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THEODORE OF STUDIUM
CHAPTER I.-
CHAPTER II.-
CHAPTER III.-
CHAPTER IV.-
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
IRENE—CHARLES—NICEPHORUS—THE DISPUTE ABOUT THE ELECTION TO THE
PATRIARCHATE.
THE years occupied by the
quiet, constructive work of Theodore and by the sole monarchy of Irene are
memorable in universal history, since by studying them we can attain some
comprehension, as to causes and immediate results, of the most portentous event
of the Middle Ages, the Coronation of Charles the Great as Emperor at Rome.
Strange to say, this event is one of which no hint could be gathered from
Theodore’s letters or other writings, while two other events, which would seem
to us of trivial import, loom large in his correspondence and his life,—the
slightly irregular election of a patriarch, and the rehabilitation of an
unfrocked priest. The former of these matters soon subsides into the
background, but the second becomes the cause of a schism, and calls forth
passionate appeals to distant authorities and efforts towards the formation of
a party and a policy. Yet if we look at these three events together, those
which seem so insignificant to us and of such deadly importance to Theodore,
have their place in the great stream of affairs. They indicate, and even in a
small measure help to determine, the course of circumstances by which Eastern
and Western Christendom were partly sundered, partly held together in tangled
and flexible cords. The questions as to rival authorities, civil and ecclesiastical,
which seemed settled, but were really opened up afresh at the foundation of the
Holy Roman Empire, were posed and answered by the Studite monks in their
opposition to Patriarch and to Emperor.
The story of the coronation
of Charles has been of late so often and so ably told that we need not dwell on
it at length, especially as we are only concerned with it as it affected the
Eastern Empire and Church. The main events, however, may be briefly
recapitulated.
Before matters came to a crisis, it had been
thought, by some Western scholars with imperial traditions, that the title
Augustus, with the worldwide Empire connoted thereby, would be more befitting
to the great champion of Christianity and order, who ruled over so many Western
lands, than it was to the comparatively feeble and unsuccessful Emperor at
Byzantium. True, the title was not absolutely essential to the establishment of
a great kingdom, or even to the union of many kingdoms under one sceptre. Alaric the Visigoth, Theodoric the Ostrogoth,
Clovis the Frank, had ruled over many tribes and over widely spread dominions,
and so far from aspiring to the imperial title, had been content to receive a
sanction for their power in some conferred title—such as consul or patrician—which
might seem slight in comparison to the natural name of rex.
We read, indeed, that Adolf the Visigoth had at one time aspired to the
imperial title, but preferring substance to shadow, had changed his ideal and
made it his motive not to destroy but to invigorate. Again, the most ambitious
of Clovis grandchildren, Theudibert, is said to have
dreamed of an expedition to Constantinople and an assumption of the imperial
dignity; but he came to an untimely end. At various times, while an emperor yet
resided in Italy, one or another pretender had been set up by the power of
barbarian swords. But no great Teutonic leader had ever adopted the imperial
style. On the abdication of Romulus Augustulus in
476, the insignia of his office had been restored to Constantinople. The great
king Theodoric had stamped on his coins the effigy of the Emperors at Constantinople.
The recovery of Italy and of Africa by Justinian had brought the reality more
into harmony with the theory, and the conquest of the Exarchate of Ravenna,
first by Lombards and then by Franks, had left intact the claims to universal
sovereignty vested in the heirs of Augustus. The political scheme was not a
convenient one. The greatest secular authority could only be recognized as such
by means of a prudent fiction. Yet that fiction might have lived longer but for
the cruel deed of Irene and her unbridled ambition, and if it had not come to
an end just how and when it did, the political ideas and to a large extent the
political events of the Middle Ages would have been different. As it was, the
loftiest of titles was bestowed by ecclesiastical hands on the de facto governor of the western
world, and both those who conferred and those who received the honour handed down their claims to many generations after
them.
