LEO THE GREAT, THE LAST POPE OF IMPERIAL ROME
During the half-century which followed the death of Damasus occurred
two of the decisive events in the transformation of the Roman Empire
into Christian Europe. Paganism was destroyed, and the Empire was
shattered. Jerome had, with rhetorical inaccuracy, described the great
temple of Jupiter as squalid and deserted in the days of Damasus. Now
it was in truth deserted, for the imperial seal was set on its closed
doors; and the same seal guarded the door of the temples of Isis and
Mithra. The homeless gods had sheltered for a time in the schools and
in patrician mansions, but these also had fallen with the Empire. The
southern half of Europe became a disordered, semi-Christian world, over
which poured from the northern forests fresh armies of barbarians.
The City of Man was wrecked; and it was not unnatural that the Papacy
should aspire to make its old metropolis the centre of the new City of
God.
Two Popes of weak ability had followed Damasus, and witnessed, rather
than accomplished, the ruin of the old religion. It was Ambrose who
had directed the convenient youth of Gratian and Valentinian II., and
had dislodged the pagans and other rivals at the point of the spear.
Innocent I. (402-417) was a greater man: an upright priest, an able
statesman, a zealous believer in the divine right of Popes. Milman
has finely drawn him serenely holding his sceptre at Rome while the
Emperor cowered behind the fortifications at Ravenna. While Rome
tumbled in ruins about him, he continued calmly to tell the bishops
of Gaul and Spain and Italy what the "Apostolic See" directed them to
do. His puny yet bombastic successor, Zosimus, maintained the solitary
blunder, without the redeeming personality, of Innocent, and might
have wrecked the Papacy if he had not died within a year or so. The
worthier Boniface and still worthier Celestine restored Roman prestige
in some measure, and, in 440, after the edifying but undistinguished
Pontificate of Sixtus III., Leo the Great entered the chronicle.
Leo, a Roman of Tuscan extraction, was the chief deacon of the Roman
Church, and corresponded with Cyril of Alexandria on Eastern affairs.
It was probably at his instigation that the learned Cassianus wrote his
treatise _On the Incarnation of Christ_. In 440, Leo was sent by the
Emperor to reconcile the generals Aetius and Albinus, who quarrelled
while the Empire perished. Sixtus died in his absence, and Leo was
unanimously elected to the Papacy. Toward the close of September he
returned to Rome, and glanced about the troubled world which he had now
to rule.
The dogmatic Papal conception, which we find dawning in the mind
of Damasus and see very clear in the mind of Innocent I. and his
successors, reached its full development, on the spiritual side, in
the mind of Leo the Great. This development was inevitable. There were
Eastern, and even some Western, bishops who maintained, against Leo,
that the prestige of the Roman See was merely the prestige of Rome,
but the answer of the Papacy was easy and effective. In the Gospels
which Europe now treasured, Peter was the "rock" on which the Church
was built, and to him alone had been given the keys of the kingdom of
heaven. Had the Church lost its foundation when Peter died? Were the
keys buried beside the bones of Peter in that marble tomb at the foot
of the Vatican? There was, from the clerical point of view, logic in
the Roman bishop's claim to have inherited the princedom. Leo from
the first hour of his Pontificate was sincerely convinced of it. His
sermons are full of it. To him is committed "the care of all the
Churches": a phrase which he bequeaths to his successors. He is the new
type of Roman, blending the ideas of Jerome and Augustine. The wreck of
the City of Man matters little. What matters is that these Arian Goths
and Vandals are trampling on the City of God: that the churches of Gaul
and Spain and Italy and Africa and the East are in disorder, and the
successor of Peter must restore their discipline. He is so absorbed in
his divine duty that he does not notice how the circumstances favour
him. Every other lofty head in the Empire is bowed, and from the
seething and impoverished provinces hundreds are looking to the strong
man at Rome.
His early letters are the letters of a Supreme Pontiff. The African
bishops, he hears, suffer dreadful disorders in their churches.
Elections to church-dignities are bought and sold: even laymen and
twice-married clerics become bishops. With serene indifference to
the earlier history of the African Church and its tradition of
independence, he peremptorily recalls the canons and insists on their
observance.[47] Fortunately for him, the long struggle against the
Donatists and the devastating onset of the Vandals have enfeebled,
almost annihilated, the African Church, and there is none to question
his authority.
