may use the language of historians,--and it was against these that
Ambrose chiefly contended. The great battle against them had been fought
by Athanasius two generations before; but they had not been put down.
Their doctrines extensively prevailed among many of the barbaric
chieftains, and the empress herself was an Arian, as well as many
distinguished bishops. Ambrose did not deny the great intellectual
ability of Arius, nor the purity of his morals; but he saw in his
doctrines the virtual denial of Christ's divinity and atonement, and a
glorification of the reason, and an exaltation of the will, which
rendered special divine grace unnecessary. The Arian controversy, which
lasted one hundred years, and has been repeatedly revived, was not a
mere dialectical display, not a war of words, but the most important
controversy in which theologians ever enlisted, and the most vital in
its logical deductions. Macaulay sneers at the _homoousian_ and the
_homoiousian_; and when viewed in a technical point of view, it may seem
to many frivolous and vain. But the distinctions of the Trinity, which
Arius sought to sweep away, are essential to the unity and completeness
of the whole scheme of salvation, as held by the Church to have been
revealed in the Scriptures; for if Christ is a mere creature of God,--a
creation, and not one with Him in essence,--then his death would avail
nothing for the efficacy of salvation; or,--to use the language of
theologians, who have ever unfortunately blended the declarations and
facts of Scripture with dialectical formularies, which are deductions
made by reason and logic from accepted truths, yet not so binding as the
plain truths themselves,--Christ's death would be insufficient for an
infinite redemption. No propitiation of a created being could atone for
the sins of all other creatures. Thus by the Arian theory the Christ of
the orthodox church was blotted out, and a man was substituted, who was
divine only in the matchless purity of his life and the transcendent
wisdom of his utterances; so that Christ, logically, was a pattern and
teacher, and not a redeemer. Now, historically, everybody knows that for
three hundred years Christ was viewed and worshipped as the Son of
God,--a divine, uncreated being, who assumed a mortal form to make an
atonement or propitiation for the sins of the world. Hence the doctrines
of Arius undermined, so far as they were received, the whole theology of
the early Church, and obscured the light of faith itself. I am compelled
to say this, if I speak at all of the Arians, which I do historically
rather than controversially. If I eliminated theology and political
theories and changes from my Lectures altogether, there would be nothing
left but commonplace matter.
But Ambrose had powerful enemies to contend with in his defence of the
received doctrines of the Church. The Empress Faustina was herself an
Arian, and the patroness of the sect. Milan was filled with its
defenders, turbulent and insolent under the shield of the court. It was
the headquarters of the sect at that time. Arianism was fashionable; and
the empress had caused an edict to be passed, in the name of her son
Valentinian, by which liberty of conscience and worship was granted to
the Arians. She also caused a bishop of her nomination and creed to
challenge Ambrose to a public disputation in her palace on the points in
question. Now what course did Ambrose pursue? Nothing could be fairer,
apparently, than the proposal of the empress,--nothing more just than
her demands. We should say that she had enlightened reason on her side,
for heresy can never be exterminated by force, unless the force is
overwhelming,--as in the persecution of the Huguenots by Louis XIV.,
or the slaughter of the Albigenses by Innocent III. or the princes
he incited to that cruel act. Ambrose, however, did not regard
the edict as suggested by the love of toleration, but as the
desire for ascendency,--as an advanced post to be taken in the
conflict,--introductory to the triumph of the Arian doctrines in the
West, and which the Arian emperor and his bishops intended should
ultimately be the established religion of the Western nations. It was
not a fight for toleration, but for ascendency. Moreover Ambrose saw in
Arianism a hostile creed,--a dangerous error, subversive of what is most
vital in Christianity. So he determined to make no concessions at all,
to give no foothold to the enemy in a desperate fight. The least
concession, he thought, would be followed by the demand for new
concessions, and would be a cause of rejoicing to his enemies and of
humiliation to his friends; and in accordance with the everlasting
principles of all successful warfare he resolved to yield not one jot or
tittle. The slightest concession was a compromise, and a compromise
might lead to defeat. There could be no compromise on such a vital
question as the divinity of our Lord. He might have conceded the wisdom
of compromise in some quarrel about temporal matters. Had he, as
governor of a province, been required to make some concession to
conquering barbarians,--had he been a modern statesman devising a
constitution, a matter of government,--he might have acted differently.
