Julian, Christianity was the established religion of the Empire. It was
popular; the whole world was becoming Christian. Wealth poured into the
Church: kings and princes came into its pale bringing their presents.
The learned men of the world were the champions of the religion of
Jesus. But truly judging from its moral effect on the age, the Church
"knew not the day of her visitation." However much honor we may owe them
for settling the faith of Christianity, it must be acknowledged that the
Nicene and post-Nicene Fathers spent their strength in advocating and
glorifying an unnatural virginity--a pitiable substitute for a higher
social morality and purer morals for the ordinary individual. Without a
first-hand acquaintance with those ancient writers, it is impossible to
conceive to what a degree the idea of celibacy was exalted in their
teachings. It overshadowed everything else. It overturned every
establishment of reason. It vitiated all the pure springs of life. It
proceeded on the assumption that everything that is natural is
monstrously evil. Gibbon is too indulgent when, as it were with a smile
of careless contempt, he thus characterizes this maudlin asceticism:
"The chaste severity of the Fathers, in whatever related to the commerce
of the two sexes, flowed from the same principle: their abhorrence of
every enjoyment which might gratify the sensual, and degrade the
spiritual nature of man. It was their favorite opinion, that if Adam had
preserved his obedience to the Creator, he would have lived forever in a
state of virgin purity, and that some harmless mode of vegetation might
have peopled Paradise with a race of innocent and immortal beings. The
use of marriage was permitted only to his fallen posterity, as a
necessary expedient to continue the human species, and as a restraint,
however imperfect, on the natural licentiousness of desire. The
hesitation of the orthodox casuists on this interesting subject betrays
the perplexity of men unwilling to approve an institution which they
were compelled to tolerate."
If it did not inspire sadness to discover that human minds, of
intelligence above the average, can be capable of such fatuity, it would
provoke one to laughter to read the Fathers as they gravely asseverate
that they do not consider marriage as being necessarily
sinful--providing that it were not committed more than once. Jerome, who
was the great advocate of monasticism in the early Church, says that
virginity is to marriage what the fruit is to the tree, or what the
grain is to the chaff. Seizing upon Christ's parable of the sower, he
asserts that the thirty-fold increase refers to marriage; the sixty-fold
applies to widows, for the greater the difficulty in resisting the
allurements of pleasure once enjoyed the greater the reward; but by the
hundred-fold the crown of virginity is expressed. Was there no one to
suggest to him that in the natural expectation of increase his order is
reversed? As a sample of the turgid rodomontade with which those Fathers
of the Church induced the women of their time to sacrifice, for the
glory of God, the duties of wifehood and motherhood which the Creator
ordained that they should perform, we will quote from Cyprian at length:
"We come now to contemplate the lily blossom; and see, O thou, the
virgin of Christ! see how much fairer is this thy flower, than any
other! look at the special grace which, beyond any other flower of the
earth, it hath obtained! Nay, listen to the commendation bestowed upon
it by the Spouse himself, when he saith--Consider the lilies of the
field (the virgins) how they grow, and yet I say unto you that Solomon
in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these! Read therefore, O
virgin, and read again, and often read again, this word of thy Spouse,
and understand how, in the commendation of this flower, he commends thy
glory. In the glory of Solomon you are to understand that, whatever is
rich and great on earth, and the choicest of all, is prefigured; and in
the bloom of thy lily, which is thy likeness, and that of all the
virgins of Christ, the glory of virginity is intended.... Virginity hath
indeed a twofold prerogative, a virtue which, in others, is single only;
for while all the Church is virgin in soul, having neither spot, nor
wrinkle; being incorrupt in faith, hope, and charity, on which account
it is called a virgin, and merits the praise of the Spouse, what praise,
think you, are our lilies worthy of, who possess this purity in body, as
well as in soul, which the Church at large has in soul only! In truth,
the virgins of Christ are, as we may say, the fat and marrow of the
Church, and by right of an excellence altogether peculiar to themselves,
they enjoy His most familiar embraces."
