Constantine.--Part VI.
Although the policy of Diocletian and the humanity of Constantius
inclined them to preserve inviolate the maxims of toleration, it was
soon discovered that their two associates, Maximian and Galerius,
entertained the most implacable aversion for the name and religion of
the Christians. The minds of those princes had never been enlightened
by science; education had never softened their temper. They owed their
greatness to their swords, and in their most elevated fortune they still
retained their superstitious prejudices of soldiers and peasants. In the
general administration of the provinces they obeyed the laws which
their benefactor had established; but they frequently found occasions of
exercising within their camp and palaces a secret persecution, for which
the imprudent zeal of the Christians sometimes offered the most specious
pretences. A sentence of death was executed upon Maximilianus, an
African youth, who had been produced by his own father *before the
magistrate as a sufficient and legal recruit, but who obstinately
persisted in declaring, that his conscience would not permit him to
embrace the profession of a soldier. It could scarcely be expected that
any government should suffer the action of Marcellus the Centurion to
pass with impunity. On the day of a public festival, that officer threw
away his belt, his arms, and the ensigns of his office, and exclaimed
with a loud voice, that he would obey none but Jesus Christ the eternal
King, and that he renounced forever the use of carnal weapons, and the
service of an idolatrous master. The soldiers, as soon as they recovered
from their astonishment, secured the person of Marcellus. He was
examined in the city of Tingi by the president of that part of
Mauritania; and as he was convicted by his own confession, he was
condemned and beheaded for the crime of desertion. Examples of such a
nature savor much less of religious persecution than of martial or even
civil law; but they served to alienate the mind of the emperors, to
justify the severity of Galerius, who dismissed a great number of
Christian officers from their employments; and to authorize the opinion,
that a sect of enthusiastics, which avowed principles so repugnant to
the public safety, must either remain useless, or would soon become
dangerous, subjects of the empire.
After the success of the Persian war had raised the hopes and the
reputation of Galerius, he passed a winter with Diocletian in the palace
of Nicomedia; and the fate of Christianity became the object of their
secret consultations. The experienced emperor was still inclined to
pursue measures of lenity; and though he readily consented to exclude
the Christians from holding any employments in the household or the
army, he urged in the strongest terms the danger as well as cruelty
of shedding the blood of those deluded fanatics. Galerius at length
extorted from him the permission of summoning a council, composed of a
few persons the most distinguished in the civil and military departments
of the state. The important question was agitated in their presence,
and those ambitious courtiers easily discerned, that it was incumbent
on them to second, by their eloquence, the importunate violence of the
CÊsar. It may be presumed, that they insisted on every topic which might
interest the pride, the piety, or the fears, of their sovereign in the
destruction of Christianity. Perhaps they represented, that the glorious
work of the deliverance of the empire was left imperfect, as long as an
independent people was permitted to subsist and multiply in the heart
of the provinces. The Christians, (it might specially be alleged,)
renouncing the gods and the institutions of Rome, had constituted a
distinct republic, which might yet be suppressed before it had acquired
any military force; but which was already governed by its own laws and
magistrates, was possessed of a public treasure, and was intimately
connected in all its parts by the frequent assemblies of the bishops,
to whose decrees their numerous and opulent congregations yielded an
implicit obedience. Arguments like these may seem to have determined the
reluctant mind of Diocletian to embrace a new system of persecution;
but though we may suspect, it is not in our power to relate, the secret
intrigues of the palace, the private views and resentments, the jealousy
of women or eunuchs, and all those trifling but decisive causes which
so often influence the fate of empires, and the councils of the wisest
monarchs.
The pleasure of the emperors was at length signified to the Christians,
who, during the course of this melancholy winter, had expected, with
anxiety, the result of so many secret consultations. The twenty-third of
February, which coincided with the Roman festival of the Terminalia,
was appointed (whether from accident or design) to set bounds to the
progress of Christianity. At the earliest dawn of day, the PrÊtorian
prÊfect, accompanied by several generals, tribunes, and officers of
the revenue, repaired to the principal church of Nicomedia, which was
situated on an eminence in the most populous and beautiful part of
the city. The doors were instantly broke open; they rushed into the
sanctuary; and as they searched in vain for some visible object of
worship, they were obliged to content themselves with committing to the
flames the volumes of the holy Scripture. The ministers of Diocletian
were followed by a numerous body of guards and pioneers, who marched in
order of battle, and were provided with all the instruments used in
the destruction of fortified cities. By their incessant labor, a sacred
edifice, which towered above the Imperial palace, and had long excited
the indignation and envy of the Gentiles, was in a few hours levelled
with the ground.
