No More Learning

CH. I.
1-2


## p. 4 (#34) ###############################################

4
The War with Maxentius
[312–338
-
friendly to them, and Licinius had never been an active persecutor;
whereas Maximin was a cruel and malicious enemy, and Maxentius,
standing as he did for Rome, could not but be hostile to them. So
Maxentius was to crush Constantine, and Maximin to deal with Licinius.
Constantine did not wait to be crushed. Breaking up his camp at
Colmar, he pushed rapidly across the Alps. In a cavalry fight near
Turin, the Gauls overcame the formidable cataphracti—horse and rider
clad in mail—of Maxentius. Then straight to Verona, where in Ruricius
Pompeianus he found a foeman worthy of his steel. Right well did
Pompeianus defend Verona ; and if he escaped from the siege, it was
only to gather an army for its relief. Then another great battle.
Pompeianus was killed, Verona surrendered, and Constantine made
straight for Rome. Still Maxentius gave no sign. He had baffled
invasion twice before by sitting still in Rome, and Constantine could
not have besieged the city with far inferior forces. At the last moment
Maxentius came out a few miles, and offered battle (28 Oct. 312) at
Saxa Rubra. A skilful flank march of Constantine forced him to fight
with the Tiber behind him, and the Mulvian bridge for his retreat.
His Numidians fled before the Gaulish cavalry, the Praetorian Guard
fell fighting where it stood, and the rest of the army was driven head-
long into the river. Maxentius perished in the waters, and Constantine
was master of the West.
This short campaign-the most brilliant feat of arms since Aurelian's
time—was an epoch for Constantine himself. To it belongs the story
of the Shining Cross. Somewhere between Colmar and Saxa Rubra he
saw in the sky one afternoon a bright cross with the words Hoc vince,
and the army saw it too; and in a dream that night Christ bade him
take. it for his standard. So Constantine himself told Eusebius, and so
Eusebius recorded it in 338; and there is no reason to suspect either
the one or the other of deceit. The evidence of the
any case
not worth much; but that of Lactantius' in 314 and of the heathen
Nazarius in 321 puts it beyond reasonable doubt that something of the
sort did happen. But we need not therefore set it down for a miracle.
The cross observed may very well have been a halo, such as Whymper
saw when he came down after the accident on the Matterhorn in 1865—
three crosses for his three lost companions. The rest is no more than
can be accounted for by Constantine's imagination, inflamed as it must
have been by the intense anxiety of the unequal contest. Yet after all,
the cross was not an exclusively Christian symbol. The action was am-
biguous, like most of Constantine's actions at this period of his life. He
was quite clear about monotheism; but he was not equally clear about
the difference between Christ and the Unconquered Sun. The Gauls had
fought of old beneath the Sun-god's cross of light: so while the Christians
army
is in
1 Lactantius is not discredited by the similar vision he gives to Licinius. Why
should not Licinius take a hint from Constantine, and have a vision of his own?


## p. 5 (#35) ###############################################

311-315]
The Edict of Milan
5
saw in the labarum the cross of Christ, the heathens in the army
would
only be receiving an old standard back again. Such was the origin of
the Byzantine Labarum.
One enduring monument of the victory is the triumphal arch still
standing at Rome, dedicated to him by the Senate and People in 315.
Its inscription recites how INSTINCTU DIVINITATIS he inflicted just punish-
ment on the tyrant and all his party. The expression has been set down
as a later correction of some such heathen form as NUTU IOVIS O. M. : but
it is certainly original, and must express Constantine's declared belief-
for we may trust the Senate and the other panegyrists for knowing
what was likely to please him.
Constantine remained two months in Rome, leaving in the first days
of 313 for Milan, where he gave his sister Constantia in marriage to
Licinius, and conferred with him on policy generally, and on the
hostile attitude of Maximin in particular. That ruler had not published
the edict of Galerius, but merely sent a circular to the officials that
actual persecution was to be stopped for the present. A few months
later (about Nov. 311) he resumed it, with less bloodshed and more
statesmanship. It was far more skilfully planned than any that had
gone before. Maximin's endeavour was to stir up the municipalities
against the Christians, to organise a rival church of heathenism, and
to give a definitely antichristian bias to education. Even the fall of
Maxentius had drawn from him only a rescript so full of inconsistencies
that neither heathens nor Christians could make head or tail of it, except
that Maximin was a prodigious liar. He even denied that there had
been any persecution during his reign. At all events, this was not
the complete change of policy needed to save him. Constantine and
Licinius saw their advantage, and issued from Milan a new edict of
toleration. Its text is lost', but it went far beyond the edict of Galerius.
For the first time in history, the principle of universal toleration was
offi lly laid down—that every man has a right to choose his religion
and to practise it in his own way without any discouragement from the
State. No doubt it was laid down as a political move, for neither
Constantine nor Licinius kept to it. Constantine tried to crush
Donatists and Arians, and Licinius fell back even from toleration of
Christians. Still the old heathen principle, that no man may worship
gods who are not on the official list, was rejected for the present, and
toleration became the general law of the Empire till the time of
Theodosius.
The wedding festivities were rudely interrupted by the news that
Maximin had made a sudden attack without waiting for the end of the
1 The issue of the edict seems proved by Eus. H. E. x. 5 Tây Baoulik (incl.
Constantine) διατάξεων. Its purport is recited in the Litterae Licinii which is the
form in which it reached Maximin's dominions, and is therefore given in its place
by Eus. and Lact.
CH. 1.


