ST. GREGORY II.

715-731

 

EMPERORS. Anastasius II, 713-715. Theodosius III, 715-716. Leo III, 716I-741.

King. Liutprand, 712-744

Exarchs. Scholasticus, 713-726. Paul, 726-727.  Eutychius, 727-752; apparently the last of the exarchs.

 

Under any circumstances the life of Gregory II is beset with difficulties. But to the Christian historian, who approaches it with a wish to be impartial, the biography of that Pontiff presents exceptional difficulties. The principles—from whatever source drawn, from education, natural temperament, and the rest—which he brings to the examination of the ‘Image-breaking’ (Iconoclast) heresy, and of the ‘temporal power of the popes’, are naturally calculated to make him draw conclusions about the conduct of St. Gregory in accordance with those principles. The historian with rationalistic or Puritan leanings will, of course, look askance at the great defender of ‘image-worship’. The opponent of government by clerics will decry the great Pontiff under whom the temporal rule of the popes may be said to have fairly begun.

The difficulties, however, that meet the biographer of Gregory II, in any case, are caused by the unsatisfactory nature of some of the records of his time that have come down to us. We can gather from them little or nothing of the motives that actuated the chief figures on the world’s stage in those times; e.g., why Leo, after a reign of ten years, began to persecute the worshippers of images. There is also a lamentable want of reliable dates in the period under consideration, and there is much controversy as to the genuineness of some of its most important documents, e.g., the two famous letters of the Pope to the emperor. The Greek historians are so badly informed on Western affairs as to confuse the two Gregorys; the Latins relate events which seem scarcely to be consistent. All this, of course, tells strongly in favor of the prejudiced writer. He can arrange his facts to suit his theories with less fear of contradiction. And as the pontificate of Gregory II is very important, this is the more unfortunate. Under the circumstances, then, all that can be done for the benefit of the reader is to make every effort to lay before him the sequence of events in the plainest terms, so that he can judge for himself of the merits of the personages that will be brought under his notice.

At the outset it is interesting to call attention to the resemblance between the histories of the first two Gregorys. Both reigned for about the same number of years, were reigning in the beginning of their respective centuries. Both of noble families, they turned their parental mansions into monasteries, and both acted as secretaries of the popes, their immediate predecessors. Both, in their struggles with the Lombards, subdued them at last by their personal influence, and both were prepared for their dealings with the emperors of Byzantium by a personal knowledge of the Eastern court. If, in the history of the conversion of nations, the name of St. Augustine and England is inseparably linked with that of the first Gregory, the second Gregory is just as closely allied with St. Boniface and Germany. And finally, from the extracts of his registers, which have come down to us, it would appear that the second Gregory might also, like the first, be set down as a careful administrator of the patrimony of St. Peter.

To proceed to the details of Gregory’s life. He was, again like his great namesake, a Roman, the son of Marcellus and Honesta. It was after her death that Gregory, then Pope, transformed the ancestral mansion into a monastery in honor of St. Agatha, in Suburra, endowed it and enriched it with many precious vessels for the service of the altar. When very young, he was placed under the care of the popes, and was by Pope Sergius made subdeacon and treasurer of the Roman See. He was then entrusted with the care of the papal library, and made deacon. In the Life of Constantine we saw the part he played, in the latter capacity, in the affair of the Quinisext canons with Justinian II.

He was a man of pure life, eloquent and firm, had a good knowledge of the sacred Scriptures, and ever showed himself a stout upholder of the rights of the Church and a formidable foe to his opponents. Such was the man who was consecrated bishop of Rome, May, 19,715.

Whether or not because he could see that the Lombards, after their long period of rest, were about to make another effort to bring all the Italian peninsula under their yoke, or because he felt that danger from the Saracens was imminent, Gregory, in the very first year of his pontificate, commenced to repair the walls of Rome, beginning at the gate of St. Lawrence. But various circumstances (among others, probably, an unusual rising of the Tiber, about October 716, which did great damage in Rome, lasting for eight days, and which only subsided after many Litanies had been said by the order of the Pope) prevented Gregory from completing their entire restoration. The last days of a state have come when it has to depend for its existence on stone walls! Well was it for Rome in the eighth century that it had in the person of its bishops a defence stronger than barred gate or turret!

