When Valerian was consul for the third, and Gallienus for the fourth time,
Paternus, proconsul of Africa, summoned Cyprian to appear in his private
council-chamber. He there acquainted him with the Imperial mandate which
he had just received, that those who had abandoned the Roman religion
should immediately return to the practice of the ceremonies of their
ancestors. Cyprian replied without hesitation, that he was a Christian and
a bishop, devoted to the worship of the true and only Deity, to whom he
offered up his daily supplications for the safety and prosperity of the
two emperors, his lawful sovereigns. With modest confidence he pleaded the
privilege of a citizen, in refusing to give any answer to some invidious
and indeed illegal questions which the proconsul had proposed. A sentence
of banishment was pronounced as the penalty of Cyprian's disobedience; and
he was conducted without delay to Curubis, a free and maritime city of
Zeugitania, in a pleasant situation, a fertile territory, and at the
distance of about forty miles from Carthage. The exiled bishop enjoyed the
conveniences of life and the consciousness of virtue. His reputation was
diffused over Africa and Italy; an account of his behavior was published
for the edification of the Christian world; and his solitude was
frequently interrupted by the letters, the visits, and the congratulations
of the faithful. On the arrival of a new proconsul in the province the
fortune of Cyprian appeared for some time to wear a still more favorable
aspect. He was recalled from banishment; and though not yet permitted to
return to Carthage, his own gardens in the neighborhood of the capital
were assigned for the place of his residence.
At length, exactly one year after Cyprian was first apprehended, Galerius
Maximus, proconsul of Africa, received the Imperial warrant for the
execution of the Christian teachers. The bishop of Carthage was sensible
that he should be singled out for one of the first victims; and the
frailty of nature tempted him to withdraw himself, by a secret flight,
from the danger and the honor of martyrdom; * but soon recovering that
fortitude which his character required, he returned to his gardens, and
patiently expected the ministers of death. Two officers of rank, who were
intrusted with that commission, placed Cyprian between them in a chariot,
and as the proconsul was not then at leisure, they conducted him, not to a
prison, but to a private house in Carthage, which belonged to one of them.
An elegant supper was provided for the entertainment of the bishop, and
his Christian friends were permitted for the last time to enjoy his
society, whilst the streets were filled with a multitude of the faithful,
anxious and alarmed at the approaching fate of their spiritual father. In
the morning he appeared before the tribunal of the proconsul, who, after
informing himself of the name and situation of Cyprian, commanded him to
offer sacrifice, and pressed him to reflect on the consequences of his
disobedience. The refusal of Cyprian was firm and decisive; and the
magistrate, when he had taken the opinion of his council, pronounced with
some reluctance the sentence of death. It was conceived in the following
terms: "That Thascius Cyprianus should be immediately beheaded, as the
enemy of the gods of Rome, and as the chief and ringleader of a criminal
association, which he had seduced into an impious resistance against the
laws of the most holy emperors, Valerian and Gallienus." The manner of his
execution was the mildest and least painful that could be inflicted on a
person convicted of any capital offence; nor was the use of torture
admitted to obtain from the bishop of Carthage either the recantation of
his principles or the discovery of his accomplices.
As soon as the sentence was proclaimed, a general cry of "We will die with
him," arose at once among the listening multitude of Christians who waited
before the palace gates. The generous effusions of their zeal and their
affection were neither serviceable to Cyprian nor dangerous to themselves.
He was led away under a guard of tribunes and centurions, without
resistance and without insult, to the place of his execution, a spacious
and level plain near the city, which was already filled with great numbers
of spectators. His faithful presbyters and deacons were permitted to
accompany their holy bishop. * They assisted him in laying aside his upper
garment, spread linen on the ground to catch the precious relics of his
blood, and received his orders to bestow five-and-twenty pieces of gold on
the executioner. The martyr then covered his face with his hands, and at
one blow his head was separated from his body. His corpse remained during
some hours exposed to the curiosity of the Gentiles: but in the night it
was removed, and transported in a triumphal procession, and with a
splendid illumination, to the burial-place of the Christians. The funeral
of Cyprian was publicly celebrated without receiving any interruption from
the Roman magistrates; and those among the faithful, who had performed the
last offices to his person and his memory, were secure from the danger of
inquiry or of punishment. It is remarkable, that of so great a multitude
of bishops in the province of Africa, Cyprian was the first who was
esteemed worthy to obtain the crown of martyrdom.
It was in the choice of Cyprian, either to die a martyr, or to live an
apostate; but on the choice depended the alternative of honor or infamy.
Could we suppose that the bishop of Carthage had employed the profession
of the Christian faith only as the instrument of his avarice or ambition,
it was still incumbent on him to support the character he had assumed; and
if he possessed the smallest degree of manly fortitude, rather to expose
himself to the most cruel tortures, than by a single act to exchange the
reputation of a whole life, for the abhorrence of his Christian brethren,
and the contempt of the Gentile world. But if the zeal of Cyprian was
supported by the sincere conviction of the truth of those doctrines which
he preached, the crown of martyrdom must have appeared to him as an object
of desire rather than of terror. It is not easy to extract any distinct
ideas from the vague though eloquent declamations of the Fathers, or to
ascertain the degree of immortal glory and happiness which they
confidently promised to those who were so fortunate as to shed their blood
in the cause of religion. They inculcated with becoming diligence, that
the fire of martyrdom supplied every defect and expiated every sin; that
while the souls of ordinary Christians were obliged to pass through a slow
and painful purification, the triumphant sufferers entered into the
immediate fruition of eternal bliss, where, in the society of the
patriarchs, the apostles, and the prophets, they reigned with Christ, and
acted as his assessors in the universal judgment of mankind. The assurance
of a lasting reputation upon earth, a motive so congenial to the vanity of
human nature, often served to animate the courage of the martyrs. The
honors which Rome or Athens bestowed on those citizens who had fallen in
the cause of their country, were cold and unmeaning demonstrations of
respect, when compared with the ardent gratitude and devotion which the
primitive church expressed towards the victorious champions of the faith.
