[Sidenote: (3.) Athanasius.]

Marcellus had fairly exposed himself to a doctrinal attack; other methods were used with Athanasius. They had material enough without touching doctrine. His election was disputed: Meletians and Arians complained of oppression: there were some useful charges of magic and political intrigue. At first, however, the Meletians could not even get a hearing from the Emperor. When Eusebius of Nicomedia took up their cause, they fared a little better. The attack had to be put off till the winter of 331, and was even then a failure. Their charges were partly answered by two presbyters of Athanasius who were on the spot; and when the bishop himself was summoned to court, he soon completed their discomfiture. As Constantine was now occupied with the Gothic war, nothing more could be done till 334. When, however, Athanasius was ordered to attend a council at Caesarea, he treated it as a mere cabal of his enemies, and refused to appear.

[Sidenote: The Council of Tyre (335).]

Next year the Eastern bishops gathered to Jerusalem to keep the festival of the thirtieth year of Constantine's reign and to dedicate his splendid church on Golgotha. But first it was a work of charity to restore peace in Egypt. A synod of about 150 bishops was held at Tyre, and this time the appearance of Athanasius was secured by peremptory orders from the Emperor. The Eusebians had the upper hand, though there was a strong minority. Athanasius brought nearly fifty bishops from Egypt, and others, like Maximus of Jerusalem and Alexander of Thessalonica, were willing to do justice. Athanasius was not accused of heresy, but, with more plausibility, of episcopal tyranny. His friends replied with reckless violence. Potammon aimed a bitter and unrighteous taunt at Eusebius of Caesarea. 'You and I were once in prison for the faith. I lost an eye: how did you escape?' Athanasius might perhaps have been crushed if his enemies had kept up a decent semblance of truth and fairness. But nothing was further from their thoughts than an impartial trial. Scandal succeeded scandal, till the iniquity culminated in the dispatch of an openly partizan commission to superintend the manufacture of evidence in Egypt. Maximus of Jerusalem and Paphnutius left the council, saying that it was not good that old confessors like them should share its evil deeds. The Egyptian bishops protested. Alexander of Thessalonica denounced the plot to the Emperor's representative. Athanasius himself took ship for Constantinople without waiting for the end of the farce, and the council condemned him by default. This done, the bishops went on to Jerusalem for the proper business of their meeting.

[Sidenote: Assembly at Jerusalem.]

The concourse on Golgotha was a brilliant spectacle. Ten years had passed since the still unrivalled assembly at Nicaea, and the veterans of the last great persecution must have been deeply moved at their meeting once again in this world. The stately ceremonial suited Maximus and Eusebius much better than the noisy scene at Tyre, and may for the moment have soothed the swelling indignation of Potammon and Paphnutius. Constantine had once more plastered over the divisions of the churches with a general reconciliation, but this time Athanasius was condemned and Arius received to communion. The heretic had long since left his exile in Illyricum, though we cannot fix the date of his recall. However, one winter the Emperor invited Arius and his friend Euzoius to Constantinople, where they laid before him a short and simple confession of their faith. It said nothing of the disputed points, but was not unorthodox as far as it went. Nor were they bishops, that the Nicene creed should be forced upon them. Constantine was therefore satisfied, and now directed them to lay it before the bishops at Jerusalem, who duly approved of it and received its authors to communion. In order to complete the work of peace, Athanasius was condemned afresh on the return of the commission from Egypt, and proceedings were begun against Marcellus of Ancyra.

[Sidenote: First exile of Athanasius.]

Meanwhile Constantine's dreams of peace were rudely dissipated by the sudden appearance of Athanasius before him in the streets of Constantinople. Whatever the bishops had done, they had plainly caused dissensions just when the Emperor was most anxious for harmony. An angry letter summoned the whole assembly straight to court. The meeting, however, was most likely dispersed before its arrival; at any rate, there came only a deputation of Eusebians. The result was unexpected. Instead of attempting to defend the council of Tyre, Eusebius of Nicomedia suddenly accused Athanasius of hindering the supply of corn for the capital. This was quite a new charge, and chosen with much skill. Athanasius was not allowed to defend himself, but summarily sent away to Trier in Gaul, where he was honourably received by the younger Constantine. On the other hand, the Emperor refused to let his place be filled up at Alexandria, and exiled the Meletian leader, John Archaph, 'for causing divisions.' To Constantinople came also Marcellus. He had kept away from the councils of Tyre and Jerusalem, and only came now to invite the Emperor's decision on his book. Constantine referred it as usual to the bishops, who promptly condemned it and deposed its author.

[Sidenote: Death of Arius.]

There remained only the formal restoration of Arius to communion at Constantinople. But the heretic was taken ill suddenly, and died in the midst of a procession the evening before the day appointed. His enemies saw in his death a judgment from heaven, and likened it to that of Judas. Only Athanasius relates it with reserve and dignity.

[Sidenote: Policy of Constantine.]

Upon the whole, Constantine had done his best for peace by leaving matters in an uneasy suspense which satisfied neither party. This seems the best explanation of his wavering. He had not turned Arian, for there is no sign that he ever allowed the decisions of Nicaea to be openly rejected inside the churches. Athanasius was not exiled for heresy, for there was no question of heresy in the case. The quarrel was ostensibly one of orthodox bishops, for Eusebius had signed the Nicene creed as well as Athanasius. Constantine's action seems to have been determined by Asiatic feeling. Had he believed the charge of delaying the corn-ships, he would have executed Athanasius at once. His conduct does not look like a real explosion of rage. The merits of the case were not easy to find out, but the quarrel between Athanasius and the Asiatic bishops was a nuisance, so he sent him out of the way as a troublesome person. The Asiatics were not all of them either Arians or intriguers. It was not always furtive sympathy with heresy which led them to regret the heresiarch's expulsion for doctrines which he disavowed; neither was it always partizanship which could not see the innocence of Athanasius. Constantine's vacillation is natural if his policy was to seek for unity by letting the bishops guide him.



CHAPTER IV.

THE COUNCIL OF SARDICA.

[Sidenote: Death of Constantine, May 22, 337.]

Constantine's work on earth was done. When the hand of death was on him, he laid aside the purple, and the ambiguous position of a Christian Caesar with it, and passed away in the white robe of a simple convert. Long as he had been a friend to the churches, he had till now put off the elementary rite of baptism, in the hope one day to receive it in the waters of the Jordan, like the Lord himself. Darkly as his memory is stained with isolated crimes, Constantine must for ever rank among the greatest of the emperors; and as an actual benefactor of mankind, he stands alone among them. Besides his great services to the Empire in his own time, he gave the civilization of later days a new centre on the Bosphorus, beyond the reach of Goth or Vandal. Bulgarians and Saracens and Russians dashed themselves in pieces on the walls of Constantinople, and the [Sidenote: A.D. 1204.] strong arms of Western and crusading traitors were needed at last to overthrow the old bulwark which for so many centuries had guarded Christendom. Above all, it was Constantine who first essayed the problem of putting a Christian spirit into the statecraft of the world. Hard as the task is even now, it was harder still in times when the gospel had not yet had time to form, as it were, an outwork of common feeling against some of the grosser sins. Yet whatever might be his errors, his legislation was a landmark for ever, because no emperor before him had been guided by a Christian sense of duty.

[Sidenote: Division of the Empire.]

The sons of Constantine shared the Empire among them 'like an ancestral inheritance.' Thrace and Pontus had been assigned to their cousins, Dalmatius and Hannibalianus; but the army would have none but Constantine's own sons to reign over them. The whole house of Theodora perished in the tumult except two boys—Gallus and Julian, afterwards the apostate Emperor. Thus Constantine's sons were left in possession of the Empire. Constantine II. took Gaul and Britain, the legions of Syria secured the East for Constantius, and Italy and Illyricum were left for the share of the youngest, Constans.

[Sidenote: Recall of Athanasius, 337.]

One of the first acts of the new Emperors was to restore the exiled bishops. Athanasius was released by the younger Constantine as soon as his father's death was known at Trier, and reached Alexandria in November 337, to the joy of both Greeks and Copts. Marcellus and the rest were restored about the same time, though not without much disturbance at Ancyra, where the intruding bishop Basil was an able man, and had formed a party.

[Sidenote: Character of Constantius.]

