 |
PAINTING HALL |
||||
|
 |
THEODORE OF STUDIUM
CHAPTER I.-
CHAPTER II.-
CHAPTER III.-
CHAPTER IV.-
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI.-
CHAPTER VII.-
CHAPTER VIII.-
CHAPTER IX.-
CHAPTER X.-
CHAPTER XI.-
CHAPTER XII
THEODORE’S PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE. HIS DEATH
THE events narrated in the
last chapter bring us near to the close of Theodore’s varied and strenuous
life. But before we come to the final scenes, we may take a glance at a part of
that life which is not confined within any limited period—at his epistolary
intercourse of a more private nature than the letters already cited in
connection with doctrinal controversies and official action. Not that in his
case the public and private can always be kept quite distinct. Some of his most
important declarations as to matters of principle were made to his near
kinsfolk or intimate friends—to his uncle Plato, his brother Joseph, his
spiritual “sons” Naucratius, Ignatius, and the others. And in his most private
letters, his desires and his warnings often fall into the forms with which we
have become familiar in his definitely theological works, just because these
forms were a part of his perpetual mental environment. Thus the relation of
Image to Prototype is never far from his thought. Nevertheless, we can roughly
separate his dogmatic or authoritative from his friendly and personal letters,
and these in many cases tend to give us a different impression of the man from
that which we should derive from his professional utterances alone. There is
more elasticity and urbanity about them, more recognition of the necessary
conditions of civilized life, above all more “saving common sense”.
The reader is at first
struck by the vast number of letters that Theodore must have written, seeing
that the many hundreds which have come down to us cannot be regarded as constituting
the whole or even the greater part of his correspondence. A very large number
are in answer to letters sent to him, most often of inquiry as to his opinion
on difficult questions of discipline or of private conduct. A good many are addressed
to bodies of men and women taken collectively. Several are expressions of
thanks to men, or still oftener to women, for kindness shown during times of
adversity. There is, as one would expect, a considerable variety in style,
according to the object of the letter and its recipient in each case.
Unfortunately, the stilted ceremonialism of Byzantine life had intruded even
into private relations, so that one must not expect to find here the grace and
simplicity which have made the epistolary literature of the best periods such
an abundant and trustworthy source for contemporary social history. The third
person generally prevails, the writer being “my humility”, “my unworthiness”,
or something of the kind, and the person addressed “your magnificence”, “your
piety”, and the like. Still, the man’s real meaning generally succeeds in
breaking through the crust. Occasionally the feeling of the writer is decidedly
at variance with the respectful style of the epistle, as where an answer has to
be sent to some tiresome person who has been asking unreasonable questions. Far
more often, however, the tone of politeness and of kindliness is maintained
throughout.
Among the letters of the
more ordinary and complimentary kind are a large number written to persons of
high station to condole with them on the death of some near relative. There is
one to Stauracius the Spatharius, probably (though
not certainly) the prime minister and bad adviser of Irene, to comfort him on
the loss of an infant son, his eldest-born. To Leo, the Guardian of Orphans, he
writes to express sympathy on the death of a child, three years old, the third
child the father had lost. This letter is written in what seems a simple and
natural way, and would lead us to suppose that Theodore had a soft place in his
heart for children, and that he was not very emphatic on the doctrine of
original sin : “For you this is sad, exceedingly sad; but by no means so for
those that have been taken, since, unspotted and undefiled by sins, owing to
their youth, they have departed from things here to the blessed and painless
life, where in the bosom of Abraham they sing praises in chorus with holy
infants, and make melody with the children who follow Christ”. He urges him to
keep the mean, showing natural grief, but maintaining self-control, and he
hopes that his wife the Chartularia may bear him
another and less short-lived son. The tendency to optimism as to the future of
those who die young is shown more markedly in the case of a man who had died in
vigorous youth, not in innocent childhood. In writing to the Turmachissa of Greece (wife of the commander of turma?) to comfort her on the loss of a son killed in a
battle, he says : “He had put on Christ in baptism, embraced the orthodox
faith, and had not yet become filled with the pleasures of the world, so much
as to touch them with his finger-tips, owing to his youth. Wherefore we may
believe that where, in his human life, he may have erred and gone astray, he
will obtain forgiveness through his unexpected and unjust death”. In another
letter he condoles with a nobleman whose young son had, after receiving a good
education, died in chastity and orthodoxy. In his experience among his “spiritual
sons” of frequent lapses and belied hopes, he may well have felt that whom the
gods love die young. His letters of condolence often insist, in a commonsense
way, on the duty of the bereaved to temper their affliction by devoted
attention to those whom the deceased has left behind; at the same time he held
that spiritually the living can help the dead. The high value that he sets on
conjugal and domestic life would be striking if we were not familiar with his
dual standard of life, for those in the world and those out of it. The ordinary
life of human society, even Court life, afforded scope, in his eyes, for the
attainment of a high stage of Christian virtue, but those who had renounced the
world were bound to aim higher, seeing that they were free from many
temptations, and had received a divine call.
