THE FALL OF EUTROPIUS—HIS RETREAT TO THE SANCTUARY OF THE
CHURCH—RIGHT OF SANCTUARY MAINTAINED BY CHRYSOSTOM—DEATH
OF EUTROPIUS—REVOLT OF GOTHIC COMMANDERS TRIBIGILD AND
GAÏNAS—DEMAND OF GAÏNAS FOR AN ARIAN CHURCH REFUSED BY
CHRYSOSTOM—DEFEAT AND DEATH OF GAÏNAS. A.D. 399-401.
The Empress Eudoxia had rejoiced to discover that the new Archbishop,
although he mainly owed his promotion to the supreme minister of
the Court, was by no means disposed to be ruled by him. If, indeed,
Eutropius had expected to be rewarded for the elevation of Chrysostom
by finding in him a complaisant servant, he sustained a severe
disappointment. Some little pretences which the minister made of
assisting the Church, by patronising Chrysostom’s missionary projects,
could not disguise the iniquitous venality of his administration, or
protect him from the solemn warnings and severe censure of one who
was no respecter of persons. In fact, when the Archbishop declaimed
against the cupidity, injustice, and extortions of the rich, it was
obvious to all that Eutropius was the most signal example of those
vices. Eudoxia was anxiously aiming to compass the fall of the detested
minister; detested by her more especially, not only because he thwarted
her influence with Arcadius generally, but had also persuaded him to
withhold from her the title of Augusta until she should present a male
heir to the throne. She spared no pains therefore to conciliate the
Archbishop, who might prove a valuable ally to her cause. It has been
seen with what an appearance at least of humble piety she took part in
the nocturnal procession which conducted some sacred reliques to their
resting-place outside Constantinople.
Her chamberlain, Amantius (himself distinguished for unaffected
Christian piety), was the frequent bearer to the Archbishop of her
liberal contributions to the support of churches, or the relief of the
poor. With her own hands, it is said, she traced designs for basilicas
to be erected at her expense in some of the country districts.[461]
Chrysostom was always ready to welcome as genuine any manifestations
of religious feeling. Such practical proofs of her attachment to
the Church completely captivated him, and for the present his rich
vocabulary could hardly furnish language adequate to express his
admiration and gratitude.[462]
Meanwhile, the poor doomed minister, not content to remain as he
began, enjoying the reality of power without the name, prepared the
way for his own destruction by inducing the Emperor to bestow on him
the titles of Patrician and Consul. The acquisition of these venerated
and venerable names by the eunuch slave caused a profound emotion of
indignation and shame throughout the Empire, but especially in the
Western capital, where they were bound up with all the most noble
and glorious memories in the history of the nation. It is true the
consulship was now an empty honour, destitute of all the great duties
and responsibilities which formerly were attached to it. But the year
was still named after the consul, and the character of the man was by
a superstitious feeling projected on to the year which he inaugurated.
The name of the odious Eutropius, eunuch and slave, if prefixed to the
year, would seem to overshadow it with a kind of ominous and baleful
blight, and to be in itself a portent of incalculable disaster.
In short, after their indignation had vented itself in much bitter
sarcasm, the Romans resolved that the consulship of Eutropius should
never be inscribed at the Capitol. A solemn deputation from the people
and senate waited on Honorius and Stilicho at Milan, to submit their
decision, and to implore the imperial assent. Their spokesman recounted
the glorious exploits of Theodosius and (by a flattering courtesy)
of his son. The Saxon by the ocean, defeated; Britain delivered from
the Picts; Gaul protected from the menaces of Germany! “Through thee
Rome beholds the Frank humbled at her feet, the Suevian discomfited,
and the Rhine, submissive to thy rule, salutes thee under the name of
Germanicus. But the East, alas! envies us our prosperity; abominable
conspiracies are fermenting there which tend to break up our unity” ...
the revolt of Gildo, the destruction of African towns, the famine of
Rome, all these calamities were the work of Eutropius, and for these he
was rewarded with the consulship! The East, accustomed to stoop under
the sceptre of women, might accept the rule of a eunuch slave; but that
to which the Orontes and the Halys submitted as ordinary custom would
be a foul stain on the waters of the Tiber. The image of Eutropius
should never be placed in the same rank with those of Æmilius, of
Decius, of Camillus, the saviours and supporters of their country, the
champions of Roman freedom!... “Rise from your tombs, ancient Romans,
pride of Latium; behold an unknown colleague on your curule chairs;
rise and avenge the majesty of the Roman name!”[463]
Honorius, prompted no doubt by Stilicho, accorded a favourable reply
to the supplication of the Roman people. Mallius Theodorus, prætorian
prefect of Italy, a man eminent in virtue and ability as lawyer,
soldier, and writer, and not less popular than distinguished, was
nominated Consul by Honorius amidst general approbation, and his name
appears in the Fasti of the West without a colleague.[464]
No doubt some of the virtuous indignation of the Romans is to be
attributed to the jealousy which now ran high between East and
West, but we may also not fancifully discern genuine sparks of the
independent spirit of their forefathers. Amidst the general decadence
and degeneracy of the whole Empire, the West did not descend, could
not have descended, to such depths of servile adulation as did the
Byzantines on the occasion of the inauguration of Eutropius as Consul.
