Practices By The Iconoclast Emperors Of The East.
The worship of images, as well as other Pagan practices, introduced into
the church during the fourth and fifth centuries, were prevailing in the
east as much as in the west; and I have mentioned, p. 9, that the monks,
particularly those of Egypt, had greatly contributed to the introduction
of anthropomorphism into the Christian church. A great blow to
image-worship was given in the east by the rise and rapid progress of
Mahometanism, whose followers, considering it as idolatry, destroyed many
objects to which certain miraculous virtues had been ascribed, and they
constantly taunted the Christians with their belief in such superstitions.
The Jews addressed the same reproaches to the Christians; “yet,” as Gibbon
has justly observed, “their servitude might curb their zeal and depreciate
their authority; but the triumphant Mussulman, who reigned at Damascus,
and threatened Constantinople, cast into the scale of reproach the
accumulated weight of truth and victory.”(54) And, indeed, there could not
be a stronger argument against the efficacy of images than the rapid
conquest by the Mahometans of many Christian cities which relied upon a
miraculous defence by some images preserved in their churches. This
circumstance could not but produce, in the minds of many thinking
Christians, a conviction of the absurdity of image-worship, and the spread
of such opinions must have been promoted by congregations who had
preserved the purity of primitive worship, and of whom it appears that
there were several still extant in the eighth century, as well as by the
influence of Armenia, a country with which the eastern empire had frequent
intercourse of a political and commercial nature, and whose church
rejected at that time the worship of images. This party wanted only a
leader and favourable circumstances in order publicly to assert their
condemnation of the prevailing practice, which they considered as sinful
idolatry. The accession of Leo III., the Isaurian, in 717, who, from an
inferior condition, rose by his talents and military prowess to the
imperial throne, gave to that party what they required, for he shared
their opinions, and was a man of great energy and ability. The troubles of
the state, which the valour and political wisdom of Leo saved from
impending ruin, occupied too much the first years of that emperor’s reign
to allow him to undertake a reform of the church. But in 727 he assembled
a council of senators and bishops, and decided, with their consent, that
all the images should be removed in the churches from the sanctuary and
the altar, to a height where they might be seen, but not worshipped, by
the congregation.(55) It was, however, impossible to follow long this
middle course, as the adherents of the images contrived to worship them in
spite of their elevation, while their opponents taxed the emperor with
want of zeal, holding out to him the example of the Jewish monarch, who
had caused the brazen serpent to be broken. Leo therefore ordered all
kinds of images to be destroyed; and though his edict met with some
opposition,(56) it was put into execution throughout the whole empire,
with the exception of the Italian provinces, which, instigated by Pope
Gregory II., a zealous defender of images, revolted against the emperor,
and resisted all his efforts to regain his dominion over them. This
monarch died in 741, after a not inglorious reign of twenty-four years,
and was succeeded on the throne by his son Constantine VIII., surnamed
Copronymus. All the information which we possess about this monarch, as
well as the other iconoclast emperors, is derived from historians
violently opposed to their religious views. These writers represent
Constantine VIII. as one of the greatest monsters that ever disgraced
humanity, stained by every imaginable vice; and having exhausted all the
usual terms of opprobrium, they invent some such ridiculous expressions as
a “_leopard generated by a lion, an aspic born from the seeds of a
serpent, a flying dragon_,” &c.; but they do not adduce in confirmation of
these epithets any of those criminal acts which have disgraced the reigns
of many Byzantine emperors, whose piety is extolled by the same writers.
We know, moreover, by the evidence of those very historians who have
bespattered with all those opprobrious terms the memory of Constantine,
that he was a brave and skilful leader, who defeated the Arabs, the most
formidable enemies of the empire, and restored several of its lost
provinces, and that the country was prosperous under his reign of
thirty-four years—741 to 775.
The beginning of Constantine’s reign was disturbed by his own
brother-in-law, Artabasdes, who, supported by the adherents of the images,
competed for the imperial throne, but was defeated, and his party crushed.
