The schools of philosophy of Byzantium, Antioch, and Alexandria pursued

their career of scepticism and sacrilegious discussion concerning

the divinity of Jesus Christ during the second and third centuries.

After throwing doubt upon the divine essence of the three persons of

the Trinity, others still more daring, such as Sabellius and Praxeas,

attempted to show that these three persons in God were but three

symbolic names given to the same substance. The Council of Alexandria

(261) punished these culpable errors. Soon after, an Egyptian priest

named Arius took them up and propagated them very widely, maintaining

that Jesus Christ was a created being, perfect no doubt and almost

like unto God, but not himself God. His doctrine also contained secret

heresies which were condemned by the Œcumenical Council of Nice (325).

Nevertheless this doctrine, known as Arianism, made great progress; it

was adopted and supported by several emperors, it spread throughout

Europe, and, in spite of the authority of councils, and the efforts

of popes and bishops, it seemed destined to lay the foundation of

a new Christianity in which the divinity of Christ was to find no

place. But the most radical attack upon Christianity was undoubtedly

the conspiracy of divergent sects under the leadership of the Emperor

Julian (331–362), surnamed the Apostate because he abjured the

Christian faith with the view of re-establishing paganism. His plan

for arriving at this result was very skilfully conceived. Perceiving

that it would be necessary to combine all the forces directed against

the Church, he showed favour to the heresies and the schools of

philosophy which, after obtaining a certain notoriety under Plotinus

and Porphyrius, had lapsed into the ridiculous fancies of evocations

and of demonology. But, under the protection of the emperor, matters

assumed a different aspect, as is pointed out by M. Jules Simon in his

“Histoire de l’Ecole d’Alexandrie.” This school, “humiliated by the

triumphs of Christianity, reduced to silence and obscurity, without

any fixed purpose, devoid of credit and influence, all at once took up

a fresh attitude at the accession of Julian, and attempted to employ

the sovereign power, with which one of its followers was clothed, for

extinguishing Christianity.” The struggle was a terrible one, and the

Church seemed to have lost all human means of defence. Her children

implored for help from on high, and the premature death of Julian was

attributed to the divine intervention. Ecclesiastical writers relate

that St. Basilius the Great, while praying God to protect his Church

against the persecutor, was transported in a dream: he saw Christ in

heaven and heard him say to St. Mercurius (the martyr of Cesarea, in

Cappadocia), “Go and smite the enemy of those who believe in me.” The

holy martyr at once sped on his mission, and, returning in a short

space of time, said to his Divine Master, “Your orders are executed,

Julian is no more.” St. Basilius had this vision on the night of the

emperor’s death. Several writers assert that the emperor, knowing

whence came the blow which was to prove fatal to him, collected in the

palm of his hand the blood which issued from the wound, and scattering

it towards the heavens, exclaimed, “Thou hast vanquished, Galilean.”

These stories, popularised by the Byzantine art (Fig. 308), testify to

the importance attached by the Christians to the struggle in which they

were engaged with Julian.

The fathers of the Church endeavoured to oppose to the schools

of philosophy, which had done so much harm to religion, purely

ecclesiastical schools, for the teaching of the faithful and in order

to protect them from the seductions of heretical learning. The school

of Edessa was the most flourishing of these Eastern schools during the

third and fourth centuries.

[Illustration: Fig. 308.--Dream of St. Basilius the Great.--The

Martyr of Cesarea, St. Mercurius, sent from heaven by Christ, is

in the act of stabbing the Emperor Julian the Apostate, whom he

has thrown to the ground (see the text, p. 399).--After a Greek

Painting of the Sixteenth Century, though the style is that of

the Eleventh, in the Library of M. Firmin-Didot. The matters

relating to this subject will be found collected in the “Mélanges

d’Archéologie” of P. Cahier, vol. i., p. 39 _et seq._]

The part taken by the emperors themselves in the dogmatic disputes of

the Christians, and the notoriety acquired by the rhetoricians who

attacked or defended the truth, had made a number of vain nonentities

rival each other in extravagance and recklessness in their endeavours

to become celebrated: they tried to attract public notice by an excess

of zeal against the heretics, by the austerity of their habits, by

some eccentric practice, or by the rashness of their attacks against

the discipline of the Church, notably against the worship paid to the

Virgin. Such were Coluthus, Aetius, Bonosus, Helvidius, Jovinian, the

Barefooted Friars, the Messalians, the Priscillianists, &c. Civil

dissensions broke out and blood was shed, and the Court of Byzantium

felt, through the great officers of the empire--and especially through

the women, who took a passionate interest in these abstractions of

dogma--the effect of every religious collision.

