The Triumph of Christianity: 306–325 AD

The War Between Church and State: 64–311 AD

In the pre-Christian era, the Roman government generally showed tolerance toward rival cults of the official pagan religion, and these cults in turn showed the same tolerance toward official rites and the emperor. From followers of new religions nothing was expected except, when necessary, a gesture of worship toward the gods and the head of state. It weighed heavily on the emperors that, of all the subjects under their rule, only Christians and Jews refused to venerate the “genius” of the emperor. Burning incense before a statue of the emperor had become a sign of approval and loyalty to the empire, just as today swearing an oath of loyalty is required for acceptance as a citizen. On the other hand, the Church also condemned the Roman view that religion should be subordinate to the state; it considered the worship of the emperor a pagan and idolatrous act and instructed its followers to refrain from it at any cost. The Roman state concluded that Christianity was a radical—and perhaps communist—movement whose aim was to subtly overthrow the existing order.

Before Nero these two forces had found it possible to coexist without conflict. The law had exempted Jews from emperor worship, and Christians, who were at first confused with Jews, enjoyed this privilege. But the execution of Peter and Paul, and the burning of Christians to illuminate Nero’s games, turned this mutual and arrogant tolerance into constant hostility and intermittent wars. It is not surprising that after such provocations Christians turned their entire arsenal against Rome—condemning its moral corruption and idolatry, mocking its gods, rejoicing in its misfortunes, and predicting its imminent fall.

Christians, with the zeal of a faith sharpened by fanatical treatment, declared that whoever had the opportunity to believe in Christ and did not would suffer eternal torment; many of them considered eternal torment the fate of all pre-Christian humanity and non-Christians in the world; some made an exception only for Socrates. Pagans in turn called Christians “the dregs of the people” and “arrogant barbarians,” accused them of “hatred of the human race,” and attributed the empire’s misfortunes to the anger of their own gods at allowing these insulting Christians to live in the empire. Each side invented a thousand shameful legends about the other. Christians were accused of practicing devilish sorcery, secretly engaging in immoral acts, drinking human blood at Easter, and worshiping a donkey.

But the conflict went deeper than mere invective. Pagan civilization rested on the foundation of the state, while Christian civilization rested on the foundation of religion. For a Roman, his religion was part of the structure and ceremonies of government, and the height of morality in his view was patriotism. For a Christian, his religion was something separate and superior to the political community, and the highest loyalty belonged not to Caesar but to Christ. Tertullian laid down this revolutionary principle: no one is obliged to obey a law he considers unjust. The Christian individual showed far more respect to his bishop, and even to his priest, than to a Roman official; he referred legal disputes with other Christians to the authorities of his own Church rather than to state courts. The withdrawal of Christians from worldly affairs appeared to pagans as shirking civic duty and weakening the fabric and will of the nation. Tertullian advised Christians to refuse military service; and Celsus’s demand to end this refusal, and Origen’s reply that Christians, if they do not fight for the empire, pray for it instead, shows that many followed this advice. Christians were encouraged by their leaders to avoid non-Christians and to boycott their games as savage and their theaters as a seasoning of moral corruption. Marriage with non-Christians was forbidden, and Christian slaves were accused of sowing discord in families by drawing the children or wives of their masters to the Christian faith. It was said that Christianity was destroying family hearths.

Opposition to the new religion came more from the people than from the government. Roman officials were often educated and open-minded men, but the pagan masses were repelled by the Christians’ aloofness, sense of superiority, and certainty, and demanded that the authorities punish these atheists who showed disrespect to the gods. Tertullian notices this point and speaks of “the general hatred of the people toward us.” Apparently, since the time of Nero, confessing to being Christian was a major crime in Roman law, but under most emperors this law was deliberately applied with tolerance. An accused Christian could usually free himself by offering incense to the emperor’s statue, and afterward was practically allowed to continue practicing his beliefs without disturbance. Christians who refused this act were imprisoned, flogged, exiled, condemned to hard labor in the mines, or, of course rarely, killed. Domitian is said to have expelled some Christians from Rome, but Tertullian says: “Because he was somewhat human, he soon stopped this and recalled the exiles.”

Pliny, if we judge by his letter to Trajan, carried out the law in 111 with excessive zeal for an amateur. In this letter he writes:

In the case of those who were denounced to me as Christians, I have followed this method: I asked them whether they were Christians. If they admitted it, I repeated the question a second and third time, threatening them with execution. If they persisted, I ordered them to be executed... The temples, which had been almost completely deserted, have begun to be frequented again... and the sacrificial animals, which for some time had found no buyers, have begun to find a market.

Trajan replied to him:

My dear Pliny, the method you have followed in investigating the cases of those denounced to you as Christians is entirely correct... There is no need to “search for these persons.” When they are denounced and found guilty, they must be punished, but when the accused denies being Christian and proves it by worshiping our gods, he must be pardoned... Any information that does not mention the name of the accuser should not be accepted as evidence against anyone.

From the phrases placed in quotation marks above, it appears that Trajan was reluctantly enforcing existing regulations. Nevertheless, during his reign two eminent Christians were martyred: one was Simeon, head of the Church of Jerusalem, and the other Ignatius, bishop of Antioch; presumably there were others who were not famous.

