Adolf Harnack · 13 of 19

3. The Monophysite Controversies and the Fifth Council.

§ 3. The Monophysite Controversies and the Fifth Council.

I. The severest condemnation of the Chalcedonian Creed as decree wrung from the Eastern Churches, is to be found in the history of the next 68 years. These years are not only marked by the most frightful revolts on the part of the populace and the monks, particularly in Egypt, Palestine, and a part of Syria, but also by the attempts of the Emperors to get rid of the decree which had been issued with a definite end in view, and which was a source of difficulty and threatened the security of the Empire. They were all the more under the necessity of making these attempts, that in the East energetic theologians who could defend the Chalcedonian Creed were entirely lacking. At this period it maintained its position only by means of the great importance given to it by the imposing Council, by the majority of the clergy in the capital, and by the Roman bishop. These were strong forces; but the strength of the opposition to it, which was supported by the increasing aversion to the Byzantine Emperor and his Patriarch, by national aspirations and personal antipathies. was also great. In addition to this the pious-minded felt as much aggrieved by the fact that a new formula had been introduced at all as by what was in the formula itself. The Encyclical letter (ἐγκύκλιον) of the usurper Basilikus (476) which abrogated the Chalcedonian Creed and decided in favour of Monophysitism, had certainly only a passing importance. But state-policy was successful in uniting a section of the Chalcedonians and Monophysites by means of a Henoticon (482), which, when issued as an imperial edict by Zeno, virtually annulled the decree of 451. The result was that soon instead of two parties there were three; for not only did the strict Monophysites renounce their allegiance to the Alexandrian patriarch Peter Mongus who had concluded a union with his Constantinopolitan colleague Acacius, but the Roman bishop too, Felix II., (see the epp.) rejected the Henoticon and pronounced sentence of excommunication on Acacius. Old and New Rome, which were already separated by political circumstances, now came to be divided ecclesiastically, and this schism lasted from 484 to 519. Since the Henoticon soon shewed itself to be ineffective, it would have been brought to an end sooner if Rome had not insisted on the condemnation of Acacius by his successors. The Monophysites soon came forward again openly rejecting the Chalcedonian Creed, and those in the Eastern Empire who adhered to it, and also the Henotics, had at first difficulty in preventing the new Emperor Anastasius from formally doing away with the unfortunate decree. The confusion was now greater than it had ever been. People who used one and the same Christological formula were often further apart and more bitter against one another than were those who were separated by. the wording of the formulæ. If the Emperor had not been a capable ruler, things in the Empire would have got out of joint. He was meanwhile always approaching nearer to Monophysitism with which he was personally in sympathy, and on the side of which stood not only the more fanatical, but also the more capable theologians, such as Philoxenus of Mabug, and Severus. In Syria and Palestine the Monophysite cause already triumphed amid terrors of all sorts; but the capital, Constantinople, and Thrace, with the true instinct of self-preservation held to the Chalcedonian Creed against the Emperor, the patron of heretics, and Vitalian, a fierce general, a semi-barbarian, and rebel who was yet the forerunner of Justinian who taught him politics, made common cause with the Chalcedonians against his monarch. The Emperor had to submit to the powerful general; but it was not possible, even by making all sorts of concessions in regard to the dogmatic question, to get Rome, which put forward exorbitant claims, to agree to a policy of oblivion in reference to Acacius. Anastasius did not come to any agreement with the Pope Hormisdas. But what he did not succeed in doing was successfully accomplished by his successor Justin, or rather by the nephew and director of the new Emperor Justin, Justinian, in conjunction with Vitalian. They saw that for the re-establishment of the authority of the Emperor and the state in the Empire, the re-establishment of the Chalcedonian Creed and of the league with Rome, was indispensable. After that the authority of the four Councils had been once more solemnly recognised in Constantinople, everywhere throughout the Empire the orthodox raised their heads. Hormisdas did not himself appear in the capital; but his legates succeeded in getting almost everything he had asked. Again did the Roman bishop, like Leo before him, help the Byzantine State to gain the victory over the ecclesiastical movements. Orthodoxy was again restored and the names of the authors and defenders of the Henotikon, from Acacius and Zeno downwards were erased from the sacred books (519). The purification of Syria and its chair from the monophysite heresy meanwhile created some difficulty. The attempt to get the more determined Monophysites out of the way was, it is true, successful, but as soon it became a question as to who were to be their successors, it at once became evident again that the Chalcedonian Creed was understood in a different way in Rome and in the East respectively, and that the East had not got rid of the suspicion of Nestorianism so far as Rome was concerned.