During the fourth century Arianism, which only saw in the Word a

superior being created to intervene between God and man, was the

prevailing heresy. The fifth century was agitated by the Pelagians,

disciples of Pelagius, a native of Great Britain. This man, who was

wanting neither in talent nor in ability, endeavoured to promulgate

his doctrine, based upon the negation of original sin; he maintained

that _man_ could observe the commandments of God and work out his

own salvation without the supernatural aid of divine grace--this was

a virtual denial of Christ’s word, “Without me ye can do nothing.”

Celestius, one of his followers, promulgated this heresy in Africa,

where it was eloquently combated by St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippona.

The council of Carthage (415) condemned it, and, upon the demand

of the Fathers there present, Pope Innocent I. issued his anathema

against Pelagius and his adherents. It was then that St. Augustine

pronounced the celebrated sentence, “Rome has spoken, the judgment

of the African bishops is confirmed by letters from the pope, the

cause is at an end--pray God that the error may be also!” (_Roma

locuta est, causa finita est_). But the leader of the sect wrote to

Zosimus, Innocent’s successor, a respectful letter of justification,

and, his envoy Celestius having presented to the new pope an insidious

profession of faith, by which he undertook to condemn anything which

should be reprobated by the Holy See, Zosimus intervened with the

African bishops on behalf of Pelagius, whom he sincerely believed

to be attached to the true faith. Those bishops represented to the

pontiff that his credulity had been imposed upon, and that the heretic,

before receiving absolution, ought to be made to abjure his errors

formally and explicitly. The pope then saw the trickery which had been

attempted, and again condemned Pelagius and his followers. The latter

appealed to the Council, but St. Augustine proved that the heresy

imputed to them had been fully inquired into by the African bishops

and irrevocably condemned by the Holy See, and that all that remained

to be done was to put it down. The Emperor Honorius, considering the

political troubles which were engendered, in the East more especially,

by religious dissensions, decreed that whoever should persist in

upholding the errors of Pelagianism should be punished with exile.

The heresy did not, however, altogether disappear, but underwent a

modification of form, and the semi-Pelagians, whose doctrine was

formally expounded by Cassianus the monk, while admitting original sin,

maintained that God had given to man the innate and natural power of

walking in the way of salvation, of believing and of freeing himself

from the fetters of sin without the help of divine grace. This was

appropriating the religious to the philosophical notion of free-will.

These abstract questions may to us seem very subtle, but in these early

centuries they were the great questions which occupied the attention

of society. A new heretic, Nestorius, Bishop of Constantinople,

created a vast sensation throughout Christianity by maintaining that

Jesus Christ embodied two distinct persons. Hitherto all Christians

had believed as the Church taught them, that the divine and the human

nature of Jesus Christ belonged to one person--the Word, the second

person of the Trinity. Nestorius attacked this fundamental dogma

indirectly, declaring that the Virgin should be called the _Mother of

Christ_, but not the _Mother of God_. This doctrine, implying

that in Christ there were two distinct persons, was so repulsive to the

faithful that, when the bishop expounded it to them for the first time,

they immediately left the church for fear of seeming to approve this

new heresy. The Emperor Theodosius the younger, seeing what disturbance

the preaching of Nestorius was giving rise to in Constantinople,

assembled a council at Ephesus, which was presided over by St. Cyril,

Bishop of Alexandria, on behalf of the pope. The heresiarch refused to

appear, and his doctrine was examined, discussed, and condemned.

The people of Ephesus gave marked evidence of their satisfaction

when they found that the title of Mother of God was confirmed to the

Virgin. But the ambassador of Theodosius, a devoted ally of Nestorius,

intercepted the despatch of the proceedings of the Council, and sent

to Constantinople a garbled account. The approaches to the imperial

palace were so well guarded, that there seemed to be little hope of

acquainting the emperor with what had really taken place, until a

deputy of the council resorted to the ruse of disguising himself as

a beggar and conveying the true written report in the hollow of his

staff. Theodosius then shut up Nestorius in a monastery at Antioch,

and, as he continued to promulgate his dogma, exiled him to Egypt.