This view is strongly
expressed in two letters to devout laymen, and in one to a lady who wished to
leave the world but had not obtained her husband’s consent. To Marianus the Spatharius he
writes, after designating the chief vices to be shunned and virtues to be
sought: “These and such like things pertain to the true Christian. Do not
consider, my Lord, that what I have said only applies to the monk, and does not
pertain equally to the laity at large (even though these things are most
strictly enjoined on monks); with the exception of celibacy and poverty, in
respect of .which things those in the world are not condemned. But even with
regard to these, there are times for abstinence and rules for self-denial”. And
to Theodore the Hospitalarius: “The true Christian is
nothing else but a copy and impression of Christ, and ought to stand to Him as
the branches to the vine and the members to the head”. After speaking of
reciprocal duties of masters and slaves, husbands and wives, parents and
children, he continues: “Here we have slavery and marriage; in the world to
come both will cease, and all will be one, as are the angels”. To Albeneca, the wife of the Protospatharius:
“It is a great thing, Lady, that you desire, and one hard to accomplish; ...
since you cannot easily be severed, after God has joined you together”. She
should tell her husband of her wish, and set forth the superiority of the
monastic life. If he will consent, well and good. If not, she should remain
with him, not vexing him with complaints, but winning him by her devout life.
This lady seems to have had grown-up children, so that there was not any
question of deserting a young family, but her high position made retirement
difficult. Theodore told her that she must seek salvation in her married life,
and hope that the way would be smoothed for her to something higher.
A vigorous exhortation to
duty in lay and official life is to be found in a letter he wrote to a certain
Demetrius the Consul on his appointment to an important command involving
chances of war. But there is a touch of stern asceticism in his admonitions,
since, along with his injunctions to do justice, relieve the oppressed, and
refuse gifts, comes the prohibition of laughter: “For they that laugh now shall
mourn and weep hereafter”."
Both men and women were
accustomed to ask Theodore’s advice on questions of casuistry, as well as on
spiritual life and discipline. Thus he is called upon by one of his “sons” to
decide the old and knotty question whether it is ever justifiable to tell a
lie. His answer is in the negative, but with a proviso that reminds us of the
adage on “treason never successful”; if you tell a lie to save a brother or
sister from destruction, and add, sotto voce, words which may give a
true meaning, you have not lied. But this expedient is not to be used in order
merely to avoid inconvenience to oneself. The reasoning is hardly cogent, as in
arguing points of ethics Theodore has regard to authorities rather than to
principles, but the result seems to be consistent with common-sense. In another
letter he protests against the diversion to the use of men of a religious house
originally designed for women. In another s he condemns the intention of a
father who had dedicated his elder daughter to the religious life, but on
obtaining an eligible offer of marriage for her, was thinking of accepting it
and devoting a younger daughter in her place. It is plain that such lax
transference of vows would destroy altogether their binding character. It is
gratifying to find a letter protesting against the cruelty of boycotting the
family of a suicide and another addressed to an ecclesiastical dignitary,
against capital or any corporal punishment of heretics. Theodore’s arguments
would here seem to lead to a larger toleration than probably he would have
wished to accord. He quotes the striking passage from a letter of
pseudo-Dionysius in which the monk who is impatient for the destruction of the
wicked is reproved by Christ, ready to undergo all His sufferings again for the
sake of sinners. Theodore declares himself willing to lose his head rather than
consent to the physical chastisement of heretics.