Hadrian, a skeptic compatible with every idea, instructed his officials to observe the principle of presumption of innocence toward Christians. Antoninus, being more religious, permitted more persecution. In Smyrna, the common people demanded that Philip the Asiarch enforce the law; he complied by killing eleven Christians in the amphitheater (155 AD). These executions not only calmed the people but made them thirstier for blood. They now demanded the execution of Bishop Polycarp, a holy man eighty-six years old who was said to have been a companion of the Apostle John in his youth. Roman soldiers found this old man in a retreat in the suburbs of the city. They brought him without resistance to the presence of the Asiarch, who was busy watching the games. Philip pressed him: “Swear, curse Christ, and I will let you go.” The oldest Acts of the Martyrs record that Polycarp replied: “For eighty-six years I have served him and he has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my king who has been the cause of my salvation?” The crowd shouted that he should be burned alive. In this pious document it is related that the flames refused to burn him, “but he was in the midst of them like bread in an oven, and we smelled an odor like that of incense or other precious spices. Finally the unbelievers ordered an executioner to plunge a dagger into his body. When he did so, a white dove flew from the wound and so much blood came that the fire was extinguished and the whole crowd was astonished.”

In the time of Marcus Aurelius, this saintly emperor, the persecution of Christians began anew. When famine, floods, epidemics, and war overwhelmed this previously blessed reign, the opinion spread that these calamities resulted from neglecting and abandoning the Roman gods. Marcus Aurelius shared or yielded to the people’s terror. In 177 he issued an edict ordering the punishment of sects that caused disturbance by “stirring the minds of unbalanced persons” with various new doctrines. In the same year, in Vienne and Lyon, the pagan common people rose against the Christians, and whenever Christians dared to leave their homes they were stoned. The emperor’s legislative council ordered the arrest of the leaders of the Christians of Lyon. Pothinus, the ninety-year-old bishop, died from torture in prison. A messenger was sent to Rome to ask the emperor how to deal with the other prisoners. Marcus Aurelius replied that those who denied Christ should be freed, but those who continued to confess Christianity should be executed according to the law.

The annual celebration of the Augustalia in the city of Lyon was approaching. Delegates from all parts of Gaul came there in groups. In the midst of the games, the accused Christians were brought to the amphitheater and interrogated. Those who denied were freed. Forty-seven who persisted were killed with various and cruel tortures, which were only later equaled in the era of the Inquisition. Attalus, the senior after Pothinus among the Christian community, was forced to sit on an iron chair heated red-hot, and was thus roasted until he died. Blandina, a young slave girl, was tortured for a whole day, then put in a bag and thrown into the arena to be killed by the horns of a bull. Her quiet endurance convinced many Christians that Christ made his martyrs insensible to pain; such a thing may have been the product of fear and ecstasy. Tertullian said: “Christians even when condemned to death give thanks.”

In the time of Commodus the torture and persecution decreased. Septimius Severus renewed it to the point that he considered baptism a crime. In 203 many Christians were martyred in Carthage. One of them, a young mother named Perpetua, left a moving account of her imprisonment and of her father’s pleas pressing her to abandon Christianity. She and another young mother were thrown before a wild bull to be torn apart by its horns. A sign of the numbing effect of fear and terror is seen in Perpetua’s last plea: “When shall we be thrown before the bull?” The story relates how this woman guided the gladiator’s dagger, which was to kill her and which he was reluctant to use, toward her own throat. The Syrian queens (of Palmyra) who succeeded Septimius had little interest in the Roman gods and tolerated the Christians with indifference. In the time of Alexander Severus an apparent peace was established among all rival cults.

The renewed barbarian attacks ended this truce. To understand the persecution in the time of Decius (or Aurelian) one must imagine a nation in the grip of full war excitement, terrified by severe defeats, and expecting enemy invasion. In 249 a wave of religious excitement swept the entire empire. Men and women flocked to the temples and besieged the gods with their prayers. In the midst of this patriotic fever and terror, Christians withdrew, continued to refuse and condemn military service, mocked the gods, and interpreted the collapse of the empire as the predicted prelude to the destruction of “Babylon” and the return of Christ. Decius, using the people’s spirit as an opportunity to strengthen national zeal and consolidate unity, issued an edict requiring every inhabitant of the country to perform an expiatory act of worship before the Roman gods. Christians were not asked to abandon their beliefs, but were commanded to be present at the public “supplication” ceremonies before the gods, because, in the opinion of the common people, these same gods had repeatedly saved Rome from danger. Most Christians obeyed. In Alexandria, according to the account of Bishop Dionysius of that city, “apostasy was general,” as also in Carthage and Smyrna. Perhaps these Christians considered the “supplication” a patriotic formality. But the bishops of Jerusalem and Antioch died in prison, and the bishops of Rome and Toulouse were killed (250 AD). Hundreds of Roman Christians were crowded into dungeons, others were beheaded, some were burned on pyres of wood, and some were thrown to wild animals during the festivals. After one year the intensity of the unified persecution decreased and by Easter of 251 it had practically ended.

Six years later Valerian, in another crisis of barbarian invasion and terror, ordered that “all must behave according to Roman rites,” and declared all Christian assemblies illegal. Pope Sixtus II resisted and was killed with four of his deacons. Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, was beheaded, and the bishop of Tarragona was burned alive. In 261, after the Iranians removed Valerian from the scene, Gallienus issued the first edict of religious tolerance, recognized Christianity as a permitted religion, and ordered the return of property taken from Christians. For the next forty years some persecution still existed, but on the whole this was a period of unprecedented calm and rapid expansion for Christianity. In the chaos and terror of the third century, people turned away from the weakened state and sought consolation in religion, and they found these consolations more in Christianity than in its rival cults. The Church from then on converted the wealthy to Christianity, built large and expensive churches, and allowed its believers to enjoy the joys of this world. Religious hatred and enmity among the people subsided, Christians freely mingled with pagans, and even married them. Diocletian’s Eastern-style monarchy apparently aimed to establish religious security and peace as well as political security and peace.