In connection with the overflow of the Tiber just mentioned, Duchesne has a very useful topographical note, which we cannot do better than translate. After observing that this is the first time that an inundation caused by the Tiber is described by any of the papal biographers, he calls attention to the fact that, whenever an overflow of the Tiber is chronicled by later writers in the Liber Pontificalis, it is always in the same words as those used in this life of Gregory II. Nor is there any objection to this, as the phenomenon always repeats itself in the same way. Striking against the north wall of the city, the river rushed in by the only opening on that side, viz., the Flaminian Gate. Unable, as it swept along, to effect an entrance by the openings which lead to the Pons Aelius (St. Angelo) and the Pons Aurelius (Ponte Sisto), owing to their height above the river, it nevertheless managed to force its way through the postern gates and up the water-courses and other smaller openings. Thence it spread over the Campus Martius. Along the Via Lata it rushed to the foot of the Capitol and to the basilica of St. Mark. Here it had to make a bend; and here it was that the water seems to have attained its maximum height, and here was the height of the inundation measured. On the left bank of the river the flood covered the Neronian fields from the porta Sti. Petri, near the castle of St. Angelo, to the Milvian Bridge (Ponte Molle). In the other direction, viz., towards St. Peter’s, the flood stopped at a place called Remissa, which is spoken of in the first Ordo Romanus of Mabillon as a place where the cortege of the Pope halted for a moment on its way to St. Peter’s on Easter Monday. As, in the twelfth century, this halt, we know, was made in front of the steps which led to the atrium of the basilica (before the church of St. Maria of the Virgarii), i.e., where now stands the obelisk, it may be argued that there was the remissa of the eighth and ninth centuries.

In this same year (715) also, Gregory received a profession of faith (a synodical letter) from the ‘prudent’ John, patriarch of Constantinople, whom we have seen truckling to the Monothelite emperor Philippicus. This lengthy letter, of which mention has already been made, and which had been directed to Constantine, John styled an apology, inasmuch as it was largely taken up with specious efforts to palliate his weakness. He had to yield somewhat, he urged, to the character of the man (viz., the emperor). After a tedious and confused endeavor to clear himself as far as possible, John concluded by assuring the Pope, ‘God-inspired’, as he called him, that he is now, on the one hand, in possession of his defence, and, on the other, of his profession of the orthodox faith. And he earnestly begs the Pope not to be severe with him, as he had acted under constraint.

In the eighth century, then, the Pope of Rome, even to the patriarchs of Constantinople, was the sacred head of the church, whose office it was to direct and govern all the other members of the church without exception, just as, in the human frame, the power of controlling the other parts of the body proceeds from the head. This document, so interesting in many ways, may be read in Labbe, or in any of the great editions of the councils. It was one of the documents the deacon Agatho thought fit to append to the acts of the Sixth General Council, at which he had been present. Gregory sent his profession in return. John probably did not live to receive it. For on the 11th of August, Germanus, who had been bishop of Cyzicus, was transferred to the vacant patriarchal See of Constantinople, and was installed in the presence, among others, of “the most holy priest Michael, apocrisiarius of the Apostolic See”. He was soon, by his heroism in resisting the tyranny of the Iconoclast Leo, to atone for his weakness under the Monothelite Philippicus.

