference in spiritual affairs, he referred the choice
to the people. An eager contest ensued between the Catholics and the Arians.
While both parties were assembled in the principal church, and it seemed likely
that their excitement would break out into deeds of violence, the governor of
Liguria, Ambrose, appeared, and made a speech exhorting them to peace. When he
ceased, a little child, it is said, was heard to utter the words, “Ambrose,
bishop!”, and immediately the cry was caught up by the whole assemblage. The
governor, who, although of Christian parentage, was as yet only a catechumen,
wished to avoid an office so alien from his former thoughts and studies. He
attempted by various devices to convince the Milanese that his character was
unsuitable; he fled more than once from the city; but he was brought back, and,
as Valentinian approved of the election, was consecrated within a week after
his baptism.
Ambrose, the son
of a praetorian prefect of Gaul, had been educated as an advocate, and at the
time of his election to the archbishopric was thirty-four years of age. He
forthwith set himself to make up by assiduous study for his previous neglect of
theological learning. It would seem that, on his sudden elevation, he yielded
himself without suspicion or reserve to the tendencies of that fashion of
religion which he found prevailing; and from the combination of this with his
naturally lofty and energetic character resulted a mixture of qualities which
might almost seem incompatible,—of manliness, commanding dignity, and strong
practical sense, with a fanciful mysticism and a zealous readiness to encourage
and forward the growing superstitions of the age. “The Old and New Testament”
it has been well said, “met in the person of Ambrose—the implacable hostility
to idolatry, the abhorrence of every deviation from the established form of
belief; the wise and courageous benevolence, the generous and unselfish devotion
to the great interests of humanity”.
After the death of
Valentinian, Ambrose acquired a strong influence over the mind of
Gratian, for whose especial instruction he wrote some treatises. But in
Justina, the widow of the late emperor, and mother of the younger
Valentinian (whose chief residence was at Milan), he found a bitter and
persevering enemy. This princess was devoted to the Arian creed, and her first
disagreement with Ambrose appears to have been in 379, when he defeated her in
an attempt to procure the appointment of a heretical bishop to Sirmium. But notwithstanding this collision, when tidings
reached Milan in 383 that Gratian had been murdered at Lyons by the partisans
of the rebel Maximus, Justina placed her young son in the archbishop's arms,
and entreated him to become his protector. Ambrose accepted the charge,
proceeded to Treves, where Maximus had fixed his court, and obtained his
consent to a partition of the west—Maximus taking for himself Britain, Gaul,
and Spain, while the other countries were left to Valentinian.
Two years later,
however, a fresh contest with the empress-mother arose. Ambrose had succeeded
in extinguishing Arianism among the citizens of Milan, so that its only
adherents in the place were a portion of the court and some Gothic soldiers. To
these the archbishop was required, on the approach of Easter, to give up,
first, the Portian basilica, (a church without the
walls), and afterwards the largest church within the city, which had just been
erected on the site now occupied by that which bears his name. He was twice
summoned before the council, who told him that he must yield to the imperial
power. He replied that he was ready to part with anything that was his own—even
his life ; but that he was not at liberty to surrender what was sacred :
“Palaces” he said, “are for the emperor; churches are for God’s priests”.
The populace of the city were greatly excited. They tore down the hangings
which had been put up by way of preparing the churches for the reception of the
emperor; they seized an Arian presbyter in the streets, and would probably have
killed him, if Ambrose had not interposed to rescue him; they surrounded the
palace while the archbishop was in attendance on the council. The imperial
ministers in alarm entreated him to restrain his partisans; Ambrose answered
that it was in his power to refrain from exciting them, but that it was in
God's hand only to appease them; that, if he were suspected of having
instigated the tumult, he ought to be punished by banishment or otherwise. Even
the soldiery showed a disposition to take part with the Catholics, and some of
them, who had been sent to occupy the new church, declared that they were come,
not to fight, but to join in the archbishop's prayers. The empress at length yielded,
and a heavy fine which had been laid on the traders of Milan as a punishment
for the first demonstration in favour of Ambrose was remitted.
In the beginning
of the following year an edict was issued, allowing entire freedom of religion
to those who should profess the creed of Rimini, and denouncing death against
all who should molest them. Soon after its publication Ambrose was required,
under pain of deprivation, to argue his cause with the bishop of the Arian
party, a Goth who had assumed the name of the former Arian bishop Auxentius, in the presence of the emperor and some lay
judges; but he boldly refused, on the ground that matters of faith ought not to
be submitted to such a tribunal. When Easter was again at hand, a fresh demand
was made for the church within the walls. With an allusion to the story of
Naboth, Ambrose replied that he would not give up the inheritance of his
fathers, the holy and orthodox bishops who had filled the see before him. On
being ordered to leave the city, he refused to yield except to force, and his
flock, in fear lest he should either withdraw or be carried off, anxiously
guarded him—passing several nights in the church and the adjoining buildings,
while the outlets were watched by the imperial soldiers. During these vigils
Ambrose introduced, for the first time in the west, a mode of singing which had
lately originated in somewhat similar circumstances at Antioch— that, instead
of leaving the psalmody to the choristers, the whole congregation should divide
itself into two choirs, by which the chant was to be taken up alternately.
The matter was
still undecided, when Ambrose, on proceeding to complete the consecration of
the church which had been the object of so much contention, was requested by
his people to use the same ceremonies as on a certain former occasion. He
answered that he would do so if relics of saints should be found, and gave
orders to dig up the pavement near the altar-rails in the church of St. Felix
and St. Nabor; when two skeletons were discovered, of
extraordinary size, “such as the olden time produced”, with the heads
separated from the bodies, and with a large quantity of fresh blood. These
relics, after having been exposed for two days, were deposited in the new
church. Demoniacs who were brought near to them showed signs of great
disturbance; some of the possessed declared that the bones were those of
martyrs, and proclaimed their names, Gervasius and Protasius—names which had been utterly forgotten, but which
old men were at length able to remember that they had heard in former days; in
other cases the demons cried out that all who refused to confess the true
doctrine of the Trinity, as it was taught by Ambrose, would be tormented even
as they themselves then were. Other miracles are related as having been brought
by the touch of the cloth which covered the relics, and even by their shadow as
they were carried along. The most noted was, that a butcher, well known in
Milan, who had lost his sight, recovered it on touching the hem of the pall,
and, as a witness to the cure, he became for the rest of his days sacristan of
the church in which they were preserved. The general excitement was now such,
that, although the Arians questioned and ridiculed the miracles, Justina no
longer ventured to press her claims against the bishop, who was supposed to
have been distinguished by a Divine interposition in his behalf.
An apprehension of
renewed danger from Maximus may perhaps have contributed to this result. In
following year (387) Ambrose was again sent to the court of Treves, with a
commission to treat for the delivery of Gratian’s body. He asserted in a
remarkable manner the dignity of the episcopal character, but returned without
effecting his object and soon after Maximus, in violation of his engagements, invaded
the territories of Valentinian. The young emperor and his mother fled for protection to Theodosius, who in the summer of 388
marched westwards, defeated the usurper, who was given up by his own adherents,
and was put to death; and for a time the victor fixed his residence at Milan.
The power which
Ambrose had exerted over the younger princes was no less felt by “the Great”
Theodosius. Soon after his arrival at Milan the emperor was about to seat
himself within that part of the cathedral which was appropriated to the clergy,
when the archbishop desired him to withdraw to a position at the head of the
laity. Theodosius expressed thanks for the admonition, excused himself on the
ground that at Constantinople the imperial seat was within the railings of the
choir, and on his return to the east, astonished the more courtly clergy of his
capital by introducing the practice of Milan.
The zeal of
Theodosius for unity of faith and worship among his subjects was encouraged and
directed by Ambrose, who assumed a right of moral control over the emperor's
proceedings. On one occasion, at least, this influence appears to have been
pushed beyond the bounds of equity. The Christians of Callinicum,
in Mesopotamia, had destroyed a Jewish synagogue, and, in revenge for an insult
offered to some monks, as they were on their way to keep a festival, had also
burnt a Valentinian place of worship. Theodosius ordered that the bishop of the
town, who had encouraged these proceedings, should restore the buildings, or
pay the price of them. On hearing of the order, Ambrose wrote to the emperor by
way of remonstrance, and, as his letter had no effect, he followed it up by a
personal appeal in a sermon, maintaining that it was inconsistent with the duty
of a Christian prince to sanction the employment of Christian funds for such
purposes. Theodosius yielded, and recalled his sentence. We may be inclined to
wonder that Ambrose, if he failed to see the injustice of the position which he
advanced, and its inconsistency with any sound principles of civil government,
was yet not led to suspect its truth by the consideration that it would have
warranted the oppression of a Christian minority by heathens, or of an orthodox
minority by heretics. But so far was he from feeling any misgiving on this
account, that he even ventured to cite the destruction of churches under
Julian, and the recent burning of the episcopal house at Constantinople by the
Arians, as if these acts were sufficient precedents for a justification of the
Mesopotamian outrages.
An interposition
of a more creditable nature followed. The most prominent defect in the noble
and amiable character of Theodosius was a proneness to violent anger. That he
could be merciful after great provocation was remarkably shown in his
forgiveness of the people of Antioch, who in 387 rose in sedition on account of
a tax, burnt some houses, and threw down the statues of the emperor, of his
deceased wife, to whom he had been tenderly attached, and of other members of
his family. But in 390 his passion became the occasion of a fearful tragedy at
Thessalonica. The populace of that city, on the occasion of a chariot-race,
demanded the release of a favourite charioteer, whom Botheric,
commander-in-chief of the district, had imprisoned for attempting an abominable
crime; and on Botheric’s refusal, they broke out into
tumult, and murdered him with many of his soldiery and others. The emperor,
although greatly exasperated by the report of the insurrection, promised, at
the intercession of Ambrose, to pardon the Thessalonians; but his secular
advisers, who regarded with great jealousy the influence of the bishop over his
mind, were afterwards able, by insisting on the heinous character of the
offence, to procure from him an order which was carefully kept secret from
Ambrose. The people of Thessalonica were invited to a performance of games in
the circus, and, while there assembled, were attacked by an overwhelming force
of soldiers. Neither age nor sex was regarded; no distinction was made between
guilty and innocent, citizen and stranger. For three hours an indiscriminate
butchery was carried on, and at least seven thousand victims perished.
The report of this
massacre affected Ambrose with the deepest horror. Theodosius was then absent
from Milan, and before his return the archbishop retired into the country,
whence he wrote a letter, exhorting him to repent, and declaring that, until
due penance should be performed, he had been forbidden by God to offer the
Eucharistic sacrifice in the emperor's presence. The letter had its effect in
convincing Theodosius of the guilt which he had incurred by allowing
treacherous barbarity to take the place of justice. But this was not enough for
Ambrose. As Theodosius was about to enter the Portian church, the archbishop met him in the porch; laying hold of his robe, he
desired him to withdraw, as a man polluted with innocent blood; and when the
emperor spoke of his contrition, Ambrose told him that private regrets were
insufficient to expiate so grievous a wrong. Theodosius submitted and retired.
For eight months he remained in penitential seclusion, laying aside all his
imperial ornaments, until at the Christmas season he presented himself before
the archbishop, and humbly entreated readmission into the church. Ambrose
required, as a condition of his granting this, that some practical fruit of
repentance should be shown; and the emperor consented to issue a law by which,
in order to guard against the effects of sudden anger, the execution of
all capital punishments was to be deferred until thirty days after the
sentence. Having thus gained the privilege of readmission into the communion of
the faithful, Theodosius, on being allowed to enter the church, prostrated
himself on the pavement with every demonstration of the deepest grief and
humiliation; and Ambrose, in his funeral oration over the emperor, assures us
that from that time he never passed a day without recalling to mind the crime
into which he had been betrayed by his passion.
The behaviour of
Theodosius in this remarkable affair was evidently not the result of weakness
or pusillanimity, but of a real feeling of his guilt—a sincere acknowledgment
of a higher Power to which all worldly greatness is subject. In order to judge
rightly of Ambrose’s conduct, we must dismiss from our minds some recollections
of later times, which may be very likely to intrude themselves. The archbishop
appears to have been actuated by no other motive than a solemn sense of his
duty. He felt the dignity with which his office invested him; he held himself
bound, by interposing it in behalf of justice and humanity, to control the
excesses of earthly power. His sternness towards the emperor has nothing in
common with the assumptions of those who, in after ages, used the names of God
and his church to cover their own pride and love of domination.
In the autumn of
391 Theodosius returned to the east, leaving Valentinian in possession, not
only of his original dominions, but of those which had been ceded to Maximus
after the murder of Gratian. Justina had died in 388, and from that time the
young emperor was entirely under the guidance of Ambrose. In 392 he wrote
from Vienne, urgently desiring the archbishop to visit him—partly in order to
establish a better relation with the Frankish general Arbogast, who had been
placed with him by Theodosius as a protector, but had begun to show symptoms of
a dangerous ambition; and partly to administer the sacrament of baptism, which
Valentinian, according to the custom of the time, had hitherto delayed to
receive. Ambrose set out in obedience to the summons; but before his arrival,
Valentinian had been murdered by the Frank. Once more Theodosius moved into the
west, to put down the rhetorician Eugenius, whom Arbogast had raised to a
nominal sovereignty. But within four months after his victory he died at
Milan—the last emperor who fully maintained the dignity of the Roman name.
Ambrose survived him a little more than two years, and died on Easter eve, 397.
Although paganism
lost the ascendency which it had possessed during the brief reign of Julian, it
yet for a time enjoyed full toleration. While barbarians threatened the empire,
its rulers felt the inexpediency of irritating that large portion of their
subjects which adhered to the old religion. Valentinian and his brother,
indeed, carried on a searching inquiry after the practice of magical arts, and
punished those concerned in it severely—in many cases with death. But the
edicts on this subject were only renewals of earlier laws; and the motive of
them was not religious but political, inasmuch as the practices of divination
and theurgy were connected with speculations and intrigues as to matters of
state. These practices were carried on, not by the ignorant vulgar alone, but
by members of the old Roman aristocracy, and by the high philosophic party
which had been powerful under Julian; and many persons both of the aristocratic
and of the philosophical classes were among the victims of Valentinian’s laws.
The consultation of the aruspices for innocent purposes was, however, still
allowed. Guards of soldiers were allowed to protect the temples, although
Christians were exempt from this service. Valentinian even endowed the
priesthood with privileges exceeding those which they had received from his
heathen predecessors, and in some respects greater than those which the
Christians enjoyed; and the orthodox subjects of Valens complained that, while
they themselves were subjected to banishment and disabilities on account of
their faith, the heathens were freely allowed to practise all the rites of
their idolatry—even the impure and frantic worship of Bacchus. In 364
Valentinian forbade nocturnal sacrifices; but on receiving a representation
that the Greeks would consider life intolerable if they were deprived of their
mysteries, he exempted these from the operation of his law. At a later period,
Valentinian and Valens were induced by political causes to prohibit all animal
sacrifices; yet the other rites of heathen worship were still permitted, and at
Rome and Alexandria, where paganism was strong, the edict was not enforced.
Under Theodosius
and the contemporary emperors of the west there was a more decided movement for
the suppression of paganism. In 381, and again in 385, Theodosius renewed the
laws against sacrifices. In 386 he sent Cynegius, the
prefect of the east, into Egypt, with a commission to shut up the temples. But
while the law spared the buildings themselves, the zeal of Christians very
often exceeded it. So long as the temples were standing, they alarmed one party
with the apprehension, and flattered the other with the hope, that a second
Julian might arise. In order to remove the occasion of such feelings, many
temples were destroyed, and in some cases it was alleged by way of pretext
(whether truly or otherwise) that sacrifice had been illegally offered in them.
The work of demolition was chiefly incited or executed by monks; in countries
where these did not abound—such as Greece—the splendid monuments of heathen
architecture were allowed to remain, whether disused, employed as churches, or
converted to secular purposes. The celebrated sophist Libanius composed a plea for the temples, which has the form of a speech addressed to
the emperor, although it was probably neither delivered before him, nor even
presented to him in writing. The orator complains of black-garbed men, more
voracious than elephants, and insatiably thirsty, although veiling their
sensuality under an artificial paleness; that, although the law forbade no part
of paganism except bloody sacrifices, these monks went about committing acts of
outrage and plunder; that they treated the priests with violence; that they
even seized lands under the pretence that they had been connected with illegal
rites; and that, if appeal were made to the shepherds in the cities (i.e. the
bishops), the complainants, instead of obtaining any redress, were told that
they had been only too gently treated. He traces all the calamities of the time
to the change of religion. He appeals to the New Testament precepts in proof
that the forcible measures of the Christians were contrary to the spirit which
their own faith inculcated. He endeavours to alarm the superstition of his
readers, by saying that the service of the ancient deities was still kept up in
Egypt, because the Christians themselves feared to risk the fertility of the
country by suppressing it.
In no long time
this last assertion was put to the test. Theophilus, bishop of Alexandria, a
violent man, whose name will be often mentioned hereafter, obtained from the
emperor a grant of a temple of Bacchus, and intended to build a church on
the site of it. In the course of digging for the foundation of the new
building, some indecent symbols used in the worship of Bacchus were found, and
these were publicly paraded in mockery of the religion to which they belonged.
The pagans, exasperated by this insult to their faith, rose in insurrection,
killed a number of Christians, and shut themselves up in the temple of Serapis,
which with its precincts formed a vast pile of building, towering over the
city, and was regarded as one of the wonders of the world. They made sallies
from time to time, slew some Christians, and carried off many prisoners, whom
they either compelled to sacrifice, or, in case of refusal, subjected to cruel
tortures; some of the prisoners were even put to death by crucifixion. On
receiving a report of the matter from the governor of Alexandria, the emperor
answered that, as the Christians who had been slain were martyrs, those who had
been concerned in their death were not to be punished, but rather, if possible,
were to be attracted to the true faith by clemency; but he ordered that the
temples of Alexandria should be destroyed. The Serapeum was deserted by its
defenders, who had been induced by the governor to attend the public reading of
the imperial rescript, and on hearing the sentence against the temples had fled
in consternation. The idol of Serapis, the tutelary deity of the city, was of
enormous size, and was adorned with jewels and with plates of gold and silver.
There was a popular belief that, if it were injured, heaven and earth would go
to wreck; and even Christians looked on with anxiety when a soldier, mounting a
ladder, raised his axe against the figure. But when it was seen that with
impunity he first struck off a cheek, and then cleft one of the knees, the
spell was at an end. The head of the god was thrown down, and a swarm of rats
rushed forth from it, exciting the disgust and derision of the crowd. The
idol was soon broken into pieces, which were dragged into the amphitheatre
and burnt. On examining the temple, a discovery was made of infamies by which
it had been polluted, and of tricks by which the priests had imposed on the
credulity of the worshippers and in consequence of this exposure many persons were
converted to the church. The pagan party, however, began to exult when it was
found that the rising of the Nile was that year delayed beyond its usual time.
The emperor was consulted : “Better”, he answered, “that it should not rise at
all, than we should buy the fertility of Egypt by idolatry”. At length the
river swelled to a more than ordinary height, and the pagans began to hope that
Serapis would avenge himself by an inundation; but they soon had the
mortification of seeing the waters subside to their proper level. The temple of
the god was demolished, and a church was built on its site, while the other
buildings of the Serapeum were preserved. In obedience to the emperor's
command, the temples were destroyed at Alexandria and throughout Egypt. The
statues were burnt or melted down, with the exception of one, which, we are
told, Theophilus preserved as an evidence against paganism, lest the adherents
of that system should afterwards deny that they had worshipped objects so
contemptible.