Nevertheless, Galerius considered Christianity the last obstacle to absolute government and pressed Diocletian to revive the Roman gods and thereby revive the empire. Diocletian hesitated. He did not like useless risks and assessed the consequences and importance of the action more correctly than Galerius. But one day, during a grand sacrificial ceremony, Christians made the sign of the cross to ward off evil spirits. When the soothsayers failed to find in the livers of the sacrificed animals the signs they hoped to interpret, they attributed the fault to the presence of infidels and atheists. Diocletian ordered that all present should sacrifice to the gods and, if they refused, be flogged, and that all soldiers in the army should behave according to these instructions or be dismissed (302 AD). Remarkably, Christian writers agreed with the pagan priests on this point: Lactantius said that the prayers of Christians kept the Roman gods away; and Bishop Dionysius had written something similar a generation earlier. Galerius at every opportunity defended the necessity of religious unity for supporting the new monarchy. Finally Diocletian yielded. In February 303 all four rulers ordered that all Christian churches be destroyed, all Christian books burned, all Christian assemblies dissolved, their property confiscated, all Christians dismissed from public offices, and Christians seen in a religious assembly executed. A group of soldiers began the persecution by burning and destroying the great church of Nicomedia.

The number of Christians was now sufficient for them to respond in kind. In Syria a revolutionary movement broke out, and in Nicomedia arsonists twice set fire to Diocletian’s palace. Galerius accused the Christians of starting this deliberate fire; and the Christians in turn accused him. Hundreds of Christians were arrested and tortured, but their guilt was never proven. In September, Diocletian ordered that imprisoned Christians be freed if they worshiped the Roman gods, but those who refused should be subjected to all the tortures that existed in Rome. Disturbed by so much insulting resistance, he commissioned all Roman officials of the provinces to find all Christian individuals and use every means to force them to worship and appease the anger of the gods. Then, probably glad to leave this humiliating action to his successors, he abdicated.

Maximian carried out the edict with completely military severity in Italy. Galerius, who had become “Augustus,” encouraged and incited the persecution more and more in the East. The list of martyrs’ names became long throughout the provinces of the empire, except in Gaul and Britain. In these two lands Constantius was content with burning a small number of churches. Eusebius, undoubtedly with exaggeration born of anger and hatred, records that some victims were flogged so severely that their flesh hung in shreds from their bones; salt or vinegar was sprinkled on the wounds; flesh was cut into pieces and thrown before waiting animals; or the tortured were bound to the cross and their bodies gradually torn and eaten by hungry animals. The fingers of some victims were pierced with sharp reeds driven under their nails. Some had their eyes gouged out; others were hung by one hand or one foot; molten lead was poured down the throats of some; others were beheaded, crucified, or beaten to death with clubs; some were quartered by being tied to bent branches of trees and then releasing the branches. No pagan writing on this subject exists.

The persecution lasted eight years. Approximately fifteen hundred Christians, both orthodox and heretic, perished during this period; countless others suffered various pains and hardships. Thousands of Christians apostatized; it is related that even Marcellinus, bishop of Rome, denied his faith out of terror and suffering. But most of the afflicted resisted, and the sight or description of the heroic fidelity of those who gave their lives for the faith or the “confessors” who suffered greatly for their faith circulated by word of mouth among the various communities; these “Acts of the Martyrs,” full of exaggeration and gripping legends, played a historical role in awakening and strengthening Christian beliefs. Tertullian said: “The blood of the martyrs is seed.” In human history there is no greater spectacle than the sight of a handful of Christians who, under the oppression and contempt of a series of emperors, endured all calamities with angry stubbornness; quietly multiplied; created order while their enemies tried to plunge them into chaos and division; met the sword with speech and violence with hope; and finally triumphed over the strongest state history has ever seen. Caesar and Christ stood face to face in the arena, and the victory belonged to Christ.

The Rise of Constantine

Diocletian, living in peace in his palace in Dalmatia, witnessed the failure of both the persecution and the tetrarchy. The Roman Empire had rarely seen such disorder and confusion as arose after his abdication. Galerius persuaded Constantius to allow him to appoint Severus and Maximinus Daia as “Caesars.” Soon the principle of heredity asserted its rights: Maxentius, son of Maximian, wanted to succeed to his father’s power and position, and the same ambition burned in Constantine, son of Constantius.

Constantine or Flavius Valerius Constantinus was born in Naissus in Moesia (272?). He was the illegitimate son of Constantius and his legal concubine Helena, a former servant in an inn in Bithynia. When Constantius became “Caesar,” Diocletian forced him to abandon Helena and marry Theodora, Maximian’s stepdaughter. Constantine received a modest education. He soon became familiar with military service and proved his bravery in wars against Egypt and Iran. When Galerius succeeded Diocletian, he kept this young officer as a hostage for Constantius’s good behavior. When Constantius asked Galerius to return his son, Galerius cleverly delayed fulfilling this request. But Constantine deceived his guards, fled on horseback, crossed Europe day and night to join his father in Boulogne and participate in a war in Britain. The soldiers of Gaul, who were deeply loyal to Constantius because of his humane behavior, became enamored of his handsome, brave, and strong son. When his father died in York in 306, the troops proclaimed Constantine not only “Caesar” but Augustus, that is, emperor. He accepted the lower title with the excuse that he would not be safe without troops. Galerius, being too far away to intervene, reluctantly recognized him as “Caesar.” Constantine successfully fought the invading Franks and threw their barbarian kings before beasts in the amphitheaters of Gaul.