The annual commemoration of their virtues and sufferings was observed as a
sacred ceremony, and at length terminated in religious worship. Among the
Christians who had publicly confessed their religious principles, those
who (as it very frequently happened) had been dismissed from the tribunal
or the prisons of the Pagan magistrates, obtained such honors as were
justly due to their imperfect martyrdom and their generous resolution. The
most pious females courted the permission of imprinting kisses on the
fetters which they had worn, and on the wounds which they had received.
Their persons were esteemed holy, their decisions were admitted with
deference, and they too often abused, by their spiritual pride and
licentious manners, the preeminence which their zeal and intrepidity had
acquired. Distinctions like these, whilst they display the exalted merit,
betray the inconsiderable number of those who suffered, and of those who
died, for the profession of Christianity.
The sober discretion of the present age will more readily censure than
admire, but can more easily admire than imitate, the fervor of the first
Christians, who, according to the lively expressions of Sulpicius Severus,
desired martyrdom with more eagerness than his own contemporaries
solicited a bishopric. The epistles which Ignatius composed as he was
carried in chains through the cities of Asia, breathe sentiments the most
repugnant to the ordinary feelings of human nature. He earnestly beseeches
the Romans, that when he should be exposed in the amphitheatre, they would
not, by their kind but unseasonable intercession, deprive him of the crown
of glory; and he declares his resolution to provoke and irritate the wild
beasts which might be employed as the instruments of his death. Some
stories are related of the courage of martyrs, who actually performed what
Ignatius had intended; who exasperated the fury of the lions, pressed the
executioner to hasten his office, cheerfully leaped into the fires which
were kindled to consume them, and discovered a sensation of joy and
pleasure in the midst of the most exquisite tortures. Several examples
have been preserved of a zeal impatient of those restraints which the
emperors had provided for the security of the church. The Christians
sometimes supplied by their voluntary declaration the want of an accuser,
rudely disturbed the public service of paganism, and rushing in crowds
round the tribunal of the magistrates, called upon them to pronounce and
to inflict the sentence of the law. The behavior of the Christians was too
remarkable to escape the notice of the ancient philosophers; but they seem
to have considered it with much less admiration than astonishment.
Incapable of conceiving the motives which sometimes transported the
fortitude of believers beyond the bounds of prudence or reason, they
treated such an eagerness to die as the strange result of obstinate
despair, of stupid insensibility, or of superstitious frenzy. "Unhappy
men!" exclaimed the proconsul Antoninus to the Christians of Asia;
"unhappy men! if you are thus weary of your lives, is it so difficult for
you to find ropes and precipices?" He was extremely cautious (as it is
observed by a learned and pious historian) of punishing men who had found
no accusers but themselves, the Imperial laws not having made any
provision for so unexpected a case: condemning therefore a few as a
warning to their brethren, he dismissed the multitude with indignation and
contempt. Notwithstanding this real or affected disdain, the intrepid
constancy of the faithful was productive of more salutary effects on those
minds which nature or grace had disposed for the easy reception of
religious truth. On these melancholy occasions, there were many among the
Gentiles who pitied, who admired, and who were converted. The generous
enthusiasm was communicated from the sufferer to the spectators; and the
blood of martyrs, according to a well-known observation, became the seed
of the church.
But although devotion had raised, and eloquence continued to inflame, this
fever of the mind, it insensibly gave way to the more natural hopes and
fears of the human heart, to the love of life, the apprehension of pain,
and the horror of dissolution. The more prudent rulers of the church found
themselves obliged to restrain the indiscreet ardor of their followers,
and to distrust a constancy which too often abandoned them in the hour of
trial. As the lives of the faithful became less mortified and austere,
they were every day less ambitious of the honors of martyrdom; and the
soldiers of Christ, instead of distinguishing themselves by voluntary
deeds of heroism, frequently deserted their post, and fled in confusion
before the enemy whom it was their duty to resist. There were three
methods, however, of escaping the flames of persecution, which were not
attended with an equal degree of guilt: first, indeed, was generally
allowed to be innocent; the second was of a doubtful, or at least of a
venial, nature; but the third implied a direct and criminal apostasy from
the Christian faith.
I. A modern inquisitor would hear with surprise, that whenever an
information was given to a Roman magistrate of any person within his
jurisdiction who had embraced the sect of the Christians, the charge was
communicated to the party accused, and that a convenient time was allowed
him to settle his domestic concerns, and to prepare an answer to the crime
which was imputed to him. If he entertained any doubt of his own
constancy, such a delay afforded him the opportunity of preserving his
life and honor by flight, of withdrawing himself into some obscure
retirement or some distant province, and of patiently expecting the return
of peace and security. A measure so consonant to reason was soon
authorized by the advice and example of the most holy prelates; and seems
to have been censured by few except by the Montanists, who deviated into
heresy by their strict and obstinate adherence to the rigor of ancient
discipline. II. The provincial governors, whose zeal was less prevalent
than their avarice, had countenanced the practice of selling certificates,
(or libels, as they were called,) which attested, that the persons therein
mentioned had complied with the laws, and sacrificed to the Roman deities.