A zealous monk, Eutyches, superior of a monastery near Constantinople,

while combating the heresy of Nestorius, fell into the opposite error,

alike contrary to orthodox teaching. Instead of respecting the letter

of the dogma, he in his turn became a schismatic, as he maintained

that there was only one nature in Jesus Christ--the divine; that this

had absorbed the human nature as the ocean absorbs a drop of water.

Condemned at Constantinople, he appealed from the sentence to another

council assembled at Ephesus, the decrees of which were confirmed by

Theodosius II. At the accession of Justinian, the orthodox religion

regained all its authority; Eutychianism no longer dared to attack it,

but Arianism extended even into Gaul in the track of the victorious

armies of Theodoric, Egidius, Odoacer, Totila, and the long-haired

kings.

The reign of Leo the Isaurian opened up fresh opportunities for

error. The sacred images, which had been held in veneration from the

earliest ages, became a cause of dispute in the East, where they were

disapproved of by Mahomet and forbidden by the Koran. It was alleged

that the figurative representation of human beings was subjected to

certain astral and diabolical influences, and that it was contrary to

religion, not to say sacrilegious, thus to disturb the quiet repose of

their souls. Leo the Isaurian, who had imbibed this idea, which was,

moreover, taught in oriental magic, issued against all kinds of images

the celebrated edict which was excommunicated by the pope, and which

convulsed the whole Eastern world. Luitprand, King of the Lombards,

the Venetians, Charles Martel and his Franks, were summoned to the

aid of the Eternal City, menaced by the forces of the empire, which

was determined to impose the condemnation of images upon the Western

Church. Charles Martel, by his overthrow of the victorious Saracens on

the plains of Poitiers (732), rendered a service of inestimable value

to the Christian religion as well as to France, for Islamism was upon

the point of subjugating all Christian Europe.

[Illustration: Fig. 309.--Amaury’s Disciples burnt by order

of Philip Augustus (1208).--Fac-simile of a Miniature in

the “Chroniques de St. Denis” (Manuscript of the Fourteenth

Century).--Burgundian Library, Brussels.]

[Illustration: Fig. 310.--Episode in the Siege of Toulouse,

representing, according to tradition, the death of Simon de

Montfort, who was killed on the 25th of June, 1218.--Bas-relief

in stone in the Church of St. Nazaire, in Carcassonne (Thirteenth

Century).]

During the reign of the Empress Irene, the second Council of Nice had

re-established the worship of images (787), but, until the accession

of the Empress Theodora, who enforced the decisions of the Council,

the Iconoclasts upon the one side, and the Manicheans upon the other,

continued to disturb the East as well as the various provinces of

Western and Southern Europe. In this great civil war a hundred thousand

persons perished; and those who succeeded in escaping took refuge in

the solitude of remote valleys and inaccessible mountains, where they

entrenched themselves and incessantly made inroads upon and ravaged the

territory of the empire. The separation of the Greek and the Latin

Churches, prepared if not actually affected under the Emperor Bardas

(854-866), served to further the spread of heresy. No new sect arose in

the eleventh century, but schisms broke out in the Church, some due to

individual pride and ambition, others emanating from the dialectics of

Aristotle, from the strange abuse of syllogism, and the substitution

of reasoning for faith. The mysteries were radically changed by the

endeavours to reconcile them with ordinary ideas, to interpret and

accommodate them to the vulgar understanding. Bérenger (tenth century),

in endeavouring to explain the dogma of the eucharist, himself fell

into heresy, and Roscelin, the chief of the Nominalists (eleventh

century), in his efforts to clear up the mystery of the Trinity, was

led to assert that it was but a name which did not correspond with

any actual fact. The Manicheans had made their way into Europe; they

affected a love of poverty and humble conduct which predisposed people

in their favour and won them adherents. Many of them were burnt at the

stake, but the sect was not crushed out, often reappearing in different

cities of Europe under various names, now in one shape and now in

another.

The civil tribunals also condemned to be burnt the disciples of a

theologian named Amaury of Paris, who promulgated his dogma during

the reign of Philip Augustus (Fig. 309). He taught that God is the

first cause, and that the law of Jesus Christ was to terminate in

the year 1200, and to make way for the law of the Holy Ghost, which

would sanctify men without any external act; by his denial of the

resurrection of the dead and of hell, he destroyed the essential basis

of morality. This doctrine, as convenient as it was dangerous, found

many warm partisans.

