AN IMAGE OF EUDOXIA PLACED IN FRONT OF THE
CATHEDRAL—CHRYSOSTOM DENOUNCES IT—ANGER OF THE
EMPRESS—THE ENEMY RETURNS TO THE CHARGE—ANOTHER COUNCIL
FORMED—CHRYSOSTOM CONFINED TO HIS PALACE—VIOLENT SCENE IN
THE CATHEDRAL AND OTHER PLACES—CHRYSOSTOM AGAIN EXPELLED.
A.D. 403, 404.
The storm had passed over for the moment, and the atmosphere seemed
serene: but in reality it was charged with all the old elements
of disturbance. The Archbishop owed his restoration to a mere
superstitious impulse on the part of the Empress, seconded by the
enthusiastic devotion of the common people to his person and his cause.
But as the revulsion of feeling which had led to his recall died away,
and he himself resumed with unabated zeal his former work of moral and
ecclesiastical reformation, the irritation and animosity of the more
corrupt portion of the clergy and laity revived. In two months after
his return an occasion arose which brought him into serious collision
with the Court. This was the signal for the reappearance of his
enemies; they flocked from far and near—Egypt, Syria, Asia, as well as
his own more immediate diocese—and swooped down upon their prey with
the avidity of vultures.
The pride and ambition of Eudoxia were not satisfied by the enjoyment
of a power really greater than her husband’s, and of respect outwardly
equal; she was determined to receive that half-idolatrous kind of
homage which custom, handed down from Pagan times, still paid to
the Emperor, but to him alone. The smaller forum of Constantinople
was a great square,[585] on one side of which stood the grand curia
or senate-house, which Constantine had enriched with the sumptuous
spoils of many Pagan temples, and especially with the statues of
the Muses brought from the grove of Helicon; opposite to it was the
entrance of St. Sophia, and the remaining sides of the forum were
bounded by handsome public and a few private buildings all faced with
colonnades. In the centre was a stone platform paved with various
marbles, from which speeches were delivered on great public occasions.
On this platform the Empress determined to gratify her vanity by the
erection of a lofty column of porphyry surmounted by a silvern image of
herself. This design was accomplished in September a.d. 403, and the
erection of the statue was celebrated by all the Pagan ceremonies and
festivities, including music and dancing, with which the adoration of
the Emperor’s image was usually attended. These rites had been retained
by the Christian Emperors because they were supposed to be useful in
maintaining a loyal spirit among the people, but the Pagan elements
were afterwards suppressed by Theodosius II.[586]
The position of Eudoxia’s column in front of the vestibule of St.
Sophia, and the disturbance caused to the sacred services within
by the noisy, tumultuous proceedings outside, were regarded by the
Patriarch as a disgrace to an Empress calling herself Christian, an
outrage and insult flung in the very face of the Church. He denounced
the heathenish ceremony with his usual vehemence before the people,
and complained of it to the prefect of the city. The prefect was a
Manichæan, and no friend to Chrysostom. Instead of endeavouring to
conciliate both parties, he reported to the Empress, probably with
some exaggeration, the condemnation pronounced by the Patriarch on
the indulgence of her pride. The resentment of Eudoxia was fierce.