When, arrayed in an ample Roman robe, he assumed his seat in the
palace of the Cæsars, the doors were thrown open to an eager crowd of
flatterers. The senate, the generals, all the high functionaries of the
state, poured in to offer their homage to the great personage; emulated
each other in the honour of kissing his hand, and even his wrinkled
visage. They saluted him as the bulwark of the laws, and the parent of
the Emperor. Statues of bronze or marble were placed in various parts
of the city, representing him in the costume of warrior or judge, and
the inscriptions on their pedestals styled him third founder of the
city after Byzas and Constantine.
No wonder that Claudian declaimed with bitter sarcasm against “a
Byzantine nobility and Greek Quirites,” and even invokes Neptune by a
stroke of his trident to unseat and submerge the degenerate city which
had inflicted such a deep disgrace upon the Empire.[465]
And in truth a blow of no mean force, though directed not by the hand
of a mythic deity, but of a stout barbarian was about to descend on
the Eastern capital. The consequences of it were averted only by the
sacrifice of the new consul who had chiefly provoked it; upon him
it came with crushing effect: he fell never to rise again. In the
final scene of this curious drama the Archbishop plays a conspicuous
part, and therefore it must be unfolded from the beginning. But,
independently of this, it throws light upon the condition of the
Eastern Empire at that period.
Tribigild, a Gothic soldier of distinction, had been, according to
a usage now prevalent, promoted to the rank of Tribune, and placed
in command of a military colony of Gruthongi (a large branch of
the Ostrogoths), established in the region of Phrygia, near the
town of Nacolea. The recent elevation of Alaric to the rank of
Commander-in-chief of the Roman forces in the East had encouraged the
pretensions and raised the expectations of all barbarian commanders.
In the February or March next after the appointment of Eutropius to
the consulship, Tribigild appeared at court to solicit promotion for
himself and a higher rate of pay for his martial colonists, who, too
ignorant or too proud to maintain themselves by cultivating the soil,
were perishing of hunger in the midst of the most productive regions of
Asia Minor. His suit was one among many of similar applications at that
time constantly brought before the Court, and it was coldly dismissed
by the Emperor’s minister. Tribigild was not one to return home and
brood in sullen and ineffective silence over his repulse. Gaïnas, the
Gothic leader, to whom it will be remembered Stilicho had confided the
task of putting Rufinus to death, was still in Constantinople; and he
was a relation of Tribigild, who found in him a sympathiser to inflame
rather than soothe his sense of wrong. In this irritated frame of mind,
like a train of powder only needing the application of a match to
produce an explosion, he returned to Phrygia. According to Claudian,
that match was applied by his wife. He dramatically describes her
welcome of the returning husband: “She flies to meet him, embraces him
with her snow-white arms, and eagerly inquires what honours or rewards
he brings back from the generous prince.” When the chieftain relates
his ineffectual errand, and the cold disdain with which he had been
treated by Eutropius, the chieftainess tears her face with her nails,
and with bitter irony bids her husband sheathe his sword and attend to
his plough or his vine. She contrasts her own condition with the happy
wives and sisters of other warriors; they enjoyed rich spoils in the
shape of adornments or of beautiful Grecian handmaids. “Alaric, who
broke treaties, was rewarded for it, but those who observe them remain
poor. Alaric invaded and pillaged Epirus, and was made commander of the
forces; _you_ go humbly to solicit your due and are repulsed. Enrich
yourself with booty, and you will be a Roman citizen as soon as you
please.”[466] No doubt this scene, whether wholly imaginary or not,
faithfully represents the feelings which, since the fatal promotion of
Alaric, must have encouraged treasonable designs on the part of many
barbarian chiefs. At any rate, whether the resentment of Tribigild
was inflamed or not by the irony of his wife, he resolved to cast
off allegiance to the Empire. He mustered his forces, which gladly
abandoned their feeble attempts at husbandry to return to the more
congenial pursuit of war and plunder. The rich country of Phrygia was
rapidly overrun, and some of the fortified towns, owing partly to the
decay of their walls, were captured. All Asia Minor was convulsed with
apprehension, and appealed to Constantinople for protection.