## p. 6 (#36) ###############################################

6
The defeat of Maximin Daza
[313
!
1
winter, and met with brilliant success, capturing Byzantium and
pushing on towards Hadrianople. There, however, Licinius met him
with a very inferior force, and completely routed him (30 April 313).
Maximin fled to Nicomedia, and soon found that it would be as much
as he could do to hold the line of Mount Taurus. Now he had no
choice—the Christians were strong in Egypt and Syria, and must be
conciliated at any cost. So he issued a new edict, explaining that the
officials had committed many oppressions very painful to a benevolent
ruler like himself; and now, to make further mistakes impossible, he lets
all men know that everyone is free to practise whatever religion he
pleases. Maximin gives the same liberty as Constantine and Licinius
- he could not safely offer less—but he states no principle of toleration.
However, it was too late now. Maximin died in the summer, and
Licinius issued a rescript carrying out the decisions of Milan, and
restoring confiscated property to “the corporation of the Christians. ”
It was published at Nicomedia 13 June 313. Constantine sent out
similar letters in the West.
The defeat of Maximin ends the long contest of Church and State
begun by Nero. Former persecutions had died out of themselves, and
even Gallienus had only restored the confiscated property ; but now the
Christians had gained full legal recognition, of which they were never
again deprived. Licinius and Julian might devise annoyances and
connive at outrages, and work the administration in a hostile spirit;
but they never ventured to revoke the Edict of Milan. Heathenism
was still strong in its associations with Greek philosophy and culture,
with Roman law and social order, and its moral character stood higher
than it had done. It hardly looked like a beaten enemy: yet such it
Its last real hope was gone.
Religious peace was assured, but the unity of the Empire was not
yet restored. Constantine and Licinius were both ambitious, and war
between them was only a question of time. They were not unequally
matched. If Constantine had the victorious legions of Gaul, Licinius
ruled the East from the frontier of Armenia to that of Italy, so that
he was master of the Illyrian provinces, which furnished the best
soldiers of the Roman army. Every emperor from Claudius to Licinius
himself was an Illyrian, except Tacitus and Carus. And if Constantine
had done a splendid feat of arms, Licinius was a fine soldier too, and
(with all his personal vices) not less careful of his subjects.
Constantine was called away from Milan by some incursions of the
Franks, who kept him busy during the summer of 313. When things
were more settled, he proposed to institute a middle domain for his
other brother-in-law Bassianus. The plan seems to have been that while
Constantine gave him Italy, Licinius should give him Illyricum. Licinius
frustrated it by engaging Bassianus in a plot for which he was put to
death, and then refused to give up to Constantine his agent Senecio,
was.