A policy about tariffs and revenues, all resting on unsettled principles
of political economy, may have been a matter of compromise,--not the
fundamental principles of the Christian religion, as declared by
inspiration, and which he was bound to accept as they were revealed and
declared, whether they could be reconciled with his reason or not. There
is great moral grandeur in the conflict of fundamental principles of
religion; and there is equal grandeur in the conflict between principles
and principalities, between combatants armed with spiritual weapons and
combatants armed with the temporal sword, between defenceless priests
and powerful emperors, between subjects and the powers that be, between
men speaking in the name of God Almighty and men at the head of
armies,--the former strong in the invisible power of truth; the latter
resplendent with material forces.
Ambrose did not shun the conflict and the danger. Never before had a
priest dared to confront an emperor, except to offer up his life as a
martyr. Who could resist Caesar on his own ground? In the approaching
conflict we see the precursor of the Hildebrands and the Beckets. One of
the claims of Luther as a hero was his open defiance of the Pope, when
no person in his condition had ever before ventured on such a step. But
a Roman emperor, in his own capital, was greater than a distant Pope,
especially when the defiant monk was protected by a powerful prince.
Ambrose had the exalted merit of being the first to resist his emperor,
not as a martyr willing to die for his cause, but as a prelate in a
desperate and open fight,--as a prelate seeking to conquer. He was the
first notable man to raise the standard of independent spiritual
authority. Consider, for a moment, what a tremendous step that was,--how
pregnant with future consequences. He was the first of all the heroes of
the Church who dared to contend with the temporal powers, not as a man
uttering a protest, but as an equal adversary,--as a warrior bent on
victory. Therefore has his name great historical importance. I know of
no man who equalled him in intrepidity, and in a far-reaching policy. I
fancy him looking down the vista of the ages, and deliberately laying
the foundation of an arrogant spiritual power. What an example did he
set for the popes and bishops of the Middle Ages! Here was a just and
equal law, as we should say,--a beneficent law of religious toleration,
as it would outwardly appear,--which Ambrose, as a subject of the
emperor, was required to obey. True, it was in reference to a spiritual
matter, but emperors, from Caesar downwards, as Pontifex Maximus, had
believed it their right and province to meddle in such matters. See what
a hand Constantine had in the organization of the Church, even in the
discussion of religious doctrines. He presided at the Council of Nice,
where the great subject of discussion was the Trinity. But the
Archbishop of Milan dares to say, virtually, to the emperor, "This
law-making about our church matters is none of your concern.
Christianity has abrogated your power as High Priest. In spiritual
things we will not obey you. Your enactments conflict with the divine
laws,--higher than yours; and we, in this matter of conscience, defy
your authority. We will obey God rather than you." See in this defiance
the rise of a new power,--the power of the Middle Ages,--the reign of
the clergy.
In the first place, Ambrose refused to take part in a religious
disputation held in the palace of his enemy,--in any palace where a
monarch sat as umpire. The Church was the true place for a religious
controversy, and the umpire, if such were needed, should be a priest and
not a layman. The idea of temporal lords settling a disputed point of
theology seemed to him preposterous. So, with blended indignation and
haughtiness, he declared it was against the usages of the Church for the
laity to sit as judges in theological discussions; that in all spiritual
matters emperors were subordinate to bishops, not bishops to emperors.
Oh, how great is the posthumous influence of original heroes!
Contemplate those fiery remonstrances of Ambrose,--the first on
record,--when prelates and emperors contended for the mastery, and you
will see why the Archbishop of Milan is so great a favorite of the
Catholic Church.
And what was the response of the empress, who ruled in the name of her
son, in view of this disobedience and defiance? Chrysostom dared to
reprove female vices; he did not rebel against imperial power. But
Ambrose raised an issue with his sovereign. And this angry sovereign
sent forth her soldiers to eject Ambrose from the city. The haughty and
insolent priest should be exiled, should be imprisoned, should die.
Shall he be permitted to disobey an imperial command? Where would then
be the imperial authority?--a mere shadow in an age of anarchy.
Ambrose did not oppose force by force. His warfare was not carnal, but
spiritual. He would not, if he could, have braved the soldiers of the
Government by rallying his adherents in the streets. That would have
been a mob, a sedition, a rebellion.
But he seeks the shelter of his church, and prays to Almighty God. And
his friends and admirers--the people to whom he preached, to whom he is
an oracle--also follow him to his sanctuary. The church is crowded with
his adherents, but they are unarmed. Their trust is not in the armor of
Goliath, nor even in the sling of David, but in that power which
protected Daniel in the lions' den. The soldiers are armed, and they
surround the spacious basilica, the form which the church then assumed.
