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THEODORE OF STUDIUM
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF THEODORE—FORMATIVE INFLUEXCES OF HIS EARLY LIFE
IF the time of Theodore’s
early days was one of great agitation in matters political and ecclesiastical,
he may be said to have grown to manhood in the very thick of the fray. For his
native city, Constantinople, was the great centre of all the movements and
contests of the time, and the family into which he was born was, on both sides,
intimately connected with the administration of the imperial government and
intensely susceptible to the religious influences around.
We have the advantage of
possessing two “Lives” of Theodore, one of which, at least, seems to have been
the work of a follower and disciple, and the still more valuable records given
by himself in his funeral discourses on his mother Theoctista and his uncle
Plato. True, the “Lives” do not satisfy our curiosity on some points, and have
the failings usually found in works written primarily for edification; while
the Orations labour under the disadvantages which encumber
all distinctly panegyrical discourses. Nor do the
various sources always agree as to details. Nevertheless, they give us a good
deal of material for forming, not only a fairly clear narrative, but also a
vivid picture of the persons and events most important to Theodore during a
great part of his life.
Theodore’s father was a
certain Photinus, who held a post in the imperial treasury—in Latin his
position is called “regionum vectigalium quaestor”—his mother, a lady of good birth, Theoctista,
daughter of Sergius and Euphemia, “distinguished as to family and no less
admirable in character”. Biographers, of an age when word-play was considered
elegant, liked to dwell on his “luminous” father and his “God-created” mother.
But in fact the luminary only shines for them by a reflected light, and hardly
anything is recorded of Photinus except his prudence, piety, and deference to
his wife. It is even uncertain at what approximate age he died. He seems to
have had three brothers, like-minded with himself in religious disposition.
With Theoctista the case is otherwise. Her son—who seems to have been the
eldest, at least of her boys—always cherished a sincere admiration and
affection for her. In a letter, written while she was suffering from a dangerous
illness, he extols her self-denying life, and expresses his grief that the
cares of his office, more binding than iron chains, prevent him from coming to
her. When she actually died—probably sometime later, as he seems to have been
actually present with her at the end—he pronounced to the monks under his care
a discourse of great interest, as giving the portrait of a pious and wealthy
lady in fashionable Byzantine society. Theoctista had lost her parents in the
great plague which ravaged Constantinople in 749, and which was regarded by the
orthodox as a judgment on iconoclasm. Her brother, Plato, was able to work his
way up by diligence and industry, becoming first a notary, then a clerk of the
imperial exchequer, fulfilling the functions of an office the honour—and probably the emolument— of which went to his
negligent guardian. Theoctista, meanwhile, was allowed to grow up without
education, till, with an energy equal to her brothers, she took the matter into
her own hands. This does not seem to have been till after her marriage, which
was probably an early one. Her ideas of matronly duty did not allow of her
giving the daylight hours to literary occupation, but she found time for her
studies late at night and early in the morning. Thus she taught herself
letters, and being, even in early youth, of a religious turn of mind, committed
the Psalter to memory. Meantime she adopted a severely ascetic life, wearing a
dress like a widow’s, eating little meat, fasting rigorously, especially in
Lent, while making-believe to take part in necessary banquets, and keeping her
eyes downcast when she attended improper spectacles. Her attention to her
children and to her household duties was assiduous. She seems to have cared
more for the comfort of her servants than for her own, since, besides their
ordinary allowance of bread, wine and bacon, she always saw that from time to
time, especially on feast days, they had some fresh meat, fish and other
delicacies. Being a careful housekeeper and a strict disciplinarian, and
naturally of a quick temper, it sometimes occurred that acts of theft or
negligence would provoke her to exercise the prerogative of mistress over
slave, and deal not only reprimands but sharp blows. On such occasions,
however, penitence speedily followed. Retiring to her room, she would slap her
own cheeks, to realize the pain she had given, and then would send for the
injured servant and make humble apology. Hospitality and liberality to the poor
and the sick were marked traits in her character, and her care for her own
children was constant and watchful. She kept her daughter secluded from worldly
follies, and instructed her in the Scriptures and in the care of the sick.