He hears that Anatolius has been made Bishop of Thessalonica, and
writes[48] to remind him that he is the "vicar" of the Roman bishop,
the successor of Peter, "on the solidity of which foundation the
Church is established." When, at a later date, Anatolius uses his
power harshly, he sternly rebukes him. And it is interesting to notice
what the discipline is on which he insists in this letter.[49] Even
subdeacons shall not marry, or, if they are married, shall not know
their wives. We are very far away from Callistus.
Another aspect of Leo's character appears in his treatment of the
Manichæans at Rome: an interesting illustration of how he kept the
strength and serenity of the old Roman though lacking his culture. Leo
had a terribly sombre idea of the Manichæans. They lingered in obscure
corners of the metropolis, and met stealthily, just as Christians had
done two centuries earlier; and of them were told, as had been told
of the obscure Christians, dreadful stories. Leo conducted a great
inquisition in 444, and brought the Manichæan bishop, with his "elect,"
to a solemn judgment before the clergy and nobles of Rome. There, he
says,[50] they all confessed that the violation of a girl of ten years
was part of their ritual. He called down upon them the secular arm,
and crushed them in Rome and Italy. What sort of a judicial process
was employed to elicit this extraordinary confession--so utterly at
variance with all that we know of the ascetic Manichæans--we are
not told. But we are painfully reminded of a similar declaration of
Augustine in his old age.[51]
In Gaul, the Pope encountered one of the last opponents of Papal aims
in the West. The province was completely demoralized by the triumphant
barbarians and by the arrival of lax clergy from Africa. In a letter of
uncertain date,[52] Leo gives us a dark picture of the state of things
in the southern provinces, and this is more than confirmed in the work
of the Marseilles priest Salvianus, _De Gubernatione Dei_. Laymen
pose as bishops, Leo says: priests sleep with their wives, and marry
their daughters to men who keep concubines: monks serve in the army,
or marry: and so on. From this disordered world men were ever ready
to appeal to the authority of Rome, and, in 445, a Bishop Celidonius
came to complain of the harshness of his metropolitan, the austere and
saintly Hilary of Arles. Hilary followed his Bishop to Rome, and, when
Leo decided against him, the saint made use, says Leo,[53] of "language
which no layman even should dare to use and no priest to hear," and
then "fled disgracefully" from Rome.
Again we are in a dilemma between two saints, and we must weigh as best
we can the letters of Leo against the biography of Hilary. It will be
found a general truth of early Papal history that the man who _appeals_
to Rome is heard more indulgently than the opponent who did not appeal.
Hilary, who had deposed the Bishop in plain accordance with the rules,
resented Leo's conduct, and scoffed at his supposed supremacy. He
then apprehended violence, and stealthily left Rome for Gaul. Leo
thereupon--or after hearing new charges against Hilary--wrote to the
bishops of Vienne[54] that they were released from obedience to Hilary,
who was thenceforward to confine himself to Arles. Whether Hilary ever
submitted or no we have no certain knowledge, but the affair had an
important sequel. In the same year (449), an imperial rescript,[55]
confessedly obtained by Leo, confirmed the sentence, and added:
We lay down this for ever, that neither the bishops of Gaul nor those
of any other province shall attempt anything contrary to ancient
usage, without the authority of the venerable man, the Pope of the
Eternal City.
Even in the height of this quarrel other provinces were not neglected,
as a few letters of the year 447 amply show. The letter to the Spanish
Bishop Turribius of Astorga[56] is notable as the first explicit Papal
approval of the execution of a heretic. It is usual to point out that
the errors of Priscillian, the heretic in question, were believed to
include magical practices (then a legal and social crime) as well as
Manichæan and Gnostic tenets. But we must recognize one of the most
terrible principles of the Middle Ages, and something far more than
social zeal, in the following words of Leo:
Although ecclesiastical mildness shrinks from blood-punishments, yet
it is aided by the severe decrees of Christian princes, since they who
fear corporal suffering will have recourse to spiritual remedies.
Here is no reference to legal or social crimes, but to an error which
concerns the ecclesiastic. Similar letters, enforcing discipline in the
accents of an undisputed head of the Church, were sent to the bishops
of Sicily,[57] the bishop of Beneventum,[58] and the bishop of Aquileia.