This difference emerged in a very characteristic fortn in the so-called Theopaschitian controversy. The formulæ, “God has suffered”, “God was crucified”, were time-honoured forms of speech in the Church and had never been quite forgotten. But after there had been so much speculation regarding the and the , these formula came to be discussed too. Still, even after the formation of the Chalcedonian Creed, it seemed to be impossible to disapprove of them; for if Mary was to be called θεοτόκος this meant that they were approved of. Nevertheless opposition soon shewed itself when the Monophysite patriarch of Antioch, Petrus Fullo, with the approval of his co-religionists, formulated the Trishagion as follows: Holy God, Holy the mighty one, Holy the immortal one who was crucified for us: ἅγιος ὁ Θεός, ἅγιος ἰσχυρός, ἅγιος ἀθάνατος, ὁ σταυρωθεὶς δι᾽ ἡμᾶς. The Emperor approved of this innovation which, however, at once met with opposition in Antioch itself, and which cost one of those who had to do with it his life. In the capital a controversy broke out when some Scythian monks, whose soundness in the faith was unimpeachable, defended the orthodoxy of the formula, “one of the Trinity was crucified—suffered in the flesh” (“unum de trinitate, esse crucifixum—passum carne”), about the year 518. The legates of Pope Hormisdas, bearing in mind Leo’s doctrinal letter, opposed it as being incompatible with the Catholic Faith! The Pope himself was now concerned in the matter. A decision was necessarily urgently desired—on the part of the Emperor too; for the relations had become so strained that any sudden movement might throw the whole Church into confusion. Hormisdas hesitated about giving an answer; he neither wished to disavow his legates nor too openly to reject the formulæ. The decision which he finally gave in a letter to the Emperor Justin (521), was to the effect that everything was already decided, without, however, saying what was to be regarded as authoritative. This declaration which shewed his perplexity roused just indignation not only in Constantinople but also in North Africa. Justinian, who at first did not approve of the formula,—so long, that is, as he still followed in the wake of Vitalian,— afterwards held to it all the more strongly, the more he urged the strictly Cyrillian interpretation of the Chalcedonian Creed. When he had the power he got the Popes too to acknowledge it, had the faithful but impolitic partisans of Rome, the Akoimetan monks in Constantinople, excommunicated, and finally got the formula sanctioned at the Fifth Ecumenical Council, that our Lord who was crucified in the flesh, Jesus Christ, was one of the Trinity.

It is apparently necessary to make a sharp distinction between the attempt of the Monophysites to give an extension to the Trishagion in a Theopaschitian sense, and the assertion of the Scythian monks that the doctrinal formula: “One of the Trinity suffered in the flesh”, was orthodox. That attempt was rejected because it involved an innovation in worship and because it could be interpreted in a Sabellian sense. Orthodoxy putting this meaning on it, gave the name “Theopaschitian” a permanent place in its collection as a heretical name. On the other hand it was, to begin with, purely owing to Roman obstinacy that the formula proposed by the Scythians, and which, moreover, rather than adopts the monophysite formula, was objected to. But it has been recently very justly remarked that the cause of the offence which the formula gave, even to some of the Chalcedonians, is not to be looked for within the Christological, but on the contrary within the Trinitarian, domain. This brings us to a complete change which took place in the theology of that period and which claims the most serious attention.

