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HISTORY OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE
FROM
THE DEATH OF THEODOSIUS THE GREAT
TO
THE CORONATION OF CHARLES THE GREAT
BY
ARTHUR M. CURTEIS
PREFACE.
This book is the substance of a course of lectures,
delivered to the two highest Forms in Sherborne School. It is meant to be a
help towards bridging over the gulf between the two sections of history, which
are popularly supposed to divide a little after the Christian era into
“ancient” and “modern.” Such a division, however, produces error and confusion,
by obscuring the unity and continuity of history; the teaching of which loses
half its value, if we forget that “Ancient” is the parent of “Mediaeval,” and
therefore of “Modern” history, and that Imperial Rome is the centre and
meeting-point of all history—“an Universal Empire in which all earlier history
loses itself, and out of which all later history grew”. The
position of Theodoric, Charles, or Frederick cannot be understood without
reference to that earlier Empire of Theodosius, Constantine, and Trajan, of
which the later was a direct consequence.
For this
reason I hope also that the book may be used with advantage in tlie highest
Forms in schools. The objection, indeed, is sometimes raised, that works of
this kind are of little use, being too condensed to be interesting or to convey
adequate information. The objection would be fatal if true. Their real utility,
however, depends on two things—the way in which they are used, and the judgment
with which a writer omits or condenses facts. It is clearly not necessary to
lay equal stress on all parts of history alike, because not all great men are
equally great, nor all important crises equally important. And, it is one
advantage of such a period as is embraced in this book, that it centres
naturally, and without the sacrifice of any important point, round the lives of
a few men, who from character or circumstances “ made ” the history of their
times. It is a further advantage, that almost every page necessarily contains
allusions which a competent lecturer may, if he will, make the text for
illustration, comment, and amplification. As random examples of what is meant,
p. 48 might suggest a lecture on the Aryan languages, and on the kind of proof
which they afford as to the relationship of Aryan nations; pp. 137 sqq. might
be illustrated by legends, similar to those there mentioned; while chap. ii.
would afford scope for a fuller explanation of the history and government of
the early Church. Used thus as a “textbook” to be indefinitely expanded, I
believe that a “hand-book ” may be made the vehicle of instruction both
accurate and wide.
My main
authorities throughout have been Gibbon, and Milman’s “Latin Christianity”.
The only original research to which I can lay claim is a frequent reference to
Eginhard for the life of Charles the Great. To Mr Freeman’s works I am largely
indebted, while in chap. I. I have borrowed freely from M. de Coulange’s “Cité
Antique.” Not only for that chapter, but for the majority of chapters, I cannot
acknowledge too warmly the debt which I owe to the works of the late M. Amedee
Thierry.
Lastly, I owe
to one friend special thanks for invaluable help and advice in every page of
the book—my colleague, the Rev. 0. W. Tancock.
A. M. Cukteis.
Sherborne, January 1875.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I.
ADMINISTRATIVE
AND LEGAL UNITY.
Death of Theodosius and Condition of Empire—Influence of the Provinces—Policy of Julius Cresar—Reform s delayed by Csesar’s Murder—Policy of Augustus, Tiberius, and Claudius—Importance of the Provinces—Edict of Caracallus—Consequences of the Edict—Jealousy of East and West—Diocletian—Diocletain’s failure—Constantine—Changes in the Constitution— Modification of Roman Law—Roman Law gradually softened —Responsa Prudentum and the Edictum Perpetuum—Summary
CHAPTER
II.
THE
CHRISTIAN CHURCH IN THE FIRST FOUR CENTURIES.
The Church recognised by Constantine—Christians confounded with Jews—Christians Disliked and Persecuted—Effects of Persecution on the Church—The Decian Persecution—Fifty Years’ Peace—The Diocletian Persecution—Toleration under Galerius and Constantine—rChristianity the dominant State Religion—Influence of Christianity on the Empire—Moral Evils deep-seated when Christianity was introduced—Effect of Christian Morality—Excellent Organisation of the Christian Church—Christianity the State Church
CHAPTER
III.
THE
BARBARIANS ON THE FRONTIER. CENT. IV.
Romans and Barbarians from the same Stock—Who were the Aryans ?—Semitic and Turanian Races—Aryan Migrations—Kelts —Teutons—Slaves—Relations between Empire and Barbarians —Tribes lying on Roman Frontiers—Huns—The Teutonic Races—The Goths—The Vandals—The Burgundians—The Franks—The Saxons—The Lombards—Summary of First Three Chapters
CHAPTER
IV
CHURCH
AND STATE IN CONSTANTINOPLE, EUTROPIUS, AND CHRYSOSTOM.
Death of Theodosius—Sons of Theodosius—Rise of Eutropius—Allies of Eutropius—Right of Asylum—Chrysostom: Life at Antioch—Death of Nectarius—Eutropius appoints Chrysostom —Character of Chrysostom—Hatred of Eutropius—Quarrel between Eutropius and the Empress—Interference of Chrysostom—His famous Sermon—Condemnation of Eutropius— Sequel of his Downfall
CHAPTER
V.
CHRYSOSTOM
AND THE EMPRESS EUDOXIA.
Difficulties of Chrysostom—Chrysostom unpopular with the Clergy —Unpopular with the Rich—The Friends of Chrysostom— Intrigues against Chrysostom—Troubles with the Arians— The “Tall Brothers” of the Nitrian Desert—Intrigues of Theophilus—Council of the Oak—Condemnation of Chrysostom—Sermon against the Empress—Deportation of Chrysostom to Chalcedon—Riot and Earthquake in Constantinople—Chrysostom Recalled—Statues of the Empress—Council of Constantinople—Chrysostom forbidden to leave the Palace—His Disobedience—The Council Ratifies his Condemnation—Chrysostom appeals to the West—Second Exile of Chrysostom— Riot and Burning of St Sophia—Chrysostom Conveyed to Cucusus—Removal to Pityus—Death at Comana in Pontus
CHAPTER
VI. ALARIC
AND THE VISIGOTHS—a.d. 396-419.
State of Italy—Alaric the Visigoth—Province of Eastern Illyri- cum—Alaric in Illyricum—Stilicho prepares to Attack—Alaric and Stilicho in Peloponnesus—Revolt of Gildo suppressed— Threatened Invasion of Italy—Battle of Polleutia—Inroad of Radagaisus—Olympius—Murder of Stilicho—Reaction in Italy—Alaric Marches on Rome—First Siege of Rome—Negotiations for Peace—Second Siege of Rome—Third Siege and Sack of Rome—Death of Alaric—Succeeded by Ataulf and Wallia
CHAPTER
VII.
GENSERIC
AND THE VANDALS—a.d. 423-533.
Events following the Death of Honorius—Valentinian III.—Pe- tronius Maximus—Last Twenty Years of the Western Empire —The Transition—The Vandals—Their Migrations—Genseric King—Invasion of Africa—The Vandal Kingdom—Rome sacked by Genseric—Policy of Genseric—Expedition against Carthage—Basiliscus its Leader—Defeat of the Expedition— Decline of the Vandal Power
CHAPTER VIII.
ATTILA
AND THE HUNS-A.D. 435-453.
King
Attila—The Traditions about Attila—Gallo-Roman and Italian Traditions—East
German or Gothic Traditions—West German and Scandinavian
Traditions—Nibelungen-lied—Hungarian Traditions—Summary—State of Central
Europe—Attila, King—Gradual Encroachments—Embassy to Constantinople—Counter -
Embassy—Attila demands the Princess Honoria—Alliance with Genseric and the
Franks—Attila Invades Gaul—Siege of Orleans—Relief of Orleans—Battle of
Chalons—Attila threatens Italy—Embassy from Rome to Attila—Attila leaves
Italy—Marriage and Death of Attila ...... 136-154
CHAPTER IX
THE
CHANGE OF GOVERNMENTCOMMONLY CALLED THE FALL OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE,
A.D.
475-526.
Results of Attila’s Death—Orestes the Pannonian—Romulus Au- gustulus—Downfall of Orestes and the Emperor—A Change in Form of Government—Odoacer “King”—Difficulties in and out of Italy—Odoacer subordinate to the Emperor—Theo- doric sent to reduce Italy to Obedience—March of Theodoric —Struggle between Odoacer and Theodoric—Convention of Ravenna—Murder of Odoacer—Prosperous Reign of Theodoric —Close of Theodoric’s Reign
CHAPTER
X.
THE
EMPEROR JUSTINIAN—A.D. 527-565.
Coutrast of East to West—Justinian—Justinian’s Rise—Description of Justinian—The Nika Riot—Belisarius compared to Marlborough—African Campaign of Belisarius—Position of the Vandals—Africa reduced in Three Months—Pretext for the Invasion of Italy—Belisarius reduces Sicily and South Italy—Siege of Rome by the Ostrogoths—Siege raised—Fall of Ravenna—Recall of Belisarius—Revolt of the Goths— Narses in Italy—Conclusion
CHAPTER
XI.
THE
EMPIRE IN RELATION TO THE BARBARIANS OF THE EAST—A.D. 450-650.
Subject of the Chapter—Results of the Death of Attila—Dangers 011 the Frontiers—The Middle Danube—Eastern Danube and North Coast of the Euxine—Huns on the Tanais—The Slavonians—Avars, Turks, &c., in Central Asia—Persia—Barbarian Irruptions across the Danube—The Avars—True Stoiy of “False Avars”—Avars attack the Slaves—Persian Encroachments—Heraclius prepares for War—Treachery of the Avars—Heraclius victorious in Persia—Successful Defence of Constantinople—Effects of the War
CHAPTER
XII.
MOHAMMED
AND MOHAMMEDANISM—A.D. 622-711.
Mohammedanism—Secondary Causes of Success—Characteristics of Arabia—Characteristics of Tribes—Political and Religious Confusion—Primary Causes of Success—Mohammed’s Early Years—Mohammed “called” to be the Prophet of God —Ill Success of Mohammed—The Hegira or Flight of Mohammed to Medina—First Proclamation of War against Infidels—Fall of Mecca—Death of Mohammed—The Doctrines of Mohammedanism—The Unity of God—Angels and Genii— The Koran—The Creed—Articles of Religion—Was Mohammedanism Original ?—Mohammedan Conquests
CHAPTER
XIII.
THE
POPES AND THE LOMBARDS IN ITALY—
Gregory the Great—State of Italy after its Conquest—The Lombards—Lombard Conquest of Italy—Territorial Limits of Exarchate—Gregory I.—Interview of Gregory with English Slaves—Gregory prevented going to England—Sketch of English History—St Augustine—Effects of Christianity in England—Gregory as Bishop, Pope, and (virtual) King—Gregory II.—Rise of Iconoclasm—Leo III. the Isaurian—Attempts to force Iconoclasm upon Christendom—Iconoclastic Controversy in the East—In the West, Papal Appeal to the Franks
CHAPTER
XIV.
THE
FRANKS AND THE PAPACY—A.D. 500-800.
The Franks—Gaul
under the Romans—Invasion of Roman Gaul— Gaul divided between Visigoths,
Burgundians, and Franks— Chlodwig and Merwing Dynasty—Rise of the Mayors of the
Palace—Charles Martel—Battle of Tours—Results of Charles’ Victory—Gregory III.
appeals to Charles—Gregory succeeded by Pope Zacharias—Coronation of
Pippin—Pippin and Pope Stephen — Pippin’s “ Donation” to the Papacy — Charles
CHAPTER
I.
ADMINISTRATIVE
AND LEGAL UNITY.
Death of Theodosius and Condition of Empire —The year a.d. 395
The year of the death
of Theodosius the Great was important in the history of Rome, The Empire,
which in 1,000 years had grown from the limits of a single city and a narrow
territory to embrace under one government, one law, one religion, the whole
civilised world, had fallen a prey to internal dissensions, and was to succumb
ere long to enemies from without. The evils consequent on the incessant wars of
the Republic, both foreign and civil, had wrought their effect. The middle
class in Italy was almost destroyed, and its place filled by a vast slave
population. Property had passed into a few hands. Conquest in the East had
brought an influx of Oriental vice and luxury. The old Roman faith and morality
were supplanted by mingled atheism and superstition. The gulf between rich and
poor grew ever wider. Honour, morality, public spirit, decayed, until “the
Empire,” the irresponsible rule of a single man, had become the best hope of
salvation for society, the only condition of impartial and just government. In
fact, there had been for many generations two opposite forces at work
simultaneously : on the one hand, and on the surface, the ever growing desire
for equality and unity; on the other hand, and beneath the surface, the
disintegration which follows from class hatred, from decay of honour and
political virtue, from immorality and ignorance. The disintegration was
complete when at the death of Theodosius the Empire fell asunder, and
"Milan or Ravenna in the west, and Constantinople in the east, became
rival capitals of rival empires, never again united.
Influence of the Provinces.—
The great Empire had now completed the work, which beginning
with the foundation of the city took its final direction and received its
greatest impulse from Julius Coesar. Roman history has many sides according to
our point of view: revolutions social and political; wars civil and foreign;
its laws, its great men; but Rome’s place in universal history is determined by
the great residt which she impressed on all the nations brought within her
influence—uniformity of administration, law, and religion. No doubt the process
was a slow one. It needed 1,000 years to consolidate so vast an Empire, and
weld it into one homogeueous mass. For 250 years Rome had withheld her rights
of citizenship from her Italian subjects—rights only wrung from her by defeat.
To the provinces, the confederate states, the allied kings, the Roman Senate
maintained a haughty attitude, allowing them to groan beneath the rapacity aud
tyranny of unscrupulous proconsuls, whom the tribunals were too interested or
too corrupt to convict. But in their extremity they found allies. The
democratic party in Rome, engaged in a desperate struggle with the aristocrats,
were glad to find allies in the provincials; the provincials in their turn were
ready enough to purchase by alliance what they so much coveted, citizenship and
Policy of Julius Caesar.—
Of so many-sided a genius it is natural that men should form
different estimates; it would he difficult to form an entirely just one.
Beyond a doubt he was ambitious, immoral, and quite free from scruples. But if
he had the ambition to be the first man in the state, he had also the foresight
to see what a magnificent opportunity the errors of the aristocratical party
had given him, and the genius to use it with success. Men act from mixed
motives; and it would be as absurd to ascribe Caesar’s extraordinary career to
motives of selfish ambition only, as to credit him with feelings of pure
philanthropy. He had all the genius, rapidity of action, fertility of resource,
and versatility of Napoleon, but
he was a far greater man. It may have been cunning ambition, it may well have
been some more honourable feeling, which prompted him from his entrance into
public life to form and maintain friendly intercourse with the leading men and
senates of various provinces—to procure the Roman franchise for Gallia
Transpadana—to keep up a correspondence, even during his hottest campaigns,
with all parts of the Empire—to spend money in repairing public buildings in
Gaul and Spain, Asia and Greece. Whatever were his motives, he had his reward,
and that without delay. The provincials, despised and ignored by the
aristocracy of Italy, saw their opportunity in the impending struggle of
parties, and when Caesar crossed the Rubicon (B.C. 49), and committed himself
to the contest with the Senate, it was with the open support of some, and the
good wishes, expressed or understood, of all the Boman provinces. And, thus
supported, in four years he was master of the Empire.
Reforms delayed by Caesar’s Murder—B.C. 44.—
The reorganisation of the body politic
should naturally now have commenced; it was a calamity for the world that
Csesar fell a victim to political vengeance almost before he had begun the work
of reform. Some few hints, however, are left us of his probable intentions. He
projected a codification of the laws—a geographical survey of the Empire—a
reform of the law courts—an increase of the Senate to the number of 1,000, by
the admission of provincial notables, especially from Gaul and Spain—an
extension of the rights of citizenship (beyond the mere accident of birth and
locality) to all men of education, intelligence, or wealth throughout the
Empire, a principle afterwards accepted and extended—and lastly, a large increase
of colonies. Of these vast projects a part only was even begun, but it is as
easy to perceive the general idea of their originator as to understand the rage
of the aristocratic party, whose most cherished privileges would thus have been
destroyed. Uniformity of rights and privileges meant for them loss of power and
dignity. The death of Csesar appeared their only means of safety; and so the
hand of the enthusiast Brutus was armed with the assassin’s dagger. But they
had miscalculated the effect of the blow. It simply threw the provinces into
the arms of Csesar’s adopted son, and rendered their own cause and the cause of
the Republic hopeless. It threw extraordinary powers into the hands of
individual leaders, and for one political purpose only—the unification of the
Empire on the ruins of the Republic.
Policy of Augustus, Tiberius, and Claudius.—
The policy of Julius was accepted by his
successors more or less entirely as a tradition of the Empire. Augustus, however,
more cautious and less foreseeing, was content to consolidate and organise. In
order to acquaint himself with
“Could not
Italy,” it was urged, “find men enough to furnish her own Senate ? At least
she had done so in the good old days ! And now a mass of aliens must be introduced
to oust the poor nobles and senators of Latium— aliens, too, who but the other
day had fought against Caesar, and whose ancestors had even burnt Eome itself
!” Tacitus has given us also the purport of Claudius’ reply. He began by
reminding his hearers that Eome owed even her origin and early fortunes, and
many of her noblest families, to the principle of comprehension. “ In the
palmiest days of the Eepublic, Etruria, Lucania, all Italy, had sent members to
the Senate. JSTor was this all. The plebs had been admitted to share
magistracies with the patricians, the Latins and other Italian nations with
both. The peace of Italy had been assured from the day when the nations beyond
the Padus had beeu admitted to the citizenship. Lastly/' he asked, “why did
Athens and Sparta, powerful as they were, perish, but for the fact that they kept
their vanquished foes at arms’ length, as though they were foreigners V' The
demand of the Gauls was granted; but the savage indignation of the old aristo-
cratical party, long pent up, broke out in innuendo and satire. “ TVhat else
could one expect,” says their mouthpiece, Seneca, “from one born in a province
!”
Importance of the Provinces.—
Yet in spite of the oligarchs the tide was now flowing
strongly, and could not be stemmed. The provinces had made good their footing
as integral parts of the Empire. The Senate (to which Tiberius had transferred
the powers of the ancient “comitia,” and which he transformed into a sort of
immense privy council), the bar, the army, were all crowded with provincials.
Eich men from the provinces flocked to Italy, and bought out the dissolute or
impoverished representatives of old patrician families. Literary men opened
Edict of Caracallus—a.d. 212.—
One
thing now, and only one, remained to finish the important movement, which had
been inevitable from the day when Eome’s first province was annexed. In the
year a.d. 212, an edict of Caracallus extended
the rights of Eoman citizenship to every free inhabitant of the Eoman Empire.
It is easy to assign motives, and historians, astonished that
Consequences of the Edict.—
The consequences of the edict were curious and far-reaching.
Henceforth the old-fashioned distinctions—Eoman, Latin, Federal, Ally,
Subject—all vanish. There are but two words to express the inhabitants of the
world,—“ Ingenuus,” the Eoman, the Freeborn; and “Peregrinus,” the Slave, the
Barbarian. Within the Empire the long struggle for equality was finished. In
another way, however, its consequences were disastrous to the Empire itself,
while useful to the world at large. The glory of the name “Eoman” became less
and less, as it was shared by greater numbers. "What had once been a bond
of union to a handful of men among strangers, a badge of privilege, an object
of ambition, a source of loyalty to the mother city, ceased to be a
distinction, or the cause of any great advantage, when shared by all in common.
Eivalries had been forgotten, local and narrow interests overlooked, as long as
there
Jealousy of East and West.—
And now dangers were threatening the frontier on many
quarters at once, on the Euphrates, the Danube, the Rhine. The second Persian
Empire was
just rising on the ruins of the Parthian (a.d. 226)—the Goths were on the
Danube—Eranks and'Alemanni were menacing the West. And yet, at such a crisis it
was that the jealousy of East and West made united action almost impossible,—a
jealousy which, arising from diversity of language and ideas, and from
contrariety of interests, had only lain dormant beneath the pressure of
superior force, and now that from various causes the central power was weaker,
began to gradually undermine the stability and unity of the Empire. Indeed, a
tendency to division had shown itself many years before. Long since, on the
death of Nero (a.d. G8), Spain, Africa, Gaul, and Syria had set up favourites
of their own. In later days, when Commodus was murdered (a.d. 192), and the
miserable Pertinax and Didius successively ascended and were hurled from the
throne within six months, the choice of Emperor was contested by the legions of
Britain, Pannonia, and Syria. This tendency in the outlying provinces to
nominate Emperors of their own, and in the strong frontier armies to break
loose from the central authority, increased as time went on, until in the
middle of the third century, and under the feeble rule of Gallienus (a.d. 2
60-2 G 8), rival claimants of independent authority rose in many quarters at
once (the so-called “Thirty Tyrants”), and only ten years later
Diocletian—a.d.
300.—The difficulties, indeed, of the Roman government towards the close of the
third century were not removed, but only changed. It was not now the
persevering claims of provincials which had to be reconciled with the haughty
exclusiveness of an ancient aristocracy. That was a tiling of the past. What
most embarrassed the governments of Probus and Diocletian was the vast extent
of the Empire, coupled with the threatening attitude of the barbarians, and
the independent mutinous spirit of the legions. Emperor after Emperor was murdered.
Legion after legion revolted. To guard the frontiers, to anticipate dangers,
to control the soldiers, to humour* or repress powerful subordinates, and,
meanwhile, to carry on the political administration of a huge empire, was a
task too great for one man to fulfil The problem was how to multiply and extend
the direct action of the central power without destroying the hardly-won unity
of the Empire. An attempt to solve it was made by Diocletian (a.d. 284). He
conceived the idea of an undivided Empire governed by two Emperors,—one in the
East, the other in the West,—governing in concert, on the same principles, and
by the same laws. Frequent interviews were to insure then’ unanimity. Even so,
however, there remained the danger of either or both the Emperors falling, as
before, under the influence of some praetorian prefect or court favourite, and
the yet greater danger of an unsettled succession. Accordingly, the governing
power was again doubled. To each “Augustus ” was attached a “ Caesar,” a
subordinate colleague \ and these, in their turn, were to rise to the highest
rank, and thus supply an undisputed
Diocletian’s Failure.—
On the other hand, while the court and Emperor were thus hedged round
with external respect, and government agents and officials indefinitely
multiplied throughout the provinces, the influence of the Senate was sapped and
ultimately destroyed, not only
The effect of
the reforms introduced by Diocletian was not precisely what he had
contemplated. Their principle, indeed, the principle of duality in unity, was
recognised up to the downfall of the 'Western Empire, and even later, and was
more thoroughly carried out by his greatest successor Constantine, than by
Diocletian himself. The main evil, however, which they were intended to correct
they did in truth aggravate. As long as the four rulers of the Empire were
unanimous, and each subordinated his private interests to an imperial policy
and the common weal, disruption was impossible, and the mutual jealousies of
East and West were repressed by sheer force. Eut when the interests and
ambition of one Augustus conflicted with those of the other, when Ctesar
intrigued against Caisar, and the Empire was again desolated by civil wars, the
old jealousy broke out with redoubled violence; while in each quarter of the
Empire there was now an armed force, and a great military chief able to asser
this independence. Constantine’s vigour and force of character, it is true,
once again held together the discordant mass (a.d. 30C-337), but it was only
for a few years.
On his death
anarchy again ensued; reunion became more and more impossible; and in a.d. 364,
Yalentinian divided the Empire with his brother Valcns,—a division which meant
no longer the joint rule of an undivided Empire, but two Emperors ruling two
Empires, never again united.
Constantine—a.d. 330.—
The name of Constantine will be remembered mainly for two reasons—his
recognition of Christianity, and his foundation of a new capital. The same
motives which actuated Diocletian in abandoning Eome deterred Constantine from
returning to it; and he had another besides. JSTot only was he equally alive
with Diocletian to the special dangers of the time, which he strove to avert by
an extension of Diocletian’s policy, but he was also a Christian; and a
Christian Emperor committed to a policy of despotic absolutism could hardly
find a congenial or suitable capital in Pagan Eome, where a Senate was still
sitting, and the traditions at least of liberty and equality were still alive.
Constantine, how ever, victorious in many a pitched battle over formidable
rivals, was not one to acquiesce quietly in the dismemberment of the Empire.
He clung to the imperial tradition of its unity, and for him, therefore,
Mcomedia and Milan were as impossible capitals as Eome. In the final struggle
with Licinius (a.d. 323), he had seen and noted the unrivalled position of
Byzantium, the home for centuries of a Greek colony. Standing, like Eome
herself, on seven hills, and midway as it were between Europe and Asia, it
possessed a magnificent harbour of seven miles in length, the so-called “
Golden Horn,” a temperate climate, a fertile soil; and the approach on the land
side was of narrow extent, and easily defensible. Here in less than seven
years arose the glorious city, whose successful resistance to all attacks for 1
100 years is in itself a proof of its founder’s
wisdom.
Constantinople (so the new capital was named), the abode of the Emperor and his
court, the seat of government, the headquarters of Christianity, was soon
filled with a dense population, drawn thither from all quarters of the Empire
by one motive or another, and was solemnly inaugurated as the capital of the
Empire on May 11th, 330. In less than a century the neAv Rome had surpassed the
old both in wealth and numbers.
Changes in the Constitution.—
Nor was Constantine content with a mere change of
capital. The numbers of the “bureaucracy,” or government officials, were continually
increased; military and civil functions were for the first time separated; a
new order of nobility was introduced; the term “patrician ” ceased to be an
hereditary, and became a purely personal distinction; agents were employed in
hundreds as “ king’s messengers,” to convey despatches, who too soon became
also informers to headquarters; lastly, to diminish the possibility of revolt,
the number of men in a legion was reduced from 6,000 to about 1,500, while the
actual numbers of the army itself were increased. Each legion had been a corps
d'armee, and was now reduced to the position of a regiment, or at most of a brigade.
There were six praetorian prefects with administrative functions only (the
prefects of Eome, and Constantinople, of the East, Illyricum, Italy, and Gaul),
and two masters-general of cavalry and infantry, responsible for the military
arrangements of the Empire. This organisation of ranks and honours was carried
from the highest down to the very lowest classes of society, even the
working-classes in city and country being arranged in guilds and corporations,
with similarity of occupation as their basis. Thus, from the Emperor on the
throne to the serf on the farm, there was a settled gradation of ranks, the
object of which was to secure to
Modification of Roman Law.—
The administrative unity thus completed had been accompanied,
almost pari passu, by a remarkable modification of Roman law, calculated to
meet the needs of a vast empire. The contrast between the haughty
exclusiveness of the patrician aristocracy of 'the Republic, and the humane and
just comprehensiveness of the Empire, is not more striking than that between
the stem and almost brutal law of early Rome and the equitable maxims and
philosophical principles of the later imperial jurists. Roman law, indeed, was
only one instance of the rigid spirit pervading all Aryan law. “ In ancient
law,” says Mr Maine, “ we are met by the family as the unit of society, in
modern b^ the individualiSfow the constituting principle of the family,
according to primitive Aryan ideas (see chap. iii.), was neither
blood-relationship nor natural affection, but family worship,—the worship in
earliest times not of various gods representing the forces of nature, much less
of one God (a much later development), but of the dead. The due worship of the
departed members of the family was the primary duty of its living members, and
to secure this was the object of ancient law. And this is the key to the
otherwise unintelligible severity of Roman law. The priest of the family was
the father, invested, therefore, with all the stringent privileges of patria
potestas. Hence the importance of the male, of the son, who in his turn was to
become the family priest, and the utter unimportance of the female, who as
daughter only assisted at her father’s worship, as wife at her husband’s. Apart
from father or husband, she had no existence in the eye of the law; and
marriage, performed with certain definite religious ceremonies (confarreatio),
was in fact her initia
a son at
pleasure. The wife’s dowry and the son’s labour belonged to him of right.
Within the walls of his house he was sole judge, and could in certain cases
even condemn to death without appeal. Long after the worship of ancestors had
ceased, long after the “family” had expanded into the “gens” or “clan,” and the
gens into the “curia,” and the “curia” into the “tribe,” and the “tribe” into
the “city,” these ancient prerogatives were still enjoyed by the paterfamilias.
Roman Law gradually Softened.—
The reason of this harshness, it may be, lies in the
fact that the social customs and institutions of the Roman Republic were
identical with those of the great Aryan family prior to its disruption, while
their political institutions were totally different, being of far later growth
under quite other conditions of life. Now, “ social,” no less than “
political,” relations modify, at the same time that they are regulated by law.
We should expect, therefore, what actually happened, that when Rome came in
contact with other nations beyond her frontiers, Roman law was profoundly
modified. A comparative study of alien laws and customs gave rise to a new
term, jus gentium, expressive of the general point in which they were observed
to agree; while by a further induction the Roman lawyers strove to arrive at
the abstract principles of justice, jus naturale, underlying them all, with a
view to the modification of their own barbarous civil law. These principles
were gradually embodied in the “edicts” of the praetors, the “rules” which they
published annually on their entrance into office; and by slow degrees tended to
banish the study of the Twelve Tables even from the schools, where they had
formed part of the usual course. But in this, as in the wider field of
political right, there were two parties, and a struggle between the con-
ROM.
EMP. B
servatives
and the reformers. The new views mainly affected such questions as the position
of slaves, the marriage and dowries of women, wills, wardship, disinheritance,
titles to property, deht,—questions on which the civil law was most obviously
at variance with natural justice. And the general tendency was always towards a
relaxation of strictness.
Responsa
Prudentum and the Edictum Per- petuum.—It remained for the Empire to organise
these new principles of law, as it had organised the political administration.
Since the Emperors concentrated in their own hands every old republican office,
amongst others the tribimitia potestas, they became, therefore, in their own
persons a court of- final appeal. Part of the onerous duty they delegated to
the proetorian prsefect, in part they were assisted by a commission of lawyers,
whose opinions [responsa •prudentum) were supposed to emanate from the Emperor
himself, and to guide the decisions of judges. Thus by a legal fiction the
Emperor was the interpreter of the law. Moreover, when Tiberius transferred to
the Senate the legislative and other powers of the comitia, senatus consult a,
being discussed and passed beneath the Emperor’s eyes, were in fact his work,
and before long imperial “decrees” and “rescripts” were published as ipso facto
laws. It is clear, however, that such a system had no method, and that the
edicta prcBtorum and the responsa prudentum must have been innumerable, and
always increasing, shifting, and some- * times
contradictory. With the view, therefore, of reducing chaos to order, the
Emperor Hadrian published the edictum. perpetuum. Taking the edict published by
the great lawyer, Salvius Julianus, during his year of office, he made it the
standard of legal decisions for Eome and Italy,—a rule to which subsequent
praetors were
bound to
conform, save in new and exceptional cases. Marcus Aurelius extended its
application to the provinces, under the name of Eclidum ;provinciate. More and
more henceforward the civil law and the jus gentium tended to agree, until at
last Christianity introduced a principle which human law could not, the
brotherhood of all men, and so fundamentally changed their relations, at least
in theory. Little by little the patria potcAas was deprived of its absolute
character, until xmder Justinian it meant no more than the moral authority
belonging to the head of the family. Marriage with religious ceremonies became
confined to the pontijices; the wife’s dowry became inalienable without her
consent, and afterwards inalienable altogether; the distinction ceased between
agnati and cognati, and with it the necessity for adoption ; in the case of
property natural relationship began to occupy a larger and larger place, and
the law of succession became gradually regulated on simple principles of
greater or less “proximity.” These few instances will serve to illustrate how
law became gradually synonymous with equity.
Summary.—Thus
at the death of the Emperor Theodosius (a.d. 395), we have before us the
spectacle of a vast Empire, troubled indeed by internal jealousies, and weakened
by causes past remedy, yet presenting on the surface, at least, an appearance of
unity,—governed in the same way and on the same principles from end to end, in
Asia as in Italy, in Africa as in Gaul, and subject throughout to the same
laws.
THE CHRISTIAN
CHURCH IN THE FIRST FOUR CENTURIES.
The
Church recognised by Constantine.—Little has been said as yet of one of the
most important forces at work within the Empire—the Christian Church In three
centuries the small body of first believers in Christ, a mere handful in
numbers, having all things in common, had grown into a vast and organised
Church, wealthy and powerful, whose bishops took equal rank with the military
and civil officers of State, and which counted followers in every province of
the Empire. Indeed, at the time of its recognition by Constantine, Christianity
was already an established society, with its own officers, its own revenues,
its own code of laws; and after Constantine’s conversion Christians stepped at
once into prominence and influence. Thousands of the best and most upright men
in the Em pire, previously ignored or persecuted by the State, were thus
restored to civil and political life; and of course the State benefited
accordingly.
This chapter
will narrate the fortunes of the Church to the end of the fourth century, and
touch upon the means whereby she won her way to recognition, equality,
supremacy, and the special difficulties with which she had to contend
Christians
confounded with Jews.—Perhaps the most remarkable thing in the rise of
Christianity is the silence and obscurity in which it worked its way, and the
scanty records that remain to us of its progress. "We gather, indeed, from
the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles, that the work of “ organisation” had
begun before S. Paul’s death, and that the number of believers increased
continuously; we know that as they became more numerous the Christians were
confounded with the Jews in common estimation, and thus suffered persecution
(not only from them but) in common with them. Yet up to the persecution under
Nero (a.d. 64) they attracted so little attention at Eome by their numbers or
religious observances, that S. Paid was detained for two years (a.d. 61-63) as
a mere political prisoner in what was called Custodia militaris, and then
probably set at liberty, while contemporary writers—like Lucan and the elder
Pliny, Persius and Juvenal—make no mention of them Even the persecution just
named, consequent on the great fire of Eome, and set on foot (if we may believe
Tacitus) by Nero himself, very probably arose from Christians being confounded
with Jews in the eyes of the people, or from the Jews accusing them to screen
themselves. One thing is certain, that the Christians in Eome suffered dreadful
tortures at this time, while before they had enjoyed complete toleration; and
it is not improbable that the persecution itself first opened the eyes of the
Eoman government and people to the existence of the Christian Church, among
them but not of them, while it made subsequent persecutions seem natural and
defensible. Amidst all the pomp and bustle of the great capital, a Eoman would
hardly stop to distinguish in his own mind Jew from Christian, or either of
them from the votaries of other Eastern religions who were always flocking to
Eome.
But when the
existence of this new sect, and its aggressive, uncompromising temper were once
fairly realised, it is evident that the average Eoman was much perplexed by the
attitude of the Christians, by their obstinate firmness, coupled with their
innocence of vice or crime. This is clear from Pliny’s letter of inquiry to the
Emperor Trajan regarding his treatment of them in his province of Bithy- nia.
He does not understand, nor apparently much care to understand their views and
hopes; yet he admits their singular purity, honesty, and simplicity, while
stating that acknowledgment of their faith met with capital punishment at his
hands. And the Emperor expresses approval of this policy, merely warning Pliny
not to allow search to be made for the offenders, nor to accept anonymous
information.
Christians
Disliked and Persecuted.—There was, in fact, more than one reason why a Eoman
should feel suspicion and jealousy towards Jews and Christians alike. Both
announced their confident hope in a “Deliverer” soon to come. Both held aloof,
almost with horror, from the social life and customs and religious practices of
the people around them. If the former seemed the more dangerous, because still
a nation, still capable of sudden and dangerous rebellion, the latter were not
less obstinate in their nonconformity, while they had apparently less reason
for it. They were a sect or (even worse) a “ secret society,” whose objects
were imperfectly understood, and therefore all the more hateful to a despotic
government. To a soldier and disciplinarian like Trajan, Christianity seemed
little better than treason. On the other hand, men’s minds were being deeply
stirred by vague rumours, now of an expected return of some pretended Nero from
the East, now of intrigues in Partliia, now of fires and earthquakes and
eruptions, all tending to rouse and in-
flame fanaticism.
Of this latent dislike and suspicion, easily fanned into active hatred, the
Christians became the objects. And they did not shrink from the ordeal, more
and more terrible as time went on. Bishops and leading men like Ignatius and
Polycarp even courted a death which they least deserved. It may well have been?
moreover, that the dislike felt in the highest as well as the lowest circles
towards the Christians, when once attention had been drawn to their existence,
was aggravated by the mutual jealousy of East and "West. For Christianity
was of the East, its language, organisation/ Scriptures, and liturgy, being all
alike Greek—that is, to a Eoman of those days, foreign. If we attempt to estimate
the converging force of all these prejudices—of the dislike felt by soldiers
and statesmen, and the hatred of the fanatic, licentious, and ignorant—we shall
be surprised that Christianity survived the storm at all.
Effects
of Persecution on the Church.—But the blood of martyrs is the seed of the
Church. The persecutions in the reigns of JSTero and Trajan may have been
local, and traceable to accidental and temporary causes; not so the subsequent
persecutions under Aurelius, Sep- timius, Decius, and Diocletian. That which to
Trajan had been merely a breach of state discipline, and punishable
accordingly, seemed to his successors a far more serious crime, in proportion
as to neglect and insult the national gods at a moment of increasing disaster
was worse than merely declining State duties in a time of comparative peace and
tranquillity. Now began, also, the publication of those “Apologies” for
Christianity which served to show at once that Christians were too numerous to
be any longer overlooked, while they were too few or too true to their
principles to offer resistance to persecution. The reign of the great and good
Aurelius, so terrible to the
Christians,
was marked by the appearance of many such works. It is scarcely wonderful to
find, on the other hand, that men and women quailed sometimes before the storm,
and that a practice began to arise which, intended as a means of escape,
eventually proved a stimulus to persecution. No longer overlooked with
contemptuous indifference, but exposed to the hatred of the mob, the jealousy
of the authorities, the coldness and perhaps treachery of friends and
relations, what wonder if weak brethren here and there yielded to temptation,
and stooped to purchase from the magistrate his connivance in their secret
profession of Christianity? The evil grew. Not individuals only,but whole
churches raised funds for buying off their members from molestation, while the
funds themselves only served to stimulate the cupidity of informers and
officials, and so to aggravate the sufferings threatened or inflicted. A
further abuse followed. The magistrates received powers to issue an order that
so and so, mentioned by name, should do sacrifice to the gods, and thus prove
that he was not a Christian. It became gradually a common practice for such a
person to give notice, through a friend, that he was in reality a Christian,
and therefore could not sacrifice, but was ready to pay a fine to be excused.
On this he received a libellus or certificate of his having duly offered the
required sacrifice, and being accordingly exempt from the penalty of the law.
The acting of this practical lie was sharply denounced by Cyprian, Bishop of
Carthage (about X a.d. 250), as a sin. But the- custom was in fact only a
symptom of what is harshly called the “degeneracy” of the Catholic Church, that
is, of the effects consequent on its increase of numbers, and unavoidably
increased connection with the non-Christian world. It was no longer unusual
for Christians to resort to heathen courts of justice, to be servants in
heathen households, to contract
marriage with
heathens, to frequent heathen theatres and spectacles, and to defend the
practice by appeals to Scripture. Such an intermingling invariably results in
a certain relaxation of original strictness, and in the growth of abuses.
The Decian
Persecution—a.d. 248.—The “accidental tempest,” as Gibbon calls it, of the
persecution under Septimius (about a.d. 200) was followed by an almost complete
lull of thirty-eight years. But the short reign of Decius brought such
suffering on the Church as made previous years since the times of Domitian and
Nero seem all like years of peace. Like Aurelius, this Emperor was called upon
to face new and unexpected dangers on the frontiers from the Goths; and like
Aurelius, anxious to restore the power and unity of the empire, and perplexed
as to the causes of its growing weakness, he seemed to perceive them in the
obstinate nonconformity of the Christians. Instruments were found only too
readily to act upon the imperial ideas. For the Christian theory and practice
were too high not to excite dislike, which soon passed into active hatred and
violence. The test of sacrifice to the gods was, by a special edict, ordered to
be applied at once to all suspected persons. Numbers were consigned to prisons
and to mines. Multitudes fled from their homes to the mountain or the desert,
only to fall victims to starvation or wild beasts. Antioch, Alexandria,
Carthage, and not cities only, but even villages, suffered from this
inquisition. Eome for the first time saw her bishop suffer martyrdom (Fabianus,
a.d. 249); Cyprian escaped from Carthage for a while, but was beheaded eight
years afterwards, the first martyr among African bishops. Origen of Alexandria
was tortured at Caesarea, and died of injuries then received. But in churches,
as in individuals, times of
trouble are
often less dangerous to virtue than times of peace and prosperity, and the
Decian persecution purified while it tested the Christian Church.
Fifty Years’
Peace.—And now, once again, for more than fifty years, there was comparative
rest for Christians. Either their relative importance had so far increased, or
the world at large had become so familiar with their name and customs, that
they were permitted to avow their faith openly, to conduct their elections
publicly, to fill offices, to build churches. We are, in fact, approaching the
time when the State was no longer able to withhold recognition from a body,
which counted its adherents by thousands in every province of the empire. Even
in the reign of Deems (a.d. 250) the Roman Church itself had a bishop,
forty-six presbyters, who were the parish priests of Rome, seven deacons, and
ten “suburbi- carian” or suffragan bishops of adjacent towns, like Ostia or
Tibur, who met in Synod at Rome. By the end of the fourth century the bishops
of the empire numbered 1,800,-1,000 in the Eastern provinces, and 800 in the
Western, who were elected by the inferior clergy, the nobles, and people of the
diocese, and the election ratified by the bishops of the province. That the
doctrines of Christianity should find favour with women and slaves was not,
perhaps, astonishing, considering the position they occupied in the world. We
find them even penetrating, not now for the first time, to the interior of the
palace, and the wife and daughter of the Emperor Diocletian, and many of his
principal officers, embraced the tenets and protected the faith of
Christianity. The first eighteen years’ of Diocletian’s reign, indeed, were
years of perfect toleration, for the Emperor was a man of great breadth of view,
and of a generally humane disposition. But its close was disfigured by a fierce
persecution, the
order for
which was wrung from him rather than voluntarily issued. There is no question
that for nearly 200 years the influence of Christian ideas had been secretly
working an effect beyond the limits of the Church in reawakening belief, not
perhaps in polytheism, but in natural religion. And this reaction operated in
two ways. While it inclined the more virtuous and thoughtful to view the
Christians with tolerance, it influenced the religious fanaticism of the
ignorant, and supplied a ready mine of violence, when violence was needed. At
times this fanatical spirit was exasperated beyond bounds, by the knowledge
that not only was the number of converts to Christianity daily increasing, but
the area from which they were drawn was daily widening—that not only the poor
but the rich, not only the ignorant but the educated, not only the slave but
the high born lady, were falling within the fatal influence of the new
religion, and alienating the gods by their apostacy. And this helps to explain
the curious fact that, while on the whole, from Trajan onwards, the Christians
enjoyed longer and larger intervals of toleration and peace, the persecutions
when they arose were more and more searching and terrible.
The
Diocletian Persecution—a.d. 303.—The persecution of the year 303 seems to have
differed somewhat from others in its origin, as well as in its character.
Diocletian’s colleagues, Maximian and Galerius, entertained a strong dislike
towards Christianity—a dislike deepened and strengthened by the discovery, that
the army also was tainted with these dangerous notions. No thorough-going
soldier, indeed, could possibly overlook such conduct as that of Marcellus, the
centurion, who, at a public festival, being called upon to sacrifice to the
gods, threw away belt and arms, and insignia of office, and exclaimed aloud
that he would obey none but Jesus Christ, the eternal King,
and that he
renounced for ever the use of human weapons. He was tried, condemned, and
"beheaded for mutiny and desertion. This was martial law, however, not
religious persecution; but this and other like incidents appear to have sunk
deeply into the mind of Galerius, as being symptoms of prevalent principles,
dangerous to public safety. Accordingly, after the Persian war, when Galerius
spent the winter of the year 302 -with Diocletian at Mcomedia, he used, and
used successfully, his utmost efforts to induce the Emperor to assent to a
fresh trial, whether this ira- ■perium in imperio, with its own taxes,
and officers, and code of laws, could not finally be extirpated. The opening
act of the drama was the destruction, onEebruary 23, 303, of the principal
church in Nicomedia by the imperial troops. On the next day an imperial edict
was published, ordering that all churches throughout the Empire should be
demolished, that those who held secret assemblies for religious purposes shoidd
be punished with death, that all sacred books and writings should be publicly
burnt, and the property of the Church confiscated. Freeborn Christians were
debarred from honours or employment, Christian slaves from all hope of
emancipation. Scarcely, however, was the edict posted in Mcomedia when it was
torn down by the hand of a Christian, who paid the penalty of his life. He was
arrested and roasted to death over a slow fire. Diocletian’s alarm at the
approbation expressed at the act was further increased by his palace being discovered
to be on fire twice within fifteen days—a deed, of course, attributed to
Christian malice. Accordingly, his scruples were silenced, and the bloody work
of persecution began. Some opposition and slight disturbances in the execution
of this edict increased his indignation, and led to the publication of further
and severer edicts, directing the arrest of all ecclesiastics, and the
employment of
any severity to reclaim Christians from their rebellion against the gods, and
their treason to the Empire. Even inmates of the palace and high officials were
compelled to abjure Christianity, or were put to death. The Eishop of Nicomedia
was beheaded. Many Christians were burnt alive, many thrown into the sea with
stones round their necks. From the capital the persecution spread into the
provinces, where they were assailed by the united forces of the government, the
pagan priesthood, the mob, and the philosophers. Gaul alone in a measure
escaped, thanks to the humanity, or (if we may beheve Eusebius) the Christian
sympathies of Constan- tius Chlorus. It is the worst evil of religious, perhaps
of all persecution, that in order to succeed it must have recourse to always
increasing severities, and be prepared to go all lengths, even to
extermination. There is only one alternative, the acknowledgment of failure.
Hence, in the present case, edict succeeded edict, each more barbarous than the
preceding, as Christian courage and heroism rose higher. The illness and
abdication of Diocletian even aggravated the evil. Eor Galerius in the East
was more implacable than Diocletian in his hatred of Christianity; and
Maxentius in the "West, driven to stand on the defensive against the
rising ambition of the young Constantine, purchased the support of his pagan
subjects by persecution of the Christians, whom they detested. It is no wonder
that throughout the Empire the churches began to turn their eyes with hope
towards West and Gaul, for the enemies of Christianity were the enemies of
Constantine. His mother Helena, they may well have remembered, was a Christian,
and his father, Constantine, had at least not wholly yielded to the inhuman
policy of Diocletian and Galerius. To him, therefore, they naturally began to
look as a possible protector.
Toleration
under Galerius and Constantine.—
Meanwhile
persecution, which had thinned the numbers and fallen heavily on the leading
members of the Christian body, had not dimmed the faith, nor blunted the devotion
of the mass of believers. And now they were about to enjoy a well-deserved
triumph. Galerius, in the 18th year of his reign, was attacked, like Herod the
Great and Philip II. of Spain, by a loathsome and agonising disease. From his
dying bed he published an edict, acknowledging the failure of the severities he
had advised against the Christians, permitting the free exercise of their
religion, and finally imploring their prayers for their suffering Emperor. The
news, of course, spread rapidly. Prison doors were thrown open. Mines gave back
to life and light their labourers. Churches were repaired, and, ere long,
filled with throngs of thankful worshippers. The reaction was complete, when
the victorious Constantine avowed himself a Christian, and by the famous edict
of Milan (a.d. 313) gave to Christians, as tcell as to all others, free
toleration to follow whatever religion they pleased. All buildings and churches
previously confiscated were restored, the Emperor himself giving large sums of
money to build new and rebuild old or ruined churches. He even attempted to
adjust disputes within the Church, was present at synods, and presided at the
first oecumenical council at jSTicsea (a.d. 325). The triumph of Christianity
was still further assured by the rise of the new capital (a.d. 330), which, if
not distinctly Christian, certainly was not pagan. As yet, no doubt, and almost
to the end of the century, the two religions stood side by side, pagan temples
side by side with Christian churches ; yet the great influence of Christianity
can scarcely be doubted, when we know that the amphitheatre of Constantinople
was never from its foundation disgraced by the bloody
spectacle of
gladiators, and that to accommodate the number of Christian worshippers the
Basilicse, or “ Halls of Justice,” in many towns were consecrated to their use.
Christianity
the dominant State Religion— about a.d. 380.—One attempt, and only one, was
made to galvanise the dying paganism into renewed life by the Emperor Julian
(a.d. 361-3); but its ill success served to show how deeply the roots of
Christianity were planted, and that paganism was practically dead. Perhaps no
happier event could have befallen the world than Julian’s death in the heart of
Persia, apparently so unfortunate and ill-timed. Had he lived to persecute it
would have been at the peril of his fame, and success could hardly have been
obtained except by civil war. This, happily, was not to be. In the reign of
Theodosius (a.d. 379-395) Christianity became the recognised State religion,
and it is hardly surprising that in the hour of victory the aggressive side of
the now dominant religion hitherto repressed by force began to show itself, and
the heathen party in the Empire to feel the heavy hand of government as the
Christians had felt it before. Almost the first act of Theodosius was an edict
commanding universal obedience to the Catholic faith; his last edict went far
towards exterminating paganism, by insisting on the destruction of temples and
idols, the alienation of temple revenues, the cessation of priestly privileges,
and by proclaiming the ancient worship a treasonable and capital crime. Thus
the unity of the Empire, which (as we have seen) had been gradually attained by
uniformity of government and law, was further secured by uniformity of
religion. And this unity, was not only in the judgment of early Christian
writers but in reality, a primary condition as well as the most efficacious
means of spreading Christianity. When Gaul, and African, and Italian, and
Egyptian were
all members of one great political body, governed by tbe same laws, using the
same language for legal and political purposes, moved by the same ideas, then,
and not till then, was it possible to include nations so many and diverse
within a common church.
Influence
of Christianity on the Empire?—But the question may possibly here be asked, “
What influence did Christianity exercise on the Empire ? Did not the religion
which converted it to a purer faith and uniform worship, thereby infuse also
some vigour into the decaying body ?” Eor at first sight it seems strauge that
an Empire thus consolidated should have fallen so easy a prey to enemies from
without as it afterwards did. In truth, however, there were, aud for centuries
had been, evils lying at the root of society, which were inveterate from long
standing, and had eaten away the very pith and marrow of Roman probity and
manliness—evils which even Christianity could only cope with in individuals,
and some of which lay entirely out of its province to correct. There were even
some, by contact with which Christian purity and simplicity were seriously
impaired.
