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CHURCH COUNCILS AND THEIR DECREES

CHURCH COUNCILS
and THEIR DECREES
BY
AMBROSE N. BLATCHFORD

BOSTON
AMERICAN UNITARIAN ASSOCIATION
1909

PREFACE
The title of this book involves no discussion as
to the rightful application of the terms * General '
or ' (Ecumenical ' to any of the Councils of the
Christian Church. But, for that reason, it may
seem the more desirable to take note of the fact
that three great branches of the Church, namely,
the Greek, the Roman, and the Anglican, differ
widely from one another in their recognition of
the authority actually attaching to the decisions
of such assemblies.
By the adherents of the Greek Church seven
Councils are accepted as General ; the last of
these being what is kno'wn as the Second Council
of Nice, A.D. 787, which restored to the Churches
' beside the figure of the cross, the rehcs of saints,
and their images ' ; and this, it was further
declared, ' because those paintings recall to us
the memory of the originals, and make us par
ticipate in their sanctity.'
After the great schism between the Eastern
and Western Churches, brought about (a.d. 1054)
b}' dissension on the question of the Procession

6 Preface
of the Holy Ghost, we cannot expect to find
any identity of view between the Greek and
Roman communions, as to the character and
authority of Church Councils.
With the high demands of the Church of Rome
students of religious history are familiar. When
the Western Empire, which had its seat in Rome,
fell to pieces, the Emperor's place was filled by
the Pope. In -virtue of such succession, the Pope
asserted his right to summon General Councils,
whilst his claim to be the successor of the Apostle
Peter, and head of the whole Church, lent added
importance to his position and action.
The Roman Catholic Church, therefore, loyally
and persistently asserts the oecumenical character
of all Councils so summoned by the Pope.
It yet remains to indicate the opinion held by
the English Reformers on this question, which
is well and clearly set forth in the Twenty-first
Article of the Church of England.
It would be difficult to find stronger evidence .
of regard, on the part of the Enghsh clergy, for
the position and judgment of the laity, touching
these serious matters, than is afforded by the
Article in question.
The first thought which finds expression from
the framers of this statement is that ' General
Councils may not be gathered together without
the commandment and will of Princes.' It will
be seen, therefore, that the Anghcan Church de-

Preface 7
clares that the right of summoning any Council
that is to be regarded as ' General,' depends upon
the civil, and not on the ecclesiastical power only.
That is the test which she applies to the authority
of bygone Councils, and declaring, by the testi
mony of history, that only six Councils were so
summoned in the earlier ages of the Christian
Church, she holds that these alone can be called
' General,' and that the very last of them that
could be recognized as such was the Third Council
of Constantinople, which assembled there, a.d. 680.
Nor is it possible to ignore the plain common
sense, which underhes the estimate of these
Councils formed by the Church of England.
' And when they be gathered together,' we fur
ther read in this same Article, ' forasmuch as
they be an assembly of men, where all be not
governed with the Spirit and Word of God,
they may err, and sometimes have erred, even
in things pertaining unto God.'
It is in cordial recognition of the truth and
spirit of such wise words that these passages of
religious history should be remembered.
A. N. B.
Bristol, January, 1909.

CONTENTS I PAGES
The Council of Jerusalem, a.d. 45
Reverence of the first disciples for Judaism.
Appeal of Christianity through the HeUenistic
Jews to the Gentile world. The attitude of
the Church at Jerusalem towards the Gentile
converts. Anxiety as to their relation to
Judaism. The work of Paul at Antioch. His
protest against the imposition of circumcision
on the Gentile Christians. His appeal for un
restricted social intercoiirse between them and
Jewish believers. The decision of the Council.
A temporary arrangement, not the declaration
of a principle. Division of ministration. The
Right Hand of Fellowship. Union in the work
of brotherly charity  17-27
II
The Council of Nic^a, a.d. 325
Significance of the long interval between the
Councils of Jerusalem and Nicsea. The diffu
sion of Christianity involving the contact of
Hebrew and Greek theories of the Deity. Dr.
Martineau's opinion of their mutual influence.
Absorption of Greek thought into Christianity

10 Contents
responsible for the rise of the Arian controversy.
Views of SabeUius challenged by Alexander,
who is, in turn, opposed by Arius. The mo
mentous question of the period. Controversy
deprecated by Constantine the Great. His
advice to both disputants. He summons the
Council of Nicsea. Deplorable spirit among its
members rebuked by the Emperor. Angry de
bates. Doctrinal decree of the Council, and
condemnation of Arius. Evil precedent of visit
ing religious opinions with civil punishment.
Attitude of Athanasius. His estimate of the
nature of Christ. Contrast between primitive
Christianity and that at Nicsea  28-42
III
The Council of Constantinople, a.d. 381
Failure of the Council of Nicsea to establish
uniformity of doctrine. Multiplication of theo
logical theories. Arian and Semi-Arian ¦views.
ApoUinaris. Marcellus. Photinus. Preval
ence of the doctrine of the Logos. The for
tunes of theology dependent on the temporal
ruler. Inflexibility of Athanasius. Tolerance
of the Arian party. A heathen opinion of the
attitude of Christians to one another. Acces
sion of Theodosius, who desires religious, as
well as political, unity. He convokes the
Council of Constantinople. His dogmatic atti
tude. Dr. Jortin's estimate of the temper of
the Council. Decree of the coequahty of the
Third with the First and Second Persons in the
Trinity. Relentless persecution of the Arians
by Theodosius, resulting in the decline of
Arianism  43-55

Contents 11
IV
The Council of Chalcedon, a.d. 451
Survival of the spirit of controversy. Contention
as to the right designation of the Mother of
Jesus. Nestorius denies her the title ' Mother
of God.' His view opposed by Cyril of Alex
andria. Rise of the controversy on the Doc
trine of Two Natures in Christ. Theodosius II
summons a Council at Ephesus to decide the
question. Unworthy spirit manifested. Con
demnation, banishment, and death of Nestorius.
A second Council assembled at Ephesus, known,
by the -violence of its proceedings, as ' the
Robber Council.' Brutality and unscrupulous-
ness of the triumphant party. The declaration
of the Council obtained by fraud and passion.
Appeal after the Council for the good offices of
the Bishop of Rome. Leo moves the Emperor
to summon the Council of Chalcedon. More
reasonable spirit of those assembled. The
Council decrees the doctrine of Two Natures in
one Person  56-68
V
The Second Lateran Council, a.d. 1139
Growth of the influence of the See of Rome. The
claim of Rome as the only Apostolic Church
in Western Christendom. Difference of the
Eastern Churches as compared with the
Western. Marked effect of uniform and well-
timed action by the adherents of Rome.
Rome's predominance over the Eastern Churches
manifested at Chalcedon. Leo the Great ex
tends the spiritual jurisdiction of the Roman
Church. Causes tending to the increase of the

12 Contents
influence of Rome's authority. Gregory VII
claims power for the Church over all earthly
rulers. His conflict with the Emperor Henry
IV, who goes to Canossa, suffers degradation,
and makes complete submission. Jealousy
between the parochial priesthood and the
Monks and Abbots. Prominent Monks. Origin
of the name ' Lateran.' Protest against the
luxury of the clergy by Arnold of Brescia.
Innocent II summons the Second Lateran
Council, at which Arnold is condemned to ban
ishment. Subsequent reappearance of Arnold
at Rome. His useless efforts for Reform, and
final execution at Rome  69-82
VI
The Fourth Lateran Council, a.d. 1215
Increased acceptance of the claims of the Church
of Rome. The most marked period of papal
authority. Pope Innocent III summons the
Fourth Lateran Council. Disappearance of
the Episcopal Synods. Reversion of the power
exercised by Bishops not to temporal rulers but
to the Pope. The papal Interdict more fre
quently employed in spite of protests. Its
terrors in France and England. The Scottish
King, William the Lion, successfully resists it.
Napoleon Bonaparte the object of its last
issue. Stern enactments of this Council against
the Jews. No compromise with heresy. Severe
penalties against any ruler giving shelter to
heretics. The decree of Auricular Confession.
Increased demand upon the faith of the
Church's adherents by the declaration of the
doctrine of Transubstantiation  83-94

Contents 13
VII
The Council of Toulouse, a.d. 1228
Increasing need for strengthening the faith of the
Church. True index of the intensity of the
struggle for the Church's authority. Condition
of religious thought in the Middle Ages. Per
secution the result of holding salvation to de
pend on belief. Spread of heretical thought.
The mere anathema of the Church useless if
unsupported by the infliction of penalties.
Revival of charges of luxuriousness against
the clergy. Pierre de Bruys. His doctrines,
and his death. The Henricians and their teach
ing, for a while successfully opposed by St.
Bernard. Multiplication of heretical societies.
Peter Waldus of Lyons. Saccho's estimate of
the Piedmontese heretics. Heresy in Langue-
doc. The Albigenses. A papal decree against
them. Dominic's warnings disregarded in the
land of the Troubadours. Crusade under Simon
de Montfort against the Count of Toulouse for
protecting the Albigenses. Inquisition estab
lished by the Council of Toulouse. Its fatal
effects, and far-reaching influence . . . . 95-108
VIII
The Council of Constance, a.d. 1415
Increasing influence of the Church in temporal
concerns. Papal reliance on the power of
France. The Pope quits Rome for Avignon.
Decline of the prestige of the city of Rome.
Friction between French and Italian Bishops.
Rival Popes. Respective allegiance of the
European powers. A Council at Pisa begins the
work of reunion. Its adjourned meetings re-

14 Contents
sumed at Constance. It aims to close the
Papal Schism, and reform Church Hfe. Loyal
Cathohcs protest against the Sale of Indulgences
and the misuse of Cathedrals and Monasteries.
Wyclif's work in England. Influence of John
Huss. Attitude of the Bohemian clergy. Huss
summoned to attend the Council. He rehes on
the safe-conduct granted by the Emperor, and
approved by the Pope. The appeal of Huss
from Pope and Church to the Scriptures. The
Council violates the safe-conduct, refuses per
mission to Huss to argue before it, and con
demns him to death. John of Chlum's final
appeal to Huss. Martyrdom of Huss. Re
actionary spirit of the Council . . . . 109-122
IX
The Council of Trent, a.d. 1545
Progressive character of the Sixteenth Century.
Reassertion of Rome's doctrine, and felt need
of improving the hfe and disciphne of the
Church. Luther, in consequence of the Bull of
Leo X, appeals for a General Council. The
Emperor Charles V and the German Princes
support his appeal. Catholics and Protestants
differ as to the place of meeting. Selection of
Trent. Refusal of the papal party to give
precedence to the consideration of Church hfe.
The Canon of Scripture to be first discussed.
Authority of the Vulgate established. Attempts
to remove the Council to Bologna. Withdrawal
of the French Bishops, and increase of the ItaUan
influence. Absence of the Protestants, anxious
in regard to a safe-conduct. Transubstantiation
reafiirmed. The chaUce refused to the Laity.
Prince Maurice joins the Protestants, and in-

Contents 15
vades the Tyrol. Fearing war the Council ad
journs, and meets again after an interval of eight
years. Aggressive spirit of the reassembled Coun
cil. Influence of the Jesuits on papal authority.
They secure a clear statement of the Church's
position and teaching. Abolition of abuses. A
Catholic ' Counter-Reformation ' . . . . 123-137
X
The Vatican Council, a.d. 1869
Continuing influence of the Jesuits. Recognition
of the authority of the Pope. Their untiring
efforts for the establishment of the Temporal
Power. Resulting troubles. The Order ex
pelled from France ; subsequently readmitted,
and finally abolished by the Pope himself. Rise
of Ultramontanism. Adverse issues of the
French Revolution. Restoration of the Order
of the Jesuits. Cardinal Manning's advocacy
of the Temporal Power, declaring the Pope's
spiritual and temporal sovereignty to be a
doctrine of Revelation. Desire of the Jesuits
for a Council to be summoned by the Pope.
Pius IX in favour of the proposal. He sum
mons the faithful, together with Bishops of the
Eastern Church, as well as Protestant clergy,
but under conditions impossible of acceptance
by the tv/o last named. Objection of Cathohcs
to the meeting of the Council. The Council
assembles at the Vatican. Its composition. It
condemns Rationalism. The dogma of papal
Infallibihty. Withdrawal of the dissentient
minority. Triumph of the Ultramontanes. The
decrees of the Council without universal accept
ance. Cardinal Newman's estimate of them.
The abiding alternative  i38-r5j

I
THE COUNCIL OF JERUSALEM, A.D. 45
The first advance of Christianity across the
borders of Judaism, and the method of its appeal
to Gentile thought and life, could not fail to arouse
much anxious thought, and grave differences of
opinion among its earhest adherents.
It is well to bear in mind the passionate devotion
of the Jew to the commandments and traditions
of the Law that came by Moses ; for it must be
admitted that the first followers of Jesus earnestly
strove to show that they had not ceased to
participate in that feehng. Their unwillingness to
cut themselves off from the old Hebrew faith, in
which they had been bom and nurtured, can be
readily appreciated. Such a sentiment on their
part was only intensified by the abiding recollec
tion of the Master's declaration that he had come
. to destroy neither the obligations of the Law,
nor the teachings of the prophets. It was to
be expected, too, that they would bear faithfully
in mind words attributed to Jesus himself, bidding

18 The Council of Jerusalem
his disciples to address their message neither to
the Gentiles, nor even to the Samaritans, but
' rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.'
And, if tradition is to be further trusted, the
spirit of patriotism that moved Jesus to weep
over the sorrows that threatened Jerusalem, was
no less answerable for the thought that it was
wrong to take the children's bread and to cast
it to the dogs, that there was a blessing peculiarly
reserved for his beloved nation, and that salva
tion was of the Jews who knew what they
worshipped. And when we find them, as in the case of Peter,
of Stephen, and even of Paul himself, endeavour
ing most sincerely to justify their position by
references to Hebrew history, and scripture, we
cannot fail to note the strong parallehsm to the
act of the Master himself, who, as the old tradition
ran, ' beginning at Moses and all the prophets,'
' expounded unto them in all the scriptures the
things conceming himself.'
Such considerations as these are simply essential
to a just estimate of the serious controversy which
necessitated the first Council, or perhaps it may
be more correctly caUed the first Conference, of
the members of the Christian community in the
city of Jerusalem ; the first utterances and aspira
tions of the earliest advocates of Christianity, after
the death of Jesus, being distinctly Judaic, both
in tone and in direction.

Gentile Influence on Judaism 19
For a while then, the new faith was regarded
as holding a secure resting-place within the hmits
of Israel. To the disciples, the treasure, to use
the simile of the Apostle Paul, was committed in
' earthen vessels.' In the clash of controversy,
consequent upon the grovwng acceptance of
Christianity, the vessels indeed were broken, but
the treasure was set free from the hmitations
upon which alone its first custodians sincerely
beheved its enjoyment to be possible at all.
Sooner or later the spirit of that faith would
very naturally overleap the barriers, behind
which diverse faiths and peoples sheltered them
selves. The Jews themselves were not untouched
by the influences of the great Gentile world round
about them. Out of the land of Palestine many
a son of Israel had fared forth to the seats of
ancient commerce and learning to be found east
ward across the 'wide desert, or westward upon
the coasts of the Mediterranean.
These Jews came under the influence of Gentile
thought and custom. They forgot the classic
language of their forefathers to such a degree that
it was needful to translate their sacred writings
into Greek ; and so it is little to be wondered
at that in the New Testament we read of these
same Jews under the name of ' Grecians.' They
were, in fact, colonials, as distinguished from the
Palestinian Jews dwelling in the old seats of
Jewish faith. Between these two classes there

20 The Council of Jerusalem
were differences which the Jews in Palestine were
not slow to impress upon their Hellenistic brethren.
It is to be noted that these Jewish residents in
foreign lands formed a sure connecting link be
tween the Palestinian Jews and the Gentile world.
But though they were characterized by a quench
less zeal for proselytizing, as evidenced by classic
writers, they seem to have been regarded by their
Palestinian brethren as wanting in regard to the
strictest observance of ritual and of the law.
And it is noteworthy to find an echo of such a
difference in the early experiences of the Christian
faith, when Christian converts, gathered from
amongst the same foreign, Hellenistic Jews, com
plained that they were neglected in the daily
ministration ; in other words, that the common
fund for the relief and support of the poorer
brethren was not impartially administered as be
tween the converts from the Palestinian Jews
and themselves.
Moreover, Christianity was beginning to address
itself to others than to Jews. It had entered
among the Samaritans, for to them its appeal
found expression by the preaching of Peter, and
also by that of Philip. The message, doubtless,
was faithfully dehvered, but the conditions on
which its promised blessings might be enjoyed
had not come up for consideration.
But the new faith was a living one ; it was an
impossibihty to arrest its forward step ; and as

Christianity and the Gentiles 21
with ever firmer impress it touched the life of the
outside world, it found itself confronted 'with
demands and conditions of which its Apostolic
advocates had, at first, but an inadequate con
ception. The stream of faith was surely gathering
way and volume ; momentous for the world was
the question of its right direction, and weU was it
for Christianity that the fearless spirit of the
Apostle Paul was at hand. What feelings the
death of the self-devoted Stephen called up within
the soul of Paul, we can but imagine ; but our
estimate of the change within him, typified by his
subjective experience upon the Damascus road,
should surely be as reverent as it is sympathetic.
But the change is wrought : he stands before his
fellows, no longer the persecutor of the new faith,
but its champion, destined to be its deliverer,
too, from the cerements of old tradition and im
practicable conditions, amid which, but for his
words and efforts, that faith might have found
that its cradle had become its sepulchre.
By the missionary labours of Paul, then, the
disciples in Jerusalem, under the leadership of
James, ' the brother of the Lord,' together with
Peter and John, are brought face to face with
the spread of the gospel among the Gentiles ;
and this, it must be remarked, less than a score
of years after the death of Jesus. How devoted
the Christians in Jerusalem were to the faith and
ritual of their Hebrew forefathers, we are well

22 The Council of Jerusalem
aware ; but, the preaching of Paul at Antioch,
and the success of his labours, evidenced by the
large number of his converts, of necessity com
pelled the anxious attention of the Apostles at
Jerusalem to the terms on which these Gentiles
could be received as Christians. Were these
converts to be allowed to pass immediately and
freely into the fold of Christ ? or was the obUga-
tion to be rigidly imposed upon them of first
submitting to the Jewish rite of circumcision,
against which they revolted ? In short, were the
churches of Paul's planting to be counted as
Christian only on condition that their members
had first become Jews ? This was the essential
issue at stake ; and for their further information
and satisfaction, the leaders of the Church at
Jerusalem had sent down certain representatives
' — ' false brethren,' as Paul did not scruple to
call them — to leam and to report upon the general
condition, and the feelings of the believers in
Antioch. Great indeed were the issues to the world, which
depended on Paul's unflinching attitude. He was
confronted with the authority of those who had
verily heard Jesus, and had been taught by him ;
but such a claim, strong as it might be accounted,
was met by Paul's assertion that his Christianity
was nothing less than the fruit of revelation to
his own soul. Without hesitation he follows those
brethren who, as he boldly averred, came in among

Jewish and Gentile Converts 23
his friends ' to spy out their liberty, which they
had in Christ Jesus, that they might bring them
into bondage ' ; he foUows them back to Jeru
salem, and then, somewhere about a.d. 45, we
find Paul in conference both public and private
with the brethren and the leaders of the Church
at Jerusalem.
A venerable divine of the Church of England,
the Rev. Dr. Jortin, has expressed his belief that
this same Council at Jerusalem was the first and
the last at which the Holy Spirit may be said to
have presided. But it is possible that the aim of
such a teacher is similar to that of the author of
the Book of Acts, whose kindly purpose — ^judged
at least in the light of Paul's own account of that
Conference contained in the second chapter of
the Epistle to the Galatians — seems to have
been that of laying a heahng touch upon a con
troversy that must have shaken the infant Church
to its very foundations. It was not only the
question of the imposition of an objectionable
Jewish ordinance upon the Church at large, it
was the general question of the social relations
between the members of that Church, Jew and
Gentile together, that demanded the thought and
judgment of those responsible for the guidance
of the whole reUgious community.
Must the Gentiles observe the whole Mosaic
law ? Might Jewish Christians even sit at meat
with Christians of Gentile descent ? These were