The old religion
was more powerful in the west than in the east. Most of the high Roman families
clung to it—not, apparently, from any real conviction of its truth, but
from a feeling of pride in maintaining the traditions of their ancestors, and
from unwillingness to undertake the labour of inquiry. A profession of paganism
was no bar to the attainment of high offices in the state; and with these the
Roman nobles, like their forefathers, ambitiously sought to combine the
dignities of the pagan hierarchy. In the capital a vast number of temples and
of smaller religious edifices was still devoted to the ancient worship; while
in the rural districts of Italy the system was maintained by the connection of
its deities with every incident in the round of agricultural labour. Bishops
are found reproaching the Christian landowners with the indifference which,
disregarding everything but money, allowed the population of their estates to
continue in the undisturbed practice of idolatry. Throughout the western
provinces generally, the old barbarian religions prevailed in some places; the
worship of the Roman gods in others. From the fact that the foundation of many
bishoprics in the west is traced to the period between the years 350 and 380,
it has been inferred that an organized attack on paganism was then first
attempted in those regions.
Gratian, in his
earlier years, maintained the principle of religious equality; but the
influence of St. Ambrose afterwards produced an important change in his policy,
so that this young emperor inflicted heavier blows on paganism than any which
his predecessors had ventured to attempt. There was in the senate-house at
Rome an altar of Victory, erected after the battle of Actium, at which the
senators took the oath of fidelity to the emperor and the laws, and on which
libations and incense were offered at the beginning of every meeting. The
removal of this altar was the only considerable act by which Constantius had
interfered with the religion of the capital; but it was restored by Julian, and
continued to hold its place until in 382 Gratian ordered that it should be
again removed. A body of senators, headed by Symmachus, the most eloquent
orator of his time—a man of eminent personal character, and distinguished by
the highest civil and religious offices,—proceeded to Milan for the purpose of
requesting that the altar might be replaced. But the Christian party in the
senate had already prepossessed the emperor's mind by means of Damasus and Ambrose; and he refused to see the envoys. At
the same time he deprived the temples of their lands, withdrew from them all
public funds, rendered it illegal to bequeath real property to them, and
stripped the vestals and heathen priests of the religious and civil privileges
which they had enjoyed. Then perhaps it may have been, and with the hope of
effectually appealing to his feelings, that a deputation of the priesthood
displayed before him the robe of the Pontifex Maximus—a dignity which had been
held by all his predecessors, as well since as before the conversion of
Constantine. But Gratian rejected it as unbefitting a Christian.
In 384 a fresh
attempt was made on the young Valentinian. Symmachus again appeared at Milan as
the chief of a deputation, and delivered to the emperor an eloquent written
pleading on behalf of the altar of Victory and of the old religion. He drew a
distinction between the emperor’s personal conviction and the duty of his
position as ruler of a state which for centuries had worshipped the gods of
paganism. He dwelt on the omens connected with the name of Victory, and traced
the famines, wars, and other calamities of recent years to the anger of the
gods on account of the withholding of their dues. He urged that it was an
unworthy act to withdraw the funds by which the pagan worship had been
maintained. He personified Rome addressing the emperor as a mother, reminding
him of her ancient glories, and professing herself unable to learn any other
religion than that by which she had acquired her greatness.
Ambrose, who, on
hearing of the application of the pagan party, had written to the emperor,
earnestly exhorting him to refuse it, followed up his letter by a formal and
elaborate reply to Symmachus. He argued that it was unlawful for a Christian
sovereign to countenance a system which he must believe to be hateful to God.
It would, he said, be a wrong to the Christian senators if they were compelled
to take a part in the sacrifices to Victory; and they must be considered
as sharing in the acts of the senate, whether they were personally present
at its meetings or not. He met the plea as to the misfortunes of the
empire by referring to those of princes who had professed idolatry. The ancient
glories of Rome (he said) could not have been derived from the worship of the
gods; for her conquered enemies had been of the same religion. Her hoary age
would become not less venerable, but more so, by her embracing the truth of the
gospel. Christianity had grown under oppression, whereas paganism, according to
the statement of its own advocates, depended for its very life on the
endowments and emoluments of the priesthood. Heathenism found a difficulty in
keeping up the number of its seven vestals, notwithstanding the high privileges
attached to the order, whereas multitudes of Christian women had voluntarily chosen
a virgin life of poverty and mortification. And what deeds of charity had
heathenism to produce against the maintenance of the needy, the redemption of
captives, and other such things which were the daily work of Christians?
In reading these
rival pleadings, we cannot but be struck by the remarkable contrast in tone
between the apologetic diffidence of Symmachus and the triumphant assurance of
Ambrose, who in his previous letter had gone so far as to tell the emperor
that, if he made the required concession to idolatry, the church would reject
him and his offerings. The cause of paganism is rested, not on the truth of
doctrine, but on an appeal to historical and patriotic associations. It is
evident that, apart from all consideration of the value of their respective
arguments, the Christian champion has already in reality gained his cause, and
that the petition of Symmachus must be—as it proved to be—unsuccessful.
The pagan party
next applied to Theodosius, when in Italy after the death of Maximus. The
emperor was at first inclined to yield, but Ambrose swayed him as he had swayed
the younger princes. Once more a pagan deputation was sent to Valentinian in
Gaul, when he was at a distance both from his colleague and from the
archbishop; but this attempt was also a failure.
In 392, an
important law was issued by Theodosius for the whole empire. With an elaborate
specification it includes all persons of every rank and in every place.
Sacrifice and divination, even although performed without any political object,
are to be regarded as treasonable, and to be capitally punished. The use of
lights, incense, garlands, or libations, and other such lesser acts of
idolatry, are to involve the forfeiture of the houses or lands where they are
committed. Heavy fines, graduated according to the position of the offenders,
are denounced against those who should enter temples; if magistrates should
offend in this respect, and their officers do not attempt to prevent them, the
officers are also to be fined.
It is probable that
the severity of this enactment may have contributed to swell the party of
Eugenius, whom the pagans hailed as a deliverer. Whether he himself apostatized
is uncertain; but his master, Arbogast, was avowedly a pagan, and during the
short period of the rhetorician-emperor’s power, the altar of Victory was
replaced, the rites of the old religion were revived in all their completeness,
and the confiscated property of the temples was restored. It has been said that
Theodosius, on visiting Rome after the defeat of Eugenius, referred the choice
between Christianity and paganism to the vote of the senate, and that the
gospel was adopted by a majority; but the story is exceedingly improbable, and
is perhaps no more than an exaggeration founded on some discussion which took
place at Milan between the emperor and a deputation of the senate.
To speak of the
age of Theodosius as having witnessed the “ruin” and the “total extinction” of
paganism is much beyond the truth. The adherents of the old religion, although
debarred from the exercise of its rites, were still allowed to enjoy perfect
freedom of thought, and the dignities of the state were open to them. The
execution of the laws against it was very partial; as they were exceeded where
the Christian party was strong, so where that party was weak they were not
enforced, and in some cases the very magistrates to whom they were addressed
were pagans. At Rome, the emperor himself was complimented, like his
predecessors, by being enrolled among the gods at his death. The statues of the
gods were not destroyed; that of Victory was still allowed to remain in
the senate-house, although the altar which had been the subject of contention
was removed. But yet the old system was evidently doomed. Its remaining
strength was not in belief but in habit. The withdrawal of public funds told on
it to a degree which would have been impossible if there had been any principle
of life in it. The priests, when attacked, succumbed in a manner which
indicated an utter want of faith and zeal. Although paganism was common among
men of letters, no one of these attempted theological controversy; their
efforts in behalf of their religion did not reach beyond pleadings for
toleration. St. Jerome speaks of the temples at Rome about this time as left to
neglect, disorder, and decay.
Among those of his
subjects who professed Christianity, Theodosius was resolved to establish unity
of religion. Immediately after the conclusion of the general council of
Constantinople, he ordered that all churches should be given up to the
Catholics, that no meetings of heretics should be held, and that no buildings
should be erected for such meetings. In 383 he summoned a conference of
bishops of all parties, with the hope of bringing them to an agreement, but the
difference of creeds was found irreconcilable, and in the same year the
emperor issued fresh edicts against the Arians. During the remaining years of
the reign, frequent laws were directed against heresy—a term which was now no
longer restricted to the denial of the leading doctrines of the faith, but was
applied also to lesser errors of doctrine and to separation from the communion
of the church. The especial objects of the emperor's animosity were Arians, Eunomians, Macedonians, Apollinarians, and Manichaeans. By various
enactments, he deprived these sectaries of all right to assemble for worship
either in cities or in the country; he confiscated all places in which they
should hold meetings; he rendered them incapable of inheriting or bequeathing
property, and inflicted other civil disabilities; he forbade them to dispute on
religion; he condemned those who should either confer or receive sectarian
ordination to pay a penalty of ten pounds weight of gold. Against some classes
of heretics he denounced confiscation and banishment; the “elect” of the
Manichaeans were even sentenced to death.
Repulsive as such
legislation is to the feelings of those who have learnt to acknowledge the
impossibility of enforcing religious belief, the effect in a great measure
answered the emperor's expectations. Neither heathenism nor sectarianism had
much inward strength to withstand the pressure of the laws which required
conformity to the church. Crowds of proselytes flocked in, and, amidst the
satisfaction of receiving these accessions, it was little asked whether in very
many cases the apparent conversion were anything better than a mask for
hypocrisy or indifference.
It would seem that
the severest edicts of Theodosius were intended only to terrify, and were never
actually executed. But the example of inflicting death as the punishment of
religious error had already been given in that part of the empire which was
subject to the usurper Maximus.
Priscillian was a
Spaniard—well-born, rich, learned, eloquent, and skilled in disputation. His
doctrines were partly derived through Elpidius, a
rhetorician, and Agape, a lady of rank, from an Egyptian named Mark, who had
travelled into Spain. They are described as a compound of various
heresies—Manichaeism, Gnosticism, Arianism, Photinianism,
and Sabellianism—to which was added the practice of astrology and magic. That Priscillian held a dualistic principle appears certain. He
admitted the whole canon of Scripture, but by means of allegory, or by altering
the text, overcame the difficulties of such parts as did not agree with his
system; and like some of the gnostic parties in an earlier age, he relied
mainly on some apocryphal writings. His followers are said to have regarded
falsehood as allowable for the purpose of concealing their real tenets; they
attended the churches, and received the Eucharistic elements, but did not
consume them. Priscillian’s precepts were rigidly
ascetic; he prescribed separation for married persons; but, like other
heresiarchs, he is charged with secretly teaching sensuality and impurity.
It was about the
year 378 that the progress of Priscillianism, especially among the female sex,
began to attract notice, and in 380-1 it was condemned by a council of Spanish
and Aquitanian bishops at Saragossa. Two bishops, however, Salvian and Instantius, took part with Priscillian,
and, being reinforced by Hyginus of Cordova, who had once been a vehement
opponent of his views, they consecrated him to the see of Avila. The opposite
party appealed to the secular power, and, by order of Gratian, the heresiarch
and his consecrators were banished from Spain. With the hope of obtaining
a reversal of this sentence, Priscillian set out for
Rome in company with Salvian and Instantius.
In their progress through Aquitania they gained many proselytes, especially at
the episcopal city of Elusa (Eauze).
At Bordeaux the bishop prevented their entrance into the town, but they found a
welcome in the neighbourhood from Euchrotia, the
widow of a distinguished poet and orator named Delphidius;
and as they moved onwards they were attended by her, with her daughter Procula, and a numerous train of female converts. On
arriving at Rome they were unable to obtain an audience of Damasus,
and there Salvian died. His companions returning
northward, found themselves opposed at Milan by the influence of Ambrose; but
by means of bribes and solicitations to persons in high office, they procured
from Gratian an order for their restoration to their sees. The proconsul of
Spain was won by similar means, and Ithacius and Idacius, the leaders of the opposite party, were banished
from that country as disturbers of the public peace.
During the
remainder of Gratian's reign, Ithacius, a bold and
able man, but of sensual and worldly habits, found himself unable to contend
against the corruption by which the Priscillianists influenced the court. When, however, his case appeared desperate, fresh hopes
were excited by the report that Maximus had been proclaimed in Britain; and,
when the usurper was established at Treves, after the murder of Gratian, Ithacius brought the question before him. Maximus referred
it to a council, which was held at Bordeaux. By this assembly Instantius was first heard, and was condemned; whereupon Priscillian, when required to defend himself, appealed to
the emperor, and the council allowed the appeal.
Priscillian and his accusers
repaired to Treves, where Martin, bishop of Tours, the “apostle of the Gauls”— famed for his sanctity, his miracles, and his
successful exertions against idolatry—arrived about the same time. Martin
repeatedly implored Ithacius to desist from
prosecuting the heretics before a secular tribunal, on which Ithacius told him that he too was a Priscillianite.
Martin also represented to the emperor that the trial of an ecclesiastical
offence before secular judges was unexampled, and entreated that the matter
might be settled in the usual way, by the deposition of the leading heretics
from their sees, according to the ecclesiastical condemnation which had been
passed on them. His influence was powerful enough to delay the trial while he
remained at Treves; and on taking leave of Maximus he obtained a promise that
the lives of the accused should be safe. But the usurper was afterwards
induced—it is said, by the hope of seizing on Priscillian’s property—to depart from this resolution. The heretics were brought to trial,
and by the use of torture were wrought to a confession of impure doctrines and
practices. Ithacius, after having urged on the
prosecution with great bitterness until the case was virtually decided,
devolved the last formal part of the work on a lay advocate—professing that his
own episcopal character forbade him to proceed in a cause of blood. Priscillian, Euchrotia, and five
of their companions were condemned to death and were beheaded. Instantius was banished to the Scilly islands, and others
of the party were sentenced to banishment or confiscation.
Martin again
visited the court of Maximus in order to plead for the lives of some of
Gratian’s officers, at a time when a number of bishops were assembled for the
consecration of Felix to the see of Treves. These bishops, with only one
exception, freely communicated with the instigators of the late proceedings,
who, fearing the influence of Martin, attempted, although unsuccessfully, to
prevent his entering the city. Maximus endeavoured, by elaborate attentions, to
draw him into communicating with Ithacius and his
party; but the bishop of Tours firmly refused, and they parted in anger. Late
at night, Martin was informed that orders had been given for the execution of
the officers in whom he was interested, and that two military commissioners
were about to be sent into Spain, with orders to extirpate Priscillianism. The
information struck him with dismay, not only on account of the peril to
Gratian's adherents, but because, from the manner in which he himself and
others had been charged with Priscillianism by Ithacius,
he knew that the imputation of that heresy would be used as a pretext against
orthodox persons of ascetic life; in great anxiety he made his way to the
emperor’s presence, where, on condition that Gratian’s officers should be
spared, and that the commission against Priscillianism should be revoked, he
promised to communicate with the Thracians. Martin shared, accordingly, in the
consecration of Felix next day, but refused to sign the act, and immediately
left Treves. It is related that, as he was on his way homewards, thinking
sadly on his late compliance, an angel appeared to him, who consoled him, but
told him he had acted wrongly. From that time, says his biographer, Martin felt
in himself an abatement of the power of miracles; and for the remaining sixteen
years of his life he avoided all councils and assemblies of bishops.
The execution of Priscillian and his companions was regarded with general
horror, alike by Christians and by pagans. St. Ambrose, when on his second
mission to Treves, chose rather to risk and to forfeit his object than to
communicate with Maximus and the bishops who had been concerned in the deed of
blood. Siricius, bishop of Rome, joined in the
condemnation of the party which had acted with Ithacius;
and their leader was deposed, and died in exile.
Priscillianism did
not at once become extinct. The church of France was long disturbed by
dissensions which arose out of it. The heresiarch's body was carried from
Treves into his native country, where it was reverenced by his partisans as
that of a martyr; and his name was used by them in oaths. Many members of the
sect were reunited to the church after a council held at Toledo in 400, but a
remnant of it is mentioned as still existing at the date of the first council
of Braga, in 561.
Ç
CHAPTER VI
SUPPLEMENTARY.
While the empire
was distracted by the Arian controversy, the gospel penetrated into some
countries beyond the bounds of the Roman power.
Whatever may have
been the effect produced in his native country by the conversion of Queen
Candace's treasurer, recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, it would appear to
have been transitory; and the Ethiopian or Abyssinian church owes its origin to
an expedition made early in the fourth century by Meropius,
a philosopher of Tyre, for the purpose of scientific inquiry. On his voyage
homewards, he and his companions were attacked at a place where they had landed
in search of water, and all were massacred except two youths, Edesius and Frumentius, the relatives and pupils of Meropius. These were carried to the king of the
country, who advanced Edesius to be his cupbearer,
and Frumentius to be his secretary and treasurer. On the death of the king, who
left a boy as his heir, the two strangers, at the request of the widowed queen,
acted as regents of the kingdom until the prince came of age. Edesius then returned to Tyre, where he became a presbyter.
Frumentius, who, with the help of such Christian traders as visited the
country, had already introduced the Christian doctrine and worship into
Abyssinia, repaired to Alexandria, related his story to Athanasius, and
requested that a bishop might be sent to follow up the work; whereupon
Athanasius, considering that no one could be so fit for the office as
Frumentius himself, consecrated him to the bishopric of Axum. The church thus
founded continues to this day subject to the see of Alexandria— “drinking”, as
the Abyssinians themselves express it, “of the patriarch’s well”. Its
metropolitan is always an Egyptian monk, chosen and consecrated by the Coptic
patriarch
After the
expulsion of Athanasius from his see in 356, Constantius wrote to the princes
of Axum, desiring that they would not shelter the fugitive, and also that
Frumentius might be sent to Alexandria, to receive instruction in the faith
from the Arian bishop, George. Athanasius, however, was safe among the monks of
Egypt, and it does not appear that the request as to Frumentius met with any
attention.
An Arian
missionary, named Theophilus, is celebrated by the historian of his party, Philostorgius, while his labours are not unnaturally
overlooked by the orthodox writers. He was a native of the island of Diu,
and, having been sent as a hostage to the imperial court, was consecrated as a
bishop by Eusebius of Nicomedia. Theophilus preached in southern Arabia, and
apparently also in Abyssinia and India, as well as in his native island. In
India he is said to have found the remains of an older Christianity, which Philostorgius describes as heteroousian,
(i.e., holding that the Persons of the Godhead differ in
essence)—an assertion which seems to have had no other foundation than the fact
that the Indians were unacquainted with the terms which had been introduced
into the language of orthodox theology since the rise of the Arian controversy.
The conversion of
the Iberians or Georgians is referred to the reign of Constantine. Some of
these barbarians, on an incursion into the empire, had carried off among their
captives a pious Christian woman, whose religious exercises and mortifications
were observed with surprise and awe. After a time, a child—one of the king's
children, according to Socrates—fell sick, and, agreeably to the custom of the
country, was carried from one woman to another, in the hope that some one of
them might be able to cure him. The captive, on being at length consulted,
disclaimed all knowledge of physic, but, laying the child on a couch, said, “Christ,
who healed many, will heal this child also”; when, at her prayer, the boy
recovered. The queen was soon after cured in like manner; and the captive
refused all recompense. Next day the king, while hunting among the mountains,
found himself enveloped in a thick mist or darkness. After having called or his
gods in vain, he bethought himself of applying to the stranger's God, and the
darkness immediately cleared away. Other miracles are added to the story. The
king and queen gave their people the example of conversion, and the Iberians,
on application to Constantine, were supplied with a bishop and clergy
The Christian
communities of Persia have been mentioned as existing in the earlier period.