Eutropius affected to treat the rebellion as a petty insurrection,
the suppression of which belonged rather to the judge armed with
instruments of torture than to a military force. He declined the
proffered assistance of Gaïnas, but secretly negotiated with Tribigild,
in the hope of subduing him by means of promotion or of a bribe in
money. The Goth, proud to have turned the tables upon the minister who
had recently treated him with scorn, steadfastly declined to accept
any satisfaction but one—the head of Eutropius himself. Thus war was
inevitable; but who was to conduct it? Eutropius dared not trust
Gaïnas to act against his own countryman and kinsman. He retained
him therefore at Constantinople in command of the city troops, and
committed the management of the legions to one of his favourites,
Leo, described by Claudian as a man “abounding in flesh, but scant
of brains;”[467] once a wool-carder, but, under the administration
of the eunuch, a military commander. His obesity made him an object
of derision to the army, and, joined to his natural incapacity and
ignorance, rendered him the most unfit man to conduct an expedition
against the subtle and active barbarian. Leo crossed the Bosporus with
a large, ill-disciplined army, whose approach was welcomed by the
devastated provinces, which vainly rejoiced at the prospect of speedy
deliverance from the ravager. The enemy, meanwhile, had retreated
southwards through Pisidia, and after a narrow escape from destruction
in the defiles of Mount Taurus, where the inhabitants made a fierce
stand, he emerged into Pamphylia, and awaited Leo in the vast plain
of the Eurymedon and Melas, which extends between the chain of Taurus
and the sea. The doughty commander of the imperial forces eagerly
pursued the Goths, and flattered himself, as the artful chieftain
pretended to retreat in alarm, that he had cooped him up by the sea.
In the confident anticipation of success, the discipline, such as it
was, of Leo’s camp became still more relaxed. Little or no watch was
kept; festivity, drunkenness, and disorder of all kinds prevailed;
while the general had allowed himself to be drawn into a fatal position
between a wary enemy in front and an impassable morass in his rear. In
the depth of a dark night, the Goth swooped down upon his prey: all
were asleep in the camp, the slumbers of many deepened by drunkenness.
Those who were not killed on the spot fled in wild confusion, but only
to flounder in the marsh, in the oozy bed of which large numbers were
absorbed. A few scattered remnants reached the Bosporus by devious
routes, to carry tidings of the disaster to Constantinople. Leo himself
had plunged on horseback into the morass; the animal soon sank under
the weight of his bulky rider, who, after vain struggles to extricate
himself, was finally sucked beneath the quag. To such a bathos have
the annals of Roman warfare descended! A Roman general suffocated in
mud![468]
The news of this disaster struck panic into the population and Court
of Constantinople. There was but one who rejoiced; for he saw himself
master of the situation. This was Gaïnas; he was the only man at hand
capable of confronting Tribigild, and he was despatched across the
Bosporus with his barbarian auxiliaries. But he did nothing to check
the enemy, who had resumed his career of pillage. He represented that
the forces opposed to him were insuperable, but expressed a firm
conviction that Tribigild would become as loyal a servant as himself on
one condition—the surrender of the minister Eutropius, the principal
author of all the evils of the State.[469]
Arcadius was placed in a state of cruel perplexity. We need not
suppose that he was attached to Eutropius, but his weak and indolent
nature shrank from the responsibility and labour to which, through
the industry of his ambitious minister, he had been a stranger. Now,
however, from all quarters the truth was forced upon him, that if he
would save his throne, he must part with his newly-made consul. Ugly
rumours were prevalent that Stilicho was meditating a march to the
East, and at the same time a new king, hostile to the Empire, had
ascended the throne in Persia.[470] But a nearer and more persuasive
enemy of Eutropius was at hand to give the finishing impulse to his
fall. The profound jealousy of his power entertained by Eudoxia has
been already intimated. Not only had the title of Augusta been withheld
from her through his influence, but he had even carried his arrogance
so far at this time as to declare that his hand, which had elevated
her, could also depose her from her present position altogether. The
proud Frankish blood of the Empress could ill brook such words from the
lips of an upstart menial, consul though he now was. With a passionate
gesture she dismissed him from her presence, hastened to her two young
children, Flaccilla and Pulcheria, and with them made her way into the
apartment of Arcadius. To his inquiries as to the purpose of her sudden
appearance she made at first no reply save by a flood of tears, in
which the children, from natural sympathy, joined; but presently, in
language broken by sobs, she related a tale of insults received at the
hands of Eutropius, and the crowning insult of the whole series. This
was the blow which was completely to fell the tottering minister. He
was summoned to the imperial presence, and having been informed that he
was deprived of his official dignity, and his property confiscated, he
was commanded instantly to quit the palace under pain of death.[471]
The poor wretch, who had mounted from the lowest dregs of society to
the grandest position a subject could occupy, was thus by a single blow
suddenly reduced to the position from which he had started; and even
worse, for death stared him in the face. The bows and smiles with which
courtiers had greeted him that morning, when he was still the royal
favourite, concealed, he well knew, a hatred and a scorn which were not
confined to them, but animated the whole population, and only needed
opportunity to declare themselves. That opportunity had come. He had
no friends; whither should he fly? There was but one place to which
he could in his extremity naturally turn—the sanctuary of the Church;
but here, by the cruel irony of his fate, a law emanating from himself
barred his entrance.