We have spoken of the foundation of the Holy Roman Empire without
of course meaning to imply that anything was now supposed to be created by the
action of Leo and of Charles. But the fact that the Pope took the first step,
and that the new Emperor, whatever his wishes may have been, was never
acknowledged as either colleague or superior by the Eastern power, while his
own powers were interpreted as universal, made the event of Christmas Day 800
the beginning of a new epoch.
Leo III had become Pope in
December 795, and had at once written to Charles a letter promising obedience
and fidelity in terms that are at least as subservient as any that might have
been addressed by a Byzantine ecclesiastic to his Emperor. Leo was unpopular in
Rome, and in 799 became the victim of a conspiracy organized by Paschalis and Campanus, nephews of the late Pope Hadrian. He was seized
while conducting a religious procession, and cruelly mutilated. The accounts
are somewhat confusing. We can hardly accept the statement that his eyes were
pulled out twice, or that his tongue was amputated, and that he only recovered
power of speech by angelic intervention. He must have suffered considerably,
but not so much that his disfigurement would hinder any public functions in
future. After a brief imprisonment, he escaped to Spoleto. Thence, according to
some chroniclers, he wrote to Constantinople for help. But these accounts are
late and doubtful. If such an application was made, it received no attention.
Leo crossed the Alps and was kindly received by Charles at Paderborn. After
Pope and King had spent some months together, Leo was escorted back to Rome in
princely fashion, and ten commissioners appointed by Charles investigated the
matters which had led to the outbreak. Charles himself did not arrive till
December in the next year, 800. Leo purged himself by oath of the charges
brought against him. He was exculpated, and the chief conspirators received the
sentence of death, afterwards commuted for that of banishment. Then the
ecclesiastics of Rome and the followers of Charles consulted together on the
next step. Finally, on December 25, as Charles attended in state the service
held in St. Peter’s, the Pope placed a crown of gold on his head, and all
present, Romans and Franks, saluted him as Carolus Augustus magnus et pacificus Imperator.
Many writers of subsequent times have tried to discover the motives of
Leo and of Charles, but difficulties still remain. Leo desired, of course, as
solemn a sanction as possible for the great champion of the Church, and he saw
his opportunity in what he conveniently regarded as the abeyance, for the time,
of any legitimate imperial authority. One of the Chroniclers states—what
probably many people believed—that Charles had not heard of the blinding of
Constantine and the usurpation of Irene—which had occurred three years
before—until his arrival in Rome. The usurpation furnished an excuse. Had the
throne in Constantinople been held by an iconoclast, a similar excuse would
have been afforded on the ground of heresy. Everybody must have seen that
changing circumstances were being used to justify an irrevocable decision. The
Empire had been heretical and had become orthodox. The throne was held by a
woman and was shortly to be filed again by a man. But the people of Italy cared
not for the Greeks, and the Pope felt no brotherhood with the Eastern
Patriarch, no deference to the oriental ruler. It was to Charles, not to
Constantine, that Haroun al Rashid had lately sent
the banner of Jerusalem and the keys of the Holy Sepulchre.
He was the one hope and defence of the Church. By taking upon himself to
accomplish this momentous act of coronation, Leo may have seemed to be magnifying
to its utmost the authority vested in the successors of St. Peter, and to have
secured for the future the cooperation of the principal factors in the Church
and the world.
But what did it all mean to
Charles? Here we may quote the words of his best biographer, Eginhard : “Karl therefore went to Rome, and stayed there
the whole winter in order to reform and quiet the Church, which was in a most
disturbed state. It was at this time that he received the title of Emperor and
Augustus, to which at first he was so averse that he remarked that had he
foreseen the intention of the Pope, he would not have entered the church on
that day, great festival though it was. He bore very quietly the displeasure of
the Roman Emperors, who were exceedingly indignant at his assumption of the
imperial title, and overcame their sullenness by his great magnanimity, in
which, without doubt, he greatly excelled them, sending them frequent embassies,
and styling them his brothers in his letters to them”.