Constantine, desiring to abolish the abuse, which he regarded as idolatry,
by a solemn decision of the church declared, in 753, his intention to
convoke for this object a general council; and in order that the question
at issue should be thoroughly sifted, he enjoined all the bishops of the
empire to assemble local synods, and to examine the subject, previously to
its being debated by the general council. This council, composed of three
hundred and thirty-eight bishops, met at Constantinople in 754, and, after
having deliberated for six months, decided that, _conformably to Holy Writ
and the testimony of the fathers, all images were to be removed from the
churches, and whoever would dare to make an image, in order to place it in
a church, to worship it, or to keep it concealed in his house, was, if a
clerk, to be deposed, if a layman, to be anathematised_. The council
added, that those who adhered to the images were to be punished by the
imperial authorities as _enemies of the doctrine of the fathers, and
breakers of the law of God_. This decision was pronounced by the assembled
bishops unanimously, and without a single dissentient voice, which had
never been the case before. This assembly took the title of the Seventh
Ecumenical Council, and the emperor ordered its decision to be put into
execution throughout all his dominions. The images were removed from the
churches, and those which were painted on the walls covered with
whitewash. The principal opposition to the imperial order was offered by
the monks, who were always the chief promoters of image-worship; and
Constantine is accused of having repressed this opposition with a violence
common to that barbarous age. He is said to have entertained the greatest
hatred against these monks, calling them idolaters, and their dresses the
_dress of darkness_—an opinion with which many persons will be found to
chime, I think, even in our own time. Constantine died in 775, and was
followed on the throne by his son, Leo IV., who inherited the religious
views of his father; whilst his wife, Irene, a beautiful and talented, but
ambitious and unprincipled woman, was a secret worshipper of images. Leo,
who was of a weak constitution, died after a reign of five years,
appointing Irene the guardian of his minor son Constantine, who was then
ten years old. Irene governed the empire with great ability, but was too
fond of power to surrender it to her son at his coming of age, and he
tried to obtain by force what was due to him by right. The party of Irene
proved, however, the stronger; and young Constantine was taken prisoner,
and his mother caused him to be deprived of sight. Irene’s orders were
executed in such an atrocious manner, that the unfortunate prince died in
consequence.(57) Irene governed the empire with great splendour, but her
first object was to restore the worship of images; and the machinations by
which she accomplished this object have been so well related by Gibbon,
that I cannot do better than copy his account of them:—
“Under the reign of Constantine VIII., the union of the civil and
ecclesiastical power had overthrown the tree, without extirpating the root
of superstition. The idols, for such they were now held, were secretly
cherished by the order and the sex most prone to devotion; and the fond
alliance of the monks and females obtained a final victory over the reason
and authority of man. Leo IV. maintained with less rigour the religion of
his father and grandfather, but his wife, the fair and ambitious Irene,
had imbibed the zeal of the Athenians,(58) the heirs of the idolatry
rather than philosophy of their ancestors. During the life of her husband,
these sentiments were inflamed by danger and dissimulation, and she could
only labour to protect and promote some favourite monks, whom she drew
from their caverns, and seated on the metropolitan thrones of the east.
But as soon as she reigned in her own name, and in that of her son, Irene
more seriously undertook the ruin of the iconoclasts, and the first step
of her future persecution was a general edict for liberty of conscience.
In the restoration of the monks, a thousand images were exposed to the
public veneration; a thousand legends were invented of their sufferings
and miracles. By the opportunities of death and removal, the episcopal
seats were judiciously filled; the most eager competitors for celestial or
earthly favour anticipated and flattered the judgment of their sovereign;
and the promotion of her secretary Tarasius gave Irene the patriarch of
Constantinople, and the command of the Oriental church. But the decrees of
a general council could only be repealed by a similar assembly; the
iconoclasts, whom she convened, were bold in possession, and averse to
debate; and the feeble voice of the bishops was re-echoed by the more
formidable clamour of the soldiers and the people of Constantinople. The
delay and intrigues of a year, the separation of the disaffected troops,
and the choice of Nice for a second orthodox synod, removed these
obstacles; and the episcopal conscience was again, after the Greek
fashion, in the hands of the prince.”—_Gibbon’s Roman Empire_, chap. xlix.
This council, held in 786, restored the worship of images by the unanimous
sentence of three hundred and fifty bishops. The acts of this synod have
been preserved, and they are stated by Gibbon to be “a curious monument of
superstition and ignorance, of falsehood and folly.” I am afraid that
there is but too much truth in this severe judgment of Gibbon; and the
following passage relating to the same council, which I have extracted,
not from Gibbon, or any writer of the school to which he belonged, but
from the celebrated Roman Catholic historian of the church, Abbé Fleury,
will enable the reader to form his own judgment on this subject.