Every night, after her children had gone to bed, she visited them and signed them
with the cross, and in the morning, on arising from her scanty night’s rest,
she aroused them to join with her in early prayer.
These children seem to have
been four in number, Theodore, Joseph, Euthymius, and a daughter whose name is
not known. They must have been closely attached to one another, and receptive
of the same kind of impressions. At the age of seven Theodore was brought under
outside influences, those of his instructors in letters.
The names of Theodore’s
teachers are not preserved for us. We do not even know whether the teaching
that he received was private or shared by others. Grammarians and rhetoricians
had always stood high in Constantinople. Special immunities and privileges had
been granted to them by many successive emperors, and salaries were guaranteed
to them by the state, though there is no ground for supposing that they were
quite independent of the fees of their pupils. Besides teachers, books abounded
and were probably easy of access. Here, however, we
come upon a difficulty. We have already noticed a curious story, which hardly
claims our acceptance, of an Academy at Constantinople burned down by Leo III,
along with the professors who acted as librarians and refused to execute the
iconoclastic decrees. This academy is said to have been presided over by a
Doctor, who bore the title “Ecumenical” and was supported by twelve colleagues.
However this may have been, we know, on the testimony of Themistius, that
Constantine the Great founded a library. It was later increased by Julian, and
under Valens it was cared for by four Greeks and three Latin librarians. In the
time of Basiliscus and of Zeno, it was wholly or partially burned and refounded, and its later station was in the Octagon, near
to the part of the city called Chalche. Now if it was
just in that region that the first removal of images was begun, we should find
some reason for Leo’s consultation of the doctors and for his displeasure at
their unwillingness to remove the images, without resorting to the hypothesis
of a permanent Council of Learned Men or the strange act of imperial incendiarism.
Such speculations apart, however, we should like to be able to determine
whether from the time of Leo to that of Bardas, as
some historians say, there was really no first-rate public library in
Constantinople, since that would touch a question of importance for our present
purpose: how far Theodore, during the years of his education, was familiarized
with the chief works of classical antiquity. The silence of Theophanes would
lead us to suppose that the great library was there, even if diminished in
size. Books must have been easily procurable in Constantinople, or the ravages
of fires could not thus have been redressed. One man at least who was Theodore’s
younger contemporary, Photius, afterwards Patriarch of Constantinople, was a
scholar of encyclopedic learning, and yet the period of his education would, if
the great fire is admitted, have fallen within the time during which the
Library was in abeyance.
It might be thought that
such an important point as the acquaintance of Theodore with Greek literature
ought to be easily decided from his biographies or from his own works. But here
our biographer, in want of material, falls back on commonplace statements with moralizing
commentaries. He tells us how diligently and successfully Theodore prosecuted
his studies in Grammar, Dialectic (“which those skilled in it call philosophy”),
and Rhetoric, and dwells much on the good conduct and piety which marked his
student life. “Grammar” should, of course, include general literature, but it
was quite possible, then as now, for a student to acquire sufficient knowledge
to pass muster in a crowd without going beyond compendia and books of extracts.
The study of Dialectic was, of course, based on Aristotle, and it may be said
that a belief in the power of argument was a legacy of the Pagan Greeks to the
Eastern Church. Rhetoric was in the same way an instrument for religious
teaching which had to be acquired along the lines of secular instruction. The
fact that Theodore became proficient in these subjects would not by itself
prove that he received a broadly based Greek education.
Nor do his writings help us
to decide the question. He does not make first-hand quotations from the
classics, though this by no means proves that he was personally unacquainted
with them. We might imagine that if he had read Plato, he could hardly have
kept himself from quoting Platonic passages where they would evidently have
been capable of interpretation on his side and against the iconoclasts. But
after all, in quoting those of the Fathers most deeply imbued with Platonic
philosophy,—particularly Basil—he may have thought that to go beyond a
Christian Father to seek the origin of his principles in a heathen philosopher
would have weakened rather than confirmed any cause. Yet there can be no doubt
that in so far as Theodore and those of the same school were Platonists in
mind, they preferred to take their Platonism, or at least to exhibit it, at
second hand. Similarly, in our own days, many theologians acknowledge
principles which have been ultimately derived from Kant and Hegel, while they
may have as little actual familiarity with those philosophers as any of their
readers or audience.