Let us now take a glance at the new Emperor of the East. Constantius had something of his father's character. In temperance and chastity, in love of letters and in dignity of manner, in social charm and pleasantness of private life, he was no unworthy son of Constantine; and if he inherited no splendid genius for war, he had a full measure of soldierly courage and endurance. Nor was the statesmanship entirely bad which kept the East in tolerable peace for four-and-twenty years. But Constantius was essentially a little man, in whom his father's vices took a meaner form. Constantine committed some great crimes, but the whole spirit of Constantius was corroded with fear and jealousy of every man better than himself. Thus the easy trust in unworthy favourites, which marks even the ablest of his family, became in Constantius a public calamity. It was bad enough when the uprightness of Constantine or Julian was led astray, but it was far worse when the eunuchs found a master too weak to stand alone, too jealous to endure a faithful counsellor, too easy-tempered and too indolent to care what oppressions were committed in his name, and without the sense of duty which would have gone far to make up for all his shortcomings. The peculiar repulsiveness of Constantius is not due to any flagrant personal vice, but to the combination of cold-blooded treachery with the utter want of any inner nobleness of character. Yet he was a pious emperor, too, in his own way. He loved the ecclesiastical game, and was easily won over to the Eusebian side. The growing despotism of the Empire and the personal vanity of Constantius were equally suited by the episcopal timidity which cried for an arm of flesh to fight its battles. It is not easy to decide how far he acted on his own likings and superstitions, how far he merely let his flatterers lead him, or how far he saw political reasons for following them. In any case, he began with a thorough dislike of the Nicene council, continued for a long time to hold conservative language, and ended after some vacillation by adopting the vague Homoean compromise of 359.

[Sidenote: Second exile of Athanasius, Lent, 339.]

Eusebian intrigue was soon resumed. Now that Constantine was dead, a schism could be set on foot at Alexandria; so the Arians were encouraged to hold assemblies of their own, and provided with a bishop in the person of Pistus, one of the original heretics deposed by Alexander. No fitter consecrator could be found for him than Secundus of Ptolemais, one of the two bishops who held out to the last against the council. The next move was the formal deposition of Athanasius by a council held at Antioch in the winter of 338. But there was still no charge of heresy—only old and new ones of sedition and intrigue, and a new argument, that after his deposition at Tyre he had forfeited all right to further justice by accepting a restoration from the civil power. This last was quite a new claim on behalf of the church, first used against Athanasius, and next afterwards for the ruin of Chrysostom, though it has since been made a pillar of the faith. Pistus was not appointed to the vacant see. The council chose Gregory of Cappadocia as a better agent for the rough work to be done. Athanasius was expelled by the apostate prefect Philagrius, and Gregory installed by military violence in his place. Scenes of outrage were enacted all over Egypt.

[Sidenote: Athanasius and Marcellus at Rome.]

Athanasius fled to Rome. Thither also came Marcellus of Ancyra, and ejected clerics from all parts of the East. Under the rule of Constans they might meet with justice. Bishop Julius at once took the position of an arbiter of Christendom. He received the fugitives with a decent reserve, and invited the Eusebians to the council they had already asked him to hold. For a long time there came no answer from the East. The old heretic Carpones appeared at Rome on Gregory's behalf, but the envoys of Julius were detained at Antioch till January 340, and at last dismissed with an unmannerly reply. After some further delay, a synod of about fifty bishops met at Rome the following autumn. The cases were examined, Marcellus and Athanasius acquitted, and it remained for Julius to report their decision to the Easterns.

[Sidenote: The letter of Julius.]

His letter is one of the ablest documents of the entire controversy. Nothing can be better than the calm and high judicial tone in which he lays open every excuse of the Eusebians. He was surprised, he says, to receive so discourteous an answer to his letter. But what was their grievance? If it was his invitation to a synod, they could not have much confidence in their cause. Even the great council of Nicaea had decided (and not without the will of God) that the acts of one synod might be revised by another. Their own envoys had asked him to hold a council, and the men who set aside the decisions of Nicaea by using the services of heretics like Secundus, Pistus and Carpones could hardly claim finality for their own doings at Tyre. Their complaint that he had given them too short a notice would have been reasonable if the appointed day had found them on the road to Rome. 'But this also, beloved, is only an excuse.' They had detained his envoys for months at Antioch, and plainly did not mean to come. As for the reception of Athanasius, it was neither lightly nor unjustly done. The Eusebian letters against him were inconsistent, for no two of them ever told the same story; and they were, moreover, contradicted by letters in his favour from Egypt and elsewhere. The accused had come to Rome when summoned, and waited for them eighteen months in vain, whereas the Eusebians had uncanonically appointed an utter stranger in his place at Alexandria, and sent him with a guard of soldiers all the way from Antioch to disturb the peace of Egypt with horrible outrages. With regard to Marcellus, he had denied the charge of heresy and presented a very sound confession of his faith. The Roman legates at Nicaea had also borne witness to the honourable part he had taken in the council. Thus the Eusebians could not say that Athanasius and Marcellus had been too hastily received at Rome. Rather their own doings were the cause of all the troubles, for complaints of their violence came in from all parts of the East. The authors of these outrages were no lovers of peace, but of confusion. Whatever grievance they might have against Athanasius, they should not have neglected the old custom of writing first to Rome, that a legitimate decision might issue from the apostolic see. It was time to put an end to these scandals, as they would have to answer for them in the day of judgment.

[Sidenote: Criticism of it.]

Severe as the letter is, it contrasts well with the disingenuous querulousness of the Eusebians. Nor is Julius unmindful to press as far as possible the claims of the Roman see. His one serious mistake was in supporting Marcellus. No doubt old services at Nicaea counted heavily in the West. His confession too was innocent enough, being very nearly our so-called Apostles' Creed, here met for the first time in history.[12] Knowing, however, what his doctrine was, we must admit that the Easterns were right in resenting its deliberate approval at Rome.

[Footnote 12: It has even been ascribed to Marcellus; but it seems a little older. Its apostolic origin is of course absurd. The legend cannot be traced beyond the last quarter of the fourth century.]

[Sidenote: Council of the dedication at Antioch (341).]

The Eusebians replied in the summer of 341, when ninety bishops met at Antioch to consecrate the Golden Church, begun by Constantine. The character of the council is an old question of dispute. Hilary calls it a meeting of saints, and its canons have found their way into the authoritative collections; yet its chief work was to confirm the deposition of Athanasius and to draw up creeds in opposition to the Nicene. Was it Nicene or Arian? Probably neither, but conservative. The Eusebians seem to have imitated Athanasius in pressing a creed (this time an Arianizing one) on unwilling conservatives, but only to have succeeded in making great confusion. This was a new turn of their policy, and not a hopeful one. Constantine's death indeed left them free to try if they could replace the Nicene creed by something else; but the friends of Athanasius could accept no substitute, and even the conservatives could hardly agree to make the Lord's divinity an open question. The result was twenty years of busy creed-making, and twenty more of confusion, before it was finally seen that there was no escape from the dilemma which had been decisive at Nicaea.

[Sidenote: The Lucianic creed (second of Antioch).]

The Eusebians began by offering a meagre and evasive creed, much like the confession of Arius and Euzoius, prefacing it with a declaration that they were not followers of Arius, but his independent adherents. They overshot their mark, for the conservatives were not willing to go so far as this, and, moreover, had older standards of their own. Instead, therefore, of drawing up a new creed, they put forward a work of the venerated martyr Lucian of Antioch. Such it was said to be, and such in the main it probably was, though the anathemas must have been added now. This Lucianic formula then is essentially conservative, but leans much more to the Nicene than to the Arian side. Its central clause declares the Son of God 'not subject to moral change or alteration, but the unvarying image of the deity and essence and power and counsel and glory of the Father,' while its anathemas condemn 'those who say that there was once a time when the Son of God was not, or that he is a creature as one of the creatures.' These are strong words, but they do not in the least shut out Arianism. No doubt the phrase 'unvarying image of the essence' means that there is no change of essence in passing from the Father to the Son, and is therefore logically equivalent to 'of one essence' (homoousion); but the conservatives meant nothing more than 'of like essence' (homoiousion), which is consistent with great unlikeness in attributes. The anathemas also are the Nicene with insertions which might have been made for the very purpose of letting the Arians escape. However, the conservatives were well satisfied with the Lucianic creed, and frequently refer to it with a veneration akin to that of Athanasius for the Nicene. But the wire-pullers were determined to upset it. The confession next presented by Theophronius of Tyana was more to their mind, for it contained a direct anathema against "Marcellus and those who communicated with him." It secured a momentary approval, but the meeting broke up without adopting it. The Lucianic formula remained the creed of the council.

[Sidenote: The fourth creed.]

Defeated in a free council, the wire-pullers a few months later assembled a cabal of their own, and drew up a fourth creed, which a deputation of notorious Arianizers presented to Constans in Gaul as the genuine work of the council. It seems to have suited them better than the Lucianic, for they repeated it with increasing series of anathemas at Philippopolis in 343, at Antioch the next year, and at Sirmium in 351. We can see why it suited them. While in substance it is less opposed to Arianism than the Lucianic, its wording follows the Nicene, even to the adoption of the anathemas in a weakened form. Upon the whole, it is a colourless document, which left all questions open.

[Sidenote: Constans demands a council.]

The wording of the creed of Tyana was a direct blow at Julius of Rome, and is of itself enough to show that its authors were no lovers of peace. But Western suspicion was already roused by the issue of the Lucianic creed. There could no longer be any doubt that the Nicene faith was the real object of attack. Before the Eastern envoys reached Constans in Gaul, he had already written to his brother (Constantine II. was now dead) to demand a new general council. Constantius was busy with the Persian war, and could not refuse; so it was summoned to meet in the summer of 343. To the dismay of the Eusebians, the place chosen was Sardica in Dacia, just inside the dominions of Constans. After their failure with the Eastern bishops at Antioch, they could not hope to control the Westerns in a free council.