Among the letters of
spiritual advice is one to a nun named Anna, on the subject of prayer. This
lady, to whom several letters are addressed, had ministered to Theodore’s wants
with motherly care. In answer to her inquiries, he bids her not to grieve that
physical infirmity prevents her from fasting and labour,
for a sufficient humility can make up for deficiency of abstinence. He bids
her contemplate the goodness of God to her till she is moved to compunction :
“whence comes illumination of the heart, delight in the spirit, a strong desire
after God. When this takes possession of the heart, all that is evil flees away”.
In making confession, she is to call to mind all her sins, but not to dwell on
them in a way that might be hurtful to the mind. The invocation to the Virgin,
angels, and saints, comes last of the acts of prayer. “These things seem to me
to comprehend what is of power in prayer. And though some may pray in certain
words, and others in others, and even the same person may not always use the
same words, yet the same power seems to me to be necessary for all”. There is
nothing mechanical here, nor is there any mention of icons, or other material
helps to devotion. In a letter to another lady who had asked how often she
ought to communicate, he left the decision to her own discretion. He allowed no
choice, however, as to the necessity of receiving the communion from an
orthodox priest only.
Another lady, the wife of a Candidatus, some high military official, was
suffering from religious depression, from “a certain fear and trembling in the
soul without any cause”. Theodore counsels her to regard this infirmity as
contemptible, and not able to work her real harm. She should strengthen herself
against it by falling back on her profession and hopes as a Christian,
remembering the words : “Thou shalt not be afraid of the arrow that flieth by day, nor of the terror that walketh by night”, and, “if God be for us, who can be against us”. She is to be of good
cheer, pray and read, and never give way to lassitude.
There are a good many
letters to heads, and collectively to members, of various religious
communities. Among them are several addressed to an abbess named Euphrosyne (not, of course, to be confused with the
Empress), for whom he seems to have felt something like paternal affection. Her
mother, Irene, was an Armenian by birth, whose husband had held a governorship,
first in Armenia, then in Greece. After his death, she had adopted the monastic
life, and became an eminent ruler of a monastery in Constantinople. Her
daughter Euphrosyne was associated with her, and one
of Theodore’s letters was written jointly to them as his sisters. He had not known them in their earlier life, but a strong
friendship had been formed between him and them, and when Irene died, she asked
Theodore to take her daughter under his especial care, a charge which he
carried out with great zeal.
The first letter that
Theodore wrote to Euphrosyne after the death of her
mother consisted mostly of a panegyric on the deceased, intended certainly for
others besides the recipient. Soon after, in answer to a request from herself,
he wrote again on the subject of her bereavement, but chiefly with regard to the
duties of abbess which had now devolved upon her. Among other pieces of advice,
he exhorts her not to trouble herself too much with what is done in this or
that other monastery. It is by our own law that we should test ourselves, not
by the practice of our neighbors. He advises her to find a coadjutrix to relieve her of some of her responsibilities. He has written unreservedly to
her and her mother, he says, as if they were really his mother and sister by
physical kinship. They have one Father, one household, and one inheritance, and
the love which binds them together has the sanction of Christ. In another
letter he bids her try to know all her nuns individually, with their several
tastes, capacities, and temptations, that she may be able to deal wisely with
each one. He seems to have found her inclined to regard the cares of office as
a hindrance to the attainment of spiritual excellence, since he has, in another
letter to insist that the care of the Sisters is a help, rather than a
hindrance, to her progress. He dwells in a way that modern taste might And
morbid, on the high vocation of nuns as “brides of Christ”, and our present
standard would not allow a high place to the virtue of tearfulness. But
high-strung emotion seems to him the only safeguard against the tendency to
become slack. Theodore seems to have derived real satisfaction from his
intercourse with Euphrosyne, since he was able to
congratulate her on the good order that prevailed in her monastery, which had
become an “eye of Byzantium”, with a high reputation for piety, hospitality,
and general harmony. One definite point of discipline is referred by her to him.
A nun has tired of the rule and wishes to leave. Theodore is quite clear in his
answer, for which he cites the authority of Basil. A nun may be allowed to
depart if it is to take the oversight of another community, or the Abbess may
allow, at times, a change likely to prove beneficial. But an impatient desire
to throw off the yoke is never to be gratified. The term which Theodore often
applies to Euphrosyne, precludes the idea of her
being a young woman. But in addressing her, he takes the tone of a father or an
elder brother. She is to be the living image (icon) of her Mother, whose name
suggested peace, and in whose place he stands to exhort and encourage her in
the ways of peace and holiness.