And yet though they surround the church in battle array, they dare not
force the doors,--they dare not enter. Why? Because the church had
become a sacred place. It was consecrated to the worship of Jehovah. The
soldiers were afraid of the wrath of God more than of the wrath of
Faustina or Valentinian. What do you see in this fact? You see how
religious ideas had permeated the minds even of soldiers. They were not
strong enough or brave enough to fight the ideas of their age. Why did
not the troops of Louis XVI. defend the Bastille? They were strong
enough; its cannon could have demolished the whole Faubourg St. Antoine.
Alas! the soldiers who defended that fortress had caught the ideas of
the people. They fraternized with them, rather than with the Government;
they were afraid of opposing the ideas which shook France to its centre.
So the soldiers of the imperial government at Milan, converted to the
ideas of Christianity, or sympathizing with them, or afraid of them,
dared not assail the church to which Ambrose fled for refuge. Behold in
this fact the majestic power of ideas when they reach the people.
But if the soldiers dared not attack Ambrose and his followers in a
consecrated place, they might starve him out, or frighten him into a
surrender. At this point appears the intrepidity of the Christian hero.
Day after day, and night after night, the bishop maintained his post.
The time was spent in religious exercises. The people listened to
exhortation; they prayed; they sang psalms. Then was instituted, amid
that long-protracted religious meeting that beautiful antiphonal chant
of Ambrose, which afterwards, modified and simplified by Pope Gregory,
became the great attraction of religious worship in all the cathedrals
and abbeys and churches of Europe for more than one thousand years. It
was true congregational singing, in which all took part; simple and
religious as the songs of Methodists, both to drive away fear and ennui,
and fortify the soul by inspiring melodies,--not artistic music borrowed
from the opera and oratorio, and sung by four people, in a distant loft,
for the amusement of the rich pew-holders of a fashionable congregation,
and calculated to make it forget the truths which the preacher has
declared; but more like the hymns and anthems of the son of Jesse, when
sung by the whole synagogue, making the vaulted roof and lofty pillars
of the Medieval church re-echo the paeans of the transported
worshippers.
At last there were signs of rebellion among the soldiers. The new
spiritual power was felt, even among them. They were tired of their
work; they hated it, since Ambrose was the representative of ideas that
claimed obedience no less than the temporal powers. The spiritual and
temporal powers were, in fact, arrayed against each other,--an unarmed
clergy, declaring principles, against an armed soldiery with swords and
lances. What an unequal fight! Why, the very weapons of the soldier are
in defence of ideas! The soldier himself is very strong in defence of
universally recognized principles, like law and government, whose
servant he is. In the case of Ambrose, it was the supposed law of God
against the laws of man. What soldier dares to fight against
Omnipotence, if he believes at all in the God to whom he is as
personally responsible as he is to a ruler?
Ambrose thus remained the victor. The empress was defeated. But she was
a woman, and had persistency; she had no intention of succumbing to a
priest, and that priest her subject. With subtle dexterity she would
change the mode of attack, not relinquish the fight. She sought to
compromise. She promised to molest Ambrose no more if he would allow
_one_ church for the Arians. If the powerful metropolitan would concede
that, he might return to his palace in safety; she would withdraw the
soldiers. But this he refused. Not one church, declared he, should the
detractors of our Lord possess in the city over which he presided as
bishop. The Government might take his revenues, might take his life; but
he would be true to his cause. With his last breath he would defend the
Church, and the doctrines on which it rested.
The angry empress then renewed her attack more fiercely. She commanded
the troops to seize by force one of the churches of the city for the use
of the Arians; and the bishop was celebrating the sacred mysteries on
Palm Sunday when news was brought to him of this outrage,--of this
encroachment on the episcopal authority. The whole city was thrown into
confusion. Every man armed himself; some siding with the empress, and
others with the bishop. The magistrates were in despair, since they
could not maintain law and order. They appealed to Ambrose to yield for
the sake of peace and public order. To whom he replied, in substance,
"What is that to me? My kingdom is not of this world. I will not
interfere in civil matters. The responsibility of maintaining order in
the streets does not rest on me, but on you. See you to that. It is only
by prayer that I am strong."
Again the furious empress--baffled, not conquered--ordered the soldiers
to seize the person of Ambrose in his church. But they were
terror-stricken. Seize the minister at the altar of Omnipotence! It was
not to be thought of. They refused to obey. They sent word to the
imperial palace that they would only take possession of the church on
the sole condition that the emperor (who was controlled by his mother)
should abandon Arianism. How angry must have been the Court! Soldiers
not only disobedient, but audaciously dictating in matters of religion!