By producing these false declarations, the opulent and timid Christians
were enabled to silence the malice of an informer, and to reconcile in
some measure their safety with their religion. A slight penance atoned for
this profane dissimulation. * III. In every persecution there were great
numbers of unworthy Christians who publicly disowned or renounced the
faith which they had professed; and who confirmed the sincerity of their
abjuration, by the legal acts of burning incense or of offering
sacrifices. Some of these apostates had yielded on the first menace or
exhortation of the magistrate; whilst the patience of others had been
subdued by the length and repetition of tortures. The affrighted
countenances of some betrayed their inward remorse, while others advanced
with confidence and alacrity to the altars of the gods. But the disguise
which fear had imposed, subsisted no longer than the present danger. As
soon as the severity of the persecution was abated, the doors of the
churches were assailed by the returning multitude of penitents who
detested their idolatrous submission, and who solicited with equal ardor,
but with various success, their readmission into the society of
Christians.
IV. Notwithstanding the general rules established for the conviction and
punishment of the Christians, the fate of those sectaries, in an extensive
and arbitrary government, must still in a great measure, have depended on
their own behavior, the circumstances of the times, and the temper of
their supreme as well as subordinate rulers. Zeal might sometimes provoke,
and prudence might sometimes avert or assuage, the superstitious fury of
the Pagans. A variety of motives might dispose the provincial governors
either to enforce or to relax the execution of the laws; and of these
motives the most forcible was their regard not only for the public edicts,
but for the secret intentions of the emperor, a glance from whose eye was
sufficient to kindle or to extinguish the flames of persecution. As often
as any occasional severities were exercised in the different parts of the
empire, the primitive Christians lamented and perhaps magnified their own
sufferings; but the celebrated number of ten persecutions has been
determined by the ecclesiastical writers of the fifth century, who
possessed a more distinct view of the prosperous or adverse fortunes of
the church, from the age of Nero to that of Diocletian. The ingenious
parallels of the ten plagues of Egypt, and of the ten horns of the
Apocalypse, first suggested this calculation to their minds; and in their
application of the faith of prophecy to the truth of history, they were
careful to select those reigns which were indeed the most hostile to the
Christian cause. But these transient persecutions served only to revive
the zeal and to restore the discipline of the faithful; and the moments of
extraordinary rigor were compensated by much longer intervals of peace and
security. The indifference of some princes, and the indulgence of others,
permitted the Christians to enjoy, though not perhaps a legal, yet an
actual and public, toleration of their religion.
The apology of Tertullian contains two very ancient, very singular, but at
the same time very suspicious, instances of Imperial clemency; the edicts
published by Tiberius, and by Marcus Antoninus, and designed not only to
protect the innocence of the Christians, but even to proclaim those
stupendous miracles which had attested the truth of their doctrine. The
first of these examples is attended with some difficulties which might
perplex a sceptical mind. We are required to believe, that
Pontius Pilate informed the emperor of the unjust sentence of death which
he had pronounced against an innocent, and, as it appeared, a divine,
person; and that, without acquiring the merit, he exposed himself to the
danger of martyrdom; that Tiberius, who avowed
his contempt for all religion, immediately conceived the design of placing
the Jewish Messiah among the gods of Rome; that
his servile senate ventured to disobey the commands of their master;
that Tiberius, instead of resenting their
refusal, contented himself with protecting the Christians from the
severity of the laws, many years before such laws were enacted, or before
the church had assumed any distinct name or existence; and lastly, that
the memory of this extraordinary transaction was preserved in the most
public and authentic records, which escaped the knowledge of the
historians of Greece and Rome, and were only visible to the eyes of an
African Christian, who composed his apology one hundred and sixty years
after the death of Tiberius. The edict of Marcus Antoninus is supposed to
have been the effect of his devotion and gratitude for the miraculous
deliverance which he had obtained in the Marcomannic war. The distress of
the legions, the seasonable tempest of rain and hail, of thunder and of
lightning, and the dismay and defeat of the barbarians, have been
celebrated by the eloquence of several Pagan writers. If there were any
Christians in that army, it was natural that they should ascribe some
merit to the fervent prayers, which, in the moment of danger, they had
offered up for their own and the public safety. But we are still assured
by monuments of brass and marble, by the Imperial medals, and by the
Antonine column, that neither the prince nor the people entertained any
sense of this signal obligation, since they unanimously attribute their
deliverance to the providence of Jupiter, and to the interposition of
Mercury. During the whole course of his reign, Marcus despised the
Christians as a philosopher, and punished them as a sovereign. *
By a singular fatality, the hardships which they had endured under the
government of a virtuous prince, immediately ceased on the accession of a
tyrant; and as none except themselves had experienced the injustice of
Marcus, so they alone were protected by the lenity of Commodus. The
celebrated Marcia, the most favored of his concubines, and who at length
contrived the murder of her Imperial lover, entertained a singular
affection for the oppressed church; and though it was impossible that she
could reconcile the practice of vice with the precepts of the gospel, she
might hope to atone for the frailties of her sex and profession by
declaring herself the patroness of the Christians. Under the gracious
protection of Marcia, they passed in safety the thirteen years of a cruel
tyranny; and when the empire was established in the house of Severus, they
formed a domestic but more honorable connection with the new court. The
emperor was persuaded, that in a dangerous sickness, he had derived some
benefit, either spiritual or physical, from the holy oil, with which one
of his slaves had anointed him. He always treated with peculiar
distinction several persons of both sexes who had embraced the new
religion. The nurse as well as the preceptor of Caracalla were Christians;
* and if that young prince ever betrayed a sentiment of humanity, it was
occasioned by an incident, which, however trifling, bore some relation to
the cause of Christianity. Under the reign of Severus, the fury of the
populace was checked; the rigor of ancient laws was for some time
suspended; and the provincial governors were satisfied with receiving an
annual present from the churches within their jurisdiction, as the price,
or as the reward, of their moderation. The controversy concerning the
precise time of the celebration of Easter, armed the bishops of Asia and
Italy against each other, and was considered as the most important
business of this period of leisure and tranquillity. Nor was the peace of
the church interrupted, till the increasing numbers of proselytes seem at
length to have attracted the attention, and to have alienated the mind of
Severus. With the design of restraining the progress of Christianity, he
published an edict, which, though it was designed to affect only the new
converts, could not be carried into strict execution, without exposing to
danger and punishment the most zealous of their teachers and missionaries.