24 The Council of Jerusalem
the grave matters of controversy ; and for our
just apprehension of that Conference what better
testimony can we have than the account given
by Paul himself to his friends in Galatia ?
Privately and before the company of behevers
Paul argued, pleaded, and appealed. Peter had
already eaten -with Gentile converts, so that
could only be a source of satisfaction to Paul ;
and when he pleaded, as he did so warmly, for
larger liberty, we can take the true meaning
of his utterance to the Galatians to be, ' Not
only did they say nothing unfavourable to me
but also they pledged themselves to fellowship
with me.'
The inference we draw from Paul's narrative
is to the effect that debate ran high, that Paul's
spirit was indeed stirred within him as he saw the
result of all his toil hanging in the balance. He
recognized none present as more than fellow-
labourers in the service of their common Master,
and from them he learned nothing beyond the
truth as he appreciated it. Their claims of
authority he at once set aside, saying of those
who seemed to be somewhat — 'whatsoever they
were it maketh no matter to me. God accepteth
no man's person.'
In brief, Paul's best arguments lay in the facts
with which he confronted James and the Judaic
Christians. He pointed to the converts made,
and to the Churches estabhshed. He insisted on

Feeling of the Jewish Christians 25
their determination and his own to tolerate no
submission to the distinctively Jewish rite, claim
ing for them a free entrance into Christian fellow
ship. Before such pleas so resolutely advanced,
James, Peter, and aU who followed them had no
choice but to give way. It is possible, indeed, to
regard their decision as savouring rather of ac
quiescence, than of thorough conviction. Sub
sequent events showed clearly enough that the
position assumed by the Church at Jerusalem
was in no way due to the sense of principle in
volved. Had the decision in Paul's favour been
given from that higher ground, the subsequent
dispute at Antioch, when Paul withstood Peter
to the face, touching the relationship between
the Jewish and Gentile converts, would not have
occurred. The result of Paul's contention at the
Jerusalem Conference seems to have been rather
of the nature of a tentative and a temporary
arrangement than a definite and dehberate accept
ance of a principle of action. The question of
the relationship between the Christian convert and
the law of Moses was still an open one. Paul's
fellow-believers might give a hesitating consent to
his resolute demand, but the struggle for the sub
mission of the Gentile to the Jew yet smouldered.
Taking Paul's words to his Galatian converts
as reliable, we may rest assured, from our know
ledge of Paul's spirit and temperament, that had
the reply of the Apostles at Jerusalem been

26 The Council of Jerusalem
contrary to Paul's desire, we should have read of
their refusal in Paul's subsequent writings ; but
his silence constrains us to the conclusion, that for
the time, at least, Paul was left free to take such
a course with his Gentile converts as his reason
and conscience commended to him. He took that
course, and it issued in freedom for the whole
Christian Church.
It is something to note, however, that notwith
standing the feelings and predilections of the
Jerusalem Christians no adverse reply was made
to Paul's strong appeal. And although in regard
to points of ritual observance matters were left
undecided, the tacit acceptance of circumstances
led, happily, to a very practical issue ; and, in
the ministrations of the Apostles, the result was a
division of labour. To Paul it was agreed that
the care of the Gentile churches should be en
trusted, the companies of Christians of Jewish
extraction and feehng being allotted to Peter and
the brethren who shared his views.
That compact, to aU seeming, most reasonable
and brotherly, must for the time have gladdened
the whole Christian community with the promise
of concord and mutual understanding in common
work. But even that arrangement, eagerly em
braced as it must have been, failed to hinder the
repeated interference by the Christians of Jewish
descent with the churches of the Apostle Paul's
planting in Asia Minor. It is true that according

Issue of the Council 27
to the narrative in the Book of Acts, the right hand
of fellowship was extended by the leaders of the
Church in Jerusalem to Paul and his co-workers ;
but, in the light of Paul's owai record, we cannot
ignore a serious suggestion from Professor
Schmiedel, that ' the right hand of fellowship
which they held out to each other was at the same
time a parting handshake.'
But amid differences, debates, and doubts, to
one Christlike and unselfish purpose all parties
in that first Christian conference gave warm and
willing heed. There was famine in the land, and
to the poverty-stricken brethren in Judea, Paul's
Gentile friends, according to their ability, ungrudg
ingly sent up their succour.
Even in that early day the teachers of the
Church might have their differences, real and
deep ; but the feeding of the hungry, and the
outflo-wing of brotherly sympathy proclaimed that
the spirit of Christ was indeed with them. No
man, either, was more forward to give that spirit
generous expression than the Apostle Paul, who
steadfastly witnessed for the largest liberty and
the firmest faith, alike in controversy and in ser
vice, in life and in death.

II
THE COUNCIL OF NIC^A, A.D. 323
From such knowledge as yet remains to us,
touching the proceedings at the first conference
of Christians, known in history as the Council of
Jerusalem, it is clear that the desire and, indeed,
the inflexible purpose of the Apostle Paul was
the establishment of a household of faith, wherein
Jew and Greek should dwell together as brethren.
Slowly but certainly the young church came to
make Paul's thought its own. With an ardour
unsurpassed in any age, its missionaries went
forth, sowing ofttimes in tears, and yet bringing
their sheaves home with them, as they led their
converts glad and willing captives to the com
mandments, and to the spirit of the common
Master of them aU. But this triumph, great as
it was, must be largely credited to the labours
and to the teachings of the Apostle himself, who
surely helped to save Christianity from the peril
of lapsing into what would virtually have been
another sect among the Jews.

Long Interval between Councils 29
Before another Council of the Church assembled,
a long and momentous period intervened.
Centuries passed away after a Church Council's
pronouncement on the obligations of Christian life
in the middle of the first century, at Jerusalem,
and before the authoritative declaration of the
leaders of the Church, in regard to Christian
doctrine, made in the early years of the fourth
century, at the very important and memorable
Council which met at the city of Nicsea, in
Bithynia. For we have to bear in mind the fact that from
the day when Paul contended for a free welcome
for the Gentiles into the Christian fold, unhampered
by Judaic rites, the collective and therefore the
presumably authoritative voice of the Christian
Church, as a Church, is silent for nearly three
hundred years.
To help the realization of such a fact, it is as
if we heard of a great reformer who, about the
middle of the sixteenth century, fearlessly vin
dicated the lav/ of conscience before the princes
and prelates of a seemingly world-wide church.
And catching, at intervals, here and there, the
individual voices of men, to whom the word
Protestant was verily a holy name, we should
find them swayed by the same manfulness of soul
that Luther knew. We should hear of the doc
trines dear to them ; we might be told of rulers
and of peoples who received their testimony ;

30 The Council of Nicsea
but if, after aU, we found no cotmcU or S3mod
assembhng to pubhsh any statement whatever
of Protestant doctrine tiU the middle of the
nineteenth century, we should have a parallel
to the interval, and to the vicissitudes of the
world's life, separating the age of the first
Christians from the day when their successors
gathered at Nicaea, a.d. 325.
And this fact presents us -with matter for fur
ther consideration. For, after an interval of three
hundred years between the death of the Church's
Founder and an authoritative pronouncement of
the doctrine held by that Church, surely it is
reasonable to ask, whether such a declaration, so
long delayed, did set forth with correctness the
doctrine which the Founder of that Church really
believed and commended to the men of his own
day ? In the generations following the close of
Christ's ministry, the company of his followers
numbered others than those who were hghtly
accounted of by men of knowledge, or of worldly
standing. Christianity by the fact of its growth, and by
the manifest constancy of its votaries, makes its
appeal to the rehgious, and compels the attention
of the thoughtful.
The merchant, in his joumeyings by land and
sea, comes face to face with it in province after
pro-vince of the great Roman Empire. Servants
of the Crucified are to be found among the soldiers

Spread of Christianity 31
of the Emperor. The saints come forth not only
from the humbler dwellings, and despised purlieus
of the great cities, but they are discovered in the
princely houses of the great, and in the midst of
the household of Csesar himself.
As history unrolls its record, the most casual
survey prompts the question, not where Christian
ity is, but where is it not ? It begins to lift its
head with growing confidence not only in the seats
of pagan power, but in the influential centres of
old-world thought and learning. Jerusalem, An
tioch, Rome, Athens, and Alexandria are alike
familiar with the appeal of the Christian teachers.
The preachers of the cross have been going to
and fro among the nations with a steadfast pur
pose, and an enduring hope to win them every one
for the service of their Master. Palestine is no
longer the sole abode of the young faith ; it
fringes the shores of the Great Sea ; it makes its
home in Britain, in Gaul, and in Spain : it ad
vances to the furthest outposts of the Roman
rule in the very midst of the legions that make
that rule respected.
All this had surely come to pass, but still,
apparently, no adequate cause had arisen to
demand from the Church, as a corporate body, a
declaration of the doctrines held to be at once
orthodox and obligatory.
The faith of Christ, it must be remembered,
had been long and patiently contending not only

32 The Council of Nicsea
with the world's principalities and powers. It
had been not only pleading for the infusion of a
nobler and purer spirit into men's daily walk and
conversation ; but, of necessity, it had been offer
ing itself to the serious consideration of thought
ful and philosophic minds, Je-wish and Gentile
ahke. The loftier tone of its life, the self-sacri
fice it inculcated, and which its adherents ad
mittedly displayed with a constancy that failed
them not in dungeon or in amphitheatre, com
pelled attention to its evident power. Thus did
Christianity attract to itself many from the midst
of pagan thought and culture, who deserved,
more or less, the title of philosophers. The in
fluence of such converts, whether Greeks, Romans,
or Asiatics, could not fail to produce a marked
effect upon the Christian conception of God, of
his attributes, and of his relationship to his
creatures. How far Christianity, as generally
accepted in the fourth century, is indebted to
the contributions of the nations around is a ques
tion which has not yet perhaps received a com
plete Teply.
The thoughtful philosopher and the devout
Christian apologist could not but exchange ideas
upon the nature of the Deity. But as Dr. Mar-
tineau says^ : ' The condition of the world ren
dered it inevitable that the Hellenic thought
should penetrate and win the Hebrew ; impossible
1 ' Essays,' Vol. ii. p. 323.

Greek Thought and Christianity 33
that the Hebrew should at all considerably in
fluence the Hellenic'
And the result was that the attention of the
exponents of Christianity became more closely
concentrated on matters of speculative opinion,
and on points of doctrine, which were increas
ingly regarded as questions of primary import
ance to the believer. The Christian rehgion,
therefore, will be seen to absorb into itself con
ceptions of the Deity somewhat different from
those put forth by its first preachers ; and from
that time to the present day those conceptions
have exerted a sure, and a most tenacious influ
ence upon the behef of Christendom, touching the
nature and office of Jesus, and his rank, in the
hierarchy of being.
Very observable is the difference in regard to
the object of Christian worship in the period
following the Council of Nicsea, when compared
with the direction of that worship in the first
two centuries of our era. Among the faithful
of that earher time prayer was addressed to God
the Father, through Jesus Christ ; but, in the
later age, the Christian disciple had learned from
his Pagan convert to speak of Christ in different
terms from those to which his predecessors had
been accustomed.
But contemporary hterature affords evidence
that to these newer doctrines the early Christians
were, at first, strongly, and it may be truly said,

34 The Council of Nicaea
even violently opposed ; the very word ' Trinity '
being a cause of offence to the general body of
behevers. For example, TertuUian, writing about the
beginning of the third century, clearly reveals
his impatience •with the Roman Christians for
constantly ' bawhng out,' to use his own ex
pression, against it. Equally is he disturbed
because the Greek Christians remain quite un-
con-vinced by his own elaborate exposition of
the doctrine involved in the word.
Christendom is so conversant with the rise
and development of the great Arian Controversy,
that it will be sufficient here briefiy to note the
points in its progress which preceded and necessi
tated the Council of Nicsea.
About the end of the third century SabeUius,
Bishop of Cyrene, in Africa, promulgated the idea
that the three persons in the Trinity were reaUy
no more than three characters of the same Deity.
' His central proposition,' it has been observed,
* was to the effect that Father, Son, and Holy
Spirit are the same person, three names thus
being attached to one and the same being.' His
theology therefore, was essentiaUy monotheistic.
In the East, and in Africa, this teaching, known
as Sabellianism, gained no httle acceptance. But
all such doctrine met neither with compromise
nor tolerance from Alexander, at that time Bishop
of Alexandria. In opposition to it, that prelate

The Arian Controversy 35
declared ' that the Father did not precede the
Son a single moment, and that the Son had issued
from aU etemity out of the substance of the Father
himself.' To that statement a Presbyter in the
Alexandrian Church, who was none other than
Arius himself, took grave exception, and felt
himself impelled to reply. At such opposition
the Bishop ' was very angry,' and forthwith com
manded Arius to lay aside his heretical views.
Arius met such a mandate with a prompt
refusal, and, as a result, a body of one hundred
Ecclesiastics, under the presidency of the Bishop
of Alexandria, hasten to anathematize and to
excommunicate Arius himself, and all who shared
his opinions.
Against that action, it is needless to say, that
Arius protested and appealed, and thus was com
menced the Arian controversy, destined to con
vulse the Christian world for generations, nor
can it be said that the fire it kindled is subdued
even yet ? What was Christ's nature ? That
was the question of most tremendous moment
in the fourth century, and it is still a question
on which men differ strongly, frankly, and irrecon
cilably. No sooner had the controversy begun
than the Eastern Church was the scene of fierce
dissensions. At that time the throne of the Roman world
was fiUed by the first Christian Emperor, Con
stantine the Great. He had been striving, and

36 The Council of Nicsea
with wonderful success, after unity of Empire,
and to his purposes, ' a man of affairs,' as he was, ,
such differences and controversies in the Church
must have appeared most inimical.
As the storm of controversy grew in fierceness,.
arid in extent, no man strove to quiet it more.
earnestly than did Constantine. He could have
wished for nothing but peace and progress for the
Church, when his empire had been won for him by
the swords of his Christian soldiers. Just as he
aimed to make his temporal sway one and in
divisible, so, in a letter addressed by him to both
disputants jointly — to Alexander and to Arius — ¦.
he made it plain that his great desire was to
establish throughout his dominions ' some one
definite and complete form, of religious worship.'
In the same letter, according to the testimony.
of the Christian historian, Eusebius, he offers
timely and sensible counsel to these controver
sialists. ' My advice,' he says, ' is neither to ask
nor answer questions, which, instead of being
scriptural, are the mere sport of idleness, or an
exercise of abihty ; at best keep them to your
selves, and do not publish them. You agree in
fundamentals.' But the theologian and the statesman could
not look at this great question from the same point
of view ; and it is little to be wondered at that
Constantine's appeal was unheeded.
Discussion waxed fiercer, and nothing remained

Emperor summons the Council 37
-but for the Emperor to summon the second Church
¦Council, which met at Nicaea, a.d. 325, attended
by three hundred and eighteen Bishops, and
opened by the Emperor Constantine in person.
By aU who wish a graphic picture of that im
pressive scene recourse may well be had to Dean
Stanley's presentment of it, in his history of the
Eastern Church. Most interesting is the earnest
and manly appeal made by the Emperor to the
prelates gathered before him, for forbearance, and
for unity of spirit in deliberations fraught with
import to aU Christendom.
It is difficult to see how the story of this Council
can be read by any sincerely religious man without
feehngs of deep sorrow and regret. Looking back
upon the time, a modern visiter declares that ' the
history of the Church presents to the reader a
perpetual scene of tumult and violence ' ; and in
confirmation of such an utterance the ecclesiastical
historian, Eusebius, the trusted friend of the
Emperor who convened the Council, expresses his
conviction that ' an Evil Demon, who en-vied the
peace and prosperity of the Church, set us at
variance.' Such words are indicative of but a poor response
from the assembled Churchmen to the Emperor's
prayer for charitableness towards one another.
It is with a sense of shame that we find them
presenting to Constantine petitions in their own
self-interest, or accusations against each other.

38 The Covmcil of Nicsea
Before them all, the Emperor bums these un
worthy indictments, which dishonoured those who
brought them, and once more rebuking them for
their self-seeking he commends their deliberations
to the guidance of God's spirit.
The spirit of their debate may be easily divined.
What consideration might Arius expect from men
who were at discord among themselves ? All
the less, surely, from the anticipation that their
quarrels with one another might be forgotten in
their onslaught upon himself. And no issue save
an unsatisfactory one could possibly attend the
proceedings of a congress so unworthily begun.
It is not too much to say that the Council to which
Arius appealed showed itself generally hostile to
him from the very first. His plea was met not
only by angry words, but by fierce blows, for it is
on record that in impatient anger at the forcible
utterances of Arius, Nicholas, the Bishop of Mjrra,
possibly unable to answer Arius in argument;
struck him on the face.
And further, during the session of the CouncU,
and before its decision was issued, a term for
tuitously found, was adopted, and dehberately
inserted in the doctrinal statement promulgated
by the Council, because the majority were assured
that the Arian party would never accept such an
expression as correctly setting forth the relation
ship of Christ to God.
Christ was declared to be ' of the substance of

Condemnation of Arius 39
the Father.' That was the doctrinal statement
so ably and so persistently defended by Athanasius,
a Deacon in the same Alexandrian Church in which
Arius was a Presbyter. For the hour, as we know,
the triumph of Athanasius was complete, but the
saddest memory of the Council of Nicsea remains
to be recorded. It was not only that Arius and
those who held his views were adjudged to be
heretical. Their opponents were perfectly jus
tified in sa5dng so, if they believed it ; but a
terrible precedent was estabhshed.
It wiU be remembered that the Emperor desired
one definite form of faith and worship throughout
aU his vast dominions. In pursuance of that
desire Constantine resorted to the infliction of
civil punishment for heretical opinions. The
secular power of the state was invoked against
all who differed from the faith published at Nicsea,
which ' established respecting the two first per
sons of the Trinity, the Doctrine which the Church
still professes in the Nicene Creed.' And the
same authority^ reminds us that in a formal
Edict addressed to the Bishops and to the people,
' Constantine consigned the books of Arius to
the flames, nearly in the following terms — " If
any man be found to have concealed a copy
of those Books, and not to have instantly pro
duced it, and thrown it into the fire, he shall be
put to death. The moment he is convicted of
1 Waddington : ' History of the Church,' p. 93.

40 The Council of Nicsea
this, he shaU be subjected to capital punishment." '
Such a sentence, however, recorded by Socrates
the historian, did not long stand. Soon we find
Constantine himself veering round to the opinions
of the man he was thus oppressing, and driving
Athanasius into that banishment whence Arius
was recaUed. The time came when the Arians,
in their turn, dealt out to their opponents, without
compunction, the persecution from which they
had themselves suffered ; but in justice to
Athanasius it must be recorded that no trials
or sufferings availed to shake him from his con
stancy and consistency.
But when the CoimcU closed, what recoUections
could its members carry away with them ? What
signified the ' sound and fury ' inseparable from
their remembrance of the scene ? As the Christian
chronicler has said, ' it was like a battle fought
in the dark, for neither party seemed at aU to
understand on what ground they vihfied each
other.' . In the beginning of the controversy Constantine
had asked both parties whether they did not
agree upon essentials ? And when Athanasius so
boldly defended the doctrine that Christ was ' of
one substance with the Father,' we know from his
own words that he reaUy meant that Christ was
' the true offspring of the substance of the Father,'
while he goes so far as to declare that ' the sub
stance of the Father was the beginning, the root,

Greek and Hebrew Contentions 41
the fountain, of the Son.' It cannot therefore be
said that such a conception of the nature of
Christ is identical 'with the statements in the
Creed commonly yet erroneously associated with
Athanasius's name. It may perhaps be per
missible to say that Athanasius, consciously or
unconsciously, was in reality contending for the
Greek conception of the Deity, which was that
of the immanence of God in human nature ;
while the estimate of God formed by Arius
was that of God transcending all nature, and
whose ineffable substance no created being could
share, an estimate founded upon the venerable
Hebrew idea of God, as supreme, apart from, and
above aU.
If there be any truth in such a thought, there is
yet a living interest in those deep questionings
concerning the Divine nature, which wiU surely
exercise the human mind as long as man can
think at aU. It was vainly thought that all such
questions were finally and exhaustively laid to
rest, when the Council of Nicaea declared Jesus
Christ to be ' of the substance of the Father,
God of God, and Light of Light, very God of
very God ' ; and when that decree was supported
by pains and penalties for aU who rejected it.
Such a doctrine, promulgated some three cen
turies after the death of Jesus, was set forth in
terms that would have sounded strangely indeed
in the ears of the first disciples. It would surely

42 The Council of Nicsea
appeal vainly to their faithful successors, who
treasured their beloved Master's emphatic re-
assertion of the old truth that ' the Lord our God
is one Lord ' ; and who shared the faith that
cheered the heart of Paul, who bowed his knee unto
the God and Father of Jesus Christ, in abiding
reliance upon ' one Lord, one faith, one baptism,
one God and Father of aU, who is above aU and
through all, and in us all.'