The number of Anglo-Saxon pilgrims to Rome, which throughout the whole of the seventh and eighth centuries was large, was particularly great during the life of Gregory II. “At this time many of the Angles, noble and simple, men and women, soldiers and private persons, moved by the instinct of divine love, were wont to repair from Britain to Rome”. The two most illustrious names among the English pilgrims of this period were those of Abbot Ceolfrid and King Ina. Ceolfrid had been the specially beloved disciple of the great abbot Benedict Biscop, had accompanied Benedict in his journeys to Rome in search of books and treasures of all kinds, had been appointed by him abbot of the monastery of St. Paul, on the north bank of the Wear, and, after the death of Benedict, had presided over the twin monasteries of SS. Peter and Paul for twenty-eight years. Being then very old, he decided to revisit Rome, “where he had been in his youth with Benedict, to the end that, before his death, he might have some relaxation for a while from the cares of the world” ; and that his brethren might have the benefit of a younger and more energetic abbot. In tears the monks heard of the determination of their beloved abbot. And as nothing could shake the resolve of the aged man, they elected Huethbert as his successor. In the whole range of monastic history—one is almost tempted to say in the whole range of general history—there is nothing more touching than the narrative of the resignation, departure for Rome, and death of the abbot Ceolfrid, whether it be read in the simple original of Venerable Bede, or in the glowing pages of the historian of the Monks of the West. Ceolfrid took with him to Rome a complete copy of the Bible as a gift to the Church of St. Peter, and a letter from the new abbot “to the apostolic Pope Gregory”, which began as follows : “To the thrice-blessed Pope Gregory, his most beloved lord in the Lord of lords, Huethbert, your most humble servant ... wishes eternal health in the Lord. I, together with the brethren, who desire in these places to find rest for their souls by carrying the easy yoke of Christ, cease not to render thanks to the providence of the heavenly judge, that he has thought fit to appoint you, who are such a glorious vessel of election, to be the ruler of the Church Universal in our times; and by means of the light of truth and faith with which you are filled, to disperse the beams of his love among your inferiors”. He proceeds to recommend to the Pope’s care the venerable grey hairs of their dear Ceolfrid. Such was the language of English churchmen of the eighth century to the Vicar of Christ. Ceolfrid was not destined again to see at Rome “the shrines which it was to him a cause of unceasing joy to remember and repeat that he had seen and adored in his youth”.  He died at Langres, September 25, 716.

Ina, the great and powerful king of Wessex, was more fortunate in accomplishing his pilgrimage. After a glorious reign of thirty-seven years, he went to Rome (725 or 726), “being desirous to spend some time of his pilgrimage upon earth in the neighborhood of holy places, that he might be more easily received by the saints into heaven”. According to Malmesbury, Ina passed his time in Rome in retirement and in obscurity, clad in the garb of an ordinary citizen, in order that he might not be seen of men. Later writers, however, will have it that he spent part of his time in Rome in founding “the school of the English”. Matthew Paris, who flourished in the first half of the thirteenth century, tells us “that Ina built a house in the city with the consent and goodwill of Pope Gregory, which he called the school of the English, to which the kings of England, the royal family, and the clergy might come to be instructed in the Catholic faith, that nothing false or contrary to the Catholic faith might be taught in the Church in England”. In this narrative of Paris there is nothing intrinsically improbable; nay, considering we find a schola (colony) of the English certainly established in Rome in the days of Leo III it should be even called probably true. But the distance of time that separates Ina and the monk makes the statements of the latter about the early history of our country proportionately open to suspicion.

King Ina was not the only royal personage whom authentic documents enable us to see in Rome in the days of Pope Gregory. Before the end of the sixth century there seem to have been Christian dukes in Bavaria, but it was only during the seventh century apparently that Christianity was to any considerable extent propagated among the Bavarians. Its true apostle, St. Emmeran, had been slain in the middle of that century; and in the beginning of the eighth century its Duke Theodo, called II by some and I by others, came to Rome, the first of his race, to pray. He doubtless also came to arrange with Gregory about taking further measures for the complete conversion of his country. For in the May of this same year (716) Gregory addressed a series of instructions to Bishop Martinian, and to Gregory and Dorotheus, deacon and subdeacon of the Apostolic See, when setting out for Bavaria. He bade them, in conjunction with the duke, establish ecclesiastical discipline; and, after careful instruction of the candidates, to constitute a hierarchy. If, however, they cannot find a proper person to set over the new episcopate as archbishop, they are to send word to him (Gregory), and he will send a suitable one. He gave minute directions as to what they were to teach concerning marriage, a matter undoubtedly of as much importance in civilizing and Christianizing a wild and pagan people as in preserving a civilization already acquired. The man who tampers with the sacred truths in connection with marriage is aiming destructive blows at the very keystone of civilization. As very important points to be attended to in the conversion of idolaters, the Pope exhorted the missionaries to warn the people against the observance of dreams, and of lucky and unlucky days, and against incantations and witchcraft. The necessity of personal penance for sin, the resurrection of the body and the eternity of hell, were also among the striking truths that the Pope would have impressed on the minds of the heathen Bavarians.

To revert for a moment to Theodo, the convert of St. Rupert. He seems to have died (716 or 717) soon after his visit to Rome, before the death of his spiritual father, and before the return to Bavaria of the saint now to be spoken of.