In this mitigated persecution we may still discover the indulgent spirit
of Rome and of Polytheism, which so readily admitted every excuse in favor
of those who practised the religious ceremonies of their fathers.
But the laws which Severus had enacted soon expired with the authority of
that emperor; and the Christians, after this accidental tempest, enjoyed a
calm of thirty-eight years. Till this period they had usually held their
assemblies in private houses and sequestered places. They were now
permitted to erect and consecrate convenient edifices for the purpose of
religious worship; to purchase lands, even at Rome itself, for the use of
the community; and to conduct the elections of their ecclesiastical
ministers in so public, but at the same time in so exemplary a manner, as
to deserve the respectful attention of the Gentiles. This long repose of
the church was accompanied with dignity. The reigns of those princes who
derived their extraction from the Asiatic provinces, proved the most
favorable to the Christians; the eminent persons of the sect, instead of
being reduced to implore the protection of a slave or concubine, were
admitted into the palace in the honorable characters of priests and
philosophers; and their mysterious doctrines, which were already diffused
among the people, insensibly attracted the curiosity of their sovereign.
When the empress Mammæa passed through Antioch, she expressed a
desire of conversing with the celebrated Origen, the fame of whose piety
and learning was spread over the East. Origen obeyed so flattering an
invitation, and though he could not expect to succeed in the conversion of
an artful and ambitious woman, she listened with pleasure to his eloquent
exhortations, and honorably dismissed him to his retirement in Palestine.
The sentiments of Mammæa were adopted by her son Alexander, and the
philosophic devotion of that emperor was marked by a singular but
injudicious regard for the Christian religion. In his domestic chapel he
placed the statues of Abraham, of Orpheus, of Apollonius, and of Christ,
as an honor justly due to those respectable sages who had instructed
mankind in the various modes of addressing their homage to the supreme and
universal Deity. A purer faith, as well as worship, was openly professed
and practised among his household. Bishops, perhaps for the first time,
were seen at court; and, after the death of Alexander, when the inhuman
Maximin discharged his fury on the favorites and servants of his
unfortunate benefactor, a great number of Christians of every rank and of
both sexes, were involved the promiscuous massacre, which, on their
account, has improperly received the name of Persecution. *
Notwithstanding the cruel disposition of Maximin, the effects of his
resentment against the Christians were of a very local and temporary
nature, and the pious Origen, who had been proscribed as a devoted victim,
was still reserved to convey the truths of the gospel to the ear of
monarchs. He addressed several edifying letters to the emperor Philip, to
his wife, and to his mother; and as soon as that prince, who was born in
the neighborhood of Palestine, had usurped the Imperial sceptre, the
Christians acquired a friend and a protector. The public and even partial
favor of Philip towards the sectaries of the new religion, and his
constant reverence for the ministers of the church, gave some color to the
suspicion, which prevailed in his own times, that the emperor himself was
become a convert to the faith; and afforded some grounds for a fable which
was afterwards invented, that he had been purified by confession and
penance from the guilt contracted by the murder of his innocent
predecessor. The fall of Philip introduced, with the change of masters, a
new system of government, so oppressive to the Christians, that their
former condition, ever since the time of Domitian, was represented as a
state of perfect freedom and security, if compared with the rigorous
treatment which they experienced under the short reign of Decius. The
virtues of that prince will scarcely allow us to suspect that he was
actuated by a mean resentment against the favorites of his predecessor;
and it is more reasonable to believe, that in the prosecution of his
general design to restore the purity of Roman manners, he was desirous of
delivering the empire from what he condemned as a recent and criminal
superstition. The bishops of the most considerable cities were removed by
exile or death: the vigilance of the magistrates prevented the clergy of
Rome during sixteen months from proceeding to a new election; and it was
the opinion of the Christians, that the emperor would more patiently
endure a competitor for the purple, than a bishop in the capital. Were it
possible to suppose that the penetration of Decius had discovered pride
under the disguise of humility, or that he could foresee the temporal
dominion which might insensibly arise from the claims of spiritual
authority, we might be less surprised, that he should consider the
successors of St. Peter, as the most formidable rivals to those of
Augustus.
The administration of Valerian was distinguished by a levity and
inconstancy ill suited to the gravity of the Roman Censor.
In the first part of his reign, he surpassed in clemency those princes who
had been suspected of an attachment to the Christian faith. In the last
three years and a half, listening to the insinuations of a minister
addicted to the superstitions of Egypt, he adopted the maxims, and
imitated the severity, of his predecessor Decius. The accession of
Gallienus, which increased the calamities of the empire, restored peace to
the church; and the Christians obtained the free exercise of their
religion by an edict addressed to the bishops, and conceived in such terms
as seemed to acknowledge their office and public character. The ancient
laws, without being formally repealed, were suffered to sink into
oblivion; and (excepting only some hostile intentions which are attributed
to the emperor Aurelian ) the disciples of Christ passed above forty years
in a state of prosperity, far more dangerous to their virtue than the
severest trials of persecution.