Ill
THE COUNCIL OF CONSTANTINOPLE
A.D. 381
Widespread theological speculation speedily
foUowed the action of the Council of Nicaea, the
purpose of which was the establishment of finality
of doctrine. Little else, indeed, could have been
expected from such an attempt to express in
finite terms the attributes and the essence of
Deity ; for in men's efforts to define the undefin-
able their inteUect and faith were taxed in vain.
In the half-century following the promulgation
of the Nicene confession of faith, one theological
theory was s-wiftly succeeded by another, and as
each such appeared it was promptly declared to
be heretical by those who differed from it.
Instead of banishing uncertainty from man's
conceptions of the Deity, ' the commotions,' says
the historian Mosheim,^ ' excited by this contro
versy remained yet in the minds of many, and the
spirit of discussion and controversy triumphed
1 Ecc. Hist., Vol. i. p. 416.

44 The Council of Constantinople
both over the decrees of the council and the
authority of the emperor.'
A brief glance at the differing theories which
found adherents will reveal the perplexity under
which the Christian world was labouring.
In the first place, there was the conception of the
genuine Arians, that the Son was not begotten of
the Father, that is, was not ' consubstantial ' with
him, but was created out of nothing. That
theory was unacceptable to a party known as
the Semi-Arians, who held that the Son was
similar to the Father in his essence, only by a
peculiar privilege, and not by nature ; while yet
another section of the Arians accepted the view
pf Eunomius, who boldly taught that the Son was
unlike the Father both in his essence and in all
other respects.
Such views were of course branded as heretical
by the foUowers of Athanasius ; but the very
vehemence of their onslaughts upon the position
of the Arians resulted in charges of heresy against
theologians ranking as Orthodox.
No man more earnestly defended the doctrine
of Christ's Deity against Arius than did ApoUinaris,
the Bishop of Laodicea ; but his warm partisan
ship hurried him into extremes. His theory was
that the body, which Christ assumed, was not
endowed with a rational soul, for the Divine
Nature supplied, in Christ, the place of the mind,
the spiritual, the inteUectual principle in man.

Increase of Speculative Theology 45
And so this defender of Orthodox Christianity
was judged to be heretical, inasmuch as such a
conception resulted in the blending of the Divine
Nature with the human, which induced the idea-
that Christ's Divine Nature, with his human,
nature, actually suffered crucifixion and death.
The charge of heresy was very reasonably ad
vanced against the views attributed to Marcellus
of Ancyra, who. went so far as to say that the Son-
and the Holy Ghost were to be regarded as emana
tions from the Di-vine Nature, which would sub
sequently and finally return again into the sub
stance of the Father. Such a theory was at
once seen to be incompatible with the belief of
three distinct persons in the Godhead.
One teacher there was, Photinus, the Bishop of
Sirmium, whose views were condemned alike by
the Athanasian party, and by their opponents.'
He frankly acknowledged Christ as having been
bom of the Holy Ghost and the Virgin Mary,
but held that a certain divine emanation, which
he termed ' the word,' descended on Jesus, and
it was on account of the union of the divine word.
with his human nature that Jesus was called the
Son of God, and even God himself. The Holy
Ghost, too, was declared by Photinus to be not a
distinct person, but a celestial virtue proceeding
from the Deity.
To the party of Athanasius such teaching was
intolerable heresy ; but it found acceptance with

46 The Council of Constantinople
many, prominent amongst whom was Macedonius,
Bishop of Constantinople, who boldly declared
the Holy Ghost to be no more than a divine
energy diffused throughout the universe, and in
no sense a person distinct from the Father and
the Son.
Notwithstanding the declarations of the Nicene
Council, the generation foUo-wing it became the
prey of uncertainty and speculation. The doctrine
of the Logos — ' the Word ' — was almost entirely
the creation of philosophical heathenism, and
formed the contribution of Greek thought to
Christianity as authoritatively set forth in the
Nicene Creed.
' We may say with truth,' says Dr. Burton,*
' that between the general foUowers of Plato,
and the corrupters of his doctrine, the whole
learned world from Athens to Alexandria, and
from Rome to Asia Minor, was beset with philo
sophical systems, in every one of which the term
" Logos " — " Word " — ^held a conspicuous place.'
With equal reason, too, Lord Macaulay has de
clared that ' Christianity conquered Paganism,
but Paganism infected Christianity. The rites of
the Pantheon were introduced into her institutions,
and the subtleties of the Academy into her creed.'^
These troubles were reflected in the decisions
of many Councils, of greater or of lesser influ-
1 ' Bampton Lectures' for 1829, p. 215.
2 Essay on ' Lord Bacon.'

State Influence on Church 47
ence, some forty-five such assembhes meeting dur
ing the fourth century. Of these no less than
thirty were held to be unsatisfactory to the
adherents of the Athanasian theology. Notably
was this the case in regard to the Council of
Rimini that declared for Arianism, a.d. 360,
when, to quote the weU-known words of Jerome,
' the whole world groaned and wondered to find
itself Arian.'
To the impartial student of religious history,
having due regard to the conditions of the time,
these words -wiU signify no more than the restless
ness of the human mind beneath the exciting
claims of antagonistic theories.
But there is another factor in the determina
tion of the precise form of Christian doctrine, of
which due account must be taken. The most
striking fact in the history of Church life and
doctrine in the fourth century is this — that the
Churchman and the Statesman then began their
partnership in influencing and enforcing the form
and character of religious behef. That was the
grave precedent set by the attitude of Con
stantine at the Council of Nicaea ; and from that
day, on to the assembly of the Council of
Constantinople, and through many a subsequent
century, the fortunes of ecclesiasticism are seen
to be inseparably linked with the feelings of
the temporal ruler, or with the schemes of the
politician.

48 The Council of Constantinople
At the time of Constantine the civil power was
successfully invoked by the Athanasians for the
silencing of their opponents. The wiU of the
monarch became the arbiter of the Church's faith ;
the Church had indeed appealed unto Caesar, and
by that fact she made him her over-lord. People
were soon to learn how much depended on the
feelings, and even on the caprice, of the ruhng
sovereign. For the claims of truth such influences involved
disaster. Stained -with the murders of his briUiant
son, Crispus, and of his wife, Fausta, and deferring
the remission of his sins by baptism tiU the rite
was administered to him by an Arian bishop, as
he lay upon his death-bed, httle account could
be taken either by Arian or Athanasian of the
reality of such an emperor's faith. When Con
stantine had passed away, his son Constantius
dealt out with an unsparing hand the sorrows of
persecution against the foUowers of Athanasius.
Both parties, let it be frankly admitted, dis
honoured the cause they respectively sought to
serve, by the remorseless persecution of one
anather ; but although, at the alternate bidding
of Athanasian and of Arian, the streets of Alex
andria, and of other cities also, became scenes of
riot and of bloodshed, such exchanges from the
role of the persecutor to that of the persecuted
were barren of proof as to the truth or error of
the opinions of these impassioned disputants.

Tolerant Spirit of Arianism 49
It would be unjust to forget the inflexible and
fearless consistency which marked the character
and attitude of Athanasius ; but Christian history
testifies to the fact that the Arians generaUy were
certainly more inchned to toleration than were
their Athanasian opponents. Their antagonism
was more especiaUy directed upbn the anathemas
pronounced against Arius, and those who beheved
as he did. Obstinate they might have been, and
doubtless were, but in the words of an old writer,
* their obstinacy arose, not from want of faith,
but from excess of charity.' They would be
spiritually represented to-day by that increasing
number of believers who revolt against being
compeUed to read the damnatory clauses of what
is commonly called ' the Creed of Athanasius.'
In this respect there is clearly discernible a contrast
in the spirit animating these opposing schools of
thought. The Arians, hke their adversaries, had
no scruples as to taking the sword and fighting
for their creed, and persecuting their opponents ;
but they saw a virtue in tolerance which Athan
asius and his foUowers conscientiously held to
be virtue misplaced. Like these latter, the
Arians coveted the place of power ; and gaining
that power, they would be tolerant to brethren
of other views within the Christian fold, and even
to the representatives of the old Pagan religion,
which still survived in strength sufficient to
attract attention, if not to compel respect. ' Let

50 The Council of Constantinople
all,' says the Arian Bishop Eusebius, ' enjoy the
same spirit, let no one disturb another in his
rehgious worship, let each act as he thinks fit.
Let those, who -withhold their obedience from
thee, have their temples of falsehood, if they
thmk fit.'
That such counsel reflected the bearing of
Christian to Christian, in the age under considera
tion, it is impossible to believe. Such kindly
thoughts may be characterized only as ' appearing
ere the times were ripe ' ; especiaUy when we
remember how a pagan writer, MarceUinus, look
ing on at the fierce controversy, is found to say
that ' No -wild beast was so cruel an enemy to man,
as most of the Christians were to each other.'
In a word, then, the faith of the Arian was
distinctly associated with what in the present day
would be termed a spirit of hberahty, and that
estabhshes a far higher claim to our respectful
regard than any assertion of theological dogmas,
however correct we may hold such to be. It is
here that we touch the nobler side of Arianism,
and if this be at aU a just estimate of the spirit
of its worthiest confessors, it should not surprise
us to read that ' there can be no doubt that the
profession of Arianism was common and even
general throughout the East, towards the end of
the fourth century, and that in some of the Asiatic
pro-vinces, especiaUy Syria, such may have been
the real behef of the majority.'

Attitude of Theodosius 51
But as one Emperor succeeds another his own
pecuhar opinion is found to influence the opinion
of his subjects, for in those rude times the favour
of the ruler was a matter of gravest import.
Accordingly the Church at one time seems to be
Arian, and at another time Athanasian ; for in
the hne of Emperors from Constantine to Theo
dosius, two only, Valentinian the Christian, and
Julian the Pagan, can be said to have kept them
selves free from prejudice in favour of one side
or the other.
Again and again the flames of controversy were
rekindled, and its course was marked by varying
fortune, down to the time when the strong per
sonality of the Emperor Theodosius made itself
felt not only in the State but in the Church also.
In a fashion, paralleled by our own King Henry
VIII, he made it plain to aU concerned that he
intended to be master in his own house, even to
the ruling of its faith and doctrine.
Theodosius was a staunch and an uncompromis
ing supporter of Athanasian theology. Not un-
naturaUy the aim of this masterful ruler of the
Roman world was unity — not only pohtical but
rehgious also. He must be credited, too, vsdth a
very keen sense of the damage which these fierce
theological controversies might involve to the
State ; and so strong was the spirit of controversy,
not only 'with regard to the nature and attributes
of Christ, but conceming those also of the Holy

52 The Council of Constantinople
Spirit, that a General Council of the Church was
deemed essential. To reaffirm the doctrines
published at Nicaea, and to set forth orthodox
Christian belief touching the Holy Spirit, to
banish uncertainty, and to unify Christian doctrine
the Emperor Theodosius took it upon himself to
convoke a Council at Constantinople, a.d. 381.
Of the purpose of that assembly we are left in
no doubt, for in the year which preceded its
deliberations, we find a decree issued in the name
of Theodosius, and his two coUeagues in the
Empire, to the foUowing effect — ' We, the three
Emperors, will that all our subjects follow the
religion taught by St. Peter to the Romans . . .
that they believe the one divinity of the Father,
Son, and Holy Spirit, of majesty co-equal in the
Holy Trinity. We wiU that those who embrace
this creed be called Cathohc Christians. We
brand all the senseless foUowers of other religions
by the infamous name of heretics, and forbid their
conventicles to assume the name of churches.
We reserve their punishment to the vengeance of
heaven, and to such measures as divine inspira
tion shall dictate to us.'
Now it is to be noted that in these words we
have a definite, an official declaration of Trinit
arian doctrine not from the lips of a Father in the
Church but from a secular ruler, and the vast
increase in the influence of the State over the
Church may be fairly inferred from the fact that

The Spirit of the Council 53
the summons to the Council was issued not by a
Patriarch, or by a representative body of ecclesi
astics, but by the Emperor himself.
That summons was obeyed by some hundred
and fifty Bishops, and the spirit of their delibera
tions, and the character of their conclusions, may
be gleaned from Dr. Jortin's scathing allusion to
the Council in his ' Notes on Ecclesiastical History,'
where he gives it as his opinion that ' a Council of
gladiators held in an amphitheatre would be as
venerable as that of the Constantinopolitan
Fathers ' ; while he scruples not to add that,
¦ if such Councils made righteous decrees it must
have beeu'by strange good luck.'
From such a Council it was that there issued
a decree authoritatively estabhshing as a -vital
point in Christian theology, the doctrine of the
Godhead of the Holy Ghost. ' We believe,' so
ran the declaration, ' in the Holy Spirit, the Lord
and Giver of Life, who proceedeth from the
Father, and who ought to be adored and glorified
with the Father and the Son.'
That doctrine was not only promulgated, it
was enforced, even as Theodosius told the Arians
it would be, uncompromisingly and pitilessly ; for,
said he to the Arian Bishops some two years after
the decree, ' I wiU not permit throughout my
dominions any other religion than that which
obliges us to worship the Son of God, in unity df
essence with the Father and Holy Ghost in the

54 The Council of Constantinople
adorable Trinity. As I hold the empire from Him,
and the power I have to command you. He like
wise wiU give me strength, as He hath given me the
will, to make myself obeyed in a point so absolutely
necessary to your salvation and to the peace of my
subjects.' We read in Waddington's 'History of the
Church,' 1 that ' the severities ' of Theodosius
' were attended by general and lasting success,
and the doctrine of Arius, if not perfectly extir
pated, withered from that moment rapidly and ir
recoverably throughout the Pro-vinces of the East.'
In a statement that cannot be gainsaid, Theo
dosius is revealed as a prince among persecutors,
by Gibbon,^ who teUs us that ' in the space of
fifteen years Theodosius issued no less than
fifteen severe edicts, more especially against those
who rejected the doctrine of the Trinity ; and, to
deprive them of every hope of escape, he sternly
enacted that if any laws or rescripts should be
aUeged in their favour the judges should con
sider them as the iUegal productions of either
fraud or forgery.'
In such fashion, and by such means, the decree
of the Council of Constantinople was firmly estab
hshed. Thenceforth, and by vast bodies of
Christians stiU, the doctrine of the Godhead of
the Third Person in the Holy Trinity is to be held
as essential to everlasting salvation.
1 p. 99. * Vol. Ill, xxvii.

Arianism among the Goths 55
For a while Arianism found acceptance among
the Goths. There is much in Dean Milman's
sapng that those Teutons were ' unable to com
prehend the fine and subtle distinctions of the
Trinitarian faith,' while he pays no mean tribute
to the spirit of the Arians when he declares that
the Arian Goths ' were singularly tolerant of the
orthodox tenets, and of the Cathohc clergy.'*
1 ' History of Christianity.' VoL iii. p. 58, note.

IV
THE COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON, A.D. 451
A JUST estimate of the work and of the results
of the early Church CouncUs necessitates our
consideration of the circumstances and the strong
feelings of the disputants who sought the decision
of such assemblies.
The retrospect is a sad one, and is acknowledged
to be such by heretic and orthodox alike.
The story of those times is one of passionate
discussion, of confused thought, of relentless
persecution, of strife, and even of bloodshed.
From the shame of these things there was not a
single one of the parties in these controversies
that could free itself ; whilst above it aU, and
perhaps the very cause of it, brooded the dark
spirit of superstition.
In fact, the truer our appreciation of the times,
and of the men who. lived in them, the greater is
our astonishment, and our regret also, at finding
these men, of mental equipment so inadequate,
with hearts so manifestly swayed by passion,

Renewal of Controversy 57
ambition, and motives which historians have
condemned as unworthy of their caUing, held
up as guides and arbiters in matters of faith.
They are inadequate teachers and exemplars for
wise and worthy men in every branch of the
Christian Church to-day, who are far more capable
of instructing us conceming the things that be of
God, and of commending to us by their own
conduct and conversation the excellence of the
Christian life.
Notwithstanding, then, the decisions of the two
great Councils of the fourth century at Nicsea
and at Constantinople, the spirit of controversy
was not exorcised from the Church. If heresy
and orthodoxy had fought out their differences
on one field, other causes of debate remained, and,
o-wing to the spirit of the age, were perhaps not
unwillingly embraced.
' If,' says one old English divine,* ' we reflect
seriously on these furious contentions, we shall
see that the Christians of those times had a much
stronger desire to dispute and quarrel than to
discover truth.'
It may be urged, of course, that one Council
had settled the controversy as to the Godhead of
Christ, and another had decreed the coequal
Godhead of the Third Person in the Trinity. But
what, it may be asked, was really settled in those
times of political strife and of theological restless-
^ Jortin iv. p. 282.

58 The Council of Chalcedon
ness ? Little, after aU, surely ; and when spurious
miracles were invoked in confirmation of declared
faith, even an apologist of them is driven to say
that these miracles were not necessary to convince
men of the truth, or to confirm their faith, because
the Christian religion was already satisfactorily
established and confirmed by imperial laws. And
yet, for aU the external authority which men
imagined they had secured for their faith, we
know that ' Christianity was now embarrassed
with intricate disputes, rash decisions, new cere
monies, and awkward practices much more
adapted to destroy than to augment true piety.'
And, indeed, another question so intricate as
to defy solution at the hands of such ill-quahfied
disputants as that age furnished was destined, not
unnaturally, to foUow upon the dogmatic pro
nouncements of the last two great Councils.
The fierce discussion, productive of so much
evil to the Church, turned upon the question
concerning the rightful title to be given to the
Virgin Mary. Was it right to caU her ' the
Mother of God ' ? In the contradictory answers
given to that question are to be found the seeds
of future altercation, of anathematisms, and
finally of sanguinary conflicts. The contention,
be it remembered, was not one between heretic and
orthodox ; it was waged, and most fiercely too,
between men who were ahke zealous for what
may be termed generaUy the orthodox faith.

The title ' Mother of Jesus ' 59
Nestorius, Bishop of Constantinople in the year
428, took up the defence of his friend the Presbyter
Anastasius, who averred that it was wrong to call
the Virgin Mary ' the Mother of God,' for she
could only be entitled ' the Mother of Christ.'
For his defence of such a statement Nestorius
was vehemently assailed by Cyril, the Bishop of
Alexandria. But the contest between these two
prelates ' proceeded,' as the historian Mosheim
has declared,* ' rather from conupt motives of
jealousy and ambition, than from a sincere and
disinterested zeal for truth, and was the source of
evils and calamities without number.'
It is a sorry spectacle presented by the an
tagonism of these two accredited piUars of the
faith. Twelve anathemas were uttered by the
party of Cyril against Nestorius, and with a view
of appeasing their mutual -violence, the Emperor
Theodosius II was moved to summon a General
Council. Ephesus was the meeting-place, and
thither these disputants repaired to consider and
to define the twofold nature of Christ, because the
title to be given to the Virgin Mary clearly de
pended on what was held to be the orthodox
estimate of the nature of Christ.
' No Council,' it has been said, ' had hitherto
decreed anything conceming the manner and
effect of this union of the two natures ' in Christ.
On this great question Cyril found himself opposed
1 Ecc. Hist., Vol. U. p. 68.

60 The Council of Chalcedon
hot only to Nestorius but also to John, the Bishop
of Antioch, who was supported by the Syrian
prelates, with whom by slow stages he journeyed
to Ephesus. Well has it been declared by the
historian Mosheim that this Council at Ephesus
was ' full of low artifice, contrary to all rules of
justice, and even destitute of common decency.'
Eager for himself, Cyril seizes the president's
seat, thus becoming as it were judge as well as
pleader in his own court. He refuses to wait the
arrival of John of Antioch, the friend of his
opponent, Nestorius, who had refused to assent
that God was born of Mary, and was condemned
and anathematized without being permitted a
word in his own defence. Tumults throughout
the city followed hard upon the discussions within
the Council, and that Council was dismissed after
an obstinate dispute between the Alexandrian and
the Syrian Bishops, who in their turn fiercely
anathematised Cyril and his partisans. Sadly
significant of the unworthy spirit of the members
of that first Council at Ephesus were the final
words which the Emperor addressed to them : —
* God is my witness that I am not the author of
this confusion. His pro-vidence -wiU discern and
punish the guilty. Return to your provinces, and
may your private virtues repair the mischief and
scandal of your meeting.' Nestorius was then
adjudged heretical. He was held to have denied
Christ's divine nature, and sentence of banishment

Assembly of the Robber Council 61
was pronounced upon the aged prelate. Dragged
hither and thither from one place of exile to an
other, he soon found in death that merciful rest
which his adversaries had denied him in hfe.
With the persecuted, the persecutor Cyril had
passed too into the final peace ; but the war of
words and of opinions which they had waged was
waked anew. A meet successor to the imperious
and dogmatic Cyril was found in the truculent
spirit of Dioscorus, the next Bishop of Alexandria.
And then out of very aversion to the opinions of
Nestorius, a new heresy was bom ; and that was
associated with the name of Eutyches, Abbot
of a convent in Constantinople. Eutyches de
clared without reserve ' that in Christ there was
but one nature — that of the incarnate word.' In
that declaration Dioscorus supported him ; but
the flames of controversy were kindled afresh,
and loud was the contention that Eutyches was
as heretical as Nestorius, in regard to the two
natures in Christ, for Eutyches was denying
Christ's human nature, even as belief in his divine
nature had been imperilled by the teaching of
Nestorius. Again the Emperor Theodosius II is besought
to convoke a Council of the Church, and in the
year 449 there meets an assembly once more in
the city of Ephesus, when, as it has been truly said,
the tumults which had disgraced the Church at
the previous Council in the year 431 were repeated.