The right of asylum, which was once possessed by many of the Pagan
temples, passed over, by a natural transition, about the time of
Constantine, to Christian churches. However useful in ages of great
rudeness and ferocity this right may be, either to shelter the innocent
from lawless violence, or to give offenders protection from vindictive
rage till the time of equitable trial, it inevitably becomes, sooner
or later, an intolerable interference with the natural course of law
and justice. Tiberius had found it expedient to restrict or abolish
such rights attached to many of the Greek and Asiatic temples. Their
suppression was resisted partly from feelings of pride, partly of
mercenary interest, partly of respect for the sanctity of the places,
as in the case in our own country of the sanctuary of Westminster.[472]
In the reign of Theodosius I. a law was passed which excepted gross
criminals and public debtors, and another in the reign of Arcadius,
which excepted Jewish debtors who pretended to be Christians, from
the privileges of asylum;[473] but by a law of September, A.D. 397,
suggested by Eutropius, clergy and monks, in whose churches or convents
fugitives might shelter, were obliged to surrender them to the officers
of justice, though they might appeal to the Court in their favour.[474]
The special object of Eutropius had been to cut off all retreat from
the victims of his jealous ambition or avarice; and now he was one
of the first to want the protection which he had himself abolished.
But he knew, no one better, that the law had excited much resentment
and resistance on the part of the Church; and it might well be that
the Archbishop would gladly connive at the violation of the obnoxious
measure by the very person who had framed it. He resolved to make the
attempt. In the humblest guise of a suppliant, tears streaming down his
puckered cheeks, his scant grey hairs smeared with dust, he crept into
the cathedral, pushed aside the curtain which divided the chancel or
sanctuary from the nave, and, clinging closely to the holy table,[475]
awaited the approach of the Archbishop or any of the clergy.[476] The
enemy was on his track. As he lay quaking with terror, he could hear
on the other side of the thin partition the trampling of feet, mingled
with the clattering of arms and voices raised in threatening tones by
soldiers on the search. At this crisis he was found by the Archbishop,
in a state of pitiable and abject terror; his cheek blanched with a
death-like pallor, his teeth chattering, his whole frame quivering, as
with faltering lips he craved the asylum of the Church.[477]
He was not repulsed as the destroyer of that shelter which he now
sought. Chrysostom rejoiced in the opportunity afforded to the Church
of exhibiting at once her clemency and power, by taking a noble revenge
upon her former adversary. The clamour of the soldiers on the other
side of the veil increased. Chrysostom led the unhappy fugitive to the
sacristy; and having concealed him there, he confronted his pursuers,
asserted the inviolability of the Church’s sanctuary, and refused to
surrender the refugee. “None shall penetrate the sanctuary save over my
body; the Church is the Bride of Jesus Christ, who has intrusted her
honour to me, and I will never betray it.” The soldiers threatened to
lay violent hands on the Archbishop; but he freely presented himself to
them, and only desired to be conducted to the Emperor, that the whole
affair might be submitted to his judgment. He was accordingly placed
between two rows of spearmen, and marched like a prisoner from the
cathedral to the palace.[478]
The populace meanwhile had heard of the wonderful event of the day. The
news of the detested minister’s degradation had circulated through the
Hippodrome, where a grand performance had attracted large multitudes.
The spectators rose in a mass, uttered a shout of exultation, and
vociferously demanded the head of the culprit.[479]
Chrysostom meanwhile maintained before the Emperor his lofty tone
of authority in vindication of the Church’s right of asylum. Human
laws could not weigh in the balance against divine; the very man who
had assailed the Church’s divine right was now forced, in his day
of distress, to plead in favour of it. The Emperor was moved, as he
always was by any one who possessed some of that force of character
which he himself lacked. Some feelings of compassion also for his late
minister’s humiliation may have mingled themselves with superstitious
dread of incurring Divine wrath. He promised to respect the retreat of
Eutropius. But, on learning his decision, the troops which were in the
city became indignant and furious in their demands that the culprit
should be surrendered to justice. The Emperor made an address to them,
entreating them even with tears to remember that they had received
benefits as well as wrongs from the object of their present rage, and,
above all things, imploring them to respect the sanctity of the holy
table, to which the suppliant was clinging. By such words he restrained
them with difficulty from the commission of any immediate violence.[480]
The following day was Sunday; but the places of public amusement and
resort were deserted, and such a vast concourse of men and women
thronged the cathedral as was rarely seen except on Easter Day.[481]
All were in a flutter of expectation to hear what the “golden mouth”
would utter, the mouth of him who had dared, in defence of the Church’s
right, to defy the arm of the law, and to stem the tide of popular
feeling. But few perhaps were prepared to witness such a dramatic
scene as was actually presented, and which gave additional force and
effect to the words of the preacher. It was a common practice with
the Archbishop, on account partly of his diminutive stature and some
feebleness of voice, to preach from the “ambo,” or high reading-desk,
which stood a little westward of the chancel, and therefore brought him
into closer proximity with the people.[482] On the present occasion,
he had just taken his seat on the ambo, and a sea of upturned faces
was directed towards his thin pale countenance in expectation of the
stream of golden eloquence, when the curtain which separated the nave
from the chancel was partially drawn aside, and disclosed to the view
of the multitude the cowering form of the unhappy Eutropius, clinging
to one of the columns which supported the holy table. Many a time had
the Archbishop preached to light minds and unheeding ears on the vain
and fleeting character of worldly honour, prosperity, luxury, wealth;
now he would enforce attention, and drive his lesson home to the hearts
of a vast audience, by pointing to a visible example of fallen grandeur
in the poor unhappy creature who lay grovelling behind him. Presently
he burst forth: “‘ματαιότης ματαιοτήτων!—O vanity of vanities!’” words
how seasonable at all times, how pre-eminently seasonable now. “Where
now are the pomp and circumstance of yonder man’s consulship? where his
torch-light festivities? where the applause which once greeted him?