Meanwhile, in Rome, the imperial guards, eager to restore the leadership of the old capital, proclaimed Maxentius emperor (306 AD). Severus set out from Milan to attack him. Maximian, to fan the disorder, resumed the imperial purple at his son’s request and joined the fight, and Severus, abandoned by his troops, was killed (307 AD). In the face of increasing chaos, Galerius, who was growing old, appointed a new “Augustus” named Flavius Licinius. Constantine, upon learning of this, claimed the same rank for himself (307 AD). A year later Maximinus Daia also assumed this title, so that instead of the two “Augusti” intended by Diocletian, there were six “Augusti” and none of them thought of being only “Caesar.” Maxentius quarreled with his father Maximian, and Maximian went to Gaul to seek help from Constantine; while Constantine was fighting the Germans beside the Rhine, Maximian tried to take command of the soldiers of Gaul in his place; Constantine crossed all of Gaul, besieged the usurper in Marseilles, captured him and, out of respect, allowed him to commit suicide (310 AD).

The death of Galerius in 311 removed the last barrier between intrigue and war. Maximinus plotted with Maxentius to overthrow Licinius and Constantine, and these two pursued the same goal. Constantine, seizing the initiative, crossed the Alps, defeated an army near Turin, and with speed of movement and strict discipline reminiscent of Caesar’s march from the Rubicon, advanced toward Rome. On 27 October 312 at Saxa Rubra (the Red Rocks), fourteen kilometers north of Rome, he encountered Maxentius’s forces and with superior strategy forced Maxentius to fight with his back to the Tiber and with no retreat except the Milvian Bridge. Eusebius says that on the afternoon before the battle, Constantine saw in the sky a cross of light with these words in Greek: en toutoi nika (in this sign conquer). The next day, early in the morning, according to the account of Eusebius and Lactantius, Constantine heard a voice in his sleep commanding him to place on his soldiers’ shields a sign in the shape of an X with a line passing through it and the tip of the line turned to the right—that is, the sign of Christ. As soon as he awoke he acted accordingly. Then under a standard on which the first letters of Christ’s name were placed together with a cross (this standard thereafter became known as the Labarum), he went to the battlefield. When Maxentius raised the Mithraic-Aurelian standard of the Invincible Sun, Constantine allied himself with the fate of the Christians, of whom there were many among his soldiers, and made this encounter one of the turning points of religious history. For the Mithraists who were in Constantine’s army, the cross was not offensive, since they had long fought under a Mithraic cross of light. In any case Constantine was victorious at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge and Maxentius perished with thousands of his soldiers in the Tiber. The victor entered Rome and was welcomed there as the undisputed ruler of the West.

In early 313 Constantine and Licinius met in Milan to coordinate their rule. To consolidate Christian support in all the conquered provinces, Constantine and Licinius issued the “Edict of Milan,” which confirmed the religious tolerance proclaimed by Galerius and extended it to all religions, and contained an order for the return of property taken from Christians during the recent period of persecution. After this historic declaration, which in effect ratified the defeat of paganism, Constantine returned to defend Gaul and Licinius went east to crush Maximinus (313 AD). Shortly afterward this man died, and thus Constantine and Licinius became the undisputed rulers of the empire. Licinius married Constantine’s sister. A nation tired of fighting rejoiced at the prospect of peace.

But neither of the two “Augusti” had abandoned the hope of gaining supreme power without a partner. In 314 their growing enmity led to war. Constantine marched into Pannonia, defeated Licinius, and demanded the surrender of all Roman Europe except Thrace. Licinius took revenge on Constantine’s Christian auxiliaries by renewing the persecution in Asia and Egypt. He expelled Christians from his palace in Nicomedia, ordered all his soldiers to worship the pagan gods, and finally prohibited the performance of any Christian ceremony within the four walls of the city. Christians who disobeyed lost their rank and position, citizenship, freedom, or life.

Constantine sought opportunity not only to help the Christians of the East but to annex the East to his own country. When the barbarians occupied Thrace and Licinius could not confront them, Constantine brought his soldiers from Thessalonica to free Licinius’s province. After the barbarians were driven out, Licinius protested Constantine’s entry into Thrace and, since neither wanted peace, war began again. The defender of Christianity, with one hundred thirty thousand soldiers, faced the defender of paganism, who had one hundred sixty thousand soldiers, first at Adrianople and then at Chrysopolis (Scutari). Constantine was victorious in these battles and, in 323, became sole emperor. Licinius surrendered with a promise of pardon, but the following year, accused of resuming his plots, he was executed. Constantine recalled the exiled Christians and restored to all “confessors of Christianity” the privileges and property they had lost. While declaring religious freedom for all, he openly declared himself a Christian and invited his subjects to join him in converting to the new faith.