62 The Council of Chalcedon
with some additional brutalities, in the year 449.
Nor is it a matter for surprise to find that this
meeting has never been reckoned among the
General Councils of the Church, since the recollec
tion of the shameless passion and outrage that
characterized its procedure does dishonour to our
common Christianity. It has ever since been
remembered in Church history as 'The Robber
Council,' for the simple reason that ' ever5H;hing,'
as Mosheim says,* ' was carried in it by fraud
or violence,' whilst, to our regret, we find the same
writer recording his conviction that ' many
CouncUs, indeed, both in this and the foUowing
ages, are equaUy entitled to the same dishonour
able appeUation.'
From the very composition of this Council
neither justice nor 'wisdom could be expected.
From partiality, or else from weakness, the
Emperor selected the intolerant and passionate
Dioscorus, the head of the Eg57ptian Church, to
be the President ; and never did a Christian
Bishop draw after him a stranger, a fiercer, or a
more ignorant foUo'wing. The historian. Gibbon,
reminds us of ' the swarms of monks who arose
from the Nile, overspread and darkened the face
of the Christian world.' These were such as had
stained the streets of Alexandria with blood, and
who were chargeable with the murder of Hypatia !
Under their truculent leader, the Abbot Barsumas,
1 Vol. ii. p. ¦j'j.

Violent Proceedings 63
they lent support to their Bishop, whose word was
strengthened also ' by a troop of bra-wny hospital
waiters and soldiers who were admitted into the
assembly,' as Neander tells us,* ' for the purpose
of intimidating refractory members.' And as if
to leave no doubt of his partiality, the Emperor
himself ' appointed two civil officers — men of
approved orthodoxy — to attend the proceedings
as his plenipotentiaries,' who were ' authorized
to remove every man who was bold enough to
express freely his own convictions in opposition '
to the party of the Bishop of Alexandria.
The whole narrative is disheartening to the
last degree. Sore were the wounds inflicted upon
the religion of Christ, ' through the cowardice or
entire want of character shown by so many of
the bishops, to whom,' as Neander frankly declares,
' the truth was not the highest of aU interests.'
And one thing more remains to be said touching
the composition of this same Council ; for, in the
words of Dr. Jortin, ' some of these Fathers could
not 'write their own name, and in the Council they
were obhged to employ others to do it for them.'^
In brief, it was a furious monkish rabble, and a
company of incompetent and terror-stricken eccles
iastics, swayed by a passionate president and a
prejudiced emperor, that set themselves to con
sider so difficult a question as that of the nature
of Christ. 1 Vol. iv. p. 213. * Vol. iv. p. 276.

64 The Council of Chalcedon
From such men as the gentle Theodoret, and
Flavian, the Patriarch of Constantinople, ' the
words of tmth and soberness ' were indeed heard ;
but imagination fails to reahze the impatient
ferocity with which they were assailed, or the
unthinking passion with which every declaration
of the fierce Dioscorus was acclaimed as nothing
less than ' the voice of the Holy Spirit ' ! Angry
cries greeted any man who in that wild assembly
pleaded for the doctrine of two natures in Christ !
' Divide asunder the man himself who speaks of
two natures ! ' ' Let him be burnt alive ! ' 'As
he has cut asunder Christ, so let him be cut
asunder ! ' And so, not imnaturally, this passion-
tossed crowd came from words to blows. A
maddened onslaught was made on Flavian of
Constantinople ; and Barsumas, the leader of
those rough Egyptian monks, was he who actuaUy
assisted Dioscorus and his guards in fataUy
scourging Flavian, at this terrible assembly of
maddened, ignorant, and bloodthirsty partisans.
Little is it to be wondered at that the orthodox
bishops sought to shun the fury that was rampant.
They hid behind piUars, they crept for shelter
into friendly comers, they drew themselves
beneath the benches to escape the blows of the
monks and of the soldiery, in what, with terrible
irony, the historian caUs ' that pious assembly ' !
As dogs may worry sheep and drive them to
the fold, so were those timid Churchmen driven

Dissatisfaction with Council 65
before the violence of their opponents. Unarmed,
and stupefied by fear, they were ' hurried along
against their -will,' and repeated by rote ' whatever
was prescribed to them.' More stiU remains to
be told. By actual force they were constrained
to subscribe to the decisions of the Council.
They were kept in durance for a whole day in
the church. They were threatened and brow
beaten by the monkish throng, backed by the
rough soldiery, and, in conclusion, ' blank papers
were laid before them for their signature, which
could afterwards be fiUed up with whatever the
predominant party chose. These were the men,
who, by such consideration of the subject of
debate, recorded their decision upon a point of
theology demanding the most careful and calm
discussion. And that decision was, that Eutyches
was right, and that ' there was in Christ but one
nature, and that was the incarnate word.'
None but the Egyptian zealots could rest satis
fied with the decision of 'The Robber Council,'
and those whose position had been condemned
thereby, made appeal to no Eastern prince or
prelate. But the fact of lasting import to the
Christian world is that appeal was made for the
good offices of Leo, the Bishop of Rome, who
was entreated to move the Emperor to summon
another General Church Covmcil, to repair the
evil declared to be wrought at ' The Robber
Coimcil."

66 The Council of Chalcedon
' The Roman pontiff,' says Mosheim, ' was the
ordinary refuge of the oppressed and conquered
party in this century.' Before the death of
Theodosius, Leo had urged the need of a General
Council, to which suggestion no heed was paid,
but on the accession of Marcian a favourable
answer was given to Leo's renewed appeal. The
Roman Bishop set forth the perplexed condition
of the Church as demanding the summoning of a
Council composed out of the Church Universal.
Consent was given, and Nicaea was originaUy
selected as the place of meeting. It became only
too apparent that the tactics of the fanatics who
had shouted for Dioscorus, and crueUy scourged
Flavian, would be repeated, and therefore the
emperor, whose presence at the CouncU was
declared by the Roman pontiff to be essential,
transferred it to Chalcedon, and so brought it
under the restraining influence of the government.
There the Council met in the year 451 ; and
thence went forth the decree which was to be
accepted as orthodox in regard to the doctrine of
the two natures in Christ.
If we inquire as to the spirit in which the Fathers
of the Church, Egyptian, Eastern, and Roman,
came together on that occasion, it would be found
to present a marked correspondence with the
altered tone and feehng of the Imperial Court.
During the first proceedings of the Council,
the greater part of the prelates, who had previously

The Decree of Chalcedon 67
sided with the Egyptian party, betook themselves
to the company of the Eastern Bishops, and
these sat under the presidency of the delegates
from the Roman Church. With good reason,
further strife was deprecated. ' We have all
sinned,' ' We all ask forgiveness ! ' were the cries
raised in response to the proposition for deposing
all who had associated themselves with the
outrages of that wild assembly at Ephesus two
years before.
The angry cries were unheard, the wild fury had
spent itself, men cared not to remember these
things. But the marked feature of this Council
of Chalcedon was the triumph in which it resulted
for the prestige and for the doctrine of Leo and
the Roman Church. The opinions of the pontiff
had been fuUy stated in an epistle to the unhappy
Flavian, lingering to his death from the terrible
scourge of his enemies at Ephesus. That very
letter was accepted as an authoritative declara
tion of orthodox Christian doctrine. Prepared
by a committee of eighteen prelates, the point of
doctrine set forth by Leo of Rome was accepted
with enthusiasm, and with eager voices the
assembled ecclesiastics were heard to cry, ' We
all have the same faith with Leo ! ' And that
article of faith promulgated at Chalcedon was this,
' That in Christ two distinct natures were united
in one person, and that without any change,
mixture, or confusion.'

68 The Council of Chalcedon
Such was the development of theological belief
associated with the Council of Chalcedon. The
comparatively brief and quiet procedure of that
Council is, as we have seen, overshadowed by the
excited controversies, the relentless enmities, and
the blind passion which marked the Churches
for half a century pre-viously ; but if we can reahze
the character of the disputants, and the methods
they did not hesitate to pursue in what they
believed to be the service of God, the resiUt should
be a more just estimate of their efforts, in rougher
times and with less developed powers, to solve
those deep questions, which even yet await an
adequate answer from the most highly trained
inteUects and the most disciphned spirits in the
Church of Christ.

THE SECOND LATERAN COUNCIL, A.D. 1139
When we read of CouncUs assembhng in the
Church of St. John the Lateran, at Rome, and
find Roman Catholics declaring that these Councils
are to be regarded as ' (Ecumenical,' we begin to
reahze the gro-wth of Rome's power and authority
in the Christian world.
For the student of religious history the story
of that growth can never lose its enthraUing
interest. And curiously paraUel with the record
of Rome's advance to universal empire over the
Western world is that of her progress to the seat
of authority in matters pertaining to religion.
Her national hfe arose from small beginnings ;
so too did her spiritual influence.
In the early days of Christianity — notably in
the days when Arianism seemed hkely to be the
predominant faith of the Christian Church — Rome
stands in the light of a resort and refuge for the
oppressed Athanasians, who groaned under such
fierce persecution as they had themselves taught
the Arians to practise.

70 The Second Lateran Council
And further, when an ambitious Bishop of
Constantinople laid claim, in the sixth century,
to predominance over aU Christendom, it is
interesting indeed to leam how that claim was
met and disputed by the then Bishop of Rome,
Gregory the Great, who stood in defence of all
the bishoprics in Europe, as weU as his o-wn, and
protested against such arrogance in these words :
' This I declare -with confidence, that whoso
designates himself Universal Priest, or, in the
pride of his heart, consents to be so named, he
is the forerunner of Antichrist.'
But time and circumstances wrought a tre
mendous change in the attitude and pretensions
of the triumphant Church of Rome. And if we
would leam what caused her advancement in
prestige, and constituted her the arbiter of the
religious world, the reasons can soon be stated.
In the first place, Rome, relying upon the
traditionary association of the Apostle Peter with
her early history as a centre of Christianity, never
forgot, or allowed others to do so, that she was the
only Apostolic Church in Western Christendom.
As Gieseler reminds us, the Roman bishops
' Strenuously opposed the opinion that they and
the other patriarchs owed their prominence to
the importance of the cities in which they resided.'
Constantinople might boast itself as the seat of
imperial power, and Alexandria might pride itself
as a centre of learning. Rome took higher ground.

Predominance of Rome 71
She claimed an Apostohc sanction for her faith
and discipline, and that claim surely came to be
aUowed. For example, at a Council held at
Sardica, in the middle of the fourth century, a
decree was made by which aU condemned bishops
were allowed to appeal to the Bishop of Rome.
Then, again, the genius of the Eastern branch
of the Church was essentiaUy different from that
of the Western.
The Eastern Churches were stiired with keen
excitement on speculative questions, which had
but little interest for their Western fellow-
Christians. Rome was often found standing
aloof. Her adherents were united in support of
their bishops, they were strong in orthodox con
viction. And in aU these controversies Rome
gave her judgment, at the critical time, and the
scale was turned in her favour.
This was the case in regard to the Council of
NicEea, when the Arians were defeated ; while
at the Council of Constantinople, ' it was plain
enough,' says Gieseler,* ' that the great question
of the day had been decided by the firmness and
stability of the Western Church. . . . From this
time forth, there was no controversy in the East
in which each party did not seek to win the Bishop
of Rome, and through him the Western Church,
to its cause. ... At the Councils his legates
were always treated with the greatest deference,
1 Vol. i. p. 259.

72 The Second Lateran Council
and at the Council of Chalcedon they, for the first
time, presided.'
That was a proud day for the Church of Rome ;
for although that Council did decree ' the same
rights to the Bishop of Constantinople in the
Eastern Church, which the Bishop of Rome
enjoyed in the Western,' Leo of Rome protested,
and the Bishop of Constantinople was compeUed
by the Emperor Marcian ' to write to Leo in a
submissive strain.'
This was the prelate known in history as Leo
the Great. He exceUed all his predecessors in
the way of developing the power of the Bishops
of Rome. Moreover, from the reigning Emperor
of the West, Valentinian III, a.d. 445, he obtained
a decree, ' by which the Roman Bishop was made
the head of the whole Western Church.'*
The spiritual jurisdiction of Rome was ex
tended throughout the distant province of lUyria,
which drew away from the Bishop of Constanti
nople. In Gaul, too, a disputed claim to a
Bishopric was referred to the decision of Rome,
and naturaUy led to the extension of its influence
in that province also.
Another circumstance must be noted as favour
ing the development of the power of the Church
of Rome. It was not aU the Emperors of the
West who resided, as weU as ruled, in Rome.
We read of the transference of the seat of power,
1 Gieseler, Vol. i. p. 269.

The Church's Influence 73
in one instance to the city of Milan, and in an
other to Ravenna. But the Bishop was con
stant in his residence, and in rough times of
the dislocation of civil and imperial power the
Church remained at once the symbol and the
bond of disciplined hfe, and of lawful restraint.
Having regard to this fact, it is not wonderful to
find temporal power beginning to link itself with
spiritual authority. To do the Church justice, it
can be said that the obligations imposed by her
purified, sustained, and saved society ; her assem
bhes became veritable ralljdng points for the cause
of law and order. The very facts of life around
her contributed to her advancement, nor could
it weU have been otherwise. It is scarcely true
that she always grasped at power, but she could
not fail to use the opportunities made for her, if
she would remain faithful to her trust. Insensibly
then, but certainly and increasingly, the temporal
and the spiritual influences of the Church of Rome
became woven with one another.
It is only natural to find, therefore, that ' the
Roman bishops . . . began to take a different
view of their dignity as the successors of Peter ' ;
'. . . they acknowledged that their peculiar
privileges did not originally belong to them only as
successors of Peter, but had been conferred upon
them, in early times, . . . and that is a view
fuUy developed by Leo the Great.'*
^ Gieseler, Vol. i. p. 261.

74 The Second Lateran Council
It was not such a very great step from correct
ing a Bishop to rebuking an earthly King ; and
that is a thought which leads us to mark the ad
vance from the spiritual pre-eminence claimed by
Leo in the fifth century, to the temporal authority
of the Church over aU earthly rulers put forth in
the eleventh century by one of the greatest of
the Popes — ^namely, Gregory VII.
' Sprung from the lowest ranks of the people,
the grim-hearted monk never for a moment was
false to his order. He looked on lords and kings
as tyrants and oppressors : he looked on bishops
themselves as lording it over God's heritage,' and
to hold both ahke in check ' he dreamed of a
Popedom, universal in its claims — an incarnation
of the fiercest democracy. ... He had the wrath
of generations of serfdom rankling in his heart,'
and had ' a satisfaction in bringing low the haughty
looks of the proud.'* What he meditated he has
himself told us, for in his pubhshed notes we read
' There is but one name in the world, and that is
the Pope's. He only can use the ornaments of
empire. All princes ought to kiss his feet. He
alone can nominate and displace bishops, and
assemble or dissolve Councils. Nobody can judge
him. His mere election constitutes him a saint.
He has never erred, and never shaU err in time to
come. He can depose Princes, and release sub
jects from their oaths of fidehty.'
1 White : ' Eighteen Christian Centuries,' p. 238.

The Emperor at Canossa 75
The attitude and the actions of this pontiff
absolutely corresponded to these thoughts. To
his credit, be it said, he laid a stem hand upon
the abuses that brought reproach to the Church,
and to the clergy. Earnestly he strove to banish
the sin of simony, by which, advancement in the
Church had become a mere matter of money.
But his spirit reached forward to a power over
the Kings of the earth, nor was the occasion long
wanting for its assertion. The rulers of the
German Empire had always claimed and exercised
the right to have a voice in the appointment of
Bishops. That right was chaUenged by Gregory,
who haughtily demanded the renouncement of
that right by the Emperor Henry IV. When
sorely pressed by his enemies Henry promised
obedience, but denied it when he had triumphed
over them.
In anger, the Pope pronounced the sentence
of excommunication against Henry, who, tyrant
as he was, found his own people deserting him,
and was forced to yield. He crossed the Alps in
the depth of winter, and humbly and as a penitent
he sought the Pope, and presented himself before
the castle of Canossa. Rome was indeed grasp
ing temporal authority, and the well-known pro
verb of ' going to Canossa ' was a common way of
expressing the fact. Tmly the degradation was
tmheard of : the shame of it, and the good feeling
outraged by it, raised troops of friends for the dis-

76 The Second Lateran Council
graced emperor, but though the Pope soon died
in sorrow and in exile, when the fortune of war
turned against him, the lofty claim of the Papacy
once put forth, was never laid aside, and the right
of investiture of Church dignitaries, pre-viously
exercised by the Emperor, was for ever after the
unquestioned privilege of the Pope.
It is in the year 1123 that we come upon the
evidence of jealousy between two orders of eccle
siastics — the monks and abbots on the one side,
who were prohibited from the performance of
public Masses, and other religious rites, which were
entrusted wholly to the secular clergy — or in other
words, the parochial priesthood. That was de
creed by a Council held in Rome, and kno-wn in
history as the First Lateran Council.
That name is associated not only with papal,
but with pagan Rome, the Rome of the dark days
of Nero's tyranny. In the city at that time was
a splendid palace, the residence of a noble patrician
family, known as the Laterani. Nero seized the
building for his o-wn purposes, and, until the days
of Constantine the Great, it remained in possession
of the Roman Emperors. But when Constantine
embraced Christianity he gave the building to
the Bishops of Rome as a dweUing-place, and
there they resided until they took up their abode
in the Vatican. The Basihca, then, became a
Church, and has been known from that time as the
Church of St. John the Lateran. In that build-

Prominent Monks 77
ing no less than eleven Councils have been held,
known aU of them as Lateran Councils, at the
first of which the distinction was drawn between
the two orders of clergy, which proved a source
of envy and of suspicion between them. And
here, surely, we touch the influence put forth by
the Monk upon the life and thought of the whole
of Western Christendom.
There are names in religious history which are
but other words for controversy, strife, reforma
tion, and tribulation, to the great Church of
Rome. Abelard, the nature of whose philosophical
attack upon the position of the Church is seen in
his unflinching contention for the unquestioned
supremacy of reason, was a monk. Arnold of
Brescia, that fearless reformer ' appearing ere
the times were ripe,' was also a monk. Savon
arola, who sought so nobly to reform the great
Church from within, was a monk- And what
more can we say of the great and triumphant
hero of the Reformation than that Martin Luther
was ' the Monk that shook the world.' It was
from this order that there came forth the op
ponents of the luxury, the worldliness, the self-
indulgence of the bishops and the clergy. Know
ledge was slowly but surely growing. Men like
Abelard taught their feUows to think. It was to
httle purpose that prelates and priests declared that
they did but hold this world's goods in trust for
Christ. Men saw the effects of all this, and those

78 The Second Lateran Council
who sought to restore to the Church her simpUcity
of life, were not slow to point the clergy to the
glaring contrast between precept and practice.
What could there be in common between the monk,
the devotee, pledged to the renunciation of this
world's goods and privileges in the service of one
who had not where to lay his head, and eccle
siastics surrounded with every luxury the world
could give, while nobles and princes waited to
hold their golden stirrups as they mounted their
pampered steeds ?
It was to be expected that protests sharp and
strong would be uttered, and Arnold, the young
Monk of Brescia, fresh from the teaching of
Abelard, was the man who gave that protest a
voice. He sought, in a word, to give practical
apphcation to the theories of his teacher, Abelard.
The luxury of the clergy was the point of his
attack, and for his work he gathered up aU the
powers of thought and reason within his soul.
Terrible was the burden which the heroic Arnold
took up, for, as the historian truly says, ' Reason
awoke ; composed itself again to despairing
slumber on the lap of authority ; awoke again :
its slumbers became more disturbed, more irregular
tiU the anodyne of awe had lost its power.'
A defender of the bishops, and of ecclesiastical
practices as they were, spoke of Abelard as ' this
huge Goliath with his armour-bearer Arnold of
Brescia,' and looked upon them both as def5dng

Arnold of Brescia 79
the armies of the Lord to battle. The name of
Arnold was the great storm-centre of the time,
and a distinctly dangerous rebeUion carrying with
it not only men's indignant feeling, but their
common sense as weU, was about to try the
Church as she had rarely been tried in all her
previous history.
Arnold of Brescia saw and bewailed the evils
which defiled the Church. When he began his
work, which we can see now was hopeless from
the first, in view of the spiritual and worldly forces
arrayed against him, he was orthodox in faith,
and good it is to rest assured from the testimony
of his opponents themselves that he was a man of
reproachless character, as weU as of heroic tempera
ment. He must have been a worthy forerunner
of the great Savonarola. It has been said that
in him the Monk and the Republican were blended
together ; ' Sharp as a sword, and soft as oil,' we
are told, was his eloquence. ' Salvation,' he
declared, so Milman affirms,* ' was impossible to
a priest holding property, a bishop exercising tem
poral power, a monk retaining any possession
whatever.' He made his appeal, not to the authority of
the Church, which he disregarded, but to the
precepts of Christ himself.
Poverty, he declared, primitive and apostohc,
should be the lot of aU the clergy, -without dis-
1 ' Latin Christianity,' Vol. iv. p. 375.