The faith continued to make progress in that country; and Constantine, soon
after declaring his own conversion, wrote in favour of the Christians to Sapor
II, who was king of Persia from 309 to 381. But the progress of a rival
religion was watched with jealousy and alarm by the magi; and on the breaking
out of a war between Sapor and Constantius, they represented to the king that
the converts were attached to the Roman interest. A persecution was begun by
Sapor’s subjecting the Christians to special and oppressive taxes. Their chief,
Simeon, bishop of Seleucia and Ctesiphon, was then seized, and was tarried into
the presence of the king, who required him to conform to the national religion,
and, on his refusal, sentenced him to imprisonment. As he was led away, Uthazanes, an old eunuch, who had lately been persuaded to
renounce Christianity, saluted him reverentially; but the bishop turned
away his face. Uthazanes, deeply affected by the
reproach, broke out into lamentation—“If my old and intimate friend thus
disowns me, what may I expect from my God whom I have denied?”. For these words
he was summoned before the king, and, after having withstood both threats and
entreaties, was condemned to death. Uthazanes had
brought up Sapor; he now begged a favour for the sake of his old kindness—that
it might be proclaimed that he was not guilty of treason, but was executed
solely for being a Christian. The king willingly assented, in the hope that the
declaration would deter his subjects from Christianity; but an opposite effect
followed, as the sight of the courage which could sacrifice even life for the
gospel induced many to embrace the Christian faith. Simeon and many others were
put to death. In the following year the severity of the persecution was
increased; and notices of martyrdoms are found from time to time throughout the
remainder of Sapor's reign.
We have already
seen that the gospel was introduced among the Goths by captives who were
carried off during the reigns of Valerian and Gallienus.
Theophilus, bishop of the Goths, was among the members of the Nicene council, and
seems to have been the immediate predecessor of Ulfilas,
who, notwithstanding his Teutonic name, is said to have been descended from
Cappadocian captives. Ulfilas was probably
born in 318, and was consecrated as a bishop at the age of thirty—perhaps
while employed on a legation to the emperor Constantius, in 348. In 355 the
persecution of Athanaric, judge or prince of the
Ostrogoths, who regarded the profession of Christianity as a token of
inclination to the Roman interest, compelled the bishop to lead a large body of
Goths across the Danube, and seek a refuge within the empire; and it would seem
that this exodus, as well as his labours and influence among his people,
contributed to suggest the title which was bestowed on him by Constantius,—“the
Moses of the Goths”. About fifteen years later the persecution was renewed, and
many of Athanaric’s subjects, who had embraced
Christianity, were put to death. In 376 Ulfilas was
employed by Fritigern, prince of the Visigoths—the
division of the Gothic nation to which he himself belonged, and among which his
labours had been chiefly exercised—to negotiate with Valens for permission to
settle within the imperial territories; and on the revolt of the nation
against their new protectors, he was sent on an unsuccessful mission to the
emperor immediately before the battle of Adrianople. The death of Ulfilas took place in 388, at Constantinople, where he was
endeavouring to mediate with Theodosius in behalf of his Arian subjects.
Ulfilas employed civilization as the
handmaid of religion. To him his countrymen were indebted for the invention of
an alphabet, and for a translation of the Scriptures—from which, it is said,
the books of Samuel and Kings were excluded, lest their warlike contents should
be found too congenial to the ferocity of the barbarians. The Goths received
their bishop's words as law and through his influence they were unhappily drawn
away from the orthodox faith, which they had at first professed. The date and
the circumstances of this change are subjects of much disputed Ulfilas, indeed, appears to have been more distinguished
for practical efficiency than for theological knowledge, and to have
imperfectly apprehended the importance of the question between Arianism and
Nicene orthodoxy. He is known to have been associated with Acacius and Eudoxius at
Constantinople in 360, and to have signed the creed of Rimini; but it would
seem that he nevertheless kept up his connection with the Catholics after that
time, and that the distinct profession of Arianism among the Goths did not take
place until the reign of Valens, when it became a condition of their admission
into the emperor's dominions. When that heresy had been ejected from the
church—when it had ceased to be debated in councils and to exercise the learning
and the acumen of cultivated theologians—it gained a new importance as being
the creed of the barbarian multitudes who overran the empire.
The existence of
lately-founded churches among the Saracens on the borders of Arabia is
mentioned by Eusebius. The roving bands of this wild people were greatly
impressed by the life of the monks who had retired to the deserts, and they
visited them with reverence. In the reign of Valens, a Saracen queen, named Mavia, who had been at war with the Romans, stipulated as a
condition of peace that Moses, a solitary of renowned sanctity, should be given
to her nation as bishop. Moses reluctantly consented to undertake the office,
but absolutely refused to receive consecration from Lucius, the Arian bishop of
Alexandria; and he was eventually consecrated by some of the orthodox bishops
who were in exile.
RELATIONS OF CHURCH AND STATE.
For nearly three
hundred years the church had been providentially left to develop itself as a
society unconnected with the powers of this world, and by the time when
its faith was adopted by the emperors of Rome, it had attained the condition of
a great independent body, with a regular and settled organization. But,
although it had thus far appeared as separate, it was not incapable of a connection
with the state, in which the religious element should hallow the secular, while
the secular power in turn should lend its influence for the advancement of
religion. There was, however, danger lest, in such a connection, one or both of
the parties should forget that the church is not a function of the state, but
is itself a divinely-instituted spiritual kingdom; and, while it was thus
possible that ecclesiastics might rely too much on the secular power, there was
also the opposite danger, that they might assume towards it an authority
professedly derived from heaven, but really unwarranted by any Christian
principle.
When Constantine
became a convert to the gospel, the change found both parties imperfectly
prepared for understanding the relations which resulted from it. It was likely
that the emperor, who was by office Pontifex Maximus—the highest minister of
heathen religion, and knowing no authority in that system more sacred than his
own,—would be unwilling to accept, or even unable to conceive, the different
position which was assigned to him in his new communion. It was likely that the
clergy, unused as they had hitherto been to intercourse with persons of such
exalted rank, would be dazzled on finding themselves invited to associate with
the sovereign of the Roman world, and would be disposed to allow him an undue
control in spiritual affairs. Yet on the other hand, as Constantine became
their pupil in religion, the power nominally exercised by the emperor was
virtually wielded by those ecclesiastics who for the time held possession
of his mind. And although the party which had the ascendency during the last
years of his reign, and throughout that of Constantius, lent itself unduly to
the assumptions of the emperors, yet this servility was not without some good
effect, inasmuch as the imperial interference, however objectionable in itself,
was thus veiled under the appearance of regular ecclesiastical proceedings. The
deprivations, ejections, and intrusions of bishops were sanctioned by
subservient synods; so that, in respect of form, the age of Constantine and
Constantius has not left the embarrassing precedents which would have resulted
if the temporal power had been arrayed on one side and the church on the other,
without the intervention of a secular, unscrupulous, and numerous faction of
ecclesiastics. And, lamentable as it is that, almost in the first years of the
connection between church and state, the emperor should be seen on the side of
heterodoxy, even this also had its advantage. Whereas the patronage and
co-operation of the court might have lulled the orthodox into security, and
they might thus have silently and unconsciously yielded up their rights, as
suspecting no evil from a friend, the disfavour and discountenance which they
met with guarded them against such submission; they were forced to declare at
the earliest stage that the power of the emperor in spiritual things was not
unlimited. And it may be matter of instruction and of comfort in later
times, to know that any difficulties which may be experienced in dealing with
those earthly powers to which Christians are bound to yield a willing obedience
in all lawful things, were not without a parallel in that very age to which the
imagination might be disposed to attribute almost an ideal perfection in
respect of the relations between the church and the state.
Eusebius speaks of
Constantine as a “kind of general bishop”, and elsewhere relates that the
emperor once told some of his episcopal guests that, as they were bishops
within the church, so he himself was bishop without it. The meaning of these
words has been disputed with a zeal which would attribute too much both of
precision and of importance to a saying sportively uttered at table; but it is
at least certain that Constantine acted as if he believed himself entitled to
watch over the church, to determine which of conflicting opinions was orthodox,
and to enforce theological decisions by the strength of the secular power. His
own appearance in the council of Nicaea while he was yet unbaptized, the
presidency of Constantius, while only a catechumen, at the council of Antioch,
and his deputation of lay officers to control the synods of Rimini and
Seleucia, are instances of the manner in which the imperial superintendence was
exerted. And yet (as has been before observed) in all these cases, whatever
there may have been of lay control, the formal decision of matters was left to
the voice of the bishops. The pains which were taken to draw prelates of high
personal or official authority—such as Athanasius, Hosius,
and Liberius— into a compliance with the measures of
the court, are also a remarkable testimony to the importance which was attached
to the episcopal judgments.
The introduction
of general councils contributed greatly to increase the imperial influence.
These assemblies were necessarily summoned by the emperor, since no spiritual
authority possessed the universal jurisdiction which was requisite for the
purpose; their decisions were confirmed by him, promulgated with his sanction,
and enforced by civil penalties of his appointment.
The emperor was
regarded as the highest judge in all causes. The bishops of Rome considered it
a distinction to be allowed to plead for themselves before his judgment-seat,
after the example of St. Paul. But it soon began to be felt that both
bishops and presbyters were disposed to carry to the imperial tribunal matters
in which the judgment of their brethren had been, or was likely to be,
pronounced against them. In order to check this, the council of Antioch, in
341, and that of Sardica, in 347, passed canons, by
which it was forbidden to haunt the court under pretext of suits, or to appeal
to the emperor except with the consent of the metropolitan and other bishops of
the province to which the appellant belonged. In the earlier times, it had been
usual for Christians, in order to avoid the scandal of exposing their
differences before heathen tribunals, to submit them to the arbitration of the
bishops. The influence which the bishops had thus acquired was greatly
increased by a law which is usually (though perhaps erroneously) referred to
Constantine. It was ordered that, if both parties in a case consented to submit
it to the episcopal decision, the sentence should be without appeal; and the
secular authorities were charged to carry it out. Many later enactments relate
to this subject. In some canons, persons who should decline the bishop's
jurisdiction are censured as showing a want of charity towards the brethren. By
this power of arbitration, the bishops were drawn into much secular business,
and incurred the risk of enmity and obloquy. To some of them the judicial
employment may possibly have been more agreeable than the more spiritual parts
of their function; but many, like St. Augustine, felt it as a grievous burden
and distraction, and some relieved themselves of the labour by appointing
clerical or lay delegates to act for them.
Constantius in 355
enacted that bishops should be tried only by members of their own order—i.e.,
in synods. But this privilege was limited by Gratian, who in 376 ordered that
matters which concerned religion and ecclesiastical discipline should belong to
bishops and ecclesiastical synods, but that criminal jurisdiction should be
reserved to the secular courts; and such was the general principle of the age.
As, however, crimes are also sins, and the boundaries which separate
ecclesiastical from secular questions are not always easy to determine, there
arose frequent cases of difficulty between secular punishment and
ecclesiastical penance; indeed, the legislation of the early part of the fifth
century on this subject is inconsistent with itself—showing at once the
weakness of the emperors and the watchfulness of the ecclesiastical
authorities. In cases of crime the clerical office was not as yet supposed to
carry with it any exemption from the secular jurisdiction.
The influence of
the gospel, which had perhaps begun in some degree to affect the Roman
legislation even while paganism was yet the religion of the state, was now
more directly and more powerfully exerted in this respect. Moral offences, of
which former legislation had taken no notice, were denounced; and at the same
time a humaner spirit is found to interpose for the
protection of the weak, for the restraint of oppression, and for the mitigation
of cruel punishments. The bishops were often charged by law with the duty of
befriending various classes of persons who might stand in need of assistance;
thus a law of Honorius, in 409, which orders that judges should on every Sunday
examine prisoners as to the treatment which they received, imposes on the
bishops the duty of superintending its execution. As magistrates became
Christian, the church exercised a supervision over them which was of
considerable effect; and sometimes the clergy pronounced its censures on local
governors who had exercised their power tyrannically. Thus Athanasius
excommunicated a governor of Libya; and Synesius,
bishop of Ptolemais, a generation later, excommunicated Andronicus, governor of
Pentapolis.
Intercession for
offenders became an acknowledged duty and privilege of the clergy, who often
successfully interfered to save the lives of criminals in the hope that penance
might enable them to make their peace with heaven. But this right of
intercession was liable to abuse and corruption. Some of the clergy sold their
influence for money; monks and others, in the latter part of the century,
carried their extravagance so far as forcibly to rescue malefactors on the way
to execution; and laws were enacted to check such perverse and disorderly
exhibitions of humanity.
The privilege of
asylum, which had belonged to some temples, became attached to all churches;
and although the earliest laws on the subject date only from the last years of
the century, they recognize the privilege as having long before existed on the
ground of popular opinion. In the state of society which then was, the
institution had many important uses; but corruptions naturally crept in, and
against these edicts were issued. Thus Theodosius enacted in 392 that public
debtors who took refuge in churches should be delivered up, or else that their
debts should be paid by the bishop who sheltered them. The younger Theodosius,
in 431-2, while he extended the right of sanctuary to the whole precinct which
surrounded churches, found it expedient at the same time to guard the privilege
against some misuses; and in the following century further restrictions were
imposed by Justinian.
The Hierarchy.
Of the changes
among the lower clergy during this period (besides the creation of some new
offices which were required by the necessities of the church) may be mentioned
the institution of two local fraternities: the copiatae of
Constantinople and the parabolani of
Alexandria.
The copiatae or fossarii (grave-diggers)
were employed in burying the dead—especially the Christian poor, whose
interment was free of cost; their number was 1100 under Constantine, but was
reduced to 950 by a law of the younger Theodosius. It appears that similar
guilds were established in other populous cities. The parabolani (so
called from the hazardous nature of their duties) were appointed to attend on
the sick. In the dissensions of the Alexandrian church they acquired a
character for turbulence, so that in 416 the inhabitants of the city preferred
a complaint against them to Theodosius the Second. The parabolani were therefore laid under some restraints by the emperor, and their number was
reduced to 500; but two years later it was raised to 600. Both the copiatae and theparabolani were
reckoned as belonging to the clergy, and enrolment among them was sought for
the sake of the privileges and exemptions which were attached to it. In many
cases the membership appears to have been honorary—persons of wealth paying for
admission, enjoying the immunities, and taking no share in the duties. Against
this corruption a law of Theodosius II was directed.
The deacons, whose
number in some of the greater churches was still limited to seven, acquired an
increase of importance in proportion to the greater wealth which was entrusted
to their administration. The power of baptizing and of preaching was now
occasionally conferred on them, and some of them even took on themselves the
priestly function as to the consecration of the Eucharist; but this usurpation
was strongly forbidden. In some cases they claimed precedence of the
presbyters, and would have regarded it as a degradation to be ordained to the
presbyterate, so that canons were even found necessary to check their
assumptions. In every considerable church one of the deacons presided over the
rest. It is uncertain at what time this office of archdeacon was introduced :
at Carthage it would seem to have been towards the end of the third
century, as it is not mentioned by St. Cyprian, whereas, about fifty years
later, Cecilian is described as archdeacon to Mensurius. The distinction of one deacon above his brethren
may perhaps have been originally a matter of personal eminence, and may have
afterwards come to be established as official. The archdeacon was appointed by
the bishop; he was his chief assistant in the government of the church, and was
generally regarded as likely to succeed to the bishopric. In the end of the
fourth century a similar presidency over the presbyters was given in some churches
to an archpriest (archipresbyter) —to whom the
administration of the diocese was intrusted in the absence or incapacity of the
bishop.
The position of
the chorepiscopi was found to excite the jealousy of the superior bishops.
Their functions were therefore more strictly limited by canons, and in some
quarters a movement was made for the suppression of the office. The council of
Laodicea forbids the appointment of bishops in villages and country places; it
orders that, in their stead, presbyters with the title of periodentae (circuit-visitors)—answering to the archdeacons or rural deans of our own
church—should be employed, and that the chorepiscopi already ordained should do
nothing without the approbation of the city bishops. In the following century,
however, chorepiscopi are mentioned as sitting in the council of Chalcedon,
although only as delegates of other bishops; and the title is found much later,
both in the east and in the west. Thus, the second council of Nicaea, in 787,
speaks of chorepiscopi as ordaining readers by permission of the bishops,—a
notice which seems to imply that they then belonged to the order of presbyters,
and were much the same with the periodeutae intended
by the Laodicean canon. The western chorepiscopi of the eighth and ninth
centuries will come under our notice hereafter.
The system of
distinctions within the order of bishops was now carried out more fully than in
the former period. The religious divisions of the Roman world had generally
followed the civil divisions, although this rule was not without exceptions;
and thus, when Constantine introduced a new partition of the empire into
dioceses, each of which embraced several provinces, a nearly corresponding
arrangement naturally followed in the church. The bishop of the chief city in
each diocese rose to a pre-eminence above the other metropolitans. These
bishops usually received in the east the title of exarch, and in the west that
of primate; the most eminent of them were afterwards styled patriarchs—a title
which had formerly been given to all bishops, and of which the new and
restricted sense appears to have been adopted from the Jews. The degree of
authority exercised by patriarchs or exarchs was not uniform. It was greatest
at Alexandria, where the patriarch had the right of consecrating all the
bishops of Egypt and Libya without the intervention of metropolitans. The
bishop of Rome had a like power within his narrower jurisdiction, where, as in
Egypt, the grade of metropolitans had not yet been introduced; but in other countries
it was usual that the chief bishop should consecrate the metropolitans, and
that these should consecrate the inferior bishops.
With the
introduction of the larger ecclesiastical divisions came that of synods
collected from their whole extent. The patriarchs or exarchs presided; and
these councils became the highest ordinary authorities in the affairs of the
church.
The council of
Nicaea recognizes three principal sees—Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch—as
presiding over the churches in their respective quarters. Each of these three
was at once the church of a great capital, and was reckoned to have the honour
of apostolical foundation. From the time when Constantine raised Byzantium to
its new dignity, the bishopric of that city, which had previously been subject
to the metropolitan of Heraclea, the civil capital of Thrace, necessarily
became an important position, insomuch that, even before any formal grant of
ecclesiastical privileges or precedence had as yet been conferred on it, Eudoxius was supposed to be promoted by a translation to
Constantinople from the great and venerable see of Antioch. The second general
council enacted that the bishop of Constantinople should stand next to the
bishop of Rome, “forasmuch as it is a new Rome”—a reason which clearly shows
that, in the opinion of the assembled bishops, the secular greatness of the old
capital was the ground on which its ecclesiastical precedence rested. The
honour thus bestowed on Constantinople was not, however, accompanied by any
gift of jurisdiction.
The causes which,
during the earlier period, had acquired for Rome a pre-eminence over all other
churches were, in the fourth century, reinforced by new and important
circumstances. Although within his own city the bishop was restrained by the
prevalence of heathenism among the nobility, the removal of the court gave him
a position of independence and importance beyond what he could have
obtained if the imperial splendour had been displayed on the same scene with
his own dignity; and the Arian controversies greatly increased his influence in
relation to the whole church. In the distractions of the eastern Christians,
the alliance of the west was strongly desired by each party. The bishop of
Rome, as being the chief pastor in the western church, naturally became the
organ of communication with his oriental brethren, to whom he appeared as the
representative of the whole west, and almost as wielding its entire authority.