But this treason on the part of the defenders of the throne was a very
serious matter. The Court now became alarmed in its turn. And this alarm
was increased when the officers of the palace sided with the bishop. "I
perceive," said the crestfallen and defeated monarch, and in words of
bitterness, "that I am only the shadow of an emperor, to whom you dare
dictate my religious belief."
Valentinian was at last aroused to a sense of his danger. He might be
dragged from his throne and assassinated. He saw that his throne was
undermined by a priest, who used only these simple words, "It is my duty
to obey God rather than man." A rebellious mob, an indignant court, a
superstitious soldiery, and angry factions compelled him to recall his
guards. It was a great triumph for the archbishop. Face to face he had
defeated the emperor. The temporal power had yielded to the spiritual.
Six hundred years before Henry IV. stooped to beg the favor and
forgiveness of Hildebrand, at the fortress of Canossa, the State had
conceded the supremacy of the Church in the person of the
fearless Ambrose.
Not only was Ambrose an intrepid champion of the Church and the orthodox
faith, but he was often sent, in critical crises, as an ambassador to
the barbaric courts. Such was the force and dignity of his personal
character. This is one of the first examples on record of a priest
being employed by kings in the difficult art of negotiation in State
matters; but it became very common in the Middle Ages for prelates and
abbots to be ambassadors of princes, since they were not only the most
powerful but most intelligent and learned personages of their times.
They had, moreover, the most tact and the most agreeable manners.
When Maximus revolted against the feeble Gratian (emperor of the West),
subdued his forces, took his life, and established himself in Gaul,
Spain, and Britain, the Emperor Valentinian sent Ambrose to the
barbarian's court to demand the body of his murdered brother. Arriving
at Treves, the seat of the prefecture, where his father had been
governor, he repaired at once to the palace of the usurper, and demanded
an interview with Maximus. The lord chamberlain informed him he could
only be heard before council. Led to the council chamber, the usurper
arose to give him the accustomed kiss of salutation among the Teutonic
kings. But Ambrose refused it, and upbraided the potentate for
compelling him to appear in the council chamber. "But," replied Maximus,
"on a former mission you came to this chamber." "True," replied the
prelate, "but then I came to sue for peace, as a suppliant; now I come
to demand, as an equal, the body of Gratian." "An equal, are you?"
replied the usurper; "from whom have you received this rank?" "From God
Almighty," replied the prelate, "who preserves to Valentinian the empire
he has given him." On this, the angry Maximus threatened the life of the
ambassador, who, rising in wrath, in his turn thus addressed him, before
all his councillors: "Since you have robbed an anointed prince of his
throne, at least restore his ashes to his kindred. Do _you_ fear a
tumult when the soldiers shall see the dead body of their murdered
emperor? What have you to fear from a corpse whose death you ordered? Do
you say you only destroyed your enemy? Alas! he was not _your_ enemy,
but you were _his_. If some one had possessed himself of your provinces,
as you seized those of Gratian, would not he--instead of you--be the
enemy? Can you call him an enemy who only sought to preserve what was
his own? Who is the lawful sovereign,--he who seeks to keep together his
legitimate provinces, or he who has succeeded in wresting them away? Oh,
thou successful usurper! God himself shall smite thee. Thou shalt be
delivered into the hands of Theodosius. Thou shalt lose thy kingdom and
thy life." How the prelate reminds us of a Jewish prophet giving to
kings unwelcome messages,--of Daniel pointing out to Belshazzar the
handwriting on the wall! He was not a Priam begging the dead body of his
son, or hurling impotent weapons amid the crackling ruins of Troy, but
an Elijah at the court of Ahab. But this fearlessness was surpassed by
the boldness of rebuke which later he dared to give to Theodosius, when
this great general had defeated the Goths, and postponed for a time the
ruin of the Empire, of which he became the supreme and only emperor.
Theodosius was in fact one of the greatest of the emperors, and the last
great man who swayed the sceptre of Trajan, his ancestor. On him the
vulgar and the high-born equally gazed with admiration,--and yet he was
not great enough to be free from vices, patron as he was of the Church
and her institutions.