Moral
Evils deep-seated when Christianity was introduced.—The lustre of an unbroken
series of foreign conquests for 130 years (b.c. 266-133) dazzled men’s eyes,
and blinded them to the evils which were silently accumulating at home. To
later generations, the period after the fall of Carthage seemed the golden, age
of Eome; in reality (as has been well said) it was the “calm before a
storm." The tide of luxury and immo- -rality which set in from Greece and
the East was beginning to sap and undermine the old discipline and administrative
justice for which Eome had once been famous. Not only had war destroyed the
flower of the population of Italy, but war taxes had raised prices, and
impoverished
the already
thinned middle classes to such a degree that they were either driven into the
towns, or gladly sold their properties and worked as tenants and labourers for
the capitalists who had bought them out. Prisoners of war supplied slaves in
abundance—those “living chattels” who could be bought like cattle, and when no
longer serviceable, be sent off to the slave-market. And the number of slaves
was always increasing, because slave labour was thought to be cheap, while the
number of free farmers was always diminishing. In fifty years (between B.C. 252
and 204) the Eoman citizens capable of bearing arms sank from 298,000 to
214,000; while Gibbon estimates, though the estimate is open to question, that
in the early clays of the empire the slaves numbered as many as the free
citizens and provincials put together. Still, if it be true that the long wars
with Carthage ruined and decimated the population, it is also true that the
Eoman capitalists had their share in reducing the vigour and numbers of the
Italians, by substituting slave labour for free. Latifundia perdidere Itcdiam.
And slave labour not only reduces the slave to the level of a beast, but
demoralises the society which employs it. Slave labour attaches discredit to
free labour, and so raises a false standard of honour in the community, making
idleness respectable. Slavery is the fruitful parent of vice, and directly
fosters the more selfish and brutal side of the slave-owner’s character.
Meanwhile there was rising in Eome itself, and probably in other large places
also, that “ city rabble,” whose cry was, panem et circenses, to pacify whom
the government deranged the commerce of Italy, by importing and selling wheat
below cost price, and to gain whose support candidates for office half ruined
themselves by extravagant gladiatorial shows. The country was left to the
occupation of hordes of slaves and of the villicm,
ROM.
EMP. O
or resident
steward. The cities were filled with absentee landlords,—rich men, able and
willing to purchase luxury, pleasure, office,—and with a mob of artisans,
tradesmen, and bankrupt farmers eager to sell their vote and influence.
"What room was there here for the ancient Roman virtues ] Religion
languished more and more ; education was neg lected ; liberty and independence
ceased to be anything more than names. The conflict was impending which is
"always inevitable when the middle classes vanish,—the conflict between
those who have and those who want, between rich and poor. If we remember,
further, that there was now an instrument ready to the hand of any man who knew
how to use it, in the shape of a standing army, which the military reforms of
Marius had converted into a “ professional machine,” we shall scarcely wonder
that the political virtues vanished amid factions, violence, intrigue, and
riot, and that riot before long passed into open civil war, which desolated
Italy for nearly 100 years. The result was “ the Empire.” Speak as one will of
the evils of despotism (and it is hardly possible to speak too strongly), the
Empire certainly did secure to Italy and the world blessings which at that
period could hardly have been obtained otherwise. Exhausted by internecine
struggles, the Roman world longed for one thing, and that one thing was peace.
Peace and unity were secured to it, at least for a while, by the Empire.
Effect
of Christian Morality.—And now into this vast mass of wealth and oppression on
the one hand, of degradation and misery on the other,—with its outside pomp
and grandeur, and the festering sore of slavery and corruption within,—was
sileutly introduced a little germ, destined by-and-by to grow and overspread
the earth. A little band of despised Jews, disciples of One who had died the
death of a slave, “ undertook (we
may say
almost in the words of Tacitus) to convert an Empire, and did convert it.” The
victory was a slow one, as men measure time, for it took 300 years to gain; and
it was gained by the strange weapons of purity, charity, and moral courage. It
speaks well, however, for human nature that the mere spectacle of these virtues
in men who shrank from the unutterable depravities around them, and were not
ashamed to help the poor and sick, nor afraid to face even death rather than do
what they thought wrong, should have had so great an attraction. Doubtless to
the wretched the good news of a happier life hereafter was enough in itself to
arrest attention, just as the new doctrine of the equal rights and brotherhood
of ail men appealed irresistibly to women and slaves; but the mere proclamation
of future happiness or of natural equality will gain no credence of itself,
unless credit attach to him who proclaims them. It is a question of moral
influence. And it is to the honour of the Christian Church that, in a world
demoralised by sensuality, idleness, and violence, the first apostles and
preachers could insist, and insist successfully, on the sanctity of marriage,
the duty of labour, the wisdom of self-restraint; and that by these means they
should have gathered in converts from north and south, and east and west, until
all the Eoman world was (at least nominally) Christian.
Excellent
Organisation of the Christian Church. —But these means were not all. A society
which is to grow and show signs of vigorous life must have organisation as
well as principles ; and it remains now to sketch the organisation of the early
Church, which enabled it, in the first place, to have a corporate existence of
its own; and, secondly, to wage war against the evil of the world. The earliest
Christian communities were founded by the apostles, in whose absence from time
to time they were
ruled by
presbyters or bishops (for the terms were at first convertible), and below the
presbyters were deacons. 'So it was in the churches of Ephesus and Philippi. At
/ a very early period, however (the apostles and first teachers
being practically missionaries, and so always moving from place to place), we
find in the several churches a single bishop or overseer (e7rio-Ko-os), holding
a position superior to that of the presbyter bishops. It matters little how the
custom arose ; it certainly existed. And originally popular election, in the
widest sense, was the rule for that and other offices. There was at first no
essential distinction between clergy and laity; all alike were members of the
same congregation. But it is easy to see how rapidly a line of demarcation
might arise between the more eminent, zealous, or religious members, and the
rank and file. They were ordained to their office to teach as well as rule;
they admitted new members to the body by the initiatory rite of baptism;
they presided in the administration of the Lord’s supper. It would have been
strange had men in such a position not become a sacred order; equally
strange, in that case, had not the reverence of their fellow-Cliristians and
their own esprit de corps insensibly increased the distance between them
and those to whom they ministered. Thus gradually, from mere force of circumstances,
the presbyters became a priestly caste, bishops became pontiffs, and the
foundations Avere laid of a long series of ecclesiastical usurpations, which
have ever since obscured and troubled Christianity. When once this natural
reverence began to assert itself towards the natural leaders of the society,
there was no limit practically to the lengths to which such reverence might
lead men. Further, the more the churches grew in numbers and influence, the
more difficult and necessary became the duties of their rulers. Men began to be
Christians, not only, as at first,
from
conviction, but from selfish interest, from love of novelty, or because their
parents were Christians. Admission and expulsion, therefore, from the
Christian body became a very responsible duty. In such a body, moreover,
dissensions, perhaps sects, would arise, needing firmness and authority to
repress. Nothing could be more natural than that the Christians of the second
and third centuries should regard their bishops and presbyters with almost
exaggerated reverence, and that the gulf between clergy and laity, rulers and
ruled, became impassable. It is quite in accordance ■with this that the
mode of election began to change. A bishopric was a prize, an object of
ambition ; some members of each church, at least, would be open to pressure or
bribery ; the right of election, therefore, was gradually withdrawn from
congregations and presbyters, and replaced by nomination at the hands of the
Emperor. Again, congregations became united into dioceses, especially in
cities, and the dignity of bishop at once rose in proportion. Thus in Rome, at
the beginning of the fourth century, there were more than forty churches in
subordination to the Bishop of Rome. Or, again, dioceses were united into a
province, under one metropolitan, with suffragan bishops beneath him. Or,
lastly, provinces were united under a single bishop, called Patriarch, standing
but little below the level of the Emperor himself. The difference between the
wealth, rank, and influence of the patriarch of Antioch or Alexandria in the
fourth century, and the comparative obscurity of a bishop of the first century,
will serve as a measure of the way in which the hierarchy of the Church had
developed, and of the extended ideas which had arisen in the interval as to its
sanctity and separateness. Contemporaneously with the rise of metropolitan
bishops, synods began to be convened, at first in the East, and of bishops
only; afterwards, throughout
Christendom
of the whole body of clergy. They met once or twice a year, and the
metropolitan presided. Lastly, there were general councils, meetings of bishops
and clergy from all parts of Christendom,—instrumental beyond anything else in
defining the creed and maintaining the unity of the Church. The first general
council, recognised as oecumenical, was that of Niccea, in a.d. 325, in which
the Emperor Constantine presided. It will enable us to realise the ever
increasing power of the clergy, if we reflect on the position of a heretic or
schismatic who dared to stand aloof. As in the Empire, so in the Church, a
rebel was one who had no place of refuge where the strong arm of authority
could not reach him. And exactly in proportion as the triumphs of oitho- i doxy
over heterodoxy increased, and uniformity of discipline and doctrine grew more
rigid with each triumph, so it became less and less possible to dissent with
impunity.
LSubmission
or excommunication were the only alternatives. A caste or order, wielding such
powers as these, challenged no longer mere respect and reverence as being the
most pious or intelligent members of a congregation, but would claim submission
and implicit obedience as of right, which it had ample power to enforce. The
use of such absolute power, indeed, was perhaps a possibility rather than a fact
in the early centuries of the Church’s history.; but the feelings of both
clergy and laity increasingly tended in that direction from the moment when
first the two orders were separated. And these feelings were further increased
by the pomp, wealth, and dignity which the recognition of Christianity
conferred on the ' officials of the Church, not less than by the charitable \
uses to which they devoted their wealth, and the undoubted austerity and
purity of their lives. Not that ■ the celibacy of the clergy was as yet
insisted on, nor was
any
regulation on the subject enforced during the first three centuries. But it was
(so to speak) “ iu the air/' and was little by little defended, recommended,
urged, and at last, in the teeth of opposition and urgent remonstrance,
peremptorily commanded. And the feeling on this subject worked undoubtedly for
good as well as for evil. If, on the one hand, the enforced celibacy of the
clergy led to evasions, secret marriages, and other customs often denounced
after the middle of the third century, on the other hand it cut a priest free
from the distractions of domestic life; it gave him liberty to devote himself
and his time unfettered to the cause of God (such was the beautiful ideal!); it
secured him a vantage ground in dealing with the most pressing evil of imperial
times, the facility of divorce, and the consequent low tone 011 moral
questions.; ~ y ,i ‘
Christianity
the State Church.—The various - powers of the priesthood were vastly enhanced
when the civil power allied itself to the ecclesiastical, and Church and State
were one. Heresy became a crime, and by Theodosius was declared a capital
offence, punishable by the civil power ; but, as has been well said, “ the
Christian hierarchy bought the privilege of persecution at the price of
Christian independence.” Bishops became officers of State as well as Church;
but unlike civil offices, theirs were gained, for the most part, not by favour
and intrigue, but by ability and activity, and could be discharged without
fear. Moreover, the Church possessed within herself a principle of liberty,
which gradually reacted on the Empire. She professed to be, and was,
independent of any authority upon earth. Indeed, it is difficult to realise
without an effort, the profound effect which such a sight as Athanasius
confronting Constantine, or Ambrose rebuking Theodosius, must have had on
minds blinded by
the passive
submission of generations to the possibility of successful resistance. It
cannot but have increased the respect already inspired by the undoubted virtues
and sacred character of the clergy. And in the West this effect was still
further increased when the court and government migrated to Milan or
Constantinople. The Bishop and clergy of Rome, eclipsed before by the splendour
and consequence of the civil officers around them, and having been (as it had
happened) men for the most part of little mark, rose suddenly to the rank of
great functionaries. The bishop became “ the first Christian in the first city
of the world and as the elections to bishoprics and ecclesiastical offices had
become matters of State; so the election to the Roman bishopric, the greatest
see of the West, became the most important State business of the West. In the
hands of men like Innocent and Leo in the fifth century, and Gregory in the
sixth, this grand power was utilised to advance the supremacy of the See of
Rome over Western Christendom. It may be conceded that the effect on the Church
herself was not wholly good ; that as fashion or indifference, or timidity,
brought in crowds of converts from the palace or the street, human passions and
lower motives—ambition, jealousy, tyranny—began to influence the ever growing
body, and that the simple moral standard of the earlier Church was insensibly
lowered, and in a measure replaced by quite another standard, orthodoxy.
Neither, however, was it wholly bad. For the general tone of society was
raised. Christian virtues were at least made possible to all, and a new and
noble career thrown open to those who would adopt it. Nor, indeed, is it
probable that without this complete and vigorous organisation the Christian
religion could have stood its ground during the succeeding times of disaster
and violence—when it often happened that the
Christian
bishop stood firmly at his post while the Eoman officials fled, and when the
clergy alone seemed undaunted by the surging barbarism around them.
Lastly, it
will aid us to realise the vast benefits which the Christian Church conferred
upon the Eoman Empire, if we attempt to imagine what that Empire would have
been without it—rotten with immorality, and debased by slavery, overrun by
swarms of barbarians, and with no influence at hand, ubiquitous and powerful,
to check brutality, to soften cruelty, to assimilate conflicting races, to
maintain religion, to save civilisation. That and nothing less is the debt of
gratitude which Europe owes to the early Church.
THE
BARBARIANS ON THE FRONTIER.
CENT. IV.
Romans
and Barbarians from the same Stock. —Around the mighty Empire, united and
consolidated by the efforts of 400 years, and it might have seemed invulnerable,
lay, north and east, a vast swarm of barbarous nations, whom pressure from
behind was gradually thrusting up to and over the frontiers. It would have
seemed an insult to have told Aurelius or Decius that the barbarians, against
whom they were defending the Empire, were kinsmen of their own, sprang from the
same ancestors. And yet it would have been strictly true. The greater part of
the inhabitants of the Roman Empire, and nearly all the barbarians who invaded
that Empire, from the Persians in the south-east to Saxons in the northwest,
were, in fact, without knowing it, scions of the same stock. They nearly all
belonged to the Aryan family.
Who
were the Aryans ?—"We have, it is true, no historical proof as to when, or
even where the original Aryans lived before their dispersion from the earliest
home of the race; for they lived before history (even on rocks and monuments)
was written, and they appear to have led a nomad life, in which all desire or
power to write history is unknown. Yet the comparative study of
languages
tends to the conclusion, that in prehistoric times there must have heen such a
people, and that their probable home was in Central Asia, to the east and north
of the Caspian Sea. The evidence of language shows that this people must have
been the progenitors of Hindoos, and Persians, and Greeks, and Italians, and
Germans ; the joint evidence of language, law, and traditional customs shows
that even in primeval times, before they began their wanderings southward and
westward, they were at least partly civilised, and knew how to build, and
plough, and grind corn—that they had family life, and something like government
and religious ideas. The name itself is a Sanskrit word, meaning “ noble,” “ of
good familyit appears in the inscriptions of Darius Hystaspis, who styles
himself an Aryan, as well as in the modern name of Persia, Iran. It can even be
traced with some probability westward, in the track of the Aryan migrations,
though with decreasing frequency, so far as Thrace, the old name of which is
said to have been Arya, and the Vistula, where was a German tribe called Arii.
The theory is that, as this people grew and multiplied, a migration became
necessary, and that successive waves or swarms of population moved southwards
and westwards, relieving the pressure on their brethren whom they left behind
; and that in the course of generations they conquered or peopled Southern and
Western Asia and Europe—conquered if it was already occupied, peopled if it
was empty.
Semitic and
Turanian Races.—There were other races also, with whom at various times and in
different places they came in contact, Semitic and Turanian, and with whom here
and there they combined. The former comprised Phoenicians, Hebrews, and Arabs;
the latter all those scattered peoples, both in Europe and Asia, which were
neither Aryan nor Semitic, such as Basques, Finns,
Lapps, Huns,
Turks, and the like. In Europe, they were driven by the Aryans into the remoter
corners. In Asia, they encircled them with a vast though widely-scattered ring
of populations, which constantly encroached on their grazing and hunting
grounds, and in the end drove them headlong upon the Roman Empire.
Aryan Migrations—Kelts—Teutons—Slaves.—
The Aryan
migrations began before the beginnings of history, and appear to have taken a
twofold direction, southward and westward. Thus separated from the first, and
gradually changed in appearance and customs by the influence of climate and
mixture with other races, the two great branches diverged so far as to lose
almost all vestige of relationship. The southern portion were the forefathers
of the Hindoos and Persians, and occupied little by little Hindostan and all
the country lying between India and the Euphrates; while the western branch
gradually moved into Europe by way of Southern Russia, or the Black Sea, wave
after wave, tribe after tribe, until in the course of perhaps centuries the
whole Continent was occupied by them and their descendants. The first wave of
Aryan emigrants which broke over Europe, and swept before them certain
non-Aryan tribes already settled there, was the Kelts. Of this there can be
little doubt; for Gaul and Britain, and parts of Spain and Italy, were inhabited
by Kelts when authentic history begins; and the records of history describe the
way in which they invaded and conquered, or were themselves conquered,
absorbed, or pushed westwards by later Aryan tribes. Just as the Kelts pushed
on the non-Aryan tribes in front of them, so the second Aryan wave of
Teutons—the forefathers of Germans, and English, and Scandinavians— pressed in
turn upon the Kelts and drove them westwards ; so that partly from this cause,
partly from having
been absorbed
in and transformed by the Eoman Empire, pure Kelts and the Keltic tongue are
now found only in Brittany and parts of Great Britain. And, further, as the
Aryan Kelts had pushed the non-Aryan Basques into a corner of Spain and Gaul,
so the Aryan Teutons in Scandinavia found a non-Aryan population in their way,
the Finns and Lapps, whom they gradually dispossessed and drove to the north.
The last wave of Aryans which moved westwards from Asia was the Slaves and
Lithuanians, who occupied the east and northeast of Europe,—the most numerous
and hitherto least important of all the intruding peoples.
Relations
between Empire and Barbarians— Cent. I.-IY.—The
history of these Aryan nations is the history of Europe, and its most important
section is the history of Eome. For all previous empires were merely prehides
to the Eoman; almost all later kingdoms were outgrowths from it. And of this
marvellous history there is, perhaps, no epoch of deeper interest than that in
which the elder Aryan population, the civilised Christian Empire, was for the
first time brought face to face with the younger and less civilised peoples of
its own family, and forced to fight for bare existence. All along the frontier
of the Bhine and Danube, in the fourth century, lay tribe after tribe of Aryan
wanderers, eager to ravage the fertile lands and pillage the rich inhabitants
of Greece, and Italy, and Gaul; while on the Euphrates another Aryan people,
the Persians, had defeated the old enemies of Eome, the Turanian Parthians, and
founded an empire destined to last for 400 years (a.d. 22G). Already the
pressure in the far north-east of Slaves and Turanians, Huns and Alans, had
driven in Ostrogoths upon Visigoths, and Gepidte upon Quadi and Marcomanni.
Already urged by that pressure, and nothing loth, the Daci had in
Domitian’s
reign (a.d. 81), burst
across the Danube and ravaged Mcesia. The Marcomanni and Quadi, in Aurelius’s
reign, had desolated Rhoetia and ]NToricum (a.d. 167). The new Persian dynasty
of the Sassanidee had signalised its victory over the Parthians (a.d. 226) by aggressions upon Rome,
and a defeat of Alex. Severus (a.d. 232).
The short reign of Decius (a.d. 249-251)
had been one long struggle against Goths, on the Danube and in Mcesia, with
varying success; while Valerian (a.d. 253-260),
whose armies were scarcely able to make head against inroads of Franks in Gaul
and Spain, and Alemanni even in Italy, and Goths in Asia Minor, was himself
defeated and taken prisoner by Sapor the Persian, in a battle near Edessa.
Within fifteen years (a.d. 268-284)
formidable invasions of Goths, Alemanni, Alani, Franks, and Sar- matians, in
Mcesia, Italy, Asia Minor, Gaul, and Illyiicum, bore witness to the growing
weakness of the Empire, and the military energy of the barbarians. The
immediate danger was arrested, though only for a time, by the abilities of
Claudius (a.d. 268),
Aurelian (a.d. 270), and
Probus (a.d. 276); while
the internal reforms of Diocletian and Constantine helped to secure for the
Empire a new, if a short lease of life. From the time of Diocletian (a.d. 285) to the death of
Theodosius (a.d. 395), Rome
preserved her frontiers and her unity intact.
Tribes
lying on Roman Frontiers.—The order of facts in the history of the barbarian
invasions of the Empire depends so much on the position of the barbarians
themselves upon the frontiers, that it will be well to describe exactly their
relative situations along the Danube and Rhine at the end of the fourth
century. Beginning from the Euxine, and running the eye along the line of the
above rivers, there will be seen a bewildering succession of unfamiliar names,
from which, however, seven
stand out as
of prominent importance, viz., Gotlis, Vandals, Burgundians, Franks, Saxons,
Lombards, and Iluns. The first six belong to the Teutonic branch of the Aryan
family ; the seventh to the Ugrian or Finnish branch of the Turanian; and as
the condition of the Gothic and Vandal tribes at the time above mentioned
depended in a great measure on the power of the Huns, it will be well to begin
with the Hunnish Empire, and give a brief sketch of its rise and history.
Huns.—The
vast plain of Europe lying between the Ural Mountains and the Volga, the
Danube, the Rhine, and the Baltic,—the scene of the great movements of the
fourth •and fifth centuries, — was unequally divided between tribes of Teutonic
and tribes of Finnish descent, between Aryans and Turanians. Foremost among the
latter was the confederation of the Huns. It had been seated since the second
century on the Volga and the slopes of the Ural, and probably comprised Turkish
raccs in the East, Finnish raccs in the West, and, dominating all, a great
Mongol tribe. In physiognomy, customs, and character, they differed wholly
(according to contemporary writers) from the Aryans of the West. They lived by
theft, by hunting, by the produce of their flocks. In ferocity they surpassed
any barbarians of whom Roman soldiers had had experience, while to the
civilised eye their ugliness was revolting. Of the habits of civilised life
they were utterly ignorant, even of the use of fire for cooking, and of
covered huts. Their days were spent almost wholly on horseback. Their chief
weapon of offence was bone-tipped arrows. Religion, or form of worship, it is
said, was unknown. Such is the account of Ammianus Marcellinus, written about a.d. 375; and making all allowances
for the passionate language of hatred and fear, it is clear they were a very
terrible foe
to face, with
nothing to lose by defeat but their lives’ and everything to gain by success.
But contact with more civilised tribes modified their customs, if not their
characters, and they quickly learned to build villages and live in huts, and
adopt some of the habits of civilised life. The empire of the confederation
gradually spread. In a.d. 374 the Iluns fell on the Alani, Turanians like themselves,
and destroyed or absorbed them. The next victims were the Goths of Ermanaric’s
Empire. The Ostrogoths were absorbed into the ranks of the victors, the Gepidfe
pushed north, the Visigoths west and south; and by the end of the century the
confederates had established a vast empire reaching from the Volga to the
Theiss, and from the Black Sea nearly to the Baltic,—an empire before which
weaker tribes were forced in upon the territories of the Eoman Empire, and in
the minds of whose leaders was presently developed the ambitious idea of
sharing the world with Eome. We shall see hereafter how in Attila this idea
grew into a dream of universal dominion.
The
Teutonic Races.—The tribes that suffered from the pressure of the Hunnish
confederation were of a different and more civilised type. The sketch of the
Germans given by Tacitus was written with a purpose, and is therefore not
entirely trustworthy; but their salient characteristics described by him and
attested by other writers, are both remarkable and credible. Independent,
chaste, faithful, warlike, hospitable, yet fierce and often cruel, the Teutons
of those days were not very unlike the Teutons of these. They were marked by
blue eyes, light hair, and large frames. In the day of battle, squadrons and
battalions fought side by side, drawn from the same families and clan. They
showed a deep reverence for women (being almost the only barbarians content
with one wife), and a genuine if somewhat mystical religious
feeling.
Tlieir government was popular, for while on minor matters the chiefs
deliberated alone, the whole tribe debated in a body questions of greater
moment. Slaves were treated with far more consideration than in the civilised
Empire, and to strike or bind them was as rare as it was thought dishonourable.
The
Goths.—The first nation that suffered from the encroachments of the Huns was
the Goths, of all the Teutonic tribes the largest and most important. In the
earliest historic times their home appears to have been Scandinavia and the
shores of the Baltic, which they probably abandoned in consequence of
intestine struggles. Erom the shores of the Baltic to the shores of the Euxine
they gradually made their way through the midst of the Slaves, as far as the
valley of the Dnieper, the direction of their wanderings being probably
determined by the position and relative strength of other tribes. At any rate
they settled on the Dnieper, the Ostrogoths to the east, the Visigoths to the
west, and the Gepidee to the north; and there they waxed in power and numbers
until their Empire reached almost to the Baltic, and under Ermanaric included
nearly all South Russia, Lithuania, Courland, Poland, and part of Germany. But
the Empire had been won by force of arms, and was held together by no tie but
force. So when the Huns were invited by the Ptoxolani, a tribe subject to the
Ostrogoths, to come and help them, and the invitation, was accepted, the
Gothic Empire fell to pieces at once. After a few fruitless struggles, the
Ostrogoths submitted, and were incorporated for a while in the Hunnish
Confederation, while the Visigoths fled before the storm to take refuge behind
the Pruth. Even here, however, they did not feel safe. The pagan minority went
off under Atha- naric into the Carpathian Mountains, while at the sugges-
ROM.
EMP. D
tion of
Bishop Ulfilas, who had converted a large part of the nation, the Christian
majority resolved to place the Danube "between themselves and their
dreaded foes, and to offer their services to the Boman Emperor. The offer was
made and refused, unless they would consent to adopt certain definite views
regarding the second person in the Trinity, which owed their origin to Arius, a
Presbyter of Alexandria (about a.d. 320),
and were widely held in the Eastern part of the Empire. Time pressed. The lives
of men and the honour of women were at stake. The concession, it might be
thought, was a small one. So Ulfilas yielded; and the Visigothic nation, now
become Arian, crossed the river with arms in their hands. They crossed as
friends. But the treachery, licentiousness, and avarice of the Boman officials
charged with the duty of receiving and settling them, infuriated the only
half-civilised barbarians, who took a fearful revenge. Falling suddenly on the
defenceless province of Maesia, and ravaging far and near, they defeated and
slew the Emperor Yalens in a pitched battle at Adrianople (a.d. 378), and overran the whole
country between the Euxine, iEgean, and Adriatic for nearly a year. Indeed the
defeat was more fatal to the Empire than Cannae had been to the Bepublic. The
loss from the latter, both of men and prestige, was speedily repaired: while
after Adrianople the Empire was never again wholly freed from barbarians.
Theodosius, it is true, by mingled firmness and diplomacy, succeeded in
confining the Visigoths within definite Kmits, but it was south of the Danube;
and after his death, a very few years of the feeble rule of his sons left
Alaric, or men like Alaric, practically masters of the Empire.
The Vandals.—From
the Goths we pass to the Vandals, divided also into two nations, the Vandali
proper and the Vandali Silingi, though apparently never wholly
separated, as
were the Ostrogoths and Visigoths. Their name in history has suffered a strange
misfortune, having become a synonym for all that is barbarous and destructive
: whereas in reality they are said to have been among the noblest and least
ferocious of the barbarians, given to commerce and agriculture, until in their
case, as in that of the Goths, the perfidy of the Eoman government exasperated
and called out the fiercer elements of the barbarian character. Their earliest
settlement in Europe was apparently between the rivers Elbe and Vistula; from
whence they were dislodged by the Lombards about the Christian era. By the year
a.d. 150 they had wandered
as far south as Bohemia, and probably formed part of the great confederation
which for thirteen years taxed the energy and resources of Aurelius to resist (a.d. 167-180). In the reign of
Probus they were on the Danube (a.d. 276-282)
and the Theiss, but coming in contact with the Visigoths, and being defeated by
them, begged and received permission from Constantine to settle in Pan- nonia.
There they remained for seventy years, and were converted to Christianity, not
moving thence until famine compelled them, like so many others, to join the
great westward migration of 406 into Gaul.
The
Burgundians were like the Vandals in their aptness for
civilised and commercial life; unlike them in that they wandered but
comparatively a little way from their earliest home. About the middle of the
fourth century they were seated on both sides of the Elbe; at the end of it on
the Maim In a.d. 406 they
joined in the migration of the Vandals into Gaul, where they found a permanent
home on the banks of the Ehone and Saone, and about the middle of the century
embraced with eager zeal the religion of the Eomans, whose God alone seemed
able to save them from the terrible Huns.
The
Franks belonged to the Low Dutch branch of the Teutonic races, as it is
called—that is, the branch which occupied the Lowlands of Germany between the
Ehine and the shores of the Baltic. They were in reality a confederation of
eight tribes, the Chauci, Sicambri, Attuarii, Bructeri, Chamavi, Catti, Salii,
and Cherusci, who appear to have taken the name of Franci or “ Freemen” about
the middle of the third century, and to have possessed the greater part of
Westphalia, Hanover, and the Netherlands. Many of these tribes had fought
bravely against Drusus (b.c. 12-9),
and Germanicus (a.d. 15,
16); and the Confederation had maintained a long struggle against the Eoman
Empire in the times of Yalerian (a.d. 256),
Probus (a.d. 277), and
Julian (a.d. 356-9). At the
end of the fourth and beginning of the fifth century they began that movement
towards the west and south, which was the first step in the formation of their
afterwards mighty Empire.
The
Saxons, low Dutch like their neighbours the Franks, occupied for centuries the
country lying between the Ems and the Oder, forming the Eastern frontier of the
Frankish kingdom. Their name still survives in the kingdom of the German Empire
called Saxony, a very different district, it must be remembered, from the
Saxonia of Eoman and Frank times. They were divided into three tribes,
Ostphalians, Westphalians, and Angarians. Lying as they did along the shores of
two seas, and in a barren country of forests, moors, and morasses, but intersected
by large rivers falling into those seas, it is not surprising that they were a
seafaring rather than an agricultural or pastoral people. No shore was safe
from their depredations. In the reign of Yalentinian (a.d. 371), the maritime provinces of Gaul
suffered grievously from their attacks; and scarcely a century later the
withdrawal of
the Eoman
forces in Britain enabled them to find another and larger outlet for their
surplus population, and in company with Angles and other cognate tribes to lay
the first foundations of what was afterwards the kingdom of England.
The
Lombards.—To the East of Franks and Saxons lay a tribe, the Langobardi or
Lombards, whom Tacitus speaks of as scanty in numbers, but of extraordinary
valour. Certainly their influence on the course of history was out of all
proportion to their importance among the German tribes. When first we hear of
them about the time of Augustus, it was-
as with so many other Teutonic tribes in the district between the Elbe and the
Oder, and probably, therefore, allied with or subject to the Saxons. They
gradually moved or were driven southwards, until at the end of the fourth
century they were in the centre of Europe, and at the beginning of the sixth on
the Danube, preparatory to their descent some fifty years later into Italy.
There were,
of course, other tribes and confederations, many and various, lying between the
Volga, the Danube, the Ehine, and the Baltic, at the end of the fourth century,
besides the seven thus briefly described. But few if any were mixed up with
Eoman history in so special a way as these: none produced more remarkable men,
or affected so largely the subsequent course of events: none left such marked
traces of their influence in Italy, Spain, France, and England.
Summary
of First Three Chapters.—Briefly to sum up the contents of the first three
chapters, we see two vast groups of Aryan populations on either side of the
Danube and the Ehine gradually approach, touch, and at last clash with one
another along the whole line of ohose rivers. One group had probably been
settled in
its first
home before a part of the other even began its ■wanderings. One was now
civilised and Christian; the other semi-civilised or barbarous, and for the
most part pagan. One group was bound together in the equalising grasp of a
centralised despotism; the other shifting and mobile as the waves of the sea,
or the sand of the shore, with no bond of cohesion beyond occasionally common
interests and similar customs. At the moment when this history begins, they had
already touched, and at points the frontier had been passed by the barbarians.
The crisis was approaching. And for all men of foresight, who could appreciate
the danger, it must have been an anxious question whether the Empire, with its
vast frontier line, would be able, in spite of centralised power, administrative
unity, and disciplined armies, to make head against the dimly looming swarms of
warriors from behind the Danube, whose numbers seemed to increase with every
year. Nor were they more than vaguely conscious of the fatal weakness within
the Empire, which made the battle, ag far as they were concerned, a lost one
before it began.
CHAPTER
IV.
CHURCH AND
STATE IN CONSTANTINOPLE, EUTROPIUS, AND CHRYSOSTOM.
Death
of Theodosius—a.d. 395.—The
Emperoi Theodosius the Great died on January 17, 395. On his death-bed he
dictated a will, proclaiming a general amnesty, and entrusting the care of his
sons, Arcadius and Honorius, to Stilicho the Yandal, who had married his niece
Serena. Thus passed away the last great Csesar, too soon for the happiness of
the world. After his death the Western Empire went through a series of
misfortunes, till it fell wholly into barbarian hands; while the fate of the
East, if less tragic, was hardly less sad. The successors of Theodosius at
Constantinople were, with few exceptions, mere cyphers in the hands of wives
or favourites; and their history is little but the barren record of intrigues,
by which those favourites won or lost their power. Of this state of things the
first ten years of Arcadius’ reign are an excellent instance; when the greedy
ainbition of a Rufinus or a Eutropius, and the imperiousness of a Eudoxia
threw an empire into confusion, and when, not for the first or last time, the
dauntless selfsacrifice of a priest, such as Chrysostom, was the one ray of
light in the surrounding darkness.
Sons of Theodosius.—The gap which was left in
the political
world by the death of Theodosius might well have seemed irreparable. A man of
energy and experience was replaced by two feeble and ignorant boys, unworthy
sons of a noble father. Arcadius, the elder, who inherited the Eastern Empire,
was only eighteen; Honorius was but eleven. The elder was weakly in body and in
mind—a character both dull and timid, which had been spoiled by the flatteries
of a court. The younger, more attractive, yet capricious and uncertain, was
fiercely jealous of the elder brother, to whom he had been subordinated from
infancy, and for whose slights he longed to take vengeance. Each was ruled by a
will stronger than his own ; Honorius by Stilicho, Arcadius by Eufinus the
Gaul; and the hostility of the Ministers aggravated the jealousy of the
Emperors. The two men were singularly unlike. Both were intelligent and well
educated; but Stilicho possessed the best qualities of the soldier, Eufinus
the worst vices of the diplomatist. Each was ambitious, but in a different way;
Eufinus aimed at power for his own advancement, Stilicho merged his personal
interests in devotion to the State. Though a Vandal by birth, he was a Eoman
at heart, and valued the historic glories of his adopted country far more
deeply than did the degenerate Italians, who despised him. He had the rare
merit of justice, which won for him the dislike of many, the respect of a few.
Eufinus, on the other hand, possessed graces which Stilicho lacked. His wit and
good taste, his versatility and complaisance ensured him a welcome in all
societies, even in the highest; but at the core he was selfish, insincere, and
unscrupulous. Such an one, moreover, makes enemies of men, whom in his upward
course he outstrips, offends, or ruins ; and when Eufinus, blinded by ambition,
sought to marry liis daughter to Arcadius, and to become himself an Emperor’s
colleague,
these enemies combined to ruin him. By a stratagem of Eutropius, to which he
was himself a party, the Emperor was married to Eudoxia the Frank; and Eufinus
was murdered at the very feet of Arcadius during a military review.
Rise
of Eutropius.—The ringleader of these enemies was
Eutropius, the Chamberlain, who stepped into his fallen rival’s place, and for
four years disputed with the Empress the direction of the Emperor and the
Empire. He was the son of slave parents, and born in Armenia. He was himself
more than once sold as a slave; and being turned out of doors by an elegant and
capricious mistress, because he was no longer young, was saved from starvation
by a kind-hearted officer, who enrolled him among the slaves of the palace.
There his intelligence and apparent piety soon attracted observation, especially
that of Theodosius, who ere long attached him to his own person, and often sent
him on confidential embassies. Thus the slave’s fortune was made. But previous
hardships had spoiled his temper and ruined his character. He was greedy,
cunning, bitter; and hated the world that had ill used him. Eor one person, and
one only, had he any tenderness in his heart, and that was his sister.
Allies
of Eutropius.—It is a curious illustration of the difference
of sentiment between East and West, that the custom of having effeminate slaves
about the household, which was regarded with horror in Italy, was thought
proper and fashionable in Constantinople. Hence the rise of Eutropius to be the
Emperor’s Chamberlain and confidante was viewed with disgust in Bome, but in
the East thought worth only a jest or a passing smile. Nor was this all. Not
only was the eunuch’s high position looked on as an amusing' freak of fortune,
rather than e portent, but when he became the minister of Arcadius,
and his rival
Bufinus was dead, then in every household throughout the East there were
numerous members who felt a sort of pride in Eutropius’ elevation, and were
eager to become agents or spies in his interest. TVoe to the master who during
those four years dared in his slave’s presence to hint dissatisfaction with the
course of affairs. It was at once reported at headquarters. In the palace,
indeed,'the chamberlain was wise enough to dissemble, and to gild as far as
possible the imperial fetters, though his power was none the less absolute.
Little by little Arca- dius was isolated from his court, his officers, and even
his wife, until his thoughts and daily life, and very pleasures were dictated
by Eutropius. But the eunuch was not satisfied with supremacy. He knew that he,
too, must have enemies, and that if he would be secure he must be feared—must
have, in short, the means at hand for striking a rapid and decisive blow. His
enemies, therefore, must not be able to escape him, either by flight or by
taking sanctuary in a church; and this reason it was which led to the famous
law of a.d. 397, which caused so much sensation among the clergy.
Right of
Asylum—a.d. 397.—The right of asylum, of taking shelter in a sanctuary from the
pursuit of justice, was a pagan custom, which in the latter days of the
Eepublic had fallen into discredit, owing to its abuse; but with Christianity
it once more revived. Christian churches succeeded to Pagan temples as places
of refuge for criminals, with the difference, that the superior sanctity
attaching to the Christian clergy made the asylum more secure than it had been
before, while the abuses were as great as ever. Debtors, bankrupts, criminals
of all kinds fled for once in their lives to the interior of a church to evade
justice, and so escaped. In September, however, an imperial decree was issued,
inspired by Eutro-
pius, which
practically, though not verbally, withdrew the right, especially from debtors
and “ State criminals and State criminals were defined to be those who conspired,
not only against the Emperor and his family, but also against his ministers and
officers, including, of course, Eutropius. The punishment was death,
confiscation of property, and outlawry of children. "Well might the great
man think himself secure with such a weapon in his hands; and the irony of
fortune was complete, when three years later he sought and found safety for a
while in that very right of asylum which his own law had denied to others !
Chrysostom:
Life at Antioch—a.d. 397-8.—The
next year (a.d. 398)
brought upon the scene another actor whose public life was a perpetual conflict
with both Eutropius and the Empress. This was John of Antioch, the
Golden-Mouthed (Chrysostom), afterwards archbishop of Constantinople. He was at
this time fifty years old. Though a Christian born, he had been a favourite
pupil of the Pagan Libanius, and was so distinguished for his impetuous flow
of ideas and language, that his teacher looked to him as a possible successor.
But the passion of asceticism had arisen in his, as in so many hearts, and led
him to court solitude, first in his home, then in a convent, then in the
desert: and to practise such fasting and watching as permanently injured his
health. From the desert he returned suddenly to Antioch, for he was almost too
conscious of his own powers, and was ordained deacon and priest. Like, yet far
greater than, Savonarola at Florence, he became a distinct “power” in the
state. He drew the wealthy and the educated to listen to him, no less than the
poor and the ignorant,—the sinner no less than the saint. And among these
casual hearers, as it happened, had been Eutropius.
Death
of Nectarius—a.d. 397.—On
September 17, 397, Nectarius died, who for sixteen years had been archbishop
of Constantinople. A fierce struggle at once arose as to his successor, for the
archbishopric was a post of growing importance, involving great influence in
matters of both church and state. The election was in the hands of the people
and clergy of the city, and of the “ Honorati,” who had filled high offices of
state, and the electors were canvassed and unblushingly bribed by the various
candidates and their friends. The clergy were anxious to secure the prize for
one of themselves ; but there was an influence at work, which bade fair to
overpower all resistance, and to seat an outsider on the archiepiscopal
throne. It happened that a number of foreign bishops were assembled at
Constantinople, when Nectarius died. It happened also, that Theophilus,
patriarch of Alexandria, was one of them; and being anxious, for purposes of
his own, to forward the promotion of a certain Isidore, presbyter of
Alexandria, he secured the interest of a majority of the bishops, who claimed
to direct or control the electors in their choice. Isidore was suspected of
being in possession of a highly compromising letter of Theophilus, which he had
written in duplicate during the struggle between the Christian Theodosius and
the Pagan Maximus (a.d. 394), and
given to Isidore to deliver to whichever of the two might be victorious. Theodosius
was victor, and Isidore handed him one of the letters of congratulation; the
other, he said, had been stolen from him, though he was suspected of having
reserved it for his own use in the future. Hence the anxiety of Theophilus to
shut his mouth by a golden bribe; while such an appointment would, at the same
time, present himself in the light of patron of the sec of Constantinople, and
therefore superior to its archbishop; for Theophilus was as ambitious as he
was
unscrupulous, and not more unscrupulous than he was learned and able. Learning,
however, with him was only a means towards gratifying ambition,—abilit}r
a means of evading dangers or realising wishes.
Eutropius
appoints Chrysostom.—But amid all the turmoil of canvassing, one part of the electors,
the people, became weary of the struggle, and resolved that the nomination
should be left unreservedly to the Emperor. Of course, it was Eutropius who
made it. He remembered the wonderful preacher whom he had once heard at
Antioch, and determined that he was the man to be appointed. It was no easy
task, however. Once already he had declined a bishopric; and even if his
scruples were overcome, would Antioch consent to part with him or
Constantinople to receive him? Secrecy and rapidity were alike essential to
success. Orders were accordingly sent to the Count of the East, resident at
Antioch, to secure and despatch Chrysostom at once under safe guard to the
capital. The order was obeyed. Chrysostom was invited by the Count to a
conference outside the city,— was then seized, and committed to a military
escort without a word of explanation, and finally arrived at Constantinople
more like a criminal for trial than an archbishop designate. His arrival was
like the springing of a mine beneath the feet of the bishops and clergy, while
the people applauded the unexpected choice. The bishops, indeed, protested
against this interference with freedom of election,
while Theophilus even refused to ordain Chrysostom. But a whisper from
.Eutropius led him to see matters in a different light, and the episcopal
opposition could be safely disregarded. Chrysostom was ordained by
Theophilus, and enthroned as archbishop on February 2, a.d. 398.
Character
of Chrysostom.—But the character of
the
archbishop was not such as to be an element of peace in the heated political
atmosphere of the capital. "With all his knowledge and genius, his
simplicity and unselfishness, his eloquence and energy, Chrysostom was
imperious and somewhat impracticable,—more apt to drive than to persuade men
to what lie himself thought right. His tenderness for the poor was almost
exaggerated into intolerance of the rich. In such a position as his, it was not
wise to reverse all at once the hospitable customs of his predecessor, or to
cut down as much as possible the expenditure of his household; and certainly it
was not prudent to isolate himself (even at meals) from all society. Not only
did he thereby lose some opportunity of influence for good over the upper
classes, but, in attempting to force his clergy to conform to his example,
forfeited much of their loyalty and attachment to himself. His efforts at
reform were at once despotic and premature. Nor was he sparing of the
frivolities of the court, against which he protested, at first privately and in
writing, then openly and in public. What wonder if courtiers, ladies, clergy,
and the less strict and honourable of all classes, ere long combined against
the self-opinionated churchman, who wished, as it seemed, to set everybody
right, and to reverse all that had been usual under the beloved Nectarius.
Hatred of
Eutropius—a.d. 399.—If
Chrysostom was disliked, he was also respected. But towards Eutropius there
was no feeling, save mingled hatred and contempt ; and in a.d. 399 a variety of circumstances
united against the minister all his isolated enemies, and gave them the
opportunity of striking a blow. He had been so unwise as to restrict still
further the right of asylum; a step which arrayed against him all the clergy,
with Chrysostom at their head. His enemies were overjoyed at the good fortune,
which gave them so firm and power
ful an ally;
still more so, when the Empress, with a woman’s rapid insight, threw her weight
into the scale, made overtures of alliance to the archbishop, and gave proofs
of her sincerity by an excessive though short-lived devotion. Eutropius,
however, was blind to his danger, and even assumed the consulship,—a usurpation
which seemed only ludicrous to the East, but sent a thrill of indignation
throughout the West. It seemed a revolting sacrilege, that a eunuch and a slave
should hold the oldest and grandest historic office of the Eoman world.
Quarrel
between Eutropius and the Empress. —One act of supreme insolence sealed his
fate. Conscious at last of the tide of opposition and hatred rising around him,
he lost the equanimity which had characterised him. Being aware of the Empress’
intrigues with Chrysostom, and meeting her one day accidentally in the palace,
he ventured to upbraid her with ingratitude, and to threaten, that he who had
raised her to the throne could also banish her from it. The barbarian spirit
rose within her. Motioning Eutropius aside, she rushed to her apartments,
caught up her two little daughters in her arms, and hastened to the Emperor’s
presence. For some minutes indignation choked her utterance, while the
children, frightened by their mother’s emotion, filled the palace with cries
and sobs. At last she mastered her passion sufficiently to make the terrified
Arcadius understand what had happened, and the outrage she, his Empress, had
suffered at the hands of a slave! Even the Emperor was roused by' such an
insult. Eutropius was immediately summoned to his presence, and before he had
time to defend himself, or even realise the state of affairs, heard himself
condemned to disgrace and degradation. He was stripped of all his offices, his
property was confiscated, and he was bidden to leave the palace at once.
Eutropius did not deceive him
self as to
the extent of the catastrophe. He knew that this was ruin. He passed rapidly
through the halls and chambers where only an hour before his smile had meant
fortune, and his frown destruction, and leaving the palace by a private door
hastened to the great church, not for distant, pursued, at Eudoxia’s orders, by
some soldiers and palace servants. At the door he stooped, and seizing a
handful of dust placcd it on his head, as a sign of mourning, then rapidly
strode on to the sanctuary, lifted the veil separating it from the body of the
church, and falling on his knees clasped suppliantly one of the pillars supporting
the altar, and there awaited the archbishop’s coming. Outside the sanctuary,
meanwhile, surged to and fro an ever-increasing crowd, while the tramp of
soldiers’ feet and the clash of arms was heard, and presently loud cries for
the archbishop. But Chrysostom was already on the spot, prepared to vindicate
the right which he had supported even against this very Eutropius, that the
sanctity of the Church was sufficient protection for the very greatest
criminal. Seizing him by the hand, he led the trembling minister to the
sacristy, and concealed him there for the moment among the sacred vessels, and
then returned to confront the troops, who were threatening to intrude into the
holy place. “ Bishop,” they cried, as Chrysostom appeared, “ Eutropius is
concealed here, and we have orders to seize him. Deliver him up.” But the man
before them was not so easily daunted. He forbade them to violate the sanctity
of the place; he bared his chest when they ventured to threaten, and dared them
to do their worst; he demanded to be led to the Emperor’s presence. Great was
the amazement in the streets, when Chrysostom was seen escorted by a guard of
soldiers towards the palace,—hardly less great than the exultation in the
amphitheatre, where, at the news of the minister’s
downfall, the
whole audience rose to their feet as one man and demanded the head of
Eutropius.
Interference
of Chrysostom.—The firmness of Chrysostom triumphed over the vacillation of
Areadius. For the moment, at least, he assented to the arclihishop’s demand,
that the sanctity of the church should be respected, and the criminal, however
guilty, be spared; and even the soldiers were persuaded, though not without
difficulty, to obey orders and leave the wretched Eutropius where he was. Thus
a slight respite was gained; the claims of the Church were for a while conceded
; and it was the very man who would have refused those claims who owed his
personal safety to their assertion.
His famous
Sermon.—The next day was Sunday. From daybreak the church was filled with eager
throngs, anxious to hear what the archbishop would say on the all absorbing
topic. Every class of society, all shades of feeling were there represented ;
but there was one feeling shared by all alike, a sincere hatred of Eutropius,
and an overpowering curiosity to see how it would all end. And again, we are
reminded of Savonarola, when we think of Chrysostom mounting the pulpit of the
great church on that Sunday to address the vast multitude below, and to teach
them the meaning of what they saw. Both alike were animated with the idea, that
in their day and through their means, God’s cause was triumphing over the
powers of earth. Both alike thought they coxrld see the finger of God working
by them in the events of which they were a part. All was hushed as the preacher
motioned with his hand for silence. It was the perfect hush, of high-wrought
expectation. But he did not at once break the silence. An impression yet more
profound was in store for that expectant crowd. He would appeal to eye no less
than
ROM.
EllP. E
to ear. A
thrill of deep emotion passed through the vast congregation when the curtain of
the sanctuary was suddenly drawn hack, and Eutropius was seen clinging to the
altar, pale and trembling. Then the archbishop turned to his hearers. “Vanity
of vanities,” he cried, e< all is vanity ! Where now are the
splendours and banquets, the acclamations of the streets, the flatteries of the
amphitheatre1? Where are the false friends, the swarms of
parasites? Gone—gone for ever!” Presently, turning to Eutropius, “ Did I not
tell thee,” he continued, “ that riches had wings ? thou wouldest not believe !
— that friends were false ? thou wouldest not believe ! Thou didst persecute
the Church, and the Church opens her arms to receive thee !” Then he went on to
speak of the contrast between the past and the present, and of all the horrors
of death which were agonising the wretched man’s heart; and, as the climax of
his sermon, touched on that which to him was the central point of interest, the
glory to the Church of protecting so great a criminal, so bitter a foe. Last of
all, he invited his audience to accompany him to the palace, and to join him in
imploring pardon for Eutropius. But in this he overshot the mark, and mistook
his own power over a susceptible but vindictive and passionate audience. The
chamberlain had been too overbearing, unscrupulous, and selfish in his day of
greatness to awaken any active sympathy in his fall.
Condemnation of
Eutropius.—Eutropius remained in sanctuary for some days, and then suddenly
disappeared. It was presently known that he had left the church under a
promise of his life being spared, if he would go quietly on board ship and
allow himself to be conveyed to Cyprus; and, meanwhile, a commission of inquiry
was named, under the presidency of the praetorian prefect, Aurelian, before
which evidence was laid to show
that the
minister had been guilty of high treason, especially in using imperial
insignia during his consulate. The legal punishment was death. At first,
however, Arcadius felt gennine scruples as to authorising the execution of
such a sentence, in face of the promise which alone had drawn Eutropius from
his refuge. But his council were urgent that the promise only extended to
Constantinople itself, not to other parts of the Empire; while Eudoxia pressed
eagerly for the punishment of death, feeling that as long as Eutropius lived
her power was not assured, over either the Empire or her husband. Overpowered
by this joint pressure Arcadius yielded. An imperial decree was shortly
published, deposing Eutropius from all his dignities, confiscating his property
to the treasury, and ordering the demolition of all the statues of him in every
town and village. Finally, a vessel was sent to Cyprus to bring him home for
punishment. He was brought to Chalcedon and there beheaded.