## p. 7 (#37) ###############################################

314–323]
The Wars with Licinius
7
the brother of Bassianus. This meant war. Constantine took the
offensive as he had done before, pushing into Pannonia with no more
than 20,000 men, and attacking Licinius at Cibalae, where he was
endeavouring to cover Sirmium. He had 35,000 against him, but a
hard-fought battle (8 Oct. 314) ended in a complete victory, and the
capture of Sirmium. Licinius fled towards Hadrianople, deepening the
quarrel on the way by giving the rank of Caesar to his Illyrian general
Valens. A new army was collected; but another great battle on the
Mardian plain was indecisive. Constantine won the victory; but
Licinius and Valens were able to take up a threatening position in his
rear at Beroea. So peace had to be made. First Valens was sacrificed :
then Licinius gave up Illyricum from the Danube to the extremity of
Greece, retaining in Europe only Thrace, which however in those days
reached north to the Danube. So things settled down. Constantine
returned to Rome in the summer to celebrate his Decennalia (25 July
315), and in 317 the succession was secured by the nomination of
Caesars, Crispus and Constantine the sons of Constantine, and Li-
cinianus the son of Licinius. Crispus was grown up, but Constantine
was a baby
The treaty might be hollow, but it kept the peace for nearly eight
years. If Constantine was evidently the stronger, Licinius was still too
strong to be rashly attacked. So each went his own way. It soon
appeared which was the better statesman. Constantine drew nearer to
the Christians, while Licinius drifted into persecution, devising annoy-
ances enough to make them enemies but not enough to make them
harmless. Thus Constantine allows manumission in church, judges the
Donatists, closes the courts on Sundays, loads the churches with gifts,
and, at last (May 323)', frees Christians from all pagan ceremonies of
state. Licinius drove the Christians from his court, forbade meetings
.
of bishops, and meddled vexatiously with their worship. This gave the
war something of a religious character; but its occasion was not
religious. The Goths had been pretty quiet since Aurelian had settled
them in Dacia. It was not till 322 that Rausimod their king crossed
the Danube on a foray. Constantine drove them back, chased them
beyond the Danube, slew Rausimod, and settled thousands of Gothic
serts in the adjacent provinces. But in the pursuit he crossed the
territory of Licinius; and this led to war. Constantine's
army
130,000 strong, and his son Crispus had a fleet of 200 sail in the
Piraeus. Licinius awaited him with 160,000 men near Hadrianople,
while his admiral Amandus was to hold the Hellespont with 350 ships.
There was no idea of using the fleet to take Constantine in the rear.
was
1 Recent opinion (Jonquet, Pears) seems to place the campaign in 324. The
question is difficult: but the Council of Nicaea seems firmly fixed for 325, the
preparations for it cannot have begun till the war was ended, and no room seems
left for them if the battle of Chrysopolis is placed in Sept. 324.
CH. 1.


## p. 8 (#38) ###############################################

8
How Constantine became Christian
[ 323–337
After some difficult manoeuvres, Constantine won the first battle
(3 July 323), but was brought to a stop before the walls of Byzantium.
Licinius was safe there, so long as he held the sea ; so he chose Marti-
nianus his magister officiorum for the new Augustus of the West.
Meanwhile Constantine strengthened his fleet, and his son Crispus com-
pletely defeated Amandus in the Hellespont. Licinius left Byzantium to
defend itself—it had held out two years against Severus—and prepared
to maintain the Asiatic shore. Constantine left Byzantium on one side
and landed near Chrysopolis, where he found the whole army of Licinius
drawn up to meet him. The battle of Chrysopolis (18 or 20 Sept. 323)
was decisive. Licinius fled to Nicomedia, and presently Constantia
came out to ask for her husband's life. It was granted, and Constantine
confirmed his promise with an oath. Nevertheless Licinius was put to
death in October 325 on a charge of treasonable intrigue. The charge
is unlikely: but Licinius was quite capable of it, and his execution does
not seem to have estranged Constantia from her brother. But perhaps
the matter is best connected with the family tragedy which we shall
come to presently.
As a general, Constantine ranks high among the emperors. Good
soldiers as they mostly were, none but Severus and Aurelian could boast
of any such career of victory as had brought Constantine from the
shores of Britain to the banks of the Tiber and the walls of Byzantium.
But after the “crowning mercy” of Chrysopolis there was no more
fighting, except with the Goths. The last fourteen years of Constantine
(323–337) were years of peace : and the first question which then
confronted him was the question of religion. By what road did he
approach Christianity, and how far did he come on the journey ?
Two fables may be dismissed at once—the heathen fable told by
Zosimus in the fifth century, that the Christians were complaisant when
the philosophers refused to absolve him for the murder of his son
Crispus; and the papal fable of the eighth century, that he was healed
of leprosy by Pope Sylvester, and thereupon gave him dominion over
“ the palace, the city of Rome, and the entire West. ” These legends
are summarily refuted by the fact that he was baptised in 337, not as
they tell us in 326. Turning now to history, we have no reason to
suppose that he owed Christian impressions to his mother's teaching :
but Constantius was an eclectic of the better sort, and a man of some
culture ; and his memory contrasted well with that of his colleagues.
Constantine seems to have begun where his father left off, as more or
less monotheistic and averse to idols, and more or less friendly to the
Christians; and all these things grew upon him. The last of them may
not have meant much at first, for even hostile emperors like Severus and
Diocletian had sense enough to keep on good terms with the Christians
when they were not prepared to crush them. But Constantine was
drawn to them personally as well as politically; by his pure life and