Attention has been already drawn to the fact, (Vol. III., p. 154 and above p. 126) that in the course of the transition from the fifth to the sixth century Aristotelianism once more became the fashion in science. This revolution helped to bring about the naturalisation of the Chalcedonian Creed in the Church, or what amounts to the same thing, contributed towards Greek religious feeling to it. While up to the beginning of the sixth century orthodoxy was without any theologians, we come across a man in the first half of the century who both as theologian and student of dogma was as able as he was prolific, and in the case of whom one feels that while he believes and thinks as Cyril believed and thought, his determined defence of the Chalcedonian Creed was nevertheless not in any way forced out of him—Leontius of Byzantium (c. 485-543). When, however, we try to find out by what means he, as a theologian of the school of Cyril, succeeded in accommodating himself to the Chalcedonian Creed, it becomes clear that he was helped to this by the Aristotelian conceptual distinctions, and therefore by scholasticism. Leontius was the first scholastic. While, owing to his faith, he stood in an intimate relation to Greek religious feeling, the Chalcedonian formula presented itself to him as an inviolable doctrine promulgated by the Church. But while he unweariedly defended it against Nestorians, Apollinarians, and Severians, dogmatic and religious considerations were put entirely into the background; their place was taken by an exposition of doctrine based on philosophical conceptions. He treated of substance, genus, species, individual being, of the attributes which constitute the substance, of inseparable accidents and of separable accidents. It was on the result of these discussions that the conceptions of the natures and the hypostasis in Christ were based; the Aristotelian δευτέρα οὐσία, or second substance, was given a place of prominence, and thus the Chalcedonian Creed was justified. All the Aristotelian splitting of conceptions did not, it is true, cover the most crucial point of all—namely, the exposition of the unity. Here, however, Leontius had recourse to the idea of the Enhypostasis of the human nature; thus proving in the clearest way that he wished to keep the Chalcedonian definition on the lines laid down by Apollinaris and Cyril and not on those laid down in Leo’s doctrinal letter. In the whole way in which Leontius transferred the Nestorian-Monophysite controversy into the region of Philosophy, we may accordingly see a momentous revolution. This much, however, is certain, that his violent μετάβασις εἰς ἄλλο γένος was the condition of the gradual reconciliation of the East with the Chalcedonian Creed and that in intrinsic importance it may be classed along with the method of counting up authorities. Only in this way was it possible for Leontius to accept the formula as authoritative, and, spite of the dry form in which it was put, to regard it with respect from the religious point of view and at the same time to see in it an inexhaustible subject for the display of dialectical skill. It is undeniable that Chalcedonian orthodoxy was first firmly established in the East in the age of Justinian, that is to say, inner agreement with the Chalcedonian Creed was then first secured to any large extent, and this without abandoning Cyril’s religious theology, but on the contrary while emphasising it and giving it the preference. If this is so then the only possible explanation of these facts is that supplied by the entrance of Aristotelian scholasticism into the Church. The Chalcedonian dogma is lost in philosophical theology. The Faith and the Church were to a certain extent relieved, feeling reassured by the knowledge that the dogma was in safe keeping and in good hands, as it were. One can forget the scruples to which it gives rise, when one is confident that there are scholars who are able by the aid of a definite set of technical terms to make everything right. Here, too, for this reason, the work of the historian of dogma ceases; his place is taken by the historian of theology.

Leontius was himself one of the Scythian monks. The fact that this great opponent of the Monophysites championed the Theopaschitian formula and his criticism of the Antiochian theology, prove how far removed he was from Nestorianism. But the formula by its characteristic difference from the older conception, that of Petrus Fullo, further proves that the introduction of the Aristotelian philosophy into theology called for a restatement of the docttine of the Trinity. The “unus ex trinitate” is opposed to the “thrice holy” who was crucified for us. Tritheistic tendencies were not wanting at that period, and this is true of both sides in so far as attention was given to the Aristotelian philosophy. That Petrus Fullo, who as a Monophysite so energetically made the Trinity into a unity, was, it is true, no Aristotelian, but neither is his formula in any way typical of Monophysitism as a whole.

The latter on the contrary for the two or three generations after the Chalcedonian Creed, shews that it had in it sufficient life and vigour to be accessible to the influence of the most varied movements and thoughts. It shews during this period that it was the expression of spiritual and theological life in the East generally. The state of petrifaction, barrenness, and barbarism into which it afterwards got, did not yet actually exist, although signs of its approach were evident amongst the fanatical masses and the ignorant monks. It is significant, to begin with, that Monophysitism did not allow itself to be carried to extremes by the blow dealt it by the Chalcedonian Creed. That is a proof of the goodness of its cause and of its power. The Monophysites were strongly bent on keeping clear of “Eutychianism”. Anything like mingling or transformation was out of the question, in fact Eutyches himself was abandoned to his fate. Then the readiness shewn by a large section of the Monophysites to come to terms with orthodoxy if only the Chalcedonian Creed and the objectionable dogmatic development in Leo’s doctrinal letter were got out of the way, is a proof that they really strictly maintained the position of Cyril. This is true very specially of the most important champion of Monophysitism—Severus. The attempt has indeed been to draw a distinction, as regards doctrine, between Cyril and Severus, but the attempt does not seem to me to have been successful. Cyril, equally with Severus, would have objected to Leo’s assertion that each nature in Christ effects what is peculiar to it, though in conjunction with the other. The emphasis laid by Severus on the one energy is genuinely Cyrillian, and the expression borrowed from the Areopagite, ἐνέργεια θεανδρική, “theandric energy”, by no means approaches so near the limits of the permissible as the expression θεοτόκος. But neither is there any difference in the