Another lady who received
encouragement from Theodore in the career on which she had entered was Casia, or Icasia, the poetess.
This lady, who became an eminent and prolific writer of religious and other
poetry, is also the heroine of a strangely romantic story. Some chroniclers
relate that the Empress Euphrosyne, seeking a bride
for the Emperor Theophilus (her step-son) called together a number of maidens
of good family, and bade the Emperor give a golden apple to the one he
preferred. Theophilus was attracted by the vivacious appearance of Casia, and to test her, made the somewhat uncouth
statement: “By woman came evil into the world”. “And by woman”, replied Casia, “came deliverance from evil”. But her readiness in
speech seemed to betoken a want of modesty, and the apple was given to another
maiden, Theodora. Casia had lost her opportunity. She
entered the monastic life, and attained a literary celebrity which she might
not have obtained in the enervating atmosphere of a Court. So runs the story,
but the letter from Theodore would seem to show that she had aspired to a
religious life from her early youth. In any case it is interesting to find
that she belonged to the circle of those opposed to the religious policy of the
Emperors, and that, as her writings might lead us to suppose, she felt the
powerful influence of Studium and its abbot. More than one letter is addressed
to a person of her name, but the identity is doubtful.
The letters on questions of
Christian doctrine are mostly concerned with the controversy which filled his
whole life as to images and prototypes, in relation to the dogma of the Two
Natures. There is one on a subject which belongs to the regions rather of
mysticism than of dogmatism, but which the dogmatic spirit of the age brought
within the area of authority : the hope of final restitution. Theodore had been
asked by his “son” Gregory to enlarge what he had said in some previous
communication suggested by certain statements of the Bishop of Chalcedon. He
follows Maximus and other Greek Fathers in acknowledging three kinds of future
restoration: of each individual, according to his merits; of the whole physical
creation, which is to be made incorruptible and immortal; and of the whole
moral creation, whence sin is to be made to disappear, as the soul of man
returns to the Infinite God. For sin has no real existence, since it is not a
creature of God, and in the fullness of time it will perish, and he who has
committed sin will be “saved as by fire”. This statement would seem to give a
far more optimistic view of the universe than is found in Theodore's works
generally, but he seems to ward off dangerous consequences by his anxiety to
assert that this is not the doctrine of the arch-heretic Origen, and to avoid
pressing the words even of the authorities he accepts to their natural
conclusions.
Some of Theodore’s last
efforts were devoted to the reclamation of a hermit named Theoctistus, who
seems to have taken up various heretical doctrines, but to have abandoned them
in consequence of Theodore’s persuasions. Both by letter and by personal
intercourse, Theodore was active to the last. The last months of his life were
spent among his followers and friends, who flocked to Acritas from all quarters. It might seem that where he was, there was Studium, though
the actual monastery was no longer his dwelling-place.
Theodore was now
sixty-seven years old, but must have seemed much older, as his health had been
broken by his anxieties and labours. More than once
before, the end had seemed near, and after the last illness had taken hold of
him, he had various rallies which enabled him to give his final injunctions to
his monks. When physically incapable of addressing them, he wrote an address to
be read to them. Until the very last, he allowed himself the minimum of
relaxation from monastic discipline. He drew up (if he had not done so earlier)
what is called his Testament. He begins this document with an elaborate
confession of faith and goes on to exhort his successor and the monks as to
their mutual obligations and common objects. The chief points of the rule are
recapitulated, especially as to poverty and seclusion. Finally he encourages
them with the hope of the final reward of constancy, asks for their prayers,
and promises to intercede for them after his departure. He had spoken much of
the affairs of the community to Naucratius then acting as steward, afterwards,
doubtless according to secret instructions left by Theodore, appointed his
successor as abbot. When Naucratius asked about those monks who were under punishment
or censure, he replied “God will be gracious to them all”. He was not free from
the terrors of the unseen, but he was full of thought for those he was leaving
He sent a respectful message to the Patriarch, and greetings to various
friends, and received each monk into his cell for a final benediction. He received
the Eucharist, and was “anointed according to custom” on Sunday, November 11,
826, and about noon, feeling his strength fail, he bade them light candles and
sing the hundred and nineteenth psalm, which seems to have been in use at
funerals. As the words were being chanted: “I will never forget thy
commandments, for with them hast thou quickened me”, he passed away.