This second paragraph would
indeed have sounded strangely in a Byzantine ear. That a usurper should show
magnanimity in styling the legitimate rulers his brothers might seem a curious
inversion of relations. Yet this paragraph throws light on the former. If—as
seems quite possible—Charles did not wish then and there to be crowned Emperor,
the reason for his reluctance was twofold : he did not wish to bear the
semblance of receiving the diadem from the Papacy; and he did not wish to break
with Byzantium. He may possibly have foreseen in the former course the germ of
the long strife between mediaeval popes and emperors, and in the latter the
final separation of East and West.
The proof that Charles did
not wish to take up a hostile attitude towards Constantinople is shown in at
least three ways : (1) in his cheerful acceptance of Irene’s own account of the
disagreeable affair in which she had been implicated; (2) in his friendly
reception of the Sicilian embassies who represented the imperial authority; and
(3) in his negotiations with Irene, which, at least according to the principal
Greek account, would have led to a matrimonial alliance but for the catastrophe
which deprived her of power—and possibly of life. The same line of policy as
shown in his dealings with her successors will concern us later on.
I. In the Annales Laurissenses, we read under the year 798, that
when Charles had returned to Aix he received ambassadors sent from
Constantinople by the Empress Irene (whose name is barbarized into Herena), whose son Constantine had been seized and
blinded by his followers on account of the impropriety of his conduct. This is
undoubtedly the account which the ambassadors gave of what had happened. The
object of the ambassadors, Michael and Theophilus by name, was to obtain the
liberation of Sissinius, brother of the Patriarch
Tarasius, who had been taken prisoner in battle. The boon was granted, a sure
sign that Charles did not wish to pick a quarrel with Irene. He surely had
ample excuse, since the dethroned Emperor had been promised to him as
son-in-law. But, however soldiers and courtiers regarded the matter, it did not
seem to Charles that the imperial authority was in temporary abeyance.
II. The year before, according
to the chronicles, Charles had received a messenger from Nicetas,
Prefect of Sicily, bearing letters from the Emperor. These letters may have
been written by Constantine just before the great catastrophe, and it has been
conjectured that he was looking to Charles for help against his mother. But of
this we have no proof. Constantine was not one to conceive far-reaching plans,
nor had he much opportunity for independent negotiation. And besides this, the
blow seems to have come suddenly. Theoctistus was hospitably entertained and
dismissed, but we know nothing of any results to his commission. Other
negotiations with Sicily are of ambiguous import. In 799, there was an
ambassador from Sicily at the Frankish Court, and in 801 or 802, we find a
refugee from Sicily who is at the same time an emissary of peace. Theophanes,
the Greek chronicler, tells us that Charles, after his coronation, meditated an
invasion of Sicily, but changed his mind, and decided on an alliance with
Irene. Whether this was the case or not, Sicily, so often the battlefield of
the nations, was not on this occasion to witness the decisive conflict. It
remained as an appendage of the Empire till it fell under the yoke of the
Saracens.
III. The matrimonial scheme of
Charles and Leo forms a strange episode. The sceptical historian is inclined to doubt whether it was quite seriously undertaken. The
particulars of the embassy are derived not from the Franks, who are silent as
to the project of marriage, but from Theophanes, According to him, the
ambassadors (Jesse the Bishop and Helmgard a
nobleman, as we learn from the chronicles) were accredited agents of Pope and
Emperor, to unite East and West in the matrimonial union of Charles and Irene.
They arrived in Constantinople in 802.
Charles had lost his last
legal wife two years before. As we have already seen, he had not taken up a
position of moral censor with regard to Irene, and the proposal on his part, if
not quite according to modern decorum, need not prove that he was guilty of
hypocrisy. The action of the Pope—if the Pope had used the crimes of Irene to
justify the elevation of Charles and then sought to unite the two—would have
been more reprehensible. But we have not the material for a moral judgment.