Sequel of his
Downfall.—Arcadius, however, had only exchanged one tyrant for another—the
acute and supple man of the world for an imperious and hot-headed woman.
Eudoxia was now mistress of the situation, surrounded with favourites both
male and female, seeing with their eyes and hearing with their ears. It was not
long before her pride and self-will brought her into conflict with Chrysostom,
and occasioned that famous struggle which involved the whole East in confusion,
and during which the archbishop was twice exiled and twice condemned, St
Sophia was reduced to ashes, and Constantinople was half destroyed. It remains
to trace the history of this conflict between the Empress and the archbishop
in the next chapter.
CHAPTER
V.
CHRYSOSTOM
AND THE EMPRESS EUDOXIA.
Difficulties
of Chrysostom. — After the fall of Eutropius the Eastern Empire was ruled by a
woman. Arcadius—less than thirty, yet prematurely old—was too timid and too
indolent to resist Eudoxia’s superior force of character; and she far too
imperious and ambitious to be content with anything short of absolute power.
There was, perhaps, only one human being whom the Emperor feared not less than
he feared the Empress, and that was the archbishop. Not only was he sincerely
afraid of embroiling himself with the Church generally, but Chrysostom was the
recognised patron of the poor and the lower classes, and on the few occasions
on which he had visited the palace it had been almost without exception to
prefer complaint against the injustice or corruptions of the court, and to
threaten ecclesiastical censures; and on each occasion Arcadius had been
forced to yield. The Empress soon discerned in this bold and eloquent priest a
rival, whose influence might be fatal to her own; and selfish ambition led her
ere long to become the centre of a vast intrigue, whose object was Chrysostom’s
destruction. There was no lack of willing allies, for there were few classes,
save the very poor, whose susceptibilities he did not succeed in offending.
Fashionable ladies, pagans, monks, even priests
and
deaconesses were arrayed against him from one cause or another; and as he was
peculiar in his habits, impetuous, and terribl}r in earnest, there
were plenty of stories, ill-natured or amusing, for the world at large to
spread and discuss, which were carefully told and doubtless improved in the
telling to court circles. Three great ladies in particular were, beside the
Empress, his sworn enemies,—Marsa, Castricia, and Eugraphia,—for he was
merciless to their special foibles. In his passionate tenderness for the poor
he could hardly find words of scorn strong enough to express his contempt for
the luxuries and follies of the rich, and, whether in the drawing-room or the
pulpit, did not mince matters. He almost condescended to personalities. That
wealthy ladies of middle age should take the lead in society, not by alms and
simplicity of life, but by flirtations and intrigues, by rouge and false hair,
and by setting outrageous fashions, seemed to him scandalous; and when he
mounted the amho and fixed his eyes on the ladies’ gallery running round the
nave, and inveighed against the indelicate dresses and ordinary fashions of
high society, it is intelligible that the allusions were relished by the crowd
below, and gave great offence to those whom he all but named. Nor were the
mendicant monks, who thronged the streets of the capital, and degraded the service
of religion by grotesque costumes and unworthy buffooneries, less hostile to
Chrysostom. He had tried to suppress their convents, or to compel the monks to
labour and to adopt a more sedentary life. He had tried, but failed. And as
the attempt exasperated, so the failure encouraged them in their hostility.
The pagan party, meanwhile, watched the struggle with curiosity. Though
indifferent to Eudoxia, yet they disliked the narrowmindedness, as they thought
it, of Chrysostom, and naturally sympathised with the less
formal and
precise views of the court and the fashionable world.
Chrysostom
unpopular with the Clergy.—Nor
was the
archbishop less unpopular among the ministers of the Church itself. From the
first he had set his face like a flint against the luxury, greed, and avarice
of the clergy, and thus raised up a host of enemies among those by whom he was
daily surrounded. And indeed there were vices prevalent among them calling for
the sharpest reform. It was not with Chrysostom as with those prelates of a
later age, 'who fought a long and arduous battle against the marriage of the
clergy, and by sheer exercise of despotic power won a victory over human
weakness. He had, indeed, like them, to face an inveterate custom of long
standing, in defence of which all sorts of feelings were enlisted against him ;
but it was a custom, which, though innocent in its origin and capable of
innocent use, wr,s also open to terrible abuse. It had become the practice
within comparatively recent times for the clergy to introduce into their houses
a “ beloved sister” (dya- 77-771-77), to be an associate in all good works, and
to live with them. P.ut too often in this world “ noblest things find vilest
using;” and what was in theory a beautiful and innocent fashion, suited to a
society whose tone should be too lofty for human passion and weakness, degenerated
in practice into a mere excuse for idleness, worldliness, and sensuality.
Marriage, indeed, was a recognised and honourable estate, which had its
safeguards, as well as temptations; but the relation just described had
temptations without safeguards. If nothing worse, the priest certainly could
not give that undivided attention to clerical duties, which his celibacy
implied that he would. His moral tone was gradually lowered. He would be
tempted (it is Chrysostom’s own accusation) to
■waste
time and energy in tittle-tattle and shopping. He would become enslaved to
petty interests, or need money to support his household, and feel it 110 shame
to lay hands on Church funds to which he had access, or 011 legacies or alms
for the poor. Finally, too often, even before he suspected danger, he would be
surprised by passion and tempted to live in open sin. It was clearly a
dangerous custom. Yet Chrysostom’s attack upon it raised against him a host of
enemies, whose interests were bound up in defeating the projected reform.
Unpopular
with the Rich.—Xor was Chrysostom’s tenderness for the poor a source of
popularity, except among the poor themselves. He held those peculiar views with
regard to the duties and responsibilities attaching to wealth, which were not
more popular with the wealthy then than they are now. He was “ tribune of the
people ” almostas much as “priest.” If he was pained by the sufferings of the
poor, he was not less shocked at the inequalities of society. In his eyes the
selfishness and cowardice of the rich was only equalled by the marvellous
goodness and unselfishness of the poor. It was poverty which had inspired
Elijah with courage to rebuke Ahab, John the Baptist to rebuke Herod, and, as
every one might infer, Chrysostom to rebuke Eudoxia and her luxurious court.
Even his
private habits and most innocent practices were sneered at and misrepresented
by his enemies. The asceticism of his earlier years had produced a permanent
weakness of digestion, which prevented his entering into society; he was often
ill and dared not touch wine ; yet because he always dined alone, for there was
hardly anything which he could eat with impunity, and refused all invitations,
even to the palace, he was accused of indulging in solitary orgies. ISTo man
was more charitable than Chrysostom ; yet his immense charities did not save
him
from the
accusation of stinginess or avarice, because his life was so simple. He founded
hospitals for the sick ; he urged the wealthy to contribute to them; he even desired
that every house should have its vacant room, in which to shelter the poor and
homeless. “ Christ is at your doors,” he says in one of his sermons ; “ open to
Him. You ought to give Him your best chamber, but He only asks for the least
corner. Place Him where you will, in the attic with your servants, in the
cellar, in the stable with your horses. Only take Him in.” And yet the rancour
of his enemies accused him of avarice and gluttony !
The
Friends of Chrysostom.—But it was also a matter of course that a man of so
elevated a character, of such courage and strength of will, should attaehto
himself devoted friends. And the devotion of his friends compensated in some
degree for the general atmosphere of dislike and suspicion in which he lived.
There were some few, indeed, like Serapion, the Egyptian, whose devotion to him
(or, perhaps, to themselves) was greater than their discretion, and who, by
flattery and adroit persuasion, fostered the weaker side—the imperiousness and
obstinacy of the archbishop’s character. But there were others, the salt of the
earth, women as well as men, who clung to him faithfully through evil and good
report, and were the great consolation of his life.
Chrysostom,
indeed, was a man to make both friends and enemies; but his friends loved him “
with a love stronger than death.” He has been compared to a “day in
spring-time, bright and rainy, and glittering through its rain,”—a man with
faults, indeed (and who has not faults V), yet of “ noble earnestness and
singleness of purpose”—“a bright, cheerful, gentle soul .... with a vigour,
elasticity, and sunniness of mind all his own.”1 1 cf.
Newman’s “ Historical Sketches.” “Last Years of St. Chrysostom.’
Intrigues
against Chrysostom—a.d. 401.—The
war between Eudoxia and Chrysostom, which ended in his banishment and death,
began in the year a.d. 401.
An appeal had been made to him in the previous year, while a synod of
twenty-seven Asiatic bishops was sitting, under his presidency, at
Constantinople, to investigate certain charges publicly made against one of the
bishops present, Antoninus of Ephesus. The archbishop was at first unwilling to
interfere ; but the charges were precise and grave, and yielding at last to the
pressure of popular indignation, he called on the accuser, a certain Bishop
Eusebius, to present his proofs before a council to be convened for the
purpose.' Meanwhile Antoninus died, and Ephesus at once became a prey to the
bribery, intrigues, and violence of competing candidates for the bishopric. In
the universal confusion there seemed to the better disposed part of the
population only one means of escape from the evils around them, an appeal to
Chrysostom. Accordingly a letter was dispatched, entreating his presence. On
January 9, a.d. 401, he
started from Constantinople for Ephesus, leaving Severianus, Bishop of Gabala,
to discharge the duties of bishop during his absence. Now this man was a type
of a class especially prevalent at this time,—an adventurer, ambitious and
vain, and open to corruption. He had a good presence, a real gift of eloquence,
a large knowledge of Scripture. He affected a deep admiration for Chrysostom,
but in heart was jealous of his fame, and like many other Asiatics, was eager
to share in the glory and the more substantial advantages, winch this eloquence
had won for him. Here was an ally worth winning indeed by the enemies of
Chrysostom at court; and a little judicious flattery soon won him. His sermons
were pronounced by a fashionable audience superior to Chrysostom’s, and the
Empress even went so
far as to
transgress ordinary custom, and, instead of waiting for tlie archbishop’s
return, to hasten the baptism of her lately born son, afterwards Theodosius
II., and had the ceremony performed by Severianus. But it was no mere ceremony;
the administration of the rite (according to Eastern ideas) conferred on a
priest a kind of spiritual paternity, and bound him to the newly baptized by a
bond that lasted through life. And thus Severianus was no longer a mere foreign
bishop accidentally sojourning in Constantinople, but a prelate attached to the
court and the Empress by a very special tie. For the same reason, also, he was
an enemy of Chrysostom.
There was yet
another ally whom the court party gained during the archbishop’s absence, and
by means even more dubious. Acacius, Bishop of Beroea, a man far advanced in
years and respected wherever he was known, had been a firm friend of
Chrysostom’s, and being in Constantinople on business, was invited to stay at
the episcopal palace. The old man had the failing of many old men, and looked
forward with some complacency to the comforts and luxuries he would find there;
but he reckoned without his host. The archbishop’s asceticism applied to his
friends no less than himself. Simplicity of life was the rule for all alike
within the palace; and Acacius, already piqued by what he thought his friend’s
want of courtesy towards an old man, was easily roused to irritation, and then
dislike, and then hostility, by a dexterous insinuation from the court that
such treatment was not only discourtesy, but studied insult.
Troubles
with the Arians.—Chrysostom returned only to discover the defection of his
supposed friends, and to find that his difficulties were increased. Not only
did his own impetuosity of temper betray him into sarcastic remarks, the drift
of which was obvious, about Jezebel and her
friends, but
lie quarrelled with Severianus, and was then forced into an open, if hollow,
reconciliation. A further unlucky circumstance about this time tended to
increase the prevalent feeling—so fatal when it exists, and so difficult to
eradicate—that Chrysostom was a stubborn and maladroit person, whose presence
always meant failure if not strife. During the reign of the orthodox Theo-
O O
dosius, the
Arians had not been permitted to have churches within the walls of
Constantinople. They had protested, but in vain. Under the more feeble Arcadius,
however, and relying on the “ barbarian” influence then so strongly felt
throughout the East, the Arians hoped to regain at least toleration. At first
they ventured only to assemble in small bodies on Sundays and feast days,
under the various porticoes and in the streets, and so to go to their churches.
Thus gradually arose formal “processions,” unrecognised rather than unobserved.
But while Chrysostom was absent in Asia, Severianus had winked at their growing
boldness, until the weekly procession had developed into something like a
weekly challenge to their antagonists, with chants and litanies sung as they
marched, and had too often degenerated into mere provocation and insult.
Immediately on his return the archbishop called upon the civil powers to stop
the scandal, and when nothing was done, proceeded to organise a
counter-demonstration of the faithful, with, more orthodox litanies and
chants. In effect this was a direct invitation to riot, if not bloodshed.
"When the angry controversialists met in the streets, and a struggle
ensued, and a servant of the Empress was killed and many wounded, and Arcadius
threatened to fine the prasfect heavily if such a scene occurred again, it was
perhaps not just, but it certainly was not strange, that the odium fell upon
Chrysostom. To him, probably more than to any man, the
whole thing
was a grief and a shame; yet he had to suffer for the evil passions of others
and for his own mistake.
The
“Tall Brothers” of the Nitrian Desert.—It might have seemed ill fortune enough
to have succeeded in arousing the enmity of so many and such diverse enemies at
once as the Arian heretics, the heathen party, the foreign bishops in
Constantinople, the monks, and the world of fashion and high life. But beyond
this Chrysostom became presently entangled in the fortunes of the so-called
“Tall Brothers” of Nitria, and again exposed to the intrigues of his old enemy
Theophilus. These four brothers, named respectively Ammonius, Dioscorus,
Euthymius, and Eusebius, were anchorites of great repute for sanctity and
learning, living in the desert of Nitria, between the Nile and the Libyan
mountains. For a long time they had been the glory of the patriarchate of Alexandria
; the eldest had accompanied Athanasius on his exile to Eome and the West; and
Theophilus, ever alive to his own interests, had for a while carefully
cultivated their acquaintance, and even tried to ordain three of them in
succession bishops. But they steadily refused, much to his chagrin, and at last
an obscure quarrel, originating in the avarice of Theophilus and the probity
of the “brothers,” turned the one-sided friendship into bitter hostility. The
patriarch accused the “ brothers” of the heresy of Origenism, of denying the
“personality” of God. They might, indeed, have been well content to be
confounded with a Jerome or an Epiphanius in the anathemas of a Theophilus ;
but a yet graver quarrel ensued, fraught with yet graver consequences. The
enmity of Theophilus could not be satisfied without revenge. In an interview
between them and himself relative to the pardon of a certain Isidore, who had
offended the patriarch, he pretended to have been in
suited, threw
them into prison, sent them in chains to jSTitria, excommunicated them, and
finally, ordered the various convents, with which they were connected, to
destroy at once all their hooks that were in any way tainted with heresy. Spies
were surreptitiously introduced into the monasteries to watch whether the
order =? obeyed; and when obedience was delayed, a pre- rted petition was got
up and presented to Theo- philus, praying him to take action in the matter.
This was all that was wanted. The prefect was requested to lend some troops for
the occasion, at whose head marched the patriarch in person, like a general to
battle. The expedition was timed to reach the scene of action in the darkness
of night, and then ensued what to our ears sounds almost incredible, a
veritable night attack on the unsuspecting convents, which, under pretence of a
search for heretical books, were forcibly entered, pillaged, and in some cases
even burnt to the ground. The monks fled in all directions, and with them the
“brothers,” on whose capture Theophilus was most intent. The rendezvous was to
be the borders of Egypt and Syria. But among 300 who had escaped, age, fatigue,
and misery wrought sad havoc. Only eighty reached the rendezvous safely, whence
after some deliberation they resolved, on the advice of Isidore and the
“brothers,” to repair to Constantinople and lay their appeal before the Emperor
and Chrysostom, never doubting to obtain justice from the former, and from the
latter protection. Out of eighty only fifty reached Constantinople. The
archbishop at once interested himself in their case, and satisfied himself of
their orthodoxy. He promised to call a speedy council, or to obtain their
pardon from the patriarch, meanwhile advising them to keep clear of the
Emperor, and not bring an ecclesiastical matter before a civil judge. As for
him
self he could
not, he said, receive them under his own roof or at his table while still under
excommunication, but they might lodge in the cloisters of the church. The great
alarm of Chrysostom, in fact, was that the unsophisticated monks, in their
indignation or impatience, would carry their matter straight to the Emperor,
and that then the unedifying sight would be seen of the second bishop in the
East placed on his trial before a lay judge. To prevent this it was that he
wrote a letter to Theophilus, conjuring him to pardon the fugitives as a favour
to himself. But Theophilus was a good hater, and the advocacy of Chrysostom
was to him a sufficient reason for continuing his persecution. He returned a
curt answer to the archbishop’s letter, bidding him practically mind his own
business, and shortly afterwards sent an embassy, consisting of a bishop and
four abbots, to request the Emperor to banish from Constantinople certain
fugitive monies, condemned and excommunicated for rebellion, heresy, and magic.
The last word was an artful addition to a false accusation. Magic was “ high
treason,” and regarded with horror, as implying evil intentions towards the
head of the state. It was a crime to be investigated by a special commission,
and punishable with banishment or death. To represent these poor monks as a
band of magicians, therefore, was a master-stroke of policy, and was certain
to arouse against them popular indignation, the suspicion of the Emperor, and
the hostility of all time- servers. The charge was false indeed, and known to
be false; but that made 110 difference. The Patriarch of Alexandria was too great
a man in Constantinople for his words to be slighted ; for Alexandria fed
Constantinople, and a large part of the population of the capital were Egyptians,
engaged in the corn trade—that is, spiritual subjects and political dependants
of the patriarch. To offend the
patriarch
therefore was no light matter. The “ brothers,” indignant at the false charges
brought against them, and the scorn to which they were subjected, and finding
no help in Chrysostom, who recoiled from exposing a brother bishop to a civil
court, resolved at last to appeal to Arcadius. The enemies of Chrysostom
exulted, and strained every nerve to widen the breach, and encourage the exiles
to throw themselves on the mercy of the Emperor, and even more of the Empress.
In short, the “ brothers” became the fashion, and were run after by all the
great people of Constantinople. Presently a meeting was arranged, apparently
accidental, between them and the Empress at a church in the suburbs, at which,
while imploring their prayers and blessing, she promised to use all efforts to
obtain the convocation of a synod and the arraignment of their enemy; nor had
many dajrs passed before a synod was convoked, and Theophilus
summoned to appear.
Intrigues
of Theophilus.—The strategy of Theophilus to escape the danger was admirable.
Two points seemed clear to him,—first, that Chrysostom was probably at the
bottom of the matter; and, secondly, that it would be well to secure an ally
for the impending battle. If possible, therefore, a counterblow must be aimed
at Chrysostom. An ally he secured in Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis. Epiphanius
was a man whom the patriarch had attacked years before as a heretic. He was now
more than eighty years of age, and with advancing years had lost something of
the generous earnestness of earlier days, while a long pre-etninence in the
Church as a doctrinal authority had somewhat impaired the balance of his own
judgment, and his respect for the judgment of others. He was within a little of
being a tyrant, and had all the air of infallibility. On such a vain and simple
nature the patriarch knew well how to play. First, he professed
sorrow at
ever having been misled into Origenism, and expressed gratitude to his friend
through whom he had seen his errors. Next, he suggested that the real question
at issue in the coming council would be the truth or error of Origen’s views,
and urged him, therefore, in concert with his suffragans in Cyprus, to draw up
a statement of the orthodox doctrine thereon, and forward a copy to the
archbishop, who, as a friend of the “ brothers,” was presumably a partner in
their false notions. Could the idea fail to occur to the mind of Epiphanius, so
dexterously insinuated, that the glory might be before him of converting
Chrysostom, as it appeared he had converted Theophilus, and that he might be
able once again to guide, perhaps preside over the decisions of a great
council! And yet the poor old man was only a cat’s- paw. Chrysostom returned a
cold answer to Epipha- nius’ statements of doctrine, and the old man was
irritated. Ilis authority was questioned, and he resolved to go to
Constantinople and recall the archbishop to his duty. But when he arrived, he
was so ill-advised as to make peace impossible, first, by ordaining off-hand a
deacon of whom he knew nothing, and that in another man’s diocese; and,
secondly, by refusing to reside in the palace unless the archbishop would
excommunicate the “brothers” and interdict the writings of Origen. But
Chrysostom steadily refused to anticipate the decision of the pending council,
and so the enmity between them was aggravated. It was not, however, for long.
The excitement of the actual conflict, and an interview with the “brothers,” in
which he discovered that he had in ignorance been wronging them, determined the
aged bishop to abandon a strife to which he was no longer equal, and to turn
his back on the capital. He hastened to set sail, but it was only to die on the
voyage homewards.
Council
of the Oak—a d. 403.—Meantime
Theophilus was on his way to the capital, and was met at Chalcedon by
twenty-eight bishops from various parts of the East summoned to attend the
council in July (a.d. 403).
The Emperor assigned a palace in Pera for his use, and the patriarch lost no
time after his arrival in conciliating or securing the goodwill of the court
ladies by presents of silks and scents. The lower orders were not so easily
won; and indeed so great was the agitation among Chrysostom’s friends, the
artisans and labouring classes, that it was deemed hardly safe to hold the council
in the city, and a suburb of Chalcedon, on the opposite side of the Bosporus,
was fixed upon. Hence the name of the ) “ Council of the Oak.”
There were eighty bishops present at the time in Constantinople, but no more
than forty-five were ever present at the council, the residue remaining with
Chrysostom on the other side. The Patriarch of Alexandria presided.
The first
witness summoned was Chrysostom’s archdeacon, an official who, presiding over
the external administration of the diocese, was supposed to be specially
behind the scenes. This man owed Chrysostom a grudge, and now trumped up a
series of charges against him, which were only serious from the position of the
man who made them. The accusations comprised personal violence, insult,
violation of the canons, theft, immorality; and a citation was presently served
on the archbishop from the council summoning him to appear before them. It ran
as follows :—“ The Holy Synod assembled at the Oak to John. AVe have received a
schedule of accusation against thee, denouncing thee as guilty of an infinity
of crimes. "YV e require thee to appear here before us, and bring with
thee the priests Serapion and Tigrius, for we have need of them.” To this curt
and insolent letter, omitting even
ROM.
EMP. P
the arehhishop’s
title, two answers were at once returned: one from the bishops of Chrysostom’s
party, warning Theophilus not to interfere in another man’s province; the other
from Chrysostom himself, protesting against their place of meeting (which by
every rale should have been the city of Constantinople), but nevertheless
agreeing to appear before them, provided that his personal enemies —the
Patriarch Theophilus, Acacius of Beraea, Antiochus of Ptolemais, and Severianus
of Gabala—were not present. Hereiipon the soi-clisant council despatched two
priests of the church of Constantinople to cite the archbishop once more by
word of mouth. “ Why delayest thou V’ they said; “the council expects thee, and
thou hast to clear thyself, if thou eanst, of the crimes alleged against thee.”
It was a studied insult to cite an archbishop thus by the mouth of two of his
own clergy, and Chrysostom felt it to be such. He immediately returned a verbal
answer by three of his own bishops, protesting against such a step. But the council
was already in a ferment after the receipt of his first reply; and when the
three emissaries appeared and delivered their message, an extraordinary scene
ensued. The reverend fathers rose from their seats and condescended, some to
menaces and insults, some even to violence. One unfortunate ambassador received
a severe blow; another had his clothes torn to ribbons; while the third, yet
more unhappy, was graced with the chain originally intended for the
archbishop’s neck, had he been rash enough to appear, was dragged out of the
church, thrown into a boat, and committed to the more tender mercies of winds
and waves. Twice again was Chrysostom summoned to appear before the council;
and twice he returned the same answer as before. At last, foiled in his efforts
to entice the archbishop over the water, and so to secure his person,
Theophilus re
solved if
possible to enlist tlie Emperor’s feelings in the struggle.
Condemnation
of Chrysostom.—With this idea, an addition was made to the previous charges, to
the effect that the archbishop had publicly insulted the Empress in his
sermons, comparing her to Jezebel and Hero- dias. At its twelfth sitting the
council proceeded to judgment, in the absence of the accused. Eorty-five
bishops were present and voted. Chrysostom was condemned to deposition froin
the archbishopric, of which immediate notice was sent to the metropolitan
elergy; and a full report (relcdio) of the acts of the council and the grounds
of condemnation was dispatched to the Emperors Arcadius and Honorius. The
execution of the sentence was left to the civil power.
Sermon
against the Empress.—Three days passed, and Chrysostom was still in occupation
of his church and palace, notwithstanding that the Imperial assent had been
given to the sentence. All was confusion and indecision in Constantinople. Ever
and anon an Imperial officer appeared at the palace, requiring the archbishop
to prepare to go. The order was always disregarded, and the officer retired.
Meanwhile Arcadius shrank from using force; for vast crowds of people
voluntarily mounted guard night and day round the palace; force would have been
resisted and blood shed. The universal cry was for “ a general council”—a
larger synod to try the cause again. A single rash act brought matters to a crisis.
Scveiianus of Gabala, two days after the condemnation, was bold enough to cross
the water, enter a church, and deliver an address on recent events, commenting
severely on Chrysostom’s pride. The audience rose upon him in such fury that
he had difficulty in escaping. Nor was the archbishop himself less angry,
believing the attack to have
been really
imagined and directed by tlie Empress Eudoxia; and bis anger found relief in a
famous sermon which sealed his fate. After describing the storms and waves
which threatened to engulf him, he bade his hearers not be discouraged, for
that Christ would never forsake His Church. “ And do you know, my brethren,” he
continued, ‘‘why it is they seek my destruction 1 It is because I have no rich
hangings, no grand dinners, no open house. . . . Herodias, too, is here; and
Herodias dances, and demands the head of John! My brethren, it is a time for
tears; for everything is tending to dishonour (aSo&a). Money alone gives
honour and glory. Yet hear what David says, ‘If riches increase, set not your
hearts upon them.’ And who was David ] Was he not a man raised to a king’s
throne—but,” again almost naming Eudoxia (evSo&a), “ he never showed
himself the slave of a woman! 0 woe, woe to women, who close their ears to the
warnings of Heaven, and, drunk not with wine but with avarice and hate,
besiege their husbands with evil counsels.” Deportation of Chrysostom to
Chalcedon.— There was a woman in the palace hard by whose husband was her very
slave, and whose character belied her name, a second Herodias to a second John,
to whose ears these harsh words were carried at once. And at once the blow
fell. The next day an Imperial officer of high grade presented himself, and
ordered the archbishop, in the Emperor’s name, to quit the town immediately.
And this time there was no hesitation. A vessel was ready, and in case of need
a military force at hand. To spare needless bloodshed Chrysostom acquiesced.
Leaving the cloisters by a private door, he lay concealed with a guard until nightfall,
and was then conducted by retired streets to the harbour and placed on board a
vessel, which instantly weighed anchor. The Propontis was crossed, and their
prisoner
landed not far from Chalcedon, -while they returned. But this was to be within
grasp of his enemies. It was still night, and the exile hired a boat, put out
to sea again, and coasting southward to the Gulf of Astacus, landed near the
little town of Praenetus, where a friend of his had a villa, and there
concealed himself.
Riot and
Earthquake in Constantinople.—That was a sad night for Constantinople. Half
alarmed, half indignant, vast crowds flocked to the churches when these events
became known; and when the churches were filled, formed meetings in the streets
and colonnadcs. But there was no violence, only a hushed and foreboding
despondency. And the next day was yet sadder. Thco- philus, flushed with
triumph, crossed from Chalcedon, recommended the various priests, his friends,
to take possession of their respective churches, and himself essayed to force
an entrance into the archiepiscopal basilica. But force was met with force. A
veritable battle ensued. Presently, to make the matter yet worse, soldiers
appeared on the scene. Blood was freely shed. Churches were piled with dead
bodies—were barricaded, besieged, and stormed like fortresses. And as the
excitement rose higher, and bloodshed whetted the thirst for blood, the
massacre became indiscriminate, innocent victims were cut down in the streets,
and even monks were slain and their convents sacked. A day of horror was
followed by a night of terror; for Constantinople was shaken from end to end by
a shock of earthquake, and even the Imperial sleep disturbed. In an agony of
fright at this manifest display of the wrath of Heaven, Eudoxia besought her
husband to recall the archbishop, and with her own hand wrote him a letter
repudiating all share in his banishment.
Chrysostom
Recalled.—Before daybreak a hurried envoy was dispatched, and then a second,
and yet a third,
to deliver
this letter, and to urge Chrysostom to return at once, and save the city from
destruction. He returned, and his progress was one scene of triumph and
rejoicing. Despite his own wishes, the exultant people compelled him to repair
to his own church without delay, and with violent though loving hands lifted
him to the pulpit and implored him to address and bless them. To his adversaries
there remained only flight or concealment. Indeed the council broke up the same
day without finishing its business. Theophilus set out for Alexandria,
Severianus for Gabala; and an Imperial decree, at the instance of Chrysostom,
was signed and issued for a new council.
Statues
of the Empress.—But fear is not as lasting as pride or hate, and with its
causes the Empress’ fear passed o.way. Is'ot so her dislike to her old enemy,
which, ere two months had passed, circumstances fanned again into a furious
flame of hostility and persecution. Whether suggested by her own pride or the
servility of her courtiers, an idea presented itself to the mind of the Empress
as foolish as it was unprecedented. She succeeded in inducing Arcadius to
allow statues of herself to be set up in the empire and adored," as were
those of the Emperor. To the West this seemed simply monstrous, and even to the
East strange, and rather ridiculous. The Emperors were incarnations, so to say,
of the groat .Roman people, and as such, in a sense, divine; but Empresses—what
were they beyond being wives and mothers of Emperors ? Eudoxia, however,
insisted; and Arcadius gave way. Above all, she set store by a silver statue of
herself, erected on a porphyry column, and placed in the centre of the Forum,
where, with the church of St Sophia on one hand, and the senate-house on the
other, the palace beyond, and the busiest street of Constantinople at her
feet, she might seem, as it were, to dominate palace, church,
and city, and
even to inspire the wisdom of the senate. The statue was inaugurated with
rejoicings worthy of the occasion, which lasted for several days. But the
austere soul of Chrysostom was disgusted with the scenes that went on just
outside his church, and with the interruptions of services and sermons caused
by the music and shouting. He complained to the prefect. But the prefect was
too wise a man of the world to offend an Empress needlessly, and referred the
archbishop to Eudoxia. Next day the noise and interruption was even greater,
and Chrysostom deeming it, perhaps not unnaturally, a bravado and provocation,
not only of the prefect, but of the higher powers, ascended the pulpit, and
once more, as so often before, inveighed against all who took part in or
countenanced such doings. His personal allusions were soon the talk of the
town, and duly reported to Eudoxia, who hastened to the palace and demanded
from the Emperor “ vengeance ” on her enemy; and the Emperor, deeply offended,
declared that it was time to put an end to such factious insults ! Once more,
then, the court became the centre of intrigues directed against the archbishop’s
peace and life; once more his old enemies appeared upon the scene, and
insidious suggestions were heard to the effect that the council which
Chrysostom so earnestly desired might, perhaps, by good management turn out to
his ruin. Indeed, all efforts were now directed to this end, that the council
should be held in Constantinople, that is, under the eye and influence of the
court, and that it should not rescind, but repeat and confirm the decisions of
the Council of the Oak. Arca- dius, meanwhile, refused to hold any intercourse
with the archbishop, or even to communicate at his church (as was the
immemorial custom) on Christmas day (a.d.
403). Council of Constantinople—a.d. 404.—The coun
cil assembled
in January a.d. 404, and as
before, fell at once into two parties; and its difficulties began at once. How
could it reconsider the decisions of a former council without going into
details ? How go into details when many of the accusers and witnesses were
dead, or far away? Worst of all, how face the eloquent indignation of
Chrysostom, who would have to be heard? Were these not reasons for temporising
and delay? At this juncture an Egyptian bishop, and we know in whose spirit he
spoke, suggested a preliminary question—was it in their power, or indeed in
that of any ecclesiastical tribunal, to try the archbishop’s case at all ? By
virtue of ecclesiastical law, he was no longer either bishop or priest; and the
speaker proceeded to quote two canons passed at a council held at Antioch in a.d. 341, under the presidency of
the Emperor Constantius, of which the former declared that a bishop deposed by
a council, and taking upon himself to resume his functions without reversal of
sentence, or without being reinstated by his judges, should be ijjso facto
excommunicate; the latter, that a bishop or priest thus excommunicate, and
continuing to excite trouble in the Church, should be dealt with by the secular
power. If, therefore, the canons of Antioch applied to this case, it would seem
that the archbishop, who had been deposed by the Council of the Oak, and had
resumed his position without their authority, was excommunicate thereby, and
not in a position to appeal to another council, being practically out of the
Church. Chrysostom, however, was as well acquainted with Church history as his
enemies, and succeeded in placing them in a disagreeable dilemma. The Council
of Antioch was a council of Arians, presided over by an Arian Emperor, and its
object was the deposition of the orthodox Athanasius ; its canons, therefore,
were Arian and heretical.
With what
grace, then, could an orthodox council appeal to the canons of a heterodox
council, if they cared to preserve their orthodoxy 1 And further, whether
orthodox or heterodox, the canons quoted did not apply to his case, for he had
not been deposed by a genuine council, but by a packed meeting of his private
enemies, who had condemned him unheard, and not even conveyed to him their own
sentence of deposition. The question thus raised by Chrysostom as to the
orthodoxy of the Council of Antioch became at once the general topic of
conversation in public and private circles, and was hotly discussed without
much effect. At length a committee of twelve was nominated—six from each
side—to discuss the question in the Emperor’s presence,—a struggle in which the
spokesman on the archbishop’s side gained a ready victory by inviting his
opponents to declare their faith to be that of the council whose canons they
relied on. They shrank from declaring themselves heretics, and so the
discussion ended.
Chrysostom
forbidden to Leave the Palace.— Meanwhile a straw began to show which way the
tide was turning—the fashionable world began to desert the archbishop’s
sermons; and he felt it acutely, and touched on it severely more than. once.
Nay more, Easter was approaching with its grand series of services and
ceremonies, and more than 3,000 catechumens were awaiting their baptism at the
archbishop’s hands on Easter Eve. The Emperor chose this solemn time to forbid
his entering the church, and ordered him to confine himself to the palace
adjoining. Chrysostom obeyed, but it was with a heavy heart, and with painful
uncertainty as to whether it was his duty to obey. Eurther reflection
convinced him it was not; and he resolved at last to brave consequences, and to
perform in person the duties which were rightly his.
His
Disobedience.—On the morning of Easter Eve the archbishop left his involuntary
prison and proceeded to St. Sophia. The officers in charge of him had strict
orders to use no violence; so that, baffled by his firmness, and unable to
persuade where they could not prevent, they had nothing to do but to hasten to
the palace and report to the Emperor what was happening. Arcadius was both
irritated and alarmed, and at the same time at a loss what to do, for he shrank
from using force at such a season. Bnt his counsellors, especially the Bishops
An- tiochus and Acacius, were at no loss. Careless of consequences, they took
on their own heads the responsibility of his condemnation before the council,
and urged Arcadius to act at once. And so the flood-gates of violence and riot
were once more thrown open. The services at St. Sophia had begun, the
catechumens were succeeding each other in order at the font, when a noise was
heard at the doors, and a body of troops, sword in hand, marched into the
Basilica. The archbishop first was seized and dragged off. The soldiers then
divided, and, so to say, swept the church. Men, women, children, were struck,
knocked down, and even wounded, and the sanctuary itself desecrated. The frightened
crowds fled, and reassembled to conclude their service in the Baths of
Constantius. But there, too, after a short delay, they were followed and
ejected with more bloodshed and greater violence. Even some few, who still
persevered and tried to finish in the country what they had begun in the city,
were tracked, plundered, beaten, and dispersed. And then began a more odious
persecution still. House after house was visited by police in search of “
Joannites,” as Chrysostom’s followers were named; and the prisons were filled
to overflowing with clergy and laity, whose only crime was fidelity and love.
The
Council Ratifies his Condemnation.—The
council in
the meantime, whose existence had been almost overlooked during the last few
days, concluded its business, and, as everybody had foreseen, bowed to the
sinister influences all around, and signified its ratification of the acts of
the Council of the Oak. “ John had been deposed, and having thereupon resumed
his functions without licensc, was ipso facto excommunicate. Let the civil
power therefore now act.” In accordance with this recommendation Chrysostom was
kept a close prisoner in his palace, from Easter to Whitsuntide, preparatory to
sterner measures.
Chrysostom
Appeals to the West.—Despairing of any further justice from his brethren in the
East, he used the interval in composing and dispatching his famous “Appeal to
the West,” and specially to the three great bishops of Italy,—Innocent of Rome,
Venerius of Milan, and Chromatius of Aquileia. It detailed the disorders of the
Church in the East, and described the fearful scenes in St. Sophia, concluding
with an earnest request that his cause might be fairly tried before an
(Ecumenical Council. Four bishops and two deacons were the bearers of these
letters, who would also be able to attest as eye-witnesses the truth of what
was stated. Innocent was profoundly impressed, though his immediate reply was
calm and dignified. He ordered a solemn fast throughout the Roman Church, and
prayers to be offered for the restoration of peace and unity to the East. At
the same time he wrote two letters—one to Theophilus, announcing his intention
of summoning a general council; the other to Chrysostom, sympathising with and
consoling him under his afflictions. More than this, he used his great
influence with Honorius to induce him to espouse Chrysostom’s cause with his
brother Arcadius.
Second
Exile of Chrysostom—a.d. 404.—But
events were marching rapidly at Constantinople. Two attempts were made to
assassinate the archbishop, and barely failed. The population was growing more
and more excited; his enemies more and more earnest to induce Arcadius to act.
Again they undertook to bear the whole responsibility of his deposition. Thus
urged, and perhaps eager to buy a little peace at any price, the Emperor
yielded.
Riot
and Burning of St Sophia.—On the 20th of June a.d.
404,
early in the morning, strong detachments of soldiers took up positions round
the church and the archbishop’s palace, and about mid-day an Imperial officer
presented himself before Chrysostom, and delivered a letter ordering his
immediate departure. Eearing the result of delay or refusal, the archbishop
took a hasty farewell of the bishops and deaconesses, and leaving the church
by the eastern door, while the crowd was expecting him at the western,
surrendered himself to the soldiers there posted. The people, however, became
suspicious. Some ran to the harbour, where they saw the vessel containing
Chrysostom and his few companions already cross ing the Bosporus. Others
penetrated into the church, which, however, they found already occupied by
troops. Blows followed, and cries were heard; while those outside, thinking
some harm was being done to the archbishop, attacked the closed doors and
forced their way in. The soldiers at once used their weapons; oaths and shouts
filled the air, mingled with the groans of wounded and dying. Presently a
fearful storm burst over the city, with an awful darkness that added to the
confusion; and while men’s minds were thus overwrought, and as though the anger
of Heaven were to be yet more clearly manifested, the church itself on a
sudden was discovered to be in flames, which soon mastered the whole building,
and,
fanned by the
gale, swept across the Forum, enveloped and destroyed the senate-house, and
even threatened the Imperial palace. Such were the omens which accompanied the
final departure of the archbishop from Constantinople.
Chrysostom
Conveyed to Cucusus.—He and his companions—two bishops, named Eulysius and
Cyracius, and certain priests of his own church—had been landed at Chalcedon,
and ignorant alike of their own destination and of what had happened in
Constantinople, were proceeding sadly towards ISTicsea, escorted by Praetorian
guards, when they were overtaken by a small body of cavalry soldiers, the
officer of which had orders to bring back the archbishop’s companions on a
charge of complicity in the burning of St. Sophia. Then, for the first time,
the little party learned to their dismay all that had taken place; and then,
for the first time, torn from his friends, Chrysostom was left alone. And so
he set off into exile. His destination, he discovered at last, was Cucusus, a
place lying on the military road from Constantinople to Mesopotamia, and about
120 miles north of Antioch. The three years which he spent there (a.d. 404-407) were
the most glorious, perhaps the happiest of his life. In exile, his faults were
forgotten, his virtues remembered, and he himself had no fears for the future.
He kept up a close connection with his own church of Constantinople and his
many friends within it, and maintained a correspondence with many and distant
provinces.
Removal
to Pityus.—But there were dangers to be faced even there from marauding
Isaurians, and hardships to be undergone from the severities of the climate,—
dangers and hardships which his enemies at home, it seems, hoped might end his
ha teful life. But whensuch was not the case, and he lived on through three
weary
winters, his
enemies petitioned the Emperor, and obtained a “rescript” ordering his
immediate removal to Pityus. This was a town lying at the remotest frontier of
the Iloman Empire, on the shore of the Euxine and at the foot of the Caucasus,
once a large and flourishing place, but at that time rained by the gradual
westward advance of the barbarians, with a surrounding nomad population, and
peopled almost solely by a garrison as barbarous as they. Probably all alike
were pagans. In this wild place it was hoped he might die, and at the least his
eloquent tongue would be silent. But he was not destined ever to reach it. The
two soldiers responsible for his safe conduct took the road from Cucusus
northwards, which would lead through Sebaste to jSTeo- Cassarea, and so to the
coast; and for three months they toiled on, through rain and sunshine, careless
of his sufferings, anxious only to be rid of their burden.
Death at
Comana in Pontus—Sept. 14,
407.— They reached Comana in Pontus, and there fatigue, exposure, and illness
relieved them of their wearisome task, for Chrysostom died on September 14. “
When he got to the shrine of the martyr Basiliscus,” says Palladius, his
biographer, “ he asked for white vestments suitable to the tenor of his past
life, and taking off his clothes of travel, he clad himself in them from head
to foot, being still fasting, and then gave away his old ones to those about
him. Then, having communicated in the symbols of the Lord, he said his
customary words, ‘Glory be to God for all things,’ and having concluded with
his last Amen, he stretched forth those feet of his which had been so beautiful
in their running, whether to convey salvation to the penitent or reproof to the
hardened in
sin And being gathered to his fathers, and
shaking off
this mortal dust, he passed to Christ.”
CHAPTER
VI.
ALARIC AND
THE VISIGOTHS—A D. 396-419.
State
of Italy—a.d. 400.—The
foremost man in the "Western Empire at the beginning of the fifth century
was Stilicho the Vandal. Able and experienced—barbarian by birth and Roman in
feeling—he was better able, perhaps, than any man to understand the needs of
Italy, and to enforce the discipline and forbearance which was so necessary for
peace. Ilis very name was a terror to evildoers, and for a while a guarantee
against invasion. His position was further strengthened by his own marriage to
Serena, the niece of Theodosius, and by the marriage of his daughter Maria to
Honorius. But the difficulties of government were such as might have taxed the
wisdom and energy of even a Constantine or an Augustus. In all the Roman world,
West and East alike, there was the same decay of political principles and
public spirit; but Italy and the West presented special difficulties of their
own besides. If there were still pagans and heretics in the East, they were a
small and powerless minority; while the paganism of Italy, and specially of
Rome, where every street and almost every building were memorials of an
antiquity wholly pagan, was a distinct power and influence of which every
statesman must take account, and a centre round which heretics and Jews, and
all the discontented
members of a
large and divided society migbt rally. It was this party which had revolted
against Theodosius in a.d. 394,
and so nearly defeated him in the battle of Sept. 6, at the foot of the Julian
Alps; it was still hostile to his family. It was at the same time a coalition
of much that was noble and much that was base, of noble senators and
aristocratic philosophers,with fanatics, scoffing unbelievers and plotting
conspirators, who had one common watch word indeed, “ religious liberty,” but
whose real interests were so diverse that their power was limited to simple
opposition. To them, as to so many “ coalitions,” success would have been
fatal. Fronting them stood the great and united Catholic party, headed by the
court and the bishops—a party conscious of its strength, intolerant of
opposition, and disposed to tyrannise in the hour of victory. Between them,
and identified with neither, was the Regent of the West, armed with the amnesty
which on his deathbed Theodosius had charged him to publish, and both able and
willing to enforce it. Nevertheless the peace thus enforced was felt to be
nothing but an armed neutrality, and perhaps was only maintained in consequence
of the disquieting rumours which reached Italy from the north-east; for the
Visigoths were moving, and no one knew precisely where the storm might burst.
It was indeed nothing but the precautions taken by Stilicho, in the summer of
the year a.d. 400, in
raising levies and strengthening fortifications in the north of Italy,
especially Brescia, Aquileia, and Ravenna, that saved the country from the
horrors which it suffered eight years later. For in the autumn Alaric did
actually cross the Alps, but finding everything ready for resistance, returned
to Illy- ricum whence he came.
Alaric the
Visigoth.—The questions at once occur, Who was Alaric ? How did he come to be
in Illyricum ?
and in what
capacity was he there? The Visigoths, as we have seen (chap. iii.), driven
before the advancing Huns, had been compelled to cross the Danube, and after
winning a great victory and defeating a Eoman Emperor (a.d. 378), had been
settled by Theodosius in Moesia. The ascendancy of his character won their
loyalty; and when he left Constantinople in a.d. 394 to engage the insurgent
forces of Arbogastes in Italy, a large body of their best soldiers joined his
army. Among them was #a young chieftain of the family from whom the
Visigoths always chose their kings, hitherto unknown to fame, named Alaric, but
afterwards not the Least famous of those barbarians whom contact with Eome and
Eomans transformed into civilised men. He was still young ; yet he had seen
and taken part in all the tragic events of the twenty previous years—in the
flight before the Huns, in the passage of the Danube, in the battle of
Adrianople, in the ravaging of Thrace and Macedonia. It would have been strange
had his eyes not been opened to the disorganisation of the Empire, and the
secret of its weakness; or to the chance of success for an active and able
adventurer. Political hatred threw in his way the opportunity which otherwise
he might long have waited for. It was a question of property in provinces.
Province of
Eastern Illyricum.—Up to the reign of Theodosius Greece and Macedonia had been
part of the western half of the Empire, as though annexed to Italy, under the
name of Eastern Illyricum, separated from 'Western Illyricum, which lay between
it and Italy, by the river Drinus, a tributary of the Save. It was an unnatural
arrangement; for between Greece and Italy there was community neither of
language nor feeling, while the language and literature of Greece had been
adopted throughout the East. Identity of interest, there-
ROM. EMP. Q
fore, seemed
to mark tliis Illyricum as naturally a province of the East. Moreover, when
the Emperor Gratian summoned Theodosius from Spain to retrieve the disaster of
Adrianople, he had handed over to his special charge this very province then
overrun with victorious Goths, in common with the eastern half of the Empire,
of which he named him Emperor. It was, doubtless, meant as a temporary
arrangement to meet a temporary danger; but by his will Theodosius, in dividing
the Empire between his sons, assigned Eastern Illyricum (Epirus, Macedonia,
Thessaly, and Achaia) to the share of Arcadius, and thus completed its
severance from the West. The assignment was hailed with equal annoyance in
Italy and exultation at Constantinople, and increased the already bitter
feeling existing between the Imperial brothers and their ministers, Stilicho
and Rufinus. There even seemed reason to fear that Honorius or his ministers
might try to regain by force a province whose loss they so much resented.
Accordingly, Rufinus kept urging Arcadius to take military possession of the
province at once, and so anticipate the danger. But this was easier said than
done. A large part of the army of the East was in the hands of Stilicho. Hence
the repeated despatches addressed by Arcadius to Honorius, claiming the return
of these troops. Hence the agitation of both Arcadius and Rufinus when Stilicho
declared his intention of handing them over to Arcadius in person. Hence the
means which they adopted to secure the troops, but to keep Stilicho at a
distance, and the vengeance which the latter took on Rufinus by the hands of
Gainas the Goth. But before all this actually happened, Rufinus had bethought
him of possible allies in the Visigoths of Moesia, and opened communications
with Alaric for that purpose, meanwhile sending on two agents of his own to
replace
tlie
governors of Achaia and Thessaly. Alaric was only too eager to seize the
opportunity for action. Without delay, and massing together his own people, and
some Hunnish and Sarmatian allies from the north of the Danube, he burst
through the pass of Succi in Mount Haiinus, and descended into Thrace, his
advanced guard even appearing before the walls of Constantinople. The whole
province and capital were panic-stricken, and asked in terror what it could
mean. It is hard to realise that it was only a piece of cunning diplomacy,
intended to secure the influence and personal safety of Eufinus. Yet so it was.
Alaric was to approach the capital in warlike guise, and Eufinus to have the
credit of persuading or bribing him to turn away from it. The protection of
Eufinus would thus seem essential to the safety of Arcadius,
Alaric in
IUyricum.—All turned out as arranged; and when Eufinus suggested that the
Visigoths should retire, not to Mcesia, but to Eastern Illyricum, and occupy
that, it was, of course, with the idea of placing a strong barrier between
himself and Stilicho, and it mattered little to him that they treated the
province as a conquered land, and fell to pillaging.
Stilicho
prepares to Attack.—The news created a profound impression in Italy. Not only
was a province which the Italians looked upon as by rights their own oppressed
by barbarians, but it was a province actually touching their frontier. Another
step and Alaric would be in Italy! But Stilicho was alive, not only to this
danger, but to the fact that Alaric in this case was a puppet in the hands of
Eufinus. His resolution, therefore, was soon taken, to carry the war into the
enemy’s country, to drive Alaric out of Greece, and confine him once more to
Mcesia, and then to settle matters with Eufinus in person at Constantinople. No
time was to bo
lost.
Although it was winter, Stilicho crossed the Alps, descended the Ehine to its
mouth, inspected the garrisons, and withdrew such troops from Gaul, and even
from Britain, as he thought might safely he spared. Bitterly was their loss
regretted a few years later when Piets and Scots descended upon Britain, and
Vandals, and Burgundians, and Goths swept through Gaul; hut for the moment,
when he returned with a powerful army at his back, all Italy was exultant, and
the troops of West and East, so lately enemies, fraternised in common devotion
to Stilicho.
Alaric,
meantime, was overrunning Northern Greece and levying requisitions. Prom
Macedonia, which was exhausted, he had repaired to Thessaly, and there Stilicho
came up with him (a.d. 396).
But while the two armies lay confronting each other a letter reached Stilicho
from Arcadius, calling upon him to abandon Illyricum, to leave Alaric alone,
and to send the money and troops belonging to Arcadius at once to
Constantinople. Stilicho, unwilling to injure a son of Theodosius, detached
Gainas with the soldiers and the money for Arcadius, and by his means revenged
himself on Rufinus.