formulæ, μία φύσις τοῦ λόγου σεσαρκωμένη, “one incarnate nature of the Logos” and μία φύσις τοῦ λόγου σεσαρκωμένου, “one nature of the incarnate Logos”; for Cyril too, logically attributed one nature not only to the God-Logos but also to the Christ. The communication of properties according to him, involves in every respect the natures. But there is not even any trace of a theological difference between Severus and Leontius. The difference consists purely in the extent to which each was desirous of accommodating his views to the Chalcedonian Creed and interpreting Leo’s doctrinal letter in bonam partem, and also in the philosophico-theological terminology employed. The statements of Severus regarding the one composite nature, the μεταστοιχείωσις or transformation etc., express absolutely nothing else than what is found in the formulæ of Leontius which are in part expressed in an entirely different and in fact in an opposite way. Leontius accepts the enhypostasis of the human nature in Christ, and Severus strictly defends himself against the supposition that he teaches that the human nature in any way loses its natural peculiarity in the union. It is simply that unfortunate Chalcedonian Creed which stands between the opponents, and what separates them therefore is the question as to whether the Western terminology is to be followed or not. That this is the case is proved by the attitude taken up by Severus to the Extreme Right of his party. The Henoticon had already split up the Egyptian Monophysites. One section of them had renounced connection with Petrus Mongus (ἀκέφαλοι). But in Syria, too, at the beginning of the Fifth Century we find several tendencies amongst them. The blow dealt them after the restoration of orthodoxy in 519 drove them to Egypt, and there actual splits took place. Even the strictest party amongst them did not put forth the catchword “transformation”; but in seriously reflecting on the problem as to how a human nature must be constituted after a God had made it His own, they arrived at propositions which were perfectly logical and which for this very reason referred back to Irenæus, Clemens Alex., Origen, Gregory Nyss., Hilary, Apollinaris, and to some utterances of Dioscurus and Eutyches. Their leader, Julian of Halicarnassus who was opposed by the Severians, developed the doctrine of the one nature into the doctrine of the identity of the substance and properties of the divinity and the humanity in Christ. The hypothesis of the indestructibleness of the body of Christ from the moment of the assumptio, became the shibloleth of the “Julianists” or Gaians, who, now nicknamed Aphthartodoketæ and Phantasiasts by the Severians, retorted with the word “Phthartolatry”. The Julianists, whose point of view was determined solely by the thought of , did not shrink from maintaining the perfect of the body of Christ from the very first, and in accordance with this saw in the emotions and sufferings of Christ not the natural—though in reference to the Godhead the voluntary—states consequent on the human nature, but the acceptance of states κατὰ χάριν, which were regarded as having no inner connection with the nature of the Redeemer as that of the God-man. This nature being entirely free from all sin was also supposed to have nothing in common with suffering and death. In opposition to this view the Severians laid so much stress on the relation of the sufferings of Christ to the human side of Christ's nature in order to rid them of anything doketic, that no Western could have more effectively attacked doketism than they did. We find in general amongst the Severians such a determined rejection of all doctrinal extravagances—though these are not to be regarded as absurdities, but as signs of the settled nature of the belief in redemption—that we are glad to be able clearly to see how unnecessary it was in the East to adopt the Chalcedonian Creed, and to replace the μία φύσις of Cyril by the doubtful doctrine of the two natures. One section of the Monophysites nevertheless went the length of asserting that the human soul of Christ was not omniscient (“Agnoetæ”), so that as regards the one energy of the God-Man, a distinction is to be drawn even in the sphere of knowledge between what it did as possessed of divine knowledge and what it did as humanly ignorant. This idea yields to none of the Monophysite eccentricities in absurdity, and indeed it differs from them for the worse by the fact of its having no religious thought as its basis. While one section of the Monophysites thus did the work of criticising their own party better than any Chalcedonian could have done without incurring the reproach of Nestorian-ism, a philosophy of identity made its appearance amongst certain individuals in the party itself, which might have raised the fear that it would turn into Pantheism, if there had been any danger of its doing this at the time. On the mystical side, this had indeed been accomplished long ago, but this was very far from involving an intellectual mode of conceiving of things. Still it is of importance to note that an approach was made in this direction from two sides. First there were Monophysites who took up with the thought that the body of Christ from the moment of the assumptio was to be considered as untreated, the view of the Aktistetæ. If the Father can communicate to the Son the attribute of unbegottenness, and at that time no one any longer doubted that he could, why should the Logos not also be able to give His body the attributes of the uncreated; and in fact if it is His body, could He help doing this? Here already we meet with the thought that something created can nevertheless be something eternal. We hear no more of a flesh which was brought hither from heaven, but a kindred idea takes the place of this heretical thought. In the second place there were people, the Adiaphorites, who refused to make any distinction between the divinity and the humanity in Christ, and this denial of all distinction further led some Syrian and Egyptian monks to the speculative idea, or to put it otherwise, gave increased strength to the speculative idea, that Nature in general is of one substance with God (see Vol. III., p. 302), a thought which had points of contact with mystical religious practices. If all these movements illustrate the inner life of Monophysitism which within itself once more passed through old forms of development, the attention it gave to the Aristotelian philosophy and such excellent works as those published by Joh. Philoponus, finally proves too that it did not in any way shrink from contact with the great spiritual forces of the time. The tritheistic controversy was in all essential respects fought out on its own ground, and the boldness and freedom shewn by the scholarly Monophysites, in the face too of tradition, bears witness to the fact that in the Chalcedonian Creed a foreign power had imposed itself on the Church of the East.