She rallied the enemies of Chrysostom around her to devise means for
crushing the audacious prelate. Acacius, Severian, and others of the
old troop were soon upon the scene, and conferring with their old
confederates, the Marsas and Castriccias, the rich worldly dames, and
the dandy young clergy of Constantinople. There was no diminution
meanwhile in the tide of invective poured forth from the golden mouth,
and the pungency of his sarcasms did not lose force in the reports of
them which were carried to the royal ears.[587]
Once more the faction applied to the Patriarch of Alexandria,
inviting him to come and conduct their operations. But he was too
wary to involve himself personally in another campaign, to terminate
perhaps in a second ignominious flight. His influence, however, even
at a distance, was potent. The stratagem adopted this time was to
counterfeit that General Council which had been constantly demanded
by Chrysostom; packing it with hostile bishops who were ostensibly
convened to revise, but in reality to confirm, the decision issued
by the Synod of the Oak. Theophilus, then, having excused attendance
at Constantinople in person, sent three “pitiful bishops” (ἐλεείνους
ἐπισκόπους), creatures of his own on whom he could rely, to execute
his designs.[588] They were armed with the 12th Canon of the Council
of Antioch held in A.D. 341, which declared that any bishop who, after
deposition, appealed to the secular power for restoration, should,
for that very act, be regarded by the Church as permanently and
irrevocably deposed. The Council of Antioch had been swayed by Arian
influence, and this same canon had been aimed against Athanasius, who
had returned from exile to Alexandria under the Imperial sanction. It
had been repudiated by the Western bishops, and some of the Eastern,
at the Council of Sardica, and indeed by all who maintained communion
with Athanasius. Theophilus, however, proposed to base the present
proceedings against Chrysostom on this foundation; to turn, in fact,
against the greatest luminary of Constantinople the engine which had
been originally constructed against the greatest ornament of the
Alexandrian see. The instrument would work well if proper hands could
be procured to work it. Syria, Cappadocia, Pontus, Phrygia, were once
more ransacked to supply the council with disaffected prelates. To
the old names of Acacius of Berœa, Severian of Gabala, Antiochus and
Cyrinus, may be added, as leaders of the malignants, Leontius, bishop
of Ancyra in Galatia, Brison of Philippopolis in Thrace, Ammon of
Laodicea in Pisidia; among those honourably distinguished as friendly
to the Patriarch were Theodore of Tyana, Elpidius of Laodicea,
Tranquillus (see unknown), and Alexander of Basilinopolis in Bithynia.
Theodore, however, perceiving the malevolent intention with which the
council was convoked, quitted Constantinople soon after his arrival.
The council met about the close of the year A.D. 403. It was customary
for the Emperor to attend Divine service in state on Christmas Day, but
he was induced by the enemies of Chrysostom to refuse on this occasion,
alleging that it was impossible to be present where the Patriarch
officiated till he had been cleared of the serious charges brought
against him. It was proposed at first to affect to meet the demand of
Chrysostom for an equitable trial, and to hear all the charges which
had been preferred at the Synod of the Oak. But, the witnesses were so
backward to appear, and the attitude of the defendant betokened such
confidence in his cause, that it was deemed more prudent by his enemies
to stake the whole issue on the canon of the Council of Antioch. If
that was once admitted, there would be an end of the whole matter.
The Archbishop, having been deposed already once for all, was not
competent to appear and plead his cause before a council. Chrysostom
and his friends opposed the adoption of such a course with two powerful
arguments. They represented that the Council of Antioch had been
managed by an Arian bishop and influenced by an Arian emperor, and
the object of it had been to harass the great Athanasius. In the next
place, the Synod of the Oak had been illegally constituted; sixty-five
bishops had repudiated its decision; Chrysostom, therefore, was not
legally deposed, and the canon of Antioch was in consequence not
applicable to his case. This last objection was not permitted by his
enemies. Leontius boldly declared, what appears to have been a palpable
lie, that a larger number of bishops than sixty-five had voted against
Chrysostom in the Synod.[589]
Thus the question as to the validity of the Council of Antioch became
the knot of the whole affair. It was debated with such vehemence on
both sides, that at length the adversaries of the Patriarch proposed
that a deputation from the two contending parties should plead the
case before the Emperor, and submit the decision to him. It may be
presumed from their making the proposal that they felt secure of a
verdict favourable to their side, and, at the same time, by this step
a semblance of impartiality would be imparted to the proceedings. The
deputies met in the royal presence. When the heat which marked the
beginning of the discussion had cooled down a little, Elpidius of
Laodicea with much gentleness of manner made an astute proposal. He
was an old man, eminent for stainlessness of character, as well as for
learning in ecclesiastical lore. “Let us not,” he said, “weary the
clemency of your Majesty any longer; only let our brethren, Acacius
and Antiochus, subscribe a declaration that they are of the same faith
with those who promulgated these canons, which they maintain to be the
production of orthodox men, and the controversy will be at an end.” The
Emperor perceived the adroitness of the proposal, and observed with
a smile to Antiochus, that the plan struck him as the most expedient
which could be devised. Antiochus and his colleagues turned livid with
perplexity and rage, but, being fairly caught in the dilemma, were
forced to dissemble their feelings, and simulated a willing consent
to sign the proposed declaration. The promise was made, but never
executed. The deputies retired, and the adversaries of the Patriarch
laboured with redoubled energy to procure his final condemnation; but
we have no record of any formal session or formally declared sentence.