Weakened,
however, by the withdrawal of a large part of his army, Stilicho for the moment
was unable to cope with Alaric, who, breaking up from his intrenched camp,
marched at leisure through Thermopylae and Phocis into Attica. At Athens the
magistrates were politic enough to disarm his hostility by submission, to
humour his superstitious fears of offending their goddess, to flatter his
vanity by splendid entertainments. And thus Athens, her temples, and works of
art escaped the pillage which, we are told, the Christian monks urged upon
Alaric.
Alaric
and Stilicho in Peloponnesus.—Eleusis was not so fortunate. Town and temple
alike were
sacked. The
Isthmus was passed with the connivance of Gerontius, the governor of Achaia
nominated by Kufinus; Corinth was in ashes; and Alaric was in full march upon
Argos and Sparta, when Stilicho, who had returned to Italy after the break-up
of his army to collect reinforcements, was despatched by Honorius once more at
the urgent demand of the Corinthians, and landed in the Peloponnesus. He was
too late to save Corinth; but overtook Alaric in the valley of the Eurotas,
defeated him in a pitched battle, and succeeded eventually in surrounding the
Goths in Mount Erymanthus, north of Olympia and Pisa. But Pisa proved the Capua
of Stilicho and his army. The generals feasted and amused themselves; the
soldiers deserted; so that Alaric found no difficulty in breaking through their
lines, and making his escape by way of Corinth and the Isthmus. Meanwhile, in
pursuance of what was now traditional policy, Eutropius had offered Alaric the
post of “Master-General of Eastern Illyricum,” on condition of his ceasing
hostilities and retiring at once to Epirus. Thus armed with full powers, no
sooner did Alaric find himself on the north side of the Isthmus than he issued
orders as master-general of the province to Stilicho to evacuate it, and
Stilicho, baffled, was forced to acquiesce. But it was a fatal blow to his
reputation. All hope now of reaching Constantinople, and making himself regent
of the two Empires, was at an end. Alaric had gained the right of bidding
Stilicho evacuate Peloponnesus ; and Stilicho, if he refused, would be a “
rebel.” He embarked with precipitation, and landed in Italy. But it was a step
which exposed him to both ridicule and direct attack. In the East he was
* laughed at; in the West he was accused of
“treason.” And there can be no doubt that Alaric’s success did reveal to the
barbarians the extent of their own power.
Revolt
of G-ildo Suppressed.—And now Eutropius, who liad thus cleverly set up a
barrier between Italy and Constantinople, between Stilicho and himself, was not
only dreaming of launching these same Goths upon Italy, but also of further
troubling that unhappy country by involving her in war with Africa—his object
still being, like that of Rufinus, to keep Stilicho so far occupied at home,
that he should have no time-to interfere at Constantinople. Gildo the Moor,
Count of Africa, was secretly encouraged by Eutropius to transfer the
allegiance of the province of Africa from the Western to the Eastern Empire.
Gildo (with ulterior designs of transferring Africa to himself) assented,
seized the corn fleet about to sail for Italy, and threatened to destroy
Carthage if he were attacked. Rome was at once a prey to terror and
indignation, and Stilicho’s energy taxed to the utmost. But the danger was met
without much difficulty; Africa was recovered; Gildo was captured, and
destroyed himself in prison; and the influence of Stilicho in Italy was
increased rather than weakened by the tact and activity which he showed in
meeting the emergency.
Threatened
Invasion of Italy.—Nevertheless there were clearly dangers threatening in the
immediate future greater than any yet faced. Alaric was watching his
opportunity to descend upon Italy, and Eutropius urging him to do so. The
province of Illyricum was nearly exhausted by constant requisitions; while the
political troubles consequent on the fall of Eutropius (a.d. 399) left the court of Constantinople
neither time nor will to trouble itself about the Visigoths. Alaric meanwhile
was as restless as a wild beast in a cage, a prey to opposite feelings. The
grandeur of Stilicho exasperated him. Why was it Stilicho rather than himself !
At
one time he
was possessed with the idea of falling upon Italy, violating the eternal city,
and making himself an awful name by some terrible deed. At another, the majesty
of Eome subdued him, and he yearned to be a Eoman, the foremost of Eomans ! But
beneath all moods there was the same agitation and excitement—an agitation
which spread wherever he went, and in the barbarian world was like fire in
stubble. Disquieting rumours filled the air, and Stilicho was thoroughly
alarmed. Urgent orders were sent to Gaul for reinforcements, the walls of Eome
were repaired, and the fortifications of Eavenna prepared to shelter the
Emperor and his court in case of need. Perhaps the worst sign of all was the
attitude of the Italian population. Courage anil patriotism seemed to have
vanished. The calm despair of the Christians was not so spiritless as the
abject terror of the superstitious, who saw signs and portents everywhere, or
as the craven selfishness of the well-to-do, who withdrew in crowds, anxious
only to be quit of Italy ! Even Honorius was only deterred by the personal
influence of Stilicho from placing the Alps between himself and Alaric, and
from inaugurating a new capital at Arles or Lyons. In the meantime (spring of a.d. 402) disturbances had already
broken out among the barbarian levies in Ehoetia, fomented by Alaric; and the
war there languished during the summer; for Alaric was on the alert, and
Stilicho, whose presence alone could have finished the matter, was afraid to
leave Milan and the Emperor undefended while he crossed the Alps. At last he
had no longer any choice. Leaving Milan strongly garrisoned, he hastened across
the Alps, pacified the province by his mere name and presence, and returned by
forced marches to Italy with strong reinforcements, hoping to arrive before
Alaric had time to hear of his absence. Alaric
had spies in
plenty; and no sooner was he informed of Stilicho’s departure, than he passed
the Julian Alps— passed by the towns of Yenetia and Upper Italy, and made a
rapid dash upon Milan. His hope was to capture Honorius. But rapid as were his
movements, Stilicho was yet faster. The Visigoths had not yet crossed the Adda,
when he descended the southern slopes of the Alps under the cover of night, and
in the thousand watch- fires that gleamed like stars across the plain below
him, read the story of Alaric’s advance and Honorius’s danger. Pushing on with
a small escort, he dashed through the river under a shower of darts from the
enemy’s sentinels (which in the darkness happily missed their aim), and by
morning light was under the walls of Milan. Claudian, his friend and
panegyrist, describes the cries of triumph which welcomed him, and the joy at
the sight of the well-known grey head; for the city was now safe. Alaric
retreated with as much speed as he had come, not halting till he reached
Venetia; while Stilicho provided, as best he could, for the immediate
protection of Italy by conveying the Emperor to the shelter of the impregnable
morasses of Bavenna, and by covering the roads to Eome. But it was impossible
for the Visigoths to remain in Venetia, where the towns were shut against them,
and the country inundated. Eetreat or advance they must— retreat to Illyricum,
or advance where fortune led them!
Battle
ofPollentia—a.d. 403.—In
spite of opposition and warning, Alaric resolved to advance—moved by the
conviction (if we may believe Claudian)1 that he was
1 Non somnia
nobis Nec volucres, sed clara palam vox edita luco est:
“ Rumpe omnes, Alarice, moras : hoc impiger anno Alpibus Italiaj ruptis
penetrabis ad Urbem.”
De lid. Get. v. 544.
destined to
see Eome. He professed to have heard a voice bidding him march without delay.
Breaking up from Yenetia he moved westward, avoiding Milan, and followed at a
short distance by Stilicho. He entered Liguria, crossed the Po, and at last
halted at Pollentia, about twenty-five miles south-west of Turin, whence he
could march either east or west—on Eome if victorious in the coming battle, on
Gaid if defeated. On April 5th, 403, the two armies faced one another, Alaric’s
flanks and rear being protected by a forest, Avhich then lined the banks of the
river Tanarus, and by a little stream strangely named “Urbis,”2
while Stilicho lay between him and Gaul. The next day was Easter Sunday; and,
as though by mutual consent, a suspension of arms seemed to be agreed upon
between the leaders, when on a sudden the silence was broken by shouts and
cries, and fighting was seen to have begun. In Stilicho’s army was a contingent
of Goths, led by a pagan named Saiil; and it appears that, moved either by
contempt for their Christian scruples, or a desire to take vengeance on his renegade
Christian countrymen, or a fear of losing so favourable an opportunity of
attack, Saiil had fallen suddenly on the Visigoths in his front, reckless of
consequences. The battle once begun soon became general, and raged along the
whole line. It was, however, very nearly lost by Stilicho at the outset. For
the leader of a contingent of Alani, whose fidelity was mistrusted by Stilicho,
resenting the doubt, put himself at the head of his men, and led them in a
desperate charge, regardless of orders, on the very centre of the Visigoths. A
furious melee ensued, from which but few escaped, their leader having barely
strength sufficient to present himself before Stilicho, and drop dead at his
feet. It was very magnificent,
2 Pervenit ad fluvium (miri cognominis)
Urbem.—lb. ib. 555.
but it was
not “war.” For Stilicho had the utmost difficulty in restoring the balance of
his line, and in rallying the fugitives from the charge. But the union of
skill and obstinate courage at last won the day, and when the Eoman centre
succeeded in reaching the waggons, containing the wives, children, and booty of
the Goths, the day was practically won; and Alaric retreated along the Tanarus
towards Asta, leaving in the conqueror’s hands his wife and children,—treasures
of gold, and vases and statues, the spoil of Greece, with a crowd of Italian
and Greek prisoners, who were thus restored to liberty. Too wise to drive his
enemy to despair, Stilicho pursued, but offered terms. Alaric agreed to evacuate
Italy, but there was fierce disappointment in his heart, and the pangs of
wounded pride, for he had been defeated by the man of whom in all the world he
was most jealous. Above all, he writhed at the thought of returning in this
guise to Illyricum. He would make one more throw for victory, and so, despite
agreements, he seized Verona as he passed eastward, and prepared to hold it
desperately. But famine and discontent obliged him to give it up, and at last
(after some further fruitless struggles) to cross the Alps once more, and to abandon
Italy for a while.
Inroad
of liadagaisus—a.d. 405.—It
was but a brief respite, however, that was thus Avon from danger. And the next
enemy that threatened Italy was not an Alaric, but Avorse. Alaric was at least
a Christian and semi-civilised. Eadagaisus Avas a pagan, and utter barbarian.
Whatever may have been the cause—Avhether exhaustion of their oavu lands, or
more probably pressure from the Huns in the north-east—there suddenly appeared
in a.d. 405, and surged
over into Italy, a huge wave (so to call it) of men, women, and children,
mostly Vandals?
numbering at
the lowest estimate 200,000 lighting men, and led by a Goth, whose name was
borrowed from a Slavonic deity, Eadegast, the god of war and hospitality. At
the same time, another division of the same army passed along the valley of the
Danube, crossed the Ehine, and precipitated itself upon Gaul. For this sudden
inroad Stilicho was wholly unprepared, and was forced to take shelter behind
the fortifications of Pavia, and watch for an opportunity of attack. Eadagaisus
meanwhile had crossed the Po and the Apennines, and was making straight for
Eome, whose inhabitants he had vowed to sacrifice to his gods ; and Eome
trembled for her safety. But once more Stilicho was equal to the emergency. It
is needless to dwell upon the skill with which he intercepted the vast mass of
human beings on their descent from the hills, and succeeded in enclosing them
with an intrenched camp near Florence, till half their number had fallen by
famine and pestilence, and the residue who surrendered were sold as slaves. It
is more curious to remark, though it is no isolated case in history, that this
victory of courage, patience, and skill was claimed by the Christians as a
manifest interposition of God himself, and as designed to confound their pagan
countrymen at Eome ! And as a matter of fact it became the occasion of an
outburst of fanaticism on both sides and of religious hatred, which involved
even Stilicho himselfi Moderation is always a virtue more praised than valued;
and Stilicho’s moderation as a political, and toleration as a religious ruler,
exposed him to bitter attacks from both Christians and pagans. So unsparing,
persistent, and ingenious, however, were the charges brought against him or
insinuated, that it is difficult to believe he did not partly deserve them,
until we realise the despicable character of the peopie whom it was his
ill-fortune to have to rule, and
who seemed
long ago to have lost all courage and selfrespect. His son Euclierius was
accused of being a pagan; he himself of an intention of placing that son on the
throne of the childless Honorius. His enemies forgot, apparently, that the two
charges were in reality destructive of each other, and that if Eucherius were
a pagan, Christian opposition would prevent his being Emperor. Nevertheless,
the charges were made, and served to alarm alike the court and the Christians.
Nor was this all. The “semi-barbarian” (as Jerome calls Stilicho) was accused
of “ treason,” in having denuded Gaul of her soldiers on purpose to expose her
to the fury of Alani, Suevi, and Vandals, and to be better able in the general
confusion to seize the Empire. And not only was political and religious
feeling thus dexterously irritated by Stilicho’s enemies, but the old jealousy
between Romans and non-Romans, between Italians and barbarians, burst out
afresh, and even threatened to issue in bloodshed, and Stilicho was accused of
a partiality of which he had shown himself incapable, and of showing favour
only to barbarians; and, worse still, barbarians who were Arians and heretics !
Such were the flimsy accusations in which the jealousy of some, the ingratitude
of others, and the fatal fanaticism of all alike found expression. All they
needed was a spokesman and leader; and of course they found one.
Olympius.—Among
the officers of the palace was a man named Olympius, who owed his fortune to
Stilicho- a man whose ambition was veiled by simplicity of life, and his
incapacity by exceeding godliness. He was the trusted agent of bishops
andEmperor, and became the mainspring of the growing conspiracy against
Stilicho. And at this moment it was that the latter
inadvertently gave a handle to his enemies which they were not slow to use,
He had been
struck by the tenacity and boldness shown by Alaric in the late campaign; and,
appalled by the perils of the Empire, he resolved, with Honorius’ consent, to
enlist Alaric as an ally rather than to meet him as a foe, and either to
entrust him with the reconquest of Gaul, or to recover Ulyricum by making him
governor in Honorius’ name. Accordingly he opened negotiations, and a meeting
was arranged in Epirus. At the last moment, however, when on the eve of
starting, a peremptory order from Honorius forbade his leaving Italy—at whose
instance is obvious. Patriotic feeling (so called) was strongly roused by the
rumour of these negotiations. One more false step completed his ruin.
Murder of
Stilicho.—On the death of Arcadius in a.d.
408, Honorius resolved to visit Constantinople, and set in order the
affairs of the Eastern Empire on behalf of the infant Theodosius. In view of
the difficulty and expense of so long a journey, Stilicho strongly urged
Honorius to stay in Italy, and offered to go himself in his place. Here was an
opening little expected. “ See.” said his enemies, “ the ambition of the man!
"Will it not be easy at Constantinople to make away with the helpless
Theodosius 1 And then, as Emperor of the East, with Alaric as ally and
lieutenant, perhaps he may return to conquer the West.” The terror of Honorius,
thus artfully excited, was increased by a military riot which broke out during
his presence at Pavia, and in which high functionaries, courtiers, generals
alike were massacred. Olympius seized the opportunity, and secured Honorius’
signature to an order for the death of Stilicho. The regent was warned of his
danger, but could hardly bring himself to believe in such treachery, although,
after a night attack upon his camp, in which he barely escaped, he judged it
prudent to retire to Ravenna and take sane-
tuary in a
church. From thence, like Eutropius, he was lured by false promises. The
officer in command of the troops sent to arrest him assured Stilicho that he
was only charged to take good care of him; but no sooner did the regent leave the
church than the officer drew forth a second despatch, which he read aloud in
the hearing of all, ordering the immediate execution of the “ public euemy,
Stilicho the patrician.” Friends, clients, soldiers closed round him at once as
one man, and prepared to defend him; but as noble in death as he had been in
life, this “ last of the Romans ” refused to save his own life at the expense
of others, and, kneeling down on the spot where he was, gave his neck to the
sword of the executioner (August, a.d.
408).
It is
difficult to think with patience of such an ending of a really great life; that
the man who gave peace to Italy, and restored honour to her senate and glory to
her arms, and twice saved Rome from capture, should have been deliberately
murdered by those who owed him so much. It was a fitting retribution that in
one day 30,000 brave men, who under his auspices had fought and bled for Rome,
marched off to join Alaric in Ulyricum, and that three months afterwards Alaric
was at the gates of Rome.
Reaction
in Italy.—Then followed the hateful animosities of a time of “ reaction,” when
it is thought “policy” to seize the utmost advantage of a brief superiority.
Stilicho’s murder was followed by that of the wives and children of his
barbarian soldiers, kept as hostages in the towns of Italy. Serena fled to
Rome. Eucherius, her son, was there beheaded before her eyes ; and her daughter
Thermantia, whom Honorius had married after Maria’s death, was repudiated and
sent to her mother. A widespread confiscation followed of the property of his
friends and
(as his enemies called them) “satellites,” even the poet Claudian being
involved in the persecution and reduced to penury. Religious animosity again
blazed out, now the strong hand was removed, and Catholic bishops and fathers
acquiesced in a “ persecution ” which tended to unity. Nor did a spurious and
exclusive “patriotism” forget to avail itself of so useful a handle as this
religious bigotry. Non-Catholic officers—that is, nearly all the
barbarians—were forbidden to appear at court in the military belt which was
their badge of office ; and when they resigned rather than submit to such a
slight, Romans and Italians stepped with light hearts into their places. But
the effect of all this was fatal— disorganisation, fear, and enmity, in the
face of dangers more terrible than any which had yet threatened Italy.
Alaric
Marches on Rome—a.d. 408.—Alaric
had been joined by thousands of veteran barbarians, whose best feelings had
been outraged by the slaughter of their wives and children. These men clamoured
for revenge. His army was further strengthened by large reinforcements from the
Danube. He Avas in a position, therefore, to influence the politics of the
Empire, whose ally he claimed to be; and a man of his ability and ambition
could not fail to see how great was the opportunity. His demands were moderate,
extending only to the payment of expenses incurred in preparation for the
campaign proposed by Stilicho in Gaul or Greece. But this foolish court, wrapt
up in petty party questions, which had lost its best troops and offended its
best generals, mistook his modesty for weakness, and ignored his demands; and
when the offended king revenged himself in his own way and appeared suddenly
in Italy, it was helpless; and, while covering Ravenna with troops, left Italy
and Rome to their fate. Aquileia, Altinum, Cremona being passed and the Po
crossed,
Alaric vainly offered battle to tlie Imperial troop3 at Ravenna; and after
ravaging the coast of the Adriatic as far as Picenum, struck up into the
Apennines, and following the Elaminian Way, arrived without opposition beneath
the walls of Rome.
First Siege
of Rome.—It was more than GOO years since a foreign enemy had been there, and
Hannibal had advanced so far only to retreat. It is hardly strange that Alaric,
as he approached the sacred city, should have been torn by conflicting
feelings, and even have doubted whether to spare or to destroy. To the city
itself his sudden appearance was like the falling of a thunderbolt in a clear
sky. So utter was the disorganisation throughout Italy, so indolent and
careless the Government, that the Romans knew nothing of an invasion of the
Yisigoths till the fugitives told of their approach, and could only account
for their unopposed advance by the supposition of “ treason.” A victim was
demanded, and found in the hapless Serena, who was accused, found guilty, and
strangled. But' neither god nor demon was propitiated by the sacrifice, and the
blockade continued. Ere long scarcity became absolute famine, and famine was
followed by pestilence. At last, abandoned by the Imperial Government, the
Senate resolved to throw themselves on the clemency of the Gothic leader
whoever he might be—for even of this they were ignorant. Two ambassadors were
despatched with orders to say that the Romans wished indeed for peace, but were
ready for war,—an innumerable multitude ready armed. “ So much the better,”
broke in Alaric, with a laugh; “the thicker the hay, the easier it is mown.” As
for conditions of peace, he demanded all the gold, silver, movables, and
foreign slaves to be found in Rome. “And what then, 0 king,” asked one of the
amazed ambassadors, “ wilt thou leave us for ourselves?”
“ Your
lives,” he answered. The discovery that it was Alaric before the walls
redoubled the terror of both Senate and people. A second embassy was sent
without delay to obtain, if possible, less rigorous terms; and Alaric at last
consented to accept 5,000 Eb of gold, 30,000 5> of silver, 4,000 silken
robes, 3,000 purple cloths, 3,000 Bb of spices. It was the last drop in the cup
of Eome’s misery, half pagan as she was, that to raise this sum it was necessary
to strip the temples and the statues of the gods, and even to melt down the
statue of “ Yirtus.” Well might the pagan historian say, “ All was over.”
Negotiations
for Peace.—The withdrawal of Alaric from Eome was followed by
protracted negotiations for peace, in which, as before, his real or studied
moderation only invited insult from the contemptible favourites of Honorius.
His demands were limited to the office of master-general of the West, an annual
subsidy of corn and money, and a kingdom to be carved out of the provinces of
Dalmatia, Noricum, and Yenetia; and three senators were sent at his request to
Eavenna from Eome to conclude the treaty. One of them was named Priscus
Attalus, an Ionian by birth, and afterwards for a short time Emperor. Affable,
brilliant, eloquent, yet unstable, ambitious, and spoiled by success—a
freethinker and a master of erotic poetry—this man was no bad type of the
noblemen of the day. The court party at Eavenna entertained the ambassadors,
ridiculed their fears, and finally sent them away empty. Not long afterwards a
second embassy was sent for the same purpose, one member of which was Pope Innocent.
Meanwhile a chamber revolution at Eavenna had replaced Olympius by a certain
Jovius as chief favourite. This man was personally acquainted with Alaric, and
trusted to being able to arrange matters in a personal interview. They met at
ROM.
EMP. U
Ariminum.
Alaric demanded, as before, tlie master- generalship, and Jovius pressed
Honorius to bestow it. The Imperial answer was brief, but to the point. Jovius,
as prsefect, might arrange as he pleased about pensions and supplies, but that
neither to Alaric nor to any of his race should ever be given any military
function or dignity whatsoever. Alaric’s answer was equally pithy. The “ route”
was given for Eome.
Second Siege
of Rome—a.d. 409.—This
time, however, instead of assaulting the capital he seized the “ Port” of
Ostia, the granary of Eome—a magnificent harbour with three great basins, the
work of the Emperor Claudius, to which the corn of Africa was brought, and
stored ready for transport in barges up the Tiber. Master of Ostia, he was
master of Eome; for without Ostia Eome must starve. The Senate obeyed Alaric’s
instructions, and elected the prefect Attalus Emperor in the room of Honorius;
and the new Emperor at once named Alaric master-general of the armies of the
West. The nominee of the Senate was accepted without difficulty in the greater
part of Italy. But the elevation of Attalus to the Empire was as degrading to
the West as that of Eutropius to the consulate had been to the East; and ere
long his evident incapacity made his cause so hopeless, that lie was thrown
over by his patron, publicly despoiled of the Imperial insignia, and
contemptuously allowed to retire into private life. His purple and diadem were
sent by Alaric as a pledge of reconciliation and friendship to Honorius. And
now it might have seemed that the last real obstacle to peace was removed, and
that Italy would now have rest. But while negotiations were still pending with
the court of Eavenna, Alaric learned that a personal enemy of his own, Sarus
the Goth, who but a few days before had attacked his escort and nearly
succeeded in
seizing himself, was closeted with Honorius. The inference to Alaric seemed
obvious that a plot was on foot of which he was the object, for the experience
of the last five years had made him suspicious. Infuriated at this last proof
of Imperial perfidy he hesitated no longer. Once more the Visigoths were
marching upon Eome, and the fate of Eome was sealed.
Third Siege
and Sack of Rome—a.d. 410.—
Senate and people alike knew now that there was no hope save in themselves, And
for a while behind the shelter of Aurelian’s walls they stoutly resisted all
attacks; but famine is a foe whom none can resist, and a pitiless blockade
brought famine and pestilence in its train. The suffering was awful. At last,
on the night of August 24, by some unknown hand, the Porta Salaria was opened
from within, and the Goths marched in with braying trumpets and savage shouts.
The adjoining houses were fired at once, and the flames told the secret to the
startled city. It is said that as Alaric passed the gate an inward terror
troubled him; for to him, like many another barbarian, the name of “ Eome” had
been a fascination,—Eome, the capital of the world, the city of the apostles.
He gave strict orders, therefore, whatever else was done, to spare the churches
of St. Peter and St. Paul. The flames meanwhile marched as fast or faster than
the Goths, and often parents and children had much ado to escape in time from
their houses into the streets. And in the streets was a foe hardly less cruel
than the fire, already drunk with lust and wine. Children and eiders, women and
men, poor and rich, all fared alike. As if to add to the horror of the scene, a
terrific storm burst over the capital, and the lightning flash which revealed
the surging crowd below, struck house, or temple, or statue, strewing the very
Forum with ruins, and seeming to presage to the aiirighted
pagans the
departure of the gods themselves. Amid the awful terrors of that
night—violence, rapine, and murder —two places of refuge alone gave effectual
protection to the fleeing crowds, the two churches named above, which were
thronged with ever - increasing numbers, — even pagans io their extremity
bartering honour for safety, and assuming for the nonce the guise of Christians.
But indeed the sack of Eome was the extinction of paganism, whose centre and
focus was thus destroyed. The estates of the Eoman patricians were desolated;
whole families were carried into exile; many of the old ancestral houses
disappeared for ever; and the coasts of Italy, Africa, and the East swarmed
with the fugitives. But Christian Eome rose on the ruins of pagan Eome; and
Alaric was an unwitting instrument in the elevation of the Bishop of Eome to
power. Henceforth beyond dispute the greatest man in Eome was the Pope.
Death of
Alaric — a.d. 410.—For
three days and nights the sack of the city lasted. Then the Goths marched
southward, and ravaged Campania, Lucania, and Calabria. The sight of Ehegium in
flames might even warn the Sicilians of what they had to expect. But if (as is
said) Alaric really contemplated the conquest of Sicily as a step towards the
conquest of Carthage, his wishes were effectually prevented by the destruction
of his fleet of transports in a sudden storm, and by his own premature death,
the cause of which is unknown. He was honoured by the Goths with a worthy
burial. Fearfid lest vengeance should be wreaked on his remains if the place
of his burial were known, they diverted the little river Basentinus from its
course; built in its bed a royal sepulchre, filled with treasures and spoils
from Eome; placed therein the dead hero; and after turning the river into its
old course, slew the captives who had per
formed the
work. A worthy end of a life so strange and wilful!
Succeeded
by Ataulf and Wallia.—After his death the Yisigoths chose Ataulf his
brother-in-law as king, who married Placidia, the daughter of Theodosius by his
second wife Galla. He entered into an engagement with Honorius to carry out
what had been proposed before, and led his people over the Alps into Gaul and
Spain to fight the Vandals and Alani, who (since a.d. 406) had overrun those provinces. Ataulf was
assassinated at Barcelona in a.d. 415;
but his work was carried on by his successor, Wallia, under whose auspices the
Visigoths were settled in Aquitaine (a.d.
419), their final home, and the royal residence fixed at Toulouse.
They were a new and powerful influence in the Eoman province of Gaul, aDd
largely affected its subsequent history. X
^
* ii
GENSERIC AND
THE VANDALS—A.D. 423-533.
Events
following the Death of Honorius— a.d. 423.—Honorius
died in a.d. 423. The
fifty-three years which elapsed between his death and the destruction of
Italian independence were years full of trouble and disgrace. Italy was
nominally ruled by a succession of cyphers, puppets in the hands of men
stronger than themselves. Moesia, Thrace, Illyricum, Gaul, and even Northern
Italy, were overrun by the Huns. Africa was conquered by the Vandals. Rome was
twice pillaged. It was a time of blind confusion, when law meant the will of
the strongest, and every man’s hand was against his neighbour. The first part
of this chapter will be devoted to' giving a brief sketch of Italian history
during these years, in order to show clearly the crippled state of the Empire,
which had to sustain a desperate struggle with Genseric in the south and with
Attila in the north' almost at the same time. In the latter part will be
narrated the attack of Genseric on Rome.
Valentinian
III.—a.d. 423-455.—Honorius was succeeded
by Valentinian III., a child of six years old, the son of his half-sister
Placidia, who became regent. Placidia had had a wide experience of life.
Married to Atiiulf the Visigoth, whom she accompanied to Gaul and
Spain, slae
returned after his murder to Italy, and married Constantius, by whom she became
the mother of Honoria and Yalentinian. On his death (a.d. 421), and in consequence of a quarrel with
Honorius, she withdrew to Constantinople, where the kind conduct of Theodosius
II. (a.d. 408-450)
doubtless induced her to think of the marriage afterwards arranged between
Yalentinian and
O O
Eudoxia.
Moreover, Western Illyricum was ceded to the Eastern Empire, in acknowledgment
of her courteous reception and of the aid given her in securing her son’s
position. A woman in power, however, has always a difficult place to till; and
Placidia was no exception to the rule. She was jealous of all rivals, and
studiously asserted her own supremacy at her son’s court, even when he was
nominally Emperor. Nor was her task rendered more easy by the mutual jealousy
of Aetius and Boniface, the foremost soldiers of the day. The latter had proved
his fidelity; the former had shown himself an untrust- Avorthy time-server. Yet
Placidia allowed herself to be cajoled by Aetius into the belief that Boniface
was a dangerous conspirator. She ordered him to return from Africa, while at
the same time Aetius persuaded him that to obey orders and leave Africa was
equivalent to a sentence of death. Fearing the consequences of disobedience,
Boniface looked round for an ally, and seemed to find one in Genseric the
Yandal, ruler of Spain. It was a fatal alliance, fraught with bitter results to
himself, the province, and the capital; and it indirectly precipitated the
attack of Attila upon Gaul. From this last evil, indeed, Italy and the Emperor
were saved by the courage of Pope Leo and the tactics of Aetius; yet in his
case; as in Stilicho’s, although the Church claimed for Leo all the glory of
the victory over “the scourge of God,” Yalentinian was none the less jealous of
the real victor’s
reputation.
Aetius was murdered by the Emperor’s own band. Retribution, however, followed
close upon the act, for the Emperor was assassinated by two of Aetius’
domestics at the instigation of his successor on the throne (March 16, 455).
Petronius
Maximus—a.d. 455.—This
successor was Petronius Maximus, a Roman senator, who lived scarcely three
months to enjoy his triumph. He had compelled Eudoxia, Yalentinian’s widow, to
marry him; and she, enraged at the insult, and hating the man who had instigated
her husband’s murder, made secret overtures to Genseric in Africa, and besought
him to set her free. Thus she avenged Yalentinian, it is true, but she ruined
Rome. Maximus was torn to pieces by a street mob, and Rome was sacked.
Last Twenty
Years of the Western Empire —a.d. 455-475.—Of
his eight successors on the Imperial throne, it is hard to say which was least
worthy. Avitus (a.d. 455),
Majorian (a.d. 457),
Severus (a.d. 461),
Anthemius (a.d. 467), Olybrius
(a.d. 472), Glycerius (a.d. 473), Nepos (a.d. 474), and Romulus Augus- tulus
(a.d. 475)—it is a mere
string of names! One name, indeed, there is which does not figure in the
muster-roll of Emperors, yet towers above them all, that of Ricimer. Like almost
all the military men of the fifth century, he was a barbarian. His father was
of the royal family of the Suevi; his mother’s father was that Wallia who had
settled the Visigoths in Aquitaine. And if it seems strange that this man
should have been paramount for some sixteen years, and have actually nominated
three Emperors, and yet not have seized the Empire for himself, we may
remember that during 500 years of Imperial history no barbarian had dared to
sit on the Imperial throne, with the one exception of Maximin the Goth
(a.d. 235), who, nominated Emperor by soldiers in
revolt, was never recognised by the Senate, and never set foot in Italy.
Ricimer has been compared to Sulla—a comparison hardly fair to the former.
Though hard and unscrupulous, he was not cruel in cold blood. Glycerius was
nominated by Gundobald the Burgundian; Anthemius and Nepos were Greeks,
appointed by the Eastern Emperor Leo; Romulus by his father Orestes, who claims
something more than a mere passing notice. In a period rife with adventurers,
no life perhaps presented stranger contrasts than his. He was born at Pettau
in Illyriu,—a man (like Rufinus) supple rather than able, and possessed of more
experience than honesty. While Pannonia was Roman, he was Roman also; when Aetius
permitted its occupation by Huns, he ceased to be Roman, and served Attila
faithfully as secretary. On Attila’s death he repaired to Italy, once more a
Roman, there to spend his share of the pillage of the Empire; and he knew how
to wait upon events. When a hard fate compelled if epos to abandon Auvergne to
the Visigoths, already in possession of Aquitaine and the greater part of
Spain—in other words, to abandon the provinces beyond the Alps, except
Narbonne—Orestes skilfully fomented the general discontent. When Nepos fled
from Italy to escape the vengeance of the army, Orestes made no sign, but
waited patiently till events (as he foresaw) should throw the Imperial power
into his hands. Then he placed his son, a mere boy of thirteen, upon the
throne, the more easily to retain the reins of power himself. But, like many
another, he found it easier to raise than to rule the storm; and the same
military discontent, by which he had raised himself to power, was as fatal to
him as to his predecessor. As their reward for serving him, the army demanded
one- third of the land of Italy; and when Orestes shrank from
bringing
misery so great on an unoffending people, they transferred their allegiance to
a man not less able and much less scrupulous, Odoacer, son of Edecon, the
Herulian. Orestes fell, and with him the independence of Italy.
The
Transition—a.d. 450-500.—The
last fifty years of the fifth century were indeed a strange period—a time of
transition, full of odd contrasts and surprises; when the old forms of government
and of nations were slowly passing away, while the spirit of Imperial Eome, her
language, laws, and thoughts, were slowly modifying the character of her
barbarian conquerors. Amid the general confusion, however, one body of men
beyond all others challenges our admiration, the Christian bishops and clergy
—the only men (not barbarians) who showed courage in danger, the only men who
seem to have had “ideas.” Among so many it will suffice to name Innocent and
Leo of Eome—Augustine of Hippo—Epiphanius of Pavia— Anianus of Orleans—and, not
least, that Severinus who, by the simple exercise of courage, wisdom, and
charity, reduced order out of chaos in JSToricum, and became saint and teacher,
ruler and judge alike of Eomans and barbarians.
The
Vandals.—The history of the Vandals in connection with the Empire is even more
dramatic than that of the Huns. The mere extent of country which from first to
last they traversed is as marvellous as the wanderings of the Arabs in the
seventh century. And the way in which their name and nation vanished in the
sixth century is not less wonderful than the similar fate of the Carthaginians
whose land they had possessed, or of the Ostrogoths in Italy. One province of
Spain alone recalls their name, Andalusia.
Their
Migrations—a.d. 330-429.—In
Chapter III. it was related how the Vandals had gradually worked their way
southwards from the region of the El bo and
Vistula,
until Constantine settled them in Pannonia about a.d. 330. There for seventy years they remained, and
were converted to the Arian form of Christianity; until at last, compelled by
hunger or by pressure from other tribes, they joined the Suevi and Alani in a
sudden descent upon Gaul (a.d. 406),
at the same time that Eadagaisus was threatening Florence and Eome. Their
coming was as that of a swarm of locusts, and resistance was hopeless. From
Mainz and Strasburg to Amiens and Tournay, and thence southward to Aquitaine
and Narbonne, the whole country was swept by them. But in less than three
years, being hard pressed by another Constantine, whom the legions of Britain
had named Emperor, and who was supported by the Frank confederation, they
crossed the Pyrenees into Spain (a.d. 409),
and repeated on Spanish soil the devastations they had already caused in Gaul.
Spain has gone through many a fiery trial, but never a worse one than that of
the opening years of the fifth century. Army after army, enemy after enemy
marched through, fought in, and lived upon the unhappy country. The three
confederate nations divided the land between them,—a division recognised by the
Emperor Honorius in a.d. 412.
But that this was a concession wrung from weakness, and not an honourable
recognition of accomplished facts, is clear from the insincere reservation
accompanying it, that the ordinary legal prescription of thirty years
constituting ownership was not to apply to the case in question ! This was bad;
but it was worse when Eoman jealousy of any government better and abler than
its own (and under Vandal rule Spain had become fertile and Spaniards rich and
contented) brought Visigoths from over the Pyrenees to fall upon the Vandals,
no doubt with the secret hope that both would at least be weakened in the
struggle, and one might perhaps be destroyed (a.d.
416). The Vandali Silingi were
indeed
destroyed, and the Alani so roughly handled that they united themselves to the
rest of the Yandals (whose king took the title of King of the Yandali and
Alani), and retired to the south, while the Suevi were confined to the
north-western districts. Spain returned once more to at least a nominal
allegiance to Rome; and Wallia the Yisigoth was rewarded by the honour of a “
triumph” in Rome, and by the grant of Aquitaine,—a grant which formed the basis
of the great Yisigothic kingdom, that eventually included all the south of Gaul
and nearly the whole of Spain (a.d. 470).
But the allegiance of Spain to Rome was brief, and in fifteen years the Yandals
were once more masters of the country (a.d.
423). Roman perfidy, moreover, seems to have called out all the
worst side of what had been a noble character, and the six years which ensued
were marked by a ferocity justifying perhaps the use of the term “ Vandalism.”
The country was pillaged, and the Catholic clergy and people persecuted.
Genseric
King—a.d. 428.—This pillage
and persecution appears to have been due to a man whose name aroused as much
horror as that of Attila the Hun. This was Genseric (or Gheiseric), the bastard
half-brother of Gonderic, who reigned until a.d.
428. He was short in stature, and had been lamed by a fall from his
horse. A man of few words and powerful intellect—of rare self-command, but
terrible when roused, his character seems to have made a profound impression on
his contemporaries. Scorning luxury and indulgence, yet devoured by avarice, he
had one passion and one purpose iu life, gold; and in pursuit of it he was
impassive, cold, pitiless. And in this respect he compares badly with Attila,
who at least had the instincts of a warrior and conqueror, who loved the fever
of battle and the glory of victory as other men love peace, while Genseric was
a
mere robber
and pirate. The one would have sighed with Alexander for more worlds to
conquer, the other for more towns to pillage.
Invasion of
Africa—a.d. 429.—Genseric
succeeded his brother Gonderic in a.d.
428. He had already become aware that it would be more difficult to
hold than it had been to conquer Spain. The population itself was quite Roman
in feeling, and would resent the rule of a barbarian; while the Visigoths lay
close to his northern frontier, a nation stronger than his own, and more
friendly with the Empire. To remain in Spain, therefore, was to remain in
presence of a constant danger. Meanwhile across the water lay the province of
Africa, fertile, rich, and as yet unpillaged. The strait was but twelve miles
across. And there were allies whose assistance would be of value, and who would
welcome him with joy as a deliverer, — the Moors, utter savages, who had been
irritated but never subdued by the civilised arms of Rome; and the heretics
called Donatists, the “ Puritans” of the early Church, whose bishops almost
equalled in numbers the Catholic bishops; but who, since the conference of
Carthage (a.d. 412), had
suffered a rigorous persecution. Moors and Donatists alike, therefore, would
welcome Genseric as a deliverer; and that the latter were right in so doing is
proved by the fact, that for 100 years, the duration of the Vandal empire, they
enjoyed perfect peace. At this juncture it was, while the Vandal was still
hesitating, that a strange chance gave him the opportunity he required.
Boniface, Count of Africa, had been made the victim of a plot (as we have
seen), and recalled from his province by Placidia. Believing that his life was
in danger, he looked round him for allies; and as Vorti- gern (if we may
believe tradition) summoned the Jutes to aid him against the Piets (about a.d. 445), as Narses sum-
moned the
Lombards into Italy (a.d. 567),
as legend says Count Julian summoned the Arabs into Spain to avenge his
daughter’s wrongs (a.d. 710),
so now Boniface summoned the Yandals to come and help him. And the barbarians
who eame to help remained to occupy. In a.d.
429 the Vandal nation crossed the straits, numbering, it is said,
enly 50,000 effective warriors,—a number, however, soon swelled by the allies
already mentioned. Their crossing was the signal for a general flight. Before
Moorish horsemen and pitiless Vandals, still more before the dreaded vengeance
of religious foes, who had suffered and now burned to avenge, all of the
Catholic population who could escape fled pell-mell to the oases of the desert
or the caves of the Atlas. All too late Boniface discovered the treachery of
Aetius, and too late tried to negotiate with the ally whose aid he had
implored. In vain he rallied round him the garrison of Carthage and of a few
other towns. Genseric turned a deaf ear to all representations, defeated
Boniface in the field, and overran the whole open country; and Carthage, Cirta,
and Hippo were the only cities that stood up out of the waves of invasion that
surged around.. Africa now suffered what Greece and Italy had suffered from
Alaric, and Gaul from Ataulf, and Spain from Wallia and Gouderic; and without
crediting all the stories suggested by passion or fanaticism, we may imagine it
was a time of terrible misery. Even Eome felt the blow in the loss of her
annual store of corn. Boniface meanwhile was besieged in Hippo, a maritime
colony some 200 miles westward of Carthage, of which Augustine was at this time
the bishop. This greatest bishop of the African Church died in the third month
of the siege (August 28, 430); and of him, if of any man, we may truly say that
he was taken away from the evil to come. The long peace which his province had
enjoyed,
ever since
tlie battle of Thapsus (b.c. 46),
was now ended; and with the Vandal conquest began a series of troubles —of
Arian persecution, of conquest and reconquest—until the strong arm of Mohammedanism
wrested it from Christendom (about a.d.
650-700) and from civilised Europe. The siege of Hippo was
protracted for fourteen months, until the Vandals were obliged to relinquish
their efforts; and at Placidia’s urgent request, reinforcements were sent to
Boniface from Constantinople, under the command of Aspar. A second battle was
hazarded, followed by a second defeat, which determined both Aspar and Boniface
to abandon Africa at once (a.d. 431).
Boniface returned to Italy; but it was only to end an unfortunate life by a
dishonourable death. The enmity between himself and Aetius burst into an open
flame, and their private quarrel was decided in a bloody battle, in which
Boniface received a mortal wound from his enemy’s hand, and died in a few days;
while Aetius was obliged by Placidia to withdraw into Pannonia. Thus did a
fatal jealousy rob the Empire of the invaluable services of two able generals
at the very moment when most she needed them. However, it was not until a.d. 439 that the conquest of Africa
was completed by the surprise of Carthage, so turbulent were the subjects, so
numerous and dangerous the domestic enemies of Genseric. On October 9 Carthage
was taken, a fitting retribution, it was said, for almost unexampled
corruption; and when the rumour reached Italy of what had happened within but a
short distance of her own coast, when a bishop of Carthage (with the strangely
Puritan name of “ Quod vult Deus”) and many of his clergy, embarked on crazy
vessels and, tempest-tossed, were eventually stranded on the coast of Italy, it
might well have seemed to Eome that her hour too was coming.'
The Vandal
Kingdom—a.d. 430-533.—Under
the
rule of
Genseric Africa threatened to relapse into something like barbarism.
Civilisation and Catholicism alike were in danger. The Mediterranean once more
swarmed with pirates; no island, no harbour, was safe from their attacks; and
at last even an army from Carthage was seen encamped in the Forum and occupying
Eome for fourteen days ! But before this occupation the prosperity of Eome was
utterly destroyed by the severance of Africa from the Empire.
Rome
Sacked by G-enseric—a.d. 455.—Master
of Africa and the Mediterranean, it is little wonder that Genseric’s thoughts
should have turned to Eome and the treasures of Eome. Cut off from their usual
corn supply, and wounded by the loss of their far fairest province, it is
little wonder, on the other hand, that the Italians should have longed to
recover it. And the two enemies, face to face, each with injuries to avenge, would
doubtless have met sooner had not the special difficulties of each at home
occupied their attention for some five years. Eome was doing battle with the
Huns, Genseric was pacifying a turbulent population. At last (a.d. 455), when Valen- tinian had been
murdered, and Maximus, from passion or revenge, had forced the widowed Eudoxia
to marry him, she, remembering her royal birth and indignant at the outrage,
yet unable to hope for any aid from Constantinople (for her father was dead,
her mother in a disgraceful exile, and the Empire in the hands of a stranger),
appealed secretly to Genseric, as the Princess Honoria had appealed to Attila,1
and within three months the Vandal was at the mouth of the Tiber. Maximus was
at once murdered by the mob in the streets, and three days afterwards Genseric
was at the gates of Eome. Once more it was a priest who alone did not fear.
1
See next chapter.
Once more the
same Leo, bishop of Rome, who had arrested Attila’s progress on the frontiers
of Italy (a.d. 452),
sallied forth at the head of his clergy to intercede for the city (June 14,
455). But it was little that he won from the hard heart of Genseric. The lives
of those who offered no resistance were to be spared; the buildings were to be
saved from fire, and the captives from torture. And this was all. Rome and its
inhabitants were delivered over for fourteen days to the tender mercies of
Yandals and Moors, and everything of value which had been left by Alaric,
everything which Christian devotion or patrician luxury had accumulated since
Alaric’s departure, was swept off and carried to Carthage. And thus it was, by
a strange catastrophe, that a fierce barbarian, whose forefathers lived on the
shores of the Baltic, compelled Rome to surrender, and carried to Africa the spoils
of two religions not his own. From the Temple of Peace he bore away the gold
table and the seven-branched candlestick which Titus had brought as trophies
from the sack of Jerusalem (a.d. 70);
while he stripped the Capitoline Temple of its yet remaining statues of gods
and heroes, as well as of its costly gilt bronze roof, on which Domitian alone
is said to have spent more than £2,000,000. Last, but not least, the Yandal
fleet conveyed to Carthage the occasion of all this misery, the Empress Eudoxia,
and her daughters Eudocia and Placidia, accompanied by hundreds of captives of
both sexes. But the fate of Eudoxia, who, if a prisoner, was treated
honourably, and whose elder daughter was married to Genseric’s son, Huneric,
was happy compared to that of the innocent Romans whom she had brought to ruin.
They were divided as booty or sold as slaves—husbands torn from wives, and
children from parents—a hard fate, only mitigated by the charity and
self-devotion of Deogratias, bishop of Carthage. Yet
ROM.
EMP. I
if the sack
of Eome inflicted loss upon the Christians, to the pagans and to paganism it
was destruction. Genseric completed what Alaric had begun, and by a strange
fatality, even the ship which bore the statues of gods and heroes, the last
relics of pagan Eome, to Carthage, foundered at sea.
Policy of
Genseric.—The object of Genseric in taking Eudoxia and the other captives to
Africa was booty. Princesses at least must have considerable property, he
thought, and be worth a ransom—probably also must have dowries. Hence the
marriage of Eudocia to Hunerie. And further, now that Eudocia and her mother
were connected with him by marriage, any refusal to ransom the one or dower
the other, would be a direct insult to himself, and serve as an excuse for
appealing to arms. On the other hand, the Eastern Emperor, Marcian, was equally
anxious to obtain their release, and alternately tried threats and cajoleries
upon Genseric. But the latter was imperturbable. "Whether it was to be
war or peace between them, he cared not; but he did care for the dowry of his
daughter-in-law and the ransom of her mother and sister. Eor seven years these
negotiations lasted. In the end, by the intervention of a Eoman senator,
Olybrius, the lover and afterwards the husband of Placidia, the Court of
Constantinople was induced to pay the sums demanded, and the mother and
daughter were set free. Olybrius and Placidia were married. And now Genseric
put in a second claim, which was almost comical. He demanded that Olybrius
should be made Emperor of the West, adding that he could think of no other
reason why his demand should be refused, except a desire to insult himself, and
in that case he should know how to act. At this juncture Majorian might have
been formidable as an antagonist, but Majorian was dead, and the feeble Severus
was already tottering.
On Eiciiner’s
refusal to accede to Genseric’s proposal, the Mediterranean was at once covered
with piratical fleets, which penetrated to every corner, and hy Genseric’s
orders everywhere raised the same war-cry, “ Olybrius, for Emperor of the
West!”
Expedition
against Carthage—a.d. 468.—In
this extremity Eicimer appealed to the Eastern Emperor Leo to nominate an
Emperor in the West, and to join in an expedition to curb the insolence of the
Yandals. Leo nominated Anthemius, and showed his further good-will by immediate
preparations for an invasion of Africa. No less than 1,113 ships were equipped
in the Golden Horn, manned by 7,000 marines, and able to carry 100,000 men;
large sums of money were provided to meet current expenses, and the only
question was as to the general. Had the right man been appointed, the Yandal
power might have been crushed sixty years before it really was, and the
combined action of East and West, at once harmonious and successful, might have
deferred if not prevented the destruction of Italian independence.
Basiliscus
its Leader.—The right man woidd have been Marcellinus, a general trained under
Aetius, nominally governor of Dalmatia, in reality almost an independent sovereign.
But once more jealousy and political intrigue ruined a good cause. Eicimer in
the West threw every obstacle in the way of his appointment as commander-in-chief,
and would now neither countenance the expedition himself nor allow Anthemius to
do so. In the East—equally anxious with the West to see Marcellinus in chief
command—two men intrigued to prevent it; one who did not wish the expedition
to succeed, another who was convinced that its success depended on himself. And
the former used the latter as his tool. The former was Aspar the Goth, the
latter was Basiliscus,
brother of
the Empress Verina. Aspar was afraid that a successful war would diminish his
own influence at Court, while he foresaw that the incompetence of Basiliscus
would ensure failure. Accordingly, he used all his great influence, and with
success, to secure the appointment of Basiliscus; while, feigning to see in it
a mere religious quarrel and not a national war, he entreated the good offices
of Basiliscus for his Arian friends and kinsmen the Yandals, whom he was about
to attack and conquer. The expedition was well provided, well officered, and
well concerted. Nothing but the mingled folly and treachery of Basiliscus
prevented its succeeding.
Defeat
of the Expedition.—The Western fleet or right wing of the expedition was to set
out from Italy under the command of Marcellinus, and to clear Sardinia of
Vandals : the left wing, under Heraclius, was to pick up the garrisons of Egypt
and Cyrenaica, and to fall upon Tripolis, and thence to march upon Carthage by
land; while the centre, under Basilicus in person, was to join the . right wing
off the coast of Sicily, and attack Carthage from the sea. The force at command
was overpowering. The right and left wings succeeded with ease in effecting the
first steps in the campaign. The right wing and the centre united off the coast
of Sicily: and Heraclius was on the march for Carthage. Even Genseric, we are
told, was discouraged, and a bold attack might have carried the capital, and
ended the war at once ! Not once or twice only' in history, however, discretion
has falsely seemed the better part of valour. Carthage lay at the south-west
corner of an immense gulf, facing nearly due north, the north-western and
north-eastern extremities of which were named respectively the promontories of
Apollo and of Mercury (Cape Farina and Cape Bon). Just to the west of the
latter, and immediately within
the gulf, was
a small town with an open roadstead, exposed especially to gales from the
north-west and west. From hence to Carthage was ahout thirty-five miles direct.