These quotations from the letters and sermons of Leo will suffice,
not only to show the untiring energy and lofty aim of the man, but
to convince us that the primacy of Rome in the West is now won. West
of the Adriatic, St. Hilary is the last great rebel against the Roman
conception. It is true that this spiritual supremacy is still, in part,
reliant on "the severe decrees of Christian princes," but the imperial
authority is fast fading into nothing, and in another generation the
Papal autocracy will stand alone. Leo was not ambitious. Something of
the instinctive masterliness of the older Roman may be detected in his
actions, but he was a profoundly religious man, seeking neither wealth
nor honours of earth, convinced at once that he discharged a divine
duty and exerted an authority of the most beneficent value to that
disordered Christendom. The calamities of Europe had changed the empty
glories of a Damasus into a power second only to that of Octavian.
When we turn to the East we have not only a most valuable indication of
the evolution of Christendom into two independent and hostile Churches,
but an even more interesting revelation of subtle and unexpected shades
in the character of Leo. The great Pope, aided by the very calamities
of the time, fastens his primacy on Europe; and, with even mightier
exertions and the most tense use of all his resources, he proves that
an extension of that primacy to the East is for ever impossible.
His friendly correspondence with Cyril of Alexandria was resumed in
the year 444, and, in the adjustment of their differences, Leo made
concessions. In the same year, Cyril died, and his successor Dioscorus
was addressed with the same recognition of equality. There are
differences in points of discipline, but Leo is content to say[59]:
"Since the blessed Peter was made chief of the apostles by the Lord,
and the Roman Church abides by his instructions, it is impossible to
suppose that his holy disciple Mark, who first ruled the Church of
Alexandria, gave it other regulations." Five years later, however, Leo
received from the East an appeal against the Bishop of Constantinople,
and a notable conflict began.
In the unending struggle in the East over the nature of Christ, the
monks, a fierce and turbulent rabble living on the fringes of the great
cities, had been the most effective champions of orthodoxy, and great
was their excitement when the archimandrite (or abbot) of one of their
large monasteries outside Constantinople was accused of heresy. The
heresy is really diagnosed as such by the proper authorities, but it is
not superfluous for the historian to observe that the monk Eutyches was
godson of the most powerful eunuch at the court, and this eunuch was
detested by the virtuous Empress Pulcheria and by Flavian, the Bishop
of Constantinople. Eutyches was condemned by a synod in 448, and he
appealed to Leo. I have observed that the appealer--especially from
a province where Roman authority was disputed--always had a gracious
hearing at the Lateran. In February, 449, Leo wrote to Flavian[60] to
express his surprise that he had not sent a report of the proceedings
to Rome and that he had disregarded the appeal which the monk had made
from his sentence to Rome. However, since appeal _has_ been made to
Leo, "we want to know the reasons of your action, and we desire a full
account to be communicated to us." Flavian's reply[61] curtly described
the heresy and trusted that Leo would see the justice of the sentence.
In the early summer, the Emperors of East and West issued a joint
summons to the bishops of Christendom to assemble in Council at
Ephesus, and Leo's letters indicate a feverish activity. His chief work
was to write a long dogmatic letter[62] on the nature of Christ--a
very able theological essay--to be read by his Legates at the Council.
Dioscorus of Alexandria presided over this imposing assembly of 360
bishops and representative clergy, in the presence of two imperial
commissioners, the Papal Legates, and the patriarchs of Antioch and
Jerusalem, yet it has passed into Western ecclesiastical history
under the opprobrious title, given to it by Leo,[63] of "The Robbers'
Meeting." It is quite true that the sittings dissolved in brawls, and
monks and soldiers brandished their ominous weapons over the heads of
the bishops, but that was not unprecedented. The main fact was that
Dioscorus contemptuously refused to hear the Roman Legates, as Leo
says, and induced the Council to restore Eutyches and depose Flavian.
Deacon Hilary, one of the Legates, fled in terror of his life, and
unfolded these enormities to Leo, whose correspondence now became
intense and indignant.