He was borne from the
peninsula to the Island of Princeps in the midst of a storm and buried in the
presence of a great concourse of people, many of whom had brought costly gifts
of candles, wrappings, and spices. But even in death his bones were to have no
lasting rest. Eighteen years later, when the cause for which he had so greatly
suffered had become triumphant, his body was translated to Studium, to lie
with that of his uncle, Plato, and of his brother, Joseph of Thessalonica, both
of whom had fought with him and suffered with him, and might now seem, though
late, to triumph with him, as they rested together in the home which had long
been the centre of their labours and affections, but
never—till the last—their permanent abode.
An adequate impression of
Theodore’s mind and of his achievements cannot be obtained without further
study of his work, actual and posthumous, in various fields. But here we may
pause for a moment to consider his personal character as it has shown itself
to us in his labours, his exhortations, and his
intercourse with followers and friends. Perhaps the verdict of some readers
will be: “A noble character, if only it had not been spoiled by religious
controversy!”. But Theodore himself would have had no satisfaction in such
approbation, since he identified himself with the causes which he felt bound to
maintain. And it seems probable that had there been no iconoclastic controversy
raging in his time, he would still have been on the side of the opposition to
current policy or doctrine. He was one of the men whose intense feeling of
right and wrong has led them to attribute grave moral importance to matters
which to most people seem practically indifferent. Thus he became not only the
champion of great causes, but the leader of dissension where modern opinion
would see no occasion for a breach of the peace. All will acknowledge that the
question of the Emperor Constantine's divorce and remarriage was a moral one,
and that the monks who opposed it did so in the interests of domestic purity
against lawless despotism. But when we come to the schism caused by the
rehabilitation of the wretched Joseph, who was, after all, but a cat s paw of
Tarasius, the atmosphere seems to be charged with the venom of petty
personalities. Similarly the opposition to Nicephorus when he was first
appointed Patriarch seems hardly warrantable, even if based on legality, since
the irregularity was not unusual, and Nicephorus afterwards seemed to Theodore
a good man for the post. And in respect of the great conflict—that against
iconoclasm—even those who may consider, after studying his arguments, that he
had a good cause, may feel irritated at his obstinate rejection of every chance
of compromise. Theodore was essentially of a combative nature, and one to whom
every conflict was a duel between good and evil. Perhaps we may best express
his essential character by the word Puritan. He had the austerity of
manners, the contempt for worldly pleasures, the severity towards both himself
and others, the absolute indifference to any consideration at possible variance
with religious principles, which English people associate with the word Puritanism.
It may seem paradoxical to apply the word to a man who devoted his life to the
maintenance, in religious worship, of institutions which English Puritanism
branded as idolatrous. But after all, Theodore was not a devotee of sacred art.
He does not himself seem to have used the icons much as helps to devotion. He
scouts the idea of their value to the weaker brethren. He only upholds them
because certain doctrines to which he attached great value seemed to stand or
to fall with them. Far from fostering the impulses of free imagination in
religious symbolism, he discouraged the pictorial representation of the
virtues, or any unauthorized Rights of the religious fancy. In giving spiritual
advice on prayer, he thinks of the soul and mind of the person, not of any
surrounding objects.
Thus Theodore had both the
noble and the less noble characteristics of the Puritan. He was courageous in
meeting dangers and in reproving wickedness in high places. He was willing to
undergo great personal hardships and risks for any cause even indirectly connected
with the principal ones at stake. He was loyal to his friends, and had the
solicitude of a father in Christ for the souls of those committed to his care.
But he was a party man whom partial views had blinded to the better side of his
adversaries and the weaknesses of some of his partisans. He either could not or
would not see the pride, perfidy, and heartlessness of Irene. His rejoicings
over the murder of Leo V., even if they End a parallel in some utterances of
Athanasius, are none the less revolting. His political horizon was bounded by
practical limitations which prevented his one far-reaching idea—the unity of
Christendom—from ever being, through his efforts, brought nearer to realization.
But with the faults which
belong to his type of character, he had virtues peculiarly his own. He was from
early years a leader of men. He had a wonderful power of attracting men and
women and of inspiring them with his own enthusiasm. This power must have been
in great part due to keen sympathies and a clear memory of the character and
needs of each one of his friends. The advice which he gave to Euphrosyne, to maintain an intimate personal acquaintance
with the members of her community he followed himself on a wider Reid. And when
there was no call for the exhibition of any particular bias, he manifested a
high degree of practical good sense.