Constantine and Christianity

Was this a sincere religious conversion, an act of religious conviction, or a wise political maneuver? The latter is more probable. Helena, his mother, had converted to Christianity when Constantius divorced her. She undoubtedly familiarized her son with the interests and advantages of Christianity; and she herself was undoubtedly influenced by the successive victories won by his army under the banner and cross of Christ. But only a skeptic could make such skillful use of human religious feelings. A saying attributed to Constantine in the history of Augustus is: “Fortuna (the goddess of fortune) makes men emperors”—of course this is more a tribute to humility than to luck. In the early years of his rule he had gathered pagan scholars and philosophers in his court. After his conversion he rarely behaved according to the requirements of Christian rites. His letters to Christian bishops clearly show that he was not very concerned with the theological differences that agitated Christians, but desired that these disputes be resolved for the benefit of imperial unity. During his reign he treated bishops as his political agents and assistants; he summoned them to him, presided over their councils, and approved whatever opinion the majority of them expressed. A devout and believing Christian is first a Christian and second a statesman; in Constantine’s case this was the opposite; Christianity was a means for him, not an end.

He had seen the failure of three periods of persecution in his lifetime and was not unaware that Christianity, despite these blows, was growing and developing. The followers of this cult were still very much in the minority; but they had unity, courage, and power, whereas the pagan majority was divided among many cults and was only a fruitless majority of simple people who had neither faith nor influence. The number of Christians was large in the time of Maxentius in Rome and in the time of Licinius in the East. Constantine’s support of Christians caused twelve Christian legions to serve him in his wars against these two men. The relative order and morality of Christians, the peaceful beauty of their rites, their obedience to the clergy, and their humble acceptance of the inequalities of life in the hope of attaining happiness after death had impressed Constantine. Perhaps this new cult could refine Roman morals, give new life to marriage and family, and reduce the intensity of class warfare. Christians, despite the many oppressions they suffered, had rarely rebelled against the state. Their teachers had instilled obedience to civil authority in them and convinced them that monarchy was a divine gift. Constantine wanted absolute monarchy. Such a government could benefit from the support of religion. The discipline based on hierarchy and the universal authority of the Church seemed a suitable psychological companion for monarchy. Perhaps this astonishing organization of bishops and priests could serve as an instrument for establishing peace, creating unity, and law?

Nevertheless, in a world where pagans still outnumbered Christians, Constantine had to proceed cautiously. He spoke with such vague monotheistic language that any pagan could accept it. In the early years of his rule he patiently performed the ceremonies required as “Pontifex Maximus.” He repaired pagan temples and supported them with an edict. For the dedication of Constantinople he observed both pagan and Christian rites. He used pagan magical incantations to preserve crops and cure diseases.

Gradually, as his power increased, he supported Christianity more openly. From 317 the forms related to pagan rites were deleted one by one from his coins. In 323 the coins contained only neutral inscriptions. A legal text from his reign, whose authenticity has been questioned but not rejected, gave Christian bishops judicial power in their dioceses. Other laws exempted Church properties and lands from taxation, gave Christian communities legal personality, allowed them to own land and receive donations, and gave unclaimed property of martyrs to the Church. Constantine provided financial aid to Christian communities in need, built several churches in Constantinople and elsewhere, and prohibited the worship of images in the new capital. He set aside the “Edict of Milan” and prohibited the assemblies of heretical sects, and finally ordered that their religious associations be destroyed. He gave his sons an orthodox Christian education and financed his mother’s philanthropic organizations. The Church received gifts beyond all expectation. Eusebius delivered speeches that were all hymns of thanksgiving and praise. Throughout the empire Christians gathered for ceremonies of thanksgiving, celebrating the victory of their God.

Nevertheless, three clouds darkened the radiance of this “cloudless day”: the monastic schism, the Donatist schism, and the Arian heresy. Between the period of the Decian and Diocletianic persecutions, the Church had become the richest religious organization in the empire and had reduced its attacks on wealth and luxury. Cyprian complained that the believers in his diocese were so madly infatuated with money, that Christian women painted their faces, that bishops held high-paying official positions from which they became wealthy, lent money at interest, and abandoned their faith at the first smell of danger. Eusebius was very saddened that priests quarreled with one another in competition for Church positions. While Christianity was transforming the world, the world was also transforming Christianity, and manifesting the innate paganism of man. Christian monasticism or asceticism took shape in protest against these mutual compromises of spirit and body. A minority aimed to avoid any indulgence toward human desires and to permanently establish the immersion in the thought of eternal life that had predominated in early Christianity. Some of these ascetics, following the customs and habits of the Cynics, renounced all their possessions, wore the philosopher’s cloak, and lived only on alms. Some of them, like Paul the Hermit, lived in seclusion in the desert of Egypt. Around 275 an Egyptian monk named Anthony lived in solitude for a quarter of a century: first in a tomb, then in a ruined fortress on a mountain, finally in a cave in the middle of rocks in the desert. There he struggled at night with terrifying visions and delightful dreams and overcame them all. Finally the fame of his holiness spread among all Christians and caused worshipers to also become hermits of that desert and his rivals in worship. In 325, when Pachomius decided that solitude indicated selfishness, he gathered the hermits in a monastery in Tabennisi in Egypt and founded communal monasticism or the monastic community, which spread widely in the West. The Church for a time opposed the monastic movement, then accepted it as a necessary counterweight to its increasing involvement in governance.