where his banquets and garlands? Where is the stir that once attended
his appearance in the streets, the flattering compliments addressed to
him in the amphitheatre? They are gone, they are all gone; one rude
blast has shattered all the leaves, and shows us the tree stripped
quite bare, and shaken to its very roots.”... “These things were but
as visions of the night, which fade at dawn; or vernal flowers, which
wither when the spring is past; as shadows which flitted away, as
bubbles which burst, as cobwebs which rent.”... “Therefore we chant
continuously this heavenly strain: ματαιότης ματαιοτήτων καὶ πάντα
ματαιότης. For these are words which should be inscribed on our walls
and on our garments, in the market-place, by the wayside, on our doors,
but above all should they be written in the conscience, and engraved
upon the mind of every one.” Then, turning towards the pitiable figure
by the holy table: “Did I not continually warn thee that wealth was a
runaway slave, a thankless servant? but thou wouldst not heed, thou
wouldst not be persuaded. Lo! now experience has proved to thee that it
is not only fugitive and thankless, but murderous also; for this it is
which has caused thee to tremble now with fear. Did not I declare, when
you rebuked me for telling you the truth, ‘I love thee better than thy
flatterers; I who reprove thee care for thee more than thy complaisant
friends?’ Did I not add that the wounds inflicted by a friend were to
be valued more than the kisses given by an enemy? If thou hadst endured
my wounds, the kisses of thy enemies would not have wrought thee this
destruction.”... “We act not like thy false friends, who have fled from
thee, and are procuring their own safety through thy distress; the
Church, which you treated as an enemy, has opened her bosom to receive
thee; the theatre, which you favoured, has betrayed thee, and whetted
the sword against thee.”[483] He thus depicted, he said, the abject
condition of the minister, not from any desire to insult the prostrate,
not to drown one who was tossed on the billows of misfortune; but to
warn those who were still sailing with a fair wind, lest they should
be hurried into the same abyss. Who had been more exalted than this
man? Had he not surpassed all in wealth? had he not climbed to the
very pinnacle of grandeur? yet now he had become more miserable than a
prisoner, more pitiable than a slave.... It was the glory of the Church
to have afforded shelter to an enemy; the suppliant was the ornament
of the altar. “What!” you say, “is this iniquitous, rapacious creature
an ornament to the altar?” Hush! the sinful woman was permitted to
touch the feet of Jesus Christ Himself, a permission which excites not
our reproach, but our admiration and praise.... The degradation of
Eutropius was a wholesome example both to the rich and poor. “Let some
rich man enter the church, and he will derive much advantage from what
he sees. The spectacle of one, lately at the pinnacle of power, now
crouching with fear like a hare or a frog, chained to yonder pillar not
by fetters, but by fright, will repress arrogance, and subdue pride,
and will teach him the truth of the Scripture precept: ‘All flesh is
grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass.’ On the other
hand, let a poor man enter, and he will learn not to be discontented,
or to deplore his lot; but will be grateful to his poverty, which is to
him as a most secure asylum, a most tranquil haven, a most impenetrable
fortress.”[484] The Archbishop concluded by exhorting the people to
mercy and forgiveness, following the example of their Emperor. How else
could they with a clear conscience join in the Holy Mysteries about to
be celebrated, or join in the prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses, as
we forgive them that trespass against us?” He did not deny that the
offender had committed great crimes, but the present was a season not
for judgment but for mercy. If they would enjoy the favour of God,
who had declared, “I will have mercy and not sacrifice,” they would
intercede with the Emperor for the life of their enemy. So would they
obtain the mercy of God for themselves, and remission of their own
sins; so would they shed glory on their Church, and win the praise of
their humane sovereign, while their own clemency would be extolled to
the ends of the earth.”