The story of Paul of Samosata, who filled the metropolitan see of Antioch,
while the East was in the hands of Odenathus and Zenobia, may serve to
illustrate the condition and character of the times. The wealth of that
prelate was a sufficient evidence of his guilt, since it was neither
derived from the inheritance of his fathers, nor acquired by the arts of
honest industry. But Paul considered the service of the church as a very
lucrative profession. His ecclesiastical jurisdiction was venal and
rapacious; he extorted frequent contributions from the most opulent of the
faithful, and converted to his own use a considerable part of the public
revenue. By his pride and luxury, the Christian religion was rendered
odious in the eyes of the Gentiles. His council chamber and his throne,
the splendor with which he appeared in public, the suppliant crowd who
solicited his attention, the multitude of letters and petitions to which
he dictated his answers, and the perpetual hurry of business in which he
was involved, were circumstances much better suited to the state of a
civil magistrate, than to the humility of a primitive bishop. When he
harangued his people from the pulpit, Paul affected the figurative style
and the theatrical gestures of an Asiatic sophist, while the cathedral
resounded with the loudest and most extravagant acclamations in the praise
of his divine eloquence. Against those who resisted his power, or refused
to flatter his vanity, the prelate of Antioch was arrogant, rigid, and
inexorable; but he relaxed the discipline, and lavished the treasures of
the church on his dependent clergy, who were permitted to imitate their
master in the gratification of every sensual appetite. For Paul indulged
himself very freely in the pleasures of the table, and he had received
into the episcopal palace two young and beautiful women as the constant
companions of his leisure moments.
Notwithstanding these scandalous vices, if Paul of Samosata had preserved
the purity of the orthodox faith, his reign over the capital of Syria
would have ended only with his life; and had a seasonable persecution
intervened, an effort of courage might perhaps have placed him in the rank
of saints and martyrs. * Some nice and subtle errors, which he imprudently
adopted and obstinately maintained, concerning the doctrine of the
Trinity, excited the zeal and indignation of the Eastern churches. From
Egypt to the Euxine Sea, the bishops were in arms and in motion. Several
councils were held, confutations were published, excommunications were
pronounced, ambiguous explanations were by turns accepted and refused,
treaties were concluded and violated, and at length Paul of Samosata was
degraded from his episcopal character, by the sentence of seventy or
eighty bishops, who assembled for that purpose at Antioch, and who,
without consulting the rights of the clergy or people, appointed a
successor by their own authority. The manifest irregularity of this
proceeding increased the numbers of the discontented faction; and as Paul,
who was no stranger to the arts of courts, had insinuated himself into the
favor of Zenobia, he maintained above four years the possession of the
episcopal house and office. * The victory of Aurelian changed the face of
the East, and the two contending parties, who applied to each other the
epithets of schism and heresy, were either commanded or permitted to plead
their cause before the tribunal of the conqueror. This public and very
singular trial affords a convincing proof that the existence, the
property, the privileges, and the internal policy of the Christians, were
acknowledged, if not by the laws, at least by the magistrates, of the
empire. As a Pagan and as a soldier, it could scarcely be expected that
Aurelian should enter into the discussion, whether the sentiments of Paul
or those of his adversaries were most agreeable to the true standard of
the orthodox faith. His determination, however, was founded on the general
principles of equity and reason. He considered the bishops of Italy as the
most impartial and respectable judges among the Christians, and as soon as
he was informed that they had unanimously approved the sentence of the
council, he acquiesced in their opinion, and immediately gave orders that
Paul should be compelled to relinquish the temporal possessions belonging
to an office, of which, in the judgment of his brethren, he had been
regularly deprived. But while we applaud the justice, we should not
overlook the policy, of Aurelian, who was desirous of restoring and
cementing the dependence of the provinces on the capital, by every means
which could bind the interest or prejudices of any part of his subjects.
Amidst the frequent revolutions of the empire, the Christians still
flourished in peace and prosperity; and notwithstanding a celebrated
æra of martyrs has been deduced from the accession of Diocletian,
the new system of policy, introduced and maintained by the wisdom of that
prince, continued, during more than eighteen years, to breathe the mildest
and most liberal spirit of religious toleration. The mind of Diocletian
himself was less adapted indeed to speculative inquiries, than to the
active labors of war and government. His prudence rendered him averse to
any great innovation, and though his temper was not very susceptible of
zeal or enthusiasm, he always maintained an habitual regard for the
ancient deities of the empire. But the leisure of the two empresses, of
his wife Prisca, and of Valeria, his daughter, permitted them to listen
with more attention and respect to the truths of Christianity, which in
every age has acknowledged its important obligations to female devotion.
The principal eunuchs, Lucian and Dorotheus, Gorgonius and Andrew, who
attended the person, possessed the favor, and governed the household of
Diocletian, protected by their powerful influence the faith which they had
embraced. Their example was imitated by many of the most considerable
officers of the palace, who, in their respective stations, had the care of
the Imperial ornaments, of the robes, of the furniture, of the jewels, and
even of the private treasury; and, though it might sometimes be incumbent
on them to accompany the emperor when he sacrificed in the temple, they
enjoyed, with their wives, their children, and their slaves, the free
exercise of the Christian religion. Diocletian and his colleagues
frequently conferred the most important offices on those persons who
avowed their abhorrence for the worship of the gods, but who had displayed
abilities proper for the service of the state. The bishops held an
honorable rank in their respective provinces, and were treated with
distinction and respect, not only by the people, but by the magistrates
themselves. Almost in every city, the ancient churches were found
insufficient to contain the increasing multitude of proselytes; and in
their place more stately and capacious edifices were erected for the
public worship of the faithful. The corruption of manners and principles,
so forcibly lamented by Eusebius, may be considered, not only as a
consequence, but as a proof, of the liberty which the Christians enjoyed
and abused under the reign of Diocletian. Prosperity had relaxed the
nerves of discipline. Fraud, envy, and malice prevailed in every
congregation. The presbyters aspired to the episcopal office, which every
day became an object more worthy of their ambition. The bishops, who
contended with each other for ecclesiastical preeminence, appeared by
their conduct to claim a secular and tyrannical power in the church; and
the lively faith which still distinguished the Christians from the
Gentiles, was shown much less in their lives, than in their controversial
writings.