For a few months, Leo made strenuous efforts to redeem the prestige
of his See. We know, since 1882, that Flavian in turn appealed to
Rome, but Leo needed no new incentive. He wrote repeatedly to the
pious Pulcheria, to Theodosius, to his "vicar" in Thessalonica, and
to the monks, priests, and people of Constantinople. He knew the
situation well. Alexandria had defied Constantinople, but the case of
Constantinople was weakened by the division of court-factions and the
monkish support of Eutyches. It seemed an admirable occasion for Rome
to adjudicate, and Leo pressed Theodosius and Pulcheria[64] to summon
an Ecumenical Council at Rome. In the thick of the struggle (February,
450), Valentinian III. visited Rome with the court, and Leo, with tears
in his eyes, besought the Empress Galla Placidia to work for the Roman
Council. Galla Placidia knew no more than the monks about theology, and
was more concerned about her wayward daughter Honoria, but she urged
Pulcheria to ensure the holding of the Council at Rome. Presently there
came from Constantinople the news that Theodosius was dead, Pulcheria
was mistress of the court, the eunuch-godfather had been executed, the
monk exiled, and the Archbishop Flavian restored to his See.
But the more agreeable aspect of this situation was soon darkened by
a report that the people of Constantinople had compelled Pulcheria
to contract a virginal marriage with Marcian, and the new Emperor
had summoned an Ecumenical Council in the East. Leo, for reasons
which we may understand presently, now made every effort to prevent
the holding of a Council,[65] but the Emperor would not endanger his
position by flouting the Eastern Church, and, on October 8th, some
six hundred bishops gathered at Chalcedon. Four Legates represented
Leo, and were awarded a kind of presidency of the Council. Leo's great
doctrinal letter was received with thunders of applause, and, when it
was speedily decided to condemn Dioscorus (who had gone the length of
excommunicating Leo), it was one of the Papal Legates who pronounced
the sonorous sentence. But all knew that these compliments were the
prelude to a very serious struggle.
After the fourteenth session, the Papal Legates and imperial
commissioners affected to believe that the business of the day was
over. Later in the day, however, a fifteenth session was held, and the
two hundred bishops present framed the famous twenty-eighth canon of
the Council of Chalcedon. It runs:
As in all things we follow the ordinances of the holy fathers and
know the recently read canon of the hundred and fifty bishops [of
the Council of Constantinople], so do we decree the same in regard
to the privileges of the most holy Church of Constantinople. Rightly
have the fathers conceded to the See of Old Rome its privileges on
account of its character as the Imperial City, and, moved by the same
considerations, the one hundred and fifty bishops have awarded the
like privileges to the most Holy See of New Rome.[66]
This drastic restriction of the Roman bishop to the West, and
disdainful assurance that the prestige of the city of Rome was the
only basis of his primacy, was read in the next session, and the Papal
Legates were gravely disturbed. There can be very little doubt that,
as Hefele says, the Legates had abstained from the fifteenth session
because they knew that this canon would be discussed and passed. There
was no secrecy about it, and there was much in previous sessions that
led to it. Indeed, it is clear that Leo himself knew of the design,
and this probably explains his resistance, which has puzzled many, to
the holding of the Council. In the heat of the discussion, the Roman
Legate, Boniface, produced this instruction from Leo: "If any, taking
their stand on the importance of their cities, should endeavour to
arrogate anything to themselves, resist them with all decision."[67]
Bishop Eusebius of Dorylæum (the accuser of Eutyches) then said that
he had read the third canon of Constantinople to Leo at Rome some time
before the Council, and that Leo had assented to it. Leo afterwards
denied this, but we must assume that he merely denied having consented,
not the reading of the canon to him. It is quite clear that Leo
prepared his Legates for this discussion.
It implies no reflection whatever on the character of Leo that he
should instruct his Legates diplomatically to obstruct the passing
of a canon which he regarded as contrary to a divine ordination. But
the next act of his Legates is more serious. Bishop Paschasinus, the
chief Legate, produced and read, in Latin, the sixth canon of the
famous Council of Nicæa, and the Greeks were amazed to learn, when it
was translated, that it awarded the primacy to Rome. There is now no
doubt that this was a spurious or adulterated canon, and the feelings
of the Greeks, when they consulted the genuine canon, can be imagined.
