XII.

THE SIN AND PENANCE OF THEODOSIUS.

AD  389-390.

In the early spring of the year 389 the two emperors removed from Milan, and entered in triumph the ancient capital of the Roman Empire. Short work was made with those relics of heathenism which the tolerance or weakness of preceding Christian emperors had allowed to remain. Symmachus pleaded for the altar of Victory; but as he had not long before written a panegyric on Maximus, his advocacy rather damaged his cause. Statues of gods were thrown down, the pagan temples and chapels, said to amount to 424 in number, were closed, the privileges of the pontifices, flamines, and all the idolatrous hierarchy abolished, and the offering of sacrifices forbidden; a special commission was given to certain officers of rank to search out and seize all instruments of idolatry, and to confiscate all heathen endowments for the use of the emperor, the army, or the church. An appeal for their restoration, supported by not a few Christians, was made to Valentinian; but he absolutely refused to listen to it. An edict which followed in the next year was even more stringent in its character. Any one offering sacrifice, or divining by entrails, was declared guilty of high treason, and liable to capital punishment; the minor offence of using other pagan observances was forbidden under pain of forfeiture of the building where the rite was performed, or of a heavy fine.

While Theodosius was thus busily employed in sweeping away all traces of religion other than that of the Christian Church, the bishops were turning their attention to the internal condition of the Church, and waging war against heresy and heterodoxy, as the emperor was extirpating idolatry.

Jovinian, an Italian monk, a native either of Milan or Rome, and at one time an inmate of a monastery maintained at Milan by Ambrose, had broached certain opinions, which, though we should entirely agree with some of them, and consider others permissible, were by no means in accordance with the general feeling of the majority of Christians of the time. Those who contradict, with whatever truth, the current opinions of their own day, are often betrayed into maintaining, and still more often accused of maintaining, some directly erroneous propositions. Wiclif, and Luther, and Ridley, and Wesley, said and wrote things that might better have been left unsaid and unwritten; and were charged with saying and writing and doing much more, which in their hearts they utterly rejected and abhorred. Jovinian was no exception to the rule. Himself unmarried, and of abstemious, if not ascetic, habits, he held that celibacy and fasting were not in themselves meritorious, and that the married life was as holy as the unmarried; that all sins, as such, were equal in the sight  of God; and that all future rewards, as due only to the merits of Christ, would be equal also. To these propositions he added, or was said to have added, an indiscreet expression about the Virgin Mary, and the doctrine that one could not sin after baptism. For this he was styled a Manichaean, a blasphemer, a wolf howling in the fold of Christ. One does not see anything wolfish or blasphemous even in his erroneous theories; and as to Manichaeism, his depreciation of asceticism was opposed to Manichaean theory, certainly; though, according to Augustine, the practice of the Manichaeans of the time was inconsistent with their principles, being extremely lax and immoral.

Siricius, who had, as has been already mentioned, succeeded Damasus as Bishop of Rome five years before, held a synod of Roman clergy, which declared Jovinian’s teaching heretical, and excommunicated him, with eight of his followers. The accused, who had up to this time been living at Rome, then removed to Milan, where their opinions had been first published. The Bishop of Rome immediately sent three of his presbyters with a letter addressed to the Church of Milan, announcing the Roman decision and sentence. The letter, it may be observed, contains no trace whatever of any assertion of Papal authority. The Milanese clergy soon met in synod, and repeated the condemnation pronounced at Rome. The epistle sent to Siricius in reply to his own, salutes him as a brother (not as Vicar of Christ or Head of the Universal Church), examines and answers some of Jovinian’s teachings, and announces the excommunication of their author   and his adherents by an unanimous vote of the Milanese synod. The (so-called) heresy, Augustine remarks, was soon repressed, and became extinct, never having gone beyond the perversion of a few priests.

MASSACRE AT THESSALONICA. 

The organization of the West was a longer task than Theodosius had calculated on. Instead of being able to return to Constantinople within a few months from the death of Maximus, it was more than three years before he thought it safe—and even then he was mistaken—to entrust the reins of government to a mere youth like Valentinian, however promising, upright, and energetic. His absence from his own dominions was far from being without its effect. Personal rule requires that the personal presence of the ruler should be continually felt; his absence can hardly be compensated even by the ablest of lieutenants. The protracted stay of Theodosius in Rome and Milan was indirectly the cause of a terrible tragedy.