The effect of this senseless exaltation of virginity, and of persuading
great numbers of maidens to forswear the pleasures and the duties of
matrimony, in the conviction that they thereby rendered themselves far
more pleasing to God than were their mothers and married sisters, was
unquestionably injurious to the morals of the time. The result was as
bad for the "lilies" themselves as it was for the women who elected to
abide on the natural, but despised, plane for which the Almighty
intended them. Too many of the former gave scandalous proof that their
ambition for virginal sanctity was unequalled by their steadfastness in
the contest. Nature has a way, when insulted, of making reprisals. The
writings of the Fathers are full of lamentations and exhortations which
indicate that the youthful female saints of their time found it one
thing to aspire to the glory of virginity and quite another to live
consistently with its character. All were not satisfied with the
indemnification provided by the joys of conscious holiness for the loss
of those pleasures which they denied themselves by their vows. Very
early there sprang up among the celibates of the Church a fashion of
choosing spiritual companions, the choice usually being made from among
the opposite sex. The canons of many of the first councils dealt with
the _agapetæ_ who professed to be the spiritual sisters of the unmarried
clergy. Even in the days of persecution this had become prevalent;
Cyprian wrote severe strictures on the custom, but did not succeed in
bringing about its abolishment. Jerome speaks of it in unrestrained
terms: "How comes this plague of the _agapetæ_ to be in the Church?
Whence come these unwedded wives, these novel concubines, these
prostitutes, so I will call them, though they cling to a single partner?
One house holds them, and one chamber. They often occupy the same couch,
and yet they call us suspicious if we fancy anything amiss. A brother
leaves his virgin sister; a virgin, slighting her unmarried brother,
seeks a brother in a stranger. Both alike profess to have but one
object, to find spiritual consolation from those not their kin.... It is
on such that Solomon in the Book of Proverbs heaps his scorn. 'Can a man
take fire in his bosom,'" he says, '"and his clothes not be burned?'"
These insurrections of nature continued until Church celibacy became a
fully organized system and the women devoted to perpetual virginity were
shut away in convents; even then, if all reports be true, the enemy,
though cast down, was not effectually destroyed.
The effect of this laudation of virginity upon the women who chose to
remain in the world was equally detrimental to good morals. The natural
result of the system might have been easily imagined, if the good sense
of the teachers of that age had not been dulled by the conception of the
human body as being hopelessly evil. Out of a large family of girls,
one, "Priscilla," or "Agnes," has been induced, by the fervid
representations of some apostle of celibacy as to the glorious sanctity
of virginity, to devote herself to this "higher life." What will be the
effect upon the "Marthas" and the "Elizabeths" who decide to remain in
the world? Believing, as they also do, in the greater sanctity of
virginity, they will necessarily consider themselves less pure and
chaste than they would if such a comparison with their seraphic sister
had not been thrust upon them. A line of demarcation is drawn between
the once united band. On the one side stand chastity and angelic purity
personified in the professed virgin; on the other side is marriage, not
forbidden, but merely tolerated; a little lower down, according to the
Nicene scale, is concubinage, and lower still, but on the same side, is
prostitution. The "Marthas" and the "Elizabeths" were given the
alternative of either following the example of "Agnes"--- against which
their good sense rebelled--or of considering themselves only at the top
of a class at the bottom of which were the notoriously impure. No
greater injustice than this was ever done to womanhood.
In a society where the chaste love of a wife for her husband and the
privileges and duties of a mother were regarded as placing a woman upon
an inferior moral grade, it is not surprising to find that a large
proportion accepted the rating of their time and lived down to it.
Largely in consequence, then, of the substitution of a fantastic
holiness for unromantic goodness, though the Church grew strong in the
world, morals remained much what they had been under paganism. True,
there were many of those professed virgins whose names are recorded in
history, and who, as the result of what seems to have been a prodigious
contest, maintained their character and withal achieved a noble and
deserved reputation; but it is at least open to question whether or not
the influence of these shining marks of sanctity was not offset by the
otherwise pernicious effect of the system.