In this roadstead Basiliscus cast anchor, afraid to attack without feeling his
way, and anxious to hear tidings of Heraclius. Presently an envoy from Genseric
presented himself. He represented his master as eager for peace, hut afraid of
his people. He asked, therefore, for live days’ truce, that Genseric might
consult theii wishes, handing Basiliscus, at the same time, a large sum of
money as an earnest of his master’s good-will. Basiliscus remembered Aspar,
and was completely deceived. He took the money and granted the truce, and
relapsed ■with his army into fatal security. To Genseric, meanwhile,
time was everything, and during those five days every nerve was strained to
prepare for the change of wind to west which might be expected. On the 5 th day
the wind changed, and Genseric was ready. At nightfall two fleets issued from
the harbour before the wind, one of men-of-war amply equipped and, manned, the
other of boats and smaller merchant vessels filled with combustibles. As they
drew near the doomed fleet of their enemy no watchfires, 110 sentinels, were to
be seen. Fleet and army alike were -wrapped in profound slumber. At a signal
the fireships were cast loose, and driving before the wind presently became
entangled with the nearest Eoman ships : and the horrified Romans awoke to find
that all was lost. The flames spread unchecked, until the whole bay was
illumined: there was no possibility of concerted action, and individual effort
was useless : while the confusion was increased by the Yandal men-of-war
sailing along the burning line, and showering darts and arrows on any who were
bold enough to try and meet the peril. Even Romans of Rome’s palmy
days might
have been awestruck by such sights and sounds: and the Romans of the later
Empire were no heroes. Basiliseus fled under cover of the night: many followed
his example; some few cut'their way in despair through the enemy’s line. When
the relics of the fleet and army were reviewed in Sicily, it was found that
more than half had been sacrificed by their own supineness, and the treachery
of Basiliseus. Even yet, however, much might have been done with an army of
50,00l men, and a fleet of more than 500 vessels, had a man like Mareellinus
been placed in command. But it Avas not to be. Mareellinus was murdered in open
day—men said, at the order and by an agent of the jealous Rieimer. The forces
of the Western Empire were recalled. At the news from Carthage Heraclius in
Tripolis halted, and retraced his steps. And lastly Basiliseus slunk back to
Constantinople, a disgraced fugitive, and sought asylum from popular vengeance
in the Church of St. Sophia. The intervention of the Empress Yerina alone
enabled him to retire in safety to an obscure town in Thrace.
Decline
of the Vandal Power.—After this victory, so unexpected and so crushing,
Genserie became undisputed master of Africa, Tripolis, Sardinia, even Sicily,
until his death in a.d. 477,
and hardly a coast of the Mediterranean was safe from the Vandal fleets. Owing
to his energy and ability for command, the Vandals, in the middle of the fifth
century, became the foremost barbarian nation within the Roman Empire, and
might have seemed destined far more than Franks or Visigoths to found a
permanent kingdom. But Genserie may be compared to Epaminondas the Theban,
whose death put an end to the glory of his nation, which his life had won. And
after his death the declension of the Vandal power and name was so rapid, that
only fifty years afterwards
Belisarius
destroyed the kingdom without difficulty in a campaign of less than three
months. The story of this campaign, and the account of the causes of Vandal
weakness, will he reserved for the chapter on Justinian’s reign.
ATTILA AND
THE HUNS.
King
Attila.—Of all the characters that played a part on the stage of Eoman history
in the fifth century, not one is so weird, or so hard to grasp as that of
Attila. As in a dense mist, some half-seen approaching figure looms larger than
human, yet dim and undefined, so is Attila a shadowy figure, half-revealed by
contemporary history, half-obscured and distorted by dim traditions, which in
after ages gathered round his name. That he was really teirible is seen in
history. That he was also really great—great out of all proportion to the
results of his brief career—is evident from the fact, that numerous peoples,
Eomans, Gauls, Franks, English, Scandinavians, Goths, and Hungarians, seized
upon his name—as afterwards on that of Charles the Frank—and preserved it in
their songs and legends. It is a strange medley of historical and traditional
evidence, from which we have to infer the man as he was—history dating from one
hundred years later; traditions as shifting and diverse as they are
interesting. One “ precious fragment,” however, remains to tell us, at least,
what one man saw with his own eyes, and thought of what he saw. In a.d. 449, a
certain Greek, named Priscus, was attached to an embassy from Constantinople
to the Court of Attila. He
traversed a
large part of the Trans-Danubian provinces, and saw much both of Attila and his
chief wife, and of the manners and customs of the Huns. His description of what
he saw has been preserved almost entire, and is singularly vivid. Attila
himself he represents as a silent, reserved, resolute, and ambitious man; able
to conceive and energetic to carry out vast schemes of conquest; and skilled
in the secret of gaining the loyal obedience of even enemies—indisputably, a
master of men.
The
Traditions about Attila.—On this commanding figure, which dominated the minds,
and awed the imagination of a whole Continent, converge a multitude of
side-lights from all sorts of local traditions, and national folk-lore. Not
only are these of interest in themselves, but of great use in illustrating the
story of Attila; although, of course, their value varies in proportion to their
remoteness in time and place from the time and place of their subject. Au
Italian legend on the one hand, and a German on the other, may be of equal
value from different points of view; but a Scandinavian or an English tradition
will be worth less than a German, and a Hungarian worth less than a
Scandinavian. Lastly, each set of traditions has its distinctive type and character,
due to assignable causes.
Gallo-Roman
and Italian Traditions. — The Latin traditions about Atcila owed their special
character, partly to the fact that the communities which suffered from his arms
were Christian, partly to the accident that the most dramatic situations in the
tragedy were sustained by Christian priests or saints. As Anianus at Orleans,
and Lupus at Troyes, and Geuevieve at Paris, so Leo at Mantua was the prime
agent in a great deliverance. In the fifth century the gratitude of a Christian
province
for such
deliverance took the shape—not of thanks and honours to military genius, which
had laid the spectre of Hunnish invincibility—but of overflowing, almost abject
reverence for the saintly men and women, who by death or unworldly calmness in
the presence, of danger had moved an Attila to mercy. Every district, every
city, began little by little to claim some special part for itself in the awful
horrors, from which, as by the finger of God, Gaul and Italy had lately been
saved; and some special glory for its own saint or prelate. Thus a mass of
traditions was insensibly accumulated, which (however unliis- torical) exactly
chimed in with the notions and -wishes of the time: and the idea was developed
and fostered by the teaching of the Church, that Attila had been an agent of
God’s -wrath against men, a “ scourge of God,” while holy men and women were
agents of His pity, to intercede and save them from extermination. All things
were double, one against the other; on one side war and rapine, on the other
peace; on one side the scourge, on the other the intercessor. What honour then
could be too great for a Church, whose ministers were so favoured of heaven—for
a Genevieve, who (legend said) had saved Paris from capture; for an Anianus,
who had rescued Orleans; for a Lupus, who led a host of Huns harmless through
the streets of Troyes—harmless, because a veil was before their eyes, and they
seemed to be marching through woods and meadows; for a Leo, whose intercession
saved Eome from pillage by the heathen! There was but little room left for the
recognition of such a trifling accident as the winning of a great battle. To
the fifth and sixth centuries the conference of Mantua between Attila and Leo
seemed as much more glorious than the victory of Chalons, as the prayers of Leo
seemed greater than the genius of Aetius. The glory of Attila’s repulse
was thus
transferred hy religious sentiment from the warrior to the priest, and the
story was coloured accordingly. When a hermit salutes Attila hy the title of “
Scourge of God,” and predicts his defeat at Chalons ; or when the two apostles,
St. Peter and St. Paul, stand behind Leo in his embassy to Attila, and with
silent gestures, and drawn swords, threaten the great king, if he spares not
Eome, it is no longer sober history we are dealing with, but history
transfigured by religious sentiment.
East
German or Gothic Traditions.—The German traditions were very different from
the Latin. Their theme is not the ‘ ‘ scourge of God,” nor their burden a tale
of carnage and misery. But they tell of a great king, wise and magnificent; a
hard fighter and a deep drinker; whose court was hospitable, splendid, and
joyous.
There are two
causes which seem to have left this deep impression on the legends of the
Germans. Almost without exception they had been Attila’s vassals. But the
vassalage had been such as to soothe rather than wound their pride. It had
brought with it conquest and glory. It had been shared with, all the other
nations of Central Europe. And the Ostrogothic chiefs, in particular, had been
admitted to Attila’s counsels, and intrusted with the command of his armies.
Further, the series of wars and Gothic conquests, which followed Attila’s
death, was identified with his name and memory. Odoacer, who ruled Italy for
fifteen years, was son of that Edecon who had more than once been Hunnish
ambassador to Constantinople ; and Odoacer himself had served in Attila’s
armies. Theodoric, who founded the kingdom of the Ostrogoths, and governed
Italy for thirty years, was a son of Theodemir, Attila’s chief counsellor.
Thus, though dead, the memory of the great “ King Etzel ” seemed yet to survive
in the exploits of
his captains
and their children. Tradition, however, is careless of truth. Ere long
Ostrogothic vainglory coupled together the names of Ermanaric, Attila, and
Theodoric, as a glorious trio of contemporaries, to do honour to the royal race
of the Amali; forgetting that Attila was horn twenty-five years after
Ermanaric’s death, and that he died when Theodoric was only eight years old. It
is instructive to note this confusion, and its probable origin. Every good
Goth or Erank knew by heart the songs that celebrated the deeds of his fathers
and his people, the Tliad of his race. They were sung at every feast by bard
and poet. But of all their heroes Theodoric was the greatest, the worthy peer
of heroes as great as himself, even though they were not Ostrogoth, but
Visigoth and Hun. The combination was as easy, as it seemed natural and
legitimate.
West
German and Scandinavian Traditions.— Nor is it wonderful that the glorious
deeds of the fifth and sixth centuries, their most- glorious epoch, stimulated
the ideas of Gothic singers; and that the sixth century saw rise a cycle of
legend, which gradually passed from Eastern to Western Germany, and thence to Scandinavia,
Iceland, and England, in which Attila figures largely, while Theodoric is the
hero. And there is nothing singular in this passing on (as it were) of tradition
from one people to another. The songs of the Lombards in honour of Alboin were
current not only in Lombardy, but among Bavarians and Saxons. Not seldom one
king woidd send to another king his own favourite harper or singer (as
Theodoric to Chlodwig the Erank), who would of course carry with him his own
special songs. The English Alfred, the Frank Charles, the Scandinavian Scalds
were all devoted to these glorifications of ancient heroes, all dwelt with
equal delight 011
the exploits
of Theodoric and Attila. Thus, in Northern and "Western Europe the popular
songs of the ninth century repeated the same story, though in a different
shape. In the latter, as in the earlier form, the mysterious king “ Etzel ” or
“ Athel ” still figures—no longer, however, as the friend of Theodoric and
Italian heroes, hut in connection with Walter the Visigoth and Sigurd the
Netherlander, veritable German heroes. He even woos and wins the fair Gudrunn,
when Sigurd, her lord, had been slain by the wicked wiles of Brunehild—wins
her, however, to his own sorrow, for she bids her first lord’s murderers and
all their followers to her new lord’s court, and there one and all are slain,
including Queen Gudrunn herself.
Nibelungen-lied.—Thus
far, then, the legend was a genuine tradition, passing from mouth to mouth.
Towards the end of the tenth century, however, a certain Pilgerein or Pilegrin,
bishop of Passau, and apostle of the Hungarians, collected the various popular
songs concerning Attila, which were floating about Germany, and threw them into
the form of an epic poem written in Latin. This was practically the first
edition of the famous “ Nibelungen-lied” (Song of the Nibelungs) and determined
the character of all after legends respecting Attila. The song is the story of
the curse, which clave to all who had aught to do with the hoarded treasure of
King Nibe- lung of the Nibelungen land—a curse which lighted upon Sigurd and
Hagen, and Gunther and Gudrunn, and even involved King Etzel himself in
trouble. In fact, the whole catastrophe of the tale turns upon Attila’s second
marriage.
Hungarian
Traditions.—Lastly, there is a whole cycle of Hungarian traditions gathered
round three great heroes—Attila, the common ancestor and glory of all Huns 3
Arpad,
founder of the Magyar kingdom (about a.d.
930); Stephen, apostle, saint, and king (a.d. 1000): but it is the name of Attila again which
predominates; who invades Italy; who is forbidden, not by Leo, but by Jesus
Christ himself, to disturb the repose of His apostles in Eome; who has two
wives, Honoria the Eoman, and Chriemhild {i.e. Gudrunn), the German; and whose
death is connected with his marriage to a third wife, daughter of the king of
the Bactrians.
Summary.—Such
is a short sketch of a very wide subject. Its interest lies in the fact, that
the name of Attila became the common stock of European legend for centuries
after his death; and in the inference to be drawn therefrom, that none but a
man of commanding greatness could have left this indelible mark upon his own
and succeeding ages. And if it be asked why, if he were so great, the results
of his efforts were so small, the answer would be twofold—first, that the
tribes over whom he ruled, and especially the Huns themselves, were hardly in
any sense civilised; and, secondly, that the jealousy between the two great
divisions of his Empire, the Aryan and Turanian, which was repressed with a
strong hand while he lived, burst out after his death, and destroyed for a
while the Empire which he had consolidated.
State
of Central Europe—a.d. 400-450.—It
has already been told how, at the beginning of the fifth century, Italy, Gaul,
Spain, and Africa, suffered from barbarian inroads—from Visigoths, Vandals,
Alani, and others. The Italian or the Gaul, who writhed beneath their violence,
never suspected of course the cause which brought on him and his such woes from
. beyond the mountains. But in fact his enemies were fleeing from enemies more
terrible than themselves. A great wave of Huns, with their subject-allies, was
sweeping into and over
the east of
Europe, driving all before them; and the valley of the Danube was like an ant’s
nest, disturbed and upturned, where all is confusion and agitation and
hurrying to and fro. The first glimpse we obtain of these Huns shows us hordes
of savage horsemen preying on the industry of others, trampling out the faint
traces of civilisation which were just beginning to show themselves, and
reducing all with whom they came in contact to a state of nomad barbarism like
their own. Year by year they pressed further westwards, led by four kings or
chiefs, one of whom was Moundzoukh, the father of Attila. Year by year they
drew nearer to the frontier of Eome. And Eome soon learned both to fear and to
use the swords of the fierce horsemen, who would sell themselves to any bidder.
It needed but a strong hand to reduce these restless hardy men to order and
obedience, and a strong head to guide them, and then Empire was assured.
Attila, King—a.d. 435.—Both were united in
Attila, who succeeded to the chief power about a.d. 435, and having rid himself of his brother Bleda,
gradually laid a firmer and firmer grasp on all the Hunnish tribes of Eastern
Europe, preparatory to reducing the Teuton and Slave populations in the North
and West. And, if we may believe Norse tradition, he pursued his conquests as
far as the Baltic, and in a very few years was master of all Europe north of
the Danube and east of the Ehine, with the exception of Scandinavia and the
country between the Lower Ehine and the Elbe. “Barbaria” and “Eo- mania” were
once more face to face; but the latter was no longer united, the former was no
longer divided. And weakness on the one side was quickly followed by encroachment
on the other.
Gradual
Encroachments.—Already in a.d. 435
the Treaty of Margus, dictated by Attila, had shown what
the Eoman
Empire might expect at his hands. He demanded an instant cessation of alliance
between the Empire and the Trans-Danubian tribes; the immediate extradition of
all Huns within the Empire; the restoration of Eoman prisoners who had escaped
unransomed; and a large increase of the “subsidy” or “aid,” or whatever other
euphonious name they might choose to give to the “tribute” paid to himself. And
in a.d. 441 and a.d. 446, on the pretext that the Bishop
of Margus had surreptitiously rifled the tombs of the Hunnish kings, he had
crossed the Danube, pushed as far as Thermopylae, defeated two Eoman armies,
and ravaged seventy cities, allowing himself finally to be bought off.
Embassy
to Constantinople.—Again, in a.d. 449,
an embassy was sent to Constantinople with demands more urgent than before.
Attila claimed by right of conquest all the Cisdanubian provinces within five
days’ march of the river. He required that future ambassadors sent to his court
should be men of the highest rank only. He renewed his complaints about the
refugees, with no indistinct threats of war. War indeed was what he wanted—war
leading to conquest and aggrandisement. And the Eastern Emperor, Theodosius II.
(a.d. 408-450) was no match for
Attila in either firmness or policy. They were almost a ludicrous contrast. The
one by his very personal characteristics, by his broad chest and deep sunk
restless eyes, by his mingled simplicity and love of splendour, by the
alternate ferocity and placability of his temper, by his subtle and persistent
policy, by his wisdom, and justice, and generosity, challenged the awe and
admiration of mankind. The other was at fifty as much a child as he had been
at fifteen—regular in his studies and devotions, lavish in his expenses,
willing to abandon the cares of State to any one, sister, wife, or favourite,
if he
himself might
only he let alone. It was the fahle of the lamb and the wolf repeated.
Counter-Embassy.—The
reigning favourite at Constantinople was the eunuch Chrysaphius. This man
flattered himself that he had successfully bribed Edecon, one of the Hunnish
ambassadors, to assassinate Attila. In reality, Edecon had betrayed the plot to
his master. However, Chrysaphius, himself deceived, persuaded Theodosius to
send a counter-embassy to Attila with an evasive if not imprudent answer,
practically shelving his demands. What need of courtesy to a barbarian, who
would shortly cease to trouble them? The three ambassadors, Maximin, Yigilas,
and Priscus, already mentioned, set out with Edecon and Orestes, who were to
return with them. They crossed the Danube, and after some days’ journeying,
unexpectedly met a deputation similar to their own, despatched by Yalentinian
III., the Western Emperor, to Attila. They, too, had a difficulty of their own
to arrange, connected with certain vases or sacred vessels, which had been
secretly withdrawn from Sirmium before its pillage, but which Attila had heard
of and now claimed. The irony of Fortune could hardly farther go ! The answer
of Attila to the joint deputation, given after some delay, was couched in
similar terms. To the West it was, “ The Yases, or their holder, or war.” To
the East it was, “ The head of Chrysaphius, or war.” Such an answer from such a
man seemed to echo back and to force into relief all the vague presentiments
and forebodings which were, so to say, in the air (a.d. 450), and were aggravated by a
curious succession of natural phenomena, an eclipse, a comet, and shocks of
earthquake. Tribe after tribe was known to be gathering on the banks of the
Danube. East and West alike were sitting as in mute despair, expecting where
the blow would
ROM. EMP.
K
fall, wnen on
the same clay at the same hour, (so runs the story), a courier demanded
audience of Theodosius in the East and Yalentinian in the West, and each
delivered his message in the same terms:—“ Attila, my master and thine, bids
thee prepare him a palace, for he comes.”
Attila
demands the Princess Honoria.—But a more precise demand was yet to follow.
Fifteen years before, Honoria, sister of Yalentinian, in a
fit of romantic folly, or wearied with the monotony of life, had sent a ring to
Attila and offered him herself. For fifteen years Attila had left the offer
unnoticed, though he kept the ring. And now suddenly a formal request was made,
that his bride might be sent, and with her, more important still, her dowry.
Alliance
with Genseric and the Franks.—At this juncture fortune gave
Attila two allies, and an opportunity which he was not slow to seize. These
allies were Genseric the Yandal, and a Frankish prince. The former had deeply
insulted Theodoric the Yisigoth by mutilating his daughter, his own son’s
wife, on some fancied slight, and then sending her home. The latter had been
driven from his country by a domestic revolution on his father’s death, and
besieged Attila with entreaties to restore him to his father’s throne.
Genseric, fearing that Theodoric would revenge himself for the insult (as in
fact he did) by an immediate alliance with Eome, and preparations for war,
concluded on his part an alliance with Attila, by which it was agreed that a
simultaneous attack should be made on Italy and Gaid— an attack, however,
which, as far as Italy was concerned, was deferred for some five years by
Genseric’s own difficulties in Africa. Attila meanwhile prepared with vigour
to restore his Frank ally, and to attack his Visigothic enemies, whom, at the
same time, he tried to cajole with
fair words.
Now, as always, his words were ambiguous. Whether Romans or Visigoths were his
friends or enemies he left uncertain. One thing only was certain, that devastation
and misery were in store for whomsoever he should attack. Only once before in
history had such u numbers numberless ” been gathered in one host,
and the description of their names and arms rivals that of Xerxes’ army as
given by Herodotus. The lowest estimate reckons 500,000 fighting men.
Attila
invades Gaul—a.d. 451.—By
the beginning of March Attila was on the Rhine. Resistance seemed hopeless.
Town after town was taken or surrendered— Spires, Worms, Strasburg, Metz,
Rheims, Arras. All alike were pillaged. Officials, civil and military, fled. In
the general panic one class of men alone remained at their posts, the priests,
discharging ecclesiastical, civil, and even sometimes military functions, and
earning for their order a well-deserved renown—for themselves too often a crown
of martyrdom for their bold obedience to duty. Both history and tradition unite
to honour also a woman, St. Genevieve, who saved Paris—not indeed, as legend
says, by resisting an assault, but, when the men had resolved to abandon the
city, by persuading their wives to refuse to acquiesce, and to shut themselves
into the church of St. Stephen. The baffled husbands were forced to yield; and
as Genevieve had ventured to predict, Attila passed Paris by. The Paris of
those days was comparatively unimportant; and Attila had other projects in
view. To a leader, the strength of whose army was horsemen, the great plain of
Central France promised to be at once a forage ground and a battle field; and
towards that the king now directed his march from Metz. In twenty days he was
before Orleans (beginning of May).
Siege
of Orleans.—The situation of Orleans is remarkable. In ancient Gaul, as in
mediaeval and modern Prance, it has always played an important part, and a
glance at a map will shew why. Lying on the right bank of the Loire, where the
river bends to the westward—commanding, therefore, the valleys west and south,
and (as it were) barring the way from the north—whether known as Genabum, or
Aurelianum, or Orleans, from the days of Csesar to our own days, the city has
been a famous centre, both commercial and strategic. As in the fifteenth
century against the English, as in the nineteenth against the Germans, so in
the fifth against Attila, Orleans made a vigorous resistance, and formed the
turning point of the struggle. To one man belongs the glory of this resistance,
Anianus, (St. Agnan), Bishop of Orleans, who was as good and self-devoted as he
was full of vigour and resource. As the Huns were approaching, he hurried to
Aetius at Arles, and urged him to march without delay. The city could hold out
until June 23rd, and no longer. Then he returned with all haste to animate the
citizens by his courage and his presence. Meanwhile, Aetius had no easy task
before him. The relief of Orleans was a pressing necessity; but Valentinian had
retained in Italy all but a handful of troops, the Burgundians had been
defeated, the fidelity of the Alani was more than doubtful, and the Yisigoths
sulkily refused to move a finger. It was Roman folly, they said, which had
brought them into this difficulty; and the Romans must meet it as best they
could. In this crisis he had recourse to a man, whose influence -with Theodoric
was greater than any man’s, the Senator Mecilius Avitus, afterwards Emperor (a.d. 455-6).
Avitus was a strange mixture of the soldier, statesman, student, and man of
pleasure, who had sustained each character with equal success, and captivated
the harharic
imagination by the elegance of his life. And now this influence was turned to
good account. Where Aetius had failed, Avitus succeeded. Theodoric issued the
order to march, and the junction of the Roman and the Visigothic forces seemed
to assure victory beforehand.
Relief
of Orleans.—But they were only just in time. It was June 23rd, and no signs of
relief were visible to the hard-pressed town. A messenger was sent in hot haste
to Aetius, warning him that to-morrow would be too late. Still no help came;
and at last the city was forced to surrender at discretion to an enemy
irritated by protracted resistance. The Huns entered Orleans, and the pillage
began. But “ when the night is darkest, dawn is nearest.” A sudden cry of
panic, and a sudden retreat of their enemies told the trembling city that help
was at hand; and the Roman and Gothic forces were attacking the Huns, even
before they could extricate themselves from the narrow streets. Orleans was
saved, and Attila in full retreat eastwards. But Aetius wasted no time in idle
rejoicings. A hot pursuit was at once begun; and ere night-fall the Roman
van-guard of Franks had overtaken the Gepidte, Attila’s rear-guard, at the confluence
of the Seine and the Aube, and at once attacked them. The battle raged all
night, and at dawn 15,000 men lay dead upon the field. But the struggle had
been worth while. Attila had had time to concentrate his forces on the chosen
spot, where he resolved to fight out the contest for Gaul—a level country
intersected by rivers, and bounded by mountains on the north and east. In this
vast “ Campania,” as it was called, (Champagne) and at a spot (Durocatalaunum,
Chalons) where two Roman roads diverged to the north-east and south-east,
offering means of retreat, if necessary, Attila took his final stand.
On. tlie same
day the army of Aetius encamped opposite to the Huns. The battle of Chalons
has well been called one of the “decisive battles” of the world; for the
question at issue was nothing less than the question, what race in particular
should enter upon the rich inheritance of Eoman civilisation, language, and law—whether
it should be German or Hun, Aryan or Turanian. The victory of Aetius did, in
fact, secure to Europe all that is contained in the words “Christianity” and
“civilisation.” By the victory of Attila the settlement of Europe would have
been indefinitely postponed, and Eoman civilisation possibly lost for ever.
Battle
of Chalons—a.d. 451.—In the host of the Huns there was general discouragement,
even Attila being moved by adverse prophecies and omens to forebode defeat.
Accordingly, he delayed the action till as late in the day as possible; nor was
it till three in the afternoon that he led his army from their encampment of
waggons. His Huns he posted in the centre under his own command, the Ostrogoths
on the left wing, the Gepidse and other subject tribes on the right, his object
being to break the Eoman centre, and at the same time to secure his own retreat
to his camp, if needful. Aetius’ tactics were skilfully directed to meet the
very thing which Attila had in view. The centre he left to take care of itself,
posting there the smaller tribes, and those whose fidelity was doubtful, while
he opposed the Visigoths to the Ostrogoths, and himself took the command of
the left wing against the Gepidee. That his own centre would be over powered
and pushed back was clear; that his own right and left wing would defeat their
opponents was probable; if so, his victory was assured. Visigoths and Eomans
would wheel round and charge; and no people so wayward and unstable as the
Huns would withstand a simul
taneous attack
on eacli flank. All happened precisely as he had foreseen. The Alani and
Burgundians were no match for the Huns, though they fought bravely: the
Visigoths, (though their king Theodoric was slain), after a fierce struggle,
defeated their kinsmen the Ostrogoths, and instantly fell on the flank of the
Huns, while the Eoman left under Aetius did the same. Thus assailed, Attila was
unable to hold his ground, and slowly retreated to the circle of waggons,
whence a ceaseless shower of arrows was kept up, warning the pursuers not to
presume too much upon their victory : and when next day a ceaseless din of
arms and blare of trumpets was heard from the Hunnish camp, it seemed as if
some sudden blow were in preparation. Accordingly, a council of war was held ;
and the Eomans and Goths agreed to sit down and blockade Attila in his camp,
and starve him out. But Tliorismond, the Visigoth, was anxious to return southwards,
now that his father was dead, in order to secure his own position—as anxious,
indeed, as Attila was to retreat before his forces were utterly demoralised by
confinement and inaction. The temper of barbarians is proverbially fickle.
Aetius, therefore, judged it prudent to let the Visigoths have their way, and
to withdraw his opposition, although their desertion was fatal to complete
success. For no sooner was it discovered in Attila’s camp that the Visigoths
had set out on their homeward march, than Attila also broke out, and began his
eastward journey, while Aetius did not feel himself strong enough to do more
than follow at a safe distance, and prevent plunder. Attila recrossed the
Ehine, and Gaul was saved, if not from a passing devastation, at least from
ruin; but the glory of his repulse, as we have seen, was not for Aetius. The
Visigoths disputed with him the honour of the victory; while the Court of
Eavenna
accused him
of treason, in letting Attila escape—a charge repeated with, dangerous
emphasis, when the Huns threatened Italy in the very next year.
Attila
threatens Italy — a.d. 452.—This
jealousy felt towards Aetius made his task in protecting Italy, Ravenna, Eome,
doubly difficult. He had no longer barbarian auxiliaries, scarcely even
patriotic spirit to fall back upon; and when in despair he proposed at least to
save the Emperor by conducting him to Gaul, a general chorus of indignation at
once proclaimed it an impossibility. All he could do, therefore, was to make
the best use of the resources at hand. To protect Eavenna and Eome at the same
time was impossible, so he abandoned Eavenna to its fate. The Emperor took
refuge in Eome. All troops, save a few garrisons, were withdrawn to the south
of the Po, and a large camp was formed on the northern slope of the Apennines;
and there, as the year before, behind the Loire, he prepared to make a last
desperate struggle for his sovereign and the capital, sending urgent demands
meanwhile to the Eastern Emperor Marcian (a.d.
450-457) for reinforcements against the common enemy. But they were
never needed. Attila had set out in the winter from Hungary, seized Sirmium,
crossed the Julian Alps, and, after a three months’ siege, had taken and so
cruelly devastated Aquileia, that 100 years later its site could hardly be
identified. Erom thence, and from many another town, the inhabitants fled in panic
to what seemed a safe retreat, the archipelago of islands on which Yenice
afterwards arose, but which at that time was haunted only by sea-birds. Yenetia
was overrun; Milan and Pavia were sacked. But the delay before Aquileia had
been fatal. It was now the heat of summer, and fever and pestilence appeared.
Attila himself indeed was anxious to march on, to force Aetius to fight, and
then to grasp
the glorious prize of Eome; hut his army was already laden with booty, and
remembering with dismay the awful fate of Alaric, who had broken the spell of
Eome’s inviolability, and paid for his temerity with his life, they were eager
to return.
Embassy
from Rome to Attila.—At this juncture a solemn embassy from Eome arrived in
Mantua, headed by Pope Leo, and sought an interview with Attila. It was
granted. And the king, flattered by the thought of thus seeing Eome and her
pontiff sueing for peace and of humiliating his enemy Aetius, granted the peace
that they asked f8r, and promised to quit Italy on condition of an annual
tribute (July 6th, 452). One right he still reserved to himself, as though loth
to part with a ground for complaint—the right to Honoria and her dowry.
Attila
leaves Italy.—And so the mighty conqueror went his way, never again to trouble
the peace of Italy —the conqueror, as his soldiers said, “ invincible by men,
but whom two wild beasts had overpowered,” meaning Lupus at Troyes and Leo in
Italy. And as he went, so runs the story, a warning was sent to him from heaven
of impending doom; for, as he was about to cross the river Lech (Lycus), a
strange female figure, as though inspired, seized his horse’s bridle and thrice
cried aloud in awful tones, “ Attila, back” (Eetro, Attila). And indeed the
doom was very near.
Marriage
and Death of Attila—a.d. 453.—He
took to himself in the following year a new bride, named Ildico or Hildegonde,
probably a prize of war, whom tradition variously describes as a Frank, a
Burgundian, and a Bactrian. Be that as it may, on the morning following his
marriage, Attila was found dead in his bed, wallowing in his own blood, and the
young bride seated by the bed and bathed in tears. Au ignoble end to a
life of
conquest and glory, the more so as it was never known whether he had died of
apoplexy or been murdered by his new wife, in vengeance for some insult to
herself and her people. Surely Attila should have died on the field of battle,
and in the rapture of victory J
THE “CHANGE
OF GOVERNMENT” —COMMONLY CALLED THE FALL OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE—a.d. 475-526.
Results
of Attila’s Death—a.d. 453.—Attila was dead. And the strong will which for
twenty-five years had known no check was not obeyed a single day after his
death. A quarrel for power broke out at once among his sons, necessitating a
division of Ms Empire, of its soil and people and flocks. Among a nomad people,
however, this is no easy task; there are no natural frontiers; the population
is ever on the move. The passions of the Germans, too, were aroused by the idea
of being counted and told off like so many cattle. The example of revolt, begun
by the Gepidse, was speedily followed by the Ostrogoths and other German
tribes; and the question was fought out in the plain of the Netad (a tributary
of the Danube), whether Germany shoidd be ruled by Germans or by Huns, should be
Aryan or Turanian. It was settled by the defeat of the Huns. The Gepidee
occupied what is now Hungary as the fruit of their victory. The Ostrogoths
occupied Dalmatia, Noricum, and Pan- nonia, an encroachment connived at by the
Eastern Emperor Marcian, in return for which they were supposed to be in
alliance with the Empire, and to furnish contingents to its armies. Other
German tribes, the Heru-
lians, the
Bugians, the Sueves, seized the country lying between the Danube and the Alps;
while the Lombards (Langobardi) moved southwards from the Elbe and took
possession of what is now Bohemia. Thus once more was unhappy Italy threatened
by a new series of barbarous foes.
Attila was
dead; hut his influence and spirit lived after him. Italy was presently overrun
by crowds of barbarians, singly or in bands, who flocked there to make their
fortunes, as vultures flock to a dying carcass. Eor the Western Empire was
nodding to its ruin. Aetius fell by the hand of Yalentinian (a.d. 454), and
with him fell the only clear head and strong arm, which could have warded off
coming evils: for it is hardly exaggeration to say, that after his death there
were no more Emperors of the West deserving of the name. Political power was
wholly in the hands of barbarian adventurers, many or all of whom had known
Attila, and in one way or another served under him.
Orestes
the Pannonian.—Foremost among these was that Orestes, the Pannonian, who has
already been noticed (chap. vii.) He had been secretary to Attila, and more
than once ambassador to Constantinople; and when the great king was dead, he
offered his services to the Emperor of the West, and speedily rose to be
patrician and master-general. The Empire meanwhile was rapidly falling from bad
to worse. Britain, Spain, and Africa, were lost. The Mediterranean was swarming
with Yandal pirates. Dalmatia was independent, and Gaul practically the same,
with the exception of Narbonne and Auvergne. Eicimer was dead; Constantinople
was far off; and there seemed no man able or willing to hold the reins of
power. At this crisis, moreover, the reigning Emperor was a Greek (Julius
JSepos, a.d. 474), a nominee of the Eastern Emp
eror Leo (a.d. 457-474), and consequently
unpopular as a semi-foreigner. A man of high virtue and considerable talent, his
lot was cast in unhappy times; for the sole event with which his name is
coupled was the compulsory cession of Auvergne to the Yisigoths. Orestes was
the officer charged by Nepos with the unpleasant duty of handing over the
province to its new masters, and a large body of troops was told off for the
purpose and placed under his command. But the cession cost Nepos his crown.
General and troops alike fretted under the duty imposed upon them; and, instead
of crossing the Alps, they marched as with one mind upon Eavenna, and Nepos had
no alternative but to flee. He hastily embarked on board ship, and crossed the
Adriatic to Dalmatia, where, six years later (a.d. 480), he was assassinated by order of Glycexius,
his predecessor on the imperial throne, who had himself been ousted by Nepos.
Romulus
Augustulus—a.d. 475.—Orestes
entered Eavenna as master of Italy on March 28, 475; but, contrary to all
expectation, he steadily refused the purple for himself, too cautious perhaps
to run so great a risk uselessly. For time was in his favour: the longer the
delay the greater was the confusion. At last an interregnum of seven months was
finished by what Thierry calls a “ coup de theatre.” On October 29th, a body of
soldiers marched to the house of Orestes, seized his young son, aged fourteen,
named Eomulus Augustulus, aud saluted him as Emperor. Their choice was accepted
by the army and the country, and thus by a strange accident the last in the
long line of Eoman Emperors of the West bore the name at once of the founder of
that Empire and of the founder of Eome itself. Nor was this all. The traditions
of long years, the forebodings of seers and poets, tended to the conviction
that Rome's destined twelve ages
of Empire,
typified by the twelve vultures of Romulus, were either completed or fast
bordering on completion. The end at last seemed approaching.
Downfall
of Orestes and the Emperor — a.d. 476.—The
ruin of Orestes began from the moment when he appeared to have gained his
object; for he had to satisfy the demands of those who had lifted him to power.
And those demands were for nothing less than a third of the soil of Italy. Was
the claim indeed so unreasonable? They had deserved well of Orestes. Other
tribes and nations, like themselves, had been allotted land within the Roman
Empire. Visigoths and Burgundians in Gaul had laid hands on two-thirds of the
soil; were they not moderate in only claiming one-third ? To themselves, no
doubt, they seemed moderate enough; but Orestes could realise what such a
confiscation implied, and was not so hard-hearted or unscrupulous as calmly to
inflict so much suffering on an unoffending people. He refused the demand. The
refusal at once resulted in a meeting; the meeting in a revolt; and the
revolters had no difficulty in finding a leader in Odoacer (or Otocliar), the
Rugian, son of Edecon, whom Attila had often employed, like Orestes, as
ambassador to the court of Byzantium. The dreams of ambition had already been
aroused in his mind by some words of St Severinus, whom he had visited in
Noricum when on his way to Italy, foretelling his future greatness. Young and
energetic, he had soon forced his way to high rank in the Italian army; and
being encumbered with few scruples, he readily promised to give what Orestes
had refused, if his comrades would accept him as their chief. They consented ;
and war was at once declared against the ungrateful Orestes. Erom all the
garrisons of Italy, and from the valley of the Danube, recruits flocked in to
join the
standard of
Odoacer, •whom accident and force of character thus enabled to verify the
prediction of Severinus. Orestes threw himself into Pavia; while his brother
Paulus prepared to defend Eavenna and the youthful Emperor. But it was too
late. Pavia was blockaded by Odoacer for forty days, and at last fell, rather
by treason from within than by force from without. The prayers of its saintly
Bishop Epiphanius, glorious already for many a similar intercession, saved
indeed the liberty and honour of many of its inhabitants, but Orestes was put
to death (a.d. 476), Erom Pavia the victorious Eugian, already saluted as
“king” by his soldiers, marched rapidly on Eavenna, defeated Paulus in the pine
woods that covered the city in those days on the south and south-west, and
entered the streets without resistance. Meanwhile, the trembling Eomulus had
thrown off the imperial insignia, and tried in vain to hide himself from the
ruthless barbarian, who had slain his father, and would hardly hesitate to
slay the son. Odoacer, however, was no mere butcher. Moved by the fears, or the
youth, or the beauty of the lad, he scorned to take his life, and allowed him
to retire with his whole family to the luxurious obscurity of the villa of
Lucullus on the promontory of Misenum in Campania,—once the home of Marius, and
then of Lucul lus, and now of the last Eoman Emperor of the West,— and yet to
be, twenty years later, the final resting place on earth for 500 years of the
body of the saint who had first warned Odoacer of his coming greatness.
A
Change in Form of Government. —Thus ended the long roll of Eoman Emperors in
the West for 325 years. An Emperor, indeed, there was at Constantinople, and
continued to be for nearly 1000 years, but his power in the West and over Italy
was partial and temporary, where he was regarded with jealousy as an alien.
Eome
saw not
another Emperor until the day when Pope Leo III. crowned Charles the Great
Emperor in the basilica of St. Peter, and the Empire revived to attempt once
more the great work of “Union,” of Eoman and Teutonic amalgamation (Christmas
Day, a.d. 800). But we must
not confound two different things. Empires can exist without Emperors, and
there is no special virtue in a name. Although, there was no Emperor, the life
of Eome and Italy continued much the same as it had been for the last fifty
years; indeed, it is remarkable how little noise among contemporaries this
revolution produced, of which later historians have made so much. It was a
change in the form of government, long foreseen ; and whatever change it produced
among the governed was certainly a change for the better. It would be idle (to
compare the vigorous reigns of Odoacer and Theodoric -with the anarchy preceding
them; and it may well be doubted, on the other hand, whether the effect of the
revolution on the ordinary life of an Italian was comparable to that produced
by the Protectorate of Cromwell in England or by the Great Eevolution in
France.
Odoacer
“King”—a.d. 476.—Odoacer was
“king.” and for fifteen years he ruled Italy strongly and well. He respected
and enforced the Imperial laws; he retained the Imperial officers, consuls,
prsefects, and the like. Though an Arian, he granted toleration to the
Catholics. He protected the Italian frontiers from the barbarians of Germany
and Gaul. He even crossed the Adriatic to recover Dalmatia, and passed the Alps
to reconquer Nori- cum. But years of decay are not to be repaired by so brief a
period of peace; and the state of Italy was only less miserable than it had
been.
Difficulties
in and out of Italy.—Ever since the days of Tiberius, slavery and absenteeism
had been work
ing tlieir
deadly effect. Population had steadily declined, as the means of subsistence
became scarcer, and had been further diminished by the incessant wars and
disorders of 200 years; while the loss of Egypt and Africa had suddenly cut
off the ordinary supply of corn for the great cities. Pope Gelasius now
repeated the complaint made eighty years before by St. Ambrose, that whole
districts in the Romagna and Tuscany were ruined and depopulated. And now, to
crown all, one-third of the soil was wrested from the impoverished landowners,
and bestowed (as in the times of Sulla and Augustus) on rude soldiers, who did
not, like the Visigoths in Gaul, bring wives and children and cattle with them,
and so form a genuine “ colony,” but being unused to husbandry and settled
life, soon tired of their bargain, and abandoned or sold what they did not care
to keep. It seemed, therefore, that many a farmer had been ruined to no
purpose; for the soldiers who dispossessed them were soon as poor as they—men
to whom revolution could mean nothing but gain, and who were, therefore, ripe
for revolution. For the moment, however, the danger was evaded by the
astuteness of Odoacer. There were two quarters from, which he might anticipate
interference— from the Visigoths in Gaul, and from Constantinople. The former
he pacified by ceding to them Narbonne, the last relic of Roman dominion beyond
the Alps. The alliance of the Emperor Zeno (a.d.
474-491) he won by a deeper stroke of policy. Zeno was very anxious
to interfere in the West, and there were two men at least who were equally
anxious to aid him in so doing. One of these was Julius Nepos, the ex-Emperor
of the "West, who had fled to Dalmatia, and was eager to regain his crown;
the other was Theodcric the Ostrogoth. Theodoric was the son of Theodemir, of
the royal race of the
ROM.
BMP. Xl
Amall (the
Immaculate), and had been brought up as a hostage at the Court of Byzantium.
Educated, indeed, he was not; for he never even learned to write; but contact
with civilisation awoke and stimulated his native genius, and produced that
happy combination of energy and wisdom, of power of will and respect for law,
which marked soon afterwards his peaceful reign in Italy. As yet, however, all
this was in the future, and Theodoric was only an ambitious man, with a
consciousness of latent power which he longed to use—a dangerous enemy, however,
should opportunity offer.
Odoacer
Subordinate to the Emperor.—With this trio of unquiet spirits Odoacer had to
cope—with Zeno, jealous of the independence of the West; with Nepos, ever
importuning him to act; with Theodoric, eager for some field of action. And
Odoacer was equal to the occasion. He too had an ex-Emperor in reserve in the
person of Eomulus Augnstulus. At Odoacer’s dictation, Bomulus instructed the
Eoman Senate to send an embassy to Constantinople, declaring that Italy was
weary of two Emperors, and asking Zeno to resume the Imperial power, and to
name Odoacer “ patrician ” and representative of the Emperor in Italy. At the
same time, as though an affirmative answer were certain, the Imperial insignia,
diadems, and purple, the- heirlooms of four centuries, were dispatched to
Constantinople to adorn perhaps some cabinet of curiosities in the Imperial
palace. Zeno graciously accepted the present, and assented to the petition as
far as regarded Odoacer, while reserving the rights of aSTepos—a reservation
which the patrician wisely ignored, and which was rendered useless by the murder
of Nepos (a.d. 480). Eor a time Odoacer was master
of Italy. And to Italy he presently added Sicily, which ho bought from the
Vandals.
Theodoric
sent to reduce Italy to Obedience —a.d. 488.—But it was only for a time. After
a peaceful reign of some ten or twelve years Odoacer was vanquished, and
Italy oppressed by a sudden irruption of Theodoric and the whole Ostrogothic
nation. It would be alike useless and wearisome to narrate in detail the
varying relations of Zeno and Theodoric, and the wretched intrigues and cabals
of the Eastern Court. Suffice it to say that, after a dozen quarrels, and as
many reconciliations, the enmity and the friendship of .the Ostrogoth became
equally burdensome to the Emperor of the East, who welcomed greedily, at last,
a proposal made twice before and twice rejected, that Theodoric should release
the province of Italy from the “ oppression ” (as it was styled) of the too
independent Odoacer. That Theodoric was ambitious has already been said; but
ambition was not now his only incentive. He was regarded as a natural leader,
not only by his own Ostrogoths, but by many another people inhabiting the
valley of the Danube; and while the Ostrogoths were chafing at the misery and
inaction of their life in Mcesia, and bitterly exclaiming against their king’s
luxurious and ignoble life at court, Rugians, Herulians, and others were
calling on him to avenge them upon the Italianised Odoacer, who had ventured
to attack and defeat them on their own side of the Alps. Ambition, shame, and
anger, therefore, combined to urge Theodoric to immediate action, while Zeno’s
assent relieved the East of a troublesome and domineering neighbour. The vast
host, numbering (it was said) 200,000 fighting men, besides women and children,
cattle and waggons, set out on its westward migration in the autumn of a.d. 488; and once again (as so
often before, and so often since in her unhappy history) Italy was to be the
prize of battle.
March
of Theodoric—a.d. 488-9.—The
line of march chosen by Theodoric was not the ordinary one by the valley of the
Save and the Julian Alps, but the shorter and more southern road leading
through Hlyricum to Dyrrachium. He hoped thus to escape the hardships of a
winter march over difficult ground; and knowing that there were vessels in
abundance on the coast, he expected to be able to seize them, to transport his
people across the Adriatic, while Odoacer was awaiting him in the North, and
thus to be master of Central and Southern Italy, and perhaps of Eome, before
his enemy could attack him. To this clever plan nothing was wanting but good
fortune. When the Goths, however, arrived on the Eastern coast, they found all
the vessels on which they had counted withdrawn, and the people bitterly
hostile. To retrace their steps, or to follow the coast line and so inarch to
Italy, seemed almost equal madness; while to remain in Dalmatia was certain
destruction. The second alternative was finally adopted. And so in the dead of
winter (a.d. 488-9) amid
snow and frost, over mountain ranges, across rivers and torrents, in the face
of enemies, and harassed by hunger and illness, the great host held its way
obstinately northwards, until they struck the valley of the Save near Emona.
They crossed the Alps, and halted to recover health and strength in the plain
between the rivers Sontius (Isonzo) and Erigidus (Wip- pach) before attacking
Odoacer.
Struggle
between Odoacer and Theodoric— a.d. 488-493.—The
struggle between Odoacer and Theodoric lasted for more than four years, and
was marked by three desperate battles, and a siege of nearly three years—a
struggle in which the material resources seem to have been mostly in Odoacer’s
hands, and only forfeited by his own recklessness, while it brought out into
strong relief
the daring and energy of Theodoric, and gave him without dispute the foremost
position in Italy. The first blow was struck by Theodoric (August 28, 189).
Odoacer had formed an intrenched camp on the Isonzo—as famous a battle field of
Italy as Leipsic has be'm of Germany—where Maximin had been defeated and slain
in a.d. 238; and Theodosius
had conquered Eugenius in a.d. 384;
and Attila had destroyed Aquilcia in a.d.
452. The intrenchments were carried, and Odoacer fled to Yerona.
Theodoric lost no time in following his enemy. On September 27 a pitched
battle was fought on the east bank of the Athesis (Adige), in which, after
desperate fighting, the Goths were again victorious; the Italian centre was
driven in and routed, their right wing was pushed into the river, Yerona was
taken, and Odoacer found refuge in Ravenna. Fifteen years afterwards the plain
was still white with the bones of the dead, to whom the Ostrogoth had forbidden
burial. Theodoric now styled himself “ Iving of Italy,” and then followed a
paper war of proclamations, recriminations, and appeals, each “king” striving
to enlist on his own side the hopes and fears of the people. The sympathies of
Italy were undoubtedly with Odoacer, rather than ■with his antagonist.
Theodoric had come unasked to interrupt a period of unwonted peace; and as for
Zeno, who was this pseudo-Caesar, that treated Italy and Eome like a piece of
private property to be passed from hand to hand! In spite, therefore, of many
just causes of complaint, the Italians clung to Odoacer; until in a fit of
anger, because the Romans refused to admit him to the city, and wished to stand
neutral in the strife, he ravaged the whole adjoining country, and alienated
the loyalty of his former friends. But for this he might have weathered the
storm; for what with the treachery
of allies,
and the disparity of strength, Theodoric’s position became so precarious, that
he was reduced to ask for support from his kinsmen, the Visigoths in Gaul.
Odoacer had even felt himself strong enough to besiege Theodoric in Pavia after
sacking Milan. A third great battle, however, was fought between the rival
kings on the Adda, near Milan (August 11, 490), in which the Ostrogoths were
again victorious, and Odoacer again was forced to flee to Eavenna, with its
sheltering marshes and pinewoods. Here for nearly three years he was blockaded
by Theodoric—a blockade only interrupted by one spirited attempt (which failed)
to carry off Theodoric bodily in the dead of night. Neither could exhaust the patience
of the other; each was harassed by famine and disease.
Convention
of Ravenna—a.d. 493.—At
last, on February 27, 493, a convention was concluded, through the mediation of
the Bishop of Eavenna, by which it was agreed that the two kings should share the
kingdom of Italy, either dividing the territory between them, or ruling in turn
after the ancient form of Consular Government. Theodoric entered Eavenna on
the 5th of March, the two armies and the two kings occupying different quarters
of the city.
Murder
of Odoacer.—It was, however, only a brief truce. Between two such men, in such
a position, peace was in fact impossible. Jealousy begot suspicion. There were
meetings of officers, rumours among soldiers and townspeople. Mischief was
evidently brewing, which nothing but loyal sincerity between Theodoric and Odoacer
could prevent. And this was wanting. A few days after his entry into Eavenna,
Theodoric invited Odoacer, his son, and principal officers to a grand banquet,
at which they were all murdered in cold blood, Odoacer by
Theodoric’s
own hand. And these murders were followed by a general massacre of all
Odoacer’s friends where- ever they were found. Theodoric was undisputed “ King
of Italy.”
It is
difficult to form a just judgment of so dreadful a beginning of a glorious
reign. Murder is never defensible; but the guilt of murder varies
indefinitely. Barbarians think lightly of bloodshed: and Theodoric was more
than half barbarian. In him lofty and almost heroic aspirations, and an
intellectual admiration of the higher virtues of civilisation, were grafted
upon the instincts of a savage. Attila was more merciful than Theodoric in
his fiercer moods; while his justice, toleration, and firmness as a ruler were
worthy of Trajan. The murder of Odoacer by Theodoric seems less odious in our
eyes than the judicial murder of Servetus by Calvin, in the name of conscience (a.d. 1553), far less wicked than
that of the Due d’Enghien by Napoleon, on the plea of self-defence (a.d. 1804). A man must be judged by
the standard of his own day; and neither to the Italians, who were familiarised
with horrors by years of war and revolution, nor to the Germans, who had been
used to human sacrifices, and still valued human life by a money standard,
would Theodoric’s act probably have seemed worse than a questionable deed
wrought in self-defence. Undoubtedly it is more to his glory to have risen
above the standard of his age in respect of toleration and political wisdom,
than it is to his shame to have sunk down to that standard in his regard for
human life.