If the object had been a
determination of mutual relations between the Empire of Irene and that of
Charles, we cannot tell what the proposed relations would have been. It was no
mere question of border territories, but of conflicting claims to universal
dominion, and of the possession of the city that must, however fallen in
material prosperity, still figure as the head and mistress of the world. The
fear of what might happen if Irene formed an alliance, which could hardly have
been one of equality, with the great monarch of the West, might well have
aroused general trepidation in Constantinople, apart from the selfish aims of
particular courtiers. But to understand the general state of affairs, we must
go back to consider the fortunes of the Court and the Empire during the sole
reign of Irene.
This period had been full
of dangers and discords. We have already noticed the ravages of the Arabs,
which had made Saccudio an unsafe place for the abode of the monks. Troubles
from the Bulgarians were chronic. There was another rising (strange to say, not
the last) of the miserable, mutilated uncles. And worst of all, as rendering
the other difficulties harder to cope with, and presenting fresh problems of
their own, were the bitter feuds among the chief ministers of Irene—Stauracius,
Aetius, and Nicetas.
The last proud moment,
perhaps, in the life of Irene, was the occasion on which, after the defeat of
the uncles, she rode on a chariot through the streets of Constantinople, drawn
by four milk-white steeds, which were led by four patricians, while she
scattered largess to the applauding crowd. But very soon after this came the
fall of Stauracius, on the accusation of Aetius and Nicetas,
and within a short time his sudden death, which seems to have warded off one
conspiracy and made room for another. At this juncture Irene had recourse to
popular measures and remitted certain taxes due from the citizens of
Constantinople, while she also lightened the duties (commerce) paid by the
ports of Abydos and Hieron. It seems possible that her
efforts to obtain the liberation of the brother of Tarasius, already related,
may have been designed to render the party of the Patriarch—now entirely united
with the Studites—more zealous in her support. But neither the people nor the
Church was likely to avail her against the ambition of Aetius and Nicetas. Aetius, indeed (after obtaining for himself the
government of Thrace and Macedon in addition to his previous offices) had
designs of setting a brother of his own, Leo by name, on the imperial throne.
Possibly he may have aimed at inducing or forcing Irene to adopt Leo as her
son. But any plots of his would prove unavailing if the ambassadors of Charles
had their way, since, whatever their actual instructions, they were evidently
believed by the Byzantines to have come with projects of marriage between
Charles and Irene, and of union between the two empires, or rather, since the
idea of duality was inconsistent with that of Roman imperialism, to bind in one
the parts which had lately been severed.
But there was a party in
Constantinople opposed alike to Charles and to Aetius, at the head of which
were Nicetas and his brother Sissinius.
These seem to have gained over some of the military leaders, and to have made
an instrument of one of the secretaries—the Chief Logothete Nicephorus. The Empress was at that time residing at a palace called Eleutherium, in the suburbs of the city. There she spent
her last night of freedom. For the leading conspirators spread a report that
Irene, fearing the wiles of Aetius, had proclaimed Nicephorus her colleague in
the Empire. The imperial residence, Chalce, was overpowered. Then a band was dispatched
to Eleutherium to secure the Empress and bring her
back into Constantinople. Her foes were now visible on all sides, her friends
singularly ineffective. Next day Nicephorus, who had already been crowned,
attended by several patricians, waited on the Empress, with expressions of
good-will towards her person, of regret at the undesired honour that had been thrust upon himself. In corroboration of these sentiments, he
pointed to his black shoes—for had he aspired to the throne, they would have
been purple. He promised her a life of comfort and dignity and requested her to
reveal the place where her accumulated treasure was hidden. Irene complied,
acknowledging Nicephorus as her sovereign, and asked to be allowed to live in
the Palace of Eleutherium, which she had herself
built. At the same time she is said to have made some devout reflections on the
instability of human fortunes and the need of submission to the Divine will.
Nicephorus naturally took possession of the treasure. He would not allow her,
however, to retain Eleutherium, but confined her in
the monastery which she had founded in the Island of Princeps. Subsequently she
was removed to Lesbos, where she soon afterwards died.