Furthermore he was a
scholar and a gentleman. We have seen that he had literary power, logical
acumen, respect for learning, intellectual taste in his recreations. He was at
home when writing or speaking to the most exalted persons in the state, and
could vie with any courtier in writing complimentary addresses. And beyond all
this, he was a man of strong personal affections. We have seen how his love for
his mother, brother, uncle, and other relatives was strengthened rather than
weakened by his religious zeal. Like most great men, he was capable of strong
friendship, and unlike some, he was, while intensely suspicious of ordinary
female attractions, strongly sensitive to the sympathy and approval of good
women.
I have called him a great
man, and in using this epithet I am in company with most students, of very
various schools, who have concerned themselves with his life and writings. Yet
in two respects, one mental and the other religious, he could not rise above
his age, and was doomed to a painful restraint. His mind knew nothing of
intellectual liberty, his religion was out of sympathy with nature and with
healthy human life. Admirably bold in withstanding the authority of the
Emperor, he bowed his head beneath the yoke of an authority which seemed to
suppress his thoughts if ever they rose towards a freedom or an originality
which might be suggestive of some condemned heresy. Intensely conscious of the
reality of the spiritual world, he despised as vanity all things pertaining to
that natural world which, in the eyes of the loftiest thinkers, derives from
the spiritual its whole significance and beauty. He saw and felt the contrast
between the real and the apparent, but, in his theory of the prototype and the
image, he fell just short of reaching the standpoint from which he might have
seen a divine harmony and glory shed on a world shrouded in confusion and
gloom. Thus he ever walked under the yoke and in the shade. But he walked in
confident hope of liberty and light in the world to come.
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER XII
THEODORE’S CORRESPONDENCE WITH CASIA
THE friendly relations of Theodore with the poetess Casia,
which seem to be indicated in the letter mentioned in the text, are much what
we might expect, considering the great respect in which Theodore was held by
many pious Byzantine ladies, and also the resemblance of their tastes and
styles in religious poetry. At the same time, the subject presents several difficulties.
Almost all that can be told about Casia is put
together in a most interesting article, by Dr. Krumbacher,
published in the Sitzungsberichte of
the Bavarian Academy for 1897, which contains copious selections from her
poems. It is rather surprising that the author, though in his Byzantinische Litteraturgeschichte he does full justice to the character and talents of Theodore, and to the
historical importance of his letters, seems to have passed over the letter to
her in the Cozza-Luzi Collection, No. 270, which, if
accepted as genuine, contributes some facts towards the further elucidation of
her life and character. Dr. Krumbacher places the
birth of Casia about the year 810, so that she would
be about sixteen at the time of Theodore’s death, and the letter would seem to
come very naturally from an old and revered friend to a clever and literary
young girl. The text is not throughout perfectly clear, but may be roughly
translated as follows:—
“You have again favored us,
most honoured Madam, with writings so able and so
learned as to fill us with admiration and with thankfulness to the Lord.
Especially as all this wisdom is found in a quite youthful maiden. I cannot say
that you have attained to the standard of the ancients, for we of the present
time, both men and women, fall far short of our predecessors in knowledge and
in skill. But among those of today, you shine pre-eminent. Your speech is
beautiful beyond all temporal beauty, and what is yet more excellent, your life
accords with your speech, and in neither is there any uncertainty of foot. If
indeed you desire in the present persecution to suffer for Christ, you are not
one who, after one chastisement, becomes impatient, and unable to support the
burning passion of a good confession (in which may you ever be preserved). For
you know assuredly that nothing is so fair or so joyful as to suffer for the
truth and to abound in sufferings. Gold and silver, fame and luxury, all that
seems to be desired of earthly goods, is in reality of no worth. It is but a
Rowing stream, a vision, a shadow. Your choice of the monastic life comes, you
say, from the persecution. This is not strange to me, though it may seem
strange. Why so? Each one judges of what is to come from what has gone before,
and conversely. If there is smoke, there has been fire; if there has been
confession of Christ, the desire for monastic perfection will shine forth. You
are happy in respect of both. But do not look for consecration from me,—who am
a sinner—but from that hand the imposition of which will sanctify you. I would
send many greetings to her who has brought you forth again into the light of
truth, the Mother of your day. I have received her presents and yours, and
consecrate them as a gift to the Lord by thanksgiving, praying for you both. Of
a truth I am burdensome to you, but you shall be relieved from your spiritual
burden by Him who taketh away the sin of the world”.