Prosperous
Reign of Theodoric—a.d. 493-526.—
Theodoric was “ King of Italy ” during thirty-three years, —the happiest thirty
years which that country knew between the age of the Antonines (a.d. 138-180), and the time of Charles
the Great (about 800). While acknow
ledging in
words a nominal dependence on the Eastern Empire, he was in reality an
independent sovereign, and regarded himself as rightful heir of the Empire of
the West—“haeres Imperii, semper Augustus.” As Emperor in fact, though not in
name, he addressed words of counsel, encouragement, or remonstrance to the
neighbouring kings; while he carefully cultivated their alliance—himself
marrying the sister of Chlodwig, and giving one daughter in marriage to the King
of the Visigoths, and another to the King of the Burgundians. His sister
married the King of the Yandals, and his niece the King of the Thuringians. His
greatness is shown by these alliances, by the embassies which visited his court
from far distant countries, by the memory that was long cherished of his name
and deeds. He reduced to order the troubled districts of Pannonia and Noricum;
he repulsed an attack upon Italy of the Emperor Anastasius (a.d. 509); he maintained a close
friendship with the Visigoths, and even saved them from destruction at the
hands of Chlodwig (a.d. 507).
From Sicily to the Danube, from Sirmium to the Loire, the influence of
Theodoric was paramount, and Italy for a generation was exempt from the ravages
of war. That portion of the soil, which had been confiscated by Odoacer, was
given to the Ostrogoths—no mere army of occupation, but a “people” with arms in
their hands, men with wives and children and cattle, who meant to live in their
hard-won homes. In the government of Italy he made little or no change; the
functions and names of the old officials were carefully preserved; and he used
the services of the ablest Italians in all but military duties. Rome and the
great cities enjoyed in his reign order and plenty, while their works of art
and famous buildings were carefully protected. But in nothing perhaps was the
general pros
perity more
strikingly shown than in the sudden increase of wealth, and the great
development of industry. Agriculture revived; mines were opened and worked;
the Pontine marshes were drained and cultivated. These were the signs of
government of a high order—so high, indeed, that we are driven to ask, why the
work of a man so just and impartial, so wise and tolerant, was after all so
transitory, that it was in part undone before his death, and that in thirty
years hardly a trace of it was to he found1? The answer to this
question is threefold. Although Theod- oric’s avowed object was to fuse
Teutonic vigour with Eoman civilisation, a complete fusion of such diverse
elements must be a work of time, and needs mutual intercourse, intermarriage,
and community of religious faith to produce it; whereas the Ostrogoths in Italy
were a distinct nation, an aristocracy of conquest, whose separation from the
conquered was as jealously maintained as that of the Normans from the English
by William the Conqueror. And they were Arians, whom good Catholics were bound
to hate. If it required a century and a half to fuse English and Normans, Goths
and Italians coidd scarcely be amalgamated in thirty years ! For, deplore it as
we may, religious differences are more indelible than any others; and, however
they may be silenced for a while by a strong hand, are a constant source of
danger. Men who feel sure they are right in their views are often strangely
blind to the rights of others. Lastly, Theodoric’s was a single life, and his
work lacked continuity, which is indeed the special drawback of the rule of
one man. The more we praise the wisdom which triumphed over exceptional difficulties,
the more in such a case is it certain that the difficulties will recur, when
the great man is gone, and the wisdom to cope with them is withdrawn.
Close
of Theodoric’s Reign—a.d. 523-6.—The
last three years of a glorious reign were embittered by religious dissensions
and political persecution. Five years before the aged and tolerant Anastasius
was succeeded on the throne of Constantinople by the Dacian peasant Justin (a.d. 51S), whose accession put an
end to a schism of thirty-five years between East and West, and whose orthodoxy
acknowledged the supremacy of the Roman See. It was the signal for a
persecution of the Arians in the East, and even in Gaul. Italy alone was
exempt. But Theodoric could hardly see unmoved the rise of a spirit, which he had
done his best to hold in check; he was at once indignant and alarmed, and
addressed strong expostulations on the subject to Justin. At the same time
vague rumours began to reach Ravenna of a conspiracy against himself, involving
the whole Roman Senate—rumours only too likely to be true, when their place of
origin was Rome, and religious jealousy was running high. Theodoric’s heir,
too, was a child, whose only guardian would be a woman; while there was danger
to be dreaded from the known ambition and orthodoxy of Justin’s heir,
Justinian. The future, therefore, looked doubtful enough to justify suspicion,
which unhappily aroused the darker side of Theodoric’s character. Summary and
cruel vengeance was taken upon the leading members of the Senate. Boethius, the
greatest of living Italians, was imprisoned, tortured, and beaten to death.
Symmachus was executed Even Pope John died in prison. But it is best to draw a
veil over the last sad days of a really great man, in whom a fine intellect was
enfeebled and a generous temper soured by unforeseen anxieties, and by what
seemed to be the ingratitude of men for thirty years of uninterrupted benefits.
No man 'is made better by despotic power, be he ever so good or
able; and
while we lament the fierce deeds which have left a stain upon his memory, we
may well say of Theodoric, with the Gothic historian Procopius, that “ though
he was called a usurper and a tyrant, he was every inch a king”
THE EMPEROR
JUSTINIAN—A.D. 527-565.
Contrast
of East to West.—We pass abruptly from West to East—from a scene of vivid if
rude and barbarous energy, to a life better ordered, yet on the whole less
noble. Intrigue takes the place of war. The story of a Chrysostom or a
Theophilus, a Eudoxia or a Eutropius, is repeated till we are weary, while
barbarous chiefs patronise or tyrannise over a feeble Emperor, too weak to
resist and too indolent to resent it. From Arca- dius to Justin (a.d. 395-518) it
is the same tale with slight variations, whose ignoble course it is as useless
to follow as it is uninteresting to read. But in Justinian we come once more to
a man whose thoughts and life affected all after ages. It is not with elected
as it is with hereditary princes, who are for the most part cast in the same
mould. Elected rulers are in the majority of cases “great men,” embodiments in
a sense of their own age, who represent in miniature, yet with definiteness,
the vague and inarticulate tendencies of thousands of their fellows. Great men,
as Carlyle says, are “ profitable company.”
Justinian.—And
was Justinian great? Certainly, if the man who can conceive vast ideas and
carry them to a successful issue be great, Justinian deserves the name.
To him was
due the glory of the codification of Eoman law, of the recovery of Italy and
Africa to the Empire, of the repulse of attacks from Persians and Bulgarians.
The character of Justinian was a strangely mixed one, it is true. It piques our
curiosity. It is not necessary to believe half that the malicious “Anecdotes”
of Procopius recount of the weakness of Justinian, or of the shameless vice of
Theodora; and the deeds of his reign are before us to speak for themselves as
to his energy, industry, and perspicacity. Yet he was at once rapacious and
prodigal, ambitious and cowardly. Though a peasant born, and of barbarian
blood, he had very little of barbarian independence or peasant hardiness,
being guided by his wife’s more masculine spirit. He had far-reaching ideas,
and chose the fittest instruments to carry them into effect; but was too timid
or too jealous to allow them independence of action. In an age of great
warriors and ceaseless war, he had no military instincts, though (like Philip
the Second of Spain) he serenely appropriated the glory and the fruits of
struggles in which he took no part. However keen was his intellect, and
incredible his energy, yet his character leaves on the mind an impression of
pettiness; for he was neither liberal nor generous to his best friends —a man
to be neither much loved, nor much hated, nor much respected, yet undeniably “
great” intellectually.
Justinian’s
Rise.—The fortunes of Justinian arose out of the favour of his uncle Justin.
The latter, bom in Illyricum, and probably a Goth, had migrated to Byzantium
about a.d. 474.
He enlisted in the Imperial guard, rose rapidly from grade to grade, and on the
death of Anastasius (a.d. 518)
adroitly secured his own election as Emperor. Thus favoured by fortune, he lost
no time in summoning to court his sister Beglenitza, her husband Istok, and
their son Uprauda,—which barbarous names,
too harsh for
polite ears, were presently exchanged for Vigilantia, Sabbatius, and
Justinianus. The young man, stimulated by the new and polished life around him,
threw himself with ardour into his uncle’s plans, and astonished his masters by
his intelligence, curiosity, and untiring activity of mind. Poetry and music,
law and theology, architecture and strategy—he studied, if he did not master
them all. To Justinian knowledge was a passion. But there was a stronger
passion even than knowledge, which mastered him before his uncle’s death (a.d. 527), and to which he remained
subject all his life. He fell in love with the famous dancer Theodora, whose
dubious character and enchanting beauty were alike the talk of the town. But in
spite of her repute, in spite of his mother and uncle, and in the teeth of the
law which forbade such marriages, he married her, and remained her devoted
husband ever after. She repaid him, indeed, with no small benefits. If her life
had been vicious, if she was still a proud and domineering woman, yet she
possessed a keen intellect, a powerful judgment, and a rapidity of decision,
which more than once stood Justinian in good stead.
Description
of Justinian.—Justinian was above middle height, with regular features and a
high colour. His manner was self-possessed and gracious; his life was
temperate, or even ascetic. Indolent and irresolute in action, he was
restlessly diligent in business. Being troubled with sleeplessness, he devoted
great part of the night to the affairs of Church and State, or paced up and
down the galleries of the palace, shaping the great ideas ■which it was
his good fortune to see realised. It is hardly strange that the popular
imagination saw in him a demon in human form, who needed neither sleep nor
food. He was an indefatigable builder both of palaces and churches, notably of
the famous church of St. Sophia. He strength
ened and
increased the fortifications of the Empire, especially on the Danube and the
Persian frontier. He had hardly mounted the throne before he began his great
work of legislation, which both in importance and in the effects it produced,
far surpassed the brilliant victories of his generals. It was a work much
needed, to analyse and codify the mass of law and legal opinions which had
grown up in 1000 years. The attempt had been made more than once, but with only
partial success. It was reserved for Justinian to complete it. The matter was
intrusted to a large commission, presided over by the famous lawyer Tribonian,
and was begun in the Emperor’s first year, a.d.
528. The first section of the business, the Code, was in fact a
revision of the imperfect code published in a.d.
430 by Theodosius II., the lapse of a century having rendered
addition and retrenchment alike necessary, and it was accomplished in fourteen
months. This was followed by the Digest or Pandects, containing the gist of the
opinions and writings of the most eminent Eoman lawyers, the continuous labour
of three years (a.d. 530-33).
Most important of all were the Institutes, dealing with the elements or first
principles of Eoman law. These three—the Code, the Digest, and the Institutes,
together with the Novellas or successive supplements to the Code (a.d. 534-565)—formed the “ Corpus
Juris Civilis ” (Civil Law).
The Nika
Riot—a.d. 532.—In spite,
however, of the unremitting efforts of the Emperor and of the glories of his
reign, his home government was as weak as that oi any of his predecessors or
successors. One crowning instance will serve as a specimen—a mere city riot,
arising from a trivial cause, which nearly cost him his throne. The drivers of
the chariots in the Hippodrome were divided into “factions,” distinguished by
their colours—
the “ white,”
“ red,” “ green,” and “ blue.” The “ green ” faction had been identified with
the cause and the scarcely orthodox opinions of the late Emperor Anastasius;
the “ blue” was strictly orthodox, and devoted to Justinian. Hence between the
two was bitter rivalry, extending, moreover, from the drivers to their
relations and friends. The whole city was divided into hostile camps, until at
last the “blues” ventured, under cover of favour at court, to proceed to open
violence. They paraded the streets in bands at night. Ere long, joined by all
the dissolute youth of a great capital, they plundered, beat, even murdered
their enemies. The example spread. A dangerous spirit of lawless violence
became the fashion. Terrorism was brought to bear on private enemies, on
creditors, on judges, on masters. The unhappy “greens,” meanwhile, persecuted
by their enemies and unprotected by the laws, were forced to resist in
self-defence, whilst any magistrate who was just enough to shelter them with
his protection had soon reason to repent of his untimely zeal. The Empress had
an ancient grudge against the “ green” faction from her theatrical days, and
she neither forgot nor forgave an insult. Erom the Court, therefore, they could
expect no favour. At last (a.d. 532)
an unfortunate accident set the smouldering animosity in a blaze, which laid a
great part of the capital in ruins, and cost the lives of hundreds of citizens.
It is a scene almost worthy of the great Erench Revolution—almost as chaotic
and bewildering. The Emperor was seated in the Hippodrome celebrating the
festival of the Ides of January (13th). But the games were perpetually
interrupted by the clamour of the “ green” faction, until exasperated almost to
madness, the “blues” rose from their seats as one man, and the “greens” fled
for their lives. At this moment of frenzy, the mutual hatred of the factions
was turned into
The
Emperor Justinian
a common
hatred of the government by a passing accident. Two murderers condemned to
death, but rescued from fate by the breaking of a rope, were hurried into “
sanctuary” by the monks of a neighbouring convent. One of them was “ blue,”
the other “ green.” The rival factions, united for the moment by a similar
indignation, and each anxious to save its man, made common cause, delivered
their prisoners, opened the prisons, burnt the Prsefect’s palace, and did not
scruple to attack the troops sent to repress the riot. The fire spread, and
reached even the cathedral. Women took a ferocious part in the struggle,
showering stones from roof and window. So threatening, indeed, was the state of
affairs, that many wealthy families escaped across the Bosporus from the
horrors of a five days’ street fight, and that even Justinian contemplated
flight and abdication. From this fatal step he was saved by the firmness of
Theodora, and in hardly a less degree by the military promptitude of a great
general, Bclisarius. A terrible lesson was given to a fickle population, by a
general massacre in the Hippodrome, and by the execution of a score of nobles
who had tried to use the opportunity for restoring the family of Anastasius.
The Hippodrome itself was closed, to hear no more for several years the
watchword of “victory” (vlko) of the rival factions which gave its name to this
riot.
Belisarius
compared to Marlborough.—The name of Belisarius recalls us to whrt in the eyes
of his contemporaries was probably the great glory of Justinian’s reign, the
African and Italian campaigns. For Belisarius as “ signally retrieved” the
glory of the Empire in the sixth century as Marlborough that of England in the
eighteenth. ' There is, indeed, a strange likeness between the two men, not
only of character, but even in their very lives. Each was the devoted husband
of an imperious, passionate, and
ROM.
BMP. M
ambitious
woman. Each, felt the bitterness of disgrace, though Marlborough probably
deserved to suffer what Belisarius suffered undeserved. Each triumphed over
jealousy and obstructions by the same qualities of calmness, and good sense,
and a serene temper. Each was perfectly fearless and unflurried in the face of
danger, the very life and soul of the armies which they led. We may say with
truth, that each seemed to combine two characters in one person; for in each
case he who in the field was calm, clear headed, and more than a match for
every foe, was in civil life infirm and pusillanimous, greedy alike of honours
and of money, a friend whose fidelity was doubtful. If Marlborough was the
greater soldier of the two, Belisarius was the purer character. It could not
indeed be said of him, as it was of Marlborough, that he never besieged a
fortress which he had not taken, nor fought a battle which he had not won, yet
neither could he be accused of having enriched himself by base means, or of
having sold State secrets to his sovereign’s enemies.
African
Campaign of Belisarius—a.d. 533.—Belisarius
(Beli-tzar, the White Prince) was probably of Slavonian origin, and born in a
little village of Illyria, called “ Germania.” At an early age he entered on
military life in the “ Guards” of Justinian. Entrusted with an independent
command in Armenia, he was the first to turn the tide of victory against the
Persians, and with far inferior numbers to defeat a foe flushed with conquest,
and to relieve the province of Syria from invasion (a.d. 529-532). It was a great exploit, significant of powers
above the common; and when the African expedition was in preparation (a.d. 533), the name of Belisarius
was in all mouths as the fittest leader of so grave an undertaking. Indeed, the
African campaign was one
of those
things which are only justified by success. The Emperor in proposing it met
with general opposition. Old men, still living, could remember the shame and
the losses of the expedition of Basiliscus (a.d.
468), and feared a repetition of the blunder. Troops, wearied with
five campaigns against the Persians, shrank from the thought of a long sea
voyage, and of a climate and enemy alike unknown; while ministers of finance
calculated with apprehension the heavy expenses of so immense an undertaking,
and the dubious possibilities of meeting them. To these various objections
Justinian opposed a superior knowledge, or a superior obstinacy, based upon a
truer insight into the facts of the case. And his wisdom was proved by success.
Yet prior to the event few undertakings could have seemed less likely to
succeed, and to succeed with such rapidity and ease.
Position
of the Vandals.—When Genseric died in a.d.
477,
the Vandals were absolute masters of the splendid province of Africa. They had
sacked Eome. They swept the Mediterranean with their fleets. They even
threatened Constantinople. There was no barbarian nation that seemed to have so
commanding a position, so glorious a future. Yet in the fifty years that
elapsed between Genseric and Justinian, their Empire, which still looked as
powerful as ever, had become honeycombed by luxury, inaction, and religious and
social strife. To the Vandals Carthage became a second Capua. "When the
strong hand was withdrawn, that had kept up the healthy stir of battle and the
excitement of conquest, they relapsed into the vices of semi-civilised life. In
religion they were fanatics, and persecuted the orthodox Catholics, thus
preparing for their enemies eager allies in the time of need. Lastly, to
prevent the strife of brothers so common in the division of an inheritance,
Genseric had
ordained in
his will, that the eldest male member of the royal family for the time being
should sit upon the Yandal throne, just as the law of Turkey ordains now. His
kinsmen, the English, were wiser in Britain, when they made the English
kingship elective, but restricted the election as a rule to a particular royal
family. For Genseric’s plan failed as wholly as the English plan succeeded. It
issued almost of course in jealousies and assassination. Thus Huneric succeeded
Genseric in a.d. 476, and
steadily set himself at once to prepare for his own son’s succeeding him, by
destroying all who might stand in his way. And in a.d. 523, when Trasimund died, who had married
Amalafrida, the daughter of the great Theodoric, and was succeeded by Hilderic,
the eldest member of the family, Amalafrida, unable to bear the prospect of
private life, tried to seize the throne; but was defeated, imprisoned, and,
after her father’s death (a.d. 526),
beheaded,—a fate which was shared by many of her countrymen. Hilderic,
however, was incompetent. Brought up at the Byzantine court, he was more Greek
than Yandal, and shrank from war and the fierce persecuting spirit of his
subjects.. A friend of Justinian, and tolerant to Catholics, he was no friend
of Arian Yandals; and Gelimer, the next heir, easily supplanted him (a.d. 530).
Africa
Reduced in Three Months.—No doubt Justinian was well aware of this weakness
which political and religious dissension had brought upon the Vandal kingdom,
and adroitly used Gelimer’s usurpation as a pretext for interference. A force
of 10,000 infantry and
5,000 cavalry, of 500 transports and 20,000
seamen, was collected, and set out from Constantinople in June (a.d. 533). By the close of the year
the Vandal Empire was at an end, and Africa was once more a province of the
Eoman Empire for 150 years. It was a curious mixture
of races
which Belisarius led to the conquest of the once terrible Vandals,—Greeks and
Goths, Alani and Par- thians, Huns and Syrians. It was a proof of military
genius in itself to maintain the discipline and combine the operations of such
an ill-assorted host. Three months, however, after leaving the capital, the
fleet sighted the coast of Africa, having touched in passing at the coasts of
Messenia and Sicily. It is a strange fact, which needs explanation, that it was
allowed to reach Africa without attack. Heavy laden transports, and soldiers
little used to the sea, would have fallen an easy prey. Why were the Vandals so
remiss? Why did not the Ostrogoths help their brothers in distress ? The answer
is short and ready. The Ostrogoths, indignant at the murder of Amalafxida and
her friends, were eager for revenge, and ready therefore to aid, not Gelimer,
but Belisarius; while Gelimer had detached his brother with 5000 veteran troops
to reduce Sardinia. At the critical moment, therefore, he was without his best
troops and without allies, while the friends of Hilderic and the orthodox
Catholics were his all but open enemies. No wronder that the
struggle was virtually over in three months.
The army
landed on September 22 at Caput Vada, on the coast of Byzacium, five days’
march to the south of Carthage. A proclamation of Belisarius, that he had come
as a “ liberator,” and the discipline of his troops, won the people’s good
will, and made the advance safe and easy to within ten miles of Carthage. The
capital at this time had no fortifications. A battle in its defence, therefore,
was imperative. But Gelimer’s army was beaten in detail, and fled in confusion
towards Numidia; while Belisarius entered Carthage in triumph the next day, the
feast of St Cyprian, its patron saint. It was a marvellous revolution, yet so
quietly accomplished, that trade did not
cease for a
day, nor was a shop shut. Meanwhile Gelimer hurriedly recalled his brother from
Sardinia, and prepared for the decisive struggle. His numbers were vastly
superior, but they were more than outweighed by the genius of Belisarius. The
battle was fought on the banks of a rivulet, twenty miles south-west of Carthage,
and was fiercely contested; but was in the end so decisive, that Gelimer fled
alone from the field, his army was scattered to the winds, and the camp taken,
with all the women, children, and treasure. From December to March a.d. 534, Gelimer was an outcast in
Kumidia, until at last, after sustaining with a few faithful followers a hard
siege in a mountain fastness, he surrendered at discretion, and being carried
to Carthage, was transported by Belisarius, with many of his countrymen and
with vast treasures, to adorn the first triumph ever seen in the city of
Constantine. “ Vanity of vanities ! all is vanity,” such is said to have been
his comment on what he had seen. And indeed it is the fittest comment on the
Vandal history. Gelimer was allowed to retire to an estate in Galatia, and numerous
Vandals were drafted into the armies of the East. But the Vandal nation,
numbering before the war
600,000 persons, vanishes henceforth from history;
and Africa, like Italy, was ruled by an “Exarch” from Constantinople.
Pretext
for the Invasion of Italy.—Two years elapsed, and once more the great general
of Justinian was engaged in a struggle, more arduous and not less glorious,
with the Ostrogoths in Italy. In the ten years which had elapsed since the
death of Theodoric, the same causes had been at work to undermine the Gothic
power which had undermined the Vandal power in Africa. As in Africa so in
Italy, Catholics hated Arians and Arians hated Catholics. In Italy as in Africa
jwlitical dissensions
paralysed
national strength. Amalasontha, daughter of Theodoric, had been regent for her
son Athalaric, whom she loved only too well, and strove to train for his future
greatness. But he was dull and self-willed; and as he grew older was easily
led into resenting a woman’s dictation, and breaking away from her influence,
flung himself into debauchery, which speedily killed him. But Amalasontha had
enemies besides her son. And when, after his death, she married her cousin
Theodatus, but retained in her own hands the substance of the regal power,
keeping her husband in the background, he was led by evil counsellors and his
own jealous resentment into conspiring against her. This able daughter of a
great father, the victim of spite and jealousy, was arrested, imprisoned in an
island of the lake of Bolsena (Etruria), and finally strangled in her bath
(April 30, 535). Theodatus was king at last; but the insecurity of his position
may be realised by reflecting on the crimes which had placed him there, the
avarice and cowardice of his character, and the disaffection of his Catholic
subjects.
Belisarius
Reduces Sicily and South Italy— a.d. 53G.—Meanwhile
Justinian eagerly caught at this excuse for intervention, this opportunity of
reclaiming yet another province for the Empire. His ambassador to Italy loudly
protested against the murder of Theodoric’s daughter, while he observed with
satisfaction the dissensions of the Goths, and doubtless reported to his
master the ripeness of the times. Once more Belisarius steered westwards.
Hardly had he cast anchor off Catana before he discovered that the whole island
of Sicily was like a ripe apple ready to fall into his hands; and this, the
first province of the Boman Republic, was reincorporated with the Empire
without a blow. A second time Belisarius appeared as “ liberator,” to set free
Romans from the yoke
of
barbarians, Catholics from the tyranny of Arians. A few brief and fruitless
negotiations were followed by the invasion of Italy. Leaving garrisons in
Palermo and Syracuse, Belisarius landed at Rhegium, arid marching 300 miles
along the coast through a well-affected population, besieged and took Naples.
From Naples he was invited by the clergy and Senate to occupy Rome,—a matter of
no difficulty, as Theodatus had been murdered, and the scattered Gothic forces
had retired to Ravenna and the north to concentrate for the linal struggle.
Belisarius entered Rome on December 10, a.d.
536, and the keys of the city were sent to Justinian.
Siege
of Rome by the Ostrogoths—a.d. 537.—
But the triumph was short-lived. In the following March Yitiges returned with
150,000 Goths, and crossing the Apennines, appeared before the walls of Rome.
The numbers were so unequal, the time for preparation had been so short, that
everything seemed lost; but it was at a crisis such as this that the resource
and coolness of Belisarius were most marked. Of him it might well be said, that
his presence was worth 100,000 men. He had but a few thousand men in the city,
and what volunteers he could inspire with his own enthusiasm and courage, to
guard fortifications, whose extent was at least twelve miles. The walls
themselves in parts were in ruins. Yet Rome held out successfully for more than
a year, thanks to the strong arm, clear head, and unfailing calmness of one
man, and one man only, who united strategical genius and mastery of detail to
dashing and audacious bravery in the field. The Gothic numbers were not
sufficient to surround the city, the blockade reaching only from the Yatican to
the Proenestine Gate; and on this side it was that on the nineteenth day of the
siege (March 31, a.d. 537)
a simultaneous attack was directed on seven points at
once.
Repeated assaults were met by an obstinate resistance; and only once, near the
gate of Proeneste, did the defence waver for a moment. At nightfall the Goths
retired, with a loss (it was said) of 30,000 men. Whether this were so or not,
it is clear that the result was a heavy blow to the besiegers; for it was the
first and last assault attempted, and the siege became little more than an
indolent blockade. Nevertheless the superiority of numbers told outside. Porto
fell. Entrenched camps were established by the enemy to the north and south of
the city. Provisions became scarce; and the frequent sallies, though mostly
successful, contributed little beyond honour. And with distress began
disaffection within the walls, and with disaffection came treachery. A letter
was intercepted, which promised the Gothic king that the Asinarian Gate should
be opened to his troops. Nor was this all. The dangerous discontent within the
walls was adroitly used by Antonina, Belisarius’ wife, to forward the wishes of
the Empress. Pope Silverius had thwarted Theodora; and was now accused of
"treasonable correspondence with the Goths, and degraded; while an unscrupulous
and ambitious deacon, Vigilius, was placed upon the Papal throne, who would
probably be more compliant.
At last,
after urgent demands, reinforcements reached Belisarius from Constantinople of
some 7000 men; and negotiations began in consequence, which were the precursors
of the raising of the siege. At the same time the general felt himself strong
enough to detach 2000 cavalry to operate in Picenum against the Gothic
communications with Ravenna, and to seize if possible the many families and
large treasures there deposited.
Siege
Raised—a.d. 538.—This last blow was decisive; and Vitiges, after
one more attempt to surprise and
storm the
walls, which was vigorously repulsed, withdrew hurriedly across the Tiber and
along the Flaminian Road. So great was the demoralisation of the once vast
army, that even Ariminum, of which Vitiges formed the siege as he passed
northwards, and which was defended only by a low rampart and shallow ditch,
held out against him long enough to be relieved by Belisarius in person. The
Goths fled in confusion to Ravenna; and all Italy, south of the Po, gave
willing allegiance to Justinian.
Pall of
Ravenna—a.d. 539.—Italy was
virtually regained; and the power of the Ostrogoths would soon have been
destroyed, but for the mutual jealousy of the Roman generals. Belisarius was
too great to escape envy, too great also to resent it: yet the violence of a
Constantine, and the interference or independence of a Narses, paralysed the
operations of the Roman army, and gave the Goths time to rally what force they
could; while a sudden inroad into ISTorth Italy of 100,000 Pranks, under
Theodebert their king, added to the general confusion. As before, however, so
now, Belisarius triumphed over difficulties. Jealousies were smoothed over.
Rivals were pacified. Town after town was besieged and taken, which had still
been held by the Goths. Finally, Ravenna itself was blockaded. Gradually
reduced to extremities, yet lost in admiration of their victor, the Ostrogoths
(ignoring Vitiges their king) opened negotiations with Belisarius, and
promised to support him, if he would throw Justinian over, and seize the crown
of Italy. Belisarius saw his opportunity, and promised to consider the matter.
Meanwhile a day and hour was fixed for the surrender of Ravenna: a fleet laden
with food was sent in to relieve immediate wants; and at the time fixed the
Roman army marched in unresisted, and took possession of the capital, without
their general being in any way
pledged
(December, a.d. 539). It
was then too late to oppose what they had themselves invited. Belisarius declined
the proffered honour, perhaps had never intended to accept it: Yitiges was sent
to Constantinople : the flower of the Gothic warriors was enlisted in the
Imperial ser- vico; the residue were dismissed to the south provinces; and an
Italian colony was planted in Eavenna. The example of the capital was speedily
followed by the smaller towns, that still held out, with the exception of
Pavia; and thus the whole of Italy was reincorporated with the Empire.
Recall
of Belisarius.—It was a wonderful reverse of fortune, which ten years before
would have been thought impossible; and yet the great man to whom it was mainly
due was pursued by envy and calumny, and was recalled by Justinian from a
sphere “no longer (it was said) worthy of his presence.” The Gothic spoil was
appropriated for the Imperial palace, and Belisarius was denied a second
triumph; yet it is satisfactory to know that the hearty admiration of the
people made up for the chilling civility and faint praises of Court circles.
Eor indeed it was no common thing which Belisarius had done. It was something
to have maintained military discipline, without losing the affection of his
soldiers: it was more to have won the respect and admiration of populations
among whom he came as conqueror. In an age not distinguished for virtues,
either political or social, he was just, liberal, modest, and chaste. He was
daring without rashness, prudent without fear; and by the combination of the highest
qualities of a general had recovered in little more than six years the
provinces of Africa and Italy.
Revolt
of the Goths—a.d. 544.—Belisarius
was recalled, and sent to the East; and the settlement of
Italy was
left to his successors. But three years’ experience of the tender mercies of
Greek “governors” was more than enough; and when Totila (Todilas, “the deathless”)
issued from Pavia to reclaim the Gothic kingdom, town after town from north to
south welcomed him as deliverer. Once more at the Emperor’s command Belisarius
turned his face westwards. But Imperial jealousy or parsimony refused him the
sinews of war: Rome was twice taken (a.d.
546-549), once under his very eyes; and once recovered by him,
though but for a while (a.d. 547).
For the most part, he was left with the hopeless task of calculating what he
could do, if he had the necessary force; or of collecting forces, when it was
too late to use them. In a.d. 548
he returned bo Constantinople, leaving Totila master of Italy, and with the mortification
of abandoning what he knew could be so easily recovered. But although he was
jealous of his general, Justinian was not inclined to acquiesce in the loss of
Italy, so lately recovered.
Narses in
Italy—a.d. 552.—A fresh
force was raised, and entrusted first to Germanus, the Emperor’s nephew, and on
his death to Narses, the eunuch, who marched into Italy, defeated Totila in a
pitched battle about midway between Rome and Ravenna, in which Totila was
mortally wounded (a.d. 552),
and besieged and took Rome. One more campaign against Teias, the last king of
the Ostrogoths—one more victory in Campania, and the work was accomplished.
Italy was for the third time reunited to the Empire; and Narses was for fifteen
years (a.d. 554-568) Exarch
of Ravenna, lieutenant of the Eastern Empire in Italy.
Conclusion.—Henceforth
the Ostrogothic nation disappears from history; and the glory of the name “
Goth ” is reserved for the Visigoths. Twice before had the same
thing
happened. Etrnscans and Carthaginians vanished from the earth as separate
nations, leaving little behind them but a few medals and inscriptions. Only, we
must remember, it is the vanishing of a name, and not necessarily of a
nation—the bearers of the name being absorbed in the population which they have
ceased to rule. This absorption or conquest of the Goths in Italy was to a
great degree the work of the Catholic clergy— one of the early steps in that
fatal policy of the Papacy, which has always resisted the union of Italy under
one native kingdom, whether Gothic, Lombard, Norman, or Piedmontese. And
whatever may have been the conspicuous merits of the generals who achieved it,
it is the opinion of an Italian authority that greater evil was inflicted upon
Italy by the Grecian reconquest, than by any other invasion.1 It was
disastrous in its immediate and more remote consequences. The country was
worse, not better governed; and in after years, the irruption of the Lombards,
the invasion of the Eranks, the usurpation of the Popes, and the separation of
Eastern and Western Christendom, are events for which it was indirectly
responsible.
1
Gibbon, Milman’s Edition, vol. iv. p. 150, note.
THE EMPIRE IN
RELATION TO THE BARBARIANS OF THE EAST—A.D. 45^650.
Subject
of the Chapter.—The relations of the Roman Empire of the East to the barbarous
nations on its northern, eastern, and south-eastern frontiers, during the two
centuries following Attila’s death, will be the subject of this chapter. It is
a chequered story of frequent disaster, illumined at intervals by heroic
deeds. We have names yet more barbarous, barbarians yet more brutal than any
hitherto met with; but the knowledge of their origin, and fortunes is
important, because in some cases they occupied lands which their descendants
still possess, and in almost all cases they largely affected the subsequent
history of Europe.
Results
of the Death of Attila—a.d. 453.—The death of Attila (a.d. 453) was followed by a struggle of
several years for mastery between the Aryan and Turanian portions of his Empire.
Though the question at issue was too vital to be settled by a single battle,
yet the victory of Netad did virtually decide that Europe was to belong to
Aryans, by rolling backwards the threatening wave of blank barbarism for a
while, and by giving the nobler races time to consolidate their forces, and to
assimilate the civilisation of Western Europe, before another
struggle was
necessary. But the Turanians did not quietly acquiesce in their defeat. More
than once the Huns attacked the Gepidae and Ostrogoths, though always without
success. They were compelled to yield to superior strength; and the sons of
Attila—Dengizikh, Hernakh, and Emnedzar—became kings of three separate Hunnish
nations, reaching from the Lower Danube to the Carpathians, and from thence to
the Don (Tanais). They were sometimes at peace, more often at war with their
Roman neighbours to the south. The death of Dengizikh (about a.d. 470) was the signal of universal
confusion among the tribes to the north of the Danube, and of a general
rearrangement of their mutual relations. We have tribes with familiar names
occupying new ground, and new tribes with strange names appearing on the
scene, and pressing westward and southward.
Dangers on
the Frontiers—a.d. 500.—If we take
the boundaries of the Eastern Empire about a.d.
500— the Danube, the Euxine, the Caucasus, Armenia, and the Euphrates—there was
scarcely a point in this immense frontier which was not threatened by some
enemy, and needed constant watching. And there was not strength enough in the
Empire for successful resistance. Again and again Moesia, Illyricum, Greece,
were overrun by destroying hordes. More than once Constantinople was
threatened, attacked, besieged. Armenia was a constant battlefield. And in the
south-east Persia, ruled by an ambitious dynasty, was always encroaching on the
frontier.
The Middle
Danube.—The middle Danube was now a German river. In Pannonia were Ostrogoths,
reaching from Vienna to Belgrade (Singidunum) and Illyricum. On the eastern and
northern banks, as far as the Carpathians, lay the Gepidaa and the Lombards.
On the northern banks of the river to the east of Singidunum, and
•within the
territory of the Gepidse, was a large population of different origin. They were
the descendants of the old Roman colonists, who had flocked there 400 years
before, after Trajan’s conquest of Dacia, and whose children had refused to
leave their homes when Aurelian abandoned the province (a.d. 270). These men had endured with sullen persistence
the tender mercies of successive barbarians, but clung through them all to
their land—the land which their children still occupy. They called themselves
Romans; but as in Britain, so in Dacia, the German conquerors called these
“men of a strange tongue,” Wealh or Welsh. And hence came the double name of
their country, Roumania and Wallachia.
Eastern
Danube and North Coast of the Euxine.—In what is now the Dobrudscha, near the
mouth of the Danube, and from thence as far as the Dnieper (Danapris) was a
mixed horde of Huns, the remnant of Attila’s host, and of a cognate Finnish
race, the Bulgarians (Youlgar). The Empire had good cause during the seventh
century to shudder at this name, the synonym for all that was brutal and
treacherous. The original home of the people, where indeed the bulk of them
were still settled, was the upper waters of the river Etel, called afterwards
by their name, the Volga. But, already in the days of the great Theodoric, one
of their hordes had been met and defeated by him in the plain of the Dniester (Danaster);
and it must have been clear to all who had eyes to see, that there was danger
to the Empire in that quarter. The very religion which they professed was of
the lowest type. It was that1 “
Shamanism,” which still prevails, as the sole religion of thousands in
North-Eastern Asia—a religion, or more properly speaking a “ terror,” inspired
by the awful phenomena of
1 Cf. Kennan’s Tent Life in Siberia, cap.
20.
nature, among
which they live, and consisting in the propitiation of the evil spirits supposed
to he embodied therein, the spirits of ice and wind, of volcanoes and aurora.
As in the religion, so in the people, there was something almost diabolical and
less than human. Their ferocity and treachery were alike unparalleled. And by
their side the Huns, who had been in contact with Roman civilisation for nearly
a century, seemed civilised.
Huns on the
Tanais.—Beyond the Dnieper, and on each side of the Don (Tanais), were settled
two hordes of “ white ” Huns, called respectively Cutriguri and Utiguri, in all
probability a fusion of Finns and Ugrians (Igours or Ogors): to the latter of
whom, and their terrible reputation in less barbarous countries, we owe the
familiar “ Ogres ” of our children’s story books.
The
Slavonians.—To the north and north-west of Huns and Bulgarians, between the
Dnieper, the Carpathians, and the Baltic, lay a scattered though numerous
popidation, who were called “Slaves” (Sclavi, Sthloveni, 2/<Aa/?oi), and
were possibly Aryan by origin, certainly very far removed from Turanians. They
were divided into three tribes—Antes in the south-east, Sloveni in the centre,
and Wends or Venedi on the Baltic. The name is derived from “ Slova,” “
speech,” and is defined as meaning “those who speak the same language.” As a
term of identification, therefore, it was the opposite of Welsh, or foreigner.
Like the Romans of Wallachia, the Slaves had for generations been subject to
nations fiercer or stronger than themselves; but when the centrifugal force of
disruption after the battle of INTetad drove the Huns to the East, and
precipitated the Goths across the Danube, the Slaves for once were left without
a master, and began to act a part of their own in history. The Slavonian
character was a counterpart of their history.
ROM. EMP.
N
Less fiery
than Germans, less brutal than Huns or Bulgarians, they had the apathetic,
lazy, yet hospitable, habits of a serf population, subject to alternations of
violent ferocity. Even in war their tactics were not the tactics of freemen.
There Was no combination or plan of operation. The fighting was individual;
and they excelled in ambushes and surprises. Of cleanliness or self-restraint,
of modesty or religious feeling, they had only the faintest trace.
Avars,
Turks, &c., in Eastern Europe.—Ostrogoths, Lombards, Gepidse, Slaves,
Huns, and Bulgarians— it was a formidable mass, if only in dead weight, against
which to defend a long river frontier. But there were other tribes and
confederations of tribes in the far north-east and the steppes of Asia
beginning to move westwards, whose pressure was already making itself felt, and
whose names figure largely in after liistory—Avars, Hungarians, Turks, and
Mongols. Of the first of these more will be said presently. The last three did
not affect the history of Europe till some centuries later.
Persia.—The
south-eastern frontier was another weak point of the Empire. Here lay the great
kingdom of Persia, stretching from the Indus to the Euphrates, from the
Caucasus to the Persian Gidf, and conterminous with the Empire from Colchis to
the Upper Euphrates. For 1000 years that part of Asia had been the seat of a
great Empire. The first Persian monarchy, founded by Cyrus (b.c. 558), and
overthrown by Alexander of Macedon (b.c.
330), had given place to a Greek kingdom; which meant, in fact, only
the supremacy of Greeks over alien and heterogeneous populations. Against this
supremacy the Turanian Parthians successfully revolted under Arsaces (b.c. 255), and gradually
established a powerful Empire of their own in its place (b.c. 174). It was these Parthians,
with whom the Romans of the later
Republic and
early Empire were so often at war, and whom Horace calls indifferently
Parthians, Medes, and Persians. But the influence of Greece in the East was not
destroyed by the downfall of the Greek kingdom, any more than the influence of
Rome in the West was destroyed by the downfall of the Western Empire. Greek
ideas, customs, and fashions bad spread, and modified even the religion of the
upper and learned classes. Zoroastrianism was losing its hold on them. But the
mass of the people clung to the belief of their fathers, and shrank from the
civilisation of the West as much as Orientals of the present day. A reaction
set in; of which Ardshir (Artaxerxes), son of Sassan, cleverly availed himself,
and a successful revolt against Parthian domination restored to the Persians
their old supremacy (a.d. 226).
It was a revolt partly of Aryans against Turanians,* partly of conservative
feeling against innovations. Greek influence was stamped out, Greek ideas were
opposed, whenever and wherever it was possible. The dynasty of the Sassanidfe
was in a special sense “national” and based its power and popularity on that
ground. It was also an ambitious and conquering dynasty, bent on enlarging and
extending its boundaries, and hence constantly at war with Rome; from whom,
indeed, in a.d. 430 half
Armenia had been wrested, and who in the sixth century seemed about to lose
Syria and Palestine as well
Barbarian
Irruptions across the Danube—a.d. 500-560.—The
pressure southwards from the nations along the Danube was constant and almost
irresistible, and the sufferings of the Roman provincials from barbarian
inroads so cruel, that it is a wonder the inhabitants of capital and provinces
alike did not rise as one man to defend themselves; but the latter were cowed
by sad experiences, and the former absorbed in weighing the
comparative
shades of heresy in a N’estorius and a Eutyches. Meanwhile, however, the danger
was pressing. In a.d. 499,
a combined horde of Huns, Wends, and Bulgarians crossed the Danube on the ice,
crushed a Boman army with the loss of one-fourth of its numbers, and then
retired with its booty. In a.d. 517
the invasion was repeated; and in a.d.
530, and in a.d. 533.
In a.d. 538, while
Belisarius was in Italy, Gothic intrigues precipitated the same people again
across the Danube; and we may gather what was implied in such an irruption, if
we try to realise the vast numbers of unoffending farmers and citizens involved
in a plundering foray, which extended from the Chersonese to the Adriatic, and
from the Danube to Corinth, and in which even Asia Minor suffered heavily. In
the absence of soldiers, courage, discipline, and patriotism, 'the Emperors
did what they could. Anastasius carried a stone rampart of fifty miles in
length from the Euxine to the Propontis, at a distance of forty miles from the
capital, to guard it against a surprise. Justin strengthened the defences of
Moesia. Justinian fortified the great cities on the Danube, and inaugurated the
policy of fostering the jealousies and utilising the hostility of tribe against
tribe. It would have been well had he been able to repress his own jealousy of
his own successful generals—of Germanus, and N arses, and Belisarius. And yet
nothing but the courage, skill, and resources of Belisarius saved Justinian
and his capital in a.d. 559,
when Zabergan led a horde of Bulgarians and Slaves to the south of Mount
Hasmus, and almost surprised Constantinople. Eor this service Belisarius was
honoured with a “ recall.” If few things are sadder than a life of successful
energy ending in poverty and failure, the last years ot Justinian were sad
indeed. The money saved by Anastasius was spent; the Empire was too poor to
pay taxes:
the soldiers’
pay diminished, and with it the number of soldiers; and the Emperor was afraid
to go to war, for the army had dwindled to one-fourth of its numbers, the
sinews of war were wanting, and a successful and popular general would have
been a dangerous rival.
The
Avars—\&a>Sa/?apes.—In a.d. 557
an embassy arrived at Constantinople that aroused great curiosity. They were
not Huns, so familiar to the capital, for they wore their hair long, and a long
double tress or pigtail behind, fastened with ribbon. And yet their dress and
language were those of Huns. They called themselves Avars (vA/?apes),
and offered their arms to the Empire in exchange for money and land, which they
demanded with scant courtesy. Justinian temporised. Of land he said nothing (in
fact, what land had he to offer ?), but they were already on the shores of the
Caspian, and money and presents were much at their service, if they would vex
and harass the Emperor’s restless foes on the Euxine and the Caucasus. It
mattered little which conquered. The Empire would gain in having one enemy the
less. The Avars obeyed. They fell furiously on Huns and Slaves without
distinction, and in five years (a.d. 557-5G2)
had destroyed or subjugated the tribes settled between the Caucasus and the
Danube, and far up the valleys of the Dnieper and the Dniester, and founded an
Empire of their own. Then came, as might be anticipated, the inevitable claim
for “ land.” A second embassy was sent to Constantinople, reciting the
services of the Avars, and requesting to see the lands intended for their use.
What Justinian might have felt or said, had he known only what he knew five
years before, it is hard to determine. As it was, his eyes had been opened.
Shortly before, an embassy had arrived from yet another and a more terrible
Eastern people, the Turks, claiming, in the name of the great Khan
(Khakan,
Chaganus), the subjects who had fled from his hand, and who had falsely called
themselves Avars. He had heard that the Emperor had allied himself with these
slaves; where were they1? Justinian was confounded, as well he might
be, apologised for his strange mistake, and hastened to make an alliance with
his new friends, especially with a view to turning their arms against the
Persians; while the Avar embassy met with but a cool reception, and, indeed,
would have been sent off unheard, had it been safe to do so. The Danube,
however, was too near to Constantinople.
True
Story of “ False Avars.”—The true story of these “false Avars” is as curious as
any in history. Their real name had been “ Ouar-Khouni” (Ovap kcu Xovvvl), the
latter half of which stamps them as Huns; and they were probably a branch of
those Ugrians or Ogors who were settled in the fifth and sixth centuries to the
north of the Caspian and east of the Volga. They had formed a part of the vast
Empire of the genuine Avars, stretching from China to the Volga, and at their
downfall had become subjects with them of the great Khan of the Turks.
Transplantations of population (as of the Jews to Babylon) were so common in huge
Empires, that it is not strange to hear of both Avars and Ouar- Khouni being
transported to the far East by their new masters. The Avars were too broken
down to dream of escape. Not so the others. Watching their opportunity, the
chief horde, numbering 200,000 men, took women and children, cattle and
waggons, and essayed to flee, leaving three tribes behind them. Their course
was westward, toward their old home. Of the fortunes and sufferings of this
mass of human beings in their hurried flight no details are known, save that
the terror of their name preceded them (for they were supposed to be the Avars,
the old lords
of Asia), and that tribe after tribe was trampled under foot, or rudely thrust
upon its neighbours as they hurried on. But in one sense history repeats
itself. And if we remember that they traversed leagues of wild and difficidt
country, with an enemy hanging on their rear, we shall realise the greatness of
the feat they accomplished, by comparing the famous flight of the Kalmuck
Tartars from the tyranny of Catherine II. (a.d.
1771),2 or the yet more awful retreat of the French from
Moscow (a.d. 1813).3
Thousands must have perished. The mere speed of the flight,
necessary to ensure safety, must have been an element itself of bitter misery
to the women and children. Imagine the sleeplessness, the scanty food, the
constant fighting; the rivers to be crossed; the cold to be endured; the old,
the sick, the young children, drooping or abandoned. It is little wonder that
the vast district which they traversed was thrown into utter confusion by the
terrific and unexpected collision—a confusion which became a wild panic when
these Huns assumed the fashions of their old masters, and the name of the
dreaded “Avars.” These were the men who fought Justinian’s enemies, who
resuscitated Attila’s Empire on the Danube, who brought Constantinople to the
verge of ruin, and who fell at last only before the sword of Charles the Great (a.d. 791-799).
Avars
Attack the Slaves.—Meanwhile these Ouar- Khouni, or
false Avars, were on the Danube, and their ambassadors at Constantinople were
awaiting Justinian’s reply. Their demand was “land.” He offered them a corner
of Moesia, between the Gepidse and the Lombards, whom he had invited from
Bohemia to Pannonia. It was the old story over again, playing off one enemy
against another.
2 Cf. De Quincy, author’s Edition, vol.
iv.
8
Cf. Alison’s Hist. Europe, vol. xvi. cap. 73.
."But
they refused the offer, and being provoked by the Antes, fell savagely on the
Slavonian tribes, one after another, penetrating to the Baltic, and as far as
the Thur- ingian Forest. Here, however, they met their match in the Franks, and
returned once more to their old position, whence they could threaten or cajole
the Court of Byzantium. And either course was now equally easy. Justinian and
Belisarius were both dead; and Justin II. was no match for Baian, Chagan of the
Avars. Justin was a mere pedant, with grand words ever on his lips, but with no
common sense, or force of character, or knowledge of the world. As vain of his
own powers as he was jealous of his uncle’s glory, he made it his policy to
reverse Justinian’s. Where Justinian had diplomatised, Justin threatened,
though unable to execute his threats; while the ingratitude and hauteur of
Justin lost to the Empire the conquests of Justinian’s generals. Whether it
were Italians, or Avars, or Persians, he used the language of Marius to the
Teutons, or Trajan to the Parthians, though he had neither the genius of the
latter nor the troops of the former. He armed against the Empire all her
enemies at once. Baian, on the other hand, was a second Attila. Quick to read
other men’s minds, and to profit by their mistakes; ready to fight, yet never
making war save for a purpose; patient to endure even humiliations till he
could strike with a prospect of success; regarding oaths and treaties as only
means to that success; generous, magnificent, luxurious, he outlived three
Emperors, and founded the second Empire of the Huns. By judicious alliances and
timely wars he aggrandised his subjects at the expense of their neighbours. He
helped the Lombards to destroy the Gepidae (a.d.
566), and then occupied their land. By alternate force and intrigue
he mastered the valley of the Save. He fixed his capital on the site of
Attila’s,
between the Danube and the Theiss, whence he dominated alike Huns, and Slaves,
and Bulgarians, and could watch both Franks and Romans. He trespassed on the
Empire almost unperceived by a systematic series of small colonies of Slaves or
Bidgarians, which he planted surreptitiously to the south of the Danube. The
Romans recoiled from the idea of destroying hundreds of unarmed colonists, and
so took no notice; but the colonies, once planted, were subjects of Baian, who
might, and did, claim the land they occupied. Finally, he brought westward the
three tribes of Ouar-Ivhouni, who had refused to accompany the first fugitives.