Even where one of the oriental parties protested against his
interference, the Roman bishop gained by the application of the other
party for his aid, or by its consent to his proceedings. Except during the
temporary lapse of Liberius, the Roman influence was
steadily on the side of orthodoxy, and as Rome thus stood in honourable
contrast with the variations of the eastern bishops, its constancy acquired for
it strength as well as credit, and the triumph of the cause which it had
espoused contributed to the elevation of the see. Moreover, the old civil
analogy introduced a practice of referring for advice to Rome from all parts of
the west. The earliest extant answer to such an application is the synodical
letter of Siricius to Himerius,
bishop of Tarragona. But by degrees these “decretal epistles” rose more and
more from a tone of advice to one of direction and command; and they were no
longer written in the name of a synod, but in that of the pope alone.
The records of
this time, however, while they show the progress of Rome towards the position
which she afterwards attained, are utterly subversive of the pretence that that
position belonged to her from the beginning, and by virtue of divine
appointment. Thus, when the council of Nicaea, with a view to the schism of the
Egyptian Meletius, ordained that the bishop of
Alexandria should, agreeably to ancient custom, have jurisdiction over Egypt,
Libya, and the Pentapolis, “forasmuch as this is also customary for the Roman
bishop”—and further, that “in Antioch and in other provinces the privileges of
churches should be preserved”—it is evident that no other right over his
suffragans is ascribed to the bishop of Rome than that which is also
acknowledged to belong to the bishop of Alexandria; and that the privileges of
these and of other sees are alike referred to ancient usage as their common
foundation.
Again, when the
council of Sardica enacted that any bishop who should
wish to appeal from a synod might, with the consent of his judges, apply to
Julius, bishop of Rome, and that, if the bishop of Rome thought fit, a new
trial should be granted1—it is clear that the power assigned to the Roman
bishop is not recognized is one which he before possessed, but was then
conferred by the council. The bishop of Rome had no power of evoking the cause
from before another tribunal; he had no personal voice in the decision; he
could only receive appeals on the application of the councils from which they
were made—the power of making such appeals being limited to bishops—and
commit the trial of them to the bishops bordering on the appellant's province,
with the addition, if he should think fit, of legates representing himself.
Moreover, as the council of Sardica was composed of
western bishops only, there was no pretext for enforcing this canon on the
eastern church; and, as the occasion which led to the enactment was temporary,
so the mention of Julius by name, without any reference to his successors,
seems to indicate that the power conferred was temporary and personal, and was
granted in consideration of the pledges which the Roman bishop had given for
his adherence to the orthodox cause. Indeed, it may be said that this power was
only such as in ordinary circumstances would have been acknowledged to belong
to the emperor, and that it was transferred to Julius, because the exercise of
it could not be safely left in the hands of the Arian Constantius. In like
manner, when Gratian, in 378, with a view of withdrawing the partisans of Ursicinus from secular tribunals, acceded to the request of
a Roman synod that the judgment of them should be committed to Damasus, the temporary and special nature of the grant is
inconsistent with any such idea as that the jurisdiction of which it speaks had
before belonged to the bishops of Rome, or was an ordinary prerogative of
their office.
The old Latin
version of the Nicene canons, and Rufinus in his
summary of them, define the jurisdiction of the Roman bishop as extending over
the “suburbicarian churches”. The name of suburbicarian was given to the
provinces which composed the civil diocese of Rome—the seven provinces of
middle and lower Italy, with the islands of Corsica, Sardinia, and Sicily. To
these the patriarchate of Rome was then limited—Milan, Aquileia, and afterwards
Ravenna, being independent centres of ecclesiastical government. And since both
language and historical facts combine to support this view, it needless to
consider seriously such constructions of the, canon as that which would
persuade us that by the “suburbicarian churches” were meant all those of the
western empire, or even all the churches of the world!
The interference
of the Roman bishop was still resisted whenever he attempted to invade the
privileges of other churches. The African and the eastern churches acted
throughout in entire independence of the Roman authority, and frequent canons
were made against carrying causes out of the provinces to which they belonged.
There was no idea of any divine right of superiority to other churches; for,
although it was often said that the bishop of Rome ought to be honoured as the
successor of St. Peter, that apostle himself was not yet regarded as more than
the first among equals, nor were his successors supposed to have inherited any
higher distinction above their brethren in the episcopate.
From the time of
Constantine the members of the Christian ministry attained a new social
position, with secular advantages which had until then been unknown. The
exemption from curial offices, which was granted to them by the first Christian
emperor, was, indeed, withdrawn or limited by his successors; but they
enjoyed a valuable privilege in their freedom from all ‘sordid’ offices, and
from some of the public imposts, although still liable to the land-tax, and to
most of the ordinary burdens. The taxes to be paid by ecclesiastics who were
engaged in trade were regulated by laws of Constantius, Valentinian, and
Gratian; and from the fact that such laws were passed, rather than a
prohibition of trading, it may probably be inferred that resources of this kind
were still necessary for the support of some among the clergy. The wealth of the
body, however, was vastly increased. Constantine, besides munificent
occasional gifts, bestowed on them a stated allowance of corn, which was
revoked by Julian. Jovian restored a third part of this, and promised to add
the rest when the cessation of a famine then raging should enable him to do so;
but his reign ended before he could fulfill his intention, and the promise was disregarded by his successors. Tithes
were now paid—not, however, by legal compulsion, but as a voluntary offering,
so that we need not wonder to find complaints of difficulty and irregularity in
the payment; and a very great addition of riches flowed in on the church in
consequence of the law of Constantine which allowed it to receive bequests of
property.
These changes
naturally operated for evil as well as for good. For the sake of the secular
benefits connected with the ministry, many unfit persons sought ordination;
while the higher dignities of the church became objects of ambition for men
whose qualifications were not of a spiritual kind. At the election of a bishop,
unworthy arts were employed by candidates; accusations which, whether true or
false, give no agreeable idea of the prevailing tone of morals, were very
commonly brought by each faction against the favourite of its opponents; and
disgraceful tumults often took place.
The intercourse of
courts was a trial for the bishops; while in many it naturally produced
subserviency, in others it led to a mistaken exaltation of spiritual dignity in
opposition to secular rank. Thus, it is told with admiration that St. Martin of
Tours, when at the court of Maximus, allowed the empress to wait on him
at table; and that, when the emperor had desired him to drink first, and
expected to receive the cup back from him, the bishop passed it to his own
chaplain, as being higher in honour than any earthly potentate.
Luxury and pride
increased among the clergy of the great cities. St. Jerome agrees with Ammianus
Marcellinus as to the excessive pomp by which the Roman hierarchy was
distinguished, the splendour of their dress and equipages, the sumptuousness of
their feasts; while the heathen historian bears a testimony which is above
suspicion to the contrast presented by the virtue, simplicity, and self-denial
of the provincial bishops and clergy in general. Praetextatus,
an eminent pagan magistrate, who was concerned in suppressing the feuds of Damasus and Ursicinus,
sarcastically told Damasus that he himself would
forthwith turn Christian, if he might have the bishopric of Rome. The emperors
found it necessary to restrain by law the practices of monks and clergy for
obtaining gifts and legacies. Thus Valentinian, by a law which was addressed to Damasus, and was read in all the churches of the
capital, enacted that ecclesiastics and monks should not haunt the houses of
widows or of female wards; and that they should not accept anything by donation
or will from women who were connected with them by spiritual ties. Jerome, who
draws many lively pictures of the base devices by which some of his brethren
insinuated themselves into the favour of wealthy and aged persons, says, with
reference to this edict, “I do not complain of the law, but I grieve that we
should have deserved it”. Other acts followed, annulling all dispositions of
property which women on professing a religious life might make to the prejudice
of their natural heirs, and guarding against the evasions which might be
attempted by means of fictitious trusteeships. Such bequests were, however,
discouraged and often refused by the more conscientious bishops, such as St.
Ambrose and St. Augustine. And while we note the facts which show how in this
age, as in every other, the church but too truly realized those parables which
represent it as containing a mixture of evil amidst its good, we must not
overlook the noble spirit of munificence and self-denial which animated
multitudes of its bishops and clergy, or their exertions in such works of piety
and charity as the relief of the poor, the redemption of captives, the erection
of hospitals, and the adornment of the divine worship.
The changes of the
fourth century tended to depress the popular element in the church. By the
acknowledgment of their religion on the part of the state, by the increase of
wealth, by their intercourse with personages of the highest rank, by the
frequency of synods collected from large divisions of the church, and limited
to their own order, by the importance which accrued to them when questions of
theology entered into politics, and agitated the whole empire—the bishops were
raised to a greater elevation than before above the other orders of the
clergy. The administration of the church was more thrown into their hands; and
in the election of bishops the influence of the order became greater, chiefly
in consequence of the factions of the people. Thus, when a vacant see was
disputed by exasperated parties, it often happened that the prelates whose
business it was to ratify the election, suggested a third candidate by way of
compromise, and that their nomination was accepted. In some cases the election,
instead of being held in the city for which a bishop was to be appointed, was
transferred to the metropolis of the province. The privilege of choice, which
was often injudiciously used by the multitude, was gradually limited by canons
which fixed the qualifications for the episcopate. And, although the right of
voting was not yet restricted to persons of superior station, the emperor
swayed the elections to the greater sees—especially those of the cities in
which he resided—and sometimes directly nominated the bishops.
The orders of the
ministry remained as before, but it was not usual to proceed regularly through
the lower grades to the higher. Thus we find that very commonly deacons
were raised to the episcopate, or readers to the presbyterate, without passing
through even a symbolical ordination to the intermediate offices; and we have
seen in the instances of Ambrose and Nectarius that
even unbaptized persons were chosen for bishops, and, after receiving baptism,
were advanced at once to the highest order of the ministry.
The practice of
forcible ordinations was a remarkable feature of this age. The only expedient
by which a person could protect himself against the designs of a bishop or a
congregation who considered him fit for spiritual office, was that of swearing
that he would not submit to be ordained; for it was thought that one who had
taken an oath of this kind ought not to be compelled to forswear himself. When
the custom of such ordinations had been introduced, reluctance to undertake the
ministerial function was often feigned for the purpose of gaining importance.
Both forced ordinations and the hasty promotion of neophytes were after a time
forbidden by canons and by imperial edicts, in some of which a curious
distinction was made between the case of bishops who had been ordained without
their own consent, and that of presbyters or lower clergy in like
circumstances. The latter were allowed to renounce their orders; but this
liberty was denied to the bishops, on the ground that none were really worthy
of the episcopate but such as were chosen against their will. In the fifth
century, ordination began to be employed as a means of disqualifying persons
who had been unfortunate in political life for taking any further part in the
public affairs of the world. Some of the latest emperors of the west were
set aside by this expedient.
The influence of
the monastic spirit tended to advance the practice of celibacy among the
clergy, and the opinion of its obligation. At the council of Nicaea, it was
proposed that married bishops, presbyters, and deacons should be compelled to
abstain from intercourse with their wives; but Paphnutius,
an Egyptian bishop, strongly opposed the motion. He dwelt on the holiness of
Christian marriage, and represented the inexpediency of imposing on the clergy
a yoke which many of them might be unable to bear, and which might therefore
become the occasion of sin, and injurious to the church. It was, he said,
enough to adhere to the older law, by which marriage after the reception of the
higher orders was forbidden. The argument was strengthened by the character of
the speaker. He was honoured as a confessor, having lost his right eye and had
his left thigh hamstrung in the last persecution; he had a high reputation for
sanctity, so that he was even supposed to possess miraculous power; his motives
were above suspicion, as he himself lived in celibacy and strict asceticism.
Under his guidance, therefore, the council rejected the proposal; and the
example thus set by the most revered of ecclesiastical assemblies was followed
in other quarters. Thus, the council of Gangra, which
was held chiefly for the consideration of the errors imputed to Eustathius of Sebaste, condemns,
among other extravagances connected with this subject, the refusal to
communicate with married priests. And in the eastern churches generally,
although the practice of celibacy or of abstinence from conjugal intercourse
became usual, it continued to the end of the century to be voluntary.
In the west, an
important step towards the establishment of celibacy was taken by Siricius, in his decretal epistle of the year 385,
addressed to Himerius, bishop of Tarragona. After
stating that some clergymen had had children, and had defended themselves by
pleading the Mosaic law, he argues that the cases are unlike, inasmuch as among
the Jews the priesthood was hereditary, whereas among Christians it is not so;
and further that, as the Jewish priests separated themselves from their wives
during the periods of ministering in the temple, so for the Christian clergy,
who are always on duty, the separation must be perpetual. He ordered that
presbyters and deacons should abstain from their wives; that such as had before
violated this rule through ignorance should be allowed to retain their places,
but on condition of observing continence, and without the hope of promotion;
that if any one attempted to defend the contrary practice, he should be
deposed; that no man who had married a widow, or who had been more than once
married, should be eligible to the ministry; and that clergy contracting such
marriages should be deposed. The frequency of enactments in pursuance of this
decretal, and the mitigations of its provisions which some of them contain,
indicate that great difficulty was found in enforcing it; and this inference is
amply supported by other facts.
In proportion as
the marriage of ecclesiastics was discouraged, the practice of entertaining
female companions or attendants in their houses increased. The council of
Nicaea enacted that no women should be admitted in this capacity, except such
as from near relationship or from age might be regarded as beyond suspicion of
improper familiarity with the clergy.
Monasticism.
THE monastic life
received a vast impulse during the fourth century. As the profession of
Christianity was no longer a mark of separation from the mass of men, some
further distinction appeared necessary for those who aspired to a higher life.
Moreover, with the cessation of persecution the opportunities of displaying
heroism in confession and martyrdom had ceased. Hence many persons, seeing the
corruption which was now too manifest in the nominally Christian society, and
not understanding that the truer and more courageous course was to work in the midst
of the world and against evil, thought to attain a more elevated spirituality
by withdrawing from mankind and devoting themselves to austerity of life and
to endeavours after undisturbed communion with heaven.
Paul, who has been
mentioned as the first Christian hermit, spent his life, from twenty-three to a
hundred and thirteen, in the desert, without contemporary fame or influenced In
the year of his retirement, A.D. 251, the more celebrated Antony was born of
Christian parents at Coma, a village in the Thebaid.
We are told by his biographer (who, if he was not himself the great Athanasius,
is supposed to have written under his influence) that in boyhood and youth
Antony showed a thoughtful and religious character. He had learnt to read and
write his native Coptic, but never acquired even the alphabet of Greek,
and was unable to speak that language. Before reaching the age of twenty he
lost his parents, and came into possession of a considerable property. One day
he was struck by hearing in church the gospel of the rich young man, who was
charged to sell all that he had, give to the poor, and follow the Saviour,
that he might have treasure in heaven. Antony forthwith made over his land to
the inhabitants of his village, turned the rest of his estate into money, and
bestowed all on the poor, except a small portion which he reserved for the
maintenance of his only sister. On another occasion he was impressed in like
manner by the words, "Take no thought for the morrow", and, in order
to fulfill the command, he parted with the remainder
of his property, committed his sister to a society of religious virgins, and
embraced an ascetic life.
At first he took
up his abode near his own village; for, says his biographer, such was then the
practice of those who desired to live religiously, when as yet there were no
monasteries in the desert. He laboured with his own hands, and gave
away all that he could spare from his necessities. He visited all the most
famous ascetics whom he could hear of —endeavouring to learn from each his
distinguishing virtue, and to combine all their graces in his own practice.
After a time he shut himself up in a tomb, from which he removed, ten years
later, to a ruined castle near the Red Sea. But, although he continually
increased his mortifications, he found that temptation followed him from one
retreat to another. He fancied himself beset by devils in all manner of
frightful shapes, and at other times by worldly thoughts or by sensual
enticements. The noise of his conflicts with the enemy was heard by those who
passed by his dwelling; more than once he was found almost dead from the
chastisement which had been inflicted on him by his ghostly assailants. Antony
became famous: many persons made pilgrimages to see him; and having spent twenty
years in his castle, without either leaving its walls or admitting any one
within them, he went forth and received disciples, who settled around him,
studding the desert with their cells.
The persecution
under Maximin drew Antony to Alexandria, where he attended on the sufferers,
and in every possible exposed himself to death; but when the heat of the danger
had passed over, he concluded that the crown of martyrdom, to which he had
aspired, was not intended for him, and, wishing to escape from the oppressiveness
of the admiration which waited on him, he sought out, under the guidance of
some Saracens, who were miraculously thrown in his way, a solitude more remote
than that in which he had before lived. His abode was now a cave in the side of
a lofty mountain, with a supply of cool water and the shade of a few palm-trees
beside it; he cultivated a small patch of corn and vegetables, that he might be
able not only to spare others the labour of supplying him with bread, but
to furnish something for the refreshment of visitors. The beasts of the desert,
in resorting to the water, damaged his crops; but he gently laid hold of one,
and said to them, “Why do you injure me, when I do you no hurt? Depart, and, in
the name of the Lord, come hither no more!” and his charge was obeyed. The more
Antony withdrew from the world, the mere eagerly was he followed. Multitudes
flocked to him, and imitators of his manner of life arose in great numbers. He
reconciled enemies, comforted mourners, and advised in spiritual concerns.
His interposition
was often requested in behalf of the oppressed, and was never exerted in vain.
When any such business had drawn him to leave his cell, he returned as soon as
possible: “A monk out of his solitude”, he said, “is like a fish out of water”.
Constantine and his sons sought his correspondence, entreated his prayers, and
invited him to their courts; but, instead of being elated by the honour,
he said to his disciples, “Marvel not if the emperor writes to us, since he is
a man; but rather marvel that God hath written his laws for men, and hath
spoken them to us by his Son”. In the Arian controversies, Antony and his monks
were steady and powerful supporters of orthodoxy. He wrote to Constantine,
urging the recall of Athanasius from his first exile, and received an answer
expressed in terms of high respect. In order to aid the orthodox cause, he paid
a second visit to Alexandria, where his appearance made even a greater
impression than before, and many pagans were converted in consequence. He was favoured with
visions and revelations for the comfort of the brethren in the faith; and in
cases of doubt he prayed for direction, and received instructions from above.
Innumerable miracles were ascribed to him, and he supposed himself to work
them, but was free from all pride on account of the gift. His ghostly enemies
still continued their assaults, and philosophers frequently attacked him, in
the hope of turning his illiteracy into ridicule; but the firmness of his
faith, together with his natural shrewdness, gave him the victory alike over
men and demons. Severe as his habits were, he had nothing of the savageness
which became too common among his followers; he well understood the dangers of
the solitary life, and was earnest in warning against a reliance on the mere
outward form of monachism.
Antony lived to
the age of a hundred and five, and died a few days before Athanasius sought a
refuge among the monks of the desert in 356. Of his two sheepskins he
bequeathed one to the bishop of Alexandria, and the other to Serapion, bishop of Thmuis. A
cloak, the gift of Athanasius, which had been worn for many years, was to be
restored to the donor, and the hermit's garment of hair-cloth fell to two
disciples who had long been his especial attendants. He charged these disciples
to bury him in a place unknown to all but themselves, lest his remains should
be embalmed and kept above ground—a manner of showing reverence to deceased
saints which he had often endeavoured to suppress.
The coenobitic
system—that of ascetics living in a community —originated with Pachomius, who
was, like Antony, a native of the Thebaid. The
founder was born in 292, was converted to Christianity,
and practised rigid austerities under the direction of a
solitary named Palaemon, until he was visited by
an angel, who told him that, as he had made sufficient progress in the monastic
life, he must now become a teacher of others, and gave him a code of rules,
written on a brazen tablet, which the disciples of Pachomius professed to
have in their possession. Pachomius then instituted a society in an
island of the Nile called Tabenne, which had
been indicated to him by a voice from heaven. The brotherhood was soon
extended, so that before the founder's death it embraced eight monasteries,
with 3,000 inmates (of whom 1,400 were in the mother-establishment): and in the
beginning of the following century the whole number of monks was not less than
5o,ooo.