The people of Thessalonica, an important and populous seaport and metropolis of the province of Illyria, already well known to us as the refuge of Valentinian and Justina, were on bad terms with the magistrates of their city; but their ill-temper had for a time vented itself in words rather than deeds. Botheric, a Goth, the commander of the garrison, had, in the early part of 390, imprisoned for a gross offence one of the most popular charioteers of the circus. The devotion of the Thessalonians to the chariot-race was as entire as that of the people of Rome or Constantinople; and the populace on the day of the games lamented the absence of their favorite, and clamored for his release. Botheric was inflexible. Enraged by his stern refusal, and already fancying themselves to have grounds for dissatisfaction with the ruling powers, they burst into open rebellion, seized him and several of his officers, murdered them brutally, and dragged their corpses about the streets.

Tidings of the riot were brought to Milan. The Spanish blood of Theodosius was roused at the news, and he began to threaten the direst vengeance against the guilty city. But Ambrose was at his side, and succeeded in calming his excitement for the time, and obtaining from him a promise that the affair should be calmly and judicially dealt with. Unhappily, however, the bishop was required to preside at a synod which sat to repeat formally the solemn protest which he had already made before Maximus against the cruelty of Ithacius, bishop of Sossuba, towards the Priscillianist heretics. During his absence other counselors came to the emperor’s side. They roused his fiery temper by sensational accounts of the Thessalonian outrage, and argued that lenity would be misplaced and dangerous; it might be construed into a confession of weakness, and instead of exciting admiration of his calmness and justice, would only tend to inspire the disloyal and excitable people of the East with the hope of further impunity for still more grievous offences. In an evil moment—for it was the work of a short time—he yielded to the promptings of his own choleric disposition and his evil advisers, and sent orders that the people (assembled in the circus) should be put to the sword.

The decree, unfairly obtained, was treacherously executed. Not a word of the coming punishment was breathed in the doomed city. A fresh exhibition of games was announced, and, in order to make the number of victims as large as possible, the whole people were invited to witness it in the name of the emperor. Absence, it was hinted, would be considered as an intentional mark of disrespect. Anxious to stand well in his good graces after what had happened to incense him, the Thessalonians crowded to the circus. Botheric’s troops were ready : always greedy of blood, they now thirsted for vengeance also. The signal was given, and no games began, but a promiscuous massacre. Before the sun had set, seven thousand at least—some said more than double the number—of all ages, sexes, stations, and nationalities were lying silent in death; mown down, says Theodoret, like ears of corn at harvest-time. A counter order eventually arrived from the emperor. It put an end to the slaughter, but could not resuscitate the victims.

The dreadful news was communicated to Ambrose in a letter from Anysius, the successor of his sainted friend Ascholius in the bishopric of Thessalonica. It is a curious specimen of the rhetorical and inflated epistolary style then in vogue. After giving Ambrose to understand that a terrible blow had been struck at their happiness and prosperity, the good bishop goes on to entreat his kind offices with the emperor in favour of the afflicted city: “for certain abandoned and accursed men, tools of the devil, have torn her locks and brought the baldness of reproach on her  head. She who once was beautiful and well-favored, with joyous eyes like Rachel, is now tender-eyed, like Leah, with affliction; she who was of good address, is now covered with shame; she who was free of speech in joy, is now silent in disgrace; she who once sheltered strangers, is now stripped bare by strangers. And if Rachel now weeps at seeing all her children slain, it is said to her, 'How is the faithful city Zion become an harlot!' But she cries aloud to you, father, from afar, like the woman of Canaan; she falls down to you, as the woman with the issue of blood to the Saviour, desiring to touch the hem of your dignity : and who can be her helper but your Holiness? Guide the sacred ears of our lords to pity; exhort the pious, supplicate the compassionate, who under the seal of Christ have silenced the Western thunder of tyranny, that they may have mercy on those whom they have saved from the barbarians, that they may rescue the vessel now sinking with all her crew. Let not the devil, who raised the tumult, say, 'I have prevailed!' for even God disregarded not a disobedient and gainsaying people”.