Baian’s career, however, like Attila’s, was not unchequered by failure, and
before his death the firmness of the Emperor Maurice (a.d. 587-G02), and the ability of Priscus, inflicted on
the Avars five serious defeats, drove them to the Theiss, and retrieved the
honour of Rome.
Persian
Encroachments—a.d. 530-615.—All
this while, however, when the Avars were threatening the northern frontier, an
enemy hardly less formidable was steadily advancing on the south. During the
last fifty years Rome and Persia had been constantly at war; and the successful
arms of Chosroes I. (or Nushirvan, a.d.
531-579), had reduced Antioch, the capital of Syria, and seemed to
threaten even Constantinople. As before in Africa and Italy, and afterwards in
Thrace, the genius of Belisarius again averted the pressing danger, and
Chosroes withdrew to Mesopotamia (a.d.
541-2). It is needless to follow minutely the details of a varying
struggle—the war in the reigns of Justin, Tiberius, and Maurice—the fortunes
of Bahrain, who defeated both Romans and Turks— the adventures of Chosroes II.,
the adopted son of Maurice, who was placed on his throne by Roman arms. When
Maurice was murdered by an obscure centurion, Phocas
(a.d. 602), Chosroes, to avenge his
“father’s” death, invaded the Eoman dominions. He overran Syria, in vaded
Palestine, and took Jerusalem hy storm (a.d.
614). Egypt, Alexandria, Cyrene -were reduced. A Persian army was seen
on the shores of the Bosporus, and Chalcedon taken. It seemed as though between
the Avars and the Persians the days of the Eastern Empire were numbered; but it
had yet 800 years to live, and in the hour of need the deliverer appeared.
Heraclius, son of the Exarch of Africa, had been invited to free, and succeeded
in freeing, the Empire from the tyranny of Phocas (a.d. 610). But hardly was he seated on
the Imperial throne, before he heard of the fall of Antioch and the rapid
progress of the Persian arms. Presently came tidings of heavier loss— of the
invasion of Galilee and yet holier places—of the massacre of Christians—of the
pillage of the Church of the Eesurrection—of the removal of the “ true cross ”
to Persia. This was a cross of wood, which popular belief supposed to have been
that on which Christ was crucified, and to have been found by the Empress
Helena, mother of Constantine the Great. It was preserved in a case of wrought
silver. The emotion and profound grief felt in all Christendom at the loss of
this holy relic are to us hardly intelligible. Many Christians even thought
Christianity itself doomed.
Heraclius
Prepares for War — a.d. 615.—To
many others,
and Heraclius among them, it acted as a tonic, to rouse them from indolence and
luxury. The Emperor swore that he would seek the holy cross even in the depths
of Asia. What but a few weeks before would have seemed a Quixotic absurdity,
was now caught up as an inspiration from heaven with almost as much fervour as
the first Crusade. The ranks of the army soon filled. Bishops and clergy,
rulers and people, poured their
wealth into
the treasury. Churches remained open day and night, and frequent addresses kept
up the enthusiasm to a high pitch. It was (for the moment) a genuine “revival”
or reawakening of the whole Eoman world. The occasion, too, appeared
favourable. Italy was quiet, and the Exarchate at peace with its neighbours.
Clotaire the Frank was no enemy to Heraclius, and in common with his clergy
(being orthodox and not Arian) might be expected to sympathise in so holy a
cause.
Treachery
of the Avars—a.d. 616.—In
one quarter only was there room for fear. The Avars were on the Danube, and the
turbulence of the Avars was only equalled by their perfidy. Already, in a.d. 610, they had fallen suddenly
on North Italy, and pillaged and harassed those same Lombards whom they had
before helped to destroy the Gepidse. Previous to an absence, therefore, of
years from his capital, it was essential for the Emperor to sound their
intentions, and, if possible, to seciire their neutrality. His ambassadors were
welcomed with apparent cordiality, and an interview was arranged between the
Chagan and Heraclius. The place was to be Heraclea. At the appointed time the
Emperor set out from Selymbria to meet the Ivhan, decked with Imperial crown
and mantle to honour the occasion. The escort was a handful of soldiers; but
there was an immense cortege of high officials and of the fashionable world of
Constantinople, and the whole country side was there to see. Presently some
terrified peasants were seen making their way hurriedly towards Heraclius. They
urged him to flee for his life; for armed Avars had been seen in small bodies,
and might even now be between him and the capital. Heraclius knew too much to
hesitate. He threw off his robes and fled, and but just in time. The Chagan had
laid a deep plot. A large mass of men had been told off in small detachments
to march on
Heraclea by different routes, thus escaping observation; and he hoped by this
means to secure his prize. And indeed he only just failed. Heraclius had hardly
turned before the Avars burst in upon the defenceless and unarmed crowd. There
was a general sctuve qui peut—officials, peasants, chariot-drivers. The
Imperial baggage and robe were seized, but the hoped-for prize had flown.
Heraclius was in Constantinople; and when the Avar cavalry arrived there, the
gates were shut and the walls manned, and the city was ready for a siege. The
promptitude of the Emperor had saved not only himself, but his capital also.
And now the question was, "What notice should be taken of this piece of
treachery? War? But that would interfere with the more important Eastern
expedition. And, besides, the Khan was profuse in his apologies for the
rudeness and insubordination of his troops, which alone (he said) were in
fault. He offered restitution, and added vow to vow as to his own good faith.
In fact, if the Persian campaign were to be carried on, what else could Heraclius
do but smother his feelings, affect to believe, conclude an alliance, and hope
for tho best (a.d. 616)?
Heraclius
Victorious in Persia—a.d. 622-628.— At last, being at peace with his enemies
and all his preparations completed, Heraclius was ready to start (a.d. 622). There
is some difference of opinion as to the point of the Persian Empire which be
first attacked, and Gibbon accuses of inaccuracy those writers, who
nevertheless credit the Emperor with skill enough to attack his enemy at tho
weakest part. But when we reflect that the Persian armies were posted in Syria
and on the Euphrates, and had pushed into Asia Minor, it seems less credible to
believe that he landed in Cilicia, where he would have been exposed to a
concentrated attack, than that he adopted tho
more
audacious, yet perhaps safer, plan of landing in Colchis and attacking their
line of communication. In Colchis he was close to Huns and Turks, possible
allies, and certainly enemies of Persia; while the wisdom of his tactics was
seen in the fact, that a blow delivered towards the heart of the Empire
immediately recalled the Persian armies to its defence. Erom Colchis he marched
into Atropatene, Albania, and Armenia; and in those provinces a series of
campaigns was carried on for more than three years, in which Heraclius was
mostly successful, and pushed eventually as far south even as Aspadana
(Ispahan), if we may believe a doubtful authority. In any case, the effect was
the same—an attack on the centre of the Empire at once relieved Asia Minor and
Syria of the presence of Persian armies. At this juncture his enemy, taught by
his tactics, delivered a counterblow, which nothing but two or three lucky
accidents prevented from being fatal to the Eastern Empire. Chosroes opened
negotiations with the Chagan of the Avars, inviting him to join in an attack on
Constantinople, and offering him the pillage of the city if the attack were
successful. Schaharbarz was to be sent with a large Persian force to Chalcedon,
and the Avar skiffs and canoes, which they used on the Danube, were to carry
them, if requisite, across the Bosporus (a.d.
626). Such a joint attack, in the absence of the Emperor with the
flower of his army, might well seem hopeless to resist, unless he returned at
once to create a diversion. But he did nothing of the sort. Detaching a portion
of his army to make for the Euxine and to reinforce the garrison of the
capital, he marched himself with a small division to the shores of the Caspian
to invite the alliance of the Khazars, while he left the main body under his
brother Theodore’s command to compel the presence of a large
Persian army
in Adiobene for the protection of Ctesiphon. These Khazars or Acatzires were by
origin Huns, and their language similar to the Bulgarian; but having become
subject to the Turks they had intermarried, and adopted the Turkish customs and
dress and name. To the world at large they were Turks, and formidable in
proportion. By the promise of his daughter’s hand in marriage to their Khan,
Heraclius secured the aid of
40,000 warriors; and gradually forcing the
Persians from the field into the fortresses of Armenia and Mesopotamia, he won
a great victory in the plain where, 1,200 years before, Nineveh had stood (a.d, 627). This victory enriched
his army with all the wealth and plunder of the many palaces that lay along the
Tigris, and opened the road to Ctesiphon; while the recovery of 300 Roman
standards, and the liberation of numberless captives, might avenge the memories
of even Crassus (b.c. 53)
and Valerian (a.d. 260).
Heraclius was in no position, however, to press his advantage; for his good
allies the Khazars abandoned him, when they had filled their hands with booty.
Successful
Defence of Constantinople.—Meanwhile Constantinople was hard pressed. The confederate
armies of Persians and Avars had converged on the capital from north and south
towards the end of June a.d. 626,
the latter encumbered with the canoes (fjLovo£v\a) which they were bringing to
ferry their allies over the straits. The first attack was made on the wall on
July 31, and lasted for five days, but all to no purpose. The skill and courage
of the besieged repelled every assault. Scliaharbarz, moreover, was unable to
co-operate with his allies; for he had no means of crossing the narrow strip of
water between Chrysopolis and the capital, while the Roman fleet kept vigilant
watch and intercepted all
attempts of
the Avar canoes to cross over. A night surprise even in the Golden Horn was
foiled with heavy loss; and at last the Chagan, unable alike to affect a
junction with the Persians and to make an impression on the city, reluctantly
retired, vowing to return and take vengeance for his repulse.
Effects of
the War—a.d. 628-641.—But
the Eomans had now little cause for fear. Theodore had gained a brilliant
victory in Mesopotamia: and by-and- bye there came tidings of the battle of
Nineveh; of the restoration of standards and captives, and the yet more
precious prize of the “true cross;” of Heraclius’immediate return. And the
return was one long scene of triumph, the whole city flocking across the water
to Chrysopolis to welcome the victorious Emperor (September 14, 628). Indeed, it
was no ordinary exploit which this indolent, luxurious Emperor had achieved, in
combating successfully at one and the same time two such powerful foes. He
saved the Eoman Empire; while the Persian Empire never recovered from the blow,
and ere long fell before the new-born enthusiasm of Mohammedanism (a.d. 636-700). Nor did the Avars
escape from some disastrous effects of their repulse. The central authority
became so weakened, that both Slaves and Bulgarians asserted their independence
; and Heraclius, alive to the opportunity thus offered him, not only allied
himself to Samo the Frank, the leader of the Slavonian revolt, but invited a
body of Slovenes, who were settled on the northern slopes of the Carpathians,
and called themselves “ mountaineers ” (xp<*- /?aToi, Chrobates), to conquer
from the Avars, and to occupy a part of Dalmatia. They eagerly accepted his
offer, and conquered the country; and being converted to Christianity by the
efforts of the then Pope, Honorius, became faithful supporters of the Empire.
Nor did he
stop here.
The news of the good fortune of the Chrobats spreading, a body of Wends from
the Elbe, who called themselves “Srp” (^ep/?Xot, Sorabi), applied to Heraclius
for the same favour, and were settled by him to the south of the Save and
Danube, in what are now called Servia , and Bosnia. These, too, became
Christians. This practical defence of the line of the Danube against the Avars
was finished after Heraclius’ death (a.d.
641) by the settlement of the Bulgarians in the province of Mcesia,
to which they gave their own name. After a.d.
630 the Avars figure no more in the annals of the Eastern Empire.
A decaying
and disorganised power, they fell in the ninth century before the strong arm of
Charles the Great.
R^M. EM P.
0
MOHAMMED AND
MOHAMMEDANISM—
A.D.
622-711.
Mohammedanism
— a.d. 622.—The
seventh century had seen the Empire saved from ruin by the arms and policy of
a single Emperor, the Avars effectually thrust across the Danube, the Persian
Empire shattered. It was yet to .see a religious revolution, second in importance
only to Christianity, and the effects of which are still unexhausted in our own
day. In the seventh century there arose in Arabia a religion, which inspired
its votaries with such zeal, that in 100 years they had conquered and to a
great extent converted or destroyed the Zoroastrians of Persia, the Brahmans
and Buddhists of India, the Christians of Africa and Spain. They crossed the
Pyrenees. They threatened even Eome. In the end they established their religion
in the very heart of Eastern Christendom, at Constantinople (a.d. 1453). Why was all this ? How
was it, that an obscure country, almost beyond the pale of civilisation—beyond
the reach of Greek and Persian and Eoman arms—with a frugal, nomadic, and probably
decreasing population—divided into petty, hostile tribes—could send forth
almost inexhaustible armies, who were inspired with a fanaticism amounting to
madness, and blindly obeyed a single leader, at once general, king, and
pontiff?
Secondary
Causes of Success.—Various secondary causes may, no doubt, be
assigned for the rapid conquests of the Mohammedan armies. The prestige of
victory is great; one conquest is apt to lead to another: Avhile division
and weakness will always end in defeat. Persia was in a state of anarchy. The
divisions of Christianity Avere as fatal as its moral degeneracy.
Monasticism, which in one sense was then the salt of religion, was in another
its bane; for it robbed religion of the practical and masculine virtues, which
alone could make a successful resistance to such fanaticism possible. Eome and
her bishop were hardly yet strong enough to take the lead in such a struggle;
and neither the Empire nor the Church of the East could unite men, as Mohammedanism
united them, in one bond of nationality and religious unity. Hence resistance
was half-hearted, partial, and isolated. Nor were the Arabs, like the Vandals
or Goths, a nation seeking a new home. They Avere armies of men only, who for
the most part put other men to the sword, Avho seized the women for their own
harems, and whose children, at any rate, were Mohammedans. Hence the conquered,
stripped of wealth and wives, continually decreased in numbers, and in ability
to resist.
But these
reasons are not enough in themselves to explain the facts, nor do they at all
account for the origin and force of that enthusiasm, which made the Arabs so
irresistible. "VVe shall find both the one and the other (if at all) in
the conditions of Arab life and history, arid in the character of Mohammed
himself.
Characteristics
of Arabia.—The East, it is said, never changes : and this is
specially true of Arabia. A11 Eastern population, isolated from all the world,
and itself split up and divided into small tribes by force of circum
stances, will
hardly change at all from generation to generation. Arabia of to-day is in all
essentials the counterpart of the Arabia of Mohammed.
Briefly
described, the country consists of a central table-land, surrounded by a desert
ring of sand to the south, west, and east, and of stones to the north, its
entire surface being about four times as large as France, and measuring 1,500
miles in length, by 800 in breadth. Outside the desert again, and fringing the
coast, runs a strip of mountain land, varying in height, breadth, and
fertility. The area of country, admitting of cultivation, is estimated at
two-thirds; the remaining third being a desert (or ocean) of loose reddish
sand, shifting with every capricious breeze that blows, and not seldom piled up
in huge ridges or waves, which will at times average 200 feet in height, and to
cross which involves toil, suffering, aud often death. The central plateau
consists of a series of mountains and mountain slopes of granite and limestone,
intersected by sand passes which effectually separate tribe from tribe. In
short, the conditions of life in Arabia are such as to preclude (unless under
exceptional circumstances) movement and political activity.
Characteristics
of Tribes.—The population of this vast country was probably not more uniform in
the seventh century than it is now. History, language, and character alike
testify to as marked a difference between the nomad and the settled population,
as between the inhabitants of north and south. It is a common error to confound
Arabs with Bedouins, and to suppose that all Arabs are nomads. As a matter of
fact, the Bedouins or nomad Arabs bear but a small proportion to the settled
tribes, forming perhaps a fourth of the whole population, and present a
startling contrast in character to the cognate clans of Central and Eastern
Arabia. The latter are pro
nounced by
all travellers to be one of the noblest and most gifted races of the world;
Carlyle calls them the ‘‘"ItaliansofThe"East: tlie former, identical
in blood and tongue, but ignorant, licentious, and savage, are like
ill-educated children. They have little or no religion, little or no morality,
none of the courtesy of the “ noble savage.” Nor is the difference less marked
between the settled inhabitants of Northern and Southern Arabia— these inclined
to be volatile, ostentatious, and unstable; those serious, reticent, stedfast,
and austere. Indeed, 100 years before the era of Mohammed, there was fierce war
between the clans of the centre and the south (a.d. 500-520), in which the former established a
temporary independence, only to succumb afterwards to the new outbursts of
religious enthusiasm from Mecca and Medina. The general conclusion arrived at
from these and similar considerations is, that in Arabia, as in Europe, there were
two or three waves of population, whose course was from north to south. As
Kelts in Europe were encroached upon by Teutons, so in Arabia the original
Kahtanic stock was pushed forward by the later Ishmaelitic race, and even
across the Red Sea into Abyssinia and Eastern Africa. The latter traced their
descent to Ishmael, and so to Abraham. The former to Kahtan (in Hebrew,
Joktan), fourth in descent from Shem. Now, whatever may be the value of the
genealogies of Genesis, or of popular tradition in such a case, it is certain
that the Arabs acknowledge Kahtan as a founder of their race, while at the
southern end of the central Highlands a certain marked variation begins from
the purest Arabic, which increases to the east and south, as well as a marked
variation of customs and character. It is fair to infer a difference of origin
in populations whose language and character thus differ.
Political
and Religious Confusion—a.d. 600.—
At the beginning of the seventh century Arabia was in a state of singular
confusion, both political and religious. In the North the Byzantine Empire held
an undefined and dubious sway, while ever and anon its outposts reached almost
to Medina. The extreme eastern and southern clans were ruled by sovereigns of
their own, but in subjection to the Persian Empire; lastly, there was a
powerful and independent confederacy of clans in the central Highlands, ruled
by a certain Moseylemah. In the interstices (so to speak) of these separate
powers was a roving element of predatory Bedouins; while scattered about the
Penin-i sula, but especially in the west, were a few small communities of
Jews, who were active in making proselytes. But there were Christian refugees
still more active— refugees from the oppressive orthodoxy of the Empire, who
fought their battles over again in the freer atmosphere of Arabia, and who also
made converts. Indeed, Arab literature and traditions alike concur in showing
that Christianity was widely spread through Northern Arabia long before
Mohammedanism arose. The bulk of the population, however, was doubtless
pagan—not necessarily idolatrous, for the Sabceans (like the Magians, who fled
from Persia before the sword of the Greeks) worshipped the heavenly bodies as
symbols of the source of light, and abstained from the use of images; while,
unlike the Magians, they recognised no priestly caste. The purest Sabaeans were
to be found in the east of Arabia; in the centre and south-west the religion
was less refined and more idolatrous. But whether it were Jew or Christian, Magian,
Sabaean, or idolater, all Arabians agreed in reverencing the sacred stone of
Mecca, the Caaba—a holy place associated by tradition with the names of
Abraham, Seth, and Adam. And the temple of the Caaba was the
centre of the
commerce as well as pf the religion of Arabia; the pilgrims of every creed, the
merchants of every nation met in the holy place at Mecca. It was the one bond
of union between all Arabians. And of this temple, with its sacred stone and
well, the tribe of Koreisli, Mohammed’s tribe, were guardians.
Primary
Causes of Success.—If we now reflect for a moment
on the general bearing of what has been said thus far—the comparative
isolation, divergence, and disunion of the several Arabian tribes—and then
compare it with the spectacle presented by the same tribes 100, or 50, or even
30 years later, the problem to be solved will take a narrower and simpler form.
By a.d. 650 the Arabs were
masters of Persia, Syria, and Egypt. By the beginning of the eighth century
they had advanced to the Pillars of Hercules, and had twice besieged
Constantinople. What was the source of this marvellous energy? If the state of
Arabia itself was rather adverse than favourable to such an outburst, and the
condition of the conquered countries can only be cited as a secondary and
concurrent cause, to what can we attribute it but the personal character and
ascendency of Mohammed himself in the first instance; and, secondly, to the
religious system which he bequeathed to his followers 1 We have, in short, to
weigh the meaning of the life and ideas of a man who succeeded, like Moses, in
welding together a disunited people, and, like Buddha (about 600 B.C.), in
instituting a new religion for millions of his fellow-men.
Mohammed’s
Early Years.—Mohammed was born in a.d. 569 or a.d.
570, of the family of Hashem, of the tribe of Koreish. His father
and mother both dying while he was a child, he was taken charge of first by his
grandfather, and then by his uncle, Abu Thaleb, a just
and kind man.
This uncle he accompanied in various commercial journeys, especially ill a.d.
584 to Syria. It was his first introduction to the great world, and although
the tradition may not be false, which speaks of his being instructed in
Christian doctrines by the Nestorian monk Sergius at Eosra, it would seem
probable that other influences affected him far more deeply. The frequent
references, for instance, to “ ships ” in the Koran seem to point to visits to
Syrian sea-ports, and to deep impressions received there. For Mohammed was
known as thoughtful and observant from his earliest years; his friends called
him “ A1 Amin,” the Faithful. His was a reticent, serious, truthful character;
and withal he was pleasant t<3 look upon, with a high broad forehead and
oval face, an aquiline nose, keen black eyes, and black and flowing hair and
beard. He had a ruddy complexion. Though his manner was ordinarily calm and
serious, yet he could laugh genially, and the sweetness of his smile was noted;
while if roused to anger he showed the family peculiarity of a curious
swelling of the veins on the brow. Though little educated (for it is probable
that he could never write), his intellectual powers were far above the common.
He had a quick apprehension, keen insight, and vivid imagination; a mind to be
deeply impressed by the mingled monotony and “intensity” (so to say) of the
physical life around him, the intense sunlight, the brilliant starlight, the
interminable desert. Even the man’s personal tricks and habits help us to
realise him as he was; his mode of wearing the turban with one end hanging down
between his shoulders, because (he said) the angels wore it so; his scrupulous
cleanliness; his delight in perfumes ; his trick of perpetually smoothing his
hair when in the presence of women.
Mohammed
“ called” to be the Prophet of God.—After serving a rich widow of Mecca,
Kadijah by name, as steward, she, grateful for faithful services, married him,
and they lived happily together for twenty- five years. She was forty, and had
already been twice married; Mohammed was only twenty-eight. But his marriage
with Kadijah made him one of the most wealthy, as he was already from force of
character one of the most influential men in Mecca. This wealth gave him a
respite also from the necessities of business, and leisure for that reflection
in which he loved to indulge. The first twelve years of his married life were
the seed time of the harvest to come. At the age of forty the crisis came in
his life. Mohammed had been used, like other Arabians, to pass the holy month
of Ramadhan in solitude in the caves of Mount Hira, ten miles north of Mecca.
And in a.d. 609,
while thus in seclusion, a vision appeared to him (he said) from Heaven in the
person of the angel Gabriel. He had been fasting, watching, and praying. In the
dead of night he heard a voice, amid an intolerable flood of light, calling to
him and bidding him to read what was written on a scroll held in the angel’s
hand. Enabled by supernatural power to do what before was impossible to him,
he read in the scroll the law of God as afterwards revealed in the Koran; while
the angel solemnly announced to him that he was to be the “Prophet of God.” The
fervent belief of Kadijah, to whom he imparted this vision, and the adhesion of
her cousin Warkeh, confirmed the wavering mind of Mohammed. But his enemies,
and even some of his earlier followers, asserted that the vision was an
epileptic fit, to which attacks he was subject; and one of his biographers1
believes “not that the apparition of Gabriel was alleged to conceal his
1 Dr Weil—cf. Milman Lat. Christianity,
book iv. cap. i.
malady, but
that the malady itself was the cause of his belief in these apparitions.” It
may be so. In the absence of definite details, however, one or two points are
clear. Mohammed was no impostor. Impostors do not generally begin imposture in
the decline of life, or needlessly face personal privations and dangers, or
frame religions for half a world. Mohammed believed heartily in his own “ call
” to be a reformer. As a theory to explain undisputed facts, it seems not
impossible that, like Elijah in Israel, or Paul at Athens, his soul was stirred
within him by what he saw around. Amidst the fanaticism of the Jewr,
the hair-splitting word-battles of the Christians, the nature worship of the
Sabteans, the idolatry of the Caaba with its 360 images, the root of the matter
seemed lost—the one God in and over all. It was no doubt the glory of
Mohammedanism (and as we shall see presently its fatal Shibboleth) to insist
with even wearisome iteration on the unity of God. That is the doctrine on
which Mohammedanism rests, and by virtue of which Mohammed gave to his
countrymen unity and a higher life. And to the Arabs Mohammedanism was “as a
birth from darkness to light,” and the effect which it produced in them comparable
only to the effect of Puritanism on the soldiers of CromwelL There was, indeed,
little that was new or strange to the world in the creed, beyond the assertion
of the “prophetic ” mission of its founder; what was new was the ardour with
which it was believed and propagated, and the marvellous results which
followed.
Ill Success
of Mohammed.—At first, however, Mohammed met with little success. Kadijah his
wife, Seid his slave, Ali his cousin, were the first converts. In three years
he had only gained thirteen followers; and the pretensions of an unlettered
middle-aged man, backed
only by a
woman and a lad of sixteen, to change a nation’s life and beliefs, were greeted
with ridicule. But the Prophet persevered. As little by little his eloquence
and earnestness gained adherents, so did the bitter hostility of unbelievers,
and especially of the Koreish, increase. A price was set on his head. He had to
face personal insult, to disguise himself, to take refuge for three years in a
castle of his uncle’s. At last that uncle’s death left him without protectors.
His life was in danger from unscrupulous enemies. Success at Mecca seemed
impossible.
The
Hegira or Flight of Mohammed to Medina —a.d.
G22.—He
fled (a.d. G22), and from
this darkest hour of the Prophet’s life Mohammedanism dates its birth. He had
already gained a handful of converts at Yathreb, some 200 miles distant, a
commercial rival of Mecca, where there was no local hierarchy, and but little
local idolatry; and to Yathreb (henceforth called “Medina- al-Xabi,” the city
of the Prophet) the exiled Prophet fled. But he had much ado to escape. His
murder was determined on, but the plot was betrayed to him. His cousin Ali
dressed in his robe and lay on his couch, while Mohammed and Abu Bekr stole
from Mecca by starlight, and hid in a cave for three days, being fed by the
latter’s daughter. Finally, they reached Medina in safety, and received welcome
and protection. And here the believers rapidly increased in numbers : fugitives
fled from Mecca before the persecution of the Koreish, converts were made in
Medina, proselytes came in from the desert nomads. Mohammed, in fact, was at
the head of a considerable body of men.
First
Proclamation of War against Infidels.—
At this point
it is that we trace the first hint of an appeal to the sword. Far too much has
been made of this. If we consider the matter, first of all, how natural
it was that
such an idea should present itself to a man born and bred in the midst of
differences, and hostilities such as have been described ! And, next, we must
remember that the sacredness of toleration is a discovery of quite recent
date, and even yet of small estimation. Christianity is not less, but all the
more divine, because on the whole it has forsworn the sword. Mohammedanism
betrays its human origin in taking as a principle the use of persecution. Nor
has Christianity been always true to itself. Charles’ Franks and Cromwell’s
Puritans acted on the belief of Mohammed’s Arabs, that their own enemies were
the enemies of God. Mohammed, indeed, did not shrink from avowing his position.
“ I,” he said, “ the last of the prophets, am sent with the sword. Let those
who promulgate my faith enter into no discussion, but slay all who refuse
obedience.”
Fall
of Mecca—a.d. 630.—There
followed battles with the Jews, who refused Mohammed’s overtures; battles with
the infidels of Mecca, until in a.d. 630,
partly by negotiations, partly by surprise, the city fell
Iinto his
hands; the idols of the Caaba were destroyed; Mecca became the capital of Islam,
the holy city, the centre of pilgrimages. And this was not all. As lord of
Mecca, Mohammed gradually gained such influence in more distant parts of
Arabia, that the hereditary feuds ceased; Arabia assumed the position of a
nation among other nations, and began to have a policy. It was only natural
that the views of the Prophet should expand with his power; that the political
and religious unity of Arabia, of the East, of the world, shoiild dawn by
degrees on Mohammed’s mind. Even the union of Arabia was a somewhat slow
process, and not completed till after the Prophet’s death. The Jews were
converted or banished. Christians were tolerated at first, as being enemies of
the
Jews anil
believers in a true prophet, Christ; but it was not for long. Christians were
said or believed to worship three gods, and punished as heretics. “ Say not
there are three Gods,” says the Koran, “God is but one God. Far be it from Him
that He should have a son.” Central Arabia had to be conquered by slow and
bloody fighting, and yielded only to the energy of Khalid, “the sword of God.”
Eastern Arabia gave a speedier but more transient allegiance, while with the
Bedouins of the desert even Mohammed could scarcely do anything. Still the
unity of Arabia for the time was so far secured by the energy of Mohammed and
the first Caliphs (or successors), that an Arab army could meet Roman soldiers
on the field of Muta (a.d. 630),
and Arab ambassadors were sent to the Emperor Heraclius and the Persian king.
The feeling of strength arising from this unity is well exemplified in a
conversation between the ambassador of Omar and the Persian Yezdegerd. “ Who
are you,” said the Persian, “to attack an empire1? of all nations of
the world the poorest, most disunited, most ignorant V’ “ What you have
said/’ replied the ambassador, “ of our poverty, divisions, and barbarism,
teas true indeed. But now we are a new people. God has raised among us a man,
His true Prophet; and Islam, His religion, has enlightened our minds,
extinguished our hatreds, and made us a society of brothers.” Allowing for the
logic of the sword, this reply precisely describes the early effects of
Mohammedanism in Arabia.
Death
of Mohammed—a.d. 632.—Mohammed
did not live long enough to see even the union of Arabia. He had lived a hard
life; and the strength of his constitution had been impaired by poison
administered to him some years before by a Jewish captive, and when, in a.d. 631, his only son Ibrahim died,
it was a mortal blow to.
himself. One
more solemn pilgrimage from Medina to Mecca he performed, at the head (it was
said) of more than 50,000 pilgrims; but his days were numbered. A fever set in;
and after great suffering he died (June 8, 632), and was buried in Medina. So
died a great man, in many respects a good man, one of those whom power and
prosperity corrupt, but not wholly. He never lost his simplicity of character,
his genuine piety, his unselfishness, difficult as it may be to reconcile such
traits with some points of his creed and character. Prayer was his constant
practice: “trust in God” his constant motto. When his favourite wife, Ayesha,
once asked him* whether none entered paradise but through God’s mercy, “None,
none, none,” he answered, -with triple iteration. “ But you, 0 Prophet, will
not you enter except through His compassion % ” Then Mohammed placed his hand
on his head and replied thrice, with much solemnity, “ Neither shall I enter
paradise, unless God cover me with His mercy.” Whatever were the faults and
errors of this Arab prophet he was a sincere man, whose religion made both him
and his followers better men.
The
Doctrines of Mohammedanism.—To speak of Mohammed apart from
Mohammedanism, would leave the problem before us only half solved. It was the
doctrine and practice of Islam,2 which inspired the conquering
armies of Saracens, and which, in our own day, commands the allegiance of
115,0QQ,Q00 of human beings.
The
Unity of God.—“ The faith of Islam (as Gibbon says) is
compounded of an eternal truth and a necessary fiction,” that there is only one
God, and that Mohammed is the apostle of God. The unity of God was a truth of
2 “Islam ” is the infinitive mood, “
Moslim ” the participle of the causative verb, derived from “salm” — “peace,”
Islam — to make peace.
which the
world had too much lost sight, not only in Mohammed’s misconceptions, but in
reality. The “three gods ” of the Koran are doubtless a misunderstanding of the
Christian Trinity; but the worship of relics, images, and saints certainly
obscures true ideas of God. In the Mohammedan profession of faith the unity of
God is asserted by raising the forefinger, and exclaiming, “ La Ilah ilia
Allah,” “there is no god but God.” On the surface these words look like a
truism, but they are not. They are the negation of any deity, save one: they are
that, and much more. They not only deny all plurality, whether of person or
nature, in God, but they imply that this Supreme Being is the only agent or
force in the universe, all else (men included) being only instruments, by and
through which He works, “ as He wills ” (a frequent expression in the Koran),
communicating nothing to them, receiving nothing from them. Allah is a “jealous
God,” an omnipotent autocrat, ruling the universe “as He wills.” Woe to him who
disobeys! Below Him and at His feet lies all creation, from angels to insects,
creatures of His breath, all equal in His sight, all created alike only for His
will. This is the meaning of the words, stated barely. What the system which
is based on such a belief results in, may be seen in the government of the
Central Arabia of to-day, where the “ reformed Mohammedanism ” of the Wahlia-
bees is in full possession.3 The doctrine inevitably excludes all
relations between man and God save those of slavish obedience, excludes
therefore all idea of progress and development. Islam is sterile and
stationary; and its sacred book, like a “dead man’s hand,” is stiff and
motionless. “ The worshipper ” (says an Arab proverb) “ models himself on what
he worships;” and life in Riad,
3 See Palgrave’s Arabia, chapters viii.
and ix.
the capital
of Central Arabia, and headquarters of "\Vah- habeeism, is marked by
monotonous and chilling reserve on the surface, and beneath by the worst
features of religious despotism, jealousy, espionage, and repression.
Angels and Genii.—Mohammedanism
includes belief not only in God, but in angels and genii—the former of which
are exempt from, while the latter are subject to the frailties of humanity, and
both alike created out of fire.
The
Koran.—The third article of faith is belief in the Koran (Al-Koran—the Book) as
divinely revealed through the Prophet. It was certainly compiled after Mohammed’s
death, during the Caliphate of Abu Bekr; yet its general integrity is
universally acknowledged. It is the Mohammedan code of civil as well as
religious law. Mohammedans swear by it, take omens from it, study it. In some
mosques it is read through daily.
The
Creed. — Mohammedans believe further in 200,000 prophets, of whom six are
pre-eminent—Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed; in the
resurrection and final judgment; in a heaven and hell, whose joys and horrors
are detailed with singular minuteness; last, and not least, in predestination,
so that every event has been predetermined from all eternity, and every man’s
destiny and hour of death have been irrevocably fixed, a doctrine as potent on
the battle-field as it is fatal in the time of peace.
Practical
Religion.—There are four articles of religious practice—prayer, alms, fasting,
and pilgrimage. Five times a day is prayer enjoined with prehminary ablution,
in which the words, posture, and gestures are carefully prescribed, while the
eyes are to be turned towards Mecca. Friday is the sacred day of rest, with a
sermon in the mosque. Alms must be given by every good Mohammedan to the extent
of at least one-tenth of
his income.
Fasting is practised for thirty days in each year during the month of Eamadhan,
implying abstinence between stmrise and sunset from meat and drink, baths, and
all bodily gratifications. As to pilgrimage, every believer is bound to visit
Mecca once in his life, either personally or by proxy.
Was
Mohammedanism Original ?—A moment’s reflection on the beliefs and practice of
Mohammedanism shows that no religion was less original. Sabeeism, Ma- gianism,
Judaism, Christianity—Mohammed borrowed from all impartially; while in the four
religious “ practices ” there was nothing new. The grand central idea of Islam
was common to it with Judaism, and a protest against Oriental idolatry on the
one hand, and Trinitarian Christianity on the other. Its angels were Biblical;
its genii Eastern. Even its legends may be traced to the Talmud, or the
Apocryphal Gospels. The one startling novelty in the creed of Islam was the
divine mission of Mohammed himself. “ It was this ” (says Dean Milman), “
forced as a divine revelation into the belief of so large a
part of mankind, which was the power of Islam—the principle of its unity, its
fanaticism, its propagation, its victories, empire, and duration.” To the
question, whether Mohammed deceived himself prior to deceiving others, or was
moved by indignation at his people’s idolatry, or was filled with a lofty
political ambition, or was a singleminded reformer, a preacher of
righteousness; or whether rather his character was not a mixed one, made up of
these and other conflicting elements—we may best answer in the favourite
phrase of Islam, “ God knows.” Certainly in one point which has been laid to
the charge of the prophet, his sanction of polygamy and of slavery, it is well
to remember that it had been the established usage of Arabia, and that Mohammed
did not enlarge
ROM.
F.MP. p
blit
restricted the privilege. It is well to remember that men who have been born
and bred amid particular customs, whether polygamy, or slavery, or suttee, or
human sacrifice, are not easily convinced of the wrong of them; and that
Mohammed’s own indrdgence in polygamy may be quite as justly ascribed to his
anxiety for male issue to succeed him. as to licentiousness. In short, if we
judge Mohammed by the standard of the nineteenth Christian century, we shall
misjudge him. Compare him with the men of his own day and country—ascribe to
him what ambition, fanaticism, violence, inconsistency we will— there will yet
remain enough of grand and good to rank him among the genuine “ heroes ” of the
world’s history.
Mohammedan
Conquests — a.d. 632-711.—Mohammed
died on June 8th, 632. The disunion, which would have destroyed his empire
almost before its foundation, was happily deferred for a while. Not until
three caliphs—Abu Bekr, Omar, and Otliman—had cemented union by foreign
conquest in Syria, Persia, and Egypt, did the struggle for the caliphate begin
between Ali and Moawija. In seven years from the prophet’s death Syria was
Mohammedan (a.d. 632-9), to
remain so for fully 500 years. The Christian opposition was of the feeblest,
for Christian virtues in the East were passive rather than active, and a
religious war was as yet undreamt of; so far Islam had a distinct advantage.
Roman armies were defeated in two pitched battles. Damascus, Emessa, Baalbec,
and even Jerusalem were besieged and taken ; its inhabitants were reduced to a
subject caste, and the Mosque of Omar wTas built on the site of the
Temple. By the middle of the century the Sassanian dynasty had fallen, and the
Persian Empire as far as the Oxus was Mohammedan—a success to be pushed before
the eud of the century to the very confines of India. Meau while, in the
opposite
direction, Egypt also had succumbed to the arms of Amrou (a.d. G39-641), and the conquest of
Africa was gradually though less rapidly effected (a.d. 647-G98). The beginning of the eighth century saw
the Mohammedans masters of a large part of Spain, invited there (a dubious
tradition says) by the Christian Count Julian to avenge the wrongs inflicted on
his daughter by Roderic, the Gothic king (a.d.
711). Thus, in less than a century from the Prophet’s secret flight
to Medina, not only was the Caliph sovereign, but the religion of Mohammed was
dominant from the Indus to the Atlantic, in Persia, Arabia, Syria, Egypt,
Northern Africa, and part of Spain. Christianity did not indeed die out; but
Christian divisions and bickerings paved the way for the triumph of Islam, and
not a few Christians found refuge from their perplexities in the simple creed
of the divine unity, even at the cost of acknowledging Mohammed; while polygamy
at the outset had a constant tendency to increase the relative numbers of the
Mohammedan population at the expense of the Christians. Nor was Mohammedanism
itself unaffected by the philosophy, the religion, the culture of the Asiatic,
Greek, and Roman worlds with which it clashed. Architecture, poetry, science,
philosophy, transformed Islam into something very different from the stern and
narrow creed of Mohammed; until in the middle of the last century a learned
enthusiast of Central Arabia, named AVahhab, undertook the self-imposed task of
restoring Islam to its true and original type—a task which has met (if we may
believe travellers) with but limited success.
THE
POPES AND THE LOMBARDS IN ITALY—
A.D. 540-740.
Gregory
the Great.—The reconquest of Italy to the Eastern Empire by Eelisarius and
Narses (a.d. 536-552) was only the prelude to its
final revolt. The causes of that revolt were as patent, as its effects were
deep and lasting; and it is inseparably connected with the name of Gregory the
Great. Amidst the confusion and panic consequent on the feebleness of the
Imperial rule in Italy and the ferocity of the Lombards, it was Gregory who
became “the father of the mediteval Papacy,” and by his energy, resolution, and
wisdom resuscitated a power “ on which (humanly speaking) hung the life and
death of Christianity ”—a power capable of resisting Byzantine encroachments,
of overawing barbarous Franks, of leading the struggle against Mohammedauism,
of reconstituting (it might be hoped) the liberty and independence of Italy.
Unhappily, that is the last thing of which the Papacy has ever dreamed.
State
of Italy after its Conquest—a.d. 540-590.—
The reconquest of Italy by the Eastern Empire was to a great extent the work of
the Catholic clergy, who disliked the foreign Goths and hated their Arianism;
but it brought little good to Italy. The country was exhausted
by the drain
of money, men, and food during a long war.
In Picenum alone
50,000 labourers are said to have died of hunger, and a yet larger number in
the south. Acorns became a common article of food. The reviving prosperity
which had resulted from Theodoric’s policy and the gradual fusion of Goths and
Italians was rudely extinguished. A just and vigorous rule was supplanted by
feebleness and reckless tyranny. The “ Exarch ” at Ravenna, as the Imperial
governor was styled, was expected to need but little support. The less he asked
for, and the more he sent home, the better was the home government pleased. Of
“policy,” strictly speaking, there was none beyond that of clinging
convulsively to the province and its revenues. But of all Italians perhaps the
Bishop of Rome suffered the deepest indignity. At Rome now, as for years at
Constantinople, the highest ecclesiastical honour became the sport of female
intrigues. Pope Sylverius was degraded (a.d.
537), banished, perhaps murdered. Yigilius was appointed by
Belisarius at the nomination of Theodora (a.d.
544); Pelagius similarly (a.d.
554) by Justinian. “The period” (says Mil- man) “between the
accession of John III. and that of Gregory I. (a.d. 560-590) is the most barren and obscure \ in the
annals of the Papacy.” And meanwhile the Lombards were already in the north of
Italy, ready to profit by all this weakness and dissension.
The
Lombards.—The Lombards, who in the days of I Augustus and Trajan had been
settled between the Oder I and the Elbe, had been invited by Justinian from the
centre of Europe to occupy Pannonia, and to act as a check upon the Gepidae.
For thirty years they had sustained an unequal contest. Its conclusion was a
veritable tragedy. Alboin, the Lombard king, had deeply insulted Rosamond, the
daughter of Cunimund, King of the
Gepidse. War
broke out, and the Lombards were defeated. Stung with vexation, Alboin invited
the Avars, his terrible neighbours, to help him and take the land of his
enemies, promising them in addition a moiety of the spoils and captives. They
gladly acquiesced, and the nation of the Gepidoe was practically destroyed (a.d. 566). Thus the valleys of the
Save and Drave fell into Avar hands; while the Lombards, not unwilling perhaps
to escape from the presence of friends so powerful, were soon creeping over the
Alps, threatening North Italy, and ready to accept any alliance which might
offer. The fame of Alboin attracted numerous followers,—Gepidse, Bulgarians,
Bavarians, Saxons; and an unexpected ally presently appeared upon the scene.
Narses had been Exarch for fifteen years, and had stained the virtues of an
otherwise good administration by avarice and exactions. The groans of the
province reached the ears of Justin, and Longinus was sent to supersede Narses.
The latter, indignant, withdrew to Naples; and if he did not invite him, at least
he gave Alboin clearly to understand that the kingdom of Italy was within his
grasp.
Lombard
Conquest of Italy — a.d.
567.— The whole country, indeed, from the Alps to Rome fell into his
hands almost without a blow. One city alone, which the Goths had fortified,
withstood the Lombards for three years; and Pavia, when taken, became the
Lombard capital. And very terrible (if we may believe Italian witnesses) was
this new irruption of barbarians, who burned churches, destroyed cities and
castles, farms and monasteries, and left the land a desert. To many, even to
Gregory himself, it seemed a sign of the approaching judgment day. In the
legends of the time, dealing with the virtues of bishops and monks, it is
always a Lombard who persecutes; and (as was natural) the general terror
passed
gradually into a rooted detestation, of which subsequent Popes wisely availed
themselves. As regards the Lombards themselves, it is useless to dwell on the
confusion which followed the murder of Alboin in a.d. 573, or to write
in succession the names of kings who for 200 years were masters of a great part
of Italy, and not more than one or two of whom were of any note (a.d. 573774).
There are two things, however, which it will be well to notice briefly in
passing,—foreshadowings of customs which were destined to exercise a deep and
last- ^g influence on mediaeval Europe. In the Lombard laws, as in those of
other Teutons, we begin to observe the marked difference made between the
crimes of nobles and of inferior classes—a difference estimated by a different
mulct according to the social rank of the injured person (WehrrjelJ). And not
only do we fiud this practically “ feudal” idea existing among Ostrogoths and
Lombards, but au actual feudal custom, the very basis of feudalism itself, in
force among the Lombards. In the reign of Autharis (a.d. 584-590) the various
“dukes” (duces) of Italy engaged to follow him to war, and to furnish troops,
as tfie price of their duchies being made independent and hereditary (subject
to forfeiture for felony), and revertible to the Crown only if there were no
male heir.
Territorial
Limits of the Exarchate.—For 200 years Italy was unequally
divided between the Lombards and the Exarchate of Eavenna. The limits of the
latter it is most important to remember, as it afterwards became in part the
“patrimony of St. Peter.” It comprised the modern Eomagna, the valleys of
Ferrara and Commacchio, and the district lying between Eimini and Ancona, the
Adriatic and the Apennines. There were also three subordinate provinces of
Venice, Eome, and Naples; and the outlying districts of Calabria, Sicily,
Sardinia, and Corsica.
All else of
Italy was Lombard. The Pope meanwhile held the anomalous position of being
within the exarchate and subject to the Emperor, while semi-independent and
with an undefined jurisdiction. It was clear that the relations between the
Papacy and Italy on the one hand, and the Eastern Empire on the other, were
open to revision, and would be revised as soon as a man of decision and
judgment was Pope. Such a man appeared in Gregory the Great.
Gregory
I.—Gregory was the son of Gordian and Sylvia, born about a.d. 540. He united
every qualification that could gain the respect of Eomans. He was the
descendant of senators and ecclesiastics, and his family was wealthy. But the
wealth no sooner came into his own hands than he devoted it to religious
uses,—in alms, and in building and endowing monasteries; one of which, St.
Andrew’s, on the Coelian Hill, he entered as a monk, throwing to the winds his
dignity as “Praetor,” and his worldly prospects. It was 250 years since the
great Athanasius had introduced to the West the ascetic monas- ticism of the
East—scarce 100 years since its first great revival by St. Benedict; but there
was not now a single country of the West in which monasteries were not plentiful.
And Western monasticism was different from Eastern. It was practical,
missionary, aggressive. If a man was haunted with a sense of sin or of his own
weakness, or of the evil of the world, he retired into a monastery ; but it
was to perform regular duties, to observe an austere ritual, to maintain severe
toil. The three great virtues of the Benedictine rule were silence, humility,
and obedience,—poverty had not yet become a necessity; the three occupations of
life were worship, reading, and manual labour. Nor was this all. A monastery in
the West became a centrc and an example to all its neigh-
bourhood of
contentment and industry, a place of refuge for the timid and feeble, a support
to the poor and old, a means of evangelisation to all. Whatever of poetry was
yet left in human life amid the misery and ferocities of the time, gathered
round the men and women who flocked into monasteries, and was (so to say)
precipitated in the shape of miracle and legend. Gratitude and admiration
passed into something not unlike worship. Angels and demons were at every
corner. Miracles abounded. Of course a man like Gregory, thoroughly a type of
his own age in all except that resolute energy which placed him on a level with
the great of all ages, was ascetic from conviction,—equally, of course, his
self-devotion and boundless charity became the marvel of his contemporaries,
the subject of miracles. They show at Eome a marble table at which he fed daily
twelve beggars, among whom on one occasion appeared unbidden a thirteenth,—an
angel unawares. Or again, when Eome was devastated by pestilence, and Gregory,
-with many another good man, was instant with alms and prayers, and in his
efforts to alleviate the evil, a legend tells how at the head of a procession,
chanting a solemn litany, he was approaching the mausoleum of Hadrian, and saw
the angel of death sheath his sword as the procession drew near. Or again, his
charity was once tried by an angel in sailor’s guise, whose repeated visits
drained Gregory’s small store, till he had nothing left but a silver cup used
by his mother. He gave it, and the angel at once revealed himself. But these
stories, though characteristic, are illustrations rather than instances. In his
love for children we tread on firmer ground; while his tenderness for slaves,
and his noble efforts to soften their hard lot, were no less significant.
Interview
of Gregory with English Slaves.— Both traits of his character
are well seen in the fine story '
(traditione
mcijorum) told of him by Baeda:1—“
One day” (says the monk) “Gregory went out with the crowd to the Forum to see
the wares of merchants just arrived; and amongst them saw some fair-skinned
lads for sale, with beautiful faces and noble heads of hair, presumably therefore
of noble birth. He asked from what land they came. £ From Britain,’
was the answer. He asked again, ‘Were they Christians or pagans?’ ‘Pagans,’
they said. Then heaving a deep sigh, £ Alas ! ’ he cried, ‘ that the
prince of darkness should possess youths of so bright a face, that so graceful
a presence should conceal a heart devoid of grace within!’ When told that they
were Angli (English), ‘Well said,’ he rejoined, with a play upon the word, ‘for
they have angelic faces, and such ought to be co-heirs of angels in heaven. And
what is the name of the province whence they come?’ ‘ They are Deiri,’ was the
answer; that is, they were from the ‘ Dearne-rice,’ the land between Tyne and
Humber. ‘Well called Deiri,’ replied Gregory, ‘for they have been snatched from
wrath (de ird eruii) and called to mercy. And what is their king’s name?’
‘Aelli,’ they said. ‘Alleluia,’ he cried; ‘the praise of God their Creator must
be sung in those parts.’ ” It is a quaint story, but singularly true to nature.
Gregory
prevented from going to England.— Gregory had resolved to go as
missionary to Britain, but . all Eome resolved that he should not. He had wrung
a reluctant consent from Pope Pelagius, and advanced three days’ j ourney along
the Flaminian Eoad. They had stopped 1 to rest at noon, and Gregory
was reading, when suddenly a locust leaped upon his book. His quaint
playfulness was as ready as his courage. “ Eightly is it called locusta,” he
said; “ it seems to say, ‘ Loco sta.’ I see we shall not 1 Bocda,
Hist. Eccl., ii. 1.
be able to
finish our journey.” He had hardly spoken when a hurried messenger recalled him
to Eome, where the Pope’s life had been endangered by a mob, furious at
Gregory’s departure. He returned, to enter on public affairs, to conduct an
embassy to Constantinople, to be Papal secretary, much against his will to be
Pope (a.d. 590). But the
plan, which he had vainly tried to carry out as a monk, he saw as Pope
successfully carried out by another. The conversion of the English in Britain
was begun by St. Augustine.