80 The Second Lateran Council
tinction. AU that the Churches and the Monas-.
teries had become possessed of should be sur
rendered to the Sovereign ; but that sovereign
was no despotic ruler, it was a governing assembly
of the whole people ! And is not this but a vision
and nothing more even to-day ? How, there
fore, can we wonder at finding the imperial and
pontifical power aUied against him, in the stem
resolve to crush what both of them alike held to
be their common foe ?
Naturally, the voice of the Church was hfted up
against Arnold. At that very time it happened
that the Second Lateran Council was in session at
Rome. It had met, at the summons of Innocent
II, on 4 April, 1139, when no less than a thousand
bishops, with a vast company of abbots and other
ecclesiastics, were assembled. The debates of the
Council, it is true, have not been preserved ; but
its decrees survive, and these, together with the
utterances of the Pope, clearly show that the
Council was convoked to strengthen the personal
authority of the Pope, to tighten the reins of
ecclesiastical discipline, and to safeguard the doc
trine of the Church against heretical opinions,
which were surely beginning to force themselves
on the attention of her adherents. By the twenty-
third canon of this Council it was decreed that
' We expel from the Church as heretics those who,
under the semblance of rehgion, condemn the
sacrament of the body and blood of Christ, the

Arnold of Brescia 81
baptism of chUdren, the priesthood, and the holy
rite of marriage.'
Before such an august assembly Arnold was
arraigned. It is to be noted that he was con
demned, not for heresy, but for schism, and his
sentence was banishment, not death. After a
while we find him at Zurich, where the memory
of his teaching may weU have appealed to one
amongst the Reformers of Luther's time, Ulrich
Zwingli, the most hberal, the most progressive,
the. most fearless of that great company. For
years we lose sight of Arnold altogether, but
suddenly he appears in Rome, the mo-ving spirit
of an attempt at a Republic, modelled, but vainly
alas ! upon that of ancient Rome. We read of
civil strife and bloodshed, of Popes fighting for
their sovereignty, and of one slain while leading
his soldiery against the people. One pontiff there
was, Celestine by name, stirred with love of
hberty, and confidence in Arnold ; but death
was his early portion, and the fierce strife was
waked anew.
Another Pope, Eugenius, lacked heart to enter
into the confhct, and timidly quitted the city,
while for a brief period Arnold was master of
Rome, seeking to give effect to his reforms, until
in the minds of a fickle populace he lost favour
and support.
There were no pUgrimages to the shrines of the
buried saints at Rome in those days. The prestige

82 The Second Lateran Council
of the city was lowered, and after the pattern of
those who once shouted — ' Great is Diana of the
Ephesians ! ' the men, whom Arnold would have
uphfted, turned from him, and rendered his second
condemnation an easy task. But banishment
was not security sufficient for Emperor and Pope.
Through the practices of the Emperor Frederic,
and to the satisfaction of the Pope, Hadrian IV,
the only EngUshman that ever became a Pope,
Arnold was captured, and sent a prisoner to Rome.
Remorseless, swift and secret was the cmel fate
meted out to him. Speedily a day came, and lo !
he was not : but how the fearless Monk of Brescia
came to his end ' no man knoweth unto this day.'
One thing is told us, which is a testimony to the
influence of Arnold's spirit, and to the enthusiastic
love that he so widely inspired — ^his body was
burned, and his ashes cast into the Tiber, that not
one single relic of the great reformer might be the
subject of the multitude's hero-worship. It is the
condemnation of Arnold that quickens our remem
brance of the Second Lateran Council; for in
opposing the efforts of Roman Bishops after tem
poral dominion the whole world over, as Dean
Milman has weU and truly said, ' it required a
league between a powerful emperor and an able
Pope to crush Arnold of Brescia. But in the
ashes of Arnold of Brescia's funeral pile smouldered
for centuries the fire which was at length to blaze
out in irresistible violence.'

VI
THE FOURTH LATERAN COUNCIL, A.D. 1215
Of aU the eleven CouncUs held at St. John the
Lateran, the Fourth, which assembled there in
the year 1215, is by far the most noteworthy.
Several causes conspired to render it so.
A glance at the pohtical condition of Europe,
at that time, would show us a picture of turbulent
and unsettled national life, not only in Germany,
and in France, but in Britain also. Contending
despots and restless peoples, and even family
quarrels within Kings' houses, were either the
symptoms or the causes of a dislocation of this
world's affairs, that presented a sorry contrast to
the solidarity of the marveUous influence and
power of the great hierarchy of Rome.
Its voice, once uphfted, suffered not itself to
be gainsaid. The great Church pressed unwav
eringly upon its progress ever to more assured
authority in things temporal as weU as spiritual ;
and as from time to time, some master-spirit hke
Leo the Great, or Gregory VII, or Innocent III,

84 The Foiurth Lateran Council
directed the destinies of Rome, with aU the driving
power of a strong personality, we cease to wonder
at the height of authority to which Rome won
her way.
No marvel that she caUed her Councils together
in a fashion truly imperial, and held them every
one to be oecumenical, or in other words, repre
sentative of aU Christendom.
Never; surely, was a more briUiant or iUustrious
gathering of the Chieftains of the Church than
this Fourth Lateran Council. Seventy-seven Arch
bishops, four hundred and twelve Bishops, eight
hundred Abbots and Priors, together with 'am
bassadors from most of the Christian Courts,' not
only, be it observed, from the West, but from
the East also : such was the composition of the
assembly convened by Pope Innocent III.
The matters to be debated, the doctrines to
be promulgated, at the instance of Innocent
himself, were of an importance befitting the
influence and authority of the ecclesiastics sum
moned to discuss, and it may be truly said,
to decree them, as being at once necessary and
orthodox. Papal authority was never greater or more far-
reaching than during the period of some himdred-
and-forty years that intervened between the
accession of Gregory VII, in 1073, and the death
of Innocent III, in the year 1216.
We have already observed the growth of the

Decline of Episcopal Power 85
temporal power under Gregory, from whom an
Emperor begged his crown, standing for days in
sackcloth at the Pope's castle gate. But what
Gregory had begun to foster, Innocent developed,
since the weakness of rulers, and the troubles of
their subjects rendered it the easier for him to
assert his constantly increasing claims.
A marked characteristic of the rule of this reso
lute Pope is found, as the historian* teUs us, in
the fact ' that the coUective power of the episcopal
order was not so great at that time,' as it had
previously been. In two or three preceding cen
turies we find sjmods of bishops criticizing and
influencing the conduct of temporal rulers. Those
synods had ceased to be, but the authority they
had once wielded, and then laid down, passed over,
not to the monarchs, but to the Pope, and by the
pontiff that tremendous power ' was exercised
with ... a unity of design, and a consistent
perseverance, which coidd not possibly have
directed a long series of local and dependent
councils.' In brief, the sovereign power of the
Pope increased in proportion as the authority of
the Bishops grew weaker.
The Bishops in fact became the agents, the ser
vants, of the supreme pontiff. Marked evidence
of the increase of pontifical authority within the
Church is presented to us when we find this same
Pope, not content with exacting from the priest-
* Waddington, p. 347.

86 The Fourth Lateran Council
hood large occasional contributions, but imposing,
and attempting to perpetuate, a regular tax on
ecclesiastical property. He ceased iErom such a
demand, we are told ; but Innocent's position
must have been strong indeed to have warranted
him in entertaining the project at aU.
But of the obedience from his Bishops, on which
the Pope might rely, no stronger proof can be
adduced than the employment for the purposes
of the Church, of that tremendous instrument
known as the Papal Interdict.
In speaking of it, of the terrors that accompanied
it, and the sonows which its promulgation entailed
on innocent and guilty alike, let us have due regard
to the temper of the times, and to the grave fact
that persecution, by the infhction of civil punish
ments and disabihties for differences of rehgious
belief was not peculiar to the Roman Catholic
Church. Centuries after the time now before our
consideration the Protestants of Reformation days
conscientiously relegated to the correction of the
Civil Magistrate, the men who differed from them
selves : and strange it is to find amongst aU the
leaders of thought in the period of the Reforma
tion only one, Faustus Socinus, who held the
infliction of such penalties to be utterly wrong
and unjustifiable.
We are looking upon the scenes of history, and
we must leave the facts we find there to teach
their own solemn and significant lessons.

The Papal Interdict 87
Under the exercise of the power put forth in
the more frequent and regularised promulgation
of an Interdict, aU administration of the Sacra
ments, the celebration of pubhc worship, and the
burial of the dead were sternly forbidden. In
such an age as that of the twelfth century the
issue of such an edict reduced indi-viduals and
whole States to the most abject submission. ' In
the Middle Ages,' we are told,* ' it was the most
terrible blow which could be inflicted on the people
or the prince.'
So fearful was the resort to such a power held
to be, that we find St. Augustine, at the end of the
fifth century, disapproving of such a practice, as
involving the indiscriminate punishment of the
evil doers and of the guiltless alike. In the ninth
century, in Western Christendom, we leam of the
Bishop of Laon being censured by the Bishop of
Rheims for resorting to such proceedings. But at
last, in the eleventh century, the Interdict obtained
recognition as a rightful and necessary means of
disciphne at the disposal of the Roman hierarchy.
No Pope was more resolute in its emplojmient than
Innocent III. In France he made its terrors felt
over the domestic disagreements of King Philip
and his Queen, and the disobedience to papal
authority of that wanton tyrant John brought
down the selfsame sorrows upon our own land,
when it trembled at the tenible Interdict, until
1 Brand and Cox, Vol. ii. p. 231.

88 The Fourth Lateran Council
John repented, and in utter humihation begged
back his English cro-wn from the Roman pontiff.
In ancient days there is to be found but one
among the Kings of Europe who quailed not
before the Interdict of the Pope, and that was
WiUiam the Lion, of Scotland. The Archbishopric
of St. Andrews was the matter of dispute, on
which Pope Alexander III put forth this weapon
of his power. The Scottish king stood resolute,
Pope Alexander died, and his successor, Clement,
recaUed the excommunication. The last echo of
this thunder died away in the early years of
the last century, when the final exercise of this
terrible power was the issue of an Interdict by
Pius VII in 1809 against Napoleon Bonaparte ;
but we marvel not that the decree was inefficient,
whilst the great soldier was left to fight his battles
out, and die at last in exile on that lonely island
amid the South Atlantic.
Innocent III was the Pope at whose behest the
Fourth Lateran Council met, to purge the Church
from newly wakening heresy, and to erect a
standard of doctrine that should be lastingly
accepted, and which, let us not forget, is accepted
by multitudes, not only of uninstriicted peasants,
but of scholars and thinkers at the present day.
In that assembly no spirit of compromise was
traceable. The great Church at the caU of him
who, to her, was the Vicegerent of Christ, was
setting herself further to define her doctrine, and

Against Heretics and Jews 89
to decree such rehgious observances as might
aUay aU questioning doubt, and confirm her
faithful ones.
One of the earhest decrees of this great Council,
reveahng its spirit and purpose in the clearest
hght, was a declaration that no earthly rulers
were to tolerate the residence or even the presence
of any heretics whatsoever in their dominions.
Should any temporal ruler refuse either to perse
cute or to expel these objects of ecclesiastical
suspicion, then that ruler should himself underlie
the terrors of excommunication. Did even these
fail to deter him from sheltering a heretic, then
if he failed to make submission within a year, ' the
Pope should pronoimce his vassals absolved from
their oath of fidelity, and expose his dominions to
the conquest of the Catholics.'*
How far the spiritual empire of the pontiff
transcended the temporal sway of the earthly
ruler may be gathered from the fact ' that this
decree, which placed secular authorities directly
at the disposal of the spiritual . . . was enacted
in the presence, and with the consent, of the
ambassadors of several sovereigns.'
When such orders went forth, we wonder not
at the renewed stringency of laws directed against
the Jews. Not a single public appointment of
trust was a Jew to be aUowed to hold. He might
not walk among his fellow-men, clad in Christian
1 See Waddington, p. 349.

90 The Fourth Lateran Council
garb, whilst in Holy Week he was, on no excuse,
to be permitted to appear in pubhc at aU.
Indicative of the unquestioned pre-eminence and
influence of Pope Innocent are certain facts con
ceming this Council, of which due notice must
be taken.
In the first place, no less than seventy Canons
or decrees were dictated to the assembly by
Innocent himself, and his declarations were
accepted -with the most unquestioning acquies
cence. We hear nothing from any source of any
discussions or frank expressions of indi-vidual
opinion. When Gregory VII declared that the
Pope always was and ever would be infallible, his
words seem really an anticipation of the feehng of
the members of this assembly. The CouncU met
in November, 1215, and within a month from the
beginning of its dehberations it had registered
every one of Pope Innocent's decisions ; it had
discharged its office, and its members separated.
Amid the transactions of this CouncU there are
two decrees, one conceming Church disciphne,
and the other conceming Church doctrine, which
do, and surely ever wiU, possess a very deep and
solemn interest for Christendom.
To this Fourth Lateran CouncU, then, the Church
of Rome owes the estabhshment of the practice
of Auricular Confession ; and that was placed at
the Pope's behest 'among the duties prescribed
by the divine laws.' Such confession 'implied

The Confessional 91
not only a general acknowledgment but also a
particular enumeration of the sins' of such as
sought comfort through their tmsted confessor.
It is to be noted, too, that penitents were
enjoined to make, at least once a year, a private
confession of their sins to their o-wn priest, and,
at the same time, were prohibited from confessing
to any other priest, without the special permission
of their own.
It must be home in mind that our part at present
is simply that of observers of the facts of religious
history. He who would lay bare those facts is
not called upon to make history wait upon argu
ment. Let it suffice to point to the Church's
mandate for a practice fraught with the deepest
feelings, and the most momentous issues.
Who can calculate the subtle, unseen, yet most
certain power -with which the faithful priests of
the Church of Rome are thus invested ?
The knowledge which must by this penitential
disciphne pass into the priest's keeping, which
provides for him, whether he wiU or no, an
acquaintance with the very sanctities of home
hfe, and which by the power of religion con
stitutes each individual Father Confessor the
final arbiter of many and many a life, necessarily
endues the priesthood of the Roman Catholic
Church with an overwhelming responsibihty.
And aU this is recognized, accepted, beheved in,
by good and saintly souls as near to God as any

92 The Fourth Lateran Council
of those who shrink from confession to any but
the pitying Father above us ! But that is the
awful trust which the Roman Cathohc Priest holds
in his hand, and which was surely dehvered to
him by this Fourth Lateran Council some seven
centuries ago.
At that Council it wiU be seen that Rome cast
upon her children the obligation to complete
spiritual obedience ; and now it remains to caU
to mind the vast demand which she laid upon
their faith.
For a lengthened period, so Mosheim thinks,
before the age now under consideration, a certain
amount or, as he holds, a large amount of ' hberty
had been left to believers to interpret the doctrine
of the presence of Christ in the Eucharist.'
Berengar, of Tours, not long previous to the
Council, had expressed his sense of the spiritual
presence of the Body and Blood of Christ therein ;
but if any lingering doubt upon the matter re
mained, it was removed by the decree which, at
the instance of the Pope, was issued by the Fourth
Lateran Council.
Innocent wished to obviate the possibiUty of
any heretical evasions. He knew the binding
power of an apt word. That word employed by
him — the word ' Transubstantiation ' — ^has set
forth from that day to our o-wn the definitely
expressed orthodox faith of every sincere Roman
Catholic behever.

Transubstantiation 93
By the opponents of the Church of Rome it is,
we know, maintained that the doctrine is not
found in Scripture, or in the writings of the
Fathers, or in the canons of the early Church.
But the condemnation of other doctrines on the
groimd of their non-scriptural justification would
as certainly give pain to a multitude of feUow-
Christians, other than those who adhere to the
Church of Rome. Of course, the idea of the Real
Presence in the Sacrament found expression from
individual thinkers long before the days of Pope
Innocent ; his part was that of consolidating the
doctrine by the term. And, according to the
doctrine he presented for the acceptance of the
Council, ' the elements,' to quote Dean Milman,*
' ceased entirely to be what they stiU seemed to
be to the outward senses. The substance of the
bread and wine was actually annihilated. Nothing
existed but the body and blood of the Redeemer —
the body and blood of the Redeemer resuscitated in
the flesh — yet to which belonged the ubiquity and
the eternity of the divine nature.' To quote an
other authority,^ ' the doctrine held by the Church
of Rome ' is ' that in the Eucharist the bread and
-wine are annihilated and replaced by the body
and blood of Christ. In one of its hturgical offices '
the Church of Rome says, ' This is not bread, but
God and Man, my Sa-viour.' And this great change
takes place upon the utterance of those solemn
1 Vol. iii. p. 387. 2 Brand and Cox, Vol. iii. p. 837.

94 The Fourth Lateran Council
words, ' This is my body.' It is, astounding
though the conception be, the daUy miracle of
that great Church, which lies within the power
she claims to delegate to the humblest priest that
ministers at her altar.
Lutheran and Anghcan may dispute Rome's
proud assertion of the spiritual inheritance en-
trasted to her sole keeping, but the logical alter
native to her stupendous doctrine of the Real
Presence in the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper
is that presented by the simple-hearted and
intrepid Swiss reformer, Ulrich Zwingh, who held
that solemn service to be only an act of devout
and of sacred remembrance.
It was by the uncompromising assertion of this
great doctrine of Transubstantiation, as weU as
by the establishment of Auricular Confession, that
the Fourth Lateran CouncU secured for itself so
prominent a position in the history of Christianity,

VII
THE COUNCIL OF TOULOUSE, A.D. 1228
The decisions of the Fourth Lateran Council
were emphasised by another Council convened
after a brief interval by Pope Honorius III, which
met in the city of Toulouse in the year 1228.
The subject to which the ecclesiastics addressed
themselves was essentiaUy the same at both these
assemblies. The need of protecting the faith of
the Catholic world from the influences of opinions,
which the Church held to be heretical, was felt
to be an increasing one. The intensity of the
struggle between Church authority and private
judgment is to be measured by the gro-wing
severity of the conditions by which heresy every
where began to find itself beset.
The story of that conflict is one which should be
scanned -with self-restraint, and told nowadays
' more in sonow than in anger.'
To judge the men of those dark times by the
standards of our present-day life would savour
as much of injustice as of ignorance. Moreover,

96 The Council of Toulouse
when we deprecate, as it is our solemn duty ever
to do, the emplo5nnent of the civil power for the
punishment and suppression of a man's religious
opinions, our condemnation of such a practice
should be at least impartial. If penance is to be
done for this, it must be rendered not by the
Roman Catholic alone ; the Protestant must
stand side by side with him, and take his honest
share in the judgment that must be cast against
them. both.
We speak of the Middle Ages as the Dark Ages,
and with good reason ; for their record is that of
undeveloped social hfe, and of most imperfect
knowledge. It was an age of tmths half -seen, and
therefore terribly misunderstood ; what wonder,
then, that innocent blood was shed, and that un
deserved tears feU so thickly ? If the careful
student leams any one fact above another from
the history of those fierce times, it is that the
Church after all did not comprise the worst of the
world. Everywhere men held that their salva
tion depended upon the doctrines they believed ;
that was a conviction common to the Reformer
and the Catholic ; and their fury against their
adversaries was only the logical expression of
their intense and passionate devotion to that
conviction. Bhndly but sincerely the persecutors every
where seized on the Master's half-understood
words — ' What shall a man give in exchange for

The Inquisition 97
his soul ? ' — and armed with such a potent mis
conception, they proceeded without hesitation,
every one of them, hke Dominic in one church, or
like Calvin in another, to fearful deeds wherein
they were equaUy possessed with the thought that
they did God service.
The Council of Toulouse is to be remembered
in history from the fact that by it was effected
the permanent establishment of the Inquisition in
that city. The very name of that institution is
fraught with sorrow for the whole world, but we
are weU reminded that ' its germs he in the duty
of searching out and correcting error entrusted
to the deacons in the early churches.' Rome, it
is true, developed the system, but she cannot be
credited with the origination of it. That must be
assigned to a far earher date, for Constantine and
his successors first had recourse to it, when it was
enacted that heretics in religion should be dealt
with by the secular authority. Yet, as far down
as the tenth century, action of this extreme kind
was partial, and resort to it depended on the
temper and spirit of the Bishops.
But, at the period with which we are now con
cerned, namely, the early part of the thirteenth
century, heresy was making itself heard. Its
utterances were bolder, and by faithfiU Cathohcs
recourse was had to sterner measures for its
curtailment, and indeed for its extirpation ; the
mere anathematising of heretics by the recently