[Sidenote: Council of Sardica (343).]

To Sardica the bishops came. The Westerns were about ninety-six in number, 'with Hosius of Cordova for their father,' bringing with him Athanasius and Marcellus, and supported by the chief Westerns—Gratus of Carthage, Protasius of Milan, Maximus of Trier, Fortunatian of Aquileia, and Vincent of Capua, the old Roman legate at Nicaea. The Easterns, under Stephen of Antioch and Acacius of Caesarea, the disciple and successor of Eusebius, were for once outnumbered. They therefore travelled in one body, more than seventy strong, and agreed to act together. They began by insisting that the deposition of Marcellus and Athanasius at Antioch should be accepted without discussion. Such a demand was absurd. There was no reason why the deposition at Antioch should be accepted blindly rather than the acquittal at Rome. At any rate, the council had an express commission to re-open the whole case, and indeed had met for no other purpose; so, if they were not to do it, they might as well go home. The Westerns were determined to sift the whole matter to the bottom, but the Eusebians refused to enter the council. It was in vain that Hosius asked them to give their proofs, if it were only to himself in private. In vain he promised that if Athanasius was acquitted, and they were still unwilling to receive him, he would take him back with him to Spain. The Westerns began the trial: the Easterns left Sardica by night in haste. They had heard, forsooth, of a victory on the Persian frontier, and must pay their respects to the Emperor without a moment's delay.

[Sidenote: Acquittal of Marcellus and Athanasius.]

Once more the charges were examined and the accused acquitted. In the case of Marcellus, it was found that the Eusebians had misquoted his book, setting down opinions as his own which he had only put forward for discussion. Thus it was not true that he had denied the eternity of the Word in the past or of his kingdom in the future. Quite so: but the eternity of the Sonship is another matter. This was the real charge against him, and he was allowed to evade it. Though doctrinal questions lay more in the background in the case of Athanasius, one party in the council was for issuing a new creed in explanation of the Nicene. The proposal was wisely rejected. It would have made the fatal admission that Arianism had not been clearly condemned at Nicaea, and thrown on the Westerns the odium of innovation. All that could be done was to pass a series of canons to check the worst scandals of late years. After this the council issued its encyclical and the bishops dispersed.

[Sidenote: Rival council of Philippopolis.]

Meanwhile the Easterns (such was their haste) halted for some weeks at Philippopolis to issue their own encyclical, falsely dating it from Sardica. They begin with their main argument, that the acts of councils are irreversible. Next they recite the charges against Athanasius and Marcellus, and the doings of the Westerns at Sardica. Hereupon they denounce Hosius, Julius, and others as associates of heretics and patrons of the detestable errors of Marcellus. A few random charges of gross immorality are added, after the Eusebian custom. They end with a new creed, the fourth of Antioch, with some verbal changes, and seven anathemas instead of two.

[Sidenote: The fifth creed of Antioch (344).]

The quarrel of East and West seemed worse than ever. The Eusebians had behaved discreditably enough, but they had at least frustrated the council, and secured a recognition of their creed from a large body of Eastern conservatives. So far they had been fairly successful, but the next move on their side was a blunder and worse. When the Sardican envoys, Vincent of Capua and Euphrates of Cologne, came eastward in the spring of 344, a harlot was brought one night into their lodgings. Great was the scandal when the plot was traced up to the Eusebian leader, Stephen of Antioch. A new council was held, by which Stephen was deposed and Leontius the Lucianist, himself the subject of an old scandal, was raised to the vacant see. The fourth creed of Antioch was also re-issued with a few changes, but followed by long paragraphs of explanation. The Easterns adhered to their condemnation of Marcellus, and joined with him his disciple Photinus of Sirmium, who had made the Lord a mere man like the Ebionites. On the other hand, they condemned several Arian phrases, and insisted in the strongest manner on the mutual, inseparable, and, as it were, organic union of the Son with the Father in a single deity.

[Sidenote: Return of Athanasius (Oct. 346).]

This conciliatory move cleared the way for a general suspension of hostilities. Stephen's crime had discredited the whole gang of Eastern court intriguers who had made the quarrel. Nor were the Westerns unreasonable. Though they still upheld Marcellus, they frankly gave up and condemned Photinus. Meanwhile Constans pressed the execution of the decrees of Sardica, and Constantius, with a Persian war on his hands, could not refuse. The last obstacle was removed by the death of Gregory of Cappadocia in 345. It was not till the third invitation that Athanasius returned. He had to take leave of his Italian friends, and the Emperor's letters were only too plainly insincere. However, Constantius received him graciously at Antioch, ordered all the charges against him to be destroyed, and gave him a solemn promise of full protection for the future. Athanasius went forward on his journey, and the old confessor Maximus assembled the bishops of Palestine to greet him at Jerusalem. But his entry into Alexandria (Oct. 346) was the crowning triumph of his life. For miles along the road the great city streamed out to meet him with enthusiastic welcome, and the jealous police of Constantius could raise no tumult to mar the universal harmony of that great day of national rejoicing.

[Sidenote: Interval of rest (346-353.)]

The next few years were an uneasy interval of suspense rather than of peace, for the long contest had so far decided nothing. If the Nicene exiles were restored, the Eusebian disturbers were not deposed. Thus while Nicene animosity was not satisfied, the standing grounds of conservative distrust were not removed. Above all, the return of Athanasius was a personal humiliation for Constantius, which he was not likely to accept without watching his opportunity for a final struggle to decide the mastery of Egypt. Still there was tolerable quiet for the present. The court intriguers could do nothing without the Emperor, and Constantius was occupied first with the Persian war, then with the civil war against Magnentius. If there was not peace, there was a fair amount of quiet till the Emperor's hands were freed by the death of Magnentius in 353.

[Sidenote: Modification of Nicene position.]

The truce was hollow and the rest precarious, but the mere cessation of hostilities was not without its influence. As Nicenes and conservatives were fundamentally agreed on the reality of the Lord's divinity, minor jealousies began to disappear when they were less busily encouraged. The Eusebian phase of conservatism, which emphasised the Lord's personal distinction from the Father, was giving way to the Semiarian, where stress was rather laid on his essential likeness to the Father. Thus 'of a like essence' (homoiousion) and 'like in all things' became more and more the watchwords of conservatism. The Nicenes, on the other side, were warned by the excesses of Marcellus that there was some reason for the conservative dread of the Nicene 'of one essence' (homoousion) as Sabellian. The word could not be withdrawn, but it might be put forward less conspicuously, and explained rather as a safe and emphatic form of the Semiarian 'of like essence' than as a rival doctrine. Henceforth it came to mean absolute likeness of attributes rather than common possession of the divine essence. Thus by the time the war is renewed, we can already foresee the possibility of a new alliance between Nicenes and conservatives.

[Sidenote: Rise of Anomoeans.]

We see also the rise of a new and more defiant Arian school, more in earnest than the older generation, impatient of their shuffling diplomacy and less pliant to court influences. Aetius was a man of learning and no small dialectic skill, who had passed through many troubles in his earlier life and been the disciple of several scholars, mostly of the Lucianic school, before he came to rest in a clear and simple form of Arianism. Christianity without mystery seems to have been his aim. The Anomoean leaders took their stand on the doctrine of Arius himself, and dwelt with most emphasis on its most offensive aspects. Arius had long ago laid down the absolute unlikeness of the Son to the Father, but for years past the Arianizers had prudently softened it down. Now, however, 'unlike' became the watchword of Aetius and Eunomius, and their followers delighted to shock all sober feeling by the harshest and profanest declarations of it. The scandalous jests of Eudoxius must have given deep offence to thousands; but the great novelty of the Anomoean doctrine was its audacious self-sufficiency. Seeing that Arius was illogical in regarding the divine nature as incomprehensible, and yet reasoning as if its relations were fully explained by human types, the Anomoeans boldly declared that it is no mystery at all. If the divine essence is simple, man can perfectly understand it. 'Canst thou by searching find out God?' Yes, and know him quite as well as he knows me. Such was the new school of Arianism—presumptuous and shallow, quarrelsome and heathenising, yet not without a directness and a firmness of conviction which gives it a certain dignity in spite of its wrangling and irreverence. Its conservative allies it despised for their wavering and insincerity; to its Nicene opponents it repaid hatred for hatred, and flung back with retorted scorn their denial of its right to bear the Christian name.

[Sidenote: Illustration from the state of: (1.) Jerusalem.]