The people probably thought that sufficient mercy had already been
exercised by respecting the asylum of the Church as against the law,
and no further effort, so far as is known, was made on behalf of the
fallen minister. He remained for several days more in the sanctuary,
and then secretly and suddenly quitted it. Whether he fled designedly,
mistrusting the security of his retreat, perhaps even, with the
suspiciousness natural to a deceitful person, mistrusting the fidelity
of his protectors, and hoping to make his escape from Constantinople
in disguise; or whether he surrendered himself on the condition that
exile should be substituted for capital punishment, cannot with perfect
certainty be determined. It is implied by one writer[485] that he was
seized and forcibly removed from the sanctuary. Chrysostom, on the
other hand, declares that he would never have been given up, had he
not abandoned the Church.[486] However and wherever he may have been
captured, some promise appears to have been made that his life at least
should be spared. He was put on board a vessel which conveyed him to
Cyprus, that island being designed, it was said, to be the place of
his banishment for the remainder of his life.[487] But his enemies had
determined that his life should be brief. A suit was instituted against
him at Constantinople on a variety of charges under the presidency of
Aurelian, Prætorian Prefect. Over and above all his other crimes, he
was found guilty of mingling with the ordinary costume of the consul
certain ornaments or badges which belonged exclusively to the Emperors,
and even of harnessing to his chariot animals of the imperial colour
and breed. These were found to be treasonable offences, on the strength
of which, in spite of some misgivings and hesitation on the part of
Arcadius, which were overruled by Eudoxia and Gaïnas, the miserable
culprit was recalled from Cyprus to Chalcedon, and there beheaded.
As he entered that city, he might have seen affixed to the walls the
imperial sentence, by the terms of which his property was declared
confiscated to the State, his acts as consul were cancelled, the
title of the year was changed, the world invited to rejoice at the
purification of the consulship, and to cease to groan over the sight of
the monstrosity which had disgraced and disfigured the divine honour
of that sacred office. Finally, it was commanded that all statues or
representations whatever of Eutropius in public places should be thrown
down and broken in pieces.[488]
Thus the earnest desire of Eudoxia was accomplished: she remained
mistress of the field, mistress, as she fondly hoped, of the Empire.
The government for the present passed from the hands of a eunuch and
slave into the hands of a woman. The possible rivals to her supremacy
were the Gothic commander Gaïnas and the Archbishop. In what manner
she was brought into hostile collision with these two very different
personages remains now to be related. The Goth was determined in the
ambitious pursuit of power, the Archbishop equally determined in the
conscientious discharge of duty. The collision of the ruling powers
with him was yet to come, but the contest with Gaïnas immediately
succeeded the fall of Eutropius.
The Empress procured the elevation of Aurelian, Prætorian Prefect,
to the consulship, and of her favourite (some said her criminal
lover[489]), Count John, to the office of Comptroller of the Royal
Treasury, or sacred largesses. The public affairs of the Empire were
discussed and settled in a sort of cabinet council by her and her
friends, of whom three wealthy but avaricious ladies, Castricia,
Eugraphia, and Marcia, were the most influential. The haughty and
manly spirit of the Gothic warrior naturally disdained to be directed
by a coterie of women. He united his army with that of Tribigild,
and the two forces assumed a menacing attitude in the vicinity of
Constantinople, on the Asiatic side of the Bosporus. Gaïnas opened
negotiations with the Emperor, refusing to communicate with any lesser
power, complained that his services had been inadequately requited, and
demanded, as a preliminary to any further correspondence, the surrender
of three principal favourites at Court—Aurelian the Consul, Saturninus
the husband of Castricia, and the Count John. The embarrassment of the
Court was extreme; but the three ministers, in a genuine spirit, to all
appearance, of Roman courage and self-sacrifice for the good of the
State, crossed the Bosporus, and sent word to the camp of Gaïnas that
they had come to surrender themselves into his hands. The chieftain
subjected them to a grim practical jest. He caused them to be loaded
with chains, and received them in his tent in the presence of an
executioner. After all manner of insults had been heaped upon them, the
executioner approached and swung his sword over them with a furious
countenance as if on the point of decapitating, but, checking the
impending blow, only made a slight scratch on their necks so as just
to draw blood. This savage farce having been performed, the three were
simply detained in the camp without suffering further violence.[490]
Chrysostom appears to have laboured diligently to mitigate the demands
of Gaïnas. His language, in a homily delivered just after the surrender
of the three captives, implies that some degree of success had attended
his efforts, but it manifests also a feeling of great depression,
caused by the unsettled, indeed anarchical, state of public affairs.