2. The restitution of orthodoxy in the year 519 coincides with the successful efforts of the theologians who were skilled in the Aristotelian philosophy, to furnish the Church which clung to the Chalcedonian Creed with a good conscience. It is possible to accept the Chalcedonian Creed as authoritative and at the same time to think exactly as Cyril thought: this was the result arrived at by the “new Cappadocians”, the “new Conservatives”, as Leontius and his friends came to be called, who made terms with the two natures in the same way as the oriental scholars in the Fourth Century did with the ὁμοούσιος; and it is this which lies at the basis of Justinian’s policy in reference both to the Church and the State. If the efforts of former emperors in so far as they favoured Monophysitism were directed towards getting rid of the Chalcedonian Creed or consigning it to oblivion, the policy of the Emperor, which had the support of the new conservative theology, was to make use of the power which every fait accompli, and therefore too a Council, supplies, and at the same time to do justice to the old tendencies of Greek piety. It was the Roman bishop who was hardest hit by such a policy. For the second time he had contributed towards giving the Emperor of the East a firmer position in the country, this time by doing away with the schism. But the friend had not become any more harmless than he was in the year 451. As at that time he was, after having done what was required of him, quietly pushed back within his own boundaries by the 28th Canon of the Council, so on this occasion too he was to get a poor reward for his services. It was not intended that Rome should triumph in the East, but that the Emperor of the East should once more become the Lord of Rome. The dogmatic union with the West represented the terms on which it was to be made ecclesiastically and politically subject to the Emperor.

Justinian’s policy has in it an element of greatness. He once more set up the world-empire and pacified the Church, and yet his civil and ecclesiastical policy of conquest was unsound and its results lacked permanence. He did not know how to win over the Monophysites, and by his Western policy he did harm to the much more important Eastern policy. Some years after his accession Justinian arranged a grand religious discussion in Constantinople between the Severians and the Theopaschitian Orthodox (531). It is of some importance because it shews the extent of the advances made by the Orthodox towards the Monophysites under the guidance of Hypatius of Ephesus in conformity with the wish of the Emperor. The orthodox held firmly to the Chalcedonian Creed, but allowed that the Council had also approved of the phrase, one incarnate nature (!); on the other hand they rejected as Apollinarian forgeries the testimonies of their opponents in reference to the condemnation of the words “in duabis naturis” on the part of the ancient fathers. About the same time the Emperor issued several edicts regarding the true Faith (533), which in thesi were based on the Chalcedonian Creed, but did not reproduce its formulæ; on the contrary they evaded the use of them and contained besides, the addition that it is necessary to believe that the Lord who suffered was one of the Holy Trinity. The Emperor, who had himself an interest in dogma, already here shewed what his policy was, namely, to take back the Church in all that was essential entirely to Cyril, but to allow the Chalcedonian Creed to remain authoritative. Thus as matters stood, the formula: ἕνα τῆς ἁγίας τρίαδος πεπονθέναι σαρκί, “one of the Holy Trinity suffered in the flesh”, was a henotikon. But the Empress went still further. She had always favoured the Monophysites, one cannot even say secretly; the various threads of the undertaking the object of which was to assist “the pious doctrine” to triumph, all met in her cabinet, and it appeared not impossible that the Emperor might in the end be got also to agree to the formal abandonment of the Chalcedonian Creed and consequently to a new actual henotikon. The appointment of Anthimus, a Monophysite in disguise, as patriarch of the Capital, and the admission of Severus to the Court, prepared the way for the final blow which was to be struck at the Chalcedonian Creed. But once more did the Roman bishop, who was informed of what was going on by Ephraem of Antioch, save orthodoxy. In the year 536 Agapetus appeared at the Court of the Emperor and succeeded in getting Anthimus removed from his post and excommunicated. A Council which was held under the presidency of the new patriarch Mennas at Constantinople in the year 536, after the death of Agapetus who died in the capital, and which has left behind an