98 The Council of Toulouse
held Fourth Lateran Council being found to be
insufficient. It is interesting to note that at the
very beginning of the previous century we find
pubhc profession made of opinions almost identical
with those promulgated by the leaders of the
Reformation, and -widely held by Protestants ;
and one cannot refrain from inquiry conceming
the first and necessarily obscure traces of such
professions in the life of the Church.
We have already seen how the corruption of
the Church, and the inegularities of its ministers,
enhsted the anxious attention and caUed forth
the rebuke of some of the worthiest of the Catholic
clergy ; and therefore it is no matter of wonder to
find such charges figuring very prominently in
the attacks of aU fearless opponents of the Church.
Notably was this the case -with one Pierre de
Bruys, who, about the year mo, became known
as a heretical preacher in the south of France, in
the districts of Provence and Languedoc.
In addition to his attacks on Church discipline,
his foUowers were credited with the rejection of
Infant Baptism, the destruction of aU Cmcifixes,
the denial of the Real Presence in the Eucharist,
and with the refusal to regard the good works of
the hvijig as in any way efficacious for the salva
tion of the dead. But it was what Catholics
regarded as his desecration of the cmcifix that
kindled their fiercest antagonism against him ;
and it resulted that in a district in Languedoc,

Pioneers of Heresy 99
some twenty years after he had begun to preach,
the Cathohcs passionately resented such an
instance of what, in their eyes, could be nothing
but sacrilege ; they rose against him, and Pierre
de Bruys was there and then consigned to the
flames. And yet another fearless heretic, Henry by name,
came forth from the north of Italy to take up the
unfinished work of Pierre de Bruys. His disciples
were known as Henricians, and the success of
their appeals through aU the south of France
from Lausanne to Bordeaux is evidenced from
the interference of the ruling Pope, Eugenius III,
who sent a special legate, and ordered St. Bernard
to support him in the district where heresy
had become prominent. St. Bernard has left on
record his testimony to the effect that ' The
Churches are without people, the people -without
priests, 'the priests without honour, and Chris
tians without Christ.' The great influence of St.
Bernard recaUed the people of the locality to their
aUegiance to Rome. Bernard pursued Henry,
who had fled for refuge to Toulouse. There the
heretic was seized, carried to Rheims a prisoner,
and condemned by the Pope ; and soon after, in
the year 1148, we hear of him as dpng, in his
dungeon of privation and of fatal sickness.
But notwithstanding failures and terrors such
as these, heretical opinion had spread so widely
that the question came to be asked, not where

100 The Council of Toulouse
heresy was, but where it was not ? Thought was
stirring, its power was quickening, and the issue
was that, to the regret of the great Church that
aimed ever at universal empire, there appeared
the names not merely of individuals, but of httle
companies of heretics, rising into prominence and
really gaining a footing not in southern France
only, but in North Italy, in Germany, and in
Flanders also. Of aU these it is to be remarked
that the first objects of their attack on the Church
were the temporal dignities, and the material
wealth and luxury of her clergy ; but we find every
one of these smaU sects denying the efficacy of
Infant Baptism. They denied also the doctrines
of Purgatory and of the Intercession of Saints ;
and, most significant of all, they solemnly de
clared that they would accept those truths only
which they held to be positively declared by
Christ, or by his Apostles.
To aU Protestants to-day it must surely be a
matter of deep and very tender interest to caU to
mind the name assumed by one of these httle
companies of faithful men. They called them
selves the ' Cathari,' and, translated into our
tongue, that means no more nor less than
• Puritans.' The spirit and the aim of their
protest may be inferred from such a designation ;
for as Waddington* says, ' The faintest ghmmer-
ings of reason were sufl&cient to light the mind to
'p- 353-

Peter Waldus, of Lyons 101
the detection of papal dehnquency, and of the
abenations of the Church and its ministers. It
required not a star in the East to indicate, even
in those dark times, how distinct were the principles
of the Church from the precepts of the gospel, or
to contrast the deformities of the clergy with
the purity of their heavenly Master.'
It is by a survey of this gathering power of
heresy that we can adequately reahze the anxiety
it occasioned to the adherents of the Catholic
Church, and in this further survey we come upon
the name of a man weU remembered for his work
and doctrine. He was a wealthy merchant of
the city of Lyons, named Peter Waldus, or Wal-
densis. Moved by a spirit of devotion, he dis
tributed his wealth to the poor, and causing the
four Gospels to be translated from Latin into
French, he disseminated them among the people,
gained great influence, and inaugurated an associa
tion for the diffusion of scriptural truth. In the
course of his missionary work we find him crossing
into the vaUeys of Piedmont ; and there he meets
with a simple people called the Vaudois, whose
Latin designation bore a curious likeness to his
own name. They were known as the Waldenses —
' the men of the vaUeys ' — but they must have
been living there some three centuries before Peter,
the merchant of Lyons, came among them. He
found the faith and the hfe of these people to be
in marked accord with his own, and for an estimate

102 The Council of Toulouse
of these things we turn to the account given of
them by a monk, Saccho by name, who had once
been one of them, but subsequently turned to be
their persecutor. From this source we leam that
' there is no sect so dangerous,' and that because
' it is the most ancient : some say as ancient as
the Apostles themselves.' We leam from him too
that ' there is no country where this sect has not
gained some footing.' In addition to this, their
critic objects to them on the ground that ' they
hve justly before men, and beheve nothing
respecting God which is not good ' ; ' only,' he
says, ' they blaspheme against the Roman Church
and clergy, and thus gain many foUowers.'* In
many points, it may be safely asserted, their
doctrines were those of the Reformers, if indeed
in their estimate of the attributes of the Creator
they did not rise to a higher spiritual appreciation
of God than did Luther and his co-religionists. It
does not surprise us to find Peter of Lyons in
antagonism -with the Pope, by whose influence,
it is sufficient to say, he was expelled from his
native city, driven into Dauphind, and chased
thence into Picardy. ExpeUed from there, he
passed into Germany, and fmaUy, finding a refuge
in Bohemia, the poor wom-out fugitive, in the year
1180, passed away in peace among the ancestors
of John Huss and Jerome of Prague.
One seat of heresy we have found in the
1 Waddington, p. 359.

The Albigenses 103
vaUeys of Piedmont ; but it appeared, and with
a more threatening aspect, in the cities of Lan
guedoc. The people were known as the Albigeois,
or Albigenses, from their association with the
southern French city of Albi ; and they were the
more powerful from the protection extended to
them by Ra3miond the Count of Toulouse. We
may weU regard the faith of these Albigenses as
in advance of their day. In the services of religion
they rejected aU ceremonies and sacraments.
They valued only rehgion in the heart. The
papal estimate of them may be seen from the decree
of Pope Alexander III, ' Let no man afford them
refuge on his estates ; neither let there be any
communication with them in buying and seUing ;
so that, being deprived of the solace of human
conversation, they may be compelled to return
from error to wisdom.' This condemnation was
issued in the year 1163, when, in accordance with
the spirit of such a decree, the Albigenses were
pursued with anathemas, and denied the rites of
Christian burial. But the correction of heresy
was now to be exercised by the firmer hand of
Pope Innocent III, and the fuU weight of that
hand the Albigenses and their friend Count Ray
mond were soon to feel.
We find Innocent roundly upbraiding the
Bishops in those pro-vinces for a deplorable lack
of zeal ; but before commencing the conflict,
which he felt to be approaching, the Pope sent into

104 The Council of Toulouse
the district two legates, to inquire, to ad-vise, and
to warn the people of the consequences of their
alienation from the Church.
We have to remember that these southern
pro-vinces of France formed the home of the
Troubadours. Their quick and witty country
men cared seemingly as much for the joys of
poetry and of music as for the dignified ritual of
the Church. It is a fact that the name of a priest
had, come to be a byword amongst them. Their
spirits were too Ughtsome for all the papal warn
ings. Soon however a graver menace found
expression in the person and the preaching of the
resolute and gloomy monk Dominic, who gave
himself to the service of the Pope and the Church.
A numerous array of ecclesiastics supported
Dominic's appeal, but for a brief whUe in vain ;
the jest went round, and aU the laughter was at
the expense of these hegemen of papal authority.
To these spiritual missionaries the name of
' Inquisitors ' was given ; they were enjoined to
quicken the ci-vil power, and rest content with
nothing less than capital punishment upon these
heretics wherever that might be possible. But
-the fact remains, that in whatever tone the
emissaries of the Pope might speak, their message
failed, and the men of Provence and Languedoc
repented not of their heresy.
To the wrathful and indignant surprise of the
men of Toulouse, Innocent invoked the arms of

Crusade against Christians 105
the King of France ; for henceforth nothing but
fire and sword were to be the arguments he would
employ. By the quick temper of the people he
had begun to menace, fuel was but added to the
fire. One of the Papal Legates, or we may say
' Inquisitors,' feU a victim to assassination. On
the instant the Pope laid the blame on Count
Rajmiond, of Toulouse, on whom feU the sentence
of excommunication, and the Pope declared a
crusade against the Albigenses. For the first
time in history, then, that word is applied to the
fratricidal strife of Christian against Christian.
As in the struggle with the Saracen, so now
papal Indulgences and Dispensations were pro
claimed for all who should take part therein.
Monks and ecclesiastics might direct the conflict,
but the military agent in it was Simon de Montfort,
a man of whom the historian Hallam bitterly
says that his ' intrepidity, hypocrisy, and am
bition marked him for the hero of a holy war.'
Against the trained warriors that foUowed De
Montfort, the resisting power of Troubadour-land
was as the velvet glove to the steel gauntlet.
The Count of Toulouse, alarmed for his people,
offered submission under even humiliating con
ditions ; but the dogs of war once let slip could not
be recalled, for there was booty to be won by the
troops, and honour for their leader. De Montfort
was dazzled -with the iUusion of sitting enthroned
as the new Count of Toulouse. And so the strife

106 The Council of Toulouse
went on, sorrowfuUy for the Albigenses it must be
admitted, but not so well either as the soldiers
of the Papacy could have desired. De Montfort
found not a throne, but a grave at Toulouse ; and
the young Count Rajnnond succeeded his father,
who had died worn out -with trouble and dis
appointment. Succeeding Popes in due course fiUed Innocent's
place, but the conflict was undecided stUl. After
an unreal truce, a fresh crusade against the
devoted city of Toulouse was proclaimed ; the
sword of Louis of France was drawn on behalf
of the Church, and when, by what some might caU
a stratagem, the city unexpectedly passed into
the possession of these Crusaders, a Council of
the Church was summoned ; and there, in the year
1228, that Council of Toulouse secured a name in
history by setting up the Inquisition.
The defence of the faith meant simply the ex
tirpation of heresy, and terrible and far-reaching
were the Council's decrees. ' Those decrees,' the
historian tells us,* ' obliged laymen, even of the
highest rank, to close their houses, ceUars, forests,
against the heretical fugitives, and to take aU
means to detect and bring them to trial : heretics
voluntarily converted were compelled to wear cer
tain crosses on their garments ; those who should
retum to the Church under the influence of fear
were stiU to suffer imprisonment at the discretion
1 Waddington, p. 359.

Work of the Inquisition 107
of the bishop ; aU children at the age of twelve
or fourteen were compeUed by oath not only to
abjure every heresy, but to expose and denounce
any which they should detect in others ; and this
code of bigotry was propeirly completed by a
strict prohibition to all laymen to possess any
copies of the Scriptures.' Truly might it be said
that at the consummation of this terrific persecu
tion ' the remnant of the Albigenses was con
signed without hope or mercy to the eager hands
of the Inquisitors ' ; true too to the letter is the
desponding cry of the sorrowful poet : ' O noble
city of Toulouse ! thy very bones are broken ! '
Over the sufferings entailed on body and soul
by this most dreaded agency, let us not dweU.
Remembering that the Inquisition determined its
own mode of procedure, swift, sure, secret, and
awful as it was, let these solemn words of Dean
Milman* content us : — ' Nothing,' he declares,
' that the sternest or most passionate historian
has revealed, nothing that the most impressive
romance-writer could have imagined, can surpass
the cold systematic treachery and cruelty of these
so-caUed judicial formularies.' The charge against
the victim, and the informers who preferred it,
were for ever unknown to the poor accused soul.
In the abject terror that enveloped the Holy
Office and its FamUiars, as the hooded monks
that fulfiUed its mandates were called, ' a man's
1 'Latin Christianity,' Vol. vi. p. 312.

108 The Council of Toulouse
foes ' might verily be ' those of his own household '
Indeed, information, true or false, against another
was resorted to as a means of safety for a man's
self ! A son might arise against his father, and
very literaUy a brother would be found delivering
a brother to death. Never was the work of the
informer in more frequent or more ghastly vogue,
and deeds were done, which in the very worst days
of the Caesars would have made even a pagan
tyrant blush for shame.
And yet, as the Apostle Paul so touchingly said
in his own prison, ' the word of God is not bound.'
The times have changed, the spirit of man has
broadened, and tolerance and hberty have faith
fuUy followed in the steps of advancing knowledge ;
while our very belief in man's spiritual and moral
progress forbids the fear that these days and deeds
of darkness ever can return again.
As our great poet says, ' We do pray for mercy,
and that same prayer doth teach us aU to render
the deeds of mercy ! ' Not a church nor a sect is
there that dares to set itself above that thought.
Catholic and Protestant are wiser than they were ;
both know alike that terrors die, and passion
bums itself away, but love abides, and grows too,
as it breathes the freer air of modern days. Old
times, old prejudices, and old oppressions have
for ever passed away.

VIII
THE COUNCIL OF CONSTANCE, A.D. 1414
Even a brief survey of the events which marked
the century preceding the assembly of the Council
of Constance, in the year 1414, will suffice to show
that the greatest days of the Papacy had passed
away. Its supreme influence in things spiritual
and temporal also, not only claimed but exercised,
for nearly a century and a half, from the days of
Gregory VII to the death of Innocent III, began
to weaken just in proportion as the Church
troubled herself with the rivalries and the con
tentions of ' the kingdoms of this world.'
Great pontiffs, such as those just named, won
honour for Rome by the very greatness of their
proud pretensions. These claims, it is true,
became less pronouncedly spiritual as the Roman
hierarchy became more suffused with the spirit
of ecclesiasticism ; but even this involved that
pride of place and pomp of ritual, which for a
time encircled its representatives viith honour and
with awe. But the days were hastening on when

110 The Council of Constance
the spiritual chief was too much hidden beneath
the characteristics of the earthly prince. The
con-viction began to strengthen that, after aU,
Popes were but men, and that in their outreaching
after worldly power they too must be content to
part with immunity from the sorrows of unsatisfied
ambition, and from the shocks and perils attendant
upon aU who take their cause to the arbitrament
of strife. In short, the faithful historian and the
worthiest among the Cathohcs themselves would
unite in deploring and in deprecating the manifest
decadence which was now beginning to mark the
Papacy, the greatest and most widely honoured
institution which this world, perhaps, may ever
know. It was no foreign foe that reduced its power to
a lower plane ; for, under the conditions of the
time, it may be said that only Rome herself could
have brought this change about.
In the earliest years of the fourteenth century
we find King PhUip of France successfuUy resenting
and limiting the pretensions of the ruhng Pope,
Clement V ; for, as Professor Bass Mulhnger*
says, we find that monarch ' eventuaUy reducing
the Roman See itself to be a mere instmment of
his -will, and a submissive agent in the furtherance
of his pohcy.' Such was the result which chal
lenged and nullified the declaration of one of the
Popes (Boniface VIII) in the year 1302, ' that the
1 Ency. Brit., Vol xix. p. 501.

French Predominance 111
temporal sword was borne only at the will, and by
the permission of the pontiff.'
We need no further -witness to prove the dechne
of the mediaeval papacy.
A new chapter in ecclesiastical history opens
with the accession of the next Pope, Clement V, in
the year 1305.
In addition to the uncompromising attitude
towards the papal power assumed by the French
king, account must also be taken of the prepon
derating influence of the French cardinals, who
formed the majority in the Council entrusted with
the election of the pontiff. It is not surprising
therefore that a man of French extraction, bom
in Aquitaine, and at that time Archbishop of
Bordeaux, was raised to the throne of St. Peter.
The point to be especiaUy borne in mind is the
overwhelming power of France. As an induce
ment to the new Pope to place confidence in the
support of that power, he can have found but
httle peace in Rome itself. That city was con-
-vulsed -with the sanguinary strife of rival factions,
due to the jealousies of the noble houses of the
Orsini, on the one side, and the Colonna on the
other. The resolution now taken by the Pope may
have been due to a natural desire to transfer the
seat of his spiritual power to a more peaceful and
a safer scene, or it might have been due to the
strong pressure put upon him by the King of

112 The Council of Constance
France ; but the fact remains that Pope Clement
quitted Rome with aU his Court, and took up his
residence in the city of Avignon, in the south of
France, in the year 1309. There for a period of
almost seventy years, described by some writers
ironicaUy as ' the Babylonish captivity,' seven
Popes, and every one of them a Frenchman, suc
cessively held sway.
It is easy to see how, by this migration of
the pontiff and the princes of the Church, the
prestige and the influence of the city of Rome
were diminished.
Jealousy, it is needless to say, wrought sleepless
antagonism between French and Itahan interests.
The predominance of France, so long asserting
itself, raised up opponents to her in other nations,
until at last Italy succeeded in electing an Italian,
in the person of Pope Urban VI, who made Rome
the seat of his power in the year 1378, when it was
hoped that the authority of St. Peter's Chair
would be permanently exercised from the Vatican.
Rome rejoiced too, for other than spiritual reasons.
The drawbacks inflicted on the material prosperity
of the city are fuUy realisable in view of the
pilgrimages, embassies, and appeals which had
been wont to find their way to Rome, but which
had for so lengthened a period been diverted to
Avignon. Something more than national exulta
tion must have fiUed the excited cry, raised loudly
while the sacred College was sitting, and the elec-

Rival Popes 113
tion was yet uncertain, ' We will have a Roman
for Pope, or at least, at the very least, an Itahan ! '
Such a qualification was found in the person of
Pope Urban VI, and it was fondly hoped that the
sorrows of the faithful were ended. But the
self-assertion and arrogance of the new pontiff
proved a trouble to himself, and a rock of offence
to the very cardinals who had elected him. As an
escape from their action they raised the plea that
they had given their support under intimidation.
They ignored Urban VI, and they proceeded to
elect another of their number, Robert of Geneva,
known in history as Pope Clement VII. No
graver dislocation in the history of the Western
Church was ever experienced than that occasioned
by the great schism, consequent upon the election
of two rival pontiffs. The disadvantages thereby
accruing to the Church of Rome were incalculable.
Where, it came to be asked, was the spirit of the
Lord to be found, when these two opposing leaders
of the Church were not only hurling anathemas
at each other, but actually drifting into war ?
No wonder that men's reason was busy, and that
their indignation was great ; for in the grouping
of the powers of Europe around these centres of
spiritual authority, it must be admitted that a
feeling of jealousy against the predominance of
France was an undoubted factor. Italy, Germany,
Bohemia, England, Flanders, Hungary, and
Poland stood fast ' in obedience ' to Urban, the'
H

114 The Council of Constance
Roman Pope, whereas Scotland, Lorraine, and
finaUy the Spanish kingdoms threw in their lot
with France, in aUegiance to Clement VII, the seat
of whose authority was established, as in former
days, at A-vignon.
And thus the open scandal of antagonism within
the great infaUible church continued, untU the
shame and the sorrow of it resulted in an attempt
to induce both these rivals to resign their power,
and so end the contention which had saddened
Christendom for some eight and thirty years.
Suffice it is to say that these overtures were
rejected, or evaded by the reigning rival Popes.
And then the Cardinals attached to both parties
came to the decision to summon a general Council
at Pisa. Amidst the divisions of Churchmen that
Council was anticipated as expressive of the unity
of the Church, whUst within that Church a power
was held to exist transcending that of an indi
vidual Pope. Necessarily men began to consider
the question of that same papal authority. The
cardinals assumed that no Pope did in fact then
exist : and ' that, under such circumstances, if
the necessities of the Church demanded it, the
cardinals had fuU power to caU a CouncU.'* The
two schismatics were deposed and cut off from
the Church ; and a supreme pontiff, Alexander V,
was elected. The leaders of the Church had re
course, on this occasion, to the representatives of
1 Waddington, p. 529.