“After a long interval of silence, I return to you, my beloved
disciples—a silence occasioned, not by any indifference or indolence,
but by my absence spent in earnest endeavours to allay a tempest,
and to bring into a haven those who were beginning to drown.”... “For
this purpose I have withdrawn from you for a time, going backwards and
forwards” [across the Bosporus], “exhorting, beseeching, supplicating,
so as to avert the calamity which was impending over the higher
powers. But now that these dismal matters have been concluded I
return to you....” He had gone to rescue those who were falling and
tempest-tossed; he came back to confirm those who were still standing
and at rest, lest they should become victims of some calamity. “For
there is nothing secure, nothing stable in human affairs; they are
like a raging sea, every day producing strange and fearful shipwrecks.
The world is full of tumult and confusion; everywhere are cliffs and
precipices, rocks and reefs, fearfulness and trembling, peril and
suspicion. No one trusts any one; each man is afraid of his neighbour.
The time is at hand which the prophet depicted in those words: ‘Trust
not in a friend, put not confidence in a guide’ (Micah vii. 5); civil
strife prevails everywhere, not honest open warfare, but veiled under
ten thousand masks. Many are the fleeces beneath which are concealed
innumerable wolves; so that one might live more safely among enemies
than among those who appear to be friends.”[491]
It is possible that the intercessions of Chrysostom may have saved
the lives of the three captives, or averted any immediate assault of
the Gothic army; but Gaïnas was in a position to dictate any terms
he pleased, and his army was like a great swelling wave, threatening
at any moment to break in overwhelming force upon the capital. An
interview with the Emperor, protected from any insidious attack by the
solemn oath of each party, took place in the church of St. Euphemia,
situated on a lofty eminence above the city of Chalcedon. The Gothic
leader no longer pretended to disguise his ambitious designs. He
demanded to be made Consul and Commander-in-chief of the Imperial
army, cavalry and infantry, Roman as well as barbarian troops; in
short, he aspired to be in position the Stilicho of the East. The
Emperor yielded to these ignominious terms, which in effect placed his
capital at the mercy of a foreign invader. The troops were rapidly
transported from the Asiatic side of the Bosporus and occupied
Constantinople. They waited but the word of their commander to fly
upon the booty with which the wealthy and luxurious city teemed, and
which they beheld with hungry eyes; but for a time the signal was not
given.[492]
Gaïnas, either from sincere attachment to the Arian form of faith, or
possibly from ambition to display his power to his countrymen, who
were mainly of the Arian persuasion, demanded the abolition of that
law of Theodosius by which Arians were prohibited from public worship
inside the city walls. He represented that it was specially indecorous
for the Commander-in-chief of the Imperial forces to go outside the
city to pay his public devotions. Arcadius, intimidated, and as usual
on the point of yielding, referred the matter to the Archbishop.
Chrysostom earnestly and indignantly deprecated any concession; to
give up one of the Catholic churches to the Arians would be to cast
things holy to the dogs, and to reward the impious at the expense of
the reverent worshippers of Jesus Christ. He begged the Emperor to
allow the whole matter to be discussed between himself and Gaïnas
in the royal presence, when he trusted that, by the help of God, he
should succeed in silencing the Gothic heretic, and in repressing any
repetition of his profane demand.[493] Gaïnas was not averse from the
interview; he rather prided himself on his skill in theological debate,
and boasted of having vanquished the monk Nilus on the question of the
identity, or similarity, of substance in the first two Persons of
the Holy Trinity.[494] The Emperor was well satisfied to act the part
of a quiet, irresponsible auditor. Accordingly, on the following day,
Chrysostom appeared at the palace, accompanied by all those bishops who
were in Constantinople at the time. Gaïnas put forward his demand. The
Archbishop replied that it was impossible for a prince who laid claim
to piety to take any step adverse to the interests of the Catholic
faith. If Gaïnas wished to worship inside the walls, all the churches
in the city were open to him. When the Goth claimed a right to possess
one for his own sect, in consideration of his great services to the
State, Chrysostom repelled the demand with indignant scorn. “You have
already rewards far exceeding your deserts; you are Commander-in-chief
and Consul. Consider what once you were, and what now you are; consider
your former destitution and your present abundance. Look at the
magnificence of your consular robes, and remember the rags in which
you crossed the Danube. Speak not then of ingratitude on the part of
those who have laden you with honours. Remember the oaths by which you
swore fidelity to the great Theodosius and to his children.” He then
cited the prohibitory law issued by Theodosius in A.D. 381, called
upon the Emperor to enforce it, and on the Gothic commander to observe
it. The ecclesiastical historians concur in affirming that the Goth
was completely vanquished by the authoritative demeanour and eloquence
of the Archbishop, and for the time at least desisted from pressing
his demand; but it appears that Arcadius was obliged to satisfy his
rapacity by melting the plate of the Apostles’ Church.[495]
Possibly, indeed, extortion of money had been the object of Gaïnas
from the beginning in making his demand for an Arian church. The
plunder-loving spirit of his army was aroused, and the gold and
silver visible on the counters of money-changers, and in the shops
of wealthy jewellers, was a temptation constantly dangling before
their eyes, till a rumour of violent intentions, or perhaps common
prudence, caused the owners to remove these alluring treasures into
secret places of safety. If the enemy had entertained any design upon
the shops, it was transferred from them to the palace, upon which they
made a nocturnal assault. According to some accounts, it was repulsed
by the vigorous courage of the citizens, who fell with arms upon the
assailants; according to others, Gaïnas was scared in several attempts
by a vision of an angelic host planted in bright array around the walls
of the palace.[496] The materials for the history of these occurrences
are so meagre that it is impossible to ascertain details, but, from
whatever cause, Gaïnas resolved to escape from the city. Fearing that
if he attempted to quit it openly with his troops, he might be forcibly
stopped or impeded in his departure, he pretended to be under the
influence of a demon and that he desired to offer up prayers for relief
from his affliction at the martyry of St. John at Hebdomon, seven miles
outside Constantinople.