## p. 9 (#39) ###############################################

323–337]
Policy of Constantine
9
genuine humanity as well as by his shrewd statesmanship. Their lofty
monotheism and austere morals attracted the man, their strong organi-
sation arrested the attention of the ruler. When Diocletian threw
down his challenge to the Church, he made religion the urgent question
of the time: and the persecution was a visible failure before Constantine
was well settled in Gaul. If Diocletian had failed to crush the Church,
others were not likely to succeed. Maximin or Licinius might hark
back to the past; but Constantine saw clearly that the Empire would
have to make some sort of terms with the Church, so that the only
question was how far it would be needful or safe to go. For the
moment, a little friendliness to the Gaulish bishops was enough to
secure the good will of the Christians all over the Empire. Then came
the wars of 312-3, which forced on Constantine and Licinius the
championship of the Christians, and made it plain good policy to give
them full legal toleration. Licinius stopped there, and Constantine did
not make up his mind without anxiety. The God of the Christians
had shown great power, and might be the best protector; and in any
case a firm alliance with their strong hierarchy would not only remove a
great danger, but give the very help which the Empire needed. On
the other hand, it was a serious thing to break with the past and brave
the terrors of heathen magic. Moreover, the Christians were a minority
even in the East, and he could not openly go over to them without risk
of a pagan reaction. So he moved cautiously. Christianity differed
forsooth very little from the better sort of heathenism. They could
both be brought under the broad shield of monotheism, if the heathens
would give up their idols and immoral worships, and the Christians
would not insist too rudely on that awkward doctrine of the deity of
Christ. On these terms the lion of Christianity might lie down with
the lamb of Eclecticism, and the guileless emperor would be the little
child to lead them both.
The problem of Church and State was new, for the old religion of
Rome was never more than a department of the State, and the worship-
pers of Isis and Mithras readily “conformed to the ceremonies of the
Roman people. ” But when Christianity made a practical distinction
between Caesar's things and God's, the relation of Church and State
became a difficult question. Constantine handled it with great skill
and much success. He not only made the Christians thoroughly loyal,
but won the active support of the churches, and obtained such influence
over the bishops that they seemed almost willing to sink into a depart-
ment of the State. But he forgot one thing. The surface thought of
his time, Christian as well as heathen, tended to a vague monotheism
which looked on Christ and the sun as almost equally good symbols of
the Supreme: and this obscured the deeper conviction of the Christians
that the deity of Christ is as essential as the unity of God. After all,
Christianity is not a monotheistic philosophy, but a life in Christ.
CH. I.


## p. 10 (#40) ##############################################

10
Religious Policy of Constantine
[315–337
When this conviction asserted itself with overwhelming power at the
Council of Nicaea, Constantine gave way with a good grace. As it had
been decided at Saxa Rubra that the Empire was to fight beneath the
cross of God, so now it was decided at Nicaea that the cross was to be
the cross of Christ, and not the Sun-god's cross of light.
We may doubt whether Constantine took in the full meaning of the
decision : but at any rate it meant that the Christians refused to be
included with others in a monotheistic state religion. If the Empire
was to have their full friendship, it must become definitely Christian :
and this is the goal to which Constantine seems to have looked forward
in his later years, though he can hardly have hoped himself to reach it.
Heathenism was still strong, and he continued to use vague monotheistic
language. Only in his last illness did he feel it safe to throw off the
mask and avow himself a Christian. “Let there be no ambiguity,"
,”
said he, as he asked for baptism ; and then he laid aside the purple, and
passed away in the white robe of a Christian neophyte (22 May 337).
This would seem to be the general outline of Constantine's religious
life and policy. We can now return to the morrow of Chrysopolis,
and take it more in detail. Now that he was master of the Empire, he
made his alliance with the Christians as close as he could without
abandoning the official neutrality of his monotheism. His attitude is
well shown by his coins. Mars and Genius P. R. disappear after Saxa
Rubra, or at latest by 317: Sol invictus by 315, or at any rate 323.
Coins of Iuppiter Aug. seem to have been struck only for Licinius.
Later on, the heathen inscriptions are replaced by phrases as neutral as
the cross itself, like Beata tranquillitas or Providentia Augg. , or Instinctu
Divinitatis on his triumphal arch at Rome. His laws keep pace with
the coins. In form they are mostly neutral; but they show an increasing
leaning to Christianity. Thus his edict for the observance of "the
venerable day of the Sun” only raised it to the rank of the heathen
feriae by closing the law-courts; and the Latin prayer he imposed on
the army (the first case known of prayer in an unknown tongue) is quite
indeterminate as between Christ and Jupiter. So too when before 316
he sanctioned manumissions in churches, he was only taking a hint from
the manumissions in certain temples. Yet again, when in 313 (and by
later law) he exempted the clergy of the Catholic Church—not those of
the sects—from the decurionate and other burdens, he gave them
only the privileges already enjoyed by some of the heathen priests and
teachers. But the relief was great enough to cause an ungodly rush for
holy Orders, and with it such a loss of taxpayers that in 320 he had to
forbid the ordination of anyone qualified for the curia of his city.
None but the poor (and an occasional official) could now be ordained,
and those only to fill vacancies caused by death. The second limitation
.
may not have been enforced, but the first remained. To save the
revenue, the Church was debased at a stroke.