Notwithstanding this seeming security, an attentive observer might discern
some symptoms that threatened the church with a more violent persecution
than any which she had yet endured. The zeal and rapid progress of the
Christians awakened the Polytheists from their supine indifference in the
cause of those deities, whom custom and education had taught them to
revere. The mutual provocations of a religious war, which had already
continued above two hundred years, exasperated the animosity of the
contending parties. The Pagans were incensed at the rashness of a recent
and obscure sect, which presumed to accuse their countrymen of error, and
to devote their ancestors to eternal misery. The habits of justifying the
popular mythology against the invectives of an implacable enemy, produced
in their minds some sentiments of faith and reverence for a system which
they had been accustomed to consider with the most careless levity. The
supernatural powers assumed by the church inspired at the same time terror
and emulation. The followers of the established religion intrenched
themselves behind a similar fortification of prodigies; invented new modes
of sacrifice, of expiation, and of initiation; attempted to revive the
credit of their expiring oracles; and listened with eager credulity to
every impostor, who flattered their prejudices by a tale of wonders. Both
parties seemed to acknowledge the truth of those miracles which were
claimed by their adversaries; and while they were contented with ascribing
them to the arts of magic, and to the power of dæmons, they mutually
concurred in restoring and establishing the reign of superstition.
Philosophy, her most dangerous enemy, was now converted into her most
useful ally. The groves of the academy, the gardens of Epicurus, and even
the portico of the Stoics, were almost deserted, as so many different
schools of scepticism or impiety; and many among the Romans were desirous
that the writings of Cicero should be condemned and suppressed by the
authority of the senate. The prevailing sect of the new Platonicians
judged it prudent to connect themselves with the priests, whom perhaps
they despised, against the Christians, whom they had reason to fear. These
fashionable Philosophers prosecuted the design of extracting allegorical
wisdom from the fictions of the Greek poets; instituted mysterious rites
of devotion for the use of their chosen disciples; recommended the worship
of the ancient gods as the emblems or ministers of the Supreme Deity, and
composed against the faith of the gospel many elaborate treatises, which
have since been committed to the flames by the prudence of orthodox
emperors.
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 Cæsar. 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 Prætorian præfect,
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 Prætorian præfect
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 name 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.
Diocletian had no sooner published his edicts against the Christians,
than, as if he had been desirous of committing to other hands the work of
persecution, he divested himself of the Imperial purple. The character and
situation of his colleagues and successors sometimes urged them to enforce
and sometimes inclined them to suspend, the execution of these rigorous
laws; nor can we acquire a just and distinct idea of this important period
of ecclesiastical history, unless we separately consider the state of
Christianity, in the different parts of the empire, during the space of
ten years, which elapsed between the first edicts of Diocletian and the
final peace of the church.
The mild and humane temper of Constantius was averse to the oppression of
any part of his subjects. The principal offices of his palace were
exercised by Christians. He loved their persons, esteemed their fidelity,
and entertained not any dislike to their religious principles. But as long
as Constantius remained in the subordinate station of Cæsar, it was
not in his power openly to reject the edicts of Diocletian, or to disobey
the commands of Maximian. His authority contributed, however, to alleviate
the sufferings which he pitied and abhorred. He consented with reluctance
to the ruin of the churches; but he ventured to protect the Christians
themselves from the fury of the populace, and from the rigor of the laws.
The provinces of Gaul (under which we may probably include those of
Britain) were indebted for the singular tranquillity which they enjoyed,
to the gentle interposition of their sovereign. But Datianus, the
president or governor of Spain, actuated either by zeal or policy, chose
rather to execute the public edicts of the emperors, than to understand
the secret intentions of Constantius; and it can scarcely be doubted, that
his provincial administration was stained with the blood of a few martyrs.
The elevation of Constantius to the supreme and independent dignity of
Augustus, gave a free scope to the exercise of his virtues, and the
shortness of his reign did not prevent him from establishing a system of
toleration, of which he left the precept and the example to his son
Constantine. His fortunate son, from the first moment of his accession,
declaring himself the protector of the church, at length deserved the
appellation of the first emperor who publicly professed and established
the Christian religion. The motives of his conversion, as they may
variously be deduced from benevolence, from policy, from conviction, or
from remorse, and the progress of the revolution, which, under his
powerful influence and that of his sons, rendered Christianity the
reigning religion of the Roman empire, will form a very interesting and
important chapter in the present volume of this history. At present it may
be sufficient to observe, that every victory of Constantine was productive
of some relief or benefit to the church.
The provinces of Italy and Africa experienced a short but violent
persecution. The rigorous edicts of Diocletian were strictly and
cheerfully executed by his associate Maximian, who had long hated the
Christians, and who delighted in acts of blood and violence. In the autumn
of the first year of the persecution, the two emperors met at Rome to
celebrate their triumph; several oppressive laws appear to have issued
from their secret consultations, and the diligence of the magistrates was
animated by the presence of their sovereigns. After Diocletian had
divested himself of the purple, Italy and Africa were administered under
the name of Severus, and were exposed, without defence, to the implacable
resentment of his master Galerius. Among the martyrs of Rome, Adauctus
deserves the notice of posterity. He was of a noble family in Italy, and
had raised himself, through the successive honors of the palace, to the
important office of treasurer of the private Jemesnes. Adauctus is the
more remarkable for being the only person of rank and distinction who
appears to have suffered death, during the whole course of this general
persecution.