Sketch
of English History—a.d. 410-596.—The
Eoman province of Britain had been Keltic and Christian, the Britain of
Augustine was to a great extent English and Pagan; what had happened in the
intervening two centuries 1
The
independence of the province had been acknowledged by Honorius in a.d. 409, and was maintained with
some difficulty till the middle of the century against encroaching Piets and
Scots. At last, harassed and plundered, hemmed in between enemies in the north
and the sea in the south, the Kelts (so runs the story) begged for help from
their Teutonic neighbours across the German Ocean; and those who came to help
remained to conquer. In reality, however, Teutons had come to Britain many
years before, certainly before the end of the fourth century. Even in the third
century the depredations of Saxon pirates on the shores of Gaul and Britain had
been such as to compel Diocletian to appoint a special officer for their
protection (Comes Littoris Saxonici).2 It is probable, therefore,
that the Teutonic conquest of Britain was rather an immediate consequence of
the cessation of Eoman protection than the result of invitation. There were
doubtless many Teutonic tribes which took part in
2 Cf. Lappenberg’s Anglo-Saxon Kings,
vol. i. p. 44.
the invasion;
hut the three most important were the Jutes, Saxons, and Angles. They were all
akin apparently, and came from the district of North-Western Europe, which
lies between the Rhine and Denmark. Of the Saxons we hear first; the Angles
were most numerous ; and the Jutes least numerous, occupying only Kent, the
Isle of Wight, and part of Wessex. Hence “ Saxon” was the name given to the
English by the Kelts, while “ Englaland” became the name of the country. They
were all pagans and robbers. And though the struggle was long, in the end they
drove before them or nearly extirpated the Keltic population, and with it
whatever remained of Christianity and of Roman civilisation. A small proportion
they retained as slaves. The Teutonic conquest of Britain, therefore, was
different from the Teutonic conquests in other parts of the Roman Empire; for
the English did not (like Vandals or Goths or Lombards) simply sit down as a
conquering aristocracy amidst a vast surrounding population, in whose mass they
were presently lost; neither did they adopt the religion of the vanquished, or
their language, or their civilisation. In Britain a civilised people was swept
away by a barbarous, a Christian people by a pagan. At first (as was natural)
there was but little union among the several tribes, and probably not a little
strife, until the necessities of selfdefence led to “ federation,” and seven
kingdoms (the so- called “ Heptarchy”) emerged from the obscurity,—Kent, Essex
(or East Saxons), Sussex (South Saxons), Wessex (West Saxons), East Anglia,
Mercia (men of the “ March” or frontier), and Northumberland, which stretched
from the Humber to the Firth of Forth. To give one instance of “ federation,”
the Anglian kingdom, of Mercia, in the centre of England, comprised West Saxons
north of the Thames, Hwiccas in Gloucester and Worcester, Magestetas
in Hereford,
Gainas and Lindisfaras in Lincoln. It was not uncommon, moreover, for the king
of some one of the kingdoms, by arts or arms, to acquire a certain ill-defined
supremacy over the rest, which Bseda terms “ Imperium,” and the holder of which
the Saxon chronicle calls “ Bret- walda” (later “ Brytenwalda ”). Eight kings
are mentioned, of six different kingdoms, who gained this predominance,
including Ecgberht of Wessex, who not only gained, but retained it, and handed
it on to his descendants (a.d. 828). From that time the “imperium” remained
with Wessex, which in the sixth and seventh centuries had been mostly held by
Northumberland, and in the eighth by Mercia.
St.
Augustine—a.d. 597.—It was to these Pagan English
that Pope Gregory, unable to go himself, sent Augustine from his own monastery
of St. Andrew, with forty followers. They had reached Provence, when they began
to hear awful rumours of that “ savage, fierce, and unbelieving people, whose
language even they did not understand,” and sent back Augustine to beg Gregory
to excuse them their dangerous task. But the Pope was inflexible, and they were
forced to continue their journey. At this time, happily for the missionaries,
/Ethelberht (who had married Berhte, a Erankish princess, and a Christian) was
king of East Kent and Bretwalda, as far as the Humber. When, therefore, they
landed 'with their Frank interpreters in the little isle of Thanet (separated
in those days from Kent by a branch of the Stour about one-third of a mile in
breadth), they were courteously welcomed by the king, who presently gave them
audience, and listened to their message. His answer was no less courteous, declining
indeed for himself to abandon abruptly the customs of his forefathers, but
allowing them to stay among his people, and to preach as they would. He
further
assigned them a house in Canterbury. There accordingly they lived, leading a
simple apostolic life, and using Queen Berhte’s venerable church of St. Martin
outside the gates, which dated from Roman times. At- first their converts were
few; but rapidly increased, when /Ethelberht himself was baptised, moved
thereto by the sight of their pure lives, and (says Bseda) their many miracles.
Shortly the king retired from Canterbury to Regulbium (Reculver), leaving his
palace and an adjacent church to Augustine, the second Constantine of a second
Sylvester, and here was built “ Christ Church,” the new cathedral, and very
near to it the great monastery of St. Peter and St. Paul, afterwards known by
Augustine’s own name.
Effects of
Christianity in England.—But it was
not all peace
that the Roman missionaries brought with them. Pierce quarrels arose between the
English clergy and the British Christians in Wales on various minor points, in
which the latter followed the Eastern, rather than the Latin custom (such as
the time for keeping Easter, the mode of tonsure, the marriage of priests, and
the like), and preferred to do so; while the former urged the paramount
authority of St. Peter and his See. And then there was the constant danger of
relapse, and of war between Pagans and Christians, for Latin Christianity was
but feebly rooted in England as yet. /Ethel- berht’s reign in Kent and
Eadwine’s in Northumberland, were in each case followed by a return to
paganism. In the latter case, indeed, it was not for long. In a few years
Northumbria became once more Christian, at the preaching of the Scottish Aidan,
whom King Oswald invited from the monastery of Hii (Iona), and made Bishop of
Lindisfarn; and the progress of Christianity, from north to south, would
doubtless have been more
rapid, but
for the obstinate heathenism and warlike genius of Penda the Mercian. As it
was, little was effected for the general Christianisation of England until
after his death (a.d. G55). Then
the Christian Oswio overran Mercia and East Anglia, and presently became
Bretwalda; and the wave of Christian civilisation, which , had flowed from
Scotland, and lifted Northumbria to the highest place among English kingdoms,
before long touched even the southern kingdoms, and last of all the South
Saxons.
Then followed
two centuries of brilliant missionary and intellectual activity, especially as contrasted
with the heathenism and darkness of Danish times to follow. There was a
constant stream of missionaries to the Continent, of pilgrims to Rome.
Learning, poetry, the arts began to flourish. Bosda, Credmon, Benedict, Biscop,
Aidan, Ceadda, Wilfrith, Aldhelm, W infrith (St. Boniface) are names which
attest the fact. But not only did Christianity stimulate the intellects of our
English forefathers, and bring them into constant and elevating contact with
foreigners, especially with Rome; it also mollified the general tone of
thought. Wars of extermination ere long ceased; and the Christian English were
content with the political subjection (instead of the extirpation) of the
Christian Welsh. Indeed, it seems hardly too much to say, that the stimulus of
Christianity contributed not a little to that general elevation of political
ideas, which resulted in the union of England under Ecgberht, first “King of
the English” (a.d. 828).
Gregory
as Bishop, Pope, and (virtual) King. —But the conversion of England, though to
England itself it was the beginning of a new life, and resulted remotely in the
conversion3 of Germany, was but a small
3 Cf. Milman’s Latin Cliristiauity, book
iv. cap. 5.
part of the
life work of Gregory the Great—to his own age probably the smallest. He was
Bishop of Borne, and ruled his diocese with diligence. He vigilantly
superintended the Church ritual and music, and the distribution of Papal
charities. He administered the Church property with equal strictness and
justice. He was also Pope,4 “ Father of Fathers,” and as such
exercised supervision over bishops and clergy, not only in Italy, but in
Greece, Gaul, and Sj^ain. This supremacy was a claim certainly not yet
acknowledged in words, yet continually acknowledged in deeds—a claim tacitly
made, sometimes resisted, more often allowed. When the Patriarch of
Constantinople openly assumed the title of “Universal Bishop,” as being bishop
of the capital, Gregory protested vehemently against the assumption of such a
title both to the Emperor and Empress, partly as derogating from the just
rights of St. Peter’s See, partly as a mark of pride. “ No one in the Church”
(he writes to the Patriarch himself), “has yet sacrilegiously dared to usurp
the name of Universal Bishop. Whoever calls himself Universal Bishop is
Antichrist.” This protest, however, was, in fact (however much Gregory may have
deceived himself), only a protest against the use by others of a title which
the Bishops of Eome were slowly learning to arrogate to themselves. The claim
to supremacy, which began in the fourth century, culminated in Innocent III,
(about a.d. 1200), and
Gregory was but one link in the long chain of Popes who, consciously or
unconsciously, aimed at despotic power. That it was a usurpation grounded in
the political troubles of the times may be true enough; but none the less it
was a usurpation. As Patriarch of the West, Gregory saw the downfall of
Arianism in both Gaul and Spain, and the conversion, as of the English, so of
the
4 Cf. Stanley’s Eastern Churcli, p. 98.
Lombards
through his influence with Queen Theodelinda. But Gregory was not only Bishop
and Pope; he was in influence, though not avowedly, a temporal sovereign. And
here it must be admitted this position was thrust upon him rather than of his
own seeking. The natural defenders of the Imperial city were unable or
unwilling to defend her; and the Pope had the best of titles in the love and
good-will of his subjects. During his pontificate Gregory found food in Sicily
for a famishing people, already decimated by plague, and he encouraged the
Eomans to stand a siege from Autliaris, the Lombard king (a.d. 593). Constautinople was very
far away ; and to men who had no visible rulers before their eyes, but the
fierce Lombard at Pavia, and the wretched Exarch at Ravenna, it is no wonder
that Gregory seemed a natural leader, a king with the best of credentials. It
is most important, therefore, to remember (as a clue to after history) that
Gregory was not oidy Pope, but that his high character won for him a position
as Patriarch of the West not reached by any of his predecessors; and that this
and political circumstances combined, gave him the position, though not the
name of king.
Gregory
II.—a.d. 716.—Gregory the Great
died March
10, a.d.
604; and the preponderating influence of the Papacy in the West
increased rather than diminished. Rome became increasingly the centre of the
faith. Now, however much this may have been due to the feebleness of the
Emperors who reigned between Heraclius and Leo III. (a.d. 641-718),—and this was really only one cause among
many,—it was certainly not due to the greatness or the character of the Popes.
In the century which elapsed between the death of Gregory the Great and the
accession of Gregory II. no less than twenty-four Popes filled the Papal Chair,
few of whom rose above utter
ROM. EM P.
Q
obscurity (a.d. 604-716). The high-handed
persecution and miserable death of Martin I. at the hands of Con- stans II. (a.d. 654) might fairly be matched
against the extraordinary vicissitudes and pitiless cruelties of the Emperor
Justinian II. (a.d. 685-711).
With the accession, however, of Pope Gregory II. (a.d. 716) and of the Emperor Leo. III. (a.d. 710), we enter on a new phase
of the history of Italy and of Christendom.
Rise
of Iconoclasm.—In the eighth century a religious question
arose—Iconoclasm—quite different to all previous religious questions. It was
nothing less than an attempt on the part of an Emperor to modify the religion
of his subjects, by his own mere fiat—to change the universal daily worship of
the Christian world. It was an attempt to proscribe the reverence—or worship—of
images. At the same time it differed from previous contests, in that it
originated with the Emperor himself— that it was probably suggested to his mind
from without and not from within, by acquaintance perhaps with Jewish and
Mohammedan ideas upon the subject—that it was a question, not of speculative
belief, but of daily ritual, affecting the inmost and inveterate feelings of
every age and class and sex—that it admitted, therefore, of no argument, but
only of appeals to force—lastly, that it was a purely negative doctrine, a sort
of premature Eationalism. A small minority in the Empire, headed by the
Emperor, conceived the idea (no matter how or whence) that it was wrong to
reverence, much more to worship, all images or pictures of sacred subjects; and
having conceived it, they tried to enforce it on the immense majority of their
fellow-Christians, of whose lives the deepest reverence, and in the case of the
great mass, the actual worship of these images had become an inseparable part.
The Church indeed in this, as in similar matters, had
shown great
practical wisdom, and in order to win the ignorant had adopted from Paganism
certain universal, harmless, perhaps beautiful customs, which, however, tended
to superstition. Such a custom was the use of altars, flowers, candles,
processions, holy water, incense, votive offerings, shrines at cross roads, and
the like. Such, too, was the use of images and pictures. But what was symbolism
to the educated, a beautiful aid to devotion, had become idolatry in the
uneducated, downright worship of the material image—an idolatry which tended
to localise, and therefore limit, divine power, and from which the history of
1000 years, and the sharp teaching of a seventy years’ captivity, could
scarcely wean the Jews. It was in spite of Christianity that such idolatry
lingered (and still lingers) in a Christian Church. Nevertheless, the attempt
to uproot it by force in the eighth century was an anachronism and a mistake.
Leo
III. the Isaurian—a.d. 717-741.—Leo
III. became Emperor in a.d. 717.
His father had migrated from Asia Minor to Thrace, and the son first saw
military service in the guards of Justinian II. Like Tiberius and Justin, and
the great Theodosius, the glory won in war raised him to the throne, on which
he sat for twenty-four years, and handed down the purple to the third
generation. In the second year of his reign he successfully defended the
capital for thirteen months against 120,000 Arabs and Persians under Moslemah,
the brother of the Caliph, his success being not a little due to the fatal5
“ Greek fire,” which for 400 years was the main defence of the Empire. And this
defeat of the Saracens by Leo (like the defeat of their brethren at Tours by
Charles Martel, in a.d. 732)
was one of the greatest events in history; for had the Saracens in either
5 Cf. Gibbon, Milman’s ed. vol. v. cap.
52, p. 182.
case been
victorious, it is hard to see how Christian civilisation could have withstood
the shock.
Attempts
to force Iconoclasm upon Christendom—a.d. 726.—Leo, to us, however, is mainly
interesting as the “ Iconoclast.” He had been nine years on the throne, when
he published his first edict against (as ye*t only) the worship of statues and
images (a.d. 726).
In four or five years (before a.d. 731)
a more severe edict followed, commanding their total destruction, and the white-washing
of all churches. It is difficult to imagine how a man with even Leo’s energy,
courage, and prestige, could begin so rash a contest. Eiots at once broke out
in the capital, in Greece, and the JEgean. In Constantinople an officer was
beaten to death by women while defacing an image of the Saviour.
Iconoclastic
Controversy in the East—a.d. 726-
842.—The monks throughout the Empire openly instigated rebellion. And for once
the Bishops of Rome and Constantinople were agreed. The arrival of the Imperial
edict in Ravenna (a.d. 728)
was the signal for instant insurrection against the Exarch Scholasticus, of
which the Lombard Luitprand availed himself to besiege and seize the city, and
to overrun the Pentapolis. In vain did the Pope write two letters to the
Emperor of mingled defiance and expostulation. In vain did the learned John of
Damascus publish three orations in defence of image worship. The Emperor Leo
and his son Constantine (a.d. 717-775)
wrere not men to recede lightly from a position deliberately
adopted; indeed, it would seem as if they had overawed or convinced a large
number of the eastern clergy, for the third Council of Constantinople was
attended by 348 bishops, who unanimously condemned the worship of images (a.d. 746). And not only so ; Constantine
inaugurated, and his sub
jects
apparently abetted liim in a cruel persecution of the monks; and had succeeding
emperors held the same views and possessed similar resolution, the eighth
century might have seen the final destruction of image worship in the East. But
in a.d. 780, the Empire
fell into the hands of a woman, the Empress Irene, who was at once ambitious
and superstitious. Her heart was set upon restoring image worship at any cost;
and by persistent intrigue for five years, she succeeded in convoking a council
of about 370 ecclesiastics at Niceea (a.d.
785), who proclaimed the lawfulness of images and pictures as “holy
memorials, to be Avorshipped and kissed,” and anathematized all who called
images idols. Nor was her heart less set upon retaining power; for in a.d. 797, in order to oust her son
Constantine, she had him seized and brutally blinded, so that he almost died.
Images were finally re-established as legal in the Eastern Church by the
Empress Theodora (a.d. 842).
Attitude
of the Popes in the West.—a.d. 726-
740.—In the West, meanwhile, matters were progressing at a rapid pace. In a.d. 730, a council was held by
Gregory II. at Rome, which renounced communion with the Emperor. The first act
of Gregory III. (a.d. 731-741)
was to acquaint the Byzantine court with his adherence to his predecessor’s
views; and his next to decree, by a council at Rome (a.d. 732), that “whoever should overthrow, &c., the
images of Christ and the glorious Virgin, of the blessed apostles and saints,
was banished from the unity of the Church.” The Pope himself set the example of
image worship on the grandest scale. In the same year, moreover, the last great
effort on the part of the Eastern Empire to reduce Italy and the Pope once
again to subjection, ended in utter failure. A large combined fleet and army on
its way to Italy was
caught iu a
violent storra in the Adriatic and utterly destroyed. For twenty years more,
indeed, the Exarch maintained a precarious position in Eavenna, finally
abandoning it for Naples; and the Empire learned to acquiesce in an inevitable
loss. But to the Pope this virtual victory over the Empire might well seem to
involve a virtual subjection to the hated Lombards— hated even though they were
no longer Arians. A new barbarian kingdom seemed on the point of absorbing all
Italy. Gregory looked round for help, being cut off in reality (though not in
name) from all connection with Constantinople, and found it across the Alps.
The alliance, now begun, between the Papacy and the Franks was a “Eevolution,”
fruitful in consequences little foreseen and not yet exhausted, which have
affected all subsequent history.
EXARCHATE. STRIA
. VENICE . APLES.
OME . ALABRIA
. ICILY. SARDINIA . CORSICA .
REST OF ITAL
te Chap.
Xil'i.
boiil
A.D. jelween i Greek
ITALY
from about A D. 600-750, as divided between flie Lombards A: I he Greek Empire
NAPLES ROME
CALABRIA SICILY SARDINIA CORSICA LDMBAROS - REST OF
To illuslratr
t'liap Xlft.
THE
FRANKS AND THE PAPACY.—A.D. 500-800.
The
Franks. —In
the middle of the eighth century the Imperial power in Italy was dead, and the
Pope and the Lombards were left alone face to face. Bnt the exaggerated, if not
entirely unfounded, horror with which the Church regarded the Lombards rendered
peace between them impossible; and when Luitprand’s conquests threatened Eome
and all Italy with subjection, Gregory III., a.d.
731-741 (treading in the footsteps of Gregory
II.),
appealed for aid to the mighty Frank beyond the Alps, Charles Martel, whose
name was in every mouth as the saviour of Europe from the hitherto invincible
Mohammedans. A clear understanding of the history of the Franks in Gaul, and of
their relations to the Papacy, is an essential introduction to the study of the
history of Germany, Italy, and France; and the appeal of Gregory to Charles
marks the moment when the dignity and power of “Roman Emperor” was about to
pass into quite other hands, and with other prerogatives than heretofore.
Gaul
under the Romans.—For 400 years Gaul was a province of
the Roman Empire, incorporated with it more entirely, perhaps, than any other
province. Its conquest had been thorough in the first instance, and the Roman
system had been applied with success. The sur-
face of the
country was covered with more than 100 manicipia; schools were widely
established by Augustus and by Claudius; many writers of eminence were born and
lived there; wealth abounded. But, below a brilliant surface, there were
causes of decay similar to those which were the ruin of Italy. The sentiment of
nationality was gradually destroyed when Gaul became only a part of a vast
empire, and was not replaced by any feeling of “ loyalty,” which the Empire
indeed was hardly calculated to arouse.1 When the Emperor Honorius,
in the fifth century, tried to galvanise into life the Gallic patriotism by
reviving the annual “diet” at Arles, no response whatever was made to the
proposal. The Keltic language and religion retreated into Brittany before the
Roman tongue and Roman Christianity. The Imperial system, moreover, spoiled the
municipal; and its taxation, at once crushing and unfairly assessed,
impoverished the farmers and landed proprietors. And the same latifundia which
had ruined Italy ruined Gaul also, and for similar reasons. But in Gaul, as in
Italy, one class of men increased in influence, as all around them decayed.
However intolerant or grasping they may have been, the Christian clergy'—brave,
moral, and educated—stepped into the place of the fading Empire, resisted it
when tyrannical, wielded its powers when decrepit, and alone presented a
courageous front to wrong, vice, and barbarism.
Invasion
of Roman Gaul—a.d. 406.—Such
(briefly) was the state of the province, when it was suddenly overwhelmed at
the beginning of the fifth century by the long- dreaded inroad of barbarians
from beyond the Rhine and the Alps. Vandals, Suevi, Burgundians, Visigoths,
Franks, together or successively, swept across or occupied the unhappy
province. The two first passed on into Spain and 1 Cf. Guizot’s Hist.
Civilisation, vol. i. p. 31.
Africa, the
others remained to subdue and eventually divide Gaul between them, though but
little is known of their mutual relations until the end of the century.
Gaul
divided between Visigoths, Burgundians,
I
and Franks.—Speaking generally, by the year a.d. 490 I the Visigoths were
masters of the country between the I Rhone, the
Loire, the Atlantic, and the Garonne; the Burgundians of that between the
Rhone, the Saone, and the Alps; and the Franks of nearly all the rest (with the
exception of the Keltic Armorica or Brittany) as far as the month of the Rhine.
But the Frank Empire was not only on the west of the river, but comprised a
large, though ill-defined tract between the Rhine and the Weser, which touched
the Saxons on the north and the Alemanni on the south. Amidst this drifting
mass of diverse peoples—of High Dutch and Low Dutch, of Romans, Kelts, and
Basques—there was no controlling central power until the time of Chlodwig
(Clovis, Ludwig, Lewis, a.d. 486-511).
Chlodwig
and the Merwing Dynasty—a.d. 486-
752.—By a fortunate marriage with the orthodox Chlothild of Burgundy, which
resulted in the conversion of himself and his people, and secured to him the
support of the Catholic clergy, and by a series of successful struggles with
successive foes, Chlodwig became practical lord of the whole of Gaul and of all
Franks between the Weser and Garonne, and virtual founder of the Merwing
(Merovingian) rulers in Francia, both Eastern and Western; for Francia
comprised two very different. populations. On the eastern sideoFthe Scheldt and
the Marne (Austrasia) were pure Franks of, the old stock, who spoke German and
followed German customs; on the western side (Neustria) were Franks, modified
by contact with Roman civilisation and moro settled life. Among the latter, as
was natural, despotic ideas of centralisation became predominant; among the
former
aristocratical ideas. Hence followed strong feeling and jealous rivalry; and,
indeed, the story of the 180 years which followed the death of Chlodwig
(511-687), is the story of a constant struggle for power between Neustria and
Austrasia, which was settled in favour of the latter by the battle of Testry.
The reduction, however, by Chlodwig of Burgundy (a.d. 500) and Aquitaine (a.d. 507) was rather an irruption than a conquest, for
they were lost almost as soon as won, the Merwing dominion consisting properly
of Western Germany and Northern Gaul. The glory of the family culminated in
Dagobert I. (a.d. 628-638),
whose influence touched Brittany on one side and the Pyrenees on the other.
Allied with Lombards in Italy and Yisigotlis in Spain, he sent an embassy to
Heraclius at Constantinople,^and chastised the aggressions of Slavonians and
Bulgarians in Germany, while he chose able men to help him govern. However, in
spite of one or two bright exceptions, the Merwings were mere barbarians
compared with the Karlings who followed. The warlike energy of the nation,
indeed, backed by the unhesitating support of the Church, carried their victorious
arms over half Europe; but there was the same lack of organisation and
discipline in the subjects, of fixed purpose and policy in the kings, which
marked the early records of the Northmen in the ninth and tenth centuries.
Rise
of the Mayors of the Palace.—Almost all their kings were mere cyphers,
surrounded by a number of fierce territorial chieftains, overshadowed more and
more by the rising power of the “ Major-domus,” who, being at first only the
master of the royal household, rose to command the Antrustions2
(the Principes of Tacitus), and at last to preside over the dukes, counts, and
bishops of the great council. Such powers in the hands of a series of
4 Cf. Tacitus’ Germania, caps. vii. and xi.
to xiv.
able men
(like the family of Pippin) soon obscured those of the merely nominal cyning
(king), or leader of the people, who was reserved (as Eginhard tells us) for
the merely formal duties of kingship. The power of these “ mayors ” reached its
highest pitch in Pippin of Heristal, the Austrasian, and his sons. They secured
the supremacy of Austrasia over ISTeustria, and the reversion of royal power
for themselves.
Charles
Martel—Battle of Tours—a.d. 732.—
Charles, the son of Pippin, indeed gained a glory all his own. He defeated the
Saracens at Tours (a.d. 732).
The bareness of such a statement ill reflects the true import of such a
conflict, or its vast consequences. It was but a century since Mohammed had
died; yet half the old Eoman Empire was Mohammedan, and from the Oxus to the
Pyrenees the Arabs had conquered almost without a check. As yet, moreover, they
were at amity among themselves; and the Saracen armies in Spain and Gaul were
led by an experienced general, Abderrahman. In a.d. 732 he crossed the Pyrenees with a force of 100,000
men (not for the first time), and met with little serious resistance in the
south of Gaul. His African light cavalry (like Hannibal’s Numidians) were
equally serviceable for battle, for pillage, or for reconnoitring, and carried
the terror of the Saracen name as far north as the Loire. Count Eudes in
Aquitaine attempted resistance, but was swept away in the torrent. And Charles,
meanwhile, the Austrasian Mayor, was busy with a Saxon war far away. But the
pressing danger, the panic of Christian Gaul, presently recalled him. The two
armies met on the banks of the Loire near Tours, and even Arab historians admit
that the defeat of their forces was complete, “a disgraceful overthrow.” Eor
one whole day the battle raged with no decisive result, night parting the com
batants. It
was renewed at the following dawn. But a too long course of unbroken victory
had shaken the steadiness and lowered the morale of the Arab armies. In the
midst of the struggle a rumour ran, like an electric current, through the
Mohammedan lines, that a division of Franks was attacking and spoiling their
camp, in which was piled great store of wealth, the plunder of Aquitaine. At
once a large body of Arab horsemen rode off to save their booty. To their
comrades it looked like flight, and the rest of the army began to waver. It was
the critical moment, which comes in every battle, when one army becomes
conscious of its moral inferiority to the other as a whole, and, despite the
courage and exertions of individuals, is already virtually beaten. In vain did
Abderrah- man strive to check the confusion. He was pierced by a Frankish
spear, and fell, and his fall was the signal for a general flight. We need not
admit the preposterous estimates of monkish chroniclers as to the relative
losses on either side, in order to perceive that Tours was to Europe a
“crowning mercy.”
Results
of Charles’ Victory.—The defeat of the Saracens at Tours, even more than their
repulse from Constantinople, meant the salvation of Christendom from an
enforced return to the lethargy, sterility, and arrested development which has
always marked Mohammedanism. Had the Franks been defeated, there was no power
strong enough to arrest the Arab progress ; and what has been said with truth
of the victory of Arminius over Yarus (a.d. 9), is said with equal truth of the victory of
Tours, that it was “ one of those signal deliverances which have affected for
centuries the happiness of mankind.”3 Gregory III. Appeals to
Charles—a.d^_73S.— The fame of Charles “ The Hammer ” was measured by
3 Arnold's Rom. Commonwealth, ii. p. 317.
the previous
panic of Christian Europe. He might seem even the Protector of Christianity
itself. It was little wonder that Pope Gregory TIL, hopeless of aid from any
other source, and plundered and insulted by the Lom-/ bards, should have sent a
letter of piteous entreaty I imploring Charles’ aid. It seems, indeed, that
Gregory deserved his fate; for he had encouraged a Lombard Duke of Spoleto to
rebel against King Luitprand, in revenge for which the king wasted the Papal
territory, and even probably plundered St. Peter’s itself. On the other hand,
it is impossible that Gregory should have realised the full importance of his
own appeal; for it was nothing less than the first step in a gigantic
revolution, from which the Pope was to emerge as a temporal sovereign, and the
Frankish king as “ Holy Eoman Emperor.” In Gregory’s appeal was involved the
very kernel of mediaeval history.
Th(Pactual
offer made by the Pope was perhaps intentionally vague. He sent the very keys
of the tomb of St. Peter. He named Charles Patrician and Consul. But were these
mere bribes, or actual symbols of an allegiance transferred from the Greek to
the Frank ? Which they were, it is hard to say; yet two things are clear, that
at this stage of the matter neither of the parties was at all alive to the
consequences of their new relation; while, 011 the other hand, indefinite
jealousies, claims, and encroachments were possibly involved.
Gregory
Succeeded by Pope Zacharias—a.d. 741.
—Both Charles and Gregory, however, died in the autumn of a.d. 741; and the new Pope Zacharias (a.d. 741-752) was a different man to
Gregory. He combined a majesty and a gentleness truly apostolic, with a far
greater insight into character than his predecessors. Where Gregory had quailed
before Luitprand, Zacharias led him with threads of
silk. The
Lombard was warlike and ambitious; but he was also sincerely religious, with
the religion of a superstitious and illiterate barbarian. Twice did the Pope
interfere between Luitprand and his cherished plans of aggrandisement,
imploring, threatening, almost forbidding; and twice the Lombard yielded. It is
indeed essential to remark how rapidly the influence of the Church was growing
among the new-formed nations, thanks to the intelligence, firmness, and moral
purity of the clergy; as well as to note the fact that Church authorities were
beginning to use their enormous, though undefined, power for purposes purely
secular. Already kings were abandoning the throne for the monastery, as a
purer and happier sphere. Carloman did so, the son of Charles Martel— a king in
all but the name; Eachis, the Lombard, did so; and when Pippin, Carlo man’s
brother, supplanted the Merwing by the Karling dynasty, nothing seemed more
natural than that the wretched Chilperic should retire to the peaceful
obscurity of a monastery.
Coronation
of Pippin.—a.d. 752.—This
great revolution was scarcely perceived in passing. Pippin was elected, as by
ancient Frankish custom, by the clash of arms and elevation on a buckler; but
the election was sanctioned by the Pope, and Christian bishops were standing
round, and the holy oil, the symbol of divine right, was poured on his head by
the English Boniface, Archbishop of Mentz (a.d.
752). It was the tirst'TimfT"in history, but not the last, that
the Church sanctioned the transfer of a crown; and on this the first occasion
her motives were transparently secular, if not selfish. Sanction on the one
side was bartered for protection on the other.
Pippin
and Pope Stephen—a.d. 753-55.—And
the protection was soon sorely needed. Luitprand was
dead, and
Astolph was king of the Lombards, a man of energy little burdened with
scruples. He entered the Exarchate and seized Ravenna. He quarrelled with the
Pope and advanced on Rome, deaf alike to threats and entreaties. Stephen in
despair, for Zacharias was now dead, fled to Gaul and implored, not in vain,
the aid of Pippin. But Astolph, aware of the coming storm, persuaded Carloman
to leave his convent and claim the Austrasian crown, hoping to sever the
alliance between Stephen and his brother. It was a vain attempt, and only ended
in the lifelong imprisonment of Carloman, as a monk who had broken his vows.
Pippin and Stephen crossed the Alps, and Astolph was shut up in Pavia, and made
to swear to restore all Roman territory. But such vows are “writ in water.”
jSTo soonerwere the Alps between the Franks and himself, than Astolph marched
once more upon Rome, and demanded the surrender of the Pope. Once, and yet a
second time, did Stephen send agonized letters imploring Pippin’s instant
return. Victory over all barbarian nations was the promised reward, and eternal
life. But there was terrible delay. The Frank did not come. And at last, in a
paroxysm of terror (it is the only conceivable defence), Stephen sent a letter
purporting to have been written by St. Peter himself, adjuring Pippin, in the
name of the “ Mother of God,” to save her beloved Rome from the detested
Lombards, and promising again protection and victory in this life, certain
salvation in the next. Pippin delayed no more, and recrossed the Alps; while
Astolph, forced to throw himself hastily into Pavia, was there besieged and
reduced to yield to all demands.
Pippin’s
“Donation” to the Papacy.—The Exarchate was wrested with impartial violence
from Eastern Empire and Lombard king, and bestowed by the
sword of the
stronger on the Eishop of Rome, who thus became a temporal sovereign, with all
a sovereign's prerogatives, taxation, justiceTand the like. The “donation” was
presently increased by the voluntary surrender of the Duchy of Spoleto, and
afterwards confirmed by Charles the Great to Pope Hadrian, and increased to
comprise a large part of Italy. On the other hand, Pippin received the title of
Patrician of Rome, a name implying powers both vague and extensive. The Lombard
Astolph did not long survive this last humiliation, and with his death the
weakness inherent in the Lombard kingdom, whose numbers were comparatively few,
and whose central government was comparatively feeble owing to the turbulence
and independence of the great chieftains, rapidly resulted in its ruin.
Desiderius, the last of the Lombard kings (a.d.
757-774), was at intervals, indeed, at peace and amity with the
Pope, and an ally of Charles, wrlio married his daughter Hermingard;
but the alliance and the amity were alike short-lived, and both Lombards and
Italians were absorbed ere long into the “ Roman Empire ” resuscitated by
Charles the Great.
Charles
Succeeds Pippin—a.d. 768-774.—Pippin
died in a.d. 768, and
divided his dominions (according to custom) between his sons Charles and
Carloman. Happily for the peace of Francia, the latter died within three years (a.d. 771), and Charles restored or
usurped the undivided kingdom of his father. The widow and the sons of Carloman
at once took refuge with Desiderius, for Charles had divorced Hermingard only a
year after his marriage, to wed the Suabian Hildegard, and Desiderius was eager
for revenge. On which side was Pope Hadrian to range himself % His predecessor
Stephen had protested against Charles’ marriage with Hermingard at all—not,
indeed, on the Christian ground that he was married
already, but
on the nn-Christian ground that any alliance between “ noble” Frank and “
foetid, leprous” Lombard was abominable, detestable, devilish. And now the
claims of righteousness might likewise seem to call for disapproval of the
usurping adulterous Charles, and a hearty support of Carloman’s sons and their
friend De- siderius. But Hadrian was wise in his generation, and steadily declined
to commit himself. The Pope’s hesitation, and the murder in Eome of one of his
own partisans, incensed the Lombard into ravaging Eomania (the Bo- magna), and
even advancing on Eome. But Hadrian was neither a coward like Stephen, nor an
apostle like Zacharias. He gathered troops, strengthened fortifications.
barricaded the Vatican, and sent off hasty appeals to Charles for help; and
then fell back on his spiritual weapons, threatening Desiderius with
excommunication if he dared to attack him. The Lombard, blind to his danger,
refused all negotiations; his son, Adelchis, even defeated a Frank army in the
Alps. But it was only deferring the evil day. The Lombards were but a handful
in the midst of a native population, Avho looked on the Pope as their “head,”
and the Franks as their “deliverers.” Charles passed the Alps, and in a moment
(as it were) was master of all North Italy, except the cities of Pavia and
Verona, in which Desiderius and Adelchis respectively were blockaded (a.d. 77-1).
Charles Increases the “Donation.”—
At Easter he went on to Rome, and being there
welcomed Avith such honours as became so orthodox and useful a champion, added
to and ratified the donation of land made by his father Pippin. For Pavia had
fallen; Desiderius was in a monastery; Adelchis had fled to Constantinople; and
the whole territory of the Exarchate, and a part of that of the Lombards, was
confirmed as the possession of the
Charles
Crowned Emperor of the West—a.d. 800.—But
even the protection of the great Frank did not save the Popes from troubles.
The Archbishop of Ravenna refused submission to Hadrian (a.d. 775), and the Lombards
rebelled against him (a.d. 787).
Leo III. was set upon during a solemn procession by two nephews and an armed
train, beaten, mutilated, half-murdered (a.d.
799). It seemed indeed more than ever necessary to hold fast a
powerful protector by strong chains. In the next year Charles crossed the Alps
in the late autumn, and Leo, after a solemn trial, was acquitted of certain
charges brought against him. And Charles and Leo, Franks and Italians, nobles,
clergy, people were assembled at Rome in crowds to celebrate Christmas. All had
met together for the solemn service. The Basilica of St. Peter’s was crowded.
The Pope himself chanted high mass. At its close he advanced from his throne in
the centre of the apse, and in the sight of the vast congregation placed on
Charles’ head, as he knelt in prayer by the altar, the diadem of the Ctesars,
while the great church rang with the shout, “ Ivarolo Augusto, a Deo coronato
magno et pacifico Imperatori, vita et victoria.” In spite of the assertion that
Charles disliked the proceeding, and had he known the intentions of the Pontiff
would not have entered the church, it is difficult to believe in the spontaneity
of the spectacle, or to doubt that it was prearranged between Leo and Charles.
But whether prearranged or spontaneous matters little; the fact remains. The
current of the world’s history was changed.
Results of Coronation.—
What, then, was the meaning of this apparently simple act of
gratitude? and in what results did it end? It was certainly an act of
gratitude (as well as something else) on the part of the Romans, and of Leo
their representative, who despised the Greeks and hated the Lombards, and might
expect in the future, as they had experienced in the past, the friendship and
protection of the Franks. But it was more than this. It was a recognition of
the “ logic of facts,” that the Eastern Empire was a defunct power in Italy,
and that the political “ centre of gravity” had shifted. For (he it remembered)
neither the title nor the office of Emperor was new, nor was the actual power
of Charles in any way increased, but only its character changed. And the change
was a striking one. Once more the Imperial city gave an Emperor to the West;
and that Emperor was neither Roman nor Italian, but German. No longer were
charters to be dated or money to be coined in the name of a titular “ Roman
Emperor” at Constantinople, but of one who was not only patrician, like Pippin
and Pippin’s father, or king, like Theodoric, but actual Emperor of the West,
like Theodosius. Power was recognised as being where in reality it was. One new
factor,however, was introduced into the matter, whose powers were
unfortunately indefinite. It was clear to all that the Imperial crown had been
bestowed by the hands of the Pope. The question arose in after days, Did he
give it as of right; and if so, whence came the right? For the time indeed the
question did not even suggest itself, so humble and weak was the Pope, so
immeasurably great was the Emperor; but the greatness of the Emperor was
personal and comensurate only with his life, while the lmmility of a Pope
detracted nothing from the growing majesty of the Papacy. The prescriptive
prerogatives of even an Emperor were
It remains to speak shortly of Charles himself—his conquests and character—as of a man who, while he handed down to his successors the dubious advantage of the Imperial title, was himself the first founder of German unity,—a man who was so “great” in every sense, that he took captive (like Attila) the imaginations of the men of his own and succeeding ages, and became the typical hero of mediaeval romance.
Conquests of Charles the Great.—
The conquests of Charles were the foundation of the great
German kingdom. His wars lasted almost without interruption for forty-six
years, during which he swept across Europe from the Ebro to the Oder, from
Brittany to Hungary,—never meeting, it may be, with any really serious
antagonist, yet always needing skill, perseverance, and sleepless energy.
Aquitaine he pacified in six months. The Lombards he reduced in less than two
years. Against the Avars, by himself or his lieutenants, he waged eight
successive campaigns (a.d. 791-9),
against the Saxons no less than thirty two,—the latter a “religious war,” and
waged with all the tender mercies that distinguish such auomalies. The Frank
arms were seen in Slavonia, Brittany, Bavaria, Bohemia, Southern Italy, and
Spain. In the last-named country alone, and against the Saracens, he met with
little success; Saragossa was besieged
His
Policy.—Not that all this success was achieved by mere activity. Charles showed
the
qualities which all great generals show; he improved his war material, his
armour, his breed of horses; he out-generalled his enemies by superior tactics,
as in his first campaign against the Avars, when he adopted a double base of
operations, and anticipated the strategy of Napoleon’s famous campaign
of Austerlitz (a.d. 1805); he
combined self-reliance with reliance on his subordinates; he did not
forget policy on the battle-field, but in Italy as in Spain was the champion
of vanquished against victors, of oppressed against oppressors. He conciliated
the affection of his German subjects by maintaining German institutions. He
courted the alliance of neighbouring kings, of the Kings of Scots and the
Asturias, of Offa of Mercia, and Ecgberht of Wessex, as well as that of more
distant and powerful rulers like the Emperor at Constantinople, or the Caliph
at Bagdad. He remained from first to last a staunch friend of the Church, its
too liberal benefactor; going far, by the immunities and privileges which he granted,
to
Character and Person of Charles.—
It sometimes adds life and definiteness to our ideas of
a man, if we can picture to ourselves his appearance and personal characteristics;
and in Charles’ case this is comparatively easy with the minute account left us
by Eginhard (or Einhard), his Minister of Public Works. He was every inch a
king. Tall and robust, he had a dome-like head, large and piercing eyes, white
hair, and an expression full of grace and dignity; and so excellent was his
constitution, that until he was seventy he did not know what illness meant. He
was passionately devoted to riding, hunting, and swimming; for which latter
reason he made Aachen, with its natural warm springs, his favourite home; and
bathing parties were one of the common amusements of his court, in which 100
persons or more would take part at a time. He had a quaint humour, and
appreciated it in others, as when on a day of storm and rain he
made his courtiers, all in furs and silk, accompany him in a sudden hunting
frolic; or concocted a scheme with a Jew pedlar for palming off on some bishop
an embalmed rat, as an animal till then unknown. So
intense, in
fact, was the mere animal life in Charles, that he seemed to throw all his
energy into whatever he was doing, and to do it better than anything else, far
better than any one else. His dress and his habits were equally simple.
Drunkenness, the bosom sin of his countrymen, was not one of his; while the
chastity, however, which distinguished them, was by him more honoured in the breach
than the observance. He loved to be read to at meals, especially from St.
Augustine, or from those “ Barbara et. antiquis- sima carmina,” which were the
backbone of the Nibelungenlied.He was a clear and fluent
speaker, having perfect command of Latin, and understanding Greek—an eager
student of logic and astronomy. His one insuperable difficulty was writing,
which no efforts enabled him to master. His generous nature led him to scatter
charity broadcast; poor Christians received his alms even so far afield as
Syria, Egypt, Carthage. It is hardly needfid to add that the Popes were loaded
with presents, rich and unnumbered. On the whole, of all the men whom the world
has agreed to call “ great,” it will be hard to find more than one or two, Avho
can equal, much less surpass, Charles the Frank. He was as energetic and
undaunted as Frederick of Prussia, as eager a civiliser as Peter of Russia;
hardly less successful than Alexander or Napoleon, yet greater than any of
them, more generous, more simple, more superior to all his contemporaries,
Perhaps one man only in history has been the equal of Charles in energy,
courage, wisdom, and success, while morally far superior, and that was the
English Aelfred.
General Summary.—
We have thus traced the history of 400 years, which have an interest
peculiarly their own. Change of some sort is a matter of course in so long a
period of every nation’s life—change of thought,
manners, ancd
laws. The Greece of the Achaean Leagne differed from that of Themistocles, as
the Rome of Ctesar from that of the Decemvirate, or the England of the
nineteenth century from that of the fifteenth; but it was not the same kind of
difference as existed between the Rome of Ca3sar and the Rome of Theodoric, or
of Gregory, or of Charles. It is no longer the same people, living in the same
land, whose ideas and customs change as they conquer or are conquered by other
nations, or as the balance of wealth and power is transferred from one class of
society to another. We are concerned with an “ Empire ”—many nations, not one
only—and that an Empire whose population itself was far more deeply modified
(if not wholly changed) than the institutions or customs which ruled it. Look at
it in the fourth century, and it might seem that a State, so welded together by
a far- reaching, all pervading uniformity had nothing to fear from the attacks
of barbarians. Look at it in the ninth century, and a hasty glance hardly
detects any relics of the old Imperial State. Amid Christians and Moham niedans
— between Greeks, Italians, Lombards, Avars, Goths, and Franks—all seems
confusion, disunion, strife. But this book will have been written in vain if it
has not shown a “ continuity of history” even in these confused 400 years. The
Imperial Government in the West passed away, it is true, but Imperial ideas
survived. Barbarian kings bore sway; but in theory they were lieutenants of the
Emperor at Constantinople; till one among them revived what was only in
abeyance, the Roman Empire of the West, to drag on a lingering existence even
into our own century. As Grecce took captive the conquering Roman, so Rome
took captive the conquering barbarian, and gave him her language, ideas, laws,
and religion. What looked in the fifth century like
THE
SYNOPSIS
OF HISTORICAL EVENTS.
GENEALOGY OF
FAMILY OF THEODOSIUS.
_
Theodosius I. (379-395.) _
(Elia
Flacilla (1st wife). Galla (2d wife).
Gratian.
Pulcheria. Arcadius. Honorius.
Flacilla.
Pulcheria = Marcian.
I I I
Arcadia.
Theodosius II. Marina.
Flacilla
{2
Placidia =
Eudoxia
Valentinian
III.
1. Ataulphus.
br. of
Alaric.
2. Constantins
Honoria. Valentinian HI.
(Placidia. Eudoxia. ) (= olybrius. - Hunneric.)"
Ilderic
(killed 533).
|
a.d. |
WEST. |
A.D. |
EAST. |
|
395 |
Honori
us... Emperor. |
|
Arcadius...
Emperor. |
|
|
(=
Stilicho, the Vandal.) |
|
(
= Rufinus, the Gaul.) |
|
396 |
Campaign
of Stilicho • • • |
|
against
Alaric the Visigoth in Greece. |
|
|
|
39S |
Chrysostom,
Abp. of Constantinople. |
|
|
|
|
(398-403.) |
|
402 |
Alaric
crosses Alps into Italy. |
|
|
|
403 |
Battle
of Pollentia. |
|
|
|
|
Capital
of West changed from Milan to |
|
|
|
|
Ravenna. |
|
|
|
|
|
404 |
Chrysostom
in exile at Cucusus. |
|
405 |
Inroad
of Vandals, Suevi, Alani, and |
|
|
|
|
Burgundians
under Radagaisus into |
|
|
|
|
Italy
and Gaul |
407 |
Death
of Chrysostom. |
|
40S |
Murder
of Stilicho. |
408 |
Theodosius
II. |
|
|
First
siege of Rome by Alaric. |
|
|
|
409 |
Second
siege of Rome by Alaric. |
|
|
|
|
Withdrawal
of Romans from Britain. |
|
|
|
410 |
Third
siege and sack of Rome. |
|
|
|
|
Death
of Alaric. |
|
|
|
419 |
Final
settlement of Visigoths in Aquitaine |
|
|
|
|
=
Capital, Toulouse. |
|
|
|
423 |
Valentinian
III. |
|
|
|
|
|
428 |
Nestorius,
the heretic, patriarch of |
|
|
|
|
Constantinople. |
|
429 |
Vandals
under Genseric to Africa. |
|
|
|
|
[Vandal
Empire = 431-534.] |
|
|
|
|
Death
of S. Augustine. |
|
|
|
|
|
431 |
Deposition
of Nestorius at Council of |
|
|
|
|
Ephesus. |
WEST.
Conquest of
Britain by the English. (449-550.)
Attila
invades Gaul.
Battle
of Chalons.
The Huns
invade Italy.
Death of
Attila.
Maximus.
Rome sacked
by the Vandals.
Avitus [ = Ricimer].
Majorian [ = Ricimer].
Sererus [ = Ricimer],
Anthemius
[by Leo].
Joint expedition
from Rome liscus against Carthage.
Olybrius.
Glycerius.
Julius Nepos.
Romulus Augustulus.
Odoacer.
Chlodwig the
Frank in Gaul, founder of the Merwing Dynasty.
Theodoric.
/ Ostrogothic
Kingdom of Italy." 493-553.
(Son of
Amalason- Athalaric ■! tha, Theodoric’s ( daughter.
African
Campaign
Theodatus.
Italian
Campaign
Vitiges.
Surrender of
Ravenna
Theodebatd.
Araric.
Totila.
Belisarius.
Totila o. |2_
Narges_
Teias.
Narses,
Exarch of Ravenna.
PExarchate of
Ravenna lasts from 554' L to 752.
EAST.
^ Inroads of
Huns under Attila into j Greece.
Pulcheria
(= Marcian). Council of Chalcedon.
Leo
I.
and
Constantinople under Basi-
Leo
II.
Zeno.
The
Ostrogoths under Theodoric on the Danube.
Anastasius
I.
Inroad of
Persians under Cobades. Justin I. (a Dacian).
Justinian.
The Nika
Riots, of Belisarius.
of
Belisarius.
to
Belisarius.
Inroad of
Persians under Chosroes, Persian Campaign of Belisarius.
Embassy of
Avars to Constant, followed by embassy from Turks.
Justin
II.
The Lombards
and Avars unite to destroy the Gepidas on the Danube.
WEST.
Lombard
Invasion of Italy.
[Lombard
Kingdom = 567-774.]
Pope
Gregory the Great. (590-604.)
Mission of
Augustine to England.
Dagobcrt I.,
the greatest of the Mer- wings in Gaul.
Mohammedan
Conquest of Africa. Mohammedan Conquest of Spain.
ICONO-
Council of
Rome ( Gregory II. i\ Iconoclasm. (Gregory III.
Battle
of Tours.
Gregory III.
appeals to Franks v. Lombards.
Lombards
conquer Exarchate.
Pope
Zacharias sanctions deposition of} Chilperic by Pippin = Karlings vice
Merwings. )
Pippin's “
Donation ” to Pope Stephen= Foundation of Temporal Power.
Charles the Great.
(771-SI4.)
Charles
crowned by Leo III. in St Peter's Emi’ehou of tub West.
EAST.
Tiberius
II. Maurice.
Avar Empire
under Baian = successful campaigns of Priscus. 595-602.
Phocas.
Heraclius
I.
| Great
Persian Invasion = conquest of,' ) Holy Land, Syria, Egypt.
Embassy from
Mohammed to Chosroes. Persian campaigns of Heraclius.
(622-628.) .
The
Hegira. j
Siege of
Constantinople by combined1 Persian and Avar armies.
Death of
Mohammed.
) Mohammedans
conquer Syria and f Egypt.
Constantine III.
Constans II.
Constantine IV. (Pogonatus). Mohammedans besiege
Constantinople, f Justinian II. (banished by)
J Leontius I.
(one of his generals.)
] Tiberius
111.
(_ Justinian
restored.
Philippicus.
Anastasius
11.
Theodosius
111.
Leo
111. (the Isaurian).
CLASM.
Second
Mohammedan siege of Constantinople. (717-718 = 13 months.)
Final attempt
(and failure) of Eastern Empire to reconquer Italy.
Constantine
V. (Copronymus).
Council of
Constantinople condemns “all visible symbols of Christ except in
Eucharist."
Leo IV.
Constantine VI. (I’Orphyrogcnitus). Irene.
(797-S02.)