The facts remain, of
course, that the Greek classics were to be read in the Byzantine libraries,
that Theodore had a deep respect for books and learning, and that he did
seriously devote himself to prolonged and arduous studies, both during his
early youth and in later years. At the same time, we know that the accumulation
of learning was not only a possible fact but one actually accomplished by some
of his contemporaries. Yet even with some of the undoubtedly learned, the
curious position of conscious intellectual indebtedness to a system and to
persons whose authority had been repudiated, had involved a want of that sense
of proportion which is essential to real literary culture.
Take for instance John of Damascus, an elder contemporary of Theodore,
who had been, as his biographer tells us, well instructed in all Greek
learning, and who wrote both an elaborate Dialectica and an account of One Hundred Sects or Heresies prevalent in his own or in
earlier days. He actually confounds, or seems to confound, Pythagoreans with Peripatetics, and the chief mark of the Platonists seems to
him to be the socialistic ideal of Plato’s “Republic”. If Theodore had ever
wished to convert heathens, or even to demonstrate the superiority of
Christianity to Paganism in any way, we should have known whether his knowledge
as to pagan philosophy was clear or confused. But neither pagan philosophy nor
ancient history was required to yield him arms for the dialectical contests of
his life.
Theodore’s zeal for knowledge, as he conceived it, and his familiarity
with the Scriptures and with the Greek Fathers, is evident all through his
writings. And no less clear is his appreciation of the need of clearness in
terminology, and careful observance of logical forms, on the part of those who
undertake to prove or disprove any controverted doctrine. In one of his
letters, addressed to a young monk who seems to have been writing about what he
did not understand he reproaches him bitterly for using technical terms—such as
relative, type, and the like—without having acquired the grammatical and
philosophical skill that would have enabled him to use them accurately.
In rhetoric or eloquence
Theodore certainly obtained a high place, all the more, perhaps, if, as his
biographer says, he despised the empty verbiage which encumbered the study.
His style can hardly be called simple, but when he was purposely aiming at a
practical end and could afford to throw his oratorical Rowers away, he could
speak very vigorously and much to the point. He must have studied poetry with
care, as far as the laws of versification are concerned. As to his readings in
the poets, we have no evidence. But he learned to write elegant verse in the
classical metres, and also to compose according to
the new and elaborate ecclesiastical system of hymn or ode writing, in which
accent was gradually beginning to supersede quantity.
What help he had at home in his studies, we are not
able to say. In one of his letters he mentions a commentary on St. John as of
(which may mean either belonging to or written by) his father according to the flesh. But it
hardly seems likely that Photinus, of whom we know so little, should have been
a theological writer, though it is quite probable that he was a lover of
books.
Theodore’s quiet years of
early study seem to have lasted till he was twenty-two years old. This fact
suggests the question whether, in his studies, any practical objects were set
before him,—whether he were preparing himself for any profession or calling. It
might be supposed that his disposition and tastes would have inclined him
towards the clerical profession,—but we can hardly find any clear traces of
such a profession at Constantinople just at this time. The leading
ecclesiastics seem in many cases to have been promoted from the ranks of the
laity—though this was, of course, against canonical rule—or else to have
entered the Church through the cloister. It seems most probable that before
Theodore definitely gave up his life in the world altogether for one of
monastic seclusion, he was regarded as likely to follow some such lines as
those of his father and uncle, and to rise gradually to a position of wealth
and standing in the Imperial Service. This consideration brings us to the
highly interesting question whether Theodore, and Plato before him, acquired in
the offices of the Government the neat and business-like handwriting for which
they both became famous. We must return to this subject later.