Chrysostom continued to preach and discharge his other functions with,
if possible, increased diligence, and still acted as president over the
floating synod of more than forty bishops who constantly adhered to
his cause. His enemies, on the other hand, acted as if the sentence of
condemnation had been passed, and continually requested the Emperor to
put it into execution.[590]
A.D. 404. As Easter approached, they became more importunate in
their demand. They dreaded the demonstrations which might be made
in favour of their victim by the large congregations which on Holy
Saturday and Easter Day were wont to assemble in the churches. They
succeeded in prevailing on the Emperor to prohibit the Patriarch, as
having been deposed and excommunicated by two councils, from entering
or officiating in the church at Easter-tide. Chrysostom had always
expressed an earnest desire to be tried before a lawful council, and
to abide by its decision. This request had been systematically evaded
even when ostensibly complied with. His whole soul rebelled with
honest indignation against these insidious and persistent attempts
to misrepresent his conduct, and he determined now to resist them by
taking his stand on the lofty ground of his Divine mission. “I received
this church from God my Saviour, and am charged with the care of the
salvation of this flock, nor am I at liberty to abandon it. Expel me by
force if you will, since the city belongs to you, that I may have your
authority as an excuse for deserting my post.”[591]
The Emperor, though with some shame, sent officials who removed the
Archbishop from the church to his palace, with a strict injunction that
he should not attempt to leave it. This was a cautious preliminary to
final expulsion, suggested by superstitious dread of any earthquake
or other manifestation of Divine displeasure. Should any such occur
again, the Archbishop could be released in a moment; if not, they might
proceed to further measures.
Easter Eve arrived, the greatest day in the year for the baptism of
converts. Three thousand were to be “initiated” this year. Chrysostom
was again commanded to abstain from entering the church, but answered
according to the tenor of his former reply, that he would not desist
from officiating unless compelled by actual force. The feeble Arcadius
was alarmed, and hesitated how to act. He scrupled to use force on so
sacred a day, and dreaded an insurrection of the populace. As usual,
he tried to shift responsibility from his own shoulders. He sent for
Acacius and Antiochus, and requested their advice in the present
emergency. They were too far committed now to draw back, and promptly
replied that they would take on their heads the deposition of the
Archbishop.