Before we proceed to the individual mention of some of these early
saints, we will glance at the secular women who were their
contemporaries.
Constantine had thoroughly orientalized the imperial court, and all the
officials and aristocracy of the empire followed the fashion according
to the degree of their ability. Gorgeous apparel, trains of eunuchs,
barbaric splendor, and ostentatious titles replaced the white toga and
the stately, though severe, grandeur of the Roman citizen of former
times. The Roman spirit was dying out in sloth and effeminacy; it was
fitting that a new capital of the Empire should be erected in the East,
for the new times were strange and unrelated to the manes of the Roman
ancestors. Nobility of thought had likewise perished, at least from the
secular life of the Empire. As Duruy says: "Courts have sometimes been
schools of elegance in manners, refinement in mind, and politeness in
speech. Literature and art have received from them valuable
encouragement. But at the epoch of which we are writing, poetry and
art--those social forces by which the soul is elevated--no longer exist.
With an Asiatic government and a religion soon to become intolerant,
great subjects of thought are prohibited. There is no discussion of
political affairs, for the emperor gives absolute commands; no history,
for the truth is concealed or condemned to a complaisance which is
odious to honest men; no eloquence, for nowhere can it be employed
except in disgraceful adulation of the sovereign.... Only the Church is
to have mighty orators,--but in the interests of heaven, not earth; and
so, in this empire now exposed to countless perils, the little mental
activity now existing in civil society will occupy itself only with
court intrigues, the subtleties of philosophers aspiring to be
theologians, or the petty literature of some belated and feeble admirers
of the early Muses."
The three sons of Constantine, among whom, by will, he divided the
Empire, were adherents of the Christian religion; but Constantius, who
soon became the sole ruler, though a weighty factor in the evolution of
the Church's doctrine, was no very edifying example of the moral effect
of her teaching. His jealousy and implacability almost exterminated the
race of Constantine, numerously represented as that sturdy emperor had
left himself. The closest ties of relationship did not avail to save the
lives of those who might stand in the way of the new ruler's ambitions.
Constantina, the sister of Constantius, had been married to
Hannibalianus, his cousin, but in spite of this double relationship the
latter cruelly perished.
Constantina was a woman of whom it would be interesting to know more
than the few references which history affords. She must have been a
person of able as well as ambitious character, for her father had
invested her with the title of Augusta. After his death, she deemed that
the purple ought not to clothe a woman with mere powerless dignity, but
that the right was hers to take a hand in the affairs of the Empire. In
this view of her privileges she lacked the support of her three
brothers: the situation was sufficiently disturbed by their own
inharmonious claims. But after the death of Constans and Constantine,
the way was cleared for Constantina to push her own interests. This she
did by creating a puppet emperor out of Vetranio, a good-natured and
obliging old general who was commanding in Illyricum. Constantina
herself bound the diadem upon his brow; but during an interview with
Constantius, a menacing shout of the soldiers induced Vetranio hastily
to divest himself of the purple and thankfully accept his life with an
honorable exile. Constantina had the diplomacy to make her peace with
her brother as soon as she saw the fruitlessness of this scheme. She
probably had deserted Vetranio before he had ceased trying to reign for
her. Later on, she was married to Gallus, who, with his brother Julian,
alone of the princes of the house of Constantine had survived the
suspicion and the cruelty of Constantius. Gallus was appointed Cæsar of
the Eastern provinces, and thus Constantina's ambitions were appeased.
But as is frequently the case with those who are ambitious of political
power, though intensely eager for the purple, she was entirely unworthy
of the position. The historians of the time give this woman an
exceedingly bad name, and doubtless the people of Antioch, where she and
her husband established their court, agreed that it was abundantly
deserved. She is described, not as a woman, but as one of the infernal
furies, tormented with an insatiate thirst for human blood. That, of
course, we may consider an extravagance of rhetoric on the part of
Ammianus; but there is an ugly story of a pearl necklace which
Constantina received from the mother-in-law of one Clematius of
Alexandria. The ornament procured the death of Clematius, who had
incurred the malice of his relative by disappointing her of his love.