We may now glance at the state of the churches at Jerusalem and Antioch during the years of rest. Jerusalem had been a resort of pilgrims since the days of Origen, and Helena's visit shortly after the Nicene council had fully restored it to the dignity of a holy place. We still have the itinerary of a nameless pilgrim who found his way from Bordeaux to Palestine in 333. The great church, however, of the Resurrection, which Constantine built on Golgotha, was only dedicated by the council of 335. The Catecheses of Cyril are a series of sermons on the creed, delivered to the catechumens of that church in 348. If it is not a work of any great originality, it will show us all the better what was passing in the minds of men of practical and simple piety, who had no taste for the controversies of the day. All through it we see the earnest pastor who feels that his strength is needed to combat the practical immoralities of a holy city (Jerusalem was a scandal of the age), and never lifts his eyes to the wild scene of theological confusion round him but in fear and dread that Antichrist is near. 'I fear the wars of the nations; I fear the divisions of the churches; I fear the mutual hatred of the brethren. Enough concerning this. God forbid it come to pass in our days; yet let us be on our guard. Enough concerning Antichrist.' Jews, Samaritans, and Manichees are his chief opponents; yet he does not forget to warn his hearers against the teaching of Sabellius and Marcellus, 'the dragon's head of late arisen in Galatia.' Arius he sometimes contradicts in set terms, though without naming him. Of the Nicenes too, we hear nothing directly, but they seem glanced at in the complaint that whereas in former times heresy was open, the church is now full of secret heretics. The Nicene creed again he never mentions, but we cannot mistake the allusion when he tells his hearers that their own Jerusalem creed was not put together by the will of men, and impresses on them that every word of it can be proved by Scripture. But the most significant feature of his language is its close relation to that of the dated creed of Sirmium in 359. Nearly every point where the latter differs from the Lucianic is one specially emphasized by Cyril. If then the Lucianic creed represents the earlier conservatism, it follows that Cyril expresses the later views which had to be conciliated in 359.

[Sidenote: (2.) Antioch.]

The condition of Antioch under Leontius (344-357) is equally significant. The Nicene was quite as strong in the city as Arianism had ever been at Alexandria. The Eustathians formed a separate and strongly Nicene congregation under the presbyter Paulinus, and held their meetings outside the walls. Athanasius communicated with them on his return from exile, and agreed to give the Arians a church in Alexandria, as Constantius desired, if only the Eustathians were allowed one inside the walls of Antioch. His terms were prudently declined, for the Arians were a minority even in the congregation of Leontius. The old Arian needed all his caution to avoid offence. 'When this snow melts,' touching his white head, 'there will be much mud.' Nicenes and Arians made a slight difference in the doxology; and Leontius always dropped his voice at the critical point, so that nobody knew what he said. This policy was successful in keeping out of the Eustathian communion not only the indifferent multitude, but also many whose sympathies were clearly Nicene, like the future bishops Meletius and Flavian. But they always considered him an enemy, and the more dangerous for the contrast of his moderation with the reckless violence of Macedonius at Constantinople. His appointments were Arianizing, and he gave deep offence by the ordination of his old disciple, the detested Aetius. So great was the outcry that Leontius was forced to suspend him. The opposition was led by two ascetic laymen, Flavian and Diodorus, who both became distinguished bishops in later time. Orthodox feeling was nourished by a vigorous use of hymns and by all-night services at the tombs of the martyrs. As such practices often led to great abuses, Leontius may have had nothing more in view than good order when he directed the services to be transferred to the church.

[Sidenote: State of parties.]

The case of Antioch was not exceptional. Arians and Nicenes were still parties inside the church rather than distant sects. They still used the same prayers and the same hymns, still worshipped in the same buildings, still commemorated the same saints and martyrs, and still considered themselves members of the same church. The example of separation set by the Eustathians at Antioch and the Arians at Alexandria was not followed till a later stage of the controversy, when Diodorus and Flavian on one side, and the Anomoeans on the other, began to introduce their own peculiarities into the service. And if the bitterness of intestine strife was increased by a state of things which made every bishop a party nominee, there was some compensation in the free intercourse of parties afterwards separated by barriers of persecution. Nicenes and Arians in most places mingled freely long after Leontius was dead, and the Novatians of Constantinople threw open their churches to the victims of Macedonius in a way which drew his persecution on themselves, and was remembered in their favour even in the next century by liberal men like the historian Socrates.



CHAPTER V.

THE VICTORY OF ARIANISM.

[Sidenote: The West (337-350).]

Meanwhile new troubles were gathering in the West. While the Eastern churches were distracted with the crimes or wrongs of Marcellus and Athanasius, Europe remained at peace from the Atlantic to the frontier of Thrace. The western frontier of Constantius was also the western limit of the storm. Hitherto its distant echoes had been very faintly heard in Gaul and Spain; but now the time was come for Arianism to invade the tranquil obscurity of the West.

[Sidenote: Magnentian war, 350-353.]

Constans was not ill-disposed, and for some years ruled well and firmly. Afterwards—it may be that his health was bad—he lived in seclusion with his Frankish guards, and left his subjects to the oppression of unworthy favourites. Few regretted their weak master's fate when the army of Gaul proclaimed Magnentius Augustus (January 350). But the memory of Constantine was still a power which could set up emperors and pull them down. The old general Vetranio at Sirmium received the purple from Constantine's daughter, and Nepotianus claimed it at Rome as Constantine's nephew. The Magnentian generals scattered the gladiators of Nepotianus, and disgraced their easy victory with slaughter and proscription. The ancient mother of the nations never forgave the intruder who had disturbed her queenly rest with civil war and filled her streets with bloodshed. Meantime Constantius came up from Syria, won over the legions of Illyricum, reduced Vetranio to a peaceful abdication, and pushed on with augmented forces towards the Julian Alps, there to decide the strife between Magnentius and the house of Constantine. Both parties tried the resources of intrigue; but while Constantius won over the Frank Silvanus from the Western camp, the envoys of Magnentius, who sounded Athanasius, gained nothing from the wary Greek. The decisive battle was fought near Mursa, on the Save (September 28, 351). Both armies well sustained the honour of the Roman name, and it was only after a frightful slaughter that the usurper was thrown back on Aquileia. Next summer he was forced to evacuate Italy, and in 353 his destruction was completed by a defeat in the Cottian Alps. Magnentius fell upon his sword, and Constantius remained the master of the world.

[Sidenote: Renewal of the contest.]

The Eusebians were not slow to take advantage of the confusion. The fires of controversy in the East were smouldering through the years of rest, so that it was no hard task to make them blaze afresh. As the recall of the exiles was only due to Western pressure, the death of Constans cleared the way for further operations. Marcellus and Photinus were again deposed by a council held at Sirmium in 351. Ancyra was restored to Basil, Sirmium given to Germinius of Cyzicus. Other Eastern bishops were also expelled, but there was no thought of disturbing Athanasius for the present. Constantius more than once repeated to him his promise of protection.

[Sidenote: The Western bishops.]

Magnentius had not meddled with the controversy. He was more likely to see in it the chance of an ally at Alexandria than a matter of practical interest in the West. As soon, however, as Constantius was master of Gaul, he set himself to force on the Westerns an indirect condemnation of the Nicene faith in the person of Athanasius. Any direct approval of Arianism was out of the question, for Western feeling was firmly set against it by the council of Nicaea. Liberius of Rome followed the steps of his predecessor Julius. Hosius of Cordova was still the patriarch of Christendom, while Paulinus of Trier, Dionysius of Milan, and Hilary of Poitiers proved their faith in exile. Mere creatures of the palace were no match for men like these. Doctrine was therefore kept in the background. Constantius began by demanding from the Western bishops a summary and lawless condemnation of Athanasius. No evidence was offered; and when an accuser was asked for, the Emperor himself came forward, and this at a time when Athanasius was ruling Alexandria in peace on the faith of his solemn and repeated promises of protection.

[Sidenote: Council of Arles (Oct. 353).]

A synod was held at Arles as soon as Constantius was settled there for the winter. The bishops were not unwilling to take the Emperor's word for the crimes of Athanasius, if only the court party cleared itself from the suspicion of heresy by anathematizing Arianism. Much management and no little violence was needed to get rid of this condition; but in the end the council yielded. Even the Roman legate, Vincent of Capua, gave way with the rest, and Paulinus of Trier alone stood firm, and was sent away to die in exile.

[Sidenote: Council of Milan (Oct. 355).]

There was a sort of armed truce for the next two years. Liberius of Rome disowned the weakness of his legates and besought the Emperor to hold a new council. But Constantius was busy with the barbarians, and had to leave the matter till he came to Milan in the autumn of 355. There Julian was invested with the purple and sent as Caesar to drive the Alemanni out of Gaul, or, as some hoped, to perish in the effort. The council, however, was for a long time quite unmanageable, and only yielded at last to open violence. Dionysius of Milan, Eusebius of Vercellae, and Lucifer of Calaris in Sardinia were the only bishops who had to be exiled.

[Sidenote: Lucifer of Calaris.]