extensive collection of Acts, put an end to the Monophysitism which was making overtures in an underhand way, acknowledged anew the expression: “ἐν δύο φύσεσι”, “in two natures”, and deposed and anathematised Anthimus. It is important that the Council which followed in the track of the theology of Leontius and upon which Leontius himself had some influence, roundly declared through its leader that nothing whatever ought to be done in the Church contrary to the will and command of the Emperor, but at the same time also added the following: “We both follow and obey the apostolic throne (Rome) and we regard those in communion with it as in communion, and those condemned by it we also condemn”: ἡμεῖς τῷ ἀποστολικῷ θρόνῳ ἐξακολουθοῦμέν τε καὶ πειθόμεθα καὶ τοὺς κοινωνικοὺς αὐτοῦ κοινωνικοὺς ἔχομεν, καὶ τοὺς ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ κατακριθέντας καὶ ἡμεῖς κατακρίνομεν. The days when the names of Marcian and Leo were mentioned together, seemed to have returned. But the Pope at this time was no Leo, and Justinian was more than Marcian. Besides Anthimus, Severus, about whom the very worst calumnies were spread—that he was a in disguise—and the heads of the Monophysite party of conciliation, were condemned. Justinian confirmed this sentence by a decree (Aug. 536), while he threatened all adherents of the accused with exile and ordered the books of Severus as also those of Porphyry, to be burned. At the first glance it seems paradoxical that the Emperor, who was himself not without Monophysite leanings, was now so genuinely furious at Severus and accused him at once of Nestorianism and Eutychianism. But after what has been remarked above, (p. 241) the charge of Nestorianism is quite intelligible, and we can understand too the aversion felt by the Emperor who had himself an interest in dogma. A Monophysitism, such as that of Severus, which merely rejected the Chalcedonian Creed, but which, moreover, in combating Aphthartodoketism got the length of teaching in the most definite way the “division” of Christ, when once it was thoroughly understood, could be regarded only with antipathy by the Imperial theologian who had on the contrary always wished to have the Chalcedonian Creed and Aphthartodoketism. A Jerusalem Council repeated the decrees of the Council of Constantinople; but it was impossible to restore tranquillity in Egypt. The Severian Theodosius had to make way for the Julianist Gajanus as Patriarch, and the Patriarch sent by the Emperor so seriously compromised his patron that he had to be excommunicated.

In the measures he took the Emperor, however, never lost sight of his design which was to win over the Monophysites, and it is at this point that the humiliation of the Roman bishop begins, though he was himself undoubtedly mainly to blame. The theology of Antioch was still something highly objectionable in the eyes of all pious-minded persons. It seemed to be favoured by Leo’s doctrinal letter and in fact to be put in a place of honour, and yet a large section of the Eastern Orthodox were at one with all Monophysites in holding that the great Antiochians “would have betrayed the secret”. People hated it for the same reason that they hate the Liberals in the Church at the present day, and the Emperor certainly did not hate it least, not to speak of the Empress, the patroness of all pious monks. The Antiochians got the blame of “denying the divinity of Christ” and of dividing the one Christ into two. The influential bishop, Theodorus Askidas of Cæsarea in Cappadocia, is said to have advised the Emperor to make use of this widespread hatred in the interest of his ecclesiastical policy. This man, an enthusiastic pupil of Origen, had suffered seriously from the condemnation of the latter to which he had assented against his will, and in order to divert attention from Origen (Euagr. E. H. IV. 38) he got the Emperor persuaded to believe that a great many Monophysites could be won over if a blow was struck at the Antiochians. As a matter of fact what had given most serious offence to the Monophysites in connection with the Council of Chalcedon, was that it pronounced Ibas and Theodoret orthodox and was silent about Theodore. The Emperor, supported by Theodora, who had long ago established a Monophysite branch-regime which made its influence felt as far as Rome, issued, apparently in 543, an edict, in which the person and writings of Theodore, the Anti-Cyrillian writings of Theodoret, and the letter of Ibas to the Persian Maris, were condemned. This was the edict of the τρία κεφάλαια, the three points or chapters. The orthodox found themselves placed by it in a most painful position. It was a political move on the part of the Emperor forced on him