There was probably no actual need for Theodore to earn a livelihood, as
his family had landed possessions, especially in Asia Minor, and his father’s office
must have been a lucrative one. Of one fact we may be sure—that he mixed in the
upper society of Constantinople, and acquired that knowledge of men and
manners, with habits of courtesy and social tact, which mark his
correspondence, and entitle him all through life to the title of gentleman. Possibly to those who do not realize the excessive and scrupulous etiquette and
ceremony which distinguish Byzantine society, his urbanity may seem to have a tinge of servility. In any case, it is an important fact
that in early life he learned to know men and society, and that he was not an
alien to the aristocratic world in which he was obliged later to seek for
partisans. And there seems to be something quite genuine in Theodore’s
appreciation of piety and purity as he discerned it among the religiously
disposed of the members of the upper circles. To him the monastic life was
always the highest. Any man or woman who had adopted and forsaken it was to be
regarded as one who had put the hand to the plough and looked back. Yet the
example of his mother and probably that of other members of his family had
shown him that even in the world a good and pure life might be lived. He always
seems to have felt tenderness for children, and to have admired conjugal
affection and fidelity. He can never be accused of having such an exclusively
monastic standard of excellence as to discourage efforts towards virtuous
living under the ordinary conditions of society.
It may be remarked that the
high and honoured position of Photinus and
Theoctista, taken together with their recognized piety, would lead us to doubt
whether the persecutions of Constantine Caballinus touched those of the laity
who, while disapproving his antimonastic and
iconoclastic policy, did not incur suspicion by offending any of his strongest
prejudices or feelings. After all, Constantine had a daughter who was notable
for her piety and had a nun for her godmother. If, during his reign, the
family had shown any intentions of forsaking the world, the case might have
been otherwise.
An interesting point in
Theodore’s account of his mother is her freedom from the superstition of her
contemporaries,—the very trait which the iconoclasts were always holding up for
opprobrium in their opponents. She refused to allow in the case of her children
the curious ceremonies practised on new-born babes.
Possibly the view that such ceremonies were derived from the Devil may itself
be regarded as savouring of superstition. But the
prevalence of belief in magic and the resistance made to it in the name of
Christianity is a fact to be taken account of in the controversies of the
times. If almost everybody was credulous, the anti-iconoclasts had no monopoly.
The strenuous piety of
Theoctista and her resistance to the worldly ideas and practices of her neighbors
was encouraged by the reputation and influence of her brother Plato, although
during the days of persecution he was not able to show himself openly in
Constantinople. Plato had early conceived a desire to flee from the world, and
he executed it in somewhat dramatic fashion. He left Constantinople with one
servant, crossed the straits, and wandered away to a desolate region till he
came to a cavern into which he entered. He then gave his head to be shorn by
his attendant, put on a vile garment, and sent the man back with his ordinary
clothes to the city. The servant departed weeping, and Plato went on his way
till he came to the monastery of Symboli, in Bithynia, over which a holy man
Theoctistus presided as abbot. Plato was admitted to the abbot’s presence, and
replied satisfactorily to the questions put to him. Nevertheless Theoctistus
feared that a man of gentle birth and good social position would find such a
life as that which he contemplated too severe for his endurance. But Plato
would take no repulse. “Father”, he exclaimed, “I give up all to you, mind and
will and body; treat your servant as you will; he will obey you in everything”.
Thus Plato began his life as monk. As time went on, he never relaxed either in
active labours or in private discipline. In course of
time his reputation grew, and on the death of Theoctistus he succeeded to his
office.
These were the years of
persecution. But better times were at hand. In 775, Constantine Caballinus
died, and was succeeded by his son, Leo IV, commonly called, from his mother’s
race, the Khazar. Leo did not at once reverse nor did
he actually continue the ecclesiastical policy of his father. He does not seem
to have been a strong man, and he was in a very difficult position, as he had
several grown-up brothers of doubtful loyalty, a young son, whose succession he
wished to secure, a very ambitious wife, and probably a feeble physical
constitution which made a long tenure of power improbable. Irene, the Empress,
was an Athenian, a devoted venerator of images, and from inclination or policy
inclined to favor the monks. At first it seemed as if a compromise would be
made. Leo showed himself “a friend of the God-bearer and of the monks”,—not,
however, of the icons. On the death of the iconoclastic Patriarch, a man of
learning and good reputation was appointed to succeed him, Paul of Cyprus, who
had attained the ecclesiastical grade of Lector. Paul seems to have hoped for a
restoration of the old state of things, but Leo, urged perhaps by the fear of a
faction which had risen in insurrection under some of his brothers, began after
a time to use strong measures against the opponents of iconoclasm. What kind of
policy he would ultimately have adopted is uncertain, as he died in 780, after
a troubled reign of five years, leaving his throne to his son Constantine, aged
ten, and under the guardianship of his mother Irene.