One more effort was made to avert the impending calamity. The forty
bishops who maintained a close friendship with Chrysostom accosted the
Emperor and Empress as they were visiting, according to their custom
at this season, some of the martyr chapels outside the city. They
entreated their majesties with tears to spare the Church her chief
pastor, especially on account of the season, and for the sake of those
who were about to be baptized. But Arcadius and Eudoxia turned a deaf
ear to their piteous appeal. The bishops retired, grief-stricken, to
mourn over the wrongs of their Church and Patriarch; but not before
one of them, Paul, bishop of Crateia, had lifted up his voice in bold
and solemn warning:—“Take heed, Eudoxia; fear God; have pity on your
children. Do not outrage by bloodshed the sacred and solemn festival of
Jesus Christ.”[592]
The church of St. Sophia became the scene, on the night of that
Easter Eve, of shocking tumult. A vast congregation from the city and
surrounding towns, including many of the catechumens, was keeping vigil
to greet the dawn of the Resurrection morning. Suddenly a body of
soldiers burst in with noise and violence, and took possession of the
choir. The confusion may be imagined. Women and children fled shrieking
in wild disorder. Many of the female catechumens, only half-dressed, in
preparation for the reception of baptism, were hurriedly driven out of
the baptistry with the deaconesses who attended them. Some were even
wounded, and the sacred fonts stained with blood. Some of the soldiers,
unbaptized men, penetrated even to the chamber where the Eucharistic
elements were kept, and profaned them with their gaze and touch. The
clergy were forcibly ejected in their vestments, and several were
wounded. The pitiable spectacle of the mingled troop of men, women,
children, and clergy, violently chased along the streets by the brutal
soldiery, moved even Jews and Gentiles to compassion. The clergy,
however, rallied the scattered flock in the Baths of Constantine, the
largest public baths in the city. Here they proceeded with the Easter
services in due order; some reading the Scriptures, others baptizing.
The churches of Constantinople were deserted, which the adversary
wished to force the people to attend in the absence of the Archbishop,
in the hope that the Court might thus suppose him to be unpopular.
Such is the description of these violent scenes as drawn by the
pen of Chrysostom himself, in a letter[593] written soon after the
occurrences, and addressed to Innocent I., bishop of Rome, Venerius,
bishop of Milan, and Chromatius, bishop of Aquileia. “You may imagine
the rest,” he concludes; “great as these calamities are, there is no
prospect of their immediate termination; on the contrary, the evil
extends every day. The spirit of insubordination is rapidly spreading
from the capital to the provinces, from the head to the members. Clergy
rebel against their bishop, and one bishop assails another. People
are, or soon will be, split into factions. All places are racked by
the throes of coming trouble, and the confusion is universal. Having
been informed of all these things, then, my most reverend and prudent
lords, display, I pray you, the courage and zeal which becomes you
in restraining this lawlessness which has crept into the churches.
For if it were to become a prevailing and allowable custom, for any
at their pleasure to pass into foreign and distant dioceses, and to
expel whomsoever any one may choose, and act as they like on their own
private authority, be sure that all discipline will go to pieces, and
a kind of implacable warfare will pervade the world, all expelling
or being themselves expelled. Wherefore, to prevent the subjection
of the world to such confusion, I beseech you to enjoin that these
acts so illegally performed in my absence, when I had not declined
fair judgment, may be reckoned invalid, as indeed in the nature of
things they are, and that those who have been detected taking part
in these iniquitous proceedings may be subjected to the penalty of
ecclesiastical law; while we who have not been proved guilty may
continue to enjoy your correspondence and friendship as aforetime.” He
closes his letter by affirming that he was still prepared to prove his
innocence and the guilt of his accusers before a legally constituted
council.
This letter is interesting not only in itself, but because it
illustrates remarkably the growing tendency of Christendom to appeal
to the arbitration of the Western Church, and especially of the Bishop
of Rome, in matters of ecclesiastical discipline. The law-making,
law-protecting spirit of the West is invoked to restrain the turbulence
and licentiousness of the East. The Patriarch of the Eastern Rome
appeals to the great bishops of the West, as the champions of an
ecclesiastical discipline which he confesses himself unable to enforce,
or to see any prospect of establishing. No jealousy is entertained
of the Patriarch of the old Rome by the Patriarch of the new. The
interference of Innocent is courted, a certain primacy is accorded
him, but at the same time he is not addressed as a supreme arbitrator;
assistance and sympathy are solicited from him as from an elder
brother, and two other prelates of Italy are joint recipients with him
of the appeal. The effect of this letter will shortly be related; for
the present, the course of events at Constantinople must be followed.