Meanwhile what were
Charles’s ambassadors doing? Why did not he choose the moment of confusion to
rescue the lady who was quite ready to become his bride, and to reseat her,
with himself, on the throne—as it would henceforth be—of a united Christendom?
And what was the Church doing? Was Tarasius, who had received so much good at
the hand of Irene, were Theodore and Plato, who had by her been restored to
liberty and honour, and who were only too ready to
ignore her worst offences, utterly unmindful of her cruel fate?
The answer seems to be that
neither of these parties was satisfied, but that both were compelled to hide
their feelings and to await the course of events. The Frankish ambassadors were
sent home. Charles was not even now determined to break with Byzantium, and, as
we shall see, he renewed his efforts for an alliance, even after Irene had been
deposed and superseded by Nicephorus. The ambassadors had probably told him
that there was no element or party in Constantinople on which he could rely.
But was there not a party
in the Church ready to support his policy and that of Pope Leo? Undoubtedly
there were many who, according to Theophanes, “living in piety and reason,
wondered at the Divine judgment, which had permitted that a woman who had
struggled and suffered for the true faith should be ousted by a swineherd” (an
epithet not to be taken literally). These were undoubtedly the feelings of
Theodore, who had shortly before written a panegyrical letter to Irene on the occasion already mentioned of the remission of the
tribute. But what was he to do? Nicephorus did not wish to break with the
monks—at any rate for the present. The Patriarch had, as before, shown a want
of backbone. We find him, soon after, crowning the son of Nicephorus as
joint-Emperor, and he is mentioned as negotiating for an amnesty to be granted
to some insurgents. The Studite monks were acting for the time in concert with
the Patriarch, and were included in the new Emperor s apparent good-will. But
they, at least, were not often found to be invertebrate. Why did not they rally
round Irene?
The answer is not an easy
one. We may suggest that possibly they did not entirely believe in Irene
after all, except in so far as she represented orthodoxy, and the best chance
would be given to orthodoxy if they remained in alliance with Nicephorus and
held back any possible movements towards an iconoclast policy. But even if they
had felt confidence in Irene, or in Irene and Constantine, how would they feel
with regard to Irene and Charles, or as it surely would have come about in the
end, to Charles and Irene? Those who know Theodore s standpoint with regard to
Rome as taken up in the controversy which was to follow—his recognition of the
Pope as successor of St. Peter, and as the highest spiritual authority—may
wonder whether he might not have concerted measures with Leo’s delegates. But
we must remember that at this time Tarasius was alive, and was, in a sense,
Theodore’s superior, also that the Western Church had never entirely accepted
the Second Council of Nicaea. Possibly there may have been a rapid growth of
Theodore’s notions as to Papal supremacy owing to the visit of the Roman
legates to Byzantium, and to the light in which they would probably represent
the Pope, as the acknowledged superior of the secular power. But, however this
may be, Studium weathered the storm, and Theodore’s work as abbot seems to have
been little affected by all the turmoil around.
The policy of Nicephorus,
in matters political and ecclesiastical, is not easy to unravel. Perhaps we may
safely set him down as an opportunist, who had not long anticipated his
elevation, and had no very definite programme. His
ancestors, according to tradition, had, from personal motives, abandoned first
the Christian and then the Mohammedan faith. He was said, by the monastic
party, to be orthodox in semblance only. Some have regarded him as a tool of
the iconoclasts, yet he does not seem to have taken any steps towards a distinctly
iconoclastic policy, and, as we have seen, he was careful to remain on good
terms with the Patriarch. The lenient treatment of the Manichees for which Theophanes reproaches him, may possibly mark some inclination in that
direction, and doubtless other acts of his may be interpreted in the same
light. But he was all through his brief reign in embarrassing circumstances.