The rapacity and cruelty of Constantina, joined with the mad profligacy
of her husband, ended by ruining them both. The displeasure of
Constantius was aroused, and that was usually only appeased by the death
of its object. He sent urgent messages inviting Gallus to visit him in
the West, for the purpose of consulting on the affairs of the Empire;
and it was especially urged that the Cæsar should bring his wife, "that
beloved sister whom the emperor ardently desired to see." Constantina
"knew perfectly of what her brother was capable"; she was not deceived
by his protestations of affection for herself. But while she might be
able to pacify him on the ground of her sex and their relationship, it
was certain death for Gallus to put himself in the power of the tyrant
of the East. Constantina set out alone to make her plea to her brother,
but died on the way. There was nothing that her husband could do but
obey the "invitation" of the emperor; but he was not allowed to see the
face of Constantius. On the road, he was seized, and, after a mock
trial, in which no sort of defence could have saved him, was beheaded.
Julian, the brother of Gallus, alone of the progeny of Constantine
remained. His life was constantly in danger from the suspicions of
Constantius; but it was preserved, and thereby paganism was destined to
have one more trial, or rather one more dying struggle. That Julian
escaped the dangers to which he was exposed was probably owing in a
large measure to the friendship of Eusebia, the wife of the emperor. He
afterward repaid this kindness by an eloquent, and we may be assured
sincere, eulogium upon her character.
Eusebia was a native of Thessalonica, in Macedonia. Her family was of
consular rank. She became the second wife of Constantius in the year
352, and seems to have enjoyed in matters political a considerable
influence with her husband, which she always employed meritoriously. Her
beauty is frequently spoken of by the ancient authors as being
remarkable; but what is still more worthy of notice is the fact that, in
an age when there were so many divided interests, the historians of all
parties agree in the praise of her moral character. True, there is a
hint somewhere that her kindness to Julian sprung from a tenderer motive
than friendship; but all else that is known of her, as well as the
frozen nature of Julian himself, sufficiently refutes such a suggestion.
In the time of Eusebia the Church was torn by the contentions between
the orthodox and the followers of Arius. Constantius, as the imperial
arbiter of eternal truth as well as of the temporal destinies of his
subjects, sought to obtain peace by banishing the principal disputants,
as he did Athanasius and Liberius of Rome. Eusebia's chief connection
with these events, though herself an Arian, seems to have been
influenced by her charitable inclination. When Liberius was going away
into exile she sent him five hundred pieces of gold with which to defray
his expenses. This however, rather churlishly as it would seem, he sent
back with the message that she "take it to the emperor, for he may want
it to pay his troops."
In this connection there is an incident recorded by Theodoret which
indicates that the clergy, especially the bishops, of those times found
resolute champions among the ladies, as they have in all ages. Two years
after the exile of Liberius, Constantius went to Rome. "The ladies of
rank urged their husbands to petition the emperor for the restoration of
the shepherd to his flock: they added, that if this were not granted,
they would desert them, and go themselves after their great pastor.
Their husbands replied, that they were afraid of incurring the
resentment of the emperor. 'If we were to ask him,' they continued,
'being men, he would deem it an unpardonable offence; but if you were
yourselves to present the petition, he would at any rate spare you, and
would either accede to your request, or else dismiss you without
injury.' These noble ladies adopted this suggestion, and presented
themselves before the emperor in all their customary splendor of array,
that so the sovereign, judging their rank from their dress, might count
them worthy of being treated with courtesy and kindness. Thus entering
the presence, they besought him to take pity on the condition of so
large a city, deprived of its shepherd, and made an easy prey to the
attacks of wolves. The emperor replied, that the flock possessed a
shepherd capable of tending it, and that no other was needed in the
city. For after the banishment of the great Liberius, one of his
deacons, named Felix, had been appointed bishop. He preserved inviolate
the doctrines set forth in the Nicene confession of faith, yet he held
communion with those who had corrupted that faith. For this reason none
of the citizens of Rome would enter the house of prayer while he was in
it. The ladies mentioned these facts to the emperor. Their persuasions
were successful; and he commanded that the great Liberius should be
recalled from exile, and that the two bishops should conjointly rule the
Church. This latter arrangement did not suit the people, so Felix
retired to another city."