It did not suit the purpose of Acacius and his party to allow the
congregation which had been hunted out of St. Sophia to proceed with
their service in the baths unmolested. If the Emperor entered the
church in the morning and found it deserted, the vacancy on so great
a day would reveal too plainly the intense devotion of the people to
their bishop. The aim of the conspirators was to force the people
to attend the services, which were to be marked by the absence of
Chrysostom alone. They accordingly applied to Anthemius, Master of
the Offices, to disperse the congregation, if necessary by force.
Anthemius, however, was a moderate, prudent man, and kindly disposed
towards the Patriarch. He refused to interfere, pleading the advanced
hour of the night, the vastness of the assembly, and the risk of
serious tumult. He yielded, however, to their persevering and urgent
demands so far as to direct Lucius, a subordinate officer, commander
of a Thracian corps called the Scutarii, to present himself with his
troops at the entrance of the baths, and exhort the people to return
to the church, as the more proper place for conducting the services.
He was strictly charged to abstain from violence. He acted on his
instructions, and harangued the congregation, but without effect. The
chanting of the Psalms and the administration of baptism to crowds
of catechumens were proceeded with. Lucius returned and reported his
errand ineffectual. Acacius and his colleagues urged him with all their
eloquence, and with promises of rich reward, probably more effective
than their golden words, to make another effort, and to use force if
persuasion were not regarded. They gave him some ecclesiastics to
accompany him and, as it were, sanction their proceedings. Whether they
began by exhortation is not recorded; at any rate, if it was given,
no attention was paid to it, and it was quickly seconded by barbarian
violence. Lucius himself pushed his way to the place of baptism, and
laid about him with a truncheon upon candidates, deacons, and priests,
some of them aged men, and dispersed them in all directions. The
soldiers seized and plundered the women of their ornaments, the clergy
of their vestments, and the sacred vessels belonging to the Church;
they beat the fugitives and dragged them off to the prisons. The
natural solitude and silence of the streets, in the hour immediately
preceding dawn, were disturbed by the cries of the captives and the
shouts of their brutal captors.
In the morning the street walls were covered with proclamations,
menacing with severe punishment any who persisted in maintaining
intercourse with the Patriarch.[594]
The baths were effectually emptied of the congregation; but to fill
the churches could not so easily be accomplished; in fact, they
were entirely deserted. Large numbers of the dispersed congregation
who had escaped the hands of the soldiers fled outside the walls of
Constantinople, and, with indefatigable zeal, sought to complete the
celebration of the Paschal rites as best they could in the secure
recesses of woods or valleys. A large number assembled in a field
called Pempton, because five miles from the Forum of Constantine, an
open space surrounded by wood and intended to be used as a Hippodrome.
In the course of the day—Easter Day—the Emperor and his retinue
happened to ride, or perhaps were maliciously conducted, near the
spot. The eye of Arcadius was attracted by the sight of a large body
of people, many of them clothed in white, crowded together outside the
Hippodrome. Unhappily, the Emperor was attended by courtiers inimical
to the Archbishop. They replied to his inquiries respecting the nature
of the concourse, that it was a body of heretics who had met to worship
there in order to escape interference. Arcadius was weak enough to
allow, without further inquiry, a number of soldiers who formed part of
his escort to ride in upon the assembly and seize the most conspicuous
leaders. A number of priests were captured, and several rich and noble
ladies, whom the soldiers despoiled of their head-dresses and earrings
with great barbarity, in one instance even tearing away with the
appendage a portion of the ear itself.