The next day the general edict of persecution was published; and though
Diocletian, still averse to the effusion of blood, had moderated
the fury of Galerius, who proposed, that every one refusing to offer
sacrifice should immediately be burnt alive, the penalties inflicted on
the obstinacy of the Christians might be deemed sufficiently rigorous
and effectual. It was enacted, that their churches, in all the provinces
of the empire, should be demolished to their foundations; and the
punishment of death was denounced against all who should presume to
hold any secret assemblies for the purpose of religious worship. The
philosophers, who now assumed the unworthy office of directing the blind
zeal of persecution, had diligently studied the nature and genius of the
Christian religion; and as they were not ignorant that the speculative
doctrines of the faith were supposed to be contained in the writings
of the prophets, of the evangelists, and of the apostles, they most
probably suggested the order, that the bishops and presbyters should
deliver all their sacred books into the hands of the magistrates; who
were commanded, under the severest penalties, to burn them in a public
and solemn manner. By the same edict, the property of the church was at
once confiscated; and the several parts of which it might consist
were either sold to the highest bidder, united to the Imperial domain,
bestowed on the cities and corporations, or granted to the solicitations
of rapacious courtiers. After taking such effectual measures to abolish
the worship, and to dissolve the government of the Christians, it was
thought necessary to subject to the most intolerable hardships the
condition of those perverse individuals who should still reject the
religion of nature, of Rome, and of their ancestors. Persons of
a liberal birth were declared incapable of holding any honors or
employments; slaves were forever deprived of the hopes of freedom, and
the whole body of the people were put out of the protection of the law.
The judges were authorized to hear and to determine every action that
was brought against a Christian. But the Christians were not permitted
to complain of any injury which they themselves had suffered; and thus
those unfortunate sectaries were exposed to the severity, while they
were excluded from the benefits, of public justice. This new species of
martyrdom, so painful and lingering, so obscure and ignominious, was,
perhaps, the most proper to weary the constancy of the faithful: nor can
it be doubted that the passions and interest of mankind were disposed on
this occasion to second the designs of the emperors. But the policy of a
well-ordered government must sometimes have interposed in behalf of
the oppressed Christians; * nor was it possible for the Roman princes
entirely to remove the apprehension of punishment, or to connive at
every act of fraud and violence, without exposing their own authority
and the rest of their subjects to the most alarming dangers.
This edict was scarcely exhibited to the public view, in the most
conspicuous place of Nicomedia, before it was torn down by the hands
of a Christian, who expressed at the same time, by the bitterest
invectives, his contempt as well as abhorrence for such impious and
tyrannical governors. His offence, according to the mildest laws,
amounted to treason, and deserved death. And if it be true that he was
a person of rank and education, those circumstances could serve only to
aggravate his guilt. He was burnt, or rather roasted, by a slow fire;
and his executioners, zealous to revenge the personal insult which had
been offered to the emperors, exhausted every refinement of cruelty,
without being able to subdue his patience, or to alter the steady and
insulting smile which in his dying agonies he still preserved in his
countenance. The Christians, though they confessed that his conduct
had not been strictly conformable to the laws of prudence, admired the
divine fervor of his zeal; and the excessive commendations which they
lavished on the memory of their hero and martyr, contributed to fix a
deep impression of terror and hatred in the mind of Diocletian.
His fears were soon alarmed by the view of a danger from which he very
narrowly escaped. Within fifteen days the palace of Nicomedia, and even
the bed-chamber of Diocletian, were twice in flames; and though both
times they were extinguished without any material damage, the singular
repetition of the fire was justly considered as an evident proof that it
had not been the effect of chance or negligence. The suspicion naturally
fell on the Christians; and it was suggested, with some degree of
probability, that those desperate fanatics, provoked by their present
sufferings, and apprehensive of impending calamities, had entered into
a conspiracy with their faithful brethren, the eunuchs of the
palace, against the lives of two emperors, whom they detested as the
irreconcilable enemies of the church of God. Jealousy and resentment
prevailed in every breast, but especially in that of Diocletian. A great
number of persons, distinguished either by the offices which they had
filled, or by the favor which they had enjoyed, were thrown into prison.
Every mode of torture was put in practice, and the court, as well as
city, was polluted with many bloody executions. But as it was found
impossible to extort any discovery of this mysterious transaction, it
seems incumbent on us either to presume the innocence, or to admire the
resolution, of the sufferers. A few days afterwards Galerius hastily
withdrew himself from Nicomedia, declaring, that if he delayed his
departure from that devoted palace, he should fall a sacrifice to the
rage of the Christians. The ecclesiastical historians, from whom alone
we derive a partial and imperfect knowledge of this persecution, are at
a loss how to account for the fears and dangers of the emperors. Two
of these writers, a prince and a rhetorician, were eye-witnesses of
the fire of Nicomedia. The one ascribes it to lightning, and the divine
wrath; the other affirms, that it was kindled by the malice of Galerius
himself.