After describing the confession of faith signed by that council, which
declared that the images of the saints are to be worshipped, because they
remind us of those whom they represent, and make us participators in their
merits, he says:—
“The last passages showed that God was making miracles by means of images;
and in order to confirm it, a discourse, ascribed to St Athanasius, was
read. It contained the account of a pretended miracle, which happened at
Beryt, with an image of Christ, which, having been pierced by the Jews,
emitted blood, which healed many sick persons. The fathers of the council
were so much moved by this account that they shed tears. It is, however,
certain, that this discourse is not by St Athanasius, and it is even very
doubtful whether the story which it contains is true. Thus it appears that
amongst all the bishops present at this council, there was not a single
one versed in the science of criticism, because many other false documents
were produced in that assembly. This proves nothing against the decision
of the council, because it is sufficiently supported by true documents. It
only proves the ignorance of the times, as well as the necessity of
knowing history, chronology, the difference of manners and styles, in
order to discern real documents from spurious ones.”(59)
Thus, according to the authority of one of the most eminent writers of the
Roman Catholic Church, the second Council of Nice, the first synod which
has given an explicit and solemn sanction to one of the most important
tenets of the Western and the Eastern churches, was composed of such
ignorant and silly prelates, that an absurd fable, contained in a forged
paper, could sway their minds and hearts in such a manner as to make them
shed tears of emotion, and that there was not a single individual amongst
these venerable fathers sufficiently informed to be able to discover a
fabrication so gross that it did not escape the attention of scholars who
lived many centuries afterwards.
Irene rigorously enforced the decrees of this council against the
opponents of images; and that woman, guilty of the death of her own son,
and suspected of that of her husband, is extolled by ecclesiastical
writers as a most pious princess. A contemporary Greek writer, and a
zealous defender of image-worship, the monk Theodore Studites, places her
above Moses, and says that “she had delivered the people from the Egyptian
bondage of impiety;” and the historian of the Roman Catholic Church,
Baronius, justifies her conduct by the following argument: that the hands
of the fathers were raised by a just command of God against their
children, who followed strange gods, and that Moses had ordered them to
consecrate themselves to the Lord, even every man upon his son, and upon
his brother, Exod. xxxii. 29, so that it was a high degree of piety to be
cruel to one’s own son; consequently Irene deserved on this account the
first crown of paradise; and that if she had committed the murder of her
son from motives of ambition, she would be worse than Agrippina, mother of
Nero; but if she did it through zeal for religion, as it appears by the
encomium which she had received from very holy men who lived at that time,
she deserves to be praised for her piety.
Irene’s piety, shown by the restoration of images, and the persecution of
their opponents, was indeed so much appreciated by the church, that she
received a place amongst the saints of the Greek calendar. She was,
however, less fortunate in her worldly affairs; because she was deposed in
802 by Nicephorus, who occupied the imperial throne, and exiled to Lesbos,
where she died in great poverty. He did not abolish the images, nor allow
the persecution of their opponents; and the ecclesiastical writers
represent him, on account of this liberal policy, as a perfect monster.
Nicephorus perished in a battle against the Bulgarians in 811, and his
successor Michael, who persecuted the iconoclasts, unable to maintain
himself on the throne, retired into a convent, after a reign of about two
years, and the imperial crown was assumed by Leo V., a native of Armenia,
and one of the most eminent leaders of the army, which elevated him to
this dignity.
Though all that we know about Leo V. is derived from authors zealously
opposed to his religious views, yet, notwithstanding all their _odium
theologicum_, they are obliged to admit that he was gallant in the field,
and just and careful in the administration of civil affairs. Being the
native of a country whose church still resisted the introduction of
images, he was naturally adverse to their worship, and the manner in which
he abolished it in his empire deserves a particular notice; because,
though related by his enemies, it proves that he was a sincere scriptural
Christian.