The appearance of Lucifer is enough to show that the contest had entered on a new stage. The lawless tyranny of Constantius had roused an aggressive fanaticism which went far beyond the claim of independence for the church. In dauntless courage and determined orthodoxy Lucifer may rival Athanasius himself, but any cause would have been disgraced by his narrow partisanship and outrageous violence. Not a bad name in Scripture but is turned to use. Indignation every now and then supplies the place of eloquence, but more often common sense itself is almost lost in the weary flow of vulgar scolding and interminable abuse. He scarcely condescends to reason, scarcely even to state his own belief, but revels in the more congenial occupation of denouncing the fires of damnation against the disobedient Emperor.

[Sidenote: Hilary of Poitiers.]

The victory was not to be won by an arm of flesh like this. Arianism had an enemy more dangerous than Lucifer. From the sunny land of Aquitaine, the firmest conquest of Roman civilization in Atlantic Europe, came Hilary of Poitiers, the noblest representative of Western literature in the Nicene age. Hilary was by birth a heathen, and only turned in ripe manhood from philosophy to Scripture, coming before us in 355 as an old convert and a bishop of some standing. He was by far the deepest thinker of the West, and a match for Athanasius himself in depth of earnestness and massive strength of intellect. But Hilary was a student rather than an orator, a thinker rather than a statesman like Athanasius. He had not touched the controversy till it was forced upon him, and would much have preferred to keep out of it. But when once he had studied the Nicene doctrine and found its agreement with his own conclusions from Scripture, a clear sense of duty forbade him to shrink from manfully defending it. Such was the man whom the brutal policy of Constantius forced to take his place at the head of the Nicene opposition. As he was not present at Milan, the courtiers had to silence him some other way. In the spring of 356 they exiled him to Asia, on some charge of conduct 'unworthy of a bishop, or even of a layman.'

[Sidenote: Hosius and Liberius.]

Meanwhile Hosius of Cordova was ordered to Sirmium and there detained. Constantius was not ashamed to send to the rack the old man who had been a confessor in his grandfather's days, more than fifty years before. He was brought at last to communicate with the Arianizers, but even in his last illness refused to condemn Athanasius. After this there was but one power in the West which could not be summarily dealt with. The grandeur of Hosius was merely personal, but Liberius claimed the universal reverence due to the apostolic and imperial See of Rome. It was a great and wealthy church, and during the last two hundred years had won a noble fame for world-wide charity. Its orthodoxy was without a stain; for whatever heresies might flow to the great city, no heresy had ever issued thence. The strangers of every land who found their way to Rome were welcomed from St. Peter's throne with the majestic blessing of a universal father. 'The church of God which sojourneth in Rome' was the immemorial counsellor of all the churches; and now that the voice of counsel was passing into that of command, Bishop Julius had made a worthy use of his authority as a judge of Christendom. Such a bishop was a power of the first importance now that Arianism was dividing the Empire round the hostile camps of Gaul and Asia. If the Roman church had partly ceased to be a Greek colony in the Latin capital, it was still the connecting link of East and West, the representative of Western Christianity to the Easterns, and the interpreter of Eastern to the Latin West. Liberius could therefore treat almost on the footing of an independent sovereign. He would not condemn Athanasius unheard, and after so many acquittals. If Constantius wanted to reopen the case, he must summon a free council, and begin by expelling the Arians. To this demand he firmly adhered. The Emperor's threats he disregarded, the Emperor's gifts he flung out of the church. It was not long before Constantius was obliged to risk the scandal of seizing and carrying off the bishop of Rome.

[Sidenote: Third exile of Athanasius (356).]

Athanasius was still at Alexandria. When the notaries tried to frighten him away, he refused to take their word against the repeated written promises of protection he had received from Constantius himself. Duty as well as policy forbade him to believe that the most pious Emperor could be guilty of any such treachery. So when Syrianus, the general in Egypt, brought up his troops, it was agreed to refer the whole question to Constantius. Syrianus broke the agreement. On a night of vigil (Feb. 8, 356) he surrounded the church of Theonas with a force of more than five thousand men. The whole congregation was caught as in a net. The doors were broken open, and the troops pressed up the church. Athanasius fainted in the tumult; yet before they reached the bishop's throne its occupant had somehow been safely conveyed away.

[Sidenote: George of Cappadocia.]

If the soldiers connived at the escape of Athanasius, they were all the less disposed to spare his flock. The outrages of Philagrius and Gregory were repeated by Syrianus and his successor, Sebastian the Manichee; and the evil work went on apace after the arrival of the new bishop in Lent 357. George of Cappadocia is said to have been before this a pork-contractor for the army, and is certainly no credit to Arianism. Though Athanasius does injustice to his learning, there can be no doubt that he was a thoroughly bad bishop. Indiscriminate oppression of Nicenes and heathens provoked resistance from the fierce populace of Alexandria. George escaped with difficulty from one riot in August 358, and was fairly driven from the city by another in October.

[Sidenote: Athanasius in exile (356-362).]

Meanwhile Athanasius had disappeared from the eyes of men. A full year after the raid of Syrianus, he was still unconvinced of the Emperor's treachery. Outrage after outrage might turn out to be the work of underlings. Constantine himself had not despised his cry for justice, and if he could but stand before the son of Constantine, his presence might even yet confound the gang of eunuchs. Even the weakness of Athanasius is full of nobleness. Not till the work of outrage had gone on for many months was he convinced. But then he threw off all restraint. Even George the pork-contractor is not assailed with such a storm of merciless invective as his holiness Constantius Augustus. George might sin 'like the beasts who know no better,' but no wickedness of common mortals could attain to that of the new Belshazzar, of the Lord's anointed 'self-abandoned to eternal fire.'

[Sidenote: Political meaning of his exile.]

The exile governed Egypt from his hiding in the desert. Alexandria was searched in vain; in vain the malice of Constantius pursued him to the court of Ethiopia. Letter after letter issued from his inaccessible retreat to keep alive the indignation of the faithful, and invisible hands conveyed them to the farthest corners of the land. Constantius had his revenge, but it shook the Empire to its base. It was the first time since the fall of Israel that a nation had defied the Empire in the name of God. It was a national rising, none the less real for not breaking out in formal war. This time Greeks and Copts were united in defence of the Nicene faith, so that the contest was at an end when the Empire gave up Arianism. But the next breach was never healed. Monophysite Egypt was a dead limb of the Empire, and the Roman power beyond Mount Taurus fell before the Saracens because the provincials would not lift a hand to fight for the heretics of Chalcedon.

[Sidenote: The Sirmian manifesto (357).]

The victory seemed won when the last great enemy was driven into the desert, and the intriguers hasted to the spoil. They forgot that the West was only overawed for the moment, that Egypt was devoted to its patriarch, that there was a strong opposition in the East, and that the conservatives, who had won the battle for them, were not likely to take up Arianism at the bidding of their unworthy leaders. Amongst the few prominent Eusebians of the West were two disciples of Arius who held the neighbouring bishoprics of Mursa and Singidunum, the modern Belgrade. Valens and Ursacius were young men in 335, but old enough to take a part in the infamous Egyptian commission of the council of Tyre. Since that time they had been well to the front in the Eusebian plots. In 347, however, they had found it prudent to make their peace with Julius of Rome by confessing the falsehood of their charges against Athanasius. Of late they had been active on the winning side, and enjoyed much influence with Constantius. Thinking it now safe to declare more openly for Arianism, they called a few bishops to Sirmium in the summer of 357, and issued a manifesto of their belief for the time being, to the following general effect. 'We acknowledge one God the Father, also His only Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. But two Gods must not be preached. The Father is without beginning, invisible, and in every respect greater than the Son, who is subject to Him together with the creatures. The Son is born of the Father, God of God, by an inscrutable generation, and took flesh or body, that is, man, through which he suffered. The words essence, of the same essence, of like essence, ought not to be used, because they are not found in Scripture, and because the divine generation is beyond our understanding.' Here is something to notice besides the repeated hints that the Son is no better than a creature. It was a new policy to make the mystery in the manner of the divine generation an excuse for ignoring the fact. In this case the plea of ignorance is simply impertinent.

[Sidenote: Its results in general.]

The Sirmian manifesto is the turning-point of the whole contest. Arianism had been so utterly crushed at Nicaea that it had never again till now appeared in a public document. Henceforth the conservatives were obliged in self-defence to look for a Nicene alliance against the Anomoeans. Suspicions and misunderstandings, and at last mere force, delayed its consolidation till the reign of Theodosius, but the Eusebian coalition fell to pieces the moment Arianism ventured to have a policy of its own.

[Sidenote: (1.) In the West.]

Ursacius and Valens had blown a trumpet which was heard from one end of the Empire to the other. Its avowal of Arianism caused a stir even in the West. Unlike the creeds of Antioch, it was a Western document, drawn up in Latin by Western bishops. The spirit of the West was fairly roused, now that the battle was clearly for the faith. The bishops of Rome, Cordova, Trier, Poitiers, Toulouse, Calaris, Milan, and Vercellae were in exile, but Gaul was now partly shielded from persecution by the varying fortunes of Julian's Alemannic war. Thus everything increased the ferment. Phoebadius of Agen took the lead, and a Gaulish synod at once condemned the 'blasphemy.'