## p. 11 (#41) ##############################################

319–337]
Religious Policy of Constantine
11
Other laws however lean more to a side, like the edict of 319 which
threatens to burn the Jews if they stone “a convert to the worship of
God. ” No doubt such converts needed protection ; and Roman law
was not squeamish about burning criminals, if they were of low rank.
Upon the whole, this policy of official neutrality and personal favour
powerfully stimulated the growth of the churches. The time-servers
were all Christians now, and Eusebius plainly denounces their “unspeak-
able hypocrisy. ” At least in later years, Constantine himself had to
rebuke bishops for flattery. The defeat of Licinius enabled him to
come forward more openly as the patron of the churches. His letter to
the provincials of the Empire (Eusebius naturally gives the copy which
went to Palestine) begins with high praise of the confessors and strong
denunciation of the persecutors, whose wickedness is shown by their
miserable ends. They would have destroyed the republic, if the Divinity
had not raised up me, Constantine, from the far West of Britain to
destroy them. He then restores rank and property to all the victims of
persecution in the islands, the mines, and the houses of forced labour,
and finishes with an earnest exhortation to the worship of the one true
God.
But after all, the Church was not quite what Constantine wanted it
to be. He was not more attracted to it by its lofty monotheism than
by the imposing unity which promised new life to the weary State. For
six hundred years the world had been in quest of a universal religion.
Stoicism was no more than a philosophy for the few, the worship of the
emperor was debased by officialism, and by this time quite outworn, and
even Mithraism had never shown such living power as Christianity.
Here then was something that could realise the religious side of the
Empire in a nobler form than Augustus or Hadrian had ever dreamed
of-a universal Church that could stand beside the universal Empire and
worthily support its labours for the peace and welfare of the world.
But for this purpose unity was essential. If the Church was divided
against itself, it could not help the Empire. Worse than this; it could
hardly be divided against itself without being also divided against the
Empire. One of the parties was likely to appeal to the emperor; and
then he would have to decide between them and make an enemy of the
defeated party; and if he tried to enforce his decision, they were likely
to resist him as stubbornly as the whole Church had resisted the heathen
emperors. This would bring back the whole difficulty of the perse-
cutions, though possibly on a smaller scale. To put it shortly, the
Christians had a conscience in matters of religion, and sometimes mis-
took self-will for conscience.
Constantine had experience of Christian self-will in Africa soon after
the defeat of Maxentius. When Diocletian commanded the Christians
to give up their sacred books, all parties agreed in refusing to obey.
Those who did obey were called traditores. But the officers did not
a
CH. I.


## p. 12 (#42) ##############################################

12
The Donatists
[311-321
66
always care what books they took: might apocryphal books be given
up? So thought Mensurius of Carthage, while others counted it
apostasy to give up any books at all. The controversy became acute at
the death of Mensurius in 311, when Felix of Aptunga consecrated his
successor Caecilian. But that right was claimed by Secundus of Tigisis,
the senior bishop of Numidia, who consecrated a rival bishop of Carthage.
It was some time before the Donatists (as they soon came to be called)
got their position clear. They held that Felix was a traditor, that the
ministrations of a traditor are null and void, and that a church which
has communion with a traditor is apostate.
After the battle of Saxa Rubra Constantine sent money to Caecilian
for the clergy “of the catholic church”; and as he “had heard that
some evil-disposed persons were troubling them,” he directed Caecilian
to refer them to the civil authorities for punishment. Thereupon they
appealed to him. Constantine seems to have contemplated a small
court to try the case--Miltiades of Rome, three Gaulish bishops, and
apparently the archdeacon of Rome: but a small council met instead
(Oct. 313) at Rome, which pronounced for Caecilian. The Donatists
were furious, and appealed again. This time Constantine summoned as
many bishops as he could, directing each to bring so many clergy and
servants with him, and giving him power to use the state post (cursus
publicus) for the journey. So a large council of the Western churches
met at Arles in August 314 (possibly 315). Even Britain sent bishops
from London, York, and some other place. It destroyed the Donatist
contention by deciding that Felix was not a traditor. It also settled
some more outstanding controversies, in favour of the Roman date of
Easter, and the Roman custom of not repeating heretical baptism, if it
had been given in the name of the Trinity. The decisions were sent to
Sylvester of Rome for circulation-not for confirmation.
nise in Arles the pattern of the Nicene Council. Still the Donatists
were not satisfied. They asked the emperor to decide the matter
himself, and he unwillingly consented. He heard them at Milan
(Nov. 316) and once more decided against them. Then they turned
round and said, What business has the emperor to meddle with the
Church? A vigorous persecution was begun, but with small success.
A band of Donatist fanatics called Circumcelliones ranged the country,
committing disorders and defying the authorities to make martyrs of
them. Even in 317 Constantine ordered that their outrages were not
to be retaliated; and when they sent him a message in 321 that they
would in no way communicate with “ that scoundrel, his bishop," he
stopped the persecution as useless, and frankly gave them toleration.
Africa was fairly quiet for the rest of his reign.
After the defeat of Licinius, Constantine found several disputes in
the Eastern churches. The old Easter question was still unsettled, the
Meletian schism was dividing Egypt, and there was no knowing how far
We can recog-