Attempts at Reimion 116
learning and theology in the Universities of Paris,
and of Oxford, and they boldly acted in accordance
with the decision of those bodies, that it was right
and legal to caU a general Council, even in direct
opposition to the expressed will of the Pope, and
that when such a Council was assembled the voice
of that Council reaUy transcended the power of the
individual Pope. The infiuence of the Mediaeval
Papacy must have greatly waned to present so
marked a contrast to the position it had held
some two centuries and a half previously.
The work of reunion, then, was commenced by
this Council of Pisa, but, as is weU known, it was
not perfectly completed tiU some forty years after,
when Nicolas V secured the united allegiance of
Christendom. The Council of Pisa adjourned its proceedings
for a space of three years, when they were to be
resumed at a Council summoned, for convenience,
at a place so central as the city of Constance ;
and it met in the year 1414. Its members ad
dressed themselves avowedly to two objects :
firstly, the extinction of the papal schism, and
secondly, the reform of the Church.
For the last, and greatly needed, purpose the
a.ppeals of some of the worthiest of the Church's
representatives were strong indeed. It is with the
name of the Pope then reigning, John XXIII,
that the grave abuse of seUing ' Indulgences '
is said to have first arisen. No one had more

116 The Council of Constance
loudly condemned the condition to which the life
of the Church had lapsed than the cardinal of
Cambrai. Another loyal Churchman, Nicholas of
Clemangi, addressed this very Council of Constance
to the effect that the schism and desolation of the
Church could only be ascribed to the manifest
imgodhness of its pastors. In Germany, again,.
Henry of Langenstein exposed the unworthiness
of. priests and monks, holding the cathedrals to be
no better than dens of robbers, and the monasteries
than taverns. From Italy, and from Spain as weU,
came earnest protests against the then existing
state of things ; and, in short, the one point of
attack was the carelessness, the self-indulgence,
the unquestionable degeneracy of the clergy.
It is to be noted that by this Council a CoUege.
of Reform was estabhshed, but the inaction of the
successor to John XXIII, whom this Council had
actually deposed, rendered the scheme of none
effect, while the assembled Church dignitaries.
found it an easier and a more congenial task to,
crush out heresy, even by resort to fire and sword,
than to amend their faults and quicken their own
efforts in the true service of righteousness and.
religion. To these good ends no voice was more
faithfuUy uphfted than that of the English Bishop,
HaUam, of Sahsbury ; and dying, as he did,
during the sitting of the Council, his death entailed
the severest loss on the party of reform.
To this same desirable end an influence had been

Huss in Bohemia 117
going forth from our o-wn country for something
like a century, and that influence arose from the
attitude and teaching of John Wyclif. EspeciaUy
was his name known and honoured in Bohemia ;
for the Queen of Richard the Second, Isabella,
was a Bohemian princess, and into her old home,
on her widowhood, she brought the works of John
Wychf. The first rise therefore of heresy in
Bohemia must be referred to the incentive given
by the writings of our great countr57man.
Some fifteen years before the meeting of the
Council of Constance we find a learned doctor,
John Huss, appointed as Dean of the Philosophical
Faculty in the University of Prague. He was
Confessor to Sophia, the Queen of Bohemia, and
had been permitted to preach, in the language of
the people, in his chapel at Prague. Most fre
quently his solemn theme was the corruption of
the Court of Rome, her 'indulgences,' and her
exactions. His utterances gained the most enthusi
astic welcome from his eager hsteners ; and yet up
to that time he was held free — even by the testi
mony of his own Archbishop — from aU charges of
heresy. But it could not be that such a spirit as that of
Huss should remain free from antagonism to the
proceedings of such a Pope as then ruled the
Church, and who sent forth his emissaries to
preach a crusade against his neighbour the King
of Naples, accompanied, of course, by the accus-

118 The Council of Constance
tomed promises of indulgence to aU who took
part therein.
Huss vehemently opposed such preaching;
feeling ran high ; three of the foUowers of Huss
were seized, imprisoned, and privately done to
death ; and the Bohemian clergy, almost to a man,
banded themselves together in support of the
Church against John Huss and his dangerous
doctrine^. He received a summons to appear
before the Pope's tribunal at the Vatican. He
disregarded the citation. Speedily he received a
similar mandate to attend the Council at Constance.
That command he set himself instantly and fear
lessly to obey ; the more wiUingly from the fact
that he obtained from the then reigning Emperor;
Sigismund, a safe-conduct ' which was under
stood to be a pledge for his personal safety during
the whole period of his absence from Bohemia.'*
With good reason the accused might rely on such
a pledge, when the Pope himself had asserted,
' Though John Huss should murder my own
brother, I would use the whole of my power to
preserve him from every injury during all the
time of his residence at Constance.'
Huss was of too noble a spirit to believe that
the Council would plead that it had itself given
no safe-conduct, and that its honour was there
fore unpledged ; but the tmth is that although
the Pope might deprecate, and the Emperor dis-.
1. See Waddington, p. 589.

Huss before the Council 119
claim, aU share in such an act, only a month after
his arrival in Constance he was thrown into prison
and kept under the constant surveiUance of his
adversaries, to be brought at last before the
Council rather for condemnation than for trial.
His admiration for Wyclif and his work he
had cherished secretly in his own heart, but he
could not rest long without letting his feelings be
known. It was a prayer of Huss that when he
died he might find entrance where Wychf's soul
had gone before him, for he held him, he was
wont to say, a good and holy man, and tnUy
worthy of heaven. In fact, the charge against
Huss was generally that of complicity with the
heretical doctrines of the English Reformer.
Some forty-five distinct charges of heresy were
presented against Huss ; but though he doubtless
shared some of Wychf's opinions, it is noticeable
that the charges finaUy made against him were
three : namely, for his teachings that when pontiffs
or earthly rulers enriched the Church they did
evil to it ; that personal transgression disqualifies
any ecclesiastic, whether Pope or priest, for ad
ministering the sacraments ; and that tithes are
not dues but gifts of charity, and are entirely of
the nature of free-wiU offerings. Huss's line of
defence was precisely that adopted by Wychf
before him, and by Luther and his contemporaries
in after days. It was an appeal from Pope and
Church to the words of Scripture. Making that

120 The Council of Constance
appeal to Scripture, his voice was drowned in the
angry opposition -with which he was met ; but it
is nevertheless on record that he declared, ' I am
ready to retract these opinions when I am better
instructed by the Council.' He was however, from
the first, made to feel that the pro-vince of the
Council was not to argue but to decide ; ' to com
mand obedience to its decision or to enforce the
penalty.'* There was on no account to be a pubhc
disputation ; another plan was foUowed : he was
troubled, persecuted, by private questionings, and
these again were too often accompanied by threats
and insults. Yet nothing moved him, for he ' was
prepared,' he said, ' to afford an example in him
self of that enduring patience which he had so
frequently preached to others, and which he relied
upon the grace of God to grant him.' Set once
more before the Council his pleas were provocative
of nothing but cries of derision. Even the Em
peror Sigismund stood forward as his foe, declaring
' that among the errors of Huss, which had been
in part proved, and in part confessed, there was
not one which did not deserve the penal flames.'
Condemned, sent back to his dungeon, harassed
by his enemies' entreaties to lay aside his heresies,
the man stood firm. Over such a spirit his
foes had no power ; yet one test harder than
aU others was awaiting him, and that was the
tender, the affectionate appeal of one Bohemian
1 See Waddington, p. 593.

Martyrdom of Huss 12l
Noble, John of Chlum, who had ever been his
.disciple and his friend. If any prayers might move
the soul of Huss from its lofty purpose, it was such
as rose from a friendly heart. When aU other
pleas had failed to shake his constancy, ' My dear
master,' cried his loving foUower, ' I am unlettered,
land consequently unfit to counsel one so en
lightened as you. Nevertheless if you are secretly
conscious of any one of those errors which have
been publicly imputed to you, I do entreat you
not to feel any shame in retracting it ; but if, on
the contrary, you are convinced of your innocence,
I am so far from advising you to say anything
against your conscience, that I exhort you rather
to endure every form of torture than to renounce
anything you hold to be true.' There spoke the
true friend, and to him Huss made answer through
his tears ' that God was his witness, how ready he
had ever been, and stiU was, to retract on oath,
and with his whole heart, from the moment he
should be convicted of any error by evidence from
holy Scripture.''^
Never did braver, or gentler, more fearless, or
more humble martyr tread the way that leadeth
unto hfe. When Sigismund bade them commit
him to the flames, as they leapt up round him he
said but these words, ' Lord Jesus, I endure with
humUity this cruel death for thy sake, and I pray
thee pardon all my enemies.' The chariot of
1 Waddington, p. 594.

122 The Council of Constance
fire was at hand, and this faithful witness for God,
for righteousness and for truth, was soon at rest.
Ere another year had passed, this CouncU of
Constance doomed Jerome of Prague to the same
dark fate as that which made the glory of Huss's
constancy the more apparent.
The cry of the best men in the great Cathohc
Church for reform was met by this Council in the
fiercest spirit of reaction ; and this in such ruthless
fashion that they who had regard to the highest
interests of their Church might weU say, in that
hope deferred which maketh the heart sick, ' How
long, O Lord ? how long ? ' ' Truth is faUen in
the street and uprightness cannot enter ! ' ' Help,
Lord ! for the faithful fail from among the chil
dren of men ! '

IX
THE COUNCIL OF TRENT, A.D. 1545
In recording the proceedings of the Council of
Trent, it is difficult to say whether they possess
the greater interest for the student of theology
or for the historian.
The sixteenth century was notably an age of
discovery and of invention, rich with promises of
progress for the world.
The voyages of daring navigators like Vasco da
Gama, who led his fleet into the Indian seas,
and Columbus, who died in poverty and neglect,
after triumphantly revealing to Europe the lands
beyond the Westem ocean, were beginning to bear
fruit. The long smouldering discontent at the
Church's teaching and discipline broke fiercely
into flame, and the Reformation became an estab
lished fact.
Gutenberg, by his printing-press, set up in
the previous century, was giving wings to the
words of fearless men, and in this sixteenth ceu'
tury the seeds of rehgious reform were being
scattered far and wide among the nations.

124 The Council of Trent
Amid the landmarks with which history has
studded this period must be set the emphatic
reassertion of doctrine, of disciphne, and of
authority by the Church of Rome. Such was her
answer to the revolt against her, led by Luther ;
and so high was the spirit in which his attack was
met by the representatives of Rome, so marked
was the recovery of papal authority, and the
unification of the Church's teaching, that his
torians found themselves justified in describing
the movement resulting therefrom as a Counter-
Reformation wrought by the Cathohc Church
itself. Now of this movement, the CouncU of Trent,
which assembled in the year 1545, may be taken
as the sure and successful expression.
By delays and adjournments the deliberations of
this assembly were protracted for no less than eigh
teen years. The sessions were influenced by con
siderations not only theological, but also political.
High-minded and tolerant Cathohcs, such as
Cardinal Gonzaga or Cardinal Pole, were keenly
aUve to the real need of improvement of Church
disciphne and hfe. Such voices were faithfuUy
uplifted for reform from within, but the weight
of Jesuit opinion and feeling, born of enthusiastic
submission to the Holy See, was cast in favour of
those who thought the old ways better, and who
stood fast upon the old doctrines. In memory we
catch the echoes not only of warm debate between

Anxiety for the Church 125
learned ecclesiastics, but of the tread of armed
hosts, whose alternating successes and defeats
were reflected in the varying attitude assumed
from time to time by Churchmen towards each
other. Nor were the spiritual and temporal
leaders of the Protestant movement, absent though
they were from the Council, without sure influence
upon its deliberations.
Acting on behalf of the spiritual interests of
the laity, the attitude of that laity could not be
ignored. The members of the Council were con
strained to take account of the personal feelings
and aims of an Emperor like Charles V. They
were troubled by an anxiety, which they could not
fail to feel, at the success -with which, after his
conversion, or as his opponents would term it, his
perversion, to the Protestant side, Maurice of
Saxony won, by force of arms, safety and toleration
for the Reformers. From the twihght of mediaeval
life Europe was turning to the dawn of a more pro
gressive time. Attacks on faults chargeable to
the representatives of the Church, had, as history
makes clear to us, become fierce and frequent.
There was the gravest need that Churchmen should
set their house in order, and it was increasingly
felt that a most earnest attempt should be made
to eradicate the remaining evil wrought by schism
in the Popedom, and to purify and to quicken anew
the hfe of the Church.
Wide expression was given to the desire for

126 The Council of Trent
summoning one of those great Councils, to which
in her trials and difficulties the Church was wont
to tum for reassurance. But the conditions with
which the Papacy found itself beset in the six
teenth century were vastly different from those
with which, in former times, Rome had been caUed
upon to deal. In earher days she had tried to purge
herself from much that threatened to weaken
the loyalty of her devoted adherents. Previous
Councils concerned themselves with differences
between members of the same household of faith.
But the next great Council was convened when
the enemy was at her gates, for failure after failure
had befallen those who would have reformed her
from within ; and aU these ineffectual efforts
' hastened,' as Dr. Littledale says, ' the crash of
the Reformation.'
The Church's foes were no longer those of her
own household, but there were existing in England,
in Germany, and in Switzerland, companies of
reUgionists in open and uncompromising an
tagonism to the older Church. The task before
Rome was indeed a hard one. Whole nations were
estranged from her ; and the effort demanded from
her was that involved in the endeavour to win
her revolted children back again.
Now it is to be noted that Pope Leo X ex
pressed his condemnation of Martin Luther and
his teachings by pubhshing against the Reformer
a BuU, so caUed from the Latin word ' BuUa,'

Luther requests a Council 127
signifying a heavily embossed seal, which when
once attached to a document was regarded as
confirming and emphasizing its contents. And it
is interesting to remark, that against this utter
ance of the Pope, Luther made appeal for a general
Council of the Church, that might hear and judge
his position. Catholics themselves had begun to
feel very strongly that a dangerous crisis was
threatening, and Luther's plea was supported by
the Emperor Charles V, and by the Princes of
Germany, Protestant as weU as Catholic.
But within and -without the Church, feehngs
adverse to the calhng of such a Council found
quick expression.
There were devoted Catholics who would brook
no change whatever. There was a reforming party
with which the English cardinal, Reginald Pole,
was associated, who feared that, in a Council, votes
enough would be found to nuUify all efforts at
reform. There were the German Princes, who could not
tolerate the predominance of Itahan prelates,
and refused to accept Rome as the place of meeting.
And even when the ruling Pope, Clement VII,
proposed, as an alternative, Mantua or Milan, that
offer was rendered vain by his declaration that
' no theological questions upon which the Church
had spoken should be reopened.'
The next Pope, Paul III, on the other hand,
thought the meeting-place should be Mantua, but

128 The Council of Trent
ahenated the Protestants by declaring that it
should be held nowhere in Germany. However,
largely on account of the wise and tactful influence
of one of the cardinals — Contarini — a more har
monious spirit was created. It is true that the
Protestants viewed with some misgi-ving the
Pope's subsequent suggestion that the Council
should meet at Trent, in the Tyrol, for they
doubted whether even that meeting-place was
far enough removed from Italian influence ; but
political reasons brought the friendly aid of
Charles V to the side of the Protestants, with the
result that this great historical Council, convoked
by Pope Julius III, held its first session at Trent,
in the month of December, 1545. The earhest
vote determining the order of procedure, was to
the effect that votes should be recorded not by
nations but by individuals, and this from the first
gave great advantage to the Italian bishops.
As indicative of the faith dear to those assembled,
it is enough to say that, at an early period of the
proceedings, the members of the CouncU heartily
joined in reciting the Creed adopted by the
Fathers of the Church who met at Nicsea and at
Constantinople, a creed described as ' that firm
and only foundation against which the gates of
hell shall not prevaU.'
Before assembling for another session, Martin
Luther had passed to his rest ; while in the
changing exigencies of political life, the Emperor

The Canon of Scripture 129
Charles V was found preparing to crush the re
formers in Germany by force of arms.
The Pope was informed by his representatives
that the Council generaUy inchned to the con
sideration of the improvement demanded by
Church life and disciphne ; and that, in view of
the grave necessity for this, the discussion of
points of doctrine might be undertaken subse
quently. But such a desire was checked, and
the Council was directed to the consideration of
the Canon of Scripture.
Of aU the decrees pubhshed by the Council of
Trent, none was of greater interest or import
than its pronouncement on this subject.
It was debated, in the first place, whether all
the books were to be alike regarded and accepted ?
That question received a speedy answer in the
affirmative. It was agreed also, in reply to the
question as to whether there should be a fresh
inquiry into this canonical character before giving
such approval, that a private examination of the
evidence should be made, but that no statement
thereon should be entered on the acts of the
Council. Again the Council debated whether any
distinction should be drawn between the books, as
being some of them read merely for moral instruc
tion and others for proving the doctrines of
Christian behef ; and the Council determined
that there should be no such distinction made.
The result of the discussion was the publication

130 The Council of Trent
of two decrees on this important subject. The
first decree declared that Scripture and Tradition
are to be received and venerated equaUy, and
this, too, under pain of the Church's anathema
for a disregard of it. The second decree pro
claimed the Vulgate — the version of the Scriptures
translated into the Latin tongue by Jerome in
the latter part of the fourth century — ' to be the
sole authentic and standard Latin version. It
gave it such authority as to supersede the original
texts ; forbade the interpretation of scripture
contrary to the sense received by the Church, or
even contrary to the unanimous consent of the
Fathers, and made licences to read any Biblical
manuscript compulsory.'*
Strange it is, and sad too, to find at this juncture
the Emperor and the Pope together concerting
warhke measures against the Protestants of
Germany, simply on the unreal ground that these
had refused submission to the Council. From that
moment reconcihation was an impossibihty. How
Charles made successful war on those heretical
subjects of his ; how to the surprise of every one,
and most of all to the Pope, he befriended them
when they were at his mercy ; and how the Pope
sought to remove the Council from Trent to
Bologna, where his influence might be more
secure against a coahtion of French, German, and
Spanish bishops, are matters of history; whUe
1 Ency. Brit. : ' Council of Trent'

Attitude of Protestants 131
it certainly stands to the Emperor's credit that
his summons called back the papal legates who
had actuaUy quitted Trent, and that he prevailed
upon Cathohcs and Lutherans to agree upon a
message of peace to the reassembled Council —
a message, alas ! to which no effective response
was given.
A quarrel between the Pope and the King of
France caused the withdrawal of all the French
bishops from the Council, and the result was that
increased influence was gained by the Italian
party. Thence resulted decrees pressed on, in
the absence of the Protestants, who had been
urged by the Emperor's party to attend, but who
were wisely waiting for a safe-conduct. While
•that safe-conduct lacked clearness, while the
Protestants could count on safety ' only as far
as lay in the Council's power,' matters of doctrine
were determined, the doctrine of Transubstantia
tion was solemnly reasserted. Touching the
Eucharist, the chahce was refused to the laity.
The contention of the Reformers, was that they
could claim the cup by divine right and could
not be debarred from it without sin. Such a
position, it is needless to say, was unanimously
condemned. But no Protestants were yet at the Council, for
the decree granting a perfectly safe-conduct was
postponed, though a body of Protestant di-vines
were reported as being some forty miles off waiting

132 The Council of Trent
for it. But at all events their petition was sent on
before them. They prayed for a postponement of
doctrinal debate, and fearlessly demanded that aU
matters so far settled at Trent should be reopened.
They pleaded that the Pope should not, through his
legates, preside ; they contended that he should
be the first to set an example by his own self-
submission to the Council, while the Bishops
should for the time be held free of their oath of
aUegiance to the Pope, in order that they might
have at that Council the most perfect liberty of
speech and action. Still the safe-conduct was
held as insecure, while it is significant to hear of
an unwise utterance by a zealous Dominican,
who preached in the Cathedral at Trent, upon the
subject of the tares and the burning of them.
But the Protestants never participated in the
Council, and this for other reasons than their
mistrust of a questionably drawn safe-conduct.
The sittings of the Council were unexpectedly
cut short, for to the surprise of the Emperor
Charles, Maurice of Saxony, once the rising hope
of the Catholic party, suddenly changed sides.
He declared for the Protestants, swept hke a
tempest into the Tyrol, defeated Charles, and shut
him within the walls of Innspruck. Terror-stricken
at the threatening perils of war, the Council was
bent on flight. Its members had consulted and
debated together for some seven years ; but now,
in April, 1552, it held a brief session, declared its