To help to hasten on the conversion of Bavaria, Gregory induced St. Corbinian, a Frank, like most of the other missionaries who converted the Bavarians, whom his predecessor had ordained bishop, not to retire from the world, as the worthy bishop wished to do, but to return and continue his labors in the Lord’s vineyard. The chronology of the life of St. Corbinian is a little obscure, owing to a mistake of his biographer Aribo, his third successor (764-784) in the See of Freisingen, who has either confused Pepin of Heristal with Charles Martel or Constantine with Gregory II.

If, however, with the Bollandists we suppose that Aribo, who as a boy may have seen Corbinian, by an easy lapse of memory assigned the two visits of the saint to Rome to the reign of the same Pope (Gregory II), the narrative of Aribo will be consistent, not only with itself but with other historical data. Though a man of strong feeling, not to say temper—indeed, no doubt on that very account —it is plain that Corbinian exerted a great influence on all with whom he came into contact. Wherever he went he soon became very popular, and was everywhere sought after. Fearing that his popularity would prove a snare to his virtue, he left his native place (near Melun, not far from Paris), and went to Rome with a number of disciples, not only to seek the Pope’s instruction and prayers, but also that he might obtain a quiet spot, where, away from the praise and flattery of men, he could live under monastic rule. This was probably in 709, when Constantine was Pope. But it was not difficult to conclude that a man with such spirit as Corbinian, and with such a winning personality, was a proper subject for the performance of great things. Constantine would not allow him to hide his light under a bushel. He consecrated him bishop, and gave him the pallium, which, though usually the sign of archiepiscopal jurisdiction, was, as we have seen, occasionally bestowed on bishops. To Frankland accordingly Corbinian returned, to work with the power of a successor of the apostles. Again was the homage of men at his feet, and again did he seek to shun its dangerous allurements by retiring to a cell. His retreat was discovered, and once more did men flock around him; and once more had he recourse to Rome, hoping that what one Pope had refused another might grant. No doubt to avoid embarrassing recognition, he did not go through Gaul but through Germany. Whilst he was journeying through Bavaria (717), it in some way came to the ears of Theodo, who had by that time returned from Rome, that the saintly Corbinian was on his way to the Eternal City. He invited him to come to him. Especially eager was the duke’s son, Grimwald, that he should abide with them. But to escape from the turmoil of the world was the deep desire of Corbinian. He continued his journey to Rome “to obtain his release”—solutionem percipere.

Gregory II, however, proved no more amenable than his predecessor. Still, with a view of making a deeper impression on the saint, he examined the affair in a synod. All were of opinion that he should return to the Lord’s vineyard. Not to be disobedient, Corbinian submitted, and again turned his face towards the North. He was not destined to reach the land of the Franks. Grimwald had resolved that if the saint had to return to the world, he should remain to labor in Bavaria. This, perforce, Corbinian had to do. Grimwald, however, had soon reason to regret his pious violence. He had married his brother’s widow, the beautiful Piltrudis. Corbinian, who had now fixed his See at Freisingen in Upper Bavaria, denounced the marriage; and after a long struggle succeeded in bringing about a separation between the pair. But Piltrudis returned to Grimwald and to influence. Corbinian was banished. The misdeeds of the guilty couple were destined to be punished even in this life. To ensure a more real dependence of the Bavarians on the Frankish kingdom, Charles Martel invaded Bavaria both in 725 and 729. Grimwald lost his life (725 or 729) and Piltrudis her liberty. She was carried into Frankland by Charles, and seems to have died in poverty. The Bavarian dukedom passed to Hucbert, Grimwald’s nephew. He recalled Corbinian, who died working for the conversion of the Bavarians, probably in 730.

But the one who firmly established the faith in Bavaria, as in the whole of Germany, was St. Boniface, or Winfrid, which was his proper name. This glorious apostle of Germany was one of our own countrymen, having been born at Crediton, in Devonshire, about 680. This is not the place to treat at length of the heroic labors of St. Boniface for the conversion of the Germans. We must be content to unfold his relations with the popes.