## p. 13 (#43) ##############################################

325]
The Council of Nicaea
13
the Arian controversy would spread. Unity must be restored at once,
and that by the old plan of calling a council. The churches had long
been in the habit of conferring together when difficulties arose. They
could refuse to recognise an unsatisfactory bishop; and cir. 269 a council
ventured to depose Paul of Samosata, and Aurelian had enforced its
decision. The weak point of this method was that rival councils could
be got up, so that every local quarrel had an excellent chance of
becoming a general controversy. Arianism in particular was setting
council against council. Constantine determined to go a step beyond
these local meetings. As he had summoned the Western bishops to
Arles, so now he summoned all the bishops of Christendom. If he
could bring them to a decision, it was not likely to be disputed; and
in any case he could safely give it the force of law. An oecumenical
council would be a grand demonstration, not only of the unity of the
Church, but of its close alliance with the Empire. So he issued invita-
tions to all Christian bishops to meet him at Nicaea in Bithynia in the
summer of 325, to make a final end of all the disputes which rent the
unity of Christendom. The programme was even wider than at Arles;
;
but the Donatists were not included in it. Constantine could let
sleeping dogs lie. We note here the choice of Nicaea for its auspicious
name—the city of victory—and convenience of access; and we see in it
one of many signs that the true centre of the Empire was settling down
somewhere near the Bosphorus.
We need not closely analyse the imposing list of bishops present
from almost every province of the Empire, with a few from beyond its
frontiers in the far East and North. Legend made them 318, the holy
number (Tin) of the cross of Jesus. We have lists in sundry languages,
none of them giving more than 221 names; but these are known to be
incomplete. The actual number may have been near 300. All the
thirteen great dioceses of the Empire were represented except Britain
and Illyricum, though only single bishops came from Africa, Spain,
Gaul and Dacia. Only one came in person from Italy, though two
presbyters appeared for the bishop of Rome. So the vast majority came
from the Eastern provinces of the Empire. The outsiders were four or
five-Theophilus bishop of the Goths beyond the Danube, Cathirius
(the name is corrupt) of the Crimean Bosporus, John the Persian,
and Restaces the Armenian, the son of Gregory the Illuminator, with
perhaps another Armenian bishop. Eusebius is full of enthusiasm over
his majestic roll of churches far and near, from the extremity of Europe
to the furthest ends of Asia. It was a day of victory for both the
Empire and the Church. The Empire had not only made peace with
the stubbornest of its enemies, but been accepted as its protector and
guide. The Church had won the greatest of all its victories when
Galerius issued his edict of toleration : but its mission to the whole
world has never been so vividly embodied as by that august assembly.
CB. I.


## p. 14 (#44) ##############################################

14
The Council of Nicaea
[325
а
We miss half the meaning of the Council if we overlook the tremulous
hope and joy of those first years of worldwide victory. Athanasius
shows it even more than Eusebius. One thing at least was clear. The
new world faced the old, and the spell of the Holy Roman Empire had
already begun to work.
Constantine took up at once the position of a moderator. He began
by burning unread the budget of complaints against each other which
the bishops had presented to him. He then preached them a sermon on
a
unity; and unity was his text all through. He was much more anxious
to make the decisions unanimous than to influence them one way or
another. His one object was to make an end of division in the churches.
So whatever pleased the bishops pleased the emperor too. Easter was
fixed according to the custom of Rome and Alexandria for the Sunday
after the full moon following the vernal equinox. It is the rule we
have now, and though it did not produce complete unity till the lunar
cycle was quite settled, it secured that Easter should come after the
Passover, for, said Constantine, How can we who are Christians keep the
same day as those ungodly Jews? The Meletian schism was peacefully
settled—to the disgust of Athanasius in later years—by giving the
Meletian clergy a status next to the orthodox, with a right of succession
if found worthy. So far well : but the condemnation of Arianism may
have been something of a trial to Constantine, who could not quite see
why they thought it worth while to be so hot on such a trifling question
as the deity of Christ. However that may be, Arianism was politically
impossible. He must have known already from Hosius that the West
would not accept it, and the first act of the Council meant its almost
unanimous rejection by the East. As soon as there was no doubt what
the decision would be, he did his best to make it quite unanimous. All
the arts of imperial persuasion were tried on the waverers, till in the
end only two stubborn recusants remained to be sent into exile.
To some wider aspects of the Council we shall return hereafter. For
the moment it may be enough to say that Constantine had won a great
He had not only got his questions settled, but had himself
taken a conspicuous part in settling them. More than this. He had
established formal relations, no longer with bishops or groups of bishops,
but with a great confederacy of churches. The churches had long been
tending to organise themselves on the lines of the Empire, as we see in
Cyprian's theories; and now Constantine made the Church an alter ego
of the State, and gave it a concrete unity of the political sort which it
never had before. Henceforth the holy Catholic Church of the creeds was
more and more limited to the confederation of churches recognised by
the State, so that it only remained to compel all men to come into these,
and prevent the formation of any other religious communities. In this
way
the Church became much more useful to the State, and also perhaps
fitter to resist the shock of the barbarian conquests which followed; but
success.