[Sidenote: (2.) In the East.]

If the Sirmian manifesto disturbed the West, it spread dismay through the ranks of the Eastern conservatives. Plain men were weary of the strife, and only the fishers in troubled waters wanted more of it. Now that Marcellus and Photinus had been expelled, the Easterns looked for rest. But the Sirmian manifesto opened an abyss at their feet. The fruits of their hard-won victories over Sabellianism were falling to the Anomoeans. They must even defend themselves, for Ursacius and Valens had the Emperor's ear. As if to bring the danger nearer home to them, Eudoxius the new bishop of Antioch, and Acacius of Caesarea convened a Syrian synod, and sent a letter of thanks to the authors of the manifesto.

[Sidenote: Synod of Ancyra (Lent, 358).]

Next spring came the conservative reply from a knot of twelve bishops who had met to consecrate a new church for Basil of Ancyra. But its weight was far beyond its numbers. Basil's name stood high for learning, and he more than any man could sway the vacillating Emperor. Eustathius of Sebastia was another man of mark. His ascetic eccentricities, long ago condemned by the council of Gangra, were by this time forgotten or considered harmless. Above all, the synod represented most of the Eastern bishops. Pontus indeed was devoted to conservatism, and the decided Arianizers were hardly more than a busy clique even in Asia and Syria. Its decisions show the awkwardness to be expected from men who have had to make a sudden change of front, and exhibit well the transition from Eusebian to Semiarian conservatism. They seem to start from the declaration of the Lucianic creed, that the Lord's sonship is not an idle name. Now if we reject materialising views of the Divine Sonship, its primary meaning will be found to lie in similarity of essence. On this ground the Sirmian manifesto is condemned. Then follow eighteen anathemas, alternately aimed at Aetius and Marcellus. The last of these condemns the Nicene of one essence—clearly as Sabellian, though no reason is given.

[Sidenote: Victory of the Semiarians.]

The synod broke up. Basil and Eustathius went to lay its decisions before the court at Sirmium. To conciliate the Nicenes, they left out the last six anathemas of Ancyra. They were just in time to prevent Constantius from declaring for Eudoxius and the Anomoeans. Peace was made before long on Semiarian terms. A collection was made of the decisions against Photinus and Paul of Samosata, together with the Lucianic creed, and signed by Liberius of Rome, by Ursacius and Valens, and by all the Easterns present. Liberius had not borne exile well. He had already signed some still more compromising document, and is denounced for it as an apostate by Hilary and others. However, he was now allowed to return to his see.

[Sidenote: The Semiarian failure.]

The Semiarians had won a complete victory. Their next step was to throw it away. The Anomoean leaders were sent into exile. After all, these Easterns only wanted to replace one tyranny by another. The exiles were soon recalled, and the strife began again with more bitterness than ever.

[Sidenote: Rise of the Homoeans.]

Here was an opening for a new party. Semiarians, Nicenes, and Anomoeans were equally unable to settle this interminable controversy. The Anomoeans indeed almost deserved success for their boldness and activity, but pure Arianism was hopelessly discredited throughout the Empire. The Nicenes had Egypt and the West, but they could not at present overcome the court and Asia. The Semiarians might have mediated, but men who began with persecutions and wholesale exiles were not likely to end with peace. In this deadlock better men than Ursacius and Valens might have been tempted to try some scheme of compromise. But existing parties left no room for anything but vague and spacious charity. If we may say neither of one essence nor of like essence, nor yet unlike, the only course open is to say like, and forbid nearer definition. This was the plan of the new Homoean party formed by Acacius in the East, Ursacius and Valens in the West.

[Sidenote: New relations of parties.]

Parties began to group themselves afresh. The Anomoeans leaned to the side of Acacius. They had no favour to expect from Nicenes or Semiarians, but to the Homoeans they could look for connivance at least. The Semiarians were therefore obliged to draw still closer to the Nicenes. Here came in Hilary of Poitiers. If he had seen in exile the worldliness of too many of the Asiatic bishops, he had also found among them men of a better sort who were in earnest against Arianism, and not so far from the Nicene faith as was supposed. To soften the mutual suspicions of East and West, he addressed his De Synodis to his Gaulish friends about the end of 358. In it he reviews the Eusebian creeds to show that they are not indefensible. He also compares the rival phrases of one essence and of like essence, to shew that either of them may be rightly or wrongly used. The two, however, are properly identical, for there is no likeness but that of unity, and no use in the idea of likeness but to exclude Sabellian confusion. Only the Nicene phrase guards against evasion, and the other does not.

[Sidenote: Summons for a council.]

Now that the Semiarians were forced to treat with their late victims on equal terms, they agreed to hold a general council. Both parties might hope for success. If the Homoean influence was increasing at court, the Semiarians were strong in the East, and could count on some help from the Western Nicenes. But the court was resolved to secure a decision to its own mind. As a council of the whole Empire might have been too independent, it was divided. The Westerns were to meet at Ariminum in Italy, the Easterns at Seleucia in Isauria; and in case of disagreement, ten deputies from each side were to hold a conference before the Emperor. A new creed was also to be drawn up before their meeting and laid before them for acceptance.

[Sidenote: The 'Dated Creed' (May 22, 359).]

The 'Dated Creed' was drawn up at Sirmium on Pentecost Eve 359, by a small meeting of Homoean and Semiarian leaders. Its prevailing character is conservative, as we see from its repeated appeals to Scripture, its solemn tone of reverence for the person of the Lord, its rejection of the word essence for the old conservative reason that it is not found in Scripture, and above all, from its elaborate statement of the eternity and mysterious nature of the divine generation. The chief clause however is, 'But we say that the Son is like the Father in all things, as the Scriptures say and teach.' Though the phrase here is Homoean, the doctrine seems at first sight Semiarian, not to say Nicene. In point of fact, the clause is quite ambiguous. First, if the comma is put before in all things, the next words will merely forbid any extension of the likeness beyond what Scripture allows; and the Anomoeans were quite entitled to sign it with the explanation that for their part they found very little likeness taught in Scripture. Again, likeness in all things cannot extend to essence, for all likeness which is not identity implies difference, if only the comparison is pushed far enough. So the Anomoeans argued, and Athanasius accepts their reasoning. The Semiarians had ruined their position by attempting to compromise a fundamental contradiction. The whole contest was lowered to a court intrigue. There is grandeur in the flight of Athanasius, dignity in the exile of Eunomius; but the conservatives fell ignobly and unregretted, victims of their own violence and unprincipled intrigue.

[Sidenote: Western Council at Ariminum.]

After signing the creed, Ursacius and Valens went on to Ariminum, with the Emperor's orders to the council to take doctrinal questions first, and not to meddle with Eastern affairs. They found the Westerns waiting for them, to the number of more than two hundred. The bishops were in no courtly temper, and the intimidation was not likely to be an easy task. They had even refused the usual imperial help for the expenses of the journey. Three British bishops only accepted it on the ground of poverty. The new creed was very ill received; and when the Homoean leaders refused to anathematize Arianism, they were deposed, 'not only for their present conspiracy to introduce heresy, but also for the confusion they had caused in all the churches by their repeated changes of faith.' The last clause was meant for Ursacius and Valens. The Nicene creed was next confirmed, and a statement added in defence of the word essence. This done, envoys were sent to report at court and ask the Emperor to dismiss them to their dioceses, from which they could ill be spared. Constantius was busy with his preparations for the Persian war, and refused to see them. They were sent to wait his leisure, first at Hadrianople, then at the neighbouring town of Nice (chosen to cause confusion with Nicaea), where Ursacius and Valens induced them to sign a revision of the dated creed. The few changes made in it need not detain us.

[Sidenote: Eastern Council at Seleucia.]

Meanwhile the Easterns met at Seleucia near the Cilician coast. It was a fairly central spot, and easy of access from Egypt and Syria by sea, but otherwise most unsuitable. It was a mere fortress, lying in a rugged country, where the spurs of Mount Taurus reach the sea. Around it were the ever-restless marauders of Isauria. They had attacked the place that very spring, and it was still the headquarters of the army sent against them. The choice of such a place is as significant as if a Pan-Anglican synod were called to meet at the central and convenient port of Souakin. Naturally the council was a small one. Of the 150 bishops present, about 110 were Semiarians. The Acacians and Anomoeans were only forty, but they had a clear plan and the court in their favour. As the Semiarian leaders had put themselves in a false position by signing the dated creed, the conservative defence was taken up by men of the second rank, like Silvanus of Tarsus and the old soldier Eleusius of Cyzicus. With them, however, came Hilary of Poitiers, who, though still an exile, had been summoned with the rest. The Semiarians welcomed him, and received him to full communion.

[Sidenote: Its proceedings.]