The frugality with which he tried to remedy the effects of Irene s lavishness
was naturally construed as avarice, yet it did not suffice to maintain
effectual resistance to the Saracens—over whom Haroun al Rashid was now reigning at the highest point of magnificence—nor even to
overawe the Bulgarians. In one quarter, indeed, the Empire held its ground,
though not till after some reverses, and that chiefly by the cooperation of
local patriotism. The war between East and West, which paved the way for a
partial recognition of the coexistence of two Empires, was carried on not—as
originally seemed most probable—in Sicily, but in the neighbourhood of the
Venetians. Nicephorus had sent his ambassadors to accompany the returning
embassy from Charles, but no definite pact was obtained. Meantime, Venetia had
been stirred by the rival claims, and a party had appealed to Charles. The
story of the struggle for Venice, which was lost to the Empire in 806,
recovered for Nicephorus by the patrician Nicetas in
the same year, practically abandoned again after the invasion of Pippin in
810, but finally, by the arrangement of 811, left under the permanent lordship
of the Emperors at Constantinople, only indirectly belongs to our subject. It
is remarkable chiefly in the history of culture as marking the future
situation, and the beginning of what we may call the ducal independence of the
city of Venice. It is memorable in the history of East and West, because in the
correspondence and negotiations to which the whole affair gave rise, we have
statements made by those in authority which recognize the fact of a politically
divided Christendom, and allow us hereafter to speak of an Eastern and a
Western Empire. In a notable letter of Charles, written early in 811 he
expresses his disappointment that the efforts made in the first year of
Nicephorus “to make peace with us, and to join and unite these two [what? would
he say Empires?] in the love of Christ” had not been crowned with success. But
now he hopes for better things. The delimitation of frontier was made, although
the ultimate recognition of two distinct spheres of government was not made
with Nicephorus, but was left to his successor.
Meantime, Nicephorus had a
sufficient task on his hand to replenish his coffers, and to conciliate parties
at home. It is possibly to both of these motives that we may attribute an
action of his, to which little attention was directed at the time : he brought
the miserable Constantine VI. out of his place of retirement and received him
as his guest in the palace. His object, according to the unfavorable historian
who relates the incident, was not to show pity, but to discover hidden
treasure, and here Constantine, with his usual simplicity, served his purpose,
for he revealed to him that much wealth lay hidden in a place called the Sigma,
hidden under marble slabs. After the information had been given, Constantine
was of no more account. Now it seems an unusual step to employ a blind man in
seeking for treasure, though, of course, Constantine may have known of old all
the ins and outs of the palace. But it seems more probable, if we take this
story in connection with the subsequent conduct of Nicephorus, that he had
ulterior views. The name of Constantine’s grandfather was still potent among
the soldiers. Again, Constantine also seems to have had a child, or children,
by Theodote, who had been pronounced illegitimate, but whom Nicephorus might
possibly befriend and find useful. However, if there was any such prospect in
view, it was not realized. Constantine died early in the reign of Nicephorus,
and his body was given for burial to his first wife Mary, while his child was
pronounced illegitimated This decision seems to have been made at some council
held by the orders of the Emperors Nicephorus and Stauracius, Theodore himself
being present, and the whole affair suggests an attempt at a new departure made
by Nicephorus, and a temporary reversal of policy forced upon him by the party
of the Patriarch and the monks. The legitimate child of Constantine, Euphrosyne, lived and took the veil. But, like others of
her race, she underwent various experiences. We meet her again in Byzantine history
as the wife of Michael II.
In the year 806, the
Patriarch Tarasius died, and it was extremely important to all parties who
should become his successor. It is difficult to understand how the historians
of the monastic party eulogize his character, since he seems all through to
have acted a weak part. But we must remember that he had a difficult and
complicated role to play, and after all, it may have been due to his influence
that the change of dynasty was accomplished without bloodshed, and that any
renewal of iconoclastic persecution was postponed till after his death.
The object of the Emperor
seems to have been to find a man who would further him in his desires of
asserting a more independent ecclesiastical policy than had been possible for
him while Tarasius was backed by Theodore. At the same time, wishing to stand
well with Studium, he desired that his candidate should be approved by the
monastic leaders, and actually asked the advice of Plato on the appointment to be made. It seems most
probable that he demanded the opinions of both Plato and Theodore, as
practically colleagues in the government of Studium, since we have a reply
which they drew up jointly, though in all probability it was the work of the
younger man. This document is remarkable as an Eastern manifesto of the
relations of Church and State. Its language reminds us more of Rome than of
Byzantium, and suggests that the Studites had seen something of Pope Leo’s
ambassadors during their sojourn in Constantinople.