## p. 15 (#45) ##############################################

315–326]
Crispus and Fausta
15
surely something was lost in freedom and spirituality, and therefore also
in practical morality.
We
pass
from the Council of Nicaea to a family tragedy. So far
Constantine may pass as fairly merciful to the plotters of his own house.
Maximian, Bassianus and Licinius had all tried to assassinate him; and
if he put to death Bassianus (see p. 8), he had spared Maximian till he
plotted again, and so far he had spared Licinius also. But now in a few
months from Oct. 325 he puts to death not only Licinius but his own son
Crispus and the younger Licinius, then his own wife Fausta, and then a
number of his friends. The facts are certain, but their exact meaning is
obscure. It must however be noticed that the dynastic policy of Diocletian
had given a new political importance to members of an imperial family.
The widows of the third century emperors fall into obscurity ; but the
widow of Galerius is first sought in marriage by Maximin Daza, then
executed by Licinius, who also put to death the children of Severus,
Daza and Galerius. Now Constantine married twice; and there may
well have been a bitter division in his family. Minervina was the
mother of Crispus, whom we have seen greatly distinguishing himself
in the war with Licinius : and there seems no serious doubt that the
three younger sons were children of Fausta, though the eldest of them
was not born till 315-6, eight years after her marriage. So we come to
the questions we cannot answer. Was Constantine jealous of his eldest
son, or anxious to get him out of the way of the others ? Or was Crispus
a plotter justly put to death? And how came Fausta to share his fate
a little later? They are not likely to have been accomplices in a plot
or connected by a guilty passion, though the story of Zosimus is not
impossible, that she accused him falsely, and was herself put to death
for it when Helena convicted her. We have not material enough for
any decided opinion. The worst point, it may be, against Constantine
is that he did not spare the young Licinius. If he was the son of
Constantia, he cannot have been more than twelve years old. But the
allusions to him suggest that he was something more than a boy, and
we know that Constantia was on the best of terms with her brother
when she died a couple of years later. If Constantine suspected the
elder Licinius, the new sultanism would involve the younger in his fate ;
and if Crispus had married Helena his daughter, suspicion might attach
to him too. Fausta's fate is the inystery. Or was Constantine more or
less out of his mind that winter, as despots occasionally are? One or
two of his laws may point that way, and the possibility may help to
explain a good deal.
Constantine kept his Vicennalia at Rome in the summer of 326. It
was an unhappy visit, even if the domestic tragedy had already taken
place. Rome was the focus of heathenism, and of Roman pride. She
expected to see her sovereigns at the ceremonies, and to treat them with
something of republican familiarity. Constantine scandalised her with
1
.
重
​1
H
CH. I,