Recall of the Council 133
sittings suspended for two years, and seemed to
have become altogether a matter of history.
But the story of the Council of Trent is as yet
far from being whoUy told. Other experiences
waited on its reassembly, for reassembled it was
after seven more eventful years in European his
tory. Popes had risen and passed. One, by name
Marcellus II, a pontiff giving promise of wise and
gentle bearing to aU men, gave place after a reign
of three short weeks to a stern, ascetic, but high-
minded successor, in Paul IV, who fixed the
Inquisition in Rome, who knew naught but im
patience with the rising liberty of the Protestants,
opposed with aU his strength every effort after
doctrinal reform, and -viewed with unaUoyed dis-
hke the possible reassembly of the Council of
Trent. But that was left to his successor, Pius
IV, and he, in spite of difficulties that might have
daunted many, convoked anew the Council of
Trent, which after its long adjournment re
assembled in the year 1560. In reply to the papal
summons Spain hesitated, and delayed in its
acceptance. France, it is true, readily obeyed
the caU ; but from the Princes of Germany there
came a refusal to associate themselves with any
Council that rejected the authority derivable
from an appeal to Scripture, and which denied to
the Protestants who might attend the right of
free discussion. Denmark dechned the in-vita-
tion, while the papal nuncio to the Court of Queen

134 The Council of Trent
Ehzabeth was stopped on the other side of the
Channel by the assurance that the message he had
been commissioned to convey would be unheeded.
Since the Council had adjourned some eight
years since, new personalities had come upon the
scene ; others, like the Emperor Charles, had
quitted it. So widespread and so self-assured had
the Reformation grown, that on the principle of
action and reaction being equal and opposite, a
similar spirit of self-rehance was kindled in the
Roman Catholic Church. To the aid of that
Church a new and an almost resistless source of
strength was afforded by the uprise of the order
of the Jesuits. Founded by Loyola some twenty-
five years before the reassembling of the Council,
and declaring its very first principle to be that of
the most implicit obedience to the Holy See, we
find without surprise that two of Loyola's closest
and most trusted foUowers were chosen as the
Pope's theologians at Trent. Remembering that
some of the keenest and best trained inteUects in
aU the Catholic communion were zealous servants
of this great Order, we can understand how it
speedily became, and stiU remains, one of the
most effective stays of the Church of Rome. It
made its influence felt amongst earthly mlers,
and through them directed the govemment of
their subjects. This was the new force that
brought fresh vigour and renewed confidence to
the whole Cathohc world-

The Index Expurgatorius 135
When the Council of Trent reassembled, it was
characterized by a different spirit. There was to
be no temporizing with heresy, no compromise
whatever with Protestant Princes. The Pope was
to be pre-eminent, and the Jesuits made him so ;
for when the question again arose as to Holy
Communion, in both kinds, the Jesuit leader
secured a decree referring the matter to the
decision of the Pope, and by so doing indirectly,
yet convincingly, decided the vexed question as
to the relative superiority of the Pope and the
Coimcil, in favour of the Pope. Under the same
influence the Council set itself to remedy what
was held to be the injury done to the Church by
the dissemination of Protestant literature. It
relegated to a Commission the consideration of
the question presented by the circulation of
heretical books. As a result, the efforts of a
recent Pope in securing a list of works deemed
spiritually perilous were approved ; and new
machinery for that purpose, by the issue of an
Index Expurgatorius, decreeing what books were
not to be read, was in effect the Church's answer
to the chaUenge of the printer.
So far from standing on her defence, we find
the Church now declaring her doctrines, asserting
her position, and aggressive in reply to the assaults
of her opponents. There was no longer talk about
safe-conducts, no parleying with her spiritual
adversaries, the spirit infused into the Council was

136 The Council of Trent
that of irreconcilable antagonism toward foes, who
should be swept altogether from her path. And
aU this was accompanied by so clear a statement
of the Church's own position and doctrine as to
make the decrees of the Council of Trent a source
of reference, and of confidence for faithful Catholics
down to the present time.
Such were the signal services rendered to the
Papacy by the Jesuits. Their method, their
attitude, their principles must be matters of
serious and endless debate wherever Cathohc and
Protestant are found confronting each other.
But in simple justice to the Order, it must not be
forgotten that it was through their infiuence that
the Council of Trent abolished the sale of In
dulgences, an evil practice which was the im
mediate cause of Luther's own revolt from Rome.
The Society of Jesus, for aU the charges brought
against it, and all the suspicion which its action
could not fail to inspire, can at least claim to be
the chief agent in the removal of ecclesiastical
abuses, by which the hfe of the Church was
healthier in foUo-wing years.
The last words of this historic assembly ere it
separated finally in 1563 were those declaring that
' the authority of the Holy See is untouched by any
decrees of the Council touching the reform of
morals and of disciphne.' To the papal authority
the Council of Trent restored aU that had been
lost or obscured at previous Councils. That

Protestant Feeling 137
authority might successfuUy appeal to the faithful
-within the Church's pale ; but no obedience, or
even recognition, could Protestant Europe ever
give to the Head even of the most venerable of
Churches, who sanctioned the nameless anguish
of the Inquisition, looked only with satisfaction
upon the awful tragedy of St. Bartholomew,
sped the Armada on its way with the papal
blessing on its hoped-for triumph, and mourned
with no common sorrow when the free winds of
heaven drove the ships of Spain upon the pitiless
rocks, or whelmed them in the depths of the sea.

X
THE VATICAN COUNCIL, A.D. 1869
After the reassembhng of the Council of Trent,
in the year 1560, and during aU its subsequent
proceedings, the influence of the Order of the
Jesuits resulted not only in the renewed -vigour
of Church life and action, but also in the restora
tion to the Papacy of that power which for a
lengthened period had been seemingly weakened
or ignored. The maintenance and the unques
tioned recognition of the authority of the Pope
formed the purpose of which the members of the
Society of Jesus never lost sight. The most
devoted liegemen of an earthly monarch never
showed greater loyalty than that which the Jesuits
rendered to their spiritual and absolute lord, the
supreme pontiff ; and their untiring allegiance
found its climax in their persistent, and at last
successful, efforts to draw from the Princes and
Prelates of the Church a decree establishing the
stupendous dogma of the infallibility of the Pope.
In season and out of season, the fidelity of the

The Jesuits opposed 139
Order was the same. Evil report as weU as good
report foUowed them, as history shows clearly
enough. The object of the members of the
Society in labouring for the universal acceptance
of the Pope's temporal power, their intervention
in the plans of Courts and Cabinets, and their
influence on the international concerns of the
people amongst whom they dwelt, resulted in
trouble to the political powers of the time, and
eventually to the Order itself.
When the great and popular French King,
known as Henry of Navarre, was slain by the
assassin RavaiUac, the order of the Jesuits was
banished subsequently by royal decree. It is
true that Louis XIV readmitted them, but such
was the pohtical disturbance generated by their
renewed interference, that in the eighteenth
century they were not only again expelled from
France, but they were banished as well from
Spain, from Portugal, and from other Catholic
States. At last even the Pope himself, Clement
XIV, found them guilty of disturbing the inter
national relationships of the powers of Europe.
He charged them with disloyalty to the constitu
tion established by their founder, and other
accusations were laid against them ; and by the
decree of Clement the Order of the Jesuits was
abolished, in the year 1773.
But the aim of the Order was not forgotten,
and those to whom that aim was most acceptable

140 The Vatican Council
were found among the Italian prelates and ecclesi
astics. These were the men of whom the more
hberal French bishops spoke as dweUing beyond
the mountains that formed the northern boundary
of Italy ; they were ' ultra montes,' and out of
those two Latin words was coined a name which,
from that day to this, represents that great
ecclesiastical and political theory of the absolute
monarchy of the Pope, known as ' Ultramon
tanism.' In fact, it is another word for the, high papal
notions cherished by the Jesuits and supported
by the great body of the Italian bishops and
clergy. The precise authority of the Pope was
a matter regarded as left somewhat indefinite,
even by the Council of Trent ; and this question,
unsettled as it was, proved the cause of discussion
between the French prelates, who leaned to the
authority of a Church Council, and the Itahan
clergy who exalted that of the Pope. But the
advocacy of the French bishops weakened and
almost ceased. And that result, it must be
acknowledged, was one of the unlooked-for issues
of the great French Revolution. The French
clergy bravely died beneath the guiUotine, or fled
for refuge to other lands that gave them kindly
shelter. How many an empty Bishopric the
Church moumed in France !
But Napoleon stiUed the revolutionary storm
with what Carlyle caUs ' a whiff of grape-shot.'

Cardinal Manning's Claims 141
In the day of his brief exaltation. Napoleon
concluded an agreement with the reigning Pope,
Pius VII. He, after forty years' suppression of
the Jesuits, restored their Order in the year 1814,
fiUed up the many vacant bishoprics in France
with men of strong Itahan and Ultramontane
sympathies, and so, in France, the old cry of
' Liberty, Equahty, and Fraternity ' availed no
thing before the renewed efforts of the Jesuits
to free iftie powers of ecclesiasticism from every
possible restraint, and to make the action taken
by that authority both instant and effective.
The influence of the Jesuits then, it wiU be seen,
was re-established in aU its pristine potency, and
they were free once more to prosecute their never-
forgotten scheme for the erection of the Papacy
into an absolute monarchy, not only spiritual
but temporal.
No Roman Cathohc ecclesiastic has given more
frank or emphatic expression to such an aspira
tion than the late Cardinal Manning, who says,*
' There is not another Church so caUed, nor any
community professing to be a Church, which does
not submit, or obey, or hold its peace, when the
civil governors of the world command.' , ' The
Cathohc Church,' he further declares,^ ' cannot
be silent, it cannot hold its peace, it cannot cease
to preach the doctrines of Revelation, not only of
1 ' The Present Crisis of the Holy See,' p. 75. London, 1861.
« Page 73.

142 The Vatican Council
the Trinity and of the Incarnation, but hkewise
of the Seven Sacraments, and of the Infalhbility
of the Church of God ; and of the necessity of
unity, and of the sovereignty, both spiritual and
temporal, of the Holy See.'
It is to be most seriously noted, therefore, that
the spiritual and temporal authority of the
Papacy is, -without any limitation whatever, to
be implicitly accepted, not merely as a human
theory, however true, but as a veritable doctrine
of Revelation. The conceptions and aims of the
Ultramontane party in the Church of Rome could
not be more emphatically or definitely expressed.
The Churchmen who shared these ideas were of
the same school as those who did so much to
advance the autocracy of the Pope by their
efforts at the Council of Trent. Three hundred
years afterwards, as the consistent successors of
those men, they strove most earnestly and, as
it proved, most successfuUy, for the assembly
of a Council at the Vatican, which they fervently
trusted would crown with completeness aU their
previous efforts, by the establishment of the
universal supremacy of the Roman pontiff.
Alert but patient, the Ultramontanes waited
a fit occasion for the advancement of their purpose.
For, it must be observed, there was one important
point wherein the Vatican Council differed from
aU the previous great CouncUs of the Church.
AU the Councils had been convened at the prayer

Aim of the Ultramontanes 143
or desire of the Church. But this was not the
case with the Vatican Council. So far was it
from being demanded by Catholics generally, that
the proposal to summon it was viewed by many
with anxiety, if not with positive alarm.
The origination of it lay with the Pope alone,
and the opportunity, so expectantly waited for
by the Jesuits, was brought appreciably nearer
by the elevation of Pope Pius IX to the papal
throne in the year 1846. It must be admitted
that the characteristics which marked this pontiff
proved favourable to the long cherished purpose
of the Ultramontane section of the Roman Catholic
clergy. The Pope held a high conception of his
prerogative, he was distinctly amenable to in
fluence, he was, in fact, the very kind of instrument
to prove effective under the skilful direction of
the Jesuits.
Trial was made in two instances as to the
length to which the Pope might be expected to
go. A pronouncement of the Pope conceming
the Immaculate Conception met naturally with
no objection. A second declaration was made by
Pius IX in the year 1864, and this was none other
than the famous ' SyUabus of Errors,' the scope
of which can be. apprehended from its very title.
To this papal utterance very httle opposition was
offered ; but it is to be carefuUy noted that the
majority of prelates composed of Italian bishops
was as considerable and reliable as it had been

144 The Vatican Council
in the days of the Council of Trent, possibly
more so, since a very large number of Bishops
had been appointed by Pope Pius, and every one
of them was a member of the Ultramontane party.
To such a body of ecclesiastics the proposal of
the Pope to summon a Council at once approved
itself. In the month of June, 1867, some five hundred
Bishops gathered in Rome for the eighteen-
hundredth anniversary of the martyrdom of
Peter and Paul ; and to that great company a
pubhc intimation of the Pope's resolve for a
General Council was addressed. In the year
foUo-wing, an invitation was sent out not only to
the dignitaries of the Cathohc Church in the West,
but to the Bishops of ' the Oriental rite ' ; in
other words. Bishops of the Eastern Church ; and
to Protestants also an invitation was offered.
But, before an answer was given to the in-vita-
tion, the pastors of the Eastern Church were
required to declare that they accepted the Roman
Cathohc system in its entirety; whUe the
Protestants were duly informed that they would
be subjected to the instmction of 'experienced
men,' that they might be led ' to reahze and to
repent of their theological errors.' It is needless
to add that, in both of these instances, the papal
invitation was declined.
By a papal BuU the CouncU was convoked for
8 December, 1869 ; but, as has been already

Catholic Anxiety 145
stated, even Catholic communities looked askance
at it. The Bavarian foreign minister, Prince
Hohenlohe, addressed to the European Courts a
waming of possible pohtical dangers attendant
upon the holding of such a CouncU for the declara
tion of the Pope's InfaUibihty. The proposal
was deprecated also by an assembly of German
Catholic Bishops at Fulda.
But the Pope's resolve was taken, and just
before the meeting of the Council at the Vatican,
the Pope, by personally prescribing the method
of procedure, made it clear that his will was to
be paramount. At his express order, there could
be brought before the Council no proposal what
ever that was ahen or in the slightest degree hostile
to Roman Catholic tradition. To aU, again,
outside the Council the most rigid secrecy was
to be observed ; but the most conclusive evidence
of the influence of the Pope is found in the fact
that aU the officials of the CouncU were to be
elected, not by the Council, but solely by the
Pope himself.
It was indeed a noteworthy company that
assembled on the date fixed by Pope Pius IX :
Bishops, Cardinals, Abbots, Generals of Orders —
764 in aU — or in other words, about three-fourths
of the whole Roman Episcopate.
The minority, in whose eyes the proposal to
declare the Pope infaUible found no favour,
numbered about 160 ; while it appears, on the
K

146 The Vatican Council
authority of Dr- Littledale, that of the large
majority, three hundred, were the Pope's own
personal guests.
Against that majority were ranged the German
and the Austrian Bishops, with a large contipggflt
of prelates from Fraiice, from Hungary, anjj from
North Ainerica.
But the minority lacked the welding force of
uniformity. Its members spoke not with the
same voice, nor to the same purpose. Pressed
and confused when face to face with the serrif d
phalanx of Ultramontane feeling and belief, they
went so far as to admit the binding character of
a papal decree when uttered ex cathedra, and
they aUowed obedience to every decree of the
See of Roine to be obligatory on all Christians.
Confronted with such wayering opponent?, it i§
not surprising that Cardinal Manning was foU
lowed by hundreds of enthugiastic an4 inflesjbk
Ultramontanes when he strongly appealed for a
definition of the new dogma of papal InfalUbihty
which he was ready to welcome.
Free and fuU discussion, however, was rendered
iinpossible by the acceptance of mles that cut
short aU lengthened (Jebftte, and allowed any
ten members pf the Council power to ^em^nd
the closure.
One of the earliest pronouncements of the
Council was a long declaration cgndeninatdry of
Modern Rationahsm; but what is peculiarly

The Pope paramount 147
ftOtfewOrthy in regard to that declaration is the
fact that the form in which it was published was
altogether without precedent. The form was that
Of a prodamation by the Pope personaUy, a sig
nificant expression being added thus—' the Sacred
CouncU approving.'
The question of the relative superiority of
Council or of Pope was in process of solution,
and that too in accordance with the long cherished
desire of the Jesuits. On 13 July, 1870, the
Council recorded its decision upon the great ques
tions laid before it by the Pope.
The members were asked to decree that St.
Peter was personally and solely entrusted with
primacy of jurisdiction over the whole Church ;
that by divine institution and right that primacy
was for ever vested in the line of the Roman
pontiffs ; that all clergy and laity, both individu-
aUy and coUectively, are bound to submit them
selves to this jurisdiction divinely bestowed upon
the Pope ; that an appeal to any Council whatever
frOm the decision of the Supreme Pontiff is simply
unlawful ; and, finaUy, that when the Pope
speaks ex cathedra, that is, in his office as
Pope, and declares that any doctrine of faith or
of morals is to be accepted by the Universal
Church, the Pope is infallible.
Such were the momentous declarations which
awaited the vote of. the ecclesiastics, six hundred
and Seventy-one being assembled. They were

148 The Vatican Council
divided in their opinion, a minority of two hundred
and twenty destrojdng that practical unanimity
always held essential to the enacting of a dogmatic
decree. This, however, was regarded but as a
preliminary vote upon the great questions that
were yet to receive a final and an authoritative
confirmation at a future session.
But before that session was held, suddenly, after
lodging a protest, all the Bishops constituting the
minority left Rome. Although no definite state
ment is to be found as to the cause of their un
expected withdrawal, they must have felt most
strongly that any further protest on their part
would have been of no avail.
On i8 July, 1870, however, by a vote of five
hundred and thirty-five prelates against two, the
decree of papal InfaUibihty was finaUy confirmed
by the Pope. Support was sought for that con
firmation by the threat of excommunication
against aU who, directly or indirectly, might
interfere with any ecclesiastical jurisdiction ; and
against aU, too, who might impede or deter the
officers of the Holy Office of the Inquisition in the
execution of their duties.
The work of the Vatican Council was thus
accomphshed, but when men strove so earnestly,
as did the Ultramontanes, for papal InfaUibihty,
and believed with Cardinal Manning ' that on the
destruction of the temporal power . . . the laws
of nations would at once faU into ruins,' it is a

The Temporal Power 149
solemn sign of the inefficacy of their purpose
and toil, that on the very day when the Council
decreed the authority and InfaUibihty of the
Pope, Napoleon III, ' the eldest son of the Church,'
as he was styled, recklessly and bhndly flung
down the gauntlet of war against Prassia, a foe
as ready as she was resolute, with the result that
she stretched out a strong hand of aid to Italy.
The war of 1870, so disastrous to the Cathohc
ruler that had declared it, actually issued in the
overthrow of the Temporal Power, and in the
occupation of papal Rome by the troops of the
King of Italy.
It must be admitted too, that in the realms of
thought and faith the Vatican decrees lacked that
permanent and wide acceptance hoped for by
the majority of the Council.
It was determined that from the decision of the
Pope appeal was impossible. To tum to reason
would be to incur the ban pronounced on
Rationalism. If a man presumed to traverse a
declaration of the Pope by reference to the facts
of history he would be chargeable with the erection
of his private judgment against acknowledged
infallibility. If he sought a justification from
Scripture, he was guilty of the sin of heresy.
Moreover, it lay with the Pope alone to say when
his words were spoken ex cathedra, and when
they were not. It was therefore useless to plead
that the declarations of the Roman pontiff were

130 the VfttiCfttt Council
M variance with the Utterances of any of his pre
decessors, for the tope Was in the right, through
the power Vested in him, if he declared that those
predecessors were not speaking ex cathedra.
-From those Without thfe pale of the great
Church whose claims, whose doctrines, and -#hoSfe
deeds history has diselosed to us, it vfould be an
easynitatter to coUect opinions traversing with
unreserved severity the record Sf her Career.
But, as a guide to oiir own judgment, it is niofe
just to listen to the testimony of her o-wn faithful
adherents^ in regard to the Usefulness Or the
permanency of the work of such as thoSe who
took part in this last great CouneU.
The ttanie of John Henry Newman is one that
the Cathohc ChtifCh holds in hbnOiir; The isStie
of the Vatican Council he regarded as ' a great
calamity,' and he distinctly holds ' an aggressive
insolent fattion ' as responsible tor it. It is
within the recoUection of many that he went so
far as to address a letter to the leader of the
Enghsh Catholic nobihty, the Duke of Norfolk, in
which he enumerated certain instances in which
he -wotild disobey the Pope's command. Sup'
posing himself to be gravely exercised by Suth a
mandate, he says, ' I should look to see what
theologians could do for me. What the bishops
and clergy aronnd me, what my confessor, what
Mends whom I reveired ; and if, after aU, I cOtiid
ndt take their view of the matter, then I must

Position of Cardinal Newman 151
rale myself by my own judgment and my own
conscience.' Surely such a position, so taken up,
is utterly irreconcilable with the decree of papal
Infallibility, and strange it is to reflect that he
who thus fell back upon the right and authority
of private judgment should have been made a
cardinal. Such words as he has left on record
show that the conflict between the individual soul
and external authority is unended even yet, for
stiU the tremendous alternative is Rome or
Reason.

THE END

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