Gibbon's The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire
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Chapter XXIII: Reign Of Julian. -- Part IV.
The restoration of the Jewish temple was secretly connected with the
ruin of the Christian church. Julian still continued to maintain the
freedom of religious worship, without distinguishing whether this
universal toleration proceeded from his justice or his clemency. He
affected to pity the unhappy Christians, who were mistaken in the most
important object of their lives; but his pity was degraded by contempt,
his contempt was embittered by hatred; and the sentiments of Julian were
expressed in a style of sarcastic wit, which inflicts a deep and deadly
wound, whenever it issues from the mouth of a sovereign. As he was
sensible that the Christians gloried in the name of their Redeemer, he
countenanced, and perhaps enjoined, the use of the less honorable
appellation of Galilæans. He declared, that by the folly of the
Galilæans, whom he describes as a sect of fanatics, contemptible to men,
and odious to the gods, the empire had been reduced to the brink of
destruction; and he insinuates in a public edict, that a frantic patient
might sometimes be cured by salutary violence. An ungenerous distinction
was admitted into the mind and counsels of Julian, that, according to
the difference of their religious sentiments, one part of his subjects
deserved his favor and friendship, while the other was entitled only to
the common benefits that his justice could not refuse to an obedient
people. According to a principle, pregnant with mischief and oppression,
the emperor transferred to the pontiffs of his own religion the
management of the liberal allowances for the public revenue, which had
been granted to the church by the piety of Constantine and his sons. The
proud system of clerical honors and immunities, which had been
constructed with so much art and labor, was levelled to the ground; the
hopes of testamentary donations were intercepted by the rigor of the
laws; and the priests of the Christian sect were confounded with the
last and most ignominious class of the people. Such of these regulations
as appeared necessary to check the ambition and avarice of the
ecclesiastics, were soon afterwards imitated by the wisdom of an
orthodox prince. The peculiar distinctions which policy has bestowed, or
superstition has lavished, on the sacerdotal order, must be confined to
those priests who profess the religion of the state. But the will of the
legislator was not exempt from prejudice and passion; and it was the
object of the insidious policy of Julian, to deprive the Christians of
all the temporal honors and advantages which rendered them respectable
in the eyes of the world.
A just and severe censure has been inflicted on the law which prohibited
the Christians from teaching the arts of grammar and rhetoric. The
motives alleged by the emperor to justify this partial and oppressive
measure, might command, during his lifetime, the silence of slaves and
the applause of flatterers. Julian abuses the ambiguous meaning of a
word which might be indifferently applied to the language and the
religion of the Greeks: he contemptuously observes, that the men who
exalt the merit of implicit faith are unfit to claim or to enjoy the
advantages of science; and he vainly contends, that if they refuse to
adore the gods of Homer and Demosthenes, they ought to content
themselves with expounding Luke and Matthew in the church of the
Galilæans. In all the cities of the Roman world, the education of the
youth was intrusted to masters of grammar and rhetoric; who were elected
by the magistrates, maintained at the public expense, and distinguished
by many lucrative and honorable privileges. The edict of Julian appears
to have included the physicians, and professors of all the liberal arts;
and the emperor, who reserved to himself the approbation of the
candidates, was authorized by the laws to corrupt, or to punish, the
religious constancy of the most learned of the Christians. As soon as
the resignation of the more obstinate teachers had established the
unrivalled dominion of the Pagan sophists, Julian invited the rising
generation to resort with freedom to the public schools, in a just
confidence, that their tender minds would receive the impressions of
literature and idolatry. If the greatest part of the Christian youth
should be deterred by their own scruples, or by those of their parents,
from accepting this dangerous mode of instruction, they must, at the
same time, relinquish the benefits of a liberal education. Julian had
reason to expect that, in the space of a few years, the church would
relapse into its primæval simplicity, and that the theologians, who
possessed an adequate share of the learning and eloquence of the age,
would be succeeded by a generation of blind and ignorant fanatics,
incapable of defending the truth of their own principles, or of exposing
the various follies of Polytheism.