## p. 16 (#46) ##############################################

16
The site of Constantinople
[326
his Eastern pomp, and gave deep offence to the senate and people by
refusing to join the immemorial procession of the knights of Rome to
the Capitol. When he left the city in September, he left it for ever.
Rome indeed had long ceased to be a good capital. It was too far
from the frontier for military purposes, too full of republican survivals
for such sultans as the emperors had now become, too heathen for
Christian Caesars. So Maximian held his court at Milan, while Dio-
cletian gradually shifted his chief resort eastward from Sirmium to
Nicomedia. There were many signs now that the seat of empire ought
to be somewhere near the Bosphorus. The chief dangers had always
come from the Danube and the Euphrates; and about the Bosphorus
was the only point which commanded both. If these were watched by
the emperor himself, the Rhine might be left in charge of a Caesar.
This was much the best course for the present; but in the long run the
problem was insoluble. The Rhine and the Danube might be guarded,
or the Danube and the Euphrates ; but now that Rome had failed to
make a solid nation of her empire, she could not permanently guard all
three together. Sooner or later it must come to a choice between the
Rhine and the Euphrates, between Italy and Greece, between Europe
and Asia. Constantine is not likely to have seen clearly all this ; but
he did see that he commanded more important countries from the
Bosphorus than he could from Rome or Milan. These might control the
Latin West and the upper Danube ; but at the Bosphorus he had at
his feet the Greek world from Taurus to the Balkans, flanked northward
by the warlike peoples of Illyricum, and eastward by the great barbarian
fringe of Egypt, Syria and Armenia, reaching from the Caucasus to the
cataracts of the Nile. Nobody could yet foresee that by the seventh
century nothing but the Greek world would be left. But where pre-
cisely was the new capital to be placed ? Nicomedia would have been
Diocletian's city, not Constantine's, and in any case it lay at the far end
of a gulf, some fifty miles from the main line of traffic. Constantine
may at one time have dreamed of his own birthplace Naissus, or of
Sardica, and at another he began buildings on the site of Troy, before
he fixed upon the matchless position of Byzantium,
Europe and Asia are separated by the broad expanses of the Euxine
and Aegean seas, together stretching nearly a thousand miles from the
Crimea to the mountains of Crete, and in ancient times almost fringed
round with Greek cities. It is not all a land of the vine and the olive,
even in Aegean waters, for the Russian wind sweeps over the whole
region except in sheltered parts, as where Trebizond is protected by the
Caucasus, Philippi by the Rhodope, or Sparta by Taygetus, or where
Ionia hides behind the Mysian Olympus and the Trojan Ida. For all
its heat in summer, Constantinople is quite as cold in winter as London,
and the western ports of the Black Sea are more cumbered with ice than
the north of Norway. But the Aegean and the Euxine are not a single


## p. 17 (#47) ##############################################

B. C. 674-A. D. 323]
Byzantium
17
a
broad sheet of water. In the narrows between them the coasts of
Europe and Asia draw so close together that we can sail for more than
two hundred miles in full view of both continents. Leaving the warm
South behind at Lesbos (Mitylene) we pass from the Aegean to the
Propontis (Marmora) by the Hellespont (Dardanelles) a channel of
some fifty miles in length to Gallipoli, and two or three miles broad.
Then a voyage of a hundred and forty miles through the more open
waters of the Propontis brings us to the Bosphorus, which averages only
three-quarters of a mile wide, and has a winding course of sixteen miles
from Byzantium to the Cyanean rocks at the entrance of the Euxine.
It follows that a city on the Propontis is protected north and south by
the narrow passages of the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles, and that all
traffic between the Aegean and the Euxine must pass its walls. More-
over, the Bosphorus lay more conveniently than the Dardanelles for the
passage from Europe to Asia. Thus two of the chief trade-routes of the
Roman world crossed each other at Byzantium.
The Megarians may have had some idea of these things when they
colonised Chalcedon (B. C. 674) just outside the south end of the Bosphorus,
on the Asiatic side of the Propontis. But the site of Chalcedon has no
special advantages, so that its founders became a proverb of blindness for
overlooking the superb position of Byzantium across the water, which was
not occupied till B. c. 657. At the south end of the Bosphorus, but on
the European side, a blunt triangle is formed by the Propontis and the
Golden Horn, a deep inlet of the Bosphorus running seven miles to the
north-west. On the rising ground between them was built the city of
Byzantium. Small as its extent was in Greek times, it played a great
part in history. Its command of the corn trade of the Euxine made it
one of the most important strategic positions in the Greek world, so
that its capture by Alexander (it had repulsed Philip) was one of the
chief steps of his advance to empire. It formed an early alliance with
the Romans, who freed it from its perpetual trouble with the barbarians
of Thrace, whom neither peace nor war could keep quiet. Vespasian
(A. D. 73) took away its privileges and threw it into the province of
Thrace. In the civil wars of Septimius Severus it took the side of
Pescennius Niger, and held out for two years after Niger's overthrow at
Issus in 194. Severus destroyed its walls, and made it a subject-village
of Perinthus. Caracalla made it a city again, but it was sacked afresh
by Gallienus. Meanwhile the Gothic vikings came sailing past its ruined
walls to spread terror all over the Aegean and to the shores of Italy.
Under the Ilyrian emperors it was fortified again. Even then it was
taken first by Maximin Daza and then by Constantine in the first Licinian
war, so that its full significance only came out in the second. Licinius
was a good general, and pivoted the whole war upon it after his defeat at
Hadrianople. He might have held his ground indefinitely, if the destruc-
tion of his fleet in the Hellespont had not driven him from Byzantium.