Next morning the first sitting was held. The Homoeans began by proposing to abolish the Nicene creed in favour of one to be drawn up in scriptural language. Some of them argued in defiance of their own Sirmian creed, that 'generation is unworthy of God. The Lord is creature, not Son, and his generation is nothing but creation.' The Semiarians, however, had no objection to the Nicene creed beyond the obscurity of the word of one essence. The still more important of the essence of the Father seems to have passed without remark. Towards evening Silvanus of Tarsus proposed to confirm the Lucianic creed, which was done next morning by the Semiarians only. On the third day the Count Leonas, who represented the Emperor, read a document given him by Acacius, which turned out to be the dated creed revised afresh and with a new preface. In this the Homoeans say that they are far from despising the Lucianic creed, though it was composed with reference to other controversies. The words of one essence and of like essence are next rejected because they are not found in Scripture, and the new Anomoean unlike is anathematized—'but we clearly confess the likeness of the Son to the Father, according to the apostle's words, Who is the image of the invisible God.' There was a hot dispute on the fourth day, when Acacius explained the likeness as one of will only, not extending to essence, and refused to be bound by his own defence of the Lucianic creed against Marcellus. Semiarian horror was not diminished when an extract was read from an obscene sermon preached by Eudoxius at Antioch. At last Eleusius broke in upon Acacius—'Any hole-and-corner doings of yours at Sirmium are no concern of ours. Your creed is not the Lucianic, and that is quite enough to condemn it.' This was decisive. Next morning the Semiarians had the church to themselves, for the Homoeans, and even Leonas, refused to come. 'They might go and chatter in the church if they pleased.' So they deposed Acacius, Eudoxius, George of Alexandria, and six others.

[Sidenote: Athanasius de Synodis.]

The exiled patriarch of Alexandria was watching from his refuge in the desert, and this was the time he chose for an overture of friendship to his old conservative enemies. If he was slow to see his opportunity, at least he used it nobly. The Eastern church has no more honoured name than that of Athanasius, yet even Athanasius rises above himself in his De Synodis. He had been a champion of controversy since his youth, and spent his manhood in the forefront of its hottest battle. The care of many churches rested on him, the pertinacity of many enemies wore out his life. Twice he had been driven to the ends of the earth, and twice come back in triumph; and now, far on in life, he saw his work again destroyed, himself once more a fugitive. We do not look for calm impartiality in a Demosthenes, and cannot wonder if the bitterness of his long exile grows on even Athanasius. Yet no sooner is he cheered with the news of hope, than the jealousies which had grown for forty years are hushed in a moment, as though the Lord himself had spoken peace to the tumult of the grey old exile's troubled soul. To the impenitent Arians he is as severe as ever, but for old enemies returning to a better mind he has nothing but brotherly consideration and respectful sympathy. Men like Basil of Ancyra, says he, are not to be set down as Arians or treated as enemies, but to be reasoned with as brethren who differ from us only about the use of a word which sums up their own teaching as well as ours. When they confess that the Lord is a true Son of God and not a creature, they grant all that we care to contend for. Their own of like essence without the addition of from the essence does not exclude the idea of a creature, but the two together are precisely equivalent to of one essence. Our brethren accept the two separately: we join them in a single word. Their of like essence is by itself misleading, for likeness is of properties and qualities, not of essence, which must be either the same or different. Thus the word rather suggests than excludes the limited idea of a sonship which means no more than a share of grace, whereas our of one essence quite excludes it. Sooner or later they will see their way to accept a term which is a necessary safeguard for the belief they hold in common with ourselves.

[Sidenote: End of the Council of Ariminum.]

There could be no doubt of the opinion of the churches when the councils had both so decidedly refused the dated creed; but the court was not yet at the end of its resources. The Western deputies were sent back to Ariminum, and the bishops, already reduced to great distress by their long detention, were plied with threats and cajolery till most of them yielded. When Phoebadius and a score of others remained firm, their resistance was overcome by as shameless a piece of villany as can be found in history. Valens came forward and declared that he was not one of the Arians, but heartily detested their blasphemies. The creed would do very well as it stood, and the Easterns had accepted it already; but if Phoebadius was not satisfied, he was welcome to propose additions. A stringent series of anathemas was therefore drawn up against Arius and all his misbelief. Valens himself contributed one against 'those who say that the Son of God is a creature like other creatures.' The court party accepted everything, and the council met for a final reading of the amended creed. Shout after shout of joy rang through the church when Valens protested that the heresies were none of his, and with his own lips pronounced the whole series of anathemas; and when Claudius of Picenum produced a few more rumours of heresy, 'which my lord and brother Valens has forgotten,' they were disavowed with equal readiness. The hearts of all men melted towards the old dissembler, and the bishops dispersed from Ariminum in the full belief that the council would take its place in history among the bulwarks of the faith.

[Sidenote: Conferences at Constantinople.]

The Western council was dissolved in seeming harmony, but a strong minority disputed the conclusions of the Easterns at Seleucia. Both parties, therefore, hurried to Constantinople. But there Acacius was in his element. He held a splendid position as the bishop of a venerated church, the disciple and successor of Eusebius, and himself a patron of learning and a writer of high repute. His fine gifts of subtle thought and ready energy, his commanding influence and skilful policy, marked him out for a glorious work in history, and nothing but his own falseness degraded him to be the greatest living master of backstairs intrigue. If Athanasius is the Demosthenes of the Nicene age, Acacius will be its AEschines. He had found his account in abandoning conservatism for pure Arianism, and was now preparing to complete his victory by a new treachery to the Anomoeans. He had anathematized unlike at Seleucia, and now sacrificed Aetius to the Emperor's dislike of him. After this it became possible to enforce the prohibition of the Nicene of like essence. Meanwhile the final report arrived from Ariminum. Valens at once gave an Arian meaning to the anathemas of Phoebadius. 'Not a creature like other creatures.' Then creature he is. 'Not from nothing.' Quite so: from the will of the Father. 'Eternal.' Of course, as regards the future. However, the Homoeans repeated the process of swearing that they were not Arians; the Emperor threatened; and at last the Seleucian deputies signed the decisions of Ariminum late on the last night of the year 359.

[Sidenote: Deposition of the Semiarians].

Acacius had won his victory, and had now to pass sentence on his rivals. Next month a council was held at Constantinople. As the Semiarians of Asia were prudent enough to absent themselves, the Homoeans were dominant. Its first step was to re-issue the creed of Nice with a number of verbal changes. The anathemas of Phoebadius having served their purpose, were of course omitted. Next Aetius was degraded and anathematized for his impious and heretical writings, and as 'the author of all the scandals, troubles, and divisions.' This was needed to satisfy Constantius; but as many as nine bishops were found to protest against it. They were given six months to reconsider the matter, and soon began to form communities of their own. Having cleared themselves from the charge of heresy by laying the foundation of a permanent schism, the Homoeans could proceed to the expulsion of the Semiarian leaders. As men who had signed the creed of Nice could not well be accused of heresy, they were deposed for various irregularities.

[Sidenote: The Homoean supremacy.]

The Homoean supremacy established at Constantinople was limited to the East. Violence was its only resource beyond the Alps; and violence was out of the question after the mutiny at Paris (Jan. 360) had made Julian master of Gaul. Now that he could act for himself, common sense as well as inclination forbade him to go on with the mischievous policy of Constantius. So there was no further question of Arian domination. Few bishops were committed to the losing side, and those few soon disappeared in the course of nature. Auxentius the Cappadocian, who held the see of Milan till 374, must have been one of the last survivors of the victors of Ariminum. In the East, however, the Homoean supremacy lasted nearly twenty years. No doubt it was an artificial power, resting partly on court intrigue, partly on the divisions of its enemies; yet there was a reason for its long duration. Eusebian conservatism was fairly worn out, but the Nicene doctrine had not yet replaced it. Men were tired of these philosophical word-battles, and ready to ask whether the difference between Nice and Nicaea was worth fighting about. The Homoean formula seemed reverent and safe, and its bitterest enemies could hardly call it false. When even the court preached peace and charity, the sermon was not likely to want an audience.

[Sidenote: The Homoean policy.]

The Homoeans were at first less hostile to the Nicene faith than the Eusebians had been. After sacrificing Aetius and exiling the Semiarians, they could hardly do without Nicene support. Thus their appointments were often made from the quieter men of Nicene leanings. If we have to set on the other side the enthronement of Eudoxius at Constantinople and the choice of Eunomius the Anomoean for the see of Cyzicus, we can only say that the Homoean party was composed of very discordant elements.

[Sidenote: Appointment of Meletius.]