It seems that this illustrious emperor, in a fit of passion, ordered the
slaughter of the people of Thessalonica, because they had arisen and
killed some half-a-dozen of the officers of the government, in a
sedition, on account of the imprisonment of a favorite circus-rider. The
wrath of Theodosius knew no bounds. He had once before forgiven the
people of Antioch for a more outrageous insult to imperial authority;
but he would not pardon the people of Thessalonica, and caused some
seven thousand of them to be executed,--an outrageous vengeance, a crime
against humanity. The severity of this punishment filled the whole
Empire with consternation. Ambrose himself was so overwhelmed with grief
and indignation that he retired into the country in order to avoid all
intercourse with his sovereign. And there he remained, until the emperor
came to himself and comprehended the enormity of his crime. But Ambrose
wrote a letter to the emperor, in which he insisted on his repentance
and expiation. The emperor was so touched by the fidelity and eloquence
of the prelate that he came to the cathedral to offer up his customary
oblations. But the bishop, in his episcopal robes, met him at the porch
and forbade his entrance. "Do not think, O Emperor, to atone for the
enormity of your offence by merely presenting yourself in the church.
Dream not of entering these sacred precincts with your hands stained
with blood. Receive with submission the sentence of the Church." Then
Theodosius attempted to justify himself by the example of David. "But,"
retorted the bishop, "if you imitate David in his crime, imitate David
in his repentance. Insult not the Church by a double crime." So the
emperor, in spite of his elevated rank and power, was obliged to return.
The festival of Christmas approached, the great holiday of the Church,
and then was seen one of the rarest spectacles which history records.
The great emperor, now with undivided authority, penetrated with grief
and shame and penitence, again approached the sacred edifice, and openly
made a full confession of his sins; and not till then was he received
into the communion of the Church.
I think this scene is grand; worthy of a great painter,--of a painter
who knows history as well as art, which so few painters do know; yet
ought to know if they would produce immortal pictures. Nor do I know
which to admire the more,--the penitent emperor offering public penance
for his abuse of imperial authority, or the brave and conscientious
prelate who dared to rebuke his sin. When has such a thing happened in
modern times? Bossuet had the courage to dictate, in the royal chapel,
the duties of a king, and Bourdaloue once ventured to reprove his royal
hearer for an outrageous scandal. These instances of priestly boldness
and fidelity are cited as remarkable. And they were remarkable, when we
consider what an egotistical, haughty, exacting, voluptuous monarch
Louis XIV. was,--a monarch who killed Racine by an angry glance. But
what bishop presumed to insist on public penance for the persecutions of
the Huguenots, or the lavish expenditures and imperious tyranny of the
court mistresses, who scandalized France? I read of no churchman who, in
more recent times, has dared to reprove and openly rebuke a sovereign,
in the style of Ambrose, except John Knox. Ambrose not merely reproved,
but he punished, and brought the greatest emperor, since Constantine, to
the stool of penitence.
It was by such acts, as prelate, that Ambrose won immortal fame, and set
an example to future ages. His whole career is full of such deeds of
intrepidity. Once he refused to offer the customary oblation of the
altar until Theodosius had consented to remit an unjust fine. He battled
all enemies alike,--infidels, emperors, and Pagans. It was his mission
to act, rather than to talk. His greatness was in his character, like
that of our Washington, who was not a man of words or genius. What a
failure is a man in an exalted post without character!
But he had also other qualities which did him honor,--for which we
reverence him. See his laborious life, his assiduity in the discharge of
every duty, his charity, his broad humanity, soaring beyond mere
conventional and technical and legal piety. See him breaking in pieces
the consecrated vessels of the cathedral, and turning them into money to
redeem Illyrian captives; and when reproached for this apparent
desecration replying thus: "Whether is it better to preserve our gold or
the souls of men? Has the Church no higher mission to fulfil than to
guard the ornaments made by men's hands, while the faithful are
suffering exile and bonds? Do the blessed sacraments need silver and
gold, to be efficacious? What greater service to the Church can we
render than charities to the unfortunate, in obedience to that eternal
test, 'I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat'"? See this venerated
prelate giving away his private fortune to the poor; see him refusing
even to handle money, knowing the temptation to avarice or greed. What
a low estimate he placed on what was so universally valued, measuring
money by the standard of eternal weights! See this good bishop, always
surrounded with the pious and the learned, attending to all their wants,
evincing with his charities the greatest capacity of friendship. His
affections went out to all the world, and his chamber was open to
everybody. The companion and Mentor of emperors, the prelate charged
with the most pressing duties finds time for all who seek his advice or
consolation.