Fired with zeal for the conversion of nations, who had become a monk, betook himself to Rome (718); and, as the abbess of Minster expressed it to Boniface himself, God “moved the pontiff of the glorious See to grant the desire of your heart”. With all the ardor of his soul, Winfrid poured forth to the Pope the cause of his coming to him, and told him with what a longing desire he had wished to preach the Gospel to the heathens. Delighted with the saint’s vivacity, the Pope could not forbear to smile at the earnestness of the zealous Englishman at his feet; but to be sure that the zeal came from true virtue, and was according to order, Gregory asked him if he had commendatory letters from his bishop. At the word the letters were at once produced. From them, the idea which Gregory had conceived of Boniface was confirmed, and daily conferences were held between them. At length (May 15, 719), with the Pope’s blessing and with letters from him, Boniface was “sent to the wild nations of Germany to see whether the rude soil of their hearts, when tilled by the ploughshare of the Gospel, would receive the seed of truth”. In the letter of authorization to preach in Germany, which Gregory addressed to Boniface, the Pope approves of his desire, as well on account of his earnest zeal and knowledge of the Holy Scriptures as because he had proceeded in the proper order, viz., as a member of a body, and had put himself in communication with the head. “And so”, continues the Pope, “in the name of the undivided Trinity, and by the irrefragable authority of Blessed Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, whose place we hold, go forth and preach to the nations in the bonds of error the truths of both testaments”.

Before the coming of St. Boniface, Christianity, as we have seen, had been preached in Germany, but in a more or less desultory kind of way. Owing, however, to the isolation and smallness of the Christian communities, little advancement was being made. In fact, in many instances, they were themselves eaten up with errors and superstitions. After having purified its various parts, Boniface put the Church in Germany on a firm basis, by welding the different communities together and joining them with the center of Christian life, the See of Rome. Justly did he earn for himself the admiration of the Christian Europe of his day, the everlasting gratitude of the German people from that time forth, the title of Apostle of Germany, and the martyr’s crown!

Boniface, following out the papal instructions, began his labors in Thuringia. There, and in Hesse and Saxony, he labored unremittingly in restoring discipline and in purifying and spreading the faith. After many thousand pagans had embraced the doctrines of Christ, Boniface sent (722) one Bynnan to Rome to tell the Pope what had been done, and to ask a variety of questions as to the direction of the infant Church. The Pope replied by summoning Boniface to Rome. In company with a number of his brethren, Boniface at once set out for Rome in the autumn of 722. From Willibald we learn that the sight of the Eternal City deeply moved him, as it must move every true Christian. “As soon, as he caught sight of the walls of Rome, he poured forth praise to God; and when he reached St. Peter’s he armed himself with prayer”. The Pope met the saint in St. Peter’s; and, after mutual greetings, at once proceeded to question him with regard to the faith he had been teaching. Perhaps some wicked persons, from jealousy or other motives, had been casting aspersions on the doctrinal preaching of Boniface. “Apostolic father”, answered Boniface, “as a foreigner I find it hard to understand your speech; give me but time, and I will set forth my faith in writing”. Readily, of course, was the delay granted. It is interesting to observe from this passage that the pure Latinity affected by St. Gregory the Great had in a hundred years so changed in the mouth of his illustrious namesake, that to a stranger it was not easy to follow its altered form. Some days after his profession of faith had been handed in to the Pope, Boniface, called to the Lateran, received it back from Gregory, with an exhortation ever to stand by it himself, and with all his strength to preach it to others. Then on November 30, 722, Gregory consecrated Boniface bishop. In accordance with the general custom of the bishops ordained at Rome, Boniface, with his own hand, wrote out a profession of faith, which he swore to follow, and placed it on the tomb of St. Peter. The oath which Boniface took was much the same as that taken by the bishops of Italy, and had been in use as far back as the pontificate of Gelasius I (492-496). It is given  towards the beginning of Otholo’s life of our saint, and runs as follows: “In the name of Our Lord God and Saviour Jesus Christ, in the sixth year after the consulship of the emperor Leo, and in the fourth year of the emperor Constantine his son, in the sixth Indiction :—

“I, Boniface, by the grace of God, bishop, promise to thee, Blessed Peter, Prince of the Apostles, and to thy Vicar, the Blessed Pope Gregory and his successors, by the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, undivided Trinity, and by thy most holy body, to proclaim the whole Catholic faith in all its purity; and by the help of God, to remain steadfast in the unity of that faith, in which, without doubt, is the Christian's hope of salvation. Never, at the bidding of anyone, will I do anything against the unity of the One Universal Church; but, as I have said, I will in all things be faithful and helpful to thee and to the interests of thy Church (to which God has given the power of binding and loosing), and thy said Vicar and his successors.

“Moreover, I