The revolt of Maxentius immediately restored peace to the churches of
Italy and Africa; and the same tyrant who oppressed every other class of
his subjects, showed himself just, humane, and even partial, towards the
afflicted Christians. He depended on their gratitude and affection, and
very naturally presumed, that the injuries which they had suffered, and
the dangers which they still apprehended from his most inveterate enemy,
would secure the fidelity of a party already considerable by their numbers
and opulence. Even the conduct of Maxentius towards the bishops of Rome
and Carthage may be considered as the proof of his toleration, since it is
probable that the most orthodox princes would adopt the same measures with
regard to their established clergy. Marcellus, the former of these
prelates, had thrown the capital into confusion, by the severe penance
which he imposed on a great number of Christians, who, during the late
persecution, had renounced or dissembled their religion. The rage of
faction broke out in frequent and violent seditions; the blood of the
faithful was shed by each other's hands, and the exile of Marcellus, whose
prudence seems to have been less eminent than his zeal, was found to be
the only measure capable of restoring peace to the distracted church of
Rome. The behavior of Mensurius, bishop of Carthage, appears to have been
still more reprehensible. A deacon of that city had published a libel
against the emperor. The offender took refuge in the episcopal palace; and
though it was somewhat early to advance any claims of ecclesiastical
immunities, the bishop refused to deliver him up to the officers of
justice. For this treasonable resistance, Mensurius was summoned to court,
and instead of receiving a legal sentence of death or banishment, he was
permitted, after a short examination, to return to his diocese. Such was
the happy condition of the Christian subjects of Maxentius, that whenever
they were desirous of procuring for their own use any bodies of martyrs,
they were obliged to purchase them from the most distant provinces of the
East. A story is related of Aglæ, a Roman lady, descended from a
consular family, and possessed of so ample an estate, that it required the
management of seventy-three stewards. Among these Boniface was the
favorite of his mistress; and as Aglæ mixed love with devotion, it
is reported that he was admitted to share her bed. Her fortune enabled her
to gratify the pious desire of obtaining some sacred relics from the East.
She intrusted Boniface with a considerable sum of gold, and a large
quantity of aromatics; and her lover, attended by twelve horsemen and
three covered chariots, undertook a remote pilgrimage, as far as Tarsus in
Cilicia.
The sanguinary temper of Galerius, the first and principal author of the
persecution, was formidable to those Christians whom their misfortunes had
placed within the limits of his dominions; and it may fairly be presumed
that many persons of a middle rank, who were not confined by the chains
either of wealth or of poverty, very frequently deserted their native
country, and sought a refuge in the milder climate of the West. As long as
he commanded only the armies and provinces of Illyricum, he could with
difficulty either find or make a considerable number of martyrs, in a
warlike country, which had entertained the missionaries of the gospel with
more coldness and reluctance than any other part of the empire. But when
Galerius had obtained the supreme power, and the government of the East,
he indulged in their fullest extent his zeal and cruelty, not only in the
provinces of Thrace and Asia, which acknowledged his immediate
jurisdiction, but in those of Syria, Palestine, and Egypt, where Maximin
gratified his own inclination, by yielding a rigorous obedience to the
stern commands of his benefactor. The frequent disappointments of his
ambitious views, the experience of six years of persecution, and the
salutary reflections which a lingering and painful distemper suggested to
the mind of Galerius, at length convinced him that the most violent
efforts of despotism are insufficient to extirpate a whole people, or to
subdue their religious prejudices. Desirous of repairing the mischief that
he had occasioned, he published in his own name, and in those of Licinius
and Constantine, a general edict, which, after a pompous recital of the
Imperial titles, proceeded in the following manner:—
"Among the important cares which have occupied our mind for the utility
and preservation of the empire, it was our intention to correct and
reestablish all things according to the ancient laws and public discipline
of the Romans. We were particularly desirous of reclaiming into the way of
reason and nature, the deluded Christians who had renounced the religion
and ceremonies instituted by their fathers; and presumptuously despising
the practice of antiquity, had invented extravagant laws and opinions,
according to the dictates of their fancy, and had collected a various
society from the different provinces of our empire. The edicts, which we
have published to enforce the worship of the gods, having exposed many of
the Christians to danger and distress, many having suffered death, and
many more, who still persist in their impious folly, being left destitute
of any public exercise of religion, we are
disposed to extend to those unhappy men the effects of our wonted
clemency. We permit them therefore freely to profess their private
opinions, and to assemble in their conventicles without fear or
molestation, provided always that they preserve a due respect to the
established laws and government. By another rescript we shall signify our
intentions to the judges and magistrates; and we hope that our indulgence
will engage the Christians to offer up their prayers to the Deity whom
they adore, for our safety and prosperity for their own, and for that of
the republic." It is not usually in the language of edicts and manifestos
that we should search for the real character or the secret motives of
princes; but as these were the words of a dying emperor, his situation,
perhaps, may be admitted as a pledge of his sincerity.
When Galerius subscribed this edict of toleration, he was well assured
that Licinius would readily comply with the inclinations of his friend and
benefactor, and that any measures in favor of the Christians would obtain
the approbation of Constantine. But the emperor would not venture to
insert in the preamble the name of Maximin, whose consent was of the
greatest importance, and who succeeded a few days afterwards to the
provinces of Asia. In the first six months, however, of his new reign,
Maximin affected to adopt the prudent counsels of his predecessor; and
though he never condescended to secure the tranquillity of the church by a
public edict, Sabinus, his Prætorian præfect, addressed a
circular letter to all the governors and magistrates of the provinces,
expatiating on the Imperial clemency, acknowledging the invincible
obstinacy of the Christians, and directing the officers of justice to
cease their ineffectual prosecutions, and to connive at the secret
assemblies of those enthusiasts. In consequence of these orders, great
numbers of Christians were released from prison, or delivered from the
mines. The confessors, singing hymns of triumph, returned into their own
countries; and those who had yielded to the violence of the tempest,
solicited with tears of repentance their readmission into the bosom of the
church.