From this letter we should
gather (1) that the person addressed was a talented writer; (2) that she was
very young—these two points would make it highly probable that she was the
poetess Casia; (3) that she had a pious mother; (4)
that she or her family had suffered (not necessarily to any severe extent) for
the cause of the icons, and had ministered to Theodore in his distress; and (5)
that she had already decided to enter the monastic life. This last point—if the
lady addressed is Casia the hymn-writer— would
militate against the veracity of the story of Theophilus and the golden apple,
since the chroniclers who wrote that story certainly suppose that Casia was at that time (three or four years after the death
of Theodore) unbound and eligible for marriage.
The golden apple story is
regarded by Dr. Krumbacher as undoubtedly historical.
He considers that the other Byzantine apple story—of the means by which
Theodosius discovered the infidelity of Eudocia, is
too dissimilar to be a duplicate. Perhaps it may seem odd that a critical apple
should figure in the lives of the two most celebrated of women poets of
Constantinople, And there certainly seems to be something legendary in the complexion
of the tale. It is not narrated by the best of the meagre chroniclers (the Continuator of
Theophanes), and Symeon Magister is hazy about Euphrosyne, whom he represents as the own mother of
Theophilus. If, however, no more information were forthcoming, it might hold
its ground. The point to which I would here draw attention is that if Casia were a professed nun before the death of Theodore,
the historical value of the story would disappear.
Now, besides the letter
translated above, we have two purporting to be from Theodore to a lady called Casia the Candidatess. One of them was certainly addressed to a nun, though in this case the term the Candidatess is puzzling,—unless we consider
that she was the widow of a military functionary, the Candidatus.
This is not impossible, although Theodore has heard that she had followed a
pious life from early youth. She has been kind to his spiritual son, Dorotheus, but while commending her bounty, Theodore warns
her against enjoying male society. The apparent want of knowledge on his part
of the circumstances of her youth makes it improbable that she is the same lady
to whom the other letter was written.
There is yet another letter
to a Casia—again called Candidatess, with a slight
difference in spelling—in the Migne Collection of
Theodore’s letters. This letter is in a different tone, and is so personal as
to be very obscure. The lady seems to have accused him of listening to
calumnies against her, and he asserts his rectitude with some haughtiness. The
letter contains allusions to her sister and to a Strategus and his wife with whom they were apparently intimate. There is nothing to show
whether the letter is to a married or a single woman, but the general
impression that it leaves is that it was written to a lady in society.
Thus it appears that there
were—presuming the authenticity of all three letters, which does not seem to
have been questioned—two, if not three persons named Casia or Cassia among Theodore's correspondents, and that only one of these was
written to the poetess Casia; that this letter goes
some little way to discredit the story of the Golden Apple; and that the
acceptance of the second letter quoted as addressed to the poetess would
demolish that story altogether.
Perhaps the most natural
supposition would be that the famous Casia had a
relative—probably an aunt—of the same name and the same religious sympathies,
who was also a correspondent of Theodore. The question arises: was Casia or Cassia a name frequently used at that
time? Dr. Krumbacher, after enumerating the many
different ways in which the hymn-writer’s name was written, concludes that it
was the same as that of the daughter of Job, Keziah.
Two variants of quite distinct etymology would be Icasia, the female form of a
classical Greek name, Icassias, and Cassia, a Roman gentile name. If the
name of the poetess were of the third etymology, we should expect to find it
recurring among her kinsfolk. But to whatever conclusion Byzantine scholars may
come, we seem to have at least one interesting fact before us: that Theodore knew
and appreciated the budding powers of the most original and prolific of
Byzantine literary women, and that she desired, but was not permitted, to
receive from him authorization for adopting that monastic life to which she
aspired in girlhood but—perhaps—only entered when disappointed of a seat on the
imperial throne.
CHAPTER XIII
THEODORE'S PLACE IN CALLIGRAPHY AND HYMNOGRAPHY
|