The Walls of Constantinople

by B. Granville Baker

THE Golden Gate was from time to time thrown open for other purposes than to admit a conqueror. Persons of note who sought audience of the Emperor have passed in through it, and their mission was in the service of another victor, they came in the name of Him who overcame Death. Among these was Pope Constantine, who came to confer with that Justinian II whose acquaintance we made some chapters back. Another Emperor whose history is familiar to our travellers, Basil II, admitted the Legate of Pope Hadrian into the city underneath the same portals.

And yet another solemn procession moves in at the Gates while we watch. No blare of trumpet, no martial sound of clashing arms, no steady, resolute footsteps, scurry of horses or the grinding noise of chariot wheels marks the progress of this host of shadows. It moves slowly, to the rhythm of a solemn chant that rises into a more rapturous cadence from time to time; moves through the crowds of kneeling figures with bared heads and eyes lowered to the ground that they may not see the glory of that which is passing, for is it not the sacred Icon, the Icon of Christ brought from Edessa to find Sanctuary in the Church of St. Sophia?

Christianity owes much to the personality of the first Eastern Emperors to Constantine, the first Augustus to be baptized into that faith, and again to Theodosius I, the ardent champion of the Cross.

Until the reign of this great Emperor the ancient faith of Rome still lived on, both in that city and in the provinces. An altar to victory accompanied the Roman legions in the field, the higher officers of State in many cases laid claim to the title of pontifex and presided over the old religious rites while the majority of the Roman Senate still adhered to the polytheistic tenets of the old faith. The Emperor Gratian, fired by the zeal of Ambrose, banished once and for all the Altar of Victory from the Roman Senate. This led to a heated controversy, which was decided by Theodosius. Returning to Rome “with all his blushing honours thick upon him,” the Emperor proposed at a full meeting of the Senate the momentous question: Shall the worship of Jupiter or that of Christ be the religion of the Romans?

In the Roman republic of those days it was not expedient to gainsay a victorious Emperor, so by a majority of the Senate Jupiter was condemned and degraded. Thus when we witnessed the triumphal entry of Theodosius the Great into Constantinople by the Golden Gate, the gods of ancient Rome, unseen by us, were fastened to his chariot wheels.

Theodosius was first of all a soldier, and though born of Christian parents he did not embrace the Faith until towards the end of the first year of his reign, when a severe illness carried conviction to the Imperial heart. He received the sacrament of baptism before he again took the field against the Goths, at the hands of Acholius, the Orthodox Bishop of Thessalonica.

Once convinced of the beauty of the Faith, and sure of the unfailing aid the Church affords, Theodosius acted as a soldier and a convert usually does. No room for the doubts and fears of others, he had found the sure haven of his soul, and all his people must needs be categorically instructed in the right way. On ascending from the holy font he issued an edict which must be given word for word. “It is our pleasure that all the nations which are governed by our clemency and moderation should steadfastly adhere to the religion which was taught by St. Peter to the Romans, which faithful tradition has preserved; and which is now professed by the Pontiff Damarcus and by Peter, Bishop of Alexandria, a man of apostolic holiness. According to the discipline of the Apostles and the Doctrine of the Gospel, let us believe the sole Deity of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, under an equal Majesty and a pious Trinity. We authorize the followers of this doctrine to assume the title of Catholic Christians, and as we judge that all others are extravagant madmen, we brand them with the infamous name of Heretics, and declare that their conventicles shall no longer usurp the respectable appellation of Churches. Besides the condemnation of Divine Justice, they must expect to suffer the severe penalties, which our authority, guided by heavenly wisdom, shall think proper to inflict upon them.” So we find little room in Byzantium for the Nonconformist conscience, or, indeed, for any other save that of the ruler himself.

Like a soldier Theodosius adhered to his opinions, and all argument from other sides failed to impress him. Once only was he found to show the slightest inclination to listen to another version of the Christian creed. He expressed a wish to converse with the pious and learned Eunomius, who lived a retired life near Constantinople. The prayers of the Empress Flaccilla prevented this dangerous and mistaken attempt even to understand the position of others, and further confirmation in his orthodoxy came about in a dramatic manner.

Theodosius and his son Arcadius, upon whom the title of Augustus had lately been bestowed, were seated side by side upon a stately throne to receive the homage of their subjects. Amphilochius, Bishop of Iconium, approached the throne and rendered due homage to Theodosius. He then turned and addressed Arcadius in the patronizing tones some dignitaries of the Church still use towards plebeian children. This insolent behaviour provoked the monarch, and he gave orders to eject the priest. While the guards were executing them, the Bishop turned in the doorway and exclaimed in a loud voice, “Such is the treatment, O Emperor! which the King of Heaven has prepared for those impious men who affect to worship the Father but refuse to acknowledge the equal majesty of His Divine Son.” This convincing logic failed not of its effect, the orthodoxy of Theodosius was safe against all further argument, and in no other case was he tempted into the uncertain and unsettling paths of philosophical speculation.

In matters religious Constantinople may perhaps be said to lead the controversial way. It was for forty years, from 340 to 380, the centre of Arianism, and is said to have admitted all manner of strange doctrines from every province of the Empire—as was to be expected among a population more prone to disputations than to serious thought or that activity which takes religion as a staff to guide its daily task and not as a subject for polemic exercise.