Liberius generally refused to acknowledge Arians as Christians; whether
or not he had the boldness to refuse that name to the empress is not
told us. It is certain that Eusebia's kindness to Julian was worthy of a
Christian, even though it succored one who was to be the arch-enemy of
the faith. She befriended and protected him when he was summoned to a
court where it was to the interest of every courtier to report every
action and every chance word to Constantius. She may have been desirous
of making a friend of the heir-apparent, being herself childless; but it
is easy to believe that "the good and beautiful Eusebia," as Julian
calls her, was both sincere and disinterested in her kindness. She
brought it about that the emperor gave his permission to the young man,
who had hitherto been a prisoner, to retire to a beautiful estate which
he had inherited from his mother.
The fortunes of Julian were in good hands at the court. Constantius was
greatly influenced by the eunuchs who surrounded him, and who were the
bureaucratic officers of those times; but Eusebia was stronger than all
others combined. When the emperor complained that the unaided rule was
too much for him, she suggested that he raise his young kinsman to the
Cæsarian dignity. Her advice was followed; and the imperial purple, and
with it the hand of Helena, the sister of Constantius, were conferred
upon Julian. As a wedding gift, Eusebia, with the most refined
consideration possible, presented him with a valuable collection of the
best Greek authors. It is likely that he felt more appreciative
gratitude for the books than he did either for the official dignity or
the highborn bride. As Cæsar, it was intended by Constantius that he
should be no more than a figure; and for his wife it is doubtful if he
ever felt any real affection. As historians have remarked, in his
numerous writings Julian sometimes mentions the Helen of Homer, but
never once his own Helen. She must have been considerably older than her
husband, and was probably a Christian, as were her brothers. That there
was no offspring of this marriage was imputed to the arts of Eusebia,
who, according to Ammianus Marcellinus, exercised a close and unnatural
supervision over the household of her protégé. Inasmuch as there appears
no motive for a wish on the part of the empress that Helena should be
childless, we are inclined, as Gibbon says, "to hope that the public
malignity imputed the effects of accident as the guilt of Eusebia." The
empress died in the year 360, immediately before Julian broke with
Constantius and began to rule on his own authority.
Julian led a forlorn hope in the cause of the old gods. This at least
may be said for him: there was nothing in the treatment which he
received from those who professed to be Christians to hold his faith to
their religion. One only had befriended him, and she was regarded as a
heretic. The historians of the time endeavor to picture Julian as
leading a crusade of persecution against Christianity. Theodoret speaks
of his "mad fury"; but inasmuch as he is constrained to recount stories
which rather illustrate the triviality of the mind of the historian than
the cruelty of the persecutor, it is evident that the glory of martyrdom
was not won to any considerable extent under Julian. We are inclined to
think that one of these narratives exemplifies the latter's patience
more than any other of his characteristics. There was a woman named
Publia, who had become the prioress of a company of virgins. One day
these women, seeing the emperor coming, struck up the psalm which
recites how "the idols of the nations are of silver and gold," and,
after describing their insensibility, adds "like them be they that make
them and all those that put their trust in them." Julian required them
at least to hold their peace while he was passing by. Publia did not,
however, pay the least attention to his orders, except to urge her choir
to put still greater energy into their chaunt; and when again the
emperor passed by she told them to strike up: "Let God arise and let his
enemies be scattered." At last Julian commanded one of his escort to box
her ears. "She however took outrage for honor, and kept up her attack
upon him with her spiritual songs, just as the composer and teacher of
the song laid the wicked spirit that vexed Saul."