One year after Constantine’s conversion, the Church was torn by a schism that could have destroyed it at the very hour of its victory. Donatus, bishop of Carthage, with the support of a priest of the same name and character, asserted that those bishops who had handed over the “Holy Scriptures” to the pagan police during the persecution had acted contrary to the duties of their office and abused their authority; therefore the baptisms or ordinations given by them were invalid; and the validity of the sacred rites depended to some extent on the spiritual state of the priest. When the Church firmly refused to accept this view, the supporters of Donatus, wherever the incumbent priest did not meet their expectations, set up their own bishops against these bishops. Constantine, who had counted on Christianity as a unifying force, was horrified at seeing the disorder and violence resulting from this schism, and apparently was also provoked by the occasional alliance of the Donatists with certain radical peasant movements in Africa. He therefore convened a council of bishops in the city of Arles (314 AD), secured the desired condemnation of the Donatists, and ordered the schismatics to return to the Church, and issued an edict that those who refused would lose their property and civil rights (316 AD). Five years later, recalling the “Edict of Milan,” he revoked these decisions and showed a kind of tolerance toward the Donatists. This schism existed until the Saracens, by conquering Africa, triumphed equally over the orthodox and the heretics.

In the same year in Alexandria the most terrible heresy in the history of the Church appeared. Around 318 a priest from the city of Baucalis in Egypt surprised his bishop by expressing strange opinions about the nature of Christ. A learned Catholic historian describes this priest charitably as follows:

Arius ... was tall and thin, had a sad look and signs of asceticism and austerity were evident in his appearance. As could be seen from his clothing—a short sleeveless tunic, a shawl as a cloak—he was among the ascetics. His manner of speaking was sweet and his words convincing. The virgins dedicated to the world, of whom there were many in Alexandria, showed him great respect and he had many loyal supporters among the high clergy.

Arius said that Christ was not one with the Creator, but the “Logos,” that is, the first and most excellent of all creatures. Bishop Alexander objected; Arius persisted. He argued as follows: “If the Son was brought into existence by the Father, he must have been born in time (have had a beginning). In that case he cannot be equal to the Father in eternity. Moreover, if Christ was created, he must have come into existence from nothing, not from the essence of the Father. Therefore he was not of one essence with the Father.” The Holy Spirit came into existence from the “Logos” and had less divinity than the “Logos.” In these views the continuation of ideas that reached Arius from Plato through the Stoics, Philo, Plotinus, and Origen can be seen. Platonic philosophy, which had such a profound influence on Christian theological principles, from then on clashed with the Church.

What was shocking to Bishop Alexander was not merely Arius’s views, but the rapid spread of them even among the ranks of the clergy. He convened a council of Egyptian bishops in Alexandria, and induced the council to depose Arius and his supporters, and sent a report of the events to the other bishops. Some bishops raised objections; many priests showed sympathy with Arius; clergy and laity in the Asian provinces were divided on this point, and according to Eusebius: “Tumult and disorder in the cities reached such a level that this became even a subject of blasphemous amusement for the pagans in their theaters.” Constantine, who had come to Nicomedia after overthrowing Licinius, was informed of the matter by the bishop of that city. He sent a private message to Alexander and Arius and invited them to take the calm of philosophers as a model and resolve their intellectual differences peacefully with each other, or at least not let the common people become aware of their debates. His letter, which Eusebius has preserved, clearly shows that Constantine was not very attached to theological principles and that his religious policy had political goals.

I had assumed that I could bring back to a single uniform shape the ideas that all people have about the gods, because I strongly felt that if I could persuade people to unite on this point, the administration of affairs would be considerably easier. But alas! I learn that among you there is more dispute than there has recently been in Africa. Apparently the causes of these futile disputes are not worthy of such fierce opposition. You, Alexander, if you wanted to know how your priests think about a legal issue or even about a detail of an issue that has no importance, and you, Arius, if you had such ideas, you should have kept silent... There was no need to bring these issues before the people... for these are issues that are only motivated by idleness and have no benefit except to sharpen the mind... they are foolish things, worthy of inexperienced children, not worthy of priests or reasonable persons.

This letter had no effect. For the Church the issue of “consubstantiality,” as opposed to simple similarity, that is, the “likeness” of the Son and the Father, was a vital matter theologically and politically. If Christ was not God, the entire foundation of the Christian religion might collapse, and if disagreement on this point was permitted, confusion of opinions might destroy the unity of the Church, its power, and therefore the help it gave to the state. As the debate spread more and more and inflamed the Greek East, Constantine, to put an end to this matter, decided to convene the first general council of the Church. He therefore invited all bishops to come in 325 to Nicaea (Nicea) in Bithynia near his capital Nicomedia, and covered all their expenses. Three hundred eighteen came, and one of them says: “There were also other clergy, fewer in number, who assisted them.” This point shows to what enormous growth the Church had reached at that time. Most of these bishops came from the Eastern provinces. Many Western bishoprics were unaware of this debate, and Pope Sylvester I, who had been unable to come because of illness, was content to send a few priests as representatives.

The council met in the great hall of one of the imperial palaces under the supreme presidency of Constantine. The emperor opened the negotiations with a message to the bishops on the establishment of Church unity. Eusebius says: “He listened patiently to the speeches; he moderated the intensity of the opponents’ speech,” and he himself participated in the debates. Arius repeated his view that Christ was a created being, unequal to the Father, and “divine only by participation.” Clever questioners forced him to admit that if Christ was a creature and had a beginning, he could have changed, and if he could have changed, he could have turned from virtue to vice. His answers were honest, logical, and fatal to him. Athanasius, the eloquent and aggressive chief priest whom Alexander had brought as the sword of his theology, clearly showed that if Christ and the Holy Spirit were not consubstantial with the Father, polytheism and belief in multiple gods would triumph. He admitted that it is difficult to imagine three distinct persons in one God, but defended that reason must bow before the mystery of the Trinity. All the bishops, except seventeen of them, agreed with him and signed a statement explaining this view. Arius’s supporters agreed to sign it on condition that one letter be added and “consubstantial” be changed to “like.” The council refused and, at the emperor’s suggestion, published the following statement:

We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, creator of all things visible and invisible, and in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, begotten... not made, consubstantial with the Father... who for us men and for our salvation came down, was incarnate, became man, suffered, rose on the third day from the dead, ascended into heaven, and will come to judge the living and the dead.