EXCOMMUNICATION OF THEODOSIUS.   

Ambrose was overwhelmed with horror at the tragical tale, and confounded at the way in which the emperor had been cajoled into violating his promise; his dismay was shared by the bishops who were with him on the business of the synod. Theodosius was absent from Milan at the time when the news came, but returned a few days after, and in due course of time proceeded to the church at which he usually worshipped. He was met at the door by the indignant prelate, who addressed him in a speech preserved by Theodoret, which cannot he better exhibited than in the rendering of our own Hooker:— “Emperor, it seemeth that how great the slaughter is which thyself hast made thou weighest not; nor, as I think, when wrath was settled did reason ever call to account what thou hadst committed. Notwithstanding, know thou shouldst what our nature is, how frail a thing and how fading; and that the first original from whence we have all sprung was the very dust whereunto we must slide again. Neither is it meet that being inveigled with the show of thy glistering robes thou shouldst forget the imbecility of that flesh which is covered therewith. Thy subjects, O emperor, are in nature thy colleagues; yea, even in service thou art also joined as a fellow with them. For there is one Lord and Emperor, the Maker of this whole assembly of all things. With what eyes, therefore, wilt thou look upon the habitation of that common Lord? With what feet wilt thou tread upon that sacred floor? How wilt thou stretch forth those hands from which the blood as yet of unrighteous slaughter does distil? The body of our Lord all-holy how wilt thou take into such hands? How wilt thou put His honorable Blood unto that mouth, the wrathful word whereof hath caused against all order of law the pouring out of so much blood? Depart, therefore, and go not about by after-deeds to add to thy former iniquity. Receive that bond wherewith from heaven the Lord of all doth give consent that thou shouldst be tied, a bond which is medicinable, and procureth health”.

The emperor retired, for he knew Ambrose to be inflexible. He either invited the bishop to meet him, or proposed to visit him himself; but the prelate declined, and addressed to him a letter, to the same effect as his speech. He expresses in it his great personal regard for him, and acknowledges his piety and zeal, but hints in guarded words at his own disappointment in finding that the emperor’s natural impetuosity had not been repressed by good counsel. Then he denounces the Thessalonian crime, and declares that penance, public penance, must be done for it, after the example of David. Till it should be done he could not celebrate the Eucharist in his presence. This determination, he declares solemnly, was forced on him in a dream, in which he saw the emperor come to church, and found himself unable to officiate at the holy table.

No reply was made to this letter, nor did either of the parties move for a long time. The bishop had spoken, and it was not for him to take the initiative, or proffer a pardon which was not sought for. He went on with his pastoral work and study, among other things, holding a long conversation with two eminent Persians, who had come to Italy on purpose to visit and confer with him. The imperial offender was perhaps unable to bring himself to a public confession of his fault, or to comply with the terms on which alone he could be admitted to the full privileges of a Christian. His pride revolted at what his conscience told him he deserved; and so, though that conscience was still active, he made no sign. In this way eight months passed, while he remained still at Milan

Christmas-time now drew near, and all were preparing for the glad celebration of the Saviour’s birth, but the excommunicated emperor sat sorrowful in his palace. Rufinus, the magister palatii—lord steward of the household we might call him—ventured to ask the cause of his grief. Theodosius replied with tears, “You are mocking me, Rufinus; you do not comprehend the nature of my trouble. I am lamenting my unhappy lot; the holy Church is open to slaves and beggars, but is shut to me; and heaven is closed to me, for I remember the words of our Lord which distinctly say, ‘Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven’.”

“Let me run”,' said Rufinus, “ and persuade the bishop to release you from your bonds”.

“You will not be able to do so”, replied the emperor; “I know the justice of his sentence, and am sure that he will not violate the Divine law out of respect for Imperial power”.