The monks lived in
cells, each of which contained three. They were under engagements of absolute
obedience to the commands of a chief, who was called abbot (from
a Syriac word signifying father), or archimandrite (from the
Greek mandra, a sheepfold). Under him
each of the monasteries was governed by a head of its own, and the chief abbot
from time to time made a circuit of visitation. The whole society assembled at
the mother monastery twice every year —at the Easter festival and in the month
of August. The monks were, by direction of the brazen tablet, divided into
twenty-four classes, which took their names from the Greek alphabet, and were
arranged according to the characters of the individuals; thus the simplest were
in the class which bore the name of the letter I, while the more knowing were
ranked under the letters of more complicated form. A strict community of all
things was enforced, so that it was considered as a serious breach of
discipline to speak of ‘my’ coat, or book, or pen. The monks employed
themselves in agriculture, basket-weaving, rope-making, and other kinds of
industry. The produce of their labour was carried down the Nile in
boats belonging to the society, and manned by monks; and the money which it
fetched in the markets at Alexandria was not only enough for their own support,
but enabled them to perform works of charity. They prayed many times a day,
fasted on the fourth and sixth days of the week, and communicated on the
Sabbath and oil the Lord's day. Their meals were taken in common—each being
preceded by psalmody. They ate in silence, and with their hoods drawn over
their faces, so that no one might see his neighbours, or anything but the fare
set before him. The heavenly rule was not stringent as to the quantity of
food—ordaining only that each monk should labour in proportion to his
eating; but most of them carried their abstinence beyond the letter of its
requirements. The sick were tended with remarkable care. The monks had a
peculiar dress, the chief article of which was a goatskin, in imitation of
Elijah, who was regarded as a pattern of the monastic life. They were never to
undress, except that at communicating they unloosened their girdles. They slept
with their clothes on, and in chairs so constructed as to keep them almost in a
standing posture.
Pachomius had
a sister, whom the fame of his institution induced to visit Tabenne. On being informed of her arrival, the abbot
desired the porter of the monastery to beg that she would be content with the
assurance of his welfare; and to inform her that, if she were disposed to
imitate his manner of life, he would cause a monastery to be provided for her
at a distance from him. This message had the effect which Pachomius
intended; the monastery was built for his sister by monks from Tabenne; and in a short time she found herself abbess of a
large community of women, regulated by a code which her brother had framed on
the model of his own, and subject to his orders, although he never personally
visited it. After this first example the formation of such societies was
rapid—the female recluses being styled nuns—a title of uncertain derivation and
meaning. Pachomius died in 348.
About the same
time when Pachomius established his order at Tabenne,
the elder Macarius took up his abode in the
desert of Scetis—a vast solitude near the Libyan
frontier of Egypt—and Ammon settled on the Nitrian or Nitre mountain.
Around these chiefs were soon gathered large numbers of monks, living in
separate cells, which either were solitary or were grouped together in clusters
called laurae. The monks met on the first
and last days of the week for public worship; if any
one were absent it was concluded that he must be sick, and some of
the brethren were sent to visit his cell. Except on such occasions they never
spoke. The Nitrian monks were reckoned to
be about 5,000 in the end of the century.
The monastic system
was speedily extended beyond the borders of Egypt. In Syria it was introduced
by Hilarion, a pupil and imitator of Antony, who lived fifty years in the
desert near Gaza. In Mesopotamia it was eagerly welcomed, and derived especial
lustre from the genius and piety of the mystic St. Ephrem. Eustathius bishop of Sebaste established monasteries in Armenia, and, as has been already mentioned, St.
Basil organized societies of coenobites in Pontus and Cappadocia.
Athanasius, on his visit to Rome in 340, was accompanied by some Egyptian
monks, who were the first that were seen in the west. Their wild and rude
appearance excited the disgust of the Romans, but with many this feeling was
soon exchanged for reverence. The profession of religious celibacy found votaries
among the younger ladies of the capital, and among the earliest of these who
embraced it was Marcellina, the sister of St.
Ambrose. The zeal with which Ambrose, after becoming a bishop, advocated the
cause of celibacy, may perhaps have been in some measure prompted by his
sister. He wrote treatises on the subject, maintaining that young women ought
to embrace the virgin life in defiance of the will of their parents, and
fortifying his argument by tales of judgments which had befallen persons who
dared to dissuade their relatives from such a course. He extolled virginity in
his sermons — even (as he says) to the weariness of his hearers. The matrons of
his city endeavoured to preserve their daughters from the fascination
of these discourses by forcibly keeping them at home; but crowds of virgins
from other quarters—some of them even from Mauritania—flocked to seek
consecration at the hands of the bishop of Milan. The little islands on the
coasts of Italy and Dalmatia became sprinkled with monasteries and cells.
St. Martin, who had lived as a monk in the island of Gallinaria,
introduced monasticism into Gaul, built religious houses near Poitiers and
Tours, and was followed to his grave by two thousand of the brethren. In Africa
monasticism made less progress than elsewhere. It did not obtain any footing
until it was introduced by St. Augustine, within the last ten years of the
century; nor was the authority of that great bishop, or even the example which
he gave by living in coenobite fashion with his clergy, sufficient to
attract to the monastic life any but persons of the Tower ranks. Salvian, about the year 450, witnesses that it still
continued to be unpopular in Africa, and that monks were objects of persecution
in that country.
The rules and
habits of the monastic societies differed according to circumstances, and
according to the judgment of their founders. Industrial occupations —such as
field-labour, building, weaving, or the manufacture of nets, baskets, and
sandals—were generally prescribed in the east, and Augustine wrote a treatise
against those monks who wished to be exempt from these employments. But St.
Martin regarded such things as likely to become hindrances to devotion, and
would allow no other manual work than that the younger brethren should transcribe
books. The monks of Gaul, indeed, having ample employment for their energies in
combating the idolatry and superstition of the barbarians among whom they were
placed, did not need to have their hours relieved from vacancy in the same
manner as the inhabitants of the Egyptian or Syrian deserts. As to food and
clothing, also, the varieties of climate were considered. “A large appetite”,
says Martin’s biographer, “is gluttony in Greeks, but in Gauls it is nature”.
Pachomius required
a probation of three years before admission into his order, and a similar rule
was adopted in other societies. There was as yet no vow exacted at entrance,
although St. Basil suggests that a formal profession should be required; nor
was the profession of monasticism irrevocable, for, although withdrawal was a
subject for penance, it was yet in some cases even recommended as the safest
course.
All the chief
teachers of the age, both in the east and in the west, vied with each other in
the praise of celibacy and monasticism. St. Jerome, in particular—the most
learned man of his day, who may be regarded as the connecting link between the
eastern and the Latin divisions of the church—exercised a powerful influence in
the promotion of monachism, and the story of his life belongs in great
part to the general history of the subject.
This celebrated
teacher of the church —in whom we see extraordinary intellectual gifts and a
sincere zeal for the service of Christ strangely combined with extravagance of
opinion and conduct, greediness of power and authority, pride, vanity, violent
irritability, and extreme bitterness of temper— was born of Christian parents
at Stridon, on the borders of Pannonia and Dalmatian
He studied at Rome under Donatus, the commentator on Virgil, and, after
having reached manhood, felt himself called to a religious life, and was
baptized. After having travelled in Gaul and other countries, he withdrew in
374 to the desert of Chalcis, eastward of Syria, where he entered on a course
of the most violent mortifications. But the impulses of sensuality, to which he
confesses that he had yielded before his baptism, revived in the solitude where
he had hoped to find freedom from temptation. He strove against them by fasting
and prayer; and, wishing to add some humiliating occupation to these exercises,
he began the study of Hebrew under a converted Jew—the language being
recommended for his purpose by the indignity of learning an alphabet, by the
unmusical sound of the words, and by the unadorned plainness (as Jerome considered
it) of the sacred writings. The acquisition proved valuable in a degree more
than sufficient to compensate for the injury which he tells us that his Latin
style, and even his pronunciation, had suffered from it.
Jerome had devoted
himself with zeal to classical literature, while he despised the Scriptures for
their simplicity. The bent of his studies was changed by a remarkable incident,
either while he was residing at Antioch before betaking himself to the desert,
or during his retirement. He had a severe illness, and was supposed to be dead,
when he found himself placed in the presence of the Judge, and, on being asked
his condition, answered that he was a Christian. “Thou liest”,
it was said; “thou art not a Christian, but a Ciceronian; for where thy
treasure is, there is thy heart also”. He was severely beaten, but at his
earnest entreaty, and through the intercession of the saints who stood around,
his life was spared in pity of his youth. He swore never again to open a
heathen book, and on returning to the world found, as he tells us, that his
shoulders were black and his body aching from the blows which he had received.
Jerome seems to have afterwards dealt with this story according to his
convenience—treating it as a solemn reality when he wished to dissuade others
from the study of secular learning, and as a mere dream when he found himself
unable to deny that he had not strictly observed his oath. In later ages his
vision was often pleaded in favour both of an indolent unwillingness
to study and of a fanatical contempt of letters.
The controversies
of the time disquieted even the desert. Jerome quarrelled with
the neighbouring monks as to the disputes of Meletius, Paulinus,
and the Apollinarian Vitalis for the possession of the see of
Antioch, and as to the use of the term hypostasis. An appeal
to Damasus of Rome for direction seems to
have decided him in favour of Paulinus he left the desert in
377, and in the following year was ordained presbyter by that bishop, with a
stipulation that he should not be bound to any particular sphere of duty. After
having spent some time at Constantinople, during the episcopate of Gregory
Nazianzen, whom he greatly revered, he settled in 382 at Rome, where he acted
as ecclesiastical secretary to Damasus, and assisted
him in his studies.
This position,
with his talents, his learning, and the reputation of religious experience
which he had brought from the east, gave him the means of powerfully forwarding
the cause of monasticism and celibacy. He soon gained an immense influence
among the Roman ladies of rank, among whom Marcella, Asella,
Paula, and Fabiola were conspicuous. He directed their spiritual life; he
read and explained the Scriptures to them, while their eager questions often
went beyond his power of answering; he endeavoured to draw all women
into a resolution to preserve their virginity or their widowhood, and to engage
in a course of asceticism. When remarks were made on his confining his
instructions to the weaker sex, he answered that if men would ask him about
Scripture he would not occupy himself with women. When charged with disparaging
marriage, he answered that he praised it, inasmuch as marriage gave birth to
virgins. The religion which Jerome taught these female pupils was not without
its temptations to pride, from which it may be doubted whether his warnings
were sufficient to preserve them. They were charged to seclude themselves from
all other persons; the virgin Eustochium was
exhorted to avoid all intercourse with married women as corrupting. The
pursuits of piety and of unusual learning animated them to despise the ordinary
amusements of the world; and they were taught to regard such amusements,
without any distinction, as sins of the most deadly kind. On those who followed
his directions Jerome lavished hyperbolical praises. He tells them that a
mother who gives up her daughter to celibacy becomes the “mother-in-law of
God”—an expression which not unnaturally gave occasion for charges of
profanity. One of his epistles is an elaborate panegyric on Asella, written to Marcella, whom, with an amusing show of
gravity, he begs not to communicate it to her friend who was the subject of it.
His eulogium on Paula after her death begins thus—“If all the members of my
body were turned into tongues, and all my joints were to utter human voices, I
should be unable to say anything worthy of the holy and venerable Paula's
virtues”. Eustochium he styles “the precious
pearl”—“the precious jewel of virginity and of the church”. She, he says, “in
gathering the flowers of virginity”, answers to the good ground in the parable
which yielded an hundredfold, while her sister Paulina, who had died in
wedlock, was as that which brought forth thirty-fold, and their mother, the
widowed Paula, as that which brought forth sixty-fold. With no less zeal he
extols Demetrias, a member of the great Anician family, who with her mother Juliana had been
driven by the calamities of Rome to seek a refuge in Africa. On the eve of the
day appointed for her marriage, this “foremost maiden of the Roman world for
nobility and wealth” declared her resolution to embrace a life of celibacy.
Augustine, Jerome, and other eminent teachers wrote to her on the occasion;
among them Pelagius, whose peculiar tenets were then beginning to attract attention,
addressed to her, at her mother’s request, an elaborate epistle, in which his
errors were so strongly expressed that Augustine and Alypius thought
it necessary to counteract the effect of it by writing jointly to Juliana.
“What an exultation was there throughout the whole family!” exclaims Jerome.
“As if from a fruitful root, a multitude of virgins sprang up at once, and a
crowd of dependants and servants followed the example of their
pattern and mistress. Through every house ran a fervour of professing
virginity. Nay, I say too little—all the churches throughout Africa danced, as
it were, for joy. The fame of the act penetrated not only to cities, towns, and
villages, but even to the very tents of the barbarians. All the islands between
Africa and Italy were filled with the rumour; and the rejoicings,
unchecked in their progress, ran further and further”. He goes on to say that
Rome had put off her mourning garments—regarding the “perfect conversion” of
her child as a token of divine favour towards herself—a compensation
for the calamities which she had lately endured; that the shores of the
Mediterranean and the regions of the east resounded with celebrations of Demetrias. “Even now”, he tells her, in words which admit
of more than one application, “you have received, O virgin, more than you have
offered. Whereas only one province had known you as the bride of man, the whole
world has heard of you as the virgin of Christ”. The constant dwelling on the
subject of virginity in writing to such correspondents—the strange, and sometimes
grossly indecent, comparisons with earthly love by which Jerome illustrates
their mystical union with the heavenly bridegroom—are singularly at variance
with modern ideas of delicacy. Nor, indeed, is it easy to understand why the
choice of an unmarried life—which among ourselves is an everyday effect of mere
economical prudence—should be extravagantly magnified as the loftiest reach of
heroic sanctity.
Of the Roman
ladies who fell under the influence of Jerome, Paula and her daughter Eustochium are the most intimately connected with his
history. Paula was born in 347. Her father was said to be descended from
Agamemnon; her mother from the Scipios and
the Gracchi. Her husband, Toxotius, who traced
his line-age through the Julian family to Aeneas, died in 380, leaving her with
a young son of his own name, and with four daughters—Blaesilla,
Paulina, Eustochium, and Rufina. Paula had
already exchanged the luxury and delicacy of her former life for a course of
strict religion before she became acquainted with Jerome. Eustochium, who had been trained under the care of the
noble and pious widow Marcella, was the first Roman maiden of high birth who
dedicated her virginity to God. At the desire of her uncle Hymetius, his wife, Praetextata,
once more attired her after the fashion of this world, in the hope that she
might be persuaded to abandon her resolution; but Jerome relates that in the
same night the matron was visited in her sleep by an angel of terrible
countenance and voice, who told her that since she had preferred her husband's
command to Christ's, the sacrilegious hands which had touched the virgin's head
should wither; that within five months she would be carried off to hell; and
unless she repented forthwith, her husband and sons should be taken from her in
one day. These threatenings (he says) were
all fulfilled; and he does not fail to draw a moral for others from the fate
of Praetextata.
Blaesilla, the eldest daughter of
Paula, became a widow within seven months after her marriage. On her recovery
from a dangerous illness, she devoted herself, by what is styled "”a sort
of second baptism”, to prayer and mortification. Her tears flowed, not for
the loss of her husband, but for the irreparable forfeiture of the virgin's
crown. She learnt Hebrew with wonderful rapidity, and contended with her mother
which of them should commit to memory and should chant the greater number of
psalms in the original. After three months of this life Blaesilla died, her end having apparently been hastened
by her austerities. At her funeral, which was conducted with pomp suitable to
her rank, Paula was greatly agitated, and she was carried home as if dead. The
crowd of spectators burst forth into loud cries, “See how she weeps for her
child, after having killed her with fasting!” and they were clamorous for the
death or banishment of the monks, by whose arts they declared that both mother
and daughter had been bewitched. Jerome, who was especially aimed at, wrote to
reprove Paula for having, by her exhibition of grief, given this occasion to
the enemy; the devil (he said) having missed her daughter’s soul, was now
attempting to catch her own.
In addition to the
popular excitement, Jerome had provoked the dislike of many Roman nobles, whose
female relatives had been under his guidance. He had also made many enemies
among the professed virgins by censuring their inconsistencies in dress and
manners, and was deeply engaged in quarrels with the clergy, whom he taxed with
ignorance, luxury, rapacity, and selfishness, while they retorted by complaints
of his intolerable arrogance. Even his ardent admirer Marcella was unable to
approve the scorn and the asperity with which he treated his opponents; and the
satirical letters which he wrote against his brethren were eagerly circulated
among the heathen as tending to the disparagement of Christianity altogether.
By the death of
his patron Damasus, which took place in 384,
within a month after that of Blaesilla, he lost
his official employment. He tells us that, in the earlier days of his residence
at Rome, he had been in the highest estimation, and had even been regarded as
worthy to succeed to the bishopric; but by this time the general opinion had
changed. He had made himself unpopular; he was accused of magic, and of
improper familiarity with Paula. “What?” he indignantly asks, “was I ever
charged with following after silken dresses, glittering jewels, painted faces,
or the desire of gold? Was there no other among the Roman matrons who could
subdue my mind but one who is always weeping and fasting, squalid in filthy
rags, almost blinded by her tears?—one who spends whole nights in supplications
to God for mercy; whose songs are the Psalms, whose speech is the Gospel, whose
pleasure is continence, whose life is a fast?”. That his own intractable
character had been in any degree to blame for the troubles which had arisen,
was an idea which Jerome could neither conceive nor entertain; in 385, after a
residence of somewhat less than three years, he left Rome in disgust for the
east.
Paula soon after
followed, with Eustochium. Jerome draws an
elaborate picture of her kindred, her marriageable daughter Rufina, and
the young Toxotius, accompanying her to the
place of embarkation, and imploring that she would not abandon them. Perhaps
indignation may mingle with our other feelings as we read his eulogies on the
mistaken heroism which led her, in the fancied pursuit of a higher religious
life, to cast aside the duties which God and nature had laid upon her.
Jerome and Paula
met again at Antioch, and spent some time in travelling, together or apart.
Paula visited, with the greatest devotion, all the holy sites; while Jerome
employed himself in endeavouring, by the help of local traditions, to
bring the topography of Palestine to bear on the illustration of Scripture.
From the Holy Land they passed into Egypt, where they sojourned among the Nitrian monks, and Jerome attended the lectures
of Didymus, the last eminent master of the catechetical school of
Alexandria, who, although blind from early childhood, was among the foremost
men of his age, not only for genius, but for theological and secular learning.
In 387 the matron and her spiritual guide took up their abode at Bethlehem,
then a place of great resort, both for pilgrims from all parts of the Christian
world, and for settlers who wished to enjoy such advantages as the neighborhood of scenes famous in sacred history might be
expected to yield for the religious life. Jerome describes in lofty terms the
love, the harmony, and the mutual forbearance which reigned among the
sojourners in the Redeemer's birthplace; but his praises were perhaps chiefly
founded on the improvement in his own position, as compared with that of his
latter days at Rome; and it is certain that if Bethlehem was at peace when he
arrived there, his temper soon introduced the elements of discord.