Only five bishops, and finally only two, refused to sign this statement. These two, together with Arius, were excommunicated and exiled by the emperor. An imperial edict ordered that all books of Arius be burned and the punishment for hiding them be execution.

Constantine celebrated the conclusion of the council with a royal banquet in which all the bishops participated and reminded them not to fall upon one another again. Then he dismissed them. He was wrong to imagine that the debate was over and that he himself would not change his mind, but he was right in believing that he had taken an important action for the benefit of Church unity. The council confirmed the firm opinion of the majority of its members that the organization and preservation of the Church required the stability of its doctrine; and finally reached that practical unity and agreement of opinion on the basic belief that gave the medieval Church the name Catholic. At the same time, this council marked the replacement of Christianity, as the representative and supporter of the Roman Empire, with paganism, and drew Constantine into a far more definite alliance with Christianity. A new civilization based on a new faith was thereafter built on the ruins of a worn-out culture and a dying cult. The Middle Ages had begun.

Constantine and Civilization

One year later, Constantine founded a new city in the desolate and isolated land of Byzantium, which he named New Rome; later the city was given his own name. In 330 he turned away from Rome and from Nicomedia and made Constantinople (Constantinople or present-day Istanbul) his capital. There he created all the majestic splendor of an Eastern court around himself, because he felt that the psychological effect of this splendor on the people was worth the cost and was itself a clever economy in government expenses. With prudent policy and armament he supported the soldiers, moderated his despotism with humane edicts, and strove to promote literature and art. He encouraged the schools of Athens and founded a new university in Constantinople where professors, at government expense, taught Greek and Latin languages, literature and philosophy, rhetoric and law, and trained employees for the empire. He confirmed the privileges of physicians and teachers and extended these privileges to physicians and teachers of all the conquered provinces. He commissioned governors to establish schools of architecture and, by granting various privileges and rewards, to attract students to these schools. Artists were exempted from civic obligations so that they would have time to learn their art well and pass it on to their children. Treasures of art from the empire were used to transform Constantinople into a beautiful capital.

In Rome, the architectural works of this period were begun by Maxentius. In 306 he started building a vast basilica, which was a sign of the peak of classical architecture in the West, and Constantine completed the construction of this basilica. Since this building was built on the plan of the “great baths,” its area reached one hundred ten meters by eighty meters. Above its central hall, which was thirty-eight meters by twenty-seven meters, three concrete vaults were placed to a height of forty meters, and these three vaults rested on fluted columns in the Corinthian style twenty meters high. The floor of the hall was paved with colored marble. The floor of the windows was decorated with statues and the surrounding walls served as half-vaults for the central vaults. Later Gothic and Renaissance architects learned much from these vaults and half-vaults. Bramante, when drawing up the plan of St. Peter’s Basilica, intended to “raise the Pantheon on the great basilica of Constantine,” that is, to place a dome on a vast portico.

The first Christian emperor built many churches in Rome, among which perhaps the original building of “San Lorenzo fuori le Mura” was also included. To celebrate his victory at the Milvian Bridge in 315 he erected a triumphal arch. This building is one of the best-preserved remains of Roman works and its overall majesty has not suffered obvious damage from the encroachments made on its various parts. Four column shafts of delicate proportion divide three arches, and the decorated entablature rests on them. The upper story of the roof has reliefs and statues taken from buildings of the time of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius. While the reliefs between the columns were taken from a building of the time of Hadrian. Two reliefs are apparently from the works of artists of Constantine’s time: squatting figures unpolished, profile faces with feet visible from the front and thus inconsistent with each other, and the shape of heads clumsily crowded together to supposedly create a perspective image show a lack of refinement in technique and taste, but the depth of carving in the effect of light and shadow creates a wonderful sense of depth and dimension in the person; and the subjects are shown with such raw vitality that it seems as if Italian art had deliberately intended to return to its primitive origin. The enormous face of Constantine has carried primitiveness to an offensive degree. It is unbelievable to imagine that the man who presided with such good humor over the “Council of Nicaea” resembled this sour-faced barbarian, unless we assume that the artist had a mind that years before Gibbon was able to depict his pessimistic aphorism: “I have described the triumph of barbarism and religion.”

In the early fourth century a new art took shape and that was the “illumination” of manuscripts with miniature paintings. Literature itself at this time was essentially Christian in character. Lucius Firmianus Lactantius in a book called “Divine Institutes” (307 AD) eloquently described Christianity, and in another writing called “On the Deaths of the Persecutors” (314 AD) with the wit and sting of Cicero described the final agony of the persecuting emperors. Lactantius writes: “Religion, by its nature, must be unhindered, voluntary, and free.” Of course this statement was later recognized as a false opinion and his life did not last long enough to atone for it. More famous than him was Eusebius Pamphili, bishop of Caesarea. This man began his literary life as priest, secretary, and librarian to his predecessor bishop, that is, Pamphilus. Eusebius loved Pamphilus so much that he took his name. Pamphilus had acquired the library of Origen, and around it had gathered the largest collection of Christian books of that time. Eusebius, living among these treasures, became the most learned scribe of his age. Pamphilus gave his life during the Galerian persecution. Eusebius suffered greatly from the doubts later expressed about how he himself had survived that period. Because he took a middle position in the dispute between Arius and Alexander, he made many enemies because of this. Nevertheless, he became a courtier at Constantine’s court and was commissioned to write the emperor’s biography. Part of the result of his scholarly research is gathered in the book “Universal History,” which is the most complete ancient chronicle. Eusebius placed sacred history and pagan history in parallel columns, divided them into a series of simultaneous histories, and tried to determine the duration of each important period from the time of Abraham to the time of Constantine. All subsequent chronicles have relied on his book as a reference.