As he was going out, however, by one of the gates on this pretext,
the guards stationed at the gate perceived that his followers were
taking with them a quantity of arms which they endeavoured to conceal.
The guards refused to let them pass; a fray ensued in which the
guards were killed. The inhabitants were seized with mingled rage
and terror. Gaïnas was declared by royal decree a public enemy. He
himself was outside the walls, and the city gates were now all closed
to cut him off and such forces as were with him from those who were
left inside Constantinople. A large number of these assembled in
and around the church of the Goths. Here they were attacked by the
infuriated populace, which set fire to the building. The Goths perished
wholesale in the flames or by the sword. Gaïnas, with the remainder
of his followers, betook himself to a life of plunder in the Thracian
Chersonese. But he found the inhabitants generally prepared to offer
a stout resistance to his pillaging bands, which were soon reduced
to great straits for subsistence. Meanwhile, a countryman of his in
Constantinople was organising measures for his destruction. Fravitta
was one of those Goths who had become assimilated to the people among
whom they lived. He had married a Roman lady, and was eminent alike
for refinement of manners, for valour in arms, and for honest fidelity
to the government which he served.[497] He offered to lead out such
forces as could be placed at his disposal, pledged himself to clear
the Chersonese of the rebels, and drive them, if necessary, beyond the
Danube. The offer was accepted with joy, and Fravitta defeated the
enemy in several engagements. Gaïnas attempted to cross the Hellespont,
and throw his troops again into the fertile regions of Asia Minor;
but his flimsy fleet of hastily-constructed rafts, being attacked
by a well-managed body of galleys in the middle of the passage, was
dispersed or broken in pieces, and a large part of his army was
drowned. Gaïnas then determined, with the remnant of his followers, to
beat a hasty retreat in the direction of the Danube, where he hoped to
be joined by some of his own countrymen, and renew the offensive. The
accounts of his march are not quite harmonious, and somewhat obscure.
According to Zosimus,[498] he was hotly pursued by Fravitta from place
to place, across the range of Hæmus up to the shores of the Danube,
into the waters of which he plunged on horseback, and with a scanty
band of followers gained the opposite bank, intending thence to make
his way to the settlements of his forefathers on the banks of the
Pruth or Borysthenes. But his design was frustrated by an unexpected
enemy. The Huns occupied at that time the region immediately north of
the Danube, and their king, Uldes or Uldin, was disposed to enter into
friendly relations with the Roman Empire. He took up the pursuit which
Fravitta had abandoned at the river frontier, chased the unhappy Goth
like a wild beast from one hiding-place to another, till at last the
prey was caught and killed. His head was carried on the point of a
lance to Constantinople, as a visible pledge of the good-will of the
Hunnish chief. Sozomen and Socrates,[499] on the other hand, represent
him to have been overtaken, routed, and slain by Roman troops in
Thrace.[500]
Theodoret has a vague story of his own, that when Gaïnas was ravaging
Thrace, neither warrior nor ambassador could be found courageous enough
to encounter him but Chrysostom, who, yielding to the public appeal,
set forth to intercede, and was most respectfully received by the
barbarian, who placed the right hand of the Archbishop on his own eyes,
and brought his children to his knees—it may be presumed, to receive
his blessing. Theodoret does not venture to affirm that the mission
availed to induce the Goth to lay down his arms, and the whole story
has an unreal and romantic character.[501]
Three aspirants to the absolute control of the Eastern Empire, widely
different in race, character, and original condition of life—Rufinus,
Eutropius, Gaïnas—had alike perished by a violent death. Fravitta was
made consul, but he was too loyal or too unambitious to go beyond the
line of his legitimate power. Eudoxia now stood without a rival in
the management of the Emperor and the kingdom. Her influence over her
husband was enhanced by the birth of a prince, who afterwards mounted
the throne as Theodosius II.; and thus the final obstacle was removed
to her being solemnly proclaimed Empress under the venerable title of
Augusta.