According to their relation, Leo believed that the victories obtained by
the barbarians, and other calamities to which the empire was exposed, were
a visitation of God in punishment of the worship of images; that he
demanded that a precept for adoring the images should be shown to him in
the gospels, and as the thing was impossible, he rejected them as idols
condemned by the Word of God. They also say, that the attention of Leo
being once drawn to this passage of the prophet Isaiah, “_To whom then
will you liken God? or what likeness will you compare unto him? The
workman melteth a graven image, and the goldsmith spreadeth it over with
gold and casteth silver chains_,” (xl. 18, 19,) this circumstance
irritated him more than any thing else against the images. He communicated
his sentiments to the patriarch, and requested him either to remove the
images, or to show a reason why they were worshipped, _since __ the
Scriptures did not order it_. The patriarch, who was an adherent of the
images, tried to elude this demand by various sophisms, which, not having
satisfied the emperor, he ordered divines of both parties to assemble in
his palace, and represented to them that Moses, who had received the law,
written with the hand of God, condemned, in the most explicit terms, those
who adored the works of men’s hands; that it was idolatry to worship them,
and great folly to attempt to confine the Infinite in a picture of the
size of an ell. It is said that the defenders of the images refused to
speak for the three following reasons:—1. That the canons prohibited to
doubt what had been determined by the second Council of Nice; 2. That the
clergy could not deliberate upon such matters in the imperial palace, but
in a church; and, 3. That the emperor was not a competent judge on this
occasion, because he was resolved to abolish the images. The emperor
deposed the patriarch, who defended the images, replacing him by another
who shared his own sentiments, and convened a council, which, with the
exception of a few of its members, decided for the abolition of the
images. The emperor ordered their removal, and sent several of their
defenders into exile; he soon, however, allowed them to return, and only
some few of the most zealous of them died in exile. The most celebrated of
these sufferers was Theodore Studites; and as he has obtained on this
account the honour of saintship, his opinions on the nature of images
deserve a particular notice. He maintained that as the shadow cannot be
separated from the body, as the rays of the sun are inseparable from that
planet, so the images are inseparable from the subjects which they
represent. He pretended that an image of Christ should be treated as if it
were Christ himself, saying, “_The image is nothing else than Christ
himself, except the difference of their essence; therefore, the worship of
the image is the worship of Jesus Christ_.” He considered those who were
removing images as “_destroyers of the incarnation of Christ, because he
does not exist if he cannot be painted_. We renounce Christ if we reject
his image; and refuse to worship him, if we refuse to adore his
image.”(60)
This defence of image-worship is, I think, a faithful exposition of the
anthropomorphistic ideas, which, as I have mentioned before, p. 9, had
been chiefly generated by the morbid imagination of the Egyptian monks,
and were supported by that numerous class, which formed the most zealous
and efficient defenders of the images. Leo V. was murdered in a church in
820; and Michael II., surnamed the Stammerer, whom the conspirators placed
on the throne, did not allow the images to be restored, though he was
moderate in his religious views. He recalled the defenders of the images
from exile, and seemed to steer a middle course between the enemies and
the defenders of images, though he shared the opinions of the former. He
was succeeded in 829 by his son, Theophilus,—a most decided opponent of
images,—and whose valour and love of justice are acknowledged by his
religious adversaries. He died in 841, leaving a minor son, Michael III.,
under the regency of his wife, Theodora. This princess, whose personal
character was irreproachable, governed the empire during thirteen years,
with considerable wisdom; but being an adherent of images, she restored
their worship,(61) which has since that time continued in the Greek Church
in perhaps even a more exaggerated form than in the Roman Catholic one,
and which can be without any impropriety called _iconolatry_, since
_idolatry_ may be perhaps considered as an expression too strong for ears
polite.
The struggle between the iconoclasts and the iconolaters, of which I have
given a mere outline, but which agitated the Eastern empire for nearly a
century and a half, ending in the complete triumph of the latter, deserves
the particular attention of all thinking Protestants; because it is
virtually the same contest that has been waged for more than three
centuries between Protestantism and Rome,(62) and which seems now to
assume a new phasis. I do not think that the ignorance of those times may
be considered as the principal cause of the triumph of the iconolatric
party, and that the spread of knowledge in our own day is a sufficient
safeguard against the recurrence of a similar contingency. There was in
the eighth and ninth centuries a considerable amount of learning at
Constantinople, where the treasures of classical literature, many of which
have since been lost, were preserved and studied.(63) The Greeks of that
time, though no doubt greatly inferior to the modern Europeans in physical
science, were not so in metaphysics and letters, whilst the gospel could
be read by all the educated classes in its original tongue, which was the
official, literary, and ecclesiastical language of the Eastern empire. The
Byzantine art was, moreover, very inferior to that of modern Europe, and
could not produce, except on some coarse and rustic intellects, that
bewitching effect, which the works of great modern painters and sculptors
often produce upon many refined and imaginative minds. It has been justly
remarked, by an accomplished writer of our day, that “the all-emancipating
press is occasionally neutralised by the soul-subduing miracles of
art.”(64)
The Roman Catholic Church perfectly understands this _soul-subduing_ power
of art, and the following is the exposition of her views on this subject
by one of her own writers, whom I have already quoted on a similar
subject, p. 51.