They begin by congratulating
Nicephorus on having been divinely appointed to rule over “the Christians” in
order that the secular government might be delivered from its evil condition
and that the leadership of the Church, if it were in any way failing, might be
restored. With regard to the world, he had accomplished his mission. It was now
his turn to see to the interests of the Church by approving a lawful and free
election to the vacant see. The writers have no candidate of their own, though
they doubt not that suitable men are to be found. The qualification on which
they lay stress is that the person to be chosen should have regularly ascended
the successive grades of the hierarchical ladder, in order that, having been
tempted in all things like the lesser clergy, he should be able to succour those that are tempted. The choice should be made
by a select council of leading men both of the higher clergy and of the hermits
and monks. The choice of these councillors was
apparently to be made by the Emperor, but it was practically laid down that the
whole body of the clergy was to be consulted. Even the Stylites were to descend from their pillars the recluses to come forth from their
retirement, to take part in a measure which concerned the common good. With
their advice the Emperor was to choose the fittest person. So would he (or they for Stauracius seems to be included in the address be blessed and
thrice-blessed, and the Empire likewise. Finally comes the clear statement of
their conception of Church and State, with a pointed practical application: “Since
God has bestowed on Christians two gifts, the priesthood and the empire, by
means of which terrestrial things are ordered and governed even as things celestial,
whichever of the two fails, the whole must needs be imperilled.
Wherefore, if you wish to acquire the greatest goods for your Empire, and
through your Empire for all Christians, let the Church receive as her president
one who equals, as far as possible, the imperial excellence. So shall the
Heavens rejoice and the Earth be glad”. Adulatory language, even when the
meaning is anything but adulatory, tends to become ambiguous. Did the abbots
mean to say : let somebody be chosen who is as good, if possible, as
yourselves; or, let a head of the Church be chosen equal in dignity to the head
of the State? We seem to find in the East also a conception of the Holy Roman
Empire and a Holy Roman Church whose respective heads should possess coordinate
authority over things secular and things spiritual.
It need hardly be said that
Nicephorus had no mind for a free election, still less for the appointment of
one who should be a colleague equal to himself. He had already found his man, a
member of the official circle, who bore his own name, Nicephorus. Apart from
his being a layman, there was no objection to this Nicephorus, who seems to
have been orthodox personally and by parentage, and of general respectability.
Plato, however, refused to accept his candidature, but made a nomination which
the clergy were ready to accept, but which the Emperor rejected. It has been
supposed that the person whom he nominated was Theodore himself. The words in
which Theodore tells of the transaction may seem to favor that view: “He sent
his vote—to whom it was given I forbear to say, but he sent it as in the
presence of God”. Still, if his nominee had been some other person—such, for
instance, as Joseph, Theodore’s brother, afterwards Bishop of Thessalonica—it
might still have been undesirable to mention his name. The approval which the
nomination received among the clergy is difficult to explain. Probably the
conclave was small and secret. In any case, Plato seems to have exerted himself
considerably, as he secretly left the monastery to use his influence with a
monastic friend about Court. On his return, he and Theodore were both seized by
the order of the Emperor and kept in custody for twenty-four days—that is,
until preliminary matters were settled and the ordination and consecration of
the new Patriarch were accomplished. When this was over, they returned in no
placid mood, yet they both thought it their duty to yield to the inevitable.
This was not a matter sufficient to cause a schism. In fact the appointment of
laymen to important episcopal sees had probably been of late rather the rule
than the exception. But they had asserted their principle. The time was at hand
when the imperial policy would bring the hidden discontent to light and would
force to a decisive issue the rival claims of the imperial and the
ecclesiastical power.
CHAPTER VII
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