The session closed in a weak compromise. The Legates were allowed to
protest that the twenty-eighth canon was passed in their absence, and
was injurious to the rights of their Bishop, "who presided over the
whole Church." The Greeks politely registered their protest, endorsed
the canon, and proceeded to indite a very Greek letter to the Roman
Bishop. They express to Leo[68] their deep joy at the successful
congress, their entire respect for "the voice of Peter," their loving
gratitude that, through his Legates, he had presided over them "as the
head over the members"; but they admit that one of their canons did
not commend itself to his Legates and they trust that he will at once
gratify their Emperor by endorsing it! Christendom was divided into two
parts.
The sequel matters little. The Legates returned and declared that the
signatures to the canon had been extorted (as Leo afterwards wrote),
though this point had been raised in their presence by the imperial
commissioners, and its falsity put beyond dispute. To Marcian, to
Pulcheria, and to the new Bishop of Constantinople, Anatolius, Leo
wrote acrid letters, denouncing the miserable vanity and ambition
of Anatolius and the violation of the (spurious) canons of Nicæa.
Marcian curtly requested him--almost ordered him[69]--to confirm the
results of the Council without delay, and Leo signed the doctrinal
decisions. There the matter ended. Rome affected to treat the famous
canon as invalid, and the East genially ignored the absence of Leo's
signature.[70]
In the midst of his feverish efforts to defeat this Eastern rebellion,
Leo was summoned to meet the terrible King of the Huns, and the memory
of his triumph, gathering volume from age to age, has completely
obliterated his failure to dominate the Greeks. Italy, painfully
enfeebled by the Goths, now saw "the scourge of God" slowly descend
its northern slopes and prepare for a raid on the south. Leo and a
group of Roman officials met Attila on the banks of the Mincio, and the
ferocious King and his dreaded Huns meekly turned their backs on Italy
and retired to the East. Pen and brush and legend have embellished that
wonderful deliverance until it has become a mystery and a miracle, but
it was neither mystery nor miracle to the men who first made a scanty
record of it. Jornandes[71] following the older historian Priscus,
says that Attila was hesitating whether to advance on Rome or no at
the moment when Leo and his companions arrived; his officers were
trying to dissuade him, and were appealing to his superstition with a
reminder of the fate of Alaric after he had sacked Rome. Prosper merely
says in his _Chronicle_ that Leo was well received, and succeeded.
Idatius, Bishop of Aquæ Flaviæ at the time, does not even mention Leo
in his _Chronicle_. The Huns, he says, were severely stricken by war,
by famine, and by some epidemic, and, "being in this plight, they made
peace with the Romans and departed."[72] But Rome at the time knew
nothing of these fortunate circumstances, and, in the delirious joy of
its deliverance, imagined the savage Hun shrinking in awe before its
venerable Bishop: kept on imagining, indeed, until some pious fancy of
the eighth century believed that the holy apostles had appeared beside
the Pope.
When, a few years later (455) a fresh invasion threatened Rome--when
the vicious incompetence of the court amid all its desolation set afoot
another feud and brought the Vandals from Africa--Leo went out once
more to plead for the impoverished city. Genseric was not a savage;
the Vandals are libelled by the grosser implication we associate with
their name today. Yet he altered not one step of his onward course at
the petitions or the threats of the venerable Pontiff. To say that he
consented to refrain from slaying or torturing those who submitted, and
from firing the city, is merely to say that Leo failed to wring any
concession from the largely civilized Vandal. The aged Pontiff sadly
returned with his clergy, and for a whole fortnight had to listen in
the Lateran Palace to the shrieks of the women who were dragged from
their homes, and to receive accounts of the plundering of his churches.
The Church of St. Peter and, probably, the Lateran Church alone were
spared. And when the Vandal ships had sailed away with their thousands
of noble captives, including the Empress Eudoxia, and their mounds of
silver, bronze, and marble, Leo had to melt down the larger vessels of
the great _basilicas_ to find the necessary chalices for his priests.
Ancestral feelings must have stirred unconsciously in the mind of
Leo when he beheld this second ravage of the city of his fathers,
but he at once resumed his Pontifical rule. On his return from the
north of Italy, he had found occasion to act once more in the East
as if the canon of the last Council were forgotten. Now the monks
of Palestine had asserted their unyielding zeal, had driven the
patriarch of Jerusalem from his seat, and had won to their cause
the romantic Empress Eudoxia (of the Eastern court) whose suspected
amours had brought on her a polite sentence of exile. Leo at once,
somewhat superfluously, called the pious Marcian's attention to the
ecclesiastical disorders in his kingdom, and, apparently at that
Emperor's request, wrote paternal admonitions to Eudoxia and to the
monks. It was gratifying to be able to report presently that the
disorders were at an end.