by the circumstances in which he was placed, and a better one could not have been contrived. The faithful adherents of the Fourth Council had to face the alternative either of actually departing from orthodoxy by the rejection of heterodox doctrines—for it was evident that a revision of the Chalcedonian Creed was intended, which limited freedom in the interpretation of it—or of having to defend what was questionable by way of protecting doctrinal unity; for nobody could deny but that Theodore in particular had actually taught heterodox doctrine. At the same time a sort of question du fait was to be decided in addition. The question as to the views held by the Council regarding things which it had not discussed, was to be settled. The Emperor dictated what these views were. Distinctions were to be made between what the whole Council had approved of and what had been approved of merely by individual members; for example, in reference to the letter of Ibas. It was plain that all this was bound only to be to the advantage of the Monophysites. It might be easy to point out to the Western opponents of the imperial decree that they had been too sharp-sighted in hunting for traces of Monophysite leaven, but as regards the main point they were entirely in the right. The condemnation of the three chapters, so far as its tendency was concerned, involved a revision of the Chalcedonian Creed. But the Emperor was in the right too; for he corrected the conciliar-decree in accordance with the spirit of the Eastern Church, which had been repressed at Chalcedon itself. He destroyed the Western influence; he carried the Chalcedonian Creed back to Cyril; he restored the dogmatic thought of the two Councils of Ephesus, without meddling with the Creed of Chalcedon. All four patriarchs of the East took offence at the condemnation of the Three Chapters and all four signed it after a brief hesitation. Thus powerfully did the Emperor make his rule felt in the Church; there had been no such monarch since Constantius and Theodosius I. The patriarchs worked their bishops and they too all submitted, although they felt it difficult to consent to the condemnation of a bishop who a hundred years before this had died at peace with the Church. What, however, they did not feel, was the desolation created by this imperial measure. Origen was already condemned; the condemnation of the Antiochene theology now followed on his. It was now that the Church first fully provided itself with a falsified tradition, by shutting out its true Fathers as heretics under the patronage of Justinian. It is pretended that its theology had always been the same, and any one who at an earlier period had taught otherwise, was no Father and Shepherd, but an innovator, a robber and murderer. This Church tolerated no recollection of the fact that it had once allowed room within it for a greater variety of opinion. Justinian who closed the School of Athens, also closed the schools of Alexandria and Antioch! He is the Diocletian of theological science and the Constantine of scholasticism! In doing this he did not, however, impose anything on the Church; on the contrary he ascertained what were the true feelings of the majority, probably realised them himself, and by satisfying them made the Church obedient to the State; for the World-Church is to be feared only when provoked; when satisfied it will allow any kind of yoke to be imposed upon it.

The outbreak of the controversy of the Three Chapters which followed on this and its history, have an interest for the history of dogma merely owing to the fact that the North African bishops and, speaking generally, most of the Western bishops made such an energetic resistance to the condemnation of the Three Chapters. The conduct of the Africans and especially the work of Facundus “pro tribus capitulis”, are honourable pages in the history of the Punic Churches. On the other hand in the conduct of the Roman Bishop we have a tragedy, the hero of which was no hero, but on the contrary a rogue. Vigilius, the creature of Theodora, the intellectual murderer of his predecessor, the man who was Monophysite or Chalcedonian in accordance with orders, constantly changed his opinion in the course of the controversy, according as he considered compliance with feeling in the West or compliance with the commands of the Emperor, the more necessary. Twice over he was forced by the Emperor to appear before the tribunal of the Church as a liar when Justinian produced secret explanations of his which contradicted his public utterances. His conduct both before the great Council and after it was equally lamentable. The poorest of all the Popes was confronted with the most powerful of the Byzantine Emperors.