Abelard, the most talented dialectician of his day, gifted with

wonderful learning, and armed with a rational theology which he made

intelligible, assigned a different origin and a different mode of

action to each of the three persons of the Trinity. The divines at once

prepared to combat his views, and St. Bernard constituted himself their

champion. Abelard, when condemned, repented, and, on his knees before

his judges, burnt the books which contained his heretical theories; he

showed himself, indeed, even a greater man by this expiatory act than

he had ever done by the brilliancy of his teaching. Bishop Gilbert de

la Porrée, a scholastic heresiarch like Abelard, also met a terrible

antagonist in the gifted Abbot of Clairvaux, and, bowing his head,

he confessed his guilt, leaving his disciples to maintain that the

attributes of God ought to be considered as distinct from his essence.

Arnold of Brescia attacked the temporal power, upon the ground that

the Church should be stripped of her property, that the wallet of St.

Peter should be given back to the pope, and the ancient Roman Republic

proclaimed in the pontifical city. Valdo went still further; he advised

the Christians to renounce all kinds of property, in order to render

their lives more spiritual. The Albigenses (Figs. 310 and 311) and the

Waldenses, who were Manicheans under another name, eventually embodied

in themselves all the heresies which, towards the close of the twelfth

century, had spread over Europe and chiefly throughout the south of

France. In the following chapter (“The Inquisition”), the account of

the crusade preached against them is related at length. From every

quarter of Christendom, but chiefly from Germany, Flanders, and France,

crusaders were enlisted beneath the banner of the faith.

[Illustration: Fig. 311.--Entry of Louis VIII., King of France,

and of Cardinal St. Angelo, the Pope’s Legate, upon the 12th of

September, 1226, into Avignon, which had just capitulated after

a three months’ siege.--After a Miniature in the “Chroniques de

Hainaut” (Manuscript of the Fifteenth Century, in the Burgundian

Library, Brussels).]

[Illustration: Fig. 312.--Heresy of the Flagellants.--The Latin

inscription upon the streamer borne by the Bishop of Hippona

signifies, “They sacrifice to Satan, and not to God.”--Fac-simile

of a Miniature in the “Cité de Dieu,” by St. Augustine

(Manuscript of the Fifteenth Century, in St. Geneviève Library,

Paris).]

This campaign was begun in 1196. The council which condemned the new

Manichean heresy met at Montpellier in December of that year, and the

first effect of the repressive measures which it very promptly employed

was to drive back into the Cevennes, the Alps, and the Vosges, and

towards the Rhône, the Moselle, and the Rhine, a host of heretics who

endeavoured to teach publicly in the free towns of Germany.

An excess of devotion, which had its origin in the wish to avert the

wrath of God, gave birth in Italy quite spontaneously to the sect

known as the Flagellants. This strange infatuation for scourging began

at Perugia, whence it passed to Rome and afterwards to Germany and

Poland. The nobles, the elders, the people of all classes, the poor and

even the children, traversed the streets of the towns and the country

districts with bare shoulders, scourging themselves mercilessly with

whips having leathern thongs (Fig. 312). These fanatics who travelled

through all Europe, firmly believed that an angel had brought a missive

from Jesus Christ, which declared that there was only one way for a

Christian to obtain pardon for his sins, viz. to leave his native

country and scourge himself for thirty-three consecutive days, in

commemoration of the thirty-three years which Christ had passed upon

earth. The Apostolicals, the Dulcinists, the Beghards, the Flagellants,

the Spiritual Brothers, the Brethren of the Free Spirit, the Turlupins,

&c., adopted these superstitious ideas, and constituted distinct sects

which were condemned by the Church as heretical. The sectaries appealed

from the sentence: the civil tribunals backed up the ecclesiastical

ones; the faggots were kindled and a vast number of heretics perished;