Rufinus, however, eventually succeeded in obtaining leave to make trial of the bishop. He seems to have treated the matter all through with considerable levity, and probably did not conceal his sentiments when he accosted him. But he received a very different answer from what he had expected. “You are as impudent as a dog, Rufinus”, said the prelate. “It was you who advised the horrible massacre, and yet you exhibit no shame; you neither blush nor tremble, though you have offered such violence to the image of God”. The lord steward, whose character Ambrose had not untruly, though rather brusquely, described, persevered in spite of this unfavorable reply, and remarked that the emperor was coming, and would be there presently.

“I warn you”, was the answer, “that if he does come, I shall prevent him from entering the sacred portal. If he then chooses to convert his imperial authority into tyranny, I shall gladly receive death at his hand”.

Rufinus took a thoroughly anti-ecclesiastical view of the affair; he would probably have been happy to do for his master what some eight centuries later our Henry II is said to have wished his courtiers to do for him to an unaccommodating prelate—“rid him of a proud priest”; and would certainly, if he had dared, have counseled its being done. He did not, however, go so far as this, but simply sent a message to Theodosius telling him of the result of his interview with the bishop, and begging him to remain in the palace. The message was delivered as the emperor was either passing through or transacting business in the Forum. Reluctant as he had felt to submit to the direction of Ambrose, he was still less inclined to be dictated to by his lord steward; and the attempt made to induce him to resist the authority of the spiritual ruler perhaps confirmed him in the intention of submitting to that authority, and hastened its execution.

“I will go”, he exclaimed, “and receive the chastisement I deserve”. Proceeding to the consecrated precincts, he refrained from entering the church, but went into a parlour where the bishop was sitting, and begged for absolution. After the behavior of Rufinus, it is not surprising that Ambrose looked upon the visit in the light of a menace, and taxed the emperor with tyranny, insolence towards God, and contempt of His laws. But he received an assurance that he was mistaken. “I am come in no spirit of rebellion against constituted laws, nor am I intending to force my way through the sacred gates. I am here to beg that you will grant me release, remembering the mercy of our common Lord, and not close against me that door which He opens to every penitent”.' The bishop evidently considered the eight months’ delay in making this request as a contumacious resistance to spiritual authority, and an obstinate refusal to exhibit or feel anything like true contrition; and it is far from improbable that men from the court had expressed themselves to him in a manner which by no means gave him a just idea of the drift of Theodosius's thoughts. Those who had advised the massacre and those who hated Ambrose would join in using their utmost endeavors to prevent the emperor from expressing sorrow for his hasty and cruel order, and in doing all they could to keep up an impassable breach between him and the bishop.

The answer to the emperor’s humble words was still a stern one. “What penitence have you been showing for your great fault? What remedy have you applied to the incurable wound you have inflicted?”

“It is your duty”, answered the penitent, “to prepare the remedies; mine to accept what is offered me”.

 “Since, then”, said Ambrose, “you allow your temper to act the part of judge, and permit anger instead of reason to pronounce sentence, you must make a law which shall render such hasty orders null and void. When a sentence of death or confiscation of property is pronounced, let thirty days elapse before it is put into execution. After this time has passed, and you have become cool, let your decree be shown to you. You will then be able to decide rationally whether it is just or not. If the latter, then the writing can be destroyed; if the former, it may be ratified. Where the judgment is right, a little delay will do no harm”.

 The emperor consented. The regulation suggested by Ambrose was not new to him; a similar rule had been laid down by Gratian, but had been either forgotten, or not adopted by himself. The necessary document was speedily prepared and signed, and the excommunication was removed. Laying aside every ornament that could mark his rank, Theodosius entered the church with a deep sigh of relief, and fell prostrate on the floor, smiting his breast, and crying, “My soul cleaveth unto the dust: O quicken Thou me according to Thy word”; and with every sign of the profoundest compunction besought and received absolution and readmission to the communion of the Church. To the day of his death he never ceased to deplore his error, and was so watchful over himself and so careful not to offend, that the more he was irritated the more ready he was to pardon; and offenders were said not to fear, but to wish, to see him angry. Ambrose testified his belief in the sincerity of his repentance by inscribing to him the book he had written in 384, entitled, “The Defence of the Prophet David”.