Eusebius clothed this skeleton with flesh and thus in 325 wrote a “History of the Church” that included an account of the development and growth of the Church from its beginning until the time of the “Council of Nicaea.” In the first chapter (which also served as a model for Bossuet), encompassing the oldest philosophy of history, it presents the ages as the battlefield of God and Satan, and all events as preparations for the victory of Christ. This book was weak in arrangement and composition but well written. The sources on which this book is based have been critically and fairly examined, and the judgments that have come are as accurate as any of the ancient books of history. Eusebius, by quoting important documents that would have been lost if he had not included them in his book, has done a great service to his descendants. The scope of this bishop’s information is vast, and the feeling he has warms his style of writing and this style reaches the level of eloquence and fluency in moments when it refutes certain theological views. He frankly sets aside issues that may not be instructive for his readers or confirm his philosophy, and arranges the writing of the history of the “Great Council” in such a way that no mention is made of Arius or Athanasius. This honest dishonesty has caused his book “Life of Constantine” to be more a panegyric than a biography. The book begins with eight lively and spirited chapters in which nothing is spoken of except the emperor’s piety and his good works, and it describes how Constantine “ruled his country for more than thirty years in a divine manner.” No one reading this book would guess that its hero, Constantine, had killed his son, nephew, and wife.

Constantine, like Augustus, was successful in managing everything except managing his own family. His relations with his mother were generally good. It was apparently at his initiative that his mother went to Jerusalem and razed to the ground the infamous temple of Aphrodite, which was said to have been built on the site of the Savior’s tomb. According to Eusebius, at that time the “tomb of Christ” and the cross on which he died were revealed. Constantine ordered that the “Church of the Resurrection” be built on the tomb and the sacred relics be preserved in a special sanctuary. Just as in classical times pagans had cherished and worshiped the relics of the Trojan War, and Rome had prided itself on the goddess Athena of Troy, the Christian world also, with a change of face and by renewing its nature according to the ancient custom of human life, began to collect and worship the relics of Christ and the saints. Helena built a chapel in the place that, according to tradition, was the birthplace of Jesus in Bethlehem, humbly served the virgins dedicated to the world who performed religious ceremonies there, then returned to Constantinople to die in the arms of her son.

Constantine had married twice, first to Minervina, who bore him a son named Crispus, and then to Fausta, daughter of Maximian, who bore him three daughters and three sons. Crispus became a very good soldier and rendered great services to his father in Constantine’s wars against Licinius. In 326 Crispus was killed by order of Constantine. Almost at the same time the emperor ordered the execution of Licinianus, son of Licinius from Constantia, Constantine’s sister, that is, his nephew. Shortly afterward Fausta was also killed by order of her husband. We do not know the reasons for these three killings. Zosimus assures that Crispus had expressed interest in Fausta and Fausta had reported this to the emperor; and Helena [Constantine’s mother], who loved Crispus very much, took revenge on him, that is, she convinced Constantine that his wife Fausta had surrendered to his son. Perhaps Fausta had intended to remove Crispus so that her own son would ascend the throne and Licinianus had been removed because he was plotting to reclaim his father’s share in the rule.

Fausta achieved her goal after death, because in 335 Constantine divided the empire among his surviving sons and nephews. Two years later, at Easter, he celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of his reign with splendor and majesty. Then, when he saw death approaching, he went for bathing to the hot waters of Aquileia. As his illness intensified he asked for a priest to baptize him, because he had practically postponed this sanctification until these moments of death in the hope that in this way he would be cleansed of all the sins of his turbulent life. Then this weary king, who was sixty-four years old, took off the imperial robe, put on the white garment of a new Christian believer in its place, and died.

Constantine was an excellent commander, a capable administrator, and a high-ranking statesman. He inherited the restorative and reformative work of Diocletian and completed it—the Roman Empire owes eleven hundred fifty years of its extended life to these two. His greatest mistake was dividing the empire among his sons. Apparently he had foreseen that just as he himself had contended for supreme power, they would also contend, but he thought that if he chose another heir, the probability that they would fight each other would be greater. This too is a price that must be paid for individual government. We cannot judge the executions he ordered because we do not know their motives. Under the exhausting burden of governing issues, he may for a time have surrendered himself to fear and jealousy prevailing over reason. It appears from the evidence that in old age the burden of regret weighed heavily on him. His Christianity, which at first had a political character, gradually turned into a sincere faith. He became the most persistent preacher of his own country, persecuted apostates out of conviction, and in every step took God as a partner in his work. Because he was more far-sighted than Diocletian, by making the empire share in a young cult and a powerful organization, and morals full of enthusiasm and zeal, he breathed new life into the old body of the empire. With his help, Christianity became as much a state as it was a Church, that is, for fourteen centuries it became the mold of the life and thought of Europe. Perhaps, if we except Augustus, the grateful Church was right to call him the greatest of the emperors.