It was undoubtedly the wish and design of Julian to deprive the
Christians of the advantages of wealth, of knowledge, and of power; but
the injustice of excluding them from all offices of trust and profit
seems to have been the result of his general policy, rather than the
immediate consequence of any positive law. Superior merit might deserve
and obtain, some extraordinary exceptions; but the greater part of the
Christian officers were gradually removed from their employments in the
state, the army, and the provinces. The hopes of future candidates were
extinguished by the declared partiality of a prince, who maliciously
reminded them, that it was unlawful for a Christian to use the sword,
either of justice, or of war; and who studiously guarded the camp and
the tribunals with the ensigns of idolatry. The powers of government
were intrusted to the pagans, who professed an ardent zeal for the
religion of their ancestors; and as the choice of the emperor was often
directed by the rules of divination, the favorites whom he preferred as
the most agreeable to the gods, did not always obtain the approbation of
mankind. Under the administration of their enemies, the Christians had
much to suffer, and more to apprehend. The temper of Julian was averse
to cruelty; and the care of his reputation, which was exposed to the
eyes of the universe, restrained the philosophic monarch from violating
the laws of justice and toleration, which he himself had so recently
established. But the provincial ministers of his authority were placed
in a less conspicuous station. In the exercise of arbitrary power, they
consulted the wishes, rather than the commands, of their sovereign; and
ventured to exercise a secret and vexatious tyranny against the
sectaries, on whom they were not permitted to confer the honors of
martyrdom. The emperor, who dissembled as long as possible his knowledge
of the injustice that was exercised in his name, expressed his real
sense of the conduct of his officers, by gentle reproofs and substantial
rewards.
The most effectual instrument of oppression, with which they were armed,
was the law that obliged the Christians to make full and ample
satisfaction for the temples which they had destroyed under the
preceding reign. The zeal of the triumphant church had not always
expected the sanction of the public authority; and the bishops, who were
secure of impunity, had often marched at the head of their congregation,
to attack and demolish the fortresses of the prince of darkness. The
consecrated lands, which had increased the patrimony of the sovereign or
of the clergy, were clearly defined, and easily restored. But on these
lands, and on the ruins of Pagan superstition, the Christians had
frequently erected their own religious edifices: and as it was necessary
to remove the church before the temple could be rebuilt, the justice and
piety of the emperor were applauded by one party, while the other
deplored and execrated his sacrilegious violence. After the ground was
cleared, the restitution of those stately structures which had been
levelled with the dust, and of the precious ornaments which had been
converted to Christian uses, swelled into a very large account of
damages and debt. The authors of the injury had neither the ability nor
the inclination to discharge this accumulated demand: and the impartial
wisdom of a legislator would have been displayed in balancing the
adverse claims and complaints, by an equitable and temperate
arbitration. But the whole empire, and particularly the East, was thrown
into confusion by the rash edicts of Julian; and the Pagan magistrates,
inflamed by zeal and revenge, abused the rigorous privilege of the Roman
law, which substitutes, in the place of his inadequate property, the
person of the insolvent debtor. Under the preceding reign, Mark, bishop
of Arethusa, had labored in the conversion of his people with arms more
effectual than those of persuasion. The magistrates required the full
value of a temple which had been destroyed by his intolerant zeal: but
as they were satisfied of his poverty, they desired only to bend his
inflexible spirit to the promise of the slightest compensation. They
apprehended the aged prelate, they inhumanly scourged him, they tore his
beard; and his naked body, anointed with honey, was suspended, in a net,
between heaven and earth, and exposed to the stings of insects and the
rays of a Syrian sun. From this lofty station, Mark still persisted to
glory in his crime, and to insult the impotent rage of his persecutors.
He was at length rescued from their hands, and dismissed to enjoy the
honor of his divine triumph. The Arians celebrated the virtue of their
pious confessor; the Catholics ambitiously claimed his alliance; and the
Pagans, who might be susceptible of shame or remorse, were deterred from
the repetition of such unavailing cruelty. Julian spared his life: but
if the bishop of Arethusa had saved the infancy of Julian, posterity
will condemn the ingratitude, instead of praising the clemency, of the
emperor.