The Empress had now a fair
field for carrying out her own ideas. Whatever her moral character may have
been, she was certainly a woman of capacity. She proved herself more than a
match for the recalcitrant uncles, and her respect for the monastic state was
rather oddly shown in her orders for the tonsure of the most illustrious
rebels. The patriarch Paul, penitent and miserable, desired to retire from an
office in which he had not acted up to his convictions. Happily, death saved
him from any such humiliation. His last request,—that the question of the icons
should be decided by a General Council—was accepted as an obligation by his
successor. This was Tarasius, a layman of distinction, whose political
experience was likely to stand the Empress in good stead. He did not in the
subsequent history prove himself a very strong champion of the monastic cause,
but his influence, when freely exercised, was in favor of the monks and of the
icons.
There was now no need for
Plato to absent himself from Constantinople. His vows had not been such as to
preclude him from exercising social influence, and when he returned to his old
surroundings, the spell of his strong character was first felt by his sister
and her children, and especially by Theodore. This influence brought about a
renunciation of all secular life on the part of the whole family. It was not a
difficult matter to accomplish, as they possessed estates in Bithynia, a
province where ascetics and ascetic communities seem to have flourished. In the
late troubles, the religious houses for women had become disorganized, but
Theoctista would be able to live “cellular fashion” with her little daughter,
while her husband and his three brothers, her son Theodore and his brothers,
Joseph and Euthymius, could probably be accommodated in suitable places of
retirement, possibly all of them under the direct supervision of Plato himself.
Theodore gives a pathetic
account of the parting of mother and sons. The wave of enthusiasm seems to have
carried away the whole family, yet at the last moment the youngest boy,
Euthymius, felt his heart fail, and clung around his mother’s neck, imploring
that he might remain with her. But her answer was inexorable: “If you do not go
willingly, my child, I with my own hand will drag you on board the ship”. This
seems an inhuman speech, but in point of fact there seems to have been quite
free consent to the breaking up of the family on the part of all its members,
and in the case of Theoctista, the ties of family affection were not snapped by
the adoption of a new life.
If Theodore himself felt
any weakness, he is not likely to have expressed it. It seems to have been a
good deal by his persuasion that the Anal step was taken, and he had found a
hero-model as well as a spiritual father in his uncle, with whose fortunes his
own were hereafter to be very closely linked.
If, from this critical
moment, we look back on Theodore’s early life and training, we see how fitly it
had prepared him for the part he was to play in life, as religious
controversialist, as monastic reformer, and as party leader. Family
surroundings had fostered his natural tendency to emphasize the religious side
of life and thought, and his reading had been in great part theological. Yet he
had learned to look at religious questions, not perhaps in what we should call
a philosophic aspect, but at least as a genuine Greek must look at all matters
which are to be discussed according to logical principles, and contemplated
under the forms of the old philosophies. The practices which he had observed in
his mother, the example of asceticism shown in his uncle, their utter disregard
of all worldly considerations where higher interests were at stake, had helped
to form in his mind a type of the devout and self-denying life which was to
serve as the model of many influential communities. And his intercourse with
men and women of various characters and modes of life had given him a certain
power of discerning character and of appealing to responsive feelings, which
was essential to his success as champion of a fluctuating cause. At the same
time, apart from any such evident advantages as a youth of his great capacity
might derive from friends, teachers, and society, there was nourished in him
one quality in which so many of his contemporaries were notably deficient;—a
single-heartedness in all his efforts, and an entire loyalty to duty, sustained
by a firm belief in his own vocation to serve the cause of righteousness and
truth, the cause oppressed by all the forces of an autocratic government and an
unsympathetic world.
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