As the edict against the Christians was designed for a general law of
the whole empire, and as Diocletian and Galerius, though they might not
wait for the consent, were assured of the concurrence, of the Western
princes, it would appear more consonant to our ideas of policy, that the
governors of all the provinces should have received secret instructions
to publish, on one and the same day, this declaration of war within
their respective departments. It was at least to be expected, that the
convenience of the public highways and established posts would have
enabled the emperors to transmit their orders with the utmost despatch
from the palace of Nicomedia to the extremities of the Roman world; and
that they would not have suffered fifty days to elapse, before the edict
was published in Syria, and near four months before it was signified to
the cities of Africa. This delay may perhaps be imputed to the cautious
temper of Diocletian, who had yielded a reluctant consent to the
measures of persecution, and who was desirous of trying the experiment
under his more immediate eye, before he gave way to the disorders and
discontent which it must inevitably occasion in the distant provinces.
At first, indeed, the magistrates were restrained from the effusion
of blood; but the use of every other severity was permitted, and
even recommended to their zeal; nor could the Christians, though
they cheerfully resigned the ornaments of their churches, resolve to
interrupt their religious assemblies, or to deliver their sacred books
to the flames. The pious obstinacy of Felix, an African bishop, appears
to have embarrassed the subordinate ministers of the government. The
curator of his city sent him in chains to the proconsul. The proconsul
transmitted him to the PrÊtorian prÊfect of Italy; and Felix, who
disdained even to give an evasive answer, was at length beheaded at
Venusia, in Lucania, a place on which the birth of Horace has conferred
fame. This precedent, and perhaps some Imperial rescript, which was
issued in consequence of it, appeared to authorize the governors of
provinces, in punishing with death the refusal of the Christians to
deliver up their sacred books. There were undoubtedly many persons who
embraced this opportunity of obtaining the crown of martyrdom; but there
were likewise too many who purchased an ignominious life, by discovering
and betraying the holy Scripture into the hands of infidels. A great
number even of bishops and presbyters acquired, by this criminal
compliance, the opprobrious epithet of Traditors; and their offence was
productive of much present scandal and of much future discord in the
African church.
The copies as well as the versions of Scripture, were already so
multiplied in the empire, that the most severe inquisition could no
longer be attended with any fatal consequences; and even the sacrifice
of those volumes, which, in every congregation, were preserved for
public use, required the consent of some treacherous and unworthy
Christians. But the ruin of the churches was easily effected by the
authority of the government, and by the labor of the Pagans. In some
provinces, however, the magistrates contented themselves with shutting
up the places of religious worship. In others, they more literally
complied with the terms of the edict; and after taking away the doors,
the benches, and the pulpit, which they burnt as it were in a funeral
pile, they completely demolished the remainder of the edifice. It
is perhaps to this melancholy occasion that we should apply a very
remarkable story, which is related with so many circumstances of variety
and improbability, that it serves rather to excite than to satisfy
our curiosity. In a small town in Phrygia, of whose names as well as
situation we are left ignorant, it should seem that the magistrates and
the body of the people had embraced the Christian faith; and as some
resistance might be apprehended to the execution of the edict, the
governor of the province was supported by a numerous detachment of
legionaries. On their approach the citizens threw themselves into the
church, with the resolution either of defending by arms that sacred
edifice, or of perishing in its ruins. They indignantly rejected the
notice and permission which was given them to retire, till the soldiers,
provoked by their obstinate refusal, set fire to the building on all
sides, and consumed, by this extraordinary kind of martyrdom, a great
number of Phrygians, with their wives and children.
Some slight disturbances, though they were suppressed almost as soon as
excited, in Syria and the frontiers of Armenia, afforded the enemies of
the church a very plausible occasion to insinuate, that those troubles
had been secretly fomented by the intrigues of the bishops, who
had already forgotten their ostentatious professions of passive and
unlimited obedience. The resentment, or the fears, of Diocletian, at
length transported him beyond the bounds of moderation, which he had
hitherto preserved, and he declared, in a series of cruel edicts,
his intention of abolishing the Christian name. By the first of these
edicts, the governors of the provinces were directed to apprehend all
persons of the ecclesiastical order; and the prisons, destined for
the vilest criminals, were soon filled with a multitude of bishops,
presbyters, deacons, readers, and exorcists. By a second edict, the
magistrates were commanded to employ every method of severity, which
might reclaim them from their odious superstition, and oblige them to
return to the established worship of the gods. This rigorous order was
extended, by a subsequent edict, to the whole body of Christians, who
were exposed to a violent and general persecution. Instead of those
salutary restraints, which had required the direct and solemn testimony
of an accuser, it became the duty as well as the interest of the
Imperial officers to discover, to pursue, and to torment the most
obnoxious among the faithful. Heavy penalties were denounced against
all who should presume to save a prescribed sectary from the just
indignation of the gods, and of the emperors. Yet, notwithstanding the
severity of this law, the virtuous courage of many of the Pagans, in
concealing their friends or relations, affords an honorable proof,
that the rage of superstition had not extinguished in their minds the
sentiments of nature and humanity.