One more attempt was made to assemble in a wooden hippodrome, built
by Constantine, called the Xulodrome; but once more they were driven
out, and hunted from place to place with relentless diligence. These
repeated assaults broke up the flock of Chrysostom; the prisons were
filled with the Johnites, as they were called after the name of their
bishop, and the churches were empty. The prison walls echoed to the
sound of the chants and hymns of the martyrs, but the churches to the
noise of scourge and fierce threats administered to those who ventured
to enter. This was done in the hope that they might be coerced by
torture to anathematise the Archbishop.[595]
He himself, however, meanwhile continued to reside two months in his
palace, though not without risk. Twice, as it was believed, attempts
were made to assassinate him, but frustrated. Suspicion fell first
on a man who affected demoniacal possession, and hovered much about
the precincts of the palace. A dagger was found upon his person; the
people seized him and dragged him before the prefect; but Chrysostom
procured his release through the intercession of some bishops, just as
he was about to be examined by torture. A second attempt was supposed
to be intended by a slave, who ran at full speed towards the entrance
of the palace, and plunged a dagger, in some instances with fatal
effect, into several passers-by who endeavoured to stop him. He was
at last surrounded and captured by the people, when he confessed that
he had been bribed by his master, a priest named Elpidius, to try and
assassinate the Archbishop. The fury of the people was appeased by the
imprisonment of the man; but they now resolved to take the protection
of their Archbishop into their own hands. They divided themselves into
companies, which kept watch by turns, night and day, over the episcopal
palace. The hostile party, dreading any further impediments to the
execution of their iniquitous sentence, now hurried matters to their
conclusion. Five days after Pentecost, four bishops—Acacius, Antiochus,
Severian, and Cyrinus—obtained an interview with the Emperor. They
represented that the city never would be tranquil till the removal
of the Archbishop had been effected, and that his remaining in the
palace after his condemnation was a gross violation of ecclesiastical
law. They avowed themselves willing to take the responsibility of his
deposition on their own heads, and besought the Emperor not to be more
lenient and concessive than were bishops and priests.[596]
June, A.D. 404. The long-hoped-for mandate was at length issued. It was
conveyed to the Archbishop by the notary Patricius, and informed him
that Acacius and three other bishops having charged themselves with
the responsibility of his deposition, he must commend himself to God,
and quit the church and the palace without delay. The martyr received
the cruel order with meek submission, and prepared to act upon it with
prompt obedience. He passed from his palace to his church, saying to
the bishops who accompanied him, “Come, let us pray and say farewell to
the Angel of the Church. At my own fate I can rejoice, I only grieve
for the sorrow of the people.” One of his friends, a nobleman, conveyed
a warning to him to avoid by a secret departure the risk of exciting
popular tumult. He informed him that Lucius was waiting with troops in
one of the public baths to compel his removal in the event of any delay
or resistance, and that the consequences of any attempt at a rescue by
the populace might be serious.
Chrysostom acted on his advice. He entered the choir with his friendly
bishops, bestowed on them a farewell kiss and farewell words; then
bidding them wait for him there while he went to repose, he entered the
baptistry, and sent for the deaconesses, Olympias, Pentadia, Procla,
and Salvina. “Come hither, my daughters,” he said, “and hearken to me:
my career, I perceive, is coming to an end; I have finished my course,
and perchance ye will see my face no more. Now I exhort you to this:
let not any of you break off her accustomed benevolence towards the
Church. If any man is appointed my successor without having canvassed
the office, and against his own will, but by the common consent of all,
submit to his authority as if he were Chrysostom himself; so may ye
obtain mercy. Remember me in your prayers.” The women threw themselves
at his feet dissolved in tears. The Archbishop made a sign to one of
the priests to remove the women, lest, as he said, their wailing should
attract the attention of the people outside. He directed that the mule
on which he was accustomed to ride should be saddled and taken to the
western gate of the cathedral; and while the people’s attention was
diverted by this feint, he passed out, unobserved, by a small door near
the east end, and surrendered himself to some soldiers who were at hand
to convey him to the port. So he departed from the church, the scene of
his indefatigable labours, whose walls were never again to resound to
his eloquence. He went out, and, in the emphatic words of the historian
to whose narrative we are indebted for the minute picture of these
occurrences, “the Angel of the Church went out with him.” Two bishops,
Cyriacus of Synnada in Phrygia, and Eulysius of Apamea in Bithynia,
accompanied him on board the vessel which conveyed him across the
straits to the Bithynian coast.[597]