Paula became an
object of interest to pilgrims, whose veneration more than compensated for the
secular advantages which she had resigned. For a time Jerome lived in a small
cell. He was supported by Paula, but would accept only the coarsest clothing,
with a diet of bread, water, and pulse. By selling the remainder of his
patrimony, through the agency of his brother Paulinian, whom he sent into
the west for the purpose, he was able to build a monastery, in which it is
supposed that he took up his abode, and an hospital, which was open to all
strangers except heretics, “lest”, he said, “Joseph and Mary, if they were to
come again to Bethlehem, should again find no room; for our purpose is to wash
the feet of those who come to us—not to discuss their merits”. His chief
literary occupation was the translation of the Scriptures. While at Rome he
had, at the desire of Damasus, corrected the
Latin version of the Gospels by the Greek; he now, in like manner, corrected
the Latin of the Old Testament according to the text of the Septuagint
exhibited in Origen’s Hexapla, which he procured from the library
of Caesarea; but he afterwards entered on a greater undertaking, of vast
importance for the ages which were to follow—a direct translation from the
Hebrew. These labours excited great odium against him on the part of
persons by whom the reverence which regards God’s word as sacred was
ignorantly extended to the defects of the versions which they had been
accustomed to use. His correction of the Gospels had contributed to swell his
unpopularity at Rome; to attempt any improvements on the Septuagint, which was
supposed to be itself inspired, was regarded as a daring impiety. Rufinus, in the bitterness of controversy, denounced Jerome
for bringing the knowledge which he had bought from “a Barabbas of the
synagogue” to disparage the books which the apostles had delivered to the
church; even Augustine wrote to dissuade him from prosecuting his task, on the
ground that, after the labours of so many translators, there was
probably nothing considerable to be done.
By his
correspondence Jerome acted as a spiritual director to many religious persons
at Rome and elsewhere, while at home he superintended the exercises and
employments of Paula and Eustochium. The hours
of the pious widow and her daughter were spent in study, devotion, and works of
charity : such was their eagerness to penetrate into the meaning of Scripture,
that Jerome often found himself perplexed by their pertinacious questionings.
Paula daily bewailed the vanities of her youth with a profusion of tears; even
in illness she refused to depart from her custom of lying on the bare floor in
a hair shirt; nor would she taste wine, although the advice of her physician
was supported by the spiritual authority of Jerome and of Epiphanius, bishop of
Constantia in Cyprus. She built three monasteries for women, and one for men.
Her property had been greatly reduced by her largesses for
religious and charitable purposes before leaving Rome and in the course of her
travels; she now gave away the remainder, and, when Jerome remonstrated, she
answered that it was her wish to die a beggar, without leaving anything for her
daughter, and to be indebted to the charity of others for a shroud. Eustochium is celebrated as a model of filial
obedience; she never, it is said, slept away from her mother, never ate except
in her company, never took a step without her: she never had any money of her
own during her mother’s lifetime, and at Paula’s death found herself charged
with the maintenance of a multitude of male and female recluses, and burdened
with debts which the devout widow had contracted at high interest, in order to
obtain the means for her extravagant alms-deeds.
After a residence
of nearly twenty years at Bethlehem, Paula died in 404, and was buried in the
church of the Nativity. The funeral rites lasted a week. The bier was borne by
bishops, while others of that order carried lamps; and the attendance of
clergy, monks, and laity was immense. The inscription on the grave, composed by
Jerome, set forth the illustrious descent and connections of Paula,
with her sacrifice of all for Christ. Eustochium survived
her until 419, and in the following year Jerome himself died, having attained
the age of eighty-nine.
The founders of
monasticism intended that their disciples should be patterns of the highest
Christian life, rather than directly teachers. They were therefore originally
laymen, but by the repute of sanctity they soon gained an influence which
raised them into a rivalry with the clergy. Although for the most part little
qualified by education to judge of theological questions, they were consulted
on the highest and the most difficult Some of them were resorted to as oracles;
even the emperor Theodosius, before resolving on war, thought it well to assure
himself by the opinion of John, a celebrated solitary of the Thebaid. By many of the monks ecclesiastical office was
regarded as inconsistent with the higher spiritual life. Thus St. Martin of
Tours considered that his power of miracles was weakened from the time when he
left his monastery for the episcopate. Pachomius charged his
brotherhood to shun ordination as a snare and it is recorded as a saying current
in Egypt, that “a monk ought to avoid bishops and women; for neither will allow
him to rest quietly in his cell, or to devote himself to the contemplation of
heavenly things”. Ammonius, one of the monks who
had accompanied Athanasius to Rome, on being chosen for a bishopric, cut off
one of his ears, supposing that, as under the Jewish law, the mutilation would
disqualify him; and, on being told that such was not the case, he threatened to
cut out his tongue. When, however, an abbot named Dracontius declined
a bishopric as being a hindrance to spiritual improvement, Athanasius strongly
combated his opinion. “Even when a bishop”, he writes, “you may hunger and
thirst, and fast as often as Paul. . . . We know of bishops who fast, and of
monks who eat; of bishops who abstain from wine, and of monks who drink; of
bishops who do miracles, and of monks who do none; of many bishops who have
never married, and of monks who have had children”. But, although the original
idea of monachism discouraged the reception of ecclesiastical orders, many
monks regarded ordination as an advancement, and for that reason sought after
it. St. Augustine intimates that these were not always the persons who were
most likely to do credit to the clerical office; but even where there was no
previous objection on the ground of character, the effect of transferring monks
to the ranks of clergy was often unsatisfactory. St. Chrysostom, a warm
advocate of monasticism, mentions that he had known some who made continual
progress as monks, but deteriorated when brought into active life as
ecclesiastics; and perhaps this change may be explained by supposing that the
monastic training had failed to prepare them for functions which require a
knowledge of men, and a sympathy with human feelings.
There is much that
is beautiful and attractive in the idea of monasticism—a life dedicated to
prayer and contemplation, varied by labours for the good of mankind;
a bond of brotherhood, linking together as equals all who should enter into the
society, from the man who had forsaken rank and wealth and power—perhaps even
sovereignty—to the emancipated slave; renunciation of individual possessions
for a community of all things, in imitation (as was supposed) of the first
Christians after the day of Pentecost. But while we acknowledge this, and
believe that in very many cases the benefits of the monastic institution were
largely realized—while we see in the establishment of this system a
providential preparation for the coming ages of darkness, in which it was to be
of inestimable service to the church, to literature, and to
civilization—we must notice even thus early some of the evils which were mixed
with it Foremost among these may be placed the danger of the distinction
between an ordinary and a more exalted Christian life. This idea St. Chrysostom
strongly and frequently opposed. “All men”, he says, “ought to rise to the same
height, and that which ruins the whole world is that we imagine a greater
strictness to be necessary for the monk alone, but that others may lead
careless lives. Indeed it is not so, it is not so; but we are all required to
exercise the same discipline; and this I very strongly assert,—or rather, not
I, but He who will be our judge. The Saviour's precepts that we
should take his yoke upon us, that we should enter in at the strait gate, that
we should hate the life of this world, and all such like, are not addressed to
monks only, but to all. But the distinction was too commonly adopted—not only
to the relaxation of religion and morals among the multitude, who learnt to
devolve the higher duties on the monks, and were led into a general disregard
of the divine laws by finding themselves exempt from the operation of certain
rules which claimed a divine authority, such as the monastic precepts on the
subject of marriage; but to the danger of those who embraced a course which was
thus marked out as far above that required of mankind in general”.
The institution
was not of Christian origin. It was common to eastern religions; the scriptural
patterns of it were all drawn from the days of the Old Testament— Elijah, the
Rechabites, St. John the Baptist whereas a warrant for it under the gospel was
only to be found by violently distorting the meaning of some passages, or by
magnifying them beyond their due proportion. The monk was to avoid those trials
of life for the bearing of which grace is promised, and was to cast himself on
other trials, for which he might possibly be unfit. He was placed in hostility,
not only to the corruption and evil of the world, but to that which is good in
it. He was to renounce its charities and its discipline; he was to become a
stranger to his natural affections. Antony himself believed it to be a duty to
overcome his love for his sister, whom, after their early parting, he never saw
again until she had become an aged abbess; and we have seen how
harshly Pachomius disowned the ties of kindred. Pior,
a disciple of Antony, on leaving his father’s house, vowed that he would never
again look on any of his relations. After he had spent fifty years in the
desert, his sister discovered that he was still alive; she was too infirm to
seek him out, but her earnest entreaties set in motion the authority of his
superiors, and Pior was ordered to visit her.
Having arrived in front of her dwelling, he sent her notice of his presence. As
the door opened, he closed his eyes, and held them obstinately closed
throughout the meeting; and, having allowed his sister to see him in this
fashion, he refused to enter her house, and hurried back to the desert. Another
monastic hero, on receiving a large packet of letters from his home, with which
he had held no communication for fifteen years, burnt it without opening it,
lest the contents should distract his mind by suggesting remembrances of the
writers. A still more extraordinary example of the manner in which the monks
were expected to deaden their natural feelings is said to have been given by
one Mucius. On his desiring admission into a
monastery, with his son, a boy eight years old, they were compelled, by way of
trial, to remain long without the gate. The constancy with which this was borne
prevailed on the monks to admit them, although children were usually excluded;
but their probation was not yet ended. They were separated from each other, the
child was ill-treated in every way, was dressed in rags, kept in a disgustingly
filthy state, and often beaten without any cause. Mucius,
however, made no remonstrance; and at length, on being told to throw his son
into the river, he obeyed this command also. The boy was saved, and it was
revealed to the abbot of the house that his new inmate was a second Abraham.
The overstrained
and misdirected idea of obedience which appears so remarkably in the case
of Mucius, runs through the whole history of
early monachism. The applicants for admission into a monastic society were
required to approve themselves by submitting to insults, contempt, harsh usage,
and degrading employments; the faith and patience of the monks were tried by
the imposition of wearisome and preposterous labours. Thus it is related that
John, the same whose responses afterwards directed the policy of the great
Theodosius, was commanded by his abbot to remove a huge rock, and struggled at
the manifestly hopeless task until he was worn out by the violence of his
exertions. At another time he was ordered to water a dry stick twice a day; and
for a year he faithfully persisted in the work, toiling, whether sick or well,
through all the inclemencies of the seasons, to
fetch the water twice every day from a distance of two miles. On being asked at
length by his superior whether the plant had struck root, the monk completed
his obedience by modestly answering that he did not know; whereupon the abbot,
pulling up the stick, released him from his task. In such narratives it seems
to be expected that we should admire not only the endurance of the submissive
monk, but the execrable tyranny of the taskmaster.
The zeal with
which St. Ambrose taught that virginity ought to be embraced in defiance of the
will of parents has already been mentioned. St. Jerome is yet more extravagant.
“Although”, he writes, in exhorting Heliodorus to
become a hermit, “your little nephew should hang about your neck; although your
mother, with hair disheveled and garments rent,
should show you the breasts at which she nourished you; although your father
should lie on the threshold;—trample on your father, and set out! Fly with dry
eyes to the banner of the cross! The only kind of piety is to be cruel in this
matter”.
An over-valuation
of celibacy already called down the censure of some councils. That of Gangra anathematizes those who condemn marriage as if
it were inconsistent with salvation; it forbids virgins to exalt themselves
above the married, and orders that women should not forsake their husbands as
if matrimony were unholy. The whole tone of its canons is directed against
the error of making a higher religion the pretext for the neglect of natural
and ordinary duties. Other councils forbade the reception of married persons
into monasteries without the consent of their partners, and the profession of
celibacy by women before the age of mature understanding. The council of
Saragossa (A.D. 381) fixes this at forty; the third council of Carthage (A.D.
397), at twenty-five; St. Basil, without naming any particular age, requires
that the profession shall be the effect of a settled and independent
resolution.
Some monks lived
entirely for contemplation and devotion, depending on others for food—as Paul,
called the Simple, a monk of Scetis, who said
three hundred prayers a-day, keeping an account of them by pebbles. But in
general, the need of some additional occupation was felt by the fathers of
monasticism. It was a saying that “a monk employed is beset by one devil, but
an idle monk by a whole legion”. The industrial occupations prescribed for the
monks, however, were not in general such as very thoroughly to occupy them.
There was, after all, much vacant time, and, although some of them cultivated
learning, there was in most cases a want of mental resources for the profitable
use of leisure. Antony, indeed, when a philosopher asked him how he could live
without books, was able to reply that for him the whole creation was a book,
always at hand, in which he could read God's word whensoever he
pleased. But this capacity for the contemplative life was not universal Among
the multitude who embraced the monastic profession—some from a mere spirit of
imitation; others from disappointment in love or in ambition, from excited
feelings of remorse, or in consequence of a sudden shock; some from a wish to
distinguish themselves, and to gain the reputation of holiness; some from a
disinclination to earn their support by any active callings The means which
were taken to avoid temptation rather served to excite it, by placing always
before the mind the duty of combating certain forms in which it might be
expected to appear. Thoughts of blasphemy and visions of impurity are
continually mentioned in the histories of monks. Many were driven into positive
insanity by solitude and excessive abstinence, working on enthusiastic
temperaments; many to despair, with thoughts of suicide, which were sometimes
carried into act. The biographies are full of fights with devils, of visions
and miracles—especially cures of demoniacs, raising of the dead and compelling
them to speak. The brute creatures play a large part in the miraculous tales.
Thus it is said that the younger Macarius was
visited by a lioness, who laid her blind cubs at his feet, that they might
receive their sight. The saint, after praying, performed the work; and the
mother expressed her gratitude by a present of sheepskins. It would be
difficult to determine in how far these stories are true; how far the
phantasies of excited imagination may have been mistaken for realities; how far
ordinary things have been exaggerated into the miraculous; or how far the
narratives are mere falsehoods, invented for the glory of the heroes and of the
institution.
With many the
outward imitation of the founders of monachism was all in all, while
unhappily the spirit which preserved such men as Antony from the evils of their
system was wanting. Austerities' frightful to think of were too often combined
with a want of true Christian faith and purity of heart. Many monks fancied
themselves above needing the ordinances of grace; many relapsed from an
overstrained asceticism into self-indulgent habits. Spiritual pride and
fanaticism abounded. And often it was found that the love of earthly things,
which was supposed to have been overcome by embracing the monastic state,
revived in new and subtle forms; as we are told that many who had renounced
wealth and splendour became chary of a knife, a style, a needle, or a
pen; that they would not let any one even
touch their books, and for such trifles were ready to break out into violent
anger.
After a time,
monks, forgetting the original object of their institution, began to flock into
towns, for the sake of the gifts which were to be expected, and of the other
advantages which such places offered. This was forbidden in 390 by a law of
Theodosius, issued, it is said, at the instigation of judges, who found the
visitors apt to interfere with the course of justice. Two years later the law
was relaxed, but only to the extent of allowing the monks to repair to, cities
for the redress of judicial wrongs. The credulity and liberality of the
inhabitants were practised on by hypocritical monks, who affected
strange dress and savage manners,—loading themselves with heavy chains, exhibiting
pretended relics, and telling outrageous fictions of adventures which they
professed to have had with evil spirits,—while their private life was spent in
luxury and profligacy.
Few of the monks
were able even to read; and in them the ignorance which would have been
despised in the clergy was admired as a token of sanctity. In consequence of
their ignorance they were liable to be swayed by any
one who might get possession of their minds. Their partisanship was
violent; they denounced any deviation from their own narrow views as utterly
anti-Christian; and, although in the Arian and Apollinarian controversies
they did good service, it was often in a rude and improper manner. They
interfered tumultuously in the elections of bishops. Crowds of them went about
in the east, destroying temples; and as such were the specimens of the monastic
class which came into contact with the pagans, we cannot wonder that their
illiteracy and their lawless fury excited in these strong feelings of disgust
and detestation. Libanius, whose description of
them has been already quoted in part, is vehement against these “drones” who
live in luxury at other men’s cost; and he charges them with getting a large
portion of the soil into their possession under false pretences of
religion. The emperor Julian can find nothing worse to say against the
pretenders to the character of cynics than that they are like the class of
“renunciants” among the “Galileans”, who, by giving up such trifles as they
possess, acquire wealth, state, and reverence. In like manner Eunapius speaks of the monks as leading a “swinish life”;
he says that any one who chooses to dress
in black and to disregard public decency may acquire
a tyrannic power. If a comparison with the circumcellions,
which St. Augustine is very eager to rebut, was undeserved by the monks of
northern Africa, it would have done but little injustice to those of some other
regions.
The monastic
spirit soon began to exhibit itself in extravagant forms. Thus the doscoi, or grazers, whose manner of life originated
in Mesopotamia, but was afterwards imitated in Palestine, dwelt in mountains or
deserts, without any roof to shelter them—exposed, almost entirely naked, to
the heat and to the cold, and browsing on grass and herbs until, both in body
and in mind, they lost the likeness of humanity. Others of these
Christian fakirs, after having professedly attained a perfection
superior to all human feelings, used to feign madness, and to astonish the
inhabitants of cities by ostentatious displays of ridiculous and unseemly behaviour,
in order (as it was interpreted) to show their contempt for worldly glory. And
in the beginning of the fifth century appeared the fanaticism of
the stylites, or pillar-saints.
The first of
these, Simeon, a native of the border-land between Syria and Cilicia, was
employed in boyhood to tend his father's sheep; but, having been induced by
some words which he heard in church to resolve on embracing a religious life,
he entered a strict monastery at the age of thirteen, and remained there nine
years. His abstinences and other mortifications excited the wonder and
admiration of the monks. One day, on being sent to draw water, he took the
rough palm-rope of the convent well, bound it tightly round him, and pretended
that he had been unable to find it. At the end of a fortnight, the secret was
betrayed by the drops of blood which the rope forced out from his flesh; and,
on examination, it was found to have eaten into his body so deeply that it
could hardly be seen. Simeon bore without a groan the torture of
having it extracted, but would not allow any remedies to be applied to his
wounds; and the abbot thereupon begged that he would leave the monastery, lest
his severities should raise a spirit of emulation which might be dangerous to
the weaker brethren. Simeon then withdrew to a place about forty
miles from Antioch, where he lived ten years in a sort of narrow pen; after
which he built a pillar, and took his position on the top of it, which was only
about a yard in diameter. He removed successively from one pillar to another,
always increasing the height, which in the last of them was forty cubits; and
in this way he spent thirty-seven years. His life is compared to that of
angels—offering up prayers for men from his elevated station, and bringing down
graces on them. His neck was loaded with an iron chain. In praying, he bent his
body so that his forehead almost touched his feet; a spectator once counted
twelve hundred and forty-four repetitions of this movement, and then lost his
reckoning. The stylite took only one scanty meal a-week, and fasted
throughout the season of Lent. He uttered prophecies, and wrought an abundance
of miracles.
Some time after he had adopted his
peculiar manner of life, a neighbouring society of monks sent to ask
why he was not content with such fashions of holiness as had sufficed for the
saints of earlier days. The messenger was charged to bid him leave his pillar,
and, in case of a refusal, to pull him down by force. But Simeon, on
hearing the order, put forth one of his feet, as if to descend; whereupon the
messenger, as he had been instructed, acknowledged this obedience as a proof
that the stylite’s mode of life was approved by God, and desired him
to continue in it.
Simeon’s fame
became immense. Pilgrims from distant lands—from Persia and Ethiopia, from
Spain, Gaul, and even from Britain—flocked to see him; and during his own
lifetime little figures of him were set up in the workshops of Rome, as charms
against evil. The king of Persia sent ambassadors to him; he corresponded with
bishops and emperors, and influenced the policy both of church and state,
while, by his life and his exhortations, he converted multitudes of Saracens
and other nomads of the desert.