But this treacherous calm was of short duration; nor could the Christians
of the East place any confidence in the character of their sovereign.
Cruelty and superstition were the ruling passions of the soul of Maximin.
The former suggested the means, the latter pointed out the objects of
persecution. The emperor was devoted to the worship of the gods, to the
study of magic, and to the belief of oracles. The prophets or
philosophers, whom he revered as the favorites of Heaven, were frequently
raised to the government of provinces, and admitted into his most secret
councils. They easily convinced him that the Christians had been indebted
for their victories to their regular discipline, and that the weakness of
polytheism had principally flowed from a want of union and subordination
among the ministers of religion. A system of government was therefore
instituted, which was evidently copied from the policy of the church. In
all the great cities of the empire, the temples were repaired and
beautified by the order of Maximin, and the officiating priests of the
various deities were subjected to the authority of a superior pontiff
destined to oppose the bishop, and to promote the cause of paganism. These
pontiffs acknowledged, in their turn, the supreme jurisdiction of the
metropolitans or high priests of the province, who acted as the immediate
vicegerents of the emperor himself. A white robe was the ensign of their
dignity; and these new prelates were carefully selected from the most
noble and opulent families. By the influence of the magistrates, and of
the sacerdotal order, a great number of dutiful addresses were obtained,
particularly from the cities of Nicomedia, Antioch, and Tyre, which
artfully represented the well-known intentions of the court as the general
sense of the people; solicited the emperor to consult the laws of justice
rather than the dictates of his clemency; expressed their abhorrence of
the Christians, and humbly prayed that those impious sectaries might at
least be excluded from the limits of their respective territories. The
answer of Maximin to the address which he obtained from the citizens of
Tyre is still extant. He praises their zeal and devotion in terms of the
highest satisfaction, descants on the obstinate impiety of the Christians,
and betrays, by the readiness with which he consents to their banishment,
that he considered himself as receiving, rather than as conferring, an
obligation. The priests as well as the magistrates were empowered to
enforce the execution of his edicts, which were engraved on tables of
brass; and though it was recommended to them to avoid the effusion of
blood, the most cruel and ignominious punishments were inflicted on the
refractory Christians.
The Asiatic Christians had every thing to dread from the severity of a
bigoted monarch who prepared his measures of violence with such deliberate
policy. But a few months had scarcely elapsed before the edicts published
by the two Western emperors obliged Maximin to suspend the prosecution of
his designs: the civil war which he so rashly undertook against Licinius
employed all his attention; and the defeat and death of Maximin soon
delivered the church from the last and most implacable of her enemies.
In this general view of the persecution, which was first authorized by the
edicts of Diocletian, I have purposely refrained from describing the
particular sufferings and deaths of the Christian martyrs. It would have
been an easy task, from the history of Eusebius, from the declamations of
Lactantius, and from the most ancient acts, to collect a long series of
horrid and disgustful pictures, and to fill many pages with racks and
scourges, with iron hooks and red-hot beds, and with all the variety of
tortures which fire and steel, savage beasts, and more savage
executioners, could inflict upon the human body. These melancholy scenes
might be enlivened by a crowd of visions and miracles destined either to
delay the death, to celebrate the triumph, or to discover the relics of
those canonized saints who suffered for the name of Christ. But I cannot
determine what I ought to transcribe, till I am satisfied how much I ought
to believe. The gravest of the ecclesiastical historians, Eusebius
himself, indirectly confesses, that he has related whatever might redound
to the glory, and that he has suppressed all that could tend to the
disgrace, of religion. Such an acknowledgment will naturally excite a
suspicion that a writer who has so openly violated one of the fundamental
laws of history, has not paid a very strict regard to the observance of
the other; and the suspicion will derive additional credit from the
character of Eusebius, * which was less tinctured with credulity, and more
practised in the arts of courts, than that of almost any of his
contemporaries. On some particular occasions, when the magistrates were
exasperated by some personal motives of interest or resentment, the rules
of prudence, and perhaps of decency, to overturn the altars, to pour out
imprecations against the emperors, or to strike the judge as he sat on his
tribunal, it may be presumed, that every mode of torture which cruelty
could invent, or constancy could endure, was exhausted on those devoted
victims. Two circumstances, however, have been unwarily mentioned, which
insinuate that the general treatment of the Christians, who had been
apprehended by the officers of justice, was less intolerable than it is
usually imagined to have been. 1. The confessors who were condemned to
work in the mines were permitted by the humanity or the negligence of
their keepers to build chapels, and freely to profess their religion in
the midst of those dreary habitations. 2. The bishops were obliged to
check and to censure the forward zeal of the Christians, who voluntarily
threw themselves into the hands of the magistrates. Some of these were
persons oppressed by poverty and debts, who blindly sought to terminate a
miserable existence by a glorious death. Others were allured by the hope
that a short confinement would expiate the sins of a whole life; and
others again were actuated by the less honorable motive of deriving a
plentiful subsistence, and perhaps a considerable profit, from the alms
which the charity of the faithful bestowed on the prisoners. After the
church had triumphed over all her enemies, the interest as well as vanity
of the captives prompted them to magnify the merit of their respective
sufferings. A convenient distance of time or place gave an ample scope to
the progress of fiction; and the frequent instances which might be alleged
of holy martyrs, whose wounds had been instantly healed, whose strength
had been renewed, and whose lost members had miraculously been restored,
were extremely convenient for the purpose of removing every difficulty,
and of silencing every objection. The most extravagant legends, as they
conduced to the honor of the church, were applauded by the credulous
multitude, countenanced by the power of the clergy, and attested by the
suspicious evidence of ecclesiastical history.