Later (in 453) the monks of Cappadocia gave trouble; and the monks
and other supporters of the deposed Dioscorus at Alexandria entered
upon a far graver agitation, and murdered their new archbishop. The
pious Marcian, to make matters worse, died (457), and, by one of those
strange intrigues which disgraced the Eastern court, Leo the Isaurian,
an astute peasant, mounted the golden throne. On this man Leo's
diplomatic mixture of courtly language and high sacerdotal pretensions
made little impression. In spite of Leo's protests[73] he called
another General Council, and Leo had to be content to send Legates to
inform the assembled bishops what is "the rule of apostolic faith";
which he again set forth in a long dogmatic epistle.[74] To the last
year, Leo maintained, serenely and unswervingly, his calm assumption
of jurisdiction over the East. Whether he wrote to the patriarch of
Antioch,[75] or the patriarch of Constantinople,[76] or the patriarchs
of Jerusalem and Alexandria, he spoke as if his sovereignty had never
been questioned. "The care of all the churches" lies on his shoulders.
He disdains diplomacy and argument. His tone is arrogant and dogmatic
in the highest degree, yet no man can read reflectively those long and
imperious epistles and not realize that he spoke, not as the individual
Leo, demanding personal prestige, but as the successor of Peter,
obeying a command which, he sincerely believed, Christ had laid upon
him.
So the Papacy was built up. Leo went his way on November 10, 461, and
was buried, fitly, in the vestibule of St. Peter's. He had formulated
for all time the Papal conception that the successor of Peter had the
care of all the churches of the world. A bishop shall not buy his seat
in Numidia: a rabble of monks shall not rebel in Syria: a prelate
shall not harshly treat his clergy in Gaul, but the Bishop of Rome must
see to it. How that gaunt frame of duty was perfected in the next two
centuries, and how the prosperity of later times hid the austere frame
under a garment of flesh, is the next great chapter in the evolution of
the Roman Pontificate.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 47: _Ep._, xii.]
[Footnote 48: _Ep._, vi.]
[Footnote 49: _Ep._, xiv.]
[Footnote 50: Sermon xvi.]
[Footnote 51: See the author's _Saint Augustine and His Age_, p. 409.]
[Footnote 52: _Ep._, clxvii.]
[Footnote 53: _Ep._, x., 3.]
[Footnote 54: _Ep._, x.]
[Footnote 55: _Ep._, xi., in Migne.]
[Footnote 56: _Ep._, xv.]
[Footnote 57: XVI. and xvii.]
[Footnote 58: XIX.]
[Footnote 59: _Ep._, ix.]
[Footnote 60: _Ep._, xxiii.]
[Footnote 61: _Ep._, xxvi.]
[Footnote 62: The "Tome of Leo," _Ep._, xxviii.]
[Footnote 63: _Ep._, xcv.]
[Footnote 64: _Ep._, xliii. and xlv.]
[Footnote 65: _Ep._, lxxxii. and lxxxiii.]
[Footnote 66: Hefele's _History of the Councils of the Church_, iii.,
411.]
[Footnote 67: Hefele, iii., 425.]
[Footnote 68: _Ep._, xcviii.]
[Footnote 69: _Ep._, cx.]
[Footnote 70: In a letter which he wrote about the time (_Ep._,
ciii.) to the bishops of Gaul, Leo tells them that Dioscorus has been
condemned, and says that he encloses a copy of the sentence. The copy
appended to the letter is spurious, for it contains an allusion to
"the holy and most blessed Pope, head of the universal Church, Leo
... the foundation and rock of faith." But I do not think one can say
confidently that this is the actual document sent by Leo.]
[Footnote 71: _De Rebus Geticis_, xlii.]
[Footnote 72: The Chronicles of Prosper and Idatius are in Migne, vol.
li. Idatius adds that Attila was threatened (in his rear) by the troops
of Marcian, though we cannot trace such a movement of the Eastern
troops. It was enough that Attila believed it.]
[Footnote 73: _Ep._, clxii.]
[Footnote 74: CLXV.]
[Footnote 75: CXLIX.]
[Footnote 76: CLXX.]