At length the
devil appeared to Simeon in the form of an angel, and in the name of
God invited him to ascend, like Elijah, in a fiery chariot, to the company of
angels and saints who were represented as eager to welcome
him. Simeon raised his right foot to enter the chariot, but at the
same time made the sign of the cross, on which the tempter vanished. In
punishment of the stylite’s having so far given way to presumption,
the devil afflicted him with an ulcer in his thigh; and Simeon, by way of
penance, resolved that the foot which he had put forth should never again touch
his pillar, but during the remaining year of his life supported himself on one
leg. Simeon died in 460, at the age of seventy-two; and we are told
that around the spot which had long been his abode, all nature mourned his
departure. The birds wheeled about his pillar, uttering doleful cries; men and
beasts filled the air with their groans to a distance of many miles; while the
mountains, the forests, and the plains were enveloped in a dense and
sympathetic gloom. An angel with a countenance like lightning, and in raiment
white as snow, appeared discoursing with seven elders, in awful tones, of which
the words could not be distinguished; and as the precious body was carried to
Antioch, to serve the city as a defence, instead of the walls which had been
lately overthrown by an earthquake, a multitude of miracles marked its way.
On Simeon’s death,
a disciple named Sergius, in obedience to his
desire, carried his cowl to the emperor Leo; but, as the emperor did not appear
to be sufficiently impressed by the announcement of the legacy, Sergius bestowed it on Daniel, a monk of Mesopotamian
birth, whose sanctity had already been attested by many miracles. Daniel
had formerly visited Simeon; he was now urged by visions to imitate his
manner of life, and set up a pillar in a spot which had been indicated by a
dove, about four miles north of Constantinople. The owner of the soil, whose
leave had not been asked, complained of this invasion to Leo and to the
patriarch Gennadius; and Gennadius, envious of Daniel’s holiness, or suspecting him
of vanity, was about to dislodge him, when miracles were wrought in vindication
of the stylite’s motives. Daniel was therefore allowed to retain his
position, and after some time Gennadius, whose
suspicions were not yet extinct, was directed by a vision to ordain him to the
priesthood. The stylite professed himself unworthy, and would not allow
the patriarch to approach him; but Gennadius,
standing at the foot of the pillar, went through the form of ordination. Daniel
then ordered that a ladder should be brought; the patriarch mounted to the top
of the column, administered the Eucharist to the newly-ordained
priest, and received it at his hands.
For thirty-three
years Daniel continued to occupy his pillar, until he died at the age of
eighty. By continually standing, his feet were covered with sores and ulcers;
and it was in vain that his disciples endeavoured to discover by what
nourishment he supported life. The high winds of Thrace sometimes stripped him
of his scanty clothing, and almost blew him from his place, and sometimes he
was covered for days with snow and ice, until Leo forcibly enclosed the top of
his pillar with a shed. Like Simeon, he was supposed to possess the gifts
of prophecy and miracles; he was regarded as an oracle of heaven, and was
visited with reverence by kings and emperors. It is said that, through all the
temptations to pride which he so laboriously courted, Daniel was able to
preserve his humility; and, although general assertions of this kind carry little
weight, perhaps a better evidence may be found in the statement that he
discouraged all who approached him with complaints against their bishops.
Although
the stylite manner of life was regarded by some teachers as
vainglorious and unprofitable, Simeon found many imitators in Syria
and in Greece, where stylites are mentioned as late as the twelfth
century. But, except in a very few cases, this fashion does not appear to have
been adopted in other countries. When one Wulfilaich,
towards the end of the sixth century, attempted to practise it in the
district of Treves, the neighbouring bishops ordered his pillar to be
demolished.
Rites and Usages.
The more general
adoption of Christianity was followed by an increase of splendour in all
that concerned the worship of God. Churches were built and adorned with greater
cost; the officiating clergy were attired in gorgeous vestures; the music
became more elaborate, and many new ceremonies were introduced. But,
praiseworthy as was the design of making the outward service as worthy of its
object as the means of the worshippers would allow, the change was not
unaccompanied by serious evils, which even already began to produce their
effects. St. Jerome complains of the magnificence which was lavished on
churches—their marble walls and pillars, their gilded ceilings,
their jewelled altars—which he contrasts with the neglect of all care
in the choice of fit persons for the ministry; and he scornfully reprobates the
arguments which would defend the richness of furniture and decoration in
Christian churches by analogies derived from the Jewish system. Multitudes were
drawn into the church by the conversion of the emperor, without any sufficient
understanding of their new profession—with minds still possessed by heathen
notions and corrupted by the general depravation of heathen morality. The
governors of the church attempted to recommend the gospel to such converts by
ceremonies which might rival those of their old religion, and so, it was hoped,
might attract them to the true and saving essentials with which the Christian
ceremonies were connected. But unhappily Christianity itself lost in the
process—not only being discredited by unworthy professors, but becoming
affected in its doctrines and practices by heathenism. Pagan usages were
adopted,—the burning of lamps or candles by day (which, even so lately as the
time of Lactantius, had been a subject of
ridicule for the Christian controversialists), incense, lustrations, and the
like; and there was indeed too much foundation for the reproach with which the
Manichean Faustus assailed the church:— “The sacrifices of the heathen ye have
turned into feasts of charity; their idols into martyrs, whom
ye honour with the like religious offices unto theirs; the ghosts of
the dead ye appease with wine and delicates; the
festival days of the nations ye celebrate
together with them [as the kalends and the solstices]; and of their
kind of life ye have verily changed nothing”. A merely external performance of
duties, as it was all that heathenism required, came to be regarded by many as
sufficient in Christianity also, and bounty to the church was supposed to cover
the guilt of sins. St. Augustine says that an ordinary Christian who professed
any seriousness in spiritual things had as much to bear from the mockery of his
brethren as a convert to Christianity endured from the mockery of the heathen.
And we have already had occasion to notice the unfavourable effect
which the monastic system produced on the religion of men engaged in secular
life.
Many persons were
found at church for the great Christian ceremonies, and at the theatres, or
even at the temples, for the heathen spectacles. The ritual of the church was
viewed as a theatrical exhibition. The sermons were listened to as the displays
of rhetoricians; and eloquent preachers were cheered with clapping of hands,
stamping of feet, waving of handkerchiefs, cries of “Orthodox!” “Thirteenth
apostle!” and other like demonstrations, which such teachers as Chrysostom and
Augustine often tried to restrain, in order that they might persuade their
flocks to a more profitable manner of hearing. Some went to church for the
sermon only, alleging that they could pray at home. And when the more
attractive parts of the service were over, the great mass of the people
departed, without remaining for the administration of the Eucharist, which
in the first ages had usually been received by the whole congregation, but was
now (in the Greek church, at least) received by most persons at Easter only The
doctrinal controversies also, which occupy so large a space in the history of
the century, acted unfavourably on its religious tone, by bringing the
highest mysteries of the faith into idle discussion, and by throwing into the
background the necessity of a practically religious life.
Usages which had
grown up insensibly were now fixed by express regulations; and by this and the
other means which have been mentioned, the ritual system was so overlaid with
rules and ceremonies as to give occasion tor St. Augustine's well-known
complaint, “that they were grown to such a number that the state of Christian
people was in worse case concerning that matter than were the Jews”. Things
which would have been good either as expressions of devotion or as means of
training for it, became, through their multiplication and through the
importance which was attached to them, too likely to be regarded as independent
ends.
The heathen
temples were in some cases turned into churches; but, intended as they were for
a ritual which was chiefly carried on in the open courts, and of which
addresses to the people formed no part, their structure was ill suited for
Christian worship. The type of the Christian churches was taken from buildings
of another kind,—the basilicae; and the name
itself was adopted into ecclesiastical use, as signifying the dwelling-places
of the Almighty King. These buildings were oblong, and were usually separated
by two ranges of pillars into a middle part or nave, and two aisles of inferior
height. At the farther end was a portion styled in Greek bema, and in Latin tribuna, distinguished from the rest by the elevation of
its floor, and terminating in a semicircular projection, called the absis or apse. The
lower portion of the building was used as a sort of exchange; in the bema stood
the tribunal of the judge, with an altar before it. These arrangements were
easily accommodated to the purpose of worship, whether in basilicas which were
given up to the church, or in new buildings erected on the same plan.
At Constantinople,
from the foundation of the city, a new form of ecclesiastical architecture was
employed—its chief characteristics being the cruciform plan, and the cupola
which soared upwards from the intersection of the cross, as if in imitation of
the canopy of heaven. This style in later times not only prevailed through the
Greek church, including the countries of the Slavonic race, but was introduced
by Justinian at Ravenna, and through the influence of the Ravennese examples affected other parts of western
Europe.
Contrary to the
practice which afterwards became general among the Teutonic nations, the early
churches usually fronted the east. Paulinus of Nola mentions this
arrangement, and tells us that he himself, in building his church to
the honour of St. Felix, deviated from it by turning the front
towards the patron’s tomb.
The part of a
church nearest to the entrance was the narthex, or vestibule, occupied by
penitents and catechumens, and open to all comers. This was separated by the
“beautiful gates” from the nave, in which the "”faithful” were placed; at
the upper end of the nave, in a place corresponding to that which in the
secular basilicas was appropriated to the bar, was the choir, slightly raised
above the level of the nave, and separated by a railing from the innermost
portion of the church, the bema, or sanctuary. From the time of Constantine the
wooden altars of the primitive church began to be superseded by stone. The
introduction of this material is ascribed to Sylvester of Rome, although
without any certain authority, and the change appears to have been completely
established before the times of Gregory Nyssen and Chrysostom. Women
were seated apart from the men—sometimes in enclosed galleries, an arrangement
which was especially followed in eastern countries. The church was usually
surrounded by a court, containing the lodgings of the clergy and other
buildings, among which, in cathedrals and other greater churches, was the
baptistery. Churches were now dedicated with great solemnity, and the
anniversary of the consecration was celebrated.
The arts of
painting and sculpture began to be taken into the service of the gospel. This
change, however, did not originate with the clergy. Eusebius of Caesarea, in
the early part of the century, expressed himself strongly against the attempt
to represent the holy personages of Scripture—saying that the glory of
the Saviour cannot be represented, and that the true image of the
saints is a saintly life. Epiphanius, bishop of Constantia in Cyprus (whose
name will again come before us), while travelling in the Holy Land in 394, tore
a curtain, which he found hanging before the sanctuary of a church, with a
figure either of the Saviour or of a saint painted on it—declaring
such representations to be contrary to Scripture. But the account of the
incident shows that new views as to their lawfulness had already obtained a
footing among Christians. It was usual to depict subjects from the Old
Testament as figurative of their evangelical antitypes: thus the water from the
rock was employed to signify baptism; Moses bringing the manna from heaven
represented the Eucharist; and the sacrifice of Isaac typified the
crucifixion. In addition to these symbolical pictures, the walls of many
churches were covered with martyrdoms and scriptural scenes, and wealthy
persons had their garments embroidered with subjects of the same kinds. It was
not, however, until the very end of the century that single figures were thus
painted—a sort of pictures the most likely to attract the honour which
was soon bestowed on them. St. Augustine reluctantly confesses that in his time
many were “adorers of pictures”. Statues were not yet erected; nor was
the Saviour himself represented, otherwise than in symbolical
forms, until the next century; although the teachers of the church, abandoning
the earlier view as to the uncomeliness of his personal appearance,
took up one of an opposite kind, and thus prepared the way for the introduction
of that type on which the artists of later ages have expressed their ideal of
serene majesty and tenderness.
The cross was
adorned with gems and gold, and was perhaps set upon the altars of churches.
Julian charged the Christians with worshipping it. But the crucifix, like all
other representations of our Lord which are associated with sorrow and
suffering, was not known until some centuries later.
BAPTISM.
During the fourth
century much was done to fix those parts of the liturgy which until then had
been fluctuating. The name of St. Basil in the east, and that of St. Ambrose
in the west, are especially celebrated in relation to this work, although both
have been connected with much that is of later date. The hymns of Ambrose
became the models for such compositions in the western church, and, from the
general designation of the style as Ambrosian, it came to pass that many
pieces were wrongly ascribed to him, as if they had been the productions of
his own pen.
The division of
the service into the “mass of the catechumens” and the “mass of the faithful”
was maintained, until, in the fifth century, its abolition naturally followed
on the general profession of Christianity and the general practice of infant
baptism. Now that the celebration of Christian worship was not attended with
danger, the earlier portion of the service—including psalmody, reading of
Scripture, prayers, and sermon—was open to Jews and heathens, as well as to
catechumens and penitents.
At baptism some
new ceremonies were introduced—as the use of lights and salt, and an unction
with oil before baptism (significant of the receivers being “made kings and
priests unto God”, in addition to that with chrism, which continued to be
administered after the sacrament). The previous training was methodized by a
division of the catechumens into three classes, hearers, kneelers, and competents, the last being candidates who were fully
prepared. The vigils of Easter and Pentecost were, as before, the most usual
times for baptism. In the east, the Epiphany became popular as a baptismal
season, connected as it was with the Saviour’s baptism in the Jordan,
and the administration at Whitsuntide was disused. The custom of baptizing on
the Epiphany also made its way into Africa and other western countries; but
when some Spanish bishops baptized at Christmas, Epiphany, and on the festivals
of saints, Siricius, in his
decretal epistle to Himerius (A.D.
385), noted it as a presumption, and ordered that baptism should not ordinarily
be given except at Easter and Whitsuntide.
The practice of
deferring baptism has been exemplified in many instances in the preceding
chapters. The delay, however, did not arise from any opinion that the baptism
of infants was unlawful (for in case of danger they were baptized, and the
institution was regarded as apostolical), but from fear lest a greater guilt
should be contracted by falling into sin after baptism. And the time to which
the sacrament was postponed was not, as with modern sectaries, that of
attaining to years of discretion; but the season of serious illness or other
danger, or, in the case of clergymen and monks, that of entering on a new and
strict manner of life. Eminent teachers of the church, a Gregory of Nazianzum and his namesake of
Nyssa, endeavoured to counteract the custom by exposing the mistakes
on which it rested. Gregory of Nyssa states that, when alarmed by earthquakes,
pestilence, or other public calamities, such multitudes rushed to be baptized,
that the clergy were oppressed by the labour of receiving them.
The customs of
churches varied as to the frequency of celebrating the Eucharist. Where there
was no daily consecration, it was usual to reserve the consecrated bread, which
thus became liable to be used for superstitious purposes; as we are told
that Satyrus, a brother of St. Ambrose, was
saved in a shipwreck by tying a morsel of the holy bread to his neck; and that
in another case the application of such bread, by way of a poultice, opened the
eyes of a blind person. When the elements were consecrated, the people partook
of both; to refuse the wine was noted as a token of Manichaean heresy.
The name of agape
was now used in a sense different from that which it had originally borne—to
designate festivals held by churches at the tombs of their martyrs, or by
families at those of their relatives. These festivals took the place of the heathen Parentalia, and were celebrated with so much of
unseemliness and excess that bishops and councils, during the latter part of
the century, exerted themselves to suppress them. But so great a hold had such
celebrations on the multitude, that the abolition of them was no easy matter,
and could hardly be attempted without danger. Thus the third council of
Carthage, in 397, does not venture to forbid them, except as far as possible
and notices of them are found as having continued in some places until the following
century
The Lord's day was
observed with greater strictness than before, although the distinction between
it and the Sabbath, as to origin, authority, and manner of observance, was
still carefully maintained. Constantine, as we have seen, ordered that no legal
proceedings and no military exercises should take place on it; yet he allowed
agricultural labour to be carried on, lest the benefit
of favourable weather should be lost. The council of Laodicea, while
it condemned all Judaizing in the observance of the day, directed
that labour should be avoided on it as much as possible. Theodosius
in 379, and again in 386, enacted that no civil business should then be done,
and abolished the spectacles in which the heathen had found their consolation
when the day was set apart from other secular uses by Constantine.
The custom of
observing the Sabbath in a similar manner to the Lord's day was now declining.
The Laodicean canon, which has just been quoted, denounced a
cessation from work on it as Judaical.
The quartodeciman practice as to the observance of Easter
was condemned by the council of Nicaea, and was thenceforth regarded as a mark
of heterodoxy. But as the council did not direct by what means the proper day
should be determined, it was found that, although Easter was everywhere kept on
a Sunday, the reckonings of different churches varied, sometimes to the extent
of a month or more. The science of Alexandria gave the law to the eastern
churches in general; and in the sixth century the Alexandrian calculation was
adopted at Rome.
The tendency of
the age to an increase of ceremonies affected the celebration of Easter. The
week before the festival was observed with additional solemnity. On the
Thursday the Eucharist was celebrated in the evening, in special
remembrance of its original institution; on Easter-eve, ‘the great Sabbath’,
cities were illuminated, and crowds of worshippers, carrying lights, symbolical
of the baptismal "enlightening," flocked to the churches, where they
continued in vigil until the morning of the resurrection. The following week
was a season of rejoicing; the newly-baptized wore their white robes until the
Sunday of the octave.
The Epiphany now
made its way from the eastern churches into the west, where it was kept chiefly
in remembrance of our Lord's manifestation to the magi, but also with a
reference to his first miracle and other manifestations. As
the Donatists rejected the festival, we may infer that it must have
been unknown in Africa until after the date of their separation from the
church; the earliest express notice of its celebration in any western country
is in 360, when Julian kept it at Vienne, shortly before avowing his apostasy.
In like manner the observance of the Nativity passed from the west to the east.
It was introduced at Antioch soon after 375, and was there kept on the 25th of
December, although some churches combined it with the Epiphany. The idea that
our Christmas-day was chosen from a wish to compensate for the heathen
festivals of the season is refuted by the fact that the policy of the earlier
Christians, from whom it had come down, met the festivities of the heathen by
appointing not feasts, but fasts. Thus, in the west, a fast of three days at
the beginning of the year was established in opposition to the Saturnalia.
The festivals of
some of the most distinguished saints, such as St. Peter and St. Paul, St. John
the Baptist and St. Stephen, from having had only a local celebration, became,
in the fourth century, general throughout the church.
The practice of
fasting, which had formerly been left in great measure to the discretion of
individuals, was now settled by ecclesiastical laws. The Lenten fast, of
thirty-six days, "a tithe of the year", became general both in the
east and in the west, although with a difference as to its beginning, from the
circumstance that in the east the Sabbath, as well as the Lord's day, was
excepted from the time of fasting.
Acts of mercy were
connected with certain holy days and seasons. Thus Constantine ordered that the
emancipation of slaves should take place on Sundays. While he forbade legal
proceedings in general on Sunday, he excepted the ceremony of emancipation, and
such other acts of grace as were suitable to the character of the day. Easter
became the chief season for emancipation. Theodosius in 380 forbade the
carrying on of criminal law- proceedings during Lent Nine years later he issued
a like prohibition of all bodily punishments during the same season; and in 387
he renewed the laws of the elder and younger Valentinians, by which it was
ordered that all prisoners, except those guilty of the very worst offences,
should be released at Easter.
PENANCE.
During the course
of the century many canons were made on the subject of penance, which was thus
carried into great minuteness of detail. In the east the regulation of penance
was ordinarily left to the consciences of individuals; especially after Nectarius, in consequence of a scandal which had occurred,
abolished the office of penitentiary presbyter at Constantinople in 391.
Socrates, who wrote about the year 439, expresses an apprehension of evil
results from the abolition, and Sozomen,
somewhat later, states that a deterioration of morals had ensued. The
office of penitentiary does not appear to have existed in the west and there
the performance of formal penance came to be regarded as necessary in order to
the Divine forgiveness. The ancient division of penitents into classes is not
mentioned after the fifth century.