Justinian considered a great Council to be necessary although he himself, about the year 551, issued a second edict dealing with the affair of the Three Chapters. This edict which was framed by the Emperor himself who was always theologically inclined, contains in the most verbose form the strictly Cyrillian interpretation of the Chalcedonian decree. The Cyrillian formula of the “one nature” is approved of, attention being, however, directed to the fact that Cyril made no distinction between nature and hypostasis. Christ is one “composite hypostasis”—ὑπόστασις σύνθετος. The Antiochian theology is rejected in strong terms, the three chapters are condemned in this connection; but it is asserted that we must by the Chalcedonian Creed. In order to sanction this edict, the Fifth Ecumenical Council was opened at Constantinople in May 553, Vigilius protesting. The patriarch of the capital presided. The Acts have not come down to us in their original form; we have only part of them in a Latin translation. But we know from the proceedings of the Sixth Council that interpolations were put into the Acts in the 7th century (on the part of the Monothelites?) and that these interpolations were traced at the time by means of palæographic investigations, though the documents which had been foisted in were in no sense forgeries. The proceedings of the Council which consisted of about 150 members amongst whom there were very few Westerns, were unimportant; all it had to do was to throw the halo of the Church round the imperial edicts. It condemned Origen, as Justinian desired; it condemned the Three Chapters and consequently the Antiochian theology as Justinian desired; it sanctioned the theopaschitian formula as Justinian desired, and in its 14 long-winded anathemas it adopted the imperial edict of 551 as its own. But amongst those who thus said yes to everything, there were few who spoke contrary to their convictions. The Emperor was really the best dogmatist of his time and of his country—if it is the duty of the dogmatist to ascertain the opinions of the majority. While giving a position of exclusive authority to the interpretation of the Chalcedonian Creed on the lines of the theology of Cyril, he hit upon the sense in which it was understood by the Church of the East, i.e., by the majority in it. The importance of the dogmatic finding of 553 ought not to be underrated. In a certain sense the blow which the West gave to the East at the Fourth Council was parried by the Fifth Council—in the fashion in which this is done in general in matters of dogma. Rome had given the formula of the two natures to the East, but a hundred years later the East dictated to the West how this formula was to be understood, an interpretation of it which in no way corresponded to the actual wording of the formula. At first undoubtedly the decree of the Fifth Council called forth serious opposition in the West. But first Vigilius submitted, then five years later the African Church followed his example. Still the position of the successor of Vigilius, Pelagius I., was very seriously endangered in the West. The Churches of Upper Italy under the guidance of Milan and Aquileia renounced their allegiance to Rome. Never in antiquity was the apostolic chair in such a critical condition as at that time. Its occupant appeared to many in the West in the light of a State bishop at the beck of Constantinople and deprived of ecclesiastical freedom. The Lombard conquests set him free and rescued him from his position of dependence on Byzantium. Gregory I. having once more regained strength politically and his help being regarded as indispensable by those in Upper Italy who were threatened by the Arians and the pagans, again gained over the larger part of Upper Italy together with the Archbishop of Milan, though indeed it was at the price of a temporary disavowal of the Fifth Council. Another part stood aloof from Rome for a whole century. But in the West too at the same period there was a decay of all independent interest in theological questions; when it once more revived, the Church had the Fifth Council and the Cyrillian Dogmatics, The East had revenged itself.

And yet one may doubt if Justinian’s policy was the right one which in dogmaticis aimed at a mean between the Western and the Egypto-Syrian dogmatic. It stopped half-way. For the sake of the West and of the basis supplied by the Council of 451, the Emperor had adhered to the Chalcedonian Creed; for the sake of the Monophysites and of his own inclinations he decreed the Theopaschitian formula and the rejection of the Three Chapters. But in doing this he roused the West against the spirit of Constantinople and against the Byzantine State, at the very moment when he was making friendly overtures to it, and yet he did not gain over the Monophysites. He could not find the right dogmatic formula for the World-Empire which he created; what he did settle was the specific formula for the patriarchate of Constantinople and its immediate belongings. He, however, saw that himself; he wished to sanction Aphthartodoketism (564) which was in harmony with his own dogmatic views and which might perhaps win over the Monophysites. His policy was a logical one, and the Emperor set about carrying it out with his wonted energy, beginning as usual by deposing the patriarch of the capital. We cannot now say what would have happened; the opposition of the Bishops, led this time by the Patriarch of Antioch, Anastasius Sinaita, would perhaps have been overcome; but the Emperor died in November, 565, and his successor Justin II. did not continue this policy. Still, under Justin II. the attempts to gain over the Monophysites, by dragonnades and by friendly methods, did not cease. Even at that time the Imperial bishops were throughout kept from acceding to the extreme demands of the Monophysites by their desire to preserve communion with the West. The vacillation in the imperial policy, its partial success and partial failure, and the divisions among the Monophysites themselves, etc., belong to Church-History. The way was being prepared for renouncing entirely the authority of Byzantium—and here the political-national movement everywhere preceded the other,—and for the organisation in each case of a separate ecclesiastical constitution. These aims were not definitely accomplished till the seventh century, under entirely altered political conditions.