“That pictures and images in churches are particularly serviceable in
informing the minds of the humbler classes, and for such a purpose possess
a superiority over words themselves, is certain.
“Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,
Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fldelibus et quæ
Ipse sibi tradit spectator.”
—_Horace de Arte Poetica_, v. 180.
“What’s through the ear conveyed will never find
Its way with so much quickness to the mind,
As that, when faithful eyes are messengers,
Unto himself the fixed spectator bears.”
“The remark of a heathen poet is corroborated by the observations of the
most celebrated amongst ancient and modern Christian writers. So persuaded
was St Paulinus of Nola, fourteen hundred years ago, of the efficacy
possessed by paintings for conveying useful lessons of instruction, that
he adorned with a variety of sacred subjects the walls of a church which
he erected, and dedicated to God in honour of St Felix.
“Prudentius assures us how much his devotion was enkindled, as he gazed
upon the sufferings of martyrs, so feelingly depicted around their tombs
and in their churches. On his way to Rome, about the year 405, the poet
paid a visit to the shrine of St Cassianus, at Forum Cornelii, the modern
Imola, where the body of that Christian hero reposed, under a splendid
altar, over which were represented, in an expressive picture, all the
sufferings of his cruel martyrdom.(65) So moved was Prudentius, that he
threw himself upon the pavement, kissed the altar with religious
reverence, and numbering up with many a tear those wounds that sin had
inflicted upon his soul, concluded by exhorting every one to unite with
himself in intrusting their petitions for the divine clemency to the
solicitude of the holy martyr Cassianus, who will not only hear our
request, but will afford us the benefit of his patronage.”(66)
The anecdote of Prudentius evidently proves that what originally had been
intended for the instruction of the people, may very easily become an
object of their adoration. If a man of a superior education, like
Prudentius,(67) could be carried away by his feelings in such a manner as
to address his prayers to a dead man, how much greater must be the effect
of images upon less cultivated minds! and I have related, p. 88, on the
authority of the great Roman Catholic historian, Fleury, that the fathers
of the second Council of Nice, who, according to the same authority, were
a very ignorant set, shed tears at the sight of an image represented in an
absurd and fictitious story.
Such are the effects produced in teaching religion by means of images.
There can be no doubt about the truth of the observations contained in the
lines of Horace, which the author of “Hierurgia” quotes in defence of
images; but these observations refer to the theatre, and it appears to me
that the application of purely scenic precepts to the house of God is
something very like converting divine service into a comedy.
The limits of this essay allow me not to discuss the chances of an
iconolatric reaction in our days. I shall only observe, that in several
countries where the iconoclasts of the Reformation had gained a
predominant position, they were entirely crushed by the iconolatric
reaction, and that a _fond alliance of females and monks_, supported by
the ruling powers of the state, achieved in these parts as great a victory
as that which it obtained in the east under Irene and Theodora, not only
over the reason of man, but even over the authority of the Word of God;
and I believe that the only human means of preventing similar
contingencies are free institutions, which allow the fullest liberty of
discussion in regard to all religious opinions.
I have said before, p. 82, that the Pope opposed the abolition of images
proclaimed by the Emperor Leo III., and that this opposition was shared by
the imperial provinces of Italy, which revolted on that occasion against
their sovereign, and separated from the Byzantine empire. It was therefore
natural that the second Council of Nice, which restored the worship of
images, should obtain the approbation of Pope Hadrian I.; but his desire
to impose the enactments of that council upon the churches of the West met
with a decided opposition on the part of Charlemagne. This great monarch,
who is so celebrated by his efforts to convert the Pagan Saxons,
prosecuted with all the barbarity of his age, and whom the church has
placed amongst her saints, was so offended by the enactments of the second
Council of Nice in favour of the worship of images, that he composed, or
what is more probable, ordered to be composed in his name, a book against
that worship, and sent it to Pope Hadrian I., as an exposition of his own
sentiments, as well as of those of his bishops, on the subject in
question. This work, though written in violent language, contains many
very rational views about images, and unanswerable arguments against all
kinds of adoration offered to them. The substance of this celebrated
protest is as follows:—
Charlemagne says, that there is no harm in having images in a church,
provided they are not worshipped; and that the Greeks had fallen into two
extremes, one of which was to destroy the images, as had been ordained by
the Council of Constantinople, under Constantine Copronymus, and the other
to worship them, as was decided by the second Council of Nice under Irene.