The honours paid
to martyrs were naturally increased, as, from the cessation of persecution, the
opportunities of martyrdom became very rare. And the influence of heathenism
told most unhappily in this matter. Converts regarded the martyrs as holding a
place in their new religion like that of the heroes in the pagan system; they
ascribed to them a tutelary power, and paid them honours such as
those which belonged to the lesser personages of the pagan mythology. Nor was
the Arian controversy without its effect in directing men's minds unduly towards
the saints and martyrs. For, as the great object of orthodox controversialists,
in the fourth century, was to vindicate the Saviour’s divinity, and
thus his manhood was comparatively little spoken of, he was now in thought
removed further from mankind; a want of less exalted intercessors was felt, and
a reverence for nearer objects grew up. From the middle of the century it
became usual to deliver panegyrical orations on the days assigned to
the commemoration of martyrs. The preachers, feeling themselves bound to make
the most of their subjects on such occasions, ran out into glorifications of
the martyrs, which, if at first intended only as rhetorical ornaments, were
soon converted into matter of doctrine. In addition to the earlier belief that
the martyrs interceded for their brethren, it was now supposed that they
were cognisant of wishes addressed to them. The popular heathen
opinion, that the spirits of the dead continued to hover about the
resting-places of their bodies, was combined with the idea that the souls of
the martyrs were already in the presence of God. Hence arose a practice of
invoking them at their graves, and requesting their intercession for all manner
of temporal as well as spiritual benefits; and by degrees such addresses came
to be put up irrespectively of place. Poetry too contributed to advance the
movement; the invocations which heathens had addressed to their gods and muses
were transferred by Christian poets to the saints. Other holy persons— as the
worthies of Scripture and distinguished monks—were soon associated with the
martyrs in the general veneration. Yet the prayers which had in earlier times
been offered up for saints and martyrs, in common with the rest of the faithful
departed, were retained, notwithstanding their growing inconsistency with the
prevalent belief, until in the beginning of the fifth century they were
abandoned as derogatory to the objects of them. Saints were, like the heathen
gods, chosen as special patrons, not only by individuals, but by cities. It was
not without plausible grounds that heathens, as Julian and Eunapius, began to retort on Christians the charge of
worshipping dead men, and that the Manicheans, as we have seen, joined in the
reproach. St. Augustine strenuously repelled it; he exhorted to an imitation of
saints in their holiness, and endeavoured, as did also St. Chrysostom, to
oppose the tendency towards an undue exaltation of them. But before his time
practices nearly akin to worship of the saints had too surely made their way
into the popular belief and feeling, as indeed Augustine is himself obliged to
confess.
The bodies of
martyrs began to be treated with special honour. Altars and chapels were
built over their graves; their relics were transferred from the original places
of burial, were broken up into fragments, of which each was supposed to possess
a supernatural virtue, and were deposited under the altars of churches. There
is no mention of such translations in the account of the churches built by
Constantine; but in the reign of Constantius some bodies, supposed to
be those of apostles, were found, and were solemnly removed to Constantinople.
We are told that remains of other Scripture saints, as far back as the prophet
Samuel, and even the patriarch Joseph, were afterwards discovered; and, in
order to prevent the risk of mistake as to bodies which had been lying in the
earth for hundreds or thousands of years, the saints themselves were said to
have appeared in visions, and to have revealed the places of their interment.
There was a readiness to believe that every grave of an unknown person- was
that of a martyr. St. Martin, it is said, by praying over a grave which had
been thus honoured, called up a shade of ferocious appearance, and forced the
supposed martyr to avow that he had been a robber, and had been executed for
his crimes.
It has been
already related that St. Antony disapproved of the Egyptian manner of showing
reverence for saints by keeping their bodies above ground, and took measures
for escaping such honours. St. Hilarion, the founder of monasticism
in Palestine, having died in Cyprus, one of his
disciples, Hesychius (who was himself afterwards canonized) stole his
body from the grave, and carried it off to the Holy Land. A rivalry ensued
between the places of the two interments,—the Cypriots maintaining that, if the
saint's body were in Palestine, his spirit remained with themselves; and
miracles were said to be performed at both. In another case, the possession of
the remains of some monks who had been slain by the Saracens was disputed with
bloodshed by the inhabitants of two neighbouring towns.
Relics were
supposed to work miracles; they were worn as amulets, and the churches in which
they were preserved were hung (although perhaps not before the next century)
with models of limbs which had been restored to strength through their virtue.
Pretended relics were imposed on the credulous, and various abuses arose. For
the purpose of restraining these, Theodosius enacted, m 386, that no one should
buy or sell the bodies of martyrs, or should translate them from one place to
another.
The blessed Virgin
Mary was not as yet honoured above other saints. The Collyridians, a party of female devotees who passed from
Thrace into Arabia in the last years of the century, are noted as heretics for
offering cakes to her with rites which were perhaps derived from the heathen
worship of Ceres. But with the growing admiration of the virgin life, of which
St. Mary was regarded as the type, there was a progress of feeling towards
opinions which became more decided during the controversies of the following
century. On the other hand, the perpetual virginity of
the Saviour’s mother was denied by the anomoean Eunomius, by some of the Apollinarians, by Helvidius, a Roman lawyer (A.D. 383), and Bonosus, bishop of Sardica (A.D.
392); and a sect of Antidico-marianites (adversaries
of Mary), called forth by the extravagances of the Collyridians,
is mentioned as having existed in Arabia.
Anything like
worship of angels was as yet supposed to be expressly forbidden by Scripture.
St. Ambrose is the only father of this age who recommends invocation of
guardian angels.
From the time of
the empress Helena’s visit to the Holy Land, a great impulse was given to the
practice of pilgrimage. It was supposed, not only that the view of scenes
hallowed by their association with the events of Scripture would enkindle or
heighten devotion, but that prayers would be especially acceptable if offered
up in particular spots; and, as had been the case under the heathen system,
some places were believed to be distinguished by frequent miracles. From all
quarters—even from the distant Britain—pilgrims flocked to the sacred sites of
Palestine, and on their return they carried home with them water from the
Jordan, earth from the Redeemer’s sepulchre, or chips of the true cross,
which was speedily found to possess the power of reproducing itself. Many, it
is said, were even led by their uncritical devotion to visit Arabia for the
purpose of beholding the dunghill on which the patriarch Job endured his
trials. Pilgrimage became a fashion, and soon exhibited the evil .
characteristics of a fashion, so that already warnings were uttered against the
errors and abuses which were connected with it. The monk St. Hilarion,
during his residence of fifty years in Palestine, visited the holy sites but
once, and for a single day—in order, as he said, that he might neither appear
to despise them on account of their nearness, nor to suppose that God’s grace
was limited to any particular place. St. Gregory of Nyssa wrote a treatise for
the express purpose of dissuading from pilgrimage. Among our Lord’s beatitudes,
he says, there is none for those who shall visit Jerusalem. For women the
pilgrimage must be at the least, distracting, since they cannot perform it
without male companions; and there is continual danger from the promiscuous
society of the hostelries on the way. The Saviour is no longer bodily in
the holy places; He and the Holy Spirit are not confined to Jerusalem. Change
of place will not bring God nearer to us : wherever we are, He will come to us,
if our hearts be a fit abode for Him to dwell in and walk in : but if the inner
man be full of evil thoughts, although we were at Golgotha, on the Mount of
Olives, or at the memorial of the Resurrection, we are as far from receiving
Christ within us as they who have not even begun to feel Him. For himself,
Gregory says that he had made the pilgrimage, not out of curiosity, but on his
way to a council in Arabia, and had escaped the usual dangers by travelling in
an imperial carriage, and in the company of religious brethren: yet the sight
of the localities had added nothing to his belief of the nativity, the
resurrection, of the ascension; while the desperate wickedness of the
inhabitants had proved to him that there could be no special grace in the
places, and had taught him to value more highly than before the religion of his
own Cappadocia. Monks (he says) ought to endeavour to go on
pilgrimage from the body to the Lord, rather than from Cappadocia to Palestine.
Even Jerome—although he had fixed his abode in the Holy Land, and although in
some of his writings he expatiates on the influence of its hallowed
associations—yet elsewhere very earnestly warns against the delusions by which
the multitude of pilgrims was led thither. “It is not matter of praise”, he
tells Paulinus, “to have been at Jerusalem, but to have lived religiously at
Jerusalem”. The scenes of the crucifixion and of the resurrection are
profitable to such as bear their own cross and daily rise again with Christ—to
those who show themselves worthy of so eminent a dwelling-place. But as for
those who say ‘The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord’—let them hear
the apostle’s words—‘Ye are the temple of the Lord, and the Holy Spirit dwelleth in
you’. The court of heaven is open to access from Jerusalem and from Britain
alike; for the kingdom of God is within you”
Opposition to the Tendencies of the Age.
The novel ideas
and practices which were introduced into the church excited the mockery of the
older sects —such as the Novatianists and
the Manichaeans— who loudly charged the Catholics with paganism.
The teachers of the age could not fail to discern and to reprobate some of the
growing corruptions, and attempted to counteract them. But they bore with, and
even encouraged, much that eventually proved mischievous—partly from a desire
to facilitate the progress of the gospel and to deal tenderly with converts
partly from a regard to the pious intention which lay under strange and
injudicious manifestations, or from a want of that historical experience which
would have enabled them to detect the lurking germs of evil. On the other hand,
there were persons who decidedly set themselves against the tendencies of the
time; but unhappily with such a mixture of error in their own opinions, and
sometimes with such indiscretion in their conduct, as excited a general odium,
and served to strengthen the cause which they opposed. Two of these, Helvidius and Bonosus,
have lately been mentioned; the former was encountered by St. Jerome, the
latter by St. Ambrose.
Aerius, a presbyter of Sebaste, in the Lesser Armenia, was of earlier date—about
A.D. 360. He is described by Epiphanius as an Arian; but his notoriety arose
from his attacks on the discipline and observances of the church.
In consequence, it is said, of having been disappointed in his aspirations
to the bishopric of Sebaste, he began to assert
that bishops and presbyters were equal—an opinion which in those days was
altogether new, since almost all the sects had at their outset been careful to
obtain episcopal ordination for their ministers, and even those which had
departed from the usual form of polity had acknowledged the necessity of a
graduated hierarchy. Yet although Aerius denied
the Divine institution of episcopacy, he appears to have admitted its
lawfulness. He denied the utility of stated fasts, and of prayers and alms for
the departed; his followers, in determined opposition to the church, chose
Sunday for their occasional fasts, while they ate freely on the fourth and
sixth days of the week, and spent the penitential part of the paschal season in
feasting. It would seem, indeed, that Aerius altogether
objected to the celebration of Easter; although some writers have supposed that
his objections were directed only against the practice of eating the paschal
lamb, which had been retained until his time in some churches, and which he
regarded as a remnant of Judaism.
Among the western
opponents of the prevailing system was Jovinian,
a monk of Rome, who began to publish his opinions about A.D. 388. Although he
did not forsake his monastic profession, one of his chief tenets was a denial
of the superiority usually ascribed to celibacy. He denied the perpetual
virginity of the Redeemer's mother, and maintained that, if single and married
persons were equal in other respects, their conditions were also equal. He
combated the exaggerated reverence which was attached to the act of martyrdom.
He denied the merit of fasting, and the distinctions of food. He maintained,
with a strange perversion of Scripture texts, that there was no other
distinction between men than the grand division into righteous and wicked; that
there was no difference of grades in either class, and that there would
hereafter be no difference of degrees in rewards or in punishments. Whosoever
had been truly baptized had, according to Jovinian,
nothing further to gain by progress in the Christian life; he had only to
preserve that which was already secured to him. But the baptism which Jovinian regarded as true was different from the
sacrament of the church; indeed, he altogether set aside the idea of the
visible church. The true baptism, he said, was a baptism of the Spirit,
conferring indefectible grace, so that they who had it could not be overcome by
the devil. If any one, after receiving the
baptismal sacrament, fell into sin, it was a proof that he had never received
inward baptism; but such a person might, on repentance, yet be made partaker of
the true spiritual baptism. All sins were regarded by Jovinian as
equal; nor did he admit any difference as to guilt between those which were
committed before baptism and those which followed after it.
With such
doctrines there was naturally connected an insufficient idea as to the
importance of individual sins. Jovinian’s opinions
were favoured by the popular feeling at Rome, where he made numerous
converts, and induced many persons of both sexes, who had before embraced the
celibate life, to marry; but among the clergy he found no adherents. After
having been condemned and excommunicated in 390, by a synod under Siricius, he repaired to Milan, m the hope of
finding favour with Theodosius; but Ambrose had been warned against
him by Siricius, and the Roman sentence was
repeated at Milan. Jerome wrote against him with violent personality, and in so
doing exaggerated the merits of celibacy to such a degree as to give Jovinian’s cause an advantage, while his own friends
were dismayed at his indiscretion. Pammachius (who
had married a daughter of Paula, and on her death had renounced eminent wealth
and station to become a monk) endeavoured, although in vain, to suppress
the treatise; and, in order to take off the effects of its extravagance,
Augustine wrote in a more moderate strain a book "Of the Good of
Marriage". Nothing further is known of Jovinian.
Jerome speaks of him as dead in 404; yet it has been conjectured that he was
the same who, under the name of Jovian, was charged eight years later with
disturbing the Roman church by holding religious meetings, and was sentenced by
an edict of Honorius to be severely beaten and afterwards banished.
Another of
Jerome's adversaries may be fitly noticed in this place, although he did not
appear until somewhat later than the time embraced in the preceding chapters.
Vigilantius was the son
of an innkeeper at Calagurris (Hourra, or Caskres), on the
French side of the Pyrenees. After having been employed in early youth in his
father's trade, he was taken into the household of Sulpicius Severus,
the biographer of St. Martin, where he enjoyed the opportunity of applying
himself to letters; and he was advanced to the order of presbyter.
Through Sulpicius he became acquainted with
Paulinus, a noble Aquitanian of Roman family, who, after having
filled high secular offices—even, it is said, the consulship— forsook the
world, was forcibly ordained a presbyter at Barcelona, and settled at Nola in
Campania, in order that he might be near the tomb of St. Felix, a confessor of
the time of Decius. Paulinus may be regarded as an example of the
manner in which the spirit of the age acted on a religious and enthusiastic
mind. In the fervour of penitence for a life of which he probably
exaggerated the sinfulness, he persuaded his wife Terasia to
renounce the married estate, sold all her property as well as his own, and
lived monastically with a few companions in the practice of works of piety and
charity. His reverence for saints was carried to an extent beyond that which
had as yet become usual. He devoted himself especially to St. Felix: he built a
church over the tomb, and adorned it with paintings, among which were scenes
from the Old Testament and a symbolical representation of the Trinity. Every
year, on the festival of the confessor, Paulinus produced a poem in
celebration of his life or miracles; every year he repaired to Rome for
the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul. The example and influence of a person
so distinguished by rank and so devout in life, who was the correspondent of
Jerome, Augustine, Rufinus, and others of the
most eminent among his contemporaries, could not fail to advance greatly the
superstitions to which he was addicted.
Vigilantius, after having
visited Paulinus at Nola, set out for the east, being furnished by
him with a letter of introduction to Jerome, which procured for him an
honourable reception from the recluse of Bethlehem. But disagreements soon
arose. Vigilantius accused Jerome
of Origenism, and although he retracted the charge before leaving
Bethlehem, he again asserted it in his own country.
Some time after his return to the
west, Vigilantius began to vent peculiar
opinions. He assailed the prevailing excess of reverence for departed saints;
he maintained that their souls, which existed “in Abraham’s bosom, or in the
place of rest, or under God's altar”, could not be present at their tombs; he
denied the possibility of their intercession after death, and the miracles
which were reported to be wrought at their graves. Miracles (he said) were
beneficial to unbelievers only; by which he seems to have implied that, as the
power of working them had been given for the conviction of the Jews and
heathens, the time in which they might be expected was past. He attacked the
veneration of relics as idolatrous, and the lighting of candles at the tombs of
saints in the daytime as a pagan superstition. He wished that all vigils except
that of Easter should be abolished, and spoke of them as giving occasion to
debauchery. He denied the usefulness of fasting, continence, and monasticism,
and regarded the profession of chastity as a source of corruption. He
maintained that it was better to retain property, and to bestow of it by
degrees for pious and charitable purposes, than at once to relinquish the
whole; and that it was better to seek for objects of charity at home than to
send money to Jerusalem.
Jerome, whose old
animosity against Vigilantius was revived
by the publication of these doctrines, attacked him with the most furious
abuse. He reproached him with having been a tapster, and told him that he now
applied to Holy Scripture the same tricks of falsification which he had
formerly practised on the wine which he dispensed and on the money
which he gave in change; that he opposed fasting, continence and sobriety,
because they interfered with the profits of his early trade. The argumentative
part of the pamphlet cannot be described as very happy. Jerome partly denies
the existence of the superstitions which Vigilantius had
censured—or, at least, he denies that they existed as anything more than
popular usages, unsanctioned by the church; and, by way of overwhelming his
opponent, he asks how he can presume to question practices which had been
approved by emperors and bishops.
In justice
to Vigilantius, it ought to be remembered that
our only knowledge of his opinions comes from a very violent and unscrupulous
adversary. They would seem to have been produced by a reaction from the system
in which he had been for a time engaged—the system exemplified in his
patron Sulpicius, in Paulinus, and more
coarsely in Jerome. It is a circumstance greatly in his favour that,
to the vexation of his opponents, his own bishop showed him countenance, and
that he found other supporters in the episcopal order; and although we may
hesitate to acquit him of error, there can be little doubt that it is an abuse
of language to brand him with the title of heretic.
Nothing is known
of the later history of Vigilantius. His
doctrines —urged probably with a blamable vehemence
and confidence— were so much opposed to the current of the time, that they did
not require a council to condemn them; and they were soon obliterated by the
Vandal invasion, to which it has been conjectured that their author himself may
have fallen a victim.
At the end of a
period so full of controversy as the fourth century, I may advert to an
objection which has often been brought against preceding writers, and to which
I cannot but feel that my own work is liable, in common with theirs. It is said
that Church-history, as it is usually written, is only a record of quarrels;
and wishes are expressed for a history which should more fully display the
fruits of the gospel for good. On some such principle Milner wrote; but if the
required book were possible, it cannot be said that Milner has superseded the
need of further labours in the same line. I believe, however, that
the plausible objection in question is founded on a misconception.
Church-history must follow the analogy of secular history. As the one deals in
detail with wrongs and calamities, with wars, with intrigues, with factions,
but must pass over with mere general words the blessings of prosperity, and
must leave utterly unnoticed the happiness which is enjoyed not only under good
governments, but even notwithstanding the very worst; so the other must dwell
on the sad story of errors and contentions, and must allow the better side to
remain untold. It is not the “peace on earth”, but the “sword” that must be its
theme. History takes cognizance of men only as they affect other men; of things
only as they differ from the everyday course. In Church history, even saints
appear too commonly in their least favourable aspect. The occasions
which bring them forward are often such as to draw forth their defects rather
than their excellencies. Their better part, in so far as it can be written,
belongs mainly not to history, but to biography; nay, even of noted and
illustrious saints, the highest graces are not matter even for biography; they
cannot be written on earth. And the great and immeasurable blessings of the
gospel do not consist in the production here and there of a conspicuous hero of
the faith, but in its effect on the vast unrecorded multitudes whom it has
guided in life, whom it has comforted in trouble, whose death it has filled
with the hope of immortality. Unrecorded as these things have been, we yet
cannot doubt of their reality, but are assured that the same benefits
which we witness in our own day and in our own sphere must in all times have
flowed from the same enduring source. Instead, therefore, of requiring from a
historian of the church that which is foreign to the nature of his task, we
must read with the remembrance that the better portion of Christian history is
to be supplied by our own thoughts —thoughts grounded on a belief in the Divine
assurances, and confirmed by such opportunities as we may have enjoyed of
witnessing their fulfillment.