At the distance of five miles from Antioch, the Macedonian kings of
Syria had consecrated to Apollo one of the most elegant places of
devotion in the Pagan world. A magnificent temple rose in honor of the
god of light; and his colossal figure almost filled the capacious
sanctuary, which was enriched with gold and gems, and adorned by the
skill of the Grecian artists. The deity was represented in a bending
attitude, with a golden cup in his hand, pouring out a libation on the
earth; as if he supplicated the venerable mother to give to his arms the
cold and beauteous Daphne: for the spot was ennobled by fiction; and the
fancy of the Syrian poets had transported the amorous tale from the
banks of the Peneus to those of the Orontes. The ancient rites of Greece
were imitated by the royal colony of Antioch. A stream of prophecy,
which rivalled the truth and reputation of the Delphic oracle, flowed
from the Castalian fountain of Daphne. In the adjacent fields a stadium
was built by a special privilege, which had been purchased from Elis;
the Olympic games were celebrated at the expense of the city; and a
revenue of thirty thousand pounds sterling was annually applied to the
public pleasures. The perpetual resort of pilgrims and spectators
insensibly formed, in the neighborhood of the temple, the stately and
populous village of Daphne, which emulated the splendor, without
acquiring the title, of a provincial city. The temple and the village
were deeply bosomed in a thick grove of laurels and cypresses, which
reached as far as a circumference of ten miles, and formed in the most
sultry summers a cool and impenetrable shade. A thousand streams of the
purest water, issuing from every hill, preserved the verdure of the
earth, and the temperature of the air; the senses were gratified with
harmonious sounds and aromatic odors; and the peaceful grove was
consecrated to health and joy, to luxury and love. The vigorous youth
pursued, like Apollo, the object of his desires; and the blushing maid
was warned, by the fate of Daphne, to shun the folly of unseasonable
coyness. The soldier and the philosopher wisely avoided the temptation
of this sensual paradise: where pleasure, assuming the character of
religion, imperceptibly dissolved the firmness of manly virtue. But the
groves of Daphne continued for many ages to enjoy the veneration of
natives and strangers; the privileges of the holy ground were enlarged
by the munificence of succeeding emperors; and every generation added
new ornaments to the splendor of the temple.
When Julian, on the day of the annual festival, hastened to adore the
Apollo of Daphne, his devotion was raised to the highest pitch of
eagerness and impatience. His lively imagination anticipated the
grateful pomp of victims, of libations and of incense; a long procession
of youths and virgins, clothed in white robes, the symbol of their
innocence; and the tumultuous concourse of an innumerable people. But
the zeal of Antioch was diverted, since the reign of Christianity, into
a different channel. Instead of hecatombs of fat oxen sacrificed by the
tribes of a wealthy city to their tutelar deity the emperor complains
that he found only a single goose, provided at the expense of a priest,
the pale and solitary in habitant of this decayed temple. The altar was
deserted, the oracle had been reduced to silence, and the holy ground
was profaned by the introduction of Christian and funereal rites. After
Babylas (a bishop of Antioch, who died in prison in the persecution of
Decius) had rested near a century in his grave, his body, by the order
of Cæsar Gallus, was transported into the midst of the grove of Daphne.
A magnificent church was erected over his remains; a portion of the
sacred lands was usurped for the maintenance of the clergy, and for the
burial of the Christians at Antioch, who were ambitious of lying at the
feet of their bishop; and the priests of Apollo retired, with their
affrighted and indignant votaries. As soon as another revolution seemed
to restore the fortune of Paganism, the church of St. Babylas was
demolished, and new buildings were added to the mouldering edifice which
had been raised by the piety of Syrian kings. But the first and most
serious care of Julian was to deliver his oppressed deity from the
odious presence of the dead and living Christians, who had so
effectually suppressed the voice of fraud or enthusiasm. The scene of
infection was purified, according to the forms of ancient rituals; the
bodies were decently removed; and the ministers of the church were
permitted to convey the remains of St. Babylas to their former
habitation within the walls of Antioch. The modest behavior which might
have assuaged the jealousy of a hostile government was neglected, on
this occasion, by the zeal of the Christians. The lofty car, that
transported the relics of Babylas, was followed, and accompanied, and
received, by an innumerable multitude; who chanted, with thundering
acclamations, the Psalms of David the most expressive of their contempt
for idols and idolaters. The return of the saint was a triumph; and the
triumph was an insult on the religion of the emperor, who exerted his
pride to dissemble his resentment. During the night which terminated
this indiscreet procession, the temple of Daphne was in flames; the
statue of Apollo was consumed; and the walls of the edifice were left a
naked and awful monument of ruin. The Christians of Antioch asserted,
with religious confidence, that the powerful intercession of St. Babylas
had pointed the lightnings of heaven against the devoted roof: but as
Julian was reduced to the alternative of believing either a crime or a
miracle, he chose, without hesitation, without evidence, but with some
color of probability, to impute the fire of Daphne to the revenge of the
Galilæans. Their offence, had it been sufficiently proved, might have
justified the retaliation, which was immediately executed by the order
of Julian, of shutting the doors, and confiscating the wealth, of the
cathedral of Antioch. To discover the criminals who were guilty of the
tumult, of the fire, or of secreting the riches of the church, several
of the ecclesiastics were tortured; and a Presbyter, of the name of
Theodoret, was beheaded by the sentence of the Count of the East. But
this hasty act was blamed by the emperor; who lamented, with real or
affected concern, that the imprudent zeal of his ministers would tarnish
his reign with the disgrace of persecution.
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