He censures much more severely this latter extreme than the former,
because those who destroyed images had merely acted with levity and
ignorance, whilst it was a wicked and profane action to worship them. He
compared the first to such as mix water with wine, and the others to those
who infuse a deadly poison into it; in short, there could be no comparison
between the two cases. He marks, with great precision, the different kinds
of worship offered to the images, rejecting all of them. The second
Council of Nice decided that this worship should consist of kisses and
genuflexions, as well as of burning incense and wax candles before them.
All these practices are condemned by Charlemagne, as so many acts of
worship offered to a created being. He addresses the defenders of the
worship of images in the following manner:—
“You who establish the purity of your faith upon images, go, if you like,
_and fall upon your knees and burn incense before them_; but with regard
to ourselves we shall seek the precepts of God in his Holy Writ. _Light
luminaries before your pictures_, whilst we shall read the Scriptures.
_Venerate, if you like, colours_; but we shall worship divine mysteries.
_Enjoy the agreeable sight of your pictures_; but we shall find our
delight in the Word of God. _Seek after figures which cannot either see,
or hear, or __ taste_; but we shall diligently seek after the law of God,
which is irreprehensible.” He further says:—“I see images which have such
inscriptions, as for instance St Paul, and I ask, therefore, those who are
involved in this great error, why they do call images _holy (sanctus)_,
and why they do not say, conformably to the tradition of the fathers, that
these are images of the _saints_? Let them say in what consists the
sanctity of the images? Is it in the wood which had been brought from a
forest in order to make them? Is it in the colours with which they are
painted, and which are often composed of impure substances? Is it in the
wax, which gets dirty?” He taunts the worshippers of images, pointing out
an abuse which even now is as inevitable as it was then. “If,” says he,
“two pictures perfectly alike, but of which one is meant for the Virgin
and the other for Venus, are presented to you, you will inquire which of
them is the image of the Virgin and which is that of Venus, because you
cannot distinguish them. The painter will call one of these pictures the
image of the Virgin, and it will be immediately put up in a _high place,
honoured, and kissed_; whilst the other, representing Venus, will be
thrown away with horror. These two pictures are, however, made by the same
hand, with the same brush, with the same colours; they have the same
features, and the whole difference between them lies in their
inscriptions. Why is the one received and the other rejected? It is not on
account of the sanctity which one of them has, and the other has not; it
is, then, on account of its inscription; and yet certain letters attached
to a picture cannot give it a sanctity which it otherwise had not.”
This work was published for the first time in 1549, by Tillet, Roman
Catholic bishop of Meaux in France, though under an assumed name, and it
has been reprinted several times. Its authenticity, which had been at
first impugned by some Roman Catholic writers, was finally established
beyond every dispute, and acknowledged by the most eminent writers of the
Roman Catholic Church, such as Mabillon, Sirmond, &c. It is a very
remarkable production, for it most positively rejects every kind of
worship offered to images, without making any difference between _Latria_
and _Dulia_, and I think that its republication might be of considerable
service at the present time.(68)
The Pope sent a long letter in answer to the protest of Charlemagne, which
did not, however, satisfy that monarch, because he convened in 794 a
council at Frankfort, at which he presided himself. This synod, composed
of three hundred bishops of France, Germany, and Spain, and at which two
legates of the Pope were present, condemned the enactment of the second
Council of Nice respecting the worship of images.
This decree of the Council of Frankfort is very important, because it not
only condemned the worship of images, but it virtually rejected the
infallibility of the Popes, as well as of the General Councils, since it
condemned what they had established.
The opposition to the worship of images continued amongst the Western
churches for some time after the death of Charlemagne. Thus an assembly of
the French clergy, held at Paris in 825, condemned the decree of the
second Council of Nice as decidedly as it was done by the work of
Charlemagne and the Council of Frankfort. Claudius, bishop of Turin, who
lived about that time, opposed the worship of images, which he removed
from his churches, calling those idolaters who adhered to this practice;
he also condemned the adoration of relics, of the figure of the cross,
&c.; and he was not inaptly called, on this account, by the Jesuit
historian Maimbourg, the first Protestant minister.
There are other traces of a similar opposition during the ninth century,
but it seems to have entirely disappeared in the tenth, and it was again
renewed by the Albigenses in the eleventh century. Their history, however,
is foreign to the object of the present essay; and I shall endeavour to
give in my next chapter a short sketch of the legends of the saints,
composed during the middle ages.