many, however, escaped, and, joining the Albigenses, they formed

the sect of the Lollards. The Englishman Wickliff, whose heresy had

pervaded all Britain (1368–1384), openly attacked the Court of Rome,

the upper clergy, the liturgy, and the sacraments, with an audacity

all the greater because he felt that he had the support of the people

at large and of several sovereigns. The University of Oxford made a

critical examination of Wickliff’s books, and found them to contain

two hundred and seventy-eight reprehensible propositions, which it

submitted for censure to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop

of London. After he had declaimed against the Church, its customs and

its institutions, Wickliff attacked the very foundations of civil

society, by his doctrine that, to possess any right or authority

upon earth, it was necessary to be in a state of grace. Consequently

kings, nobles, and the landowners were to lose their political and

domanial rights, since they were in a state of mortal sin, just as

the pope, the bishops, and the priests through sin were to lose their

spiritual powers. He moreover denied the existence of free-will; and

his allegation that everything which man did he was necessarily obliged

to do, implied that all punishment was unjust, for no one is guilty

who acts under compulsion. Lastly, he only recognised the existence

of God to make Him responsible for evil, maintaining that God also

is moved by an invincible necessity, that He looks with approval on

those who sin, that He even constrains men to commit sin; “so that,”

as Bossuet remarks, “the religion of this so-called Reformer was worse

than atheism.” It is true that with Wickliff God counted for little,

for, according to his system, “every creature is God, everything is

God.” It is easy to understand the effect of such doctrines as these

upon the masses; the religious dispute was transformed into a social

question. The followers of Wickliff, when condemned, refused to bow to

the decisions of the ecclesiastical authority. Their books were burnt,

their apostles were sent to the stake, while others were imprisoned or

exiled. But, in spite of this rigorous treatment, Wickliff’s doctrines

made a deep impression in England, obtained shortly afterwards the

protection of the House of Commons, and disposed men’s minds to bend

beneath the despotic will of Henry VIII.

[Illustration: Fig. 313.--John Wickliff, a theologian Heresiarch,

the Precursor of Luther, born at Wickliff, in England, about

1324, died in 1387.--After the “Vrais Pourtraits des Hommes

Illustres:” 4to, Jean de Laon, Geneva, 1581.]

The staunchest Catholic writers admit that the clergy are themselves

responsible for the triumph of the heretics. Moeller says--“The

relaxation of ecclesiastical discipline amongst the clergy and that

in a great many religious communities, from which the pontifical

court itself was not always exempt, gave the sectaries of the

sixteenth century a pretext for their rebellion against the Church,

its doctrines, its hierarchy, and its institutions. To this moral

decadence of a great part of the clergy must further be added the

profound ignorance of the upper clergy; and even those who cultivated

literature and science confined themselves almost exclusively to the

study of Greek and Latin literature, which directed the whole course of

scientific research from the fifteenth century downwards. Many pagan

ideas had pervaded men’s minds, and had contributed to create a feeling

of contempt both for Christianity and for that beautiful Christian

literature which had shed a lustre on the Church from the very

earliest times. This condition of the clergy had a baneful influence

upon the mass of the people, who lived in utter ignorance of religion,

and who had lost their attachment to the Church and all respect for its

pastors.”

This religious indifference of the clergy and of the people explains

the success, not only of the heresiarchs who presented themselves as

reformers of manners and discipline, but even of the sects held in the

lowest esteem, the sorcerers, for instance. The facts are too numerous

and too well-authenticated to admit of any doubt upon this head. There

existed throughout all Europe, in the Middle Ages, numerous sects

of sorcerers and witches who in all seriousness professed to give

themselves over to the devil in exchange for the gift of magic power.

The Spanish Inquisition was not the only body which sent them to the

stake, after having submitted them to trial and received the confession

of their misdeeds; the French tribunals pronounced sentence of death in

similar cases when the accused, after long and minute interrogatories,

but without being put to the torture, made a confession of their

satanic orgies known by the name of _sabbat_ (Fig. 314). This kind

of heresy eluded all the steps taken by the civil and the religious

powers to put it down. The “Histoire des Procès de Sorcellerie,” by

Soldam, tells us that, even at the close of the sixteenth century, from

1590 to 1594, thirty-five witches were condemned to be burnt, out of

a total population of six thousand, in the small Protestant town of

Nordling, in Germany. The enormities of the sect of sorcerers attest,

no doubt, a profound depravation of morals, but they contained no germ

of social revolution; such, however, was not the case with the theories

expounded by the great heresiarchs.

[Illustration: Fig. 314.--The “Sabbat,” reprint of the legend

contained in a sentence of the Arras Tribunal in 1460.--Engraving

of the Sixteenth Century, preserved in the National Library,

Paris.]

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