The most important nomination ascribed to Acacius is that of Meletius at Antioch to replace Eudoxius. The new bishop was a man of distinguished eloquence and undoubted piety, and further suited for a dangerous elevation by his peaceful temper and winning manners. He was counted among the Homoeans, and they had placed him a year before in the room of Eustathius at Sebastia, so that his uncanonical translation to Antioch engaged him all the more to remain on friendly terms with them. Such a man—and of course Acacius was shrewd enough to see it—would have been a tower of strength to them. Unfortunately, for once Acacius was not all-powerful. Some evil-disposed person put Constantius on demanding from the new bishop a sermon on the crucial text 'The Lord created me.'[13] Acacius, who preached first, evaded the test, but Meletius, as a man of honour, could not refuse to declare himself. To the delight of the congregation, his doctrine proved decidedly Nicene. It was a test for his hearers as well as for himself. He carefully avoided technical terms, repudiated Marcellus, and repeatedly deprecated controversy on the ineffable mystery of the divine generation. In a word, he followed closely the lines of the Sirmian creed; and his treatment by the Homoeans is a decisive proof of their insincerity. The people applauded, but the courtiers were covered with shame. There was nothing for it but to exile Meletius at once and appoint a new bishop. This time they made sure of their man by choosing Euzoius, the old friend of Arius. But the mischief was already done. The old congregation of Leontius was broken up, and a new schism, more dangerous than the Eustathian, formed round Meletius. Many jealousies still divided him from the Nicenes, but his bold confession was the first effective blow at the Homoean supremacy.

[Footnote 13: Prov. Viii. 21. LXX. translation.]

[Sidenote: Affairs in 361.]

The idea of conciliating Nicene support was not entirely given up. Acacius remained on friendly terms with Meletius, and was still able to name Pelagius for the see of Laodicea. But Euzoius was an avowed Arian; Eudoxius differed little from him, and only the remaining scruples of Constantius delayed the victory of the Anomoeans.



CHAPTER VI.

THE REIGN OF JULIAN.

[Sidenote: Earlier life of Julian.]

Flavius Claudius Julianus was the son of Constantine's half-brother, Julius Constantius, by his second wife, Basilina, a lady of the great Anician family. He was born in 331, and lost his mother a few months later, while his father and other relations perished in the massacre which followed Constantine's death. Julian and his half-brother Gallus escaped the slaughter to be kept almost as prisoners of state, surrounded through their youth with spies and taught by hypocrites a repulsive Christianity. Julian, however, had a literary education from his mother's old teacher, the eunuch Mardonius; and this was his happiness till he was old enough to attend the rhetoricians at Nicomedia and elsewhere. Gallus was for a while Caesar in Syria (351-354), and after his execution, Julian's own life was only saved by the Empress Eusebia, who got permission for him to retire to the schools of Athens. In 355 he was made Caesar in Gaul, and with much labour freed the province from the Germans. Early in 360 the soldiers mutinied at Paris and proclaimed Julian Augustus. Negotiations followed, and it was not till the summer of 361 that Julian pushed down the Danube. By the time he halted at Naissus, he was master of three-quarters of the Empire. There seemed no escape from civil war now that the main army of Constantius was coming up from Syria. But one day two barbarian counts rode into Julian's camp with the news that Constantius was dead. A sudden fever had carried him off in Cilicia (Nov. 3, 361), and the Eastern army presented its allegiance to Julian Augustus.

[Sidenote: Julian's heathenism.]

Before we can understand Julian's influence on the Arian controversy, we shall have to take a wider view of the Emperor himself and of his policy towards the Christians generally. The life of Julian is one of the noblest wrecks in history. The years of painful self-repression and forced dissimulation which turned his bright youth to bitterness and filled his mind with angry prejudice, had only consolidated his self-reliant pride and firm determination to walk worthily before the gods. In four years his splendid energy and unaffected kindliness had won all hearts in Gaul; and Julian related nothing of his sense of duty to the Empire when he found himself master of the world at the age of thirty.

But here came in that fatal heathen prejudice, which put him in a false relation to all the living powers of his time, and led directly even to his military disaster in Assyria. Heathen pride came to him with Basilina's Roman blood, and the dream-world of his lonely youth was a world of heathen literature. Christianity was nothing to him but 'the slavery of a Persian prison.' Fine preachers of the kingdom of heaven were those fawning eunuchs and episcopal sycophants, with Constantius behind them, the murderer of all his family! Every force about him worked for heathenism. The teaching of Mardonius was practically heathen, and the rest were as heathen as utter worldliness could make them. He could see through men like George the pork-contractor or the shameless renegade Hecebolius. Full of thoughts like these, which corroded his mind the more for the danger of expressing them, Julian was easily won to heathenism by the fatherly welcome of the philosophers at Nicomedia (351). Like a voice of love from heaven came their teaching, and Julian gave himself heart and soul to the mysterious fascination of their lying theurgy. Henceforth King Sun was his guardian deity, and Greece his Holy Land, and the philosopher's mantle dearer to him than the diadem of empire. For ten more years of painful dissimulation Julian 'walked with the gods' in secret, before the young lion of heathenism could openly throw off the 'donkey's skin' of Christianity.

[Sidenote: Julian's reorganisation of heathenism.]

Once master of the world, Julian could see its needs without using the eyes of the Asiatic camarilla. First of all, Christian domination must be put down. Not that he wanted to raise a savage persecution. Cruelty had been well tried before, and it would be a poor success to stamp out the 'Galilean' imposture without putting something better in its place. As the Christians 'had filled the world with their tombs' (Julian's word for churches), so must it be filled with the knowledge of the living gods. Sacrifices were encouraged and a pagan hierarchy set up to oppose the Christian. Heathen schools were to confront the Christian, and heathen almshouses were to grow up round them. Above all, the priests were to cultivate temperance and hospitality, and to devote themselves to grave and pious studies. Julian himself was a model of heathen purity, and spared no pains to infect his wondering subjects with his own enthusiasm for the cause of the immortal gods. Not a temple missed its visit, not a high place near his line of march was left unclimbed. As for his sacrifices, they were by the hecatomb. The very abjects called him Slaughterer.

[Sidenote: His failure.]

Never was a completer failure. Crowds of course applauded Caesar, but only with the empty cheers they gave the jockeys or the preachers. Multitudes came to see an Emperors devotions, but they only quizzed his shaggy beard or tittered at the antiquated ceremonies. Sacrificial dinners kept the soldiers devout, and lavish bribery secured a good number of renegades—mostly waverers, who really had not much to change. Of the bishops, Pegasius of Ilium alone laid down his office for a priesthood; but he had always been a heathen at heart, and worshipped the gods even while he held his bishopric. The Christians upon the whole stood firm. Even the heathens were little moved. Julian's own teachers held cautiously aloof from his reforms; and if meaner men paused in their giddy round of pleasure, it was only to amuse themselves with the strange spectacle of imperial earnestness. Neither friends nor enemies seemed able to take him quite seriously.

[Sidenote: Julian's policy against Christianity.]

Passing over scattered cases of persecution encouraged or allowed by Julian, we may state generally that he aimed at degrading Christianity into a vulgar superstition, by breaking its connections with civilized government on one side, with liberal education on the other. One part of it was to deprive the 'Galileans' of state support and weed them out as far as might be from the public service, while still leaving them full freedom to quarrel amongst themselves; the other was to cut them off from literature by forbidding them to teach the classics. Homer and Hesiod were prophets of the gods, and must not be expounded by unbelievers. Matthew and Luke were good enough for barbarian ears like theirs. We need not pause to note the impolicy of an edict which Julian's own admirer Ammianus wishes 'buried in eternal silence.' Its effect on the Christians was very marked. Marius Victorinus, the favoured teacher of the Roman nobles, at once resigned his chair of rhetoric. The studies of his old age had brought him to confess his faith in Christ, and he would not now deny his Lord. Julian's own teacher Proaeresius gave up his chair at Athens, refusing the special exemption which was offered him. It was not all loss for the Christians to be reminded that the gospel is revelation, not philosophy—life and not discussion. But Greek literature was far too weak to bear the burden of a sinking world, and its guardians could not have devised a more fatal plan than this of setting it in direct antagonism to the living power of Christianity. In our regret for the feud between Hellenic culture and the mediaeval churches, we must not forget that it was Julian who drove in the wedge of separation.

[Sidenote: Julian's toleration.]

We can now sum up in a sentence. Every blow struck at Christianity by Julian fell first on the Arianizers whom Constantius had left in power, and the reaction he provoked against heathen learning directly threatened the philosophical postulates of Arianism within the church. In both ways he powerfully helped the Nicene cause. The Homoeans could not stand without court support, and the Anomoeans threw away their rhetoric on men who were beginning to see how little ground is really common to the gospel and philosophy. Yet he cared little for the party quarrels of the Christians. Instead of condescending to take a side, he told them contemptuously to keep the peace. His first step was to proclaim full toleration for all sorts and sects of men. It was only too easy to strike at the church by doing common justice to the sects. A few days later came an edict recalling the exiled bishops. Their property was restored, but they were not replaced in their churches. Others were commonly in possession, and it was no business of Julian's to turn them out. The Galileans might look after their own squabbles. This sounds fairly well, and suits his professions of toleration; but Julian had a malicious hope of still further embroiling the ecclesiastical confusion. If the Christians were only left to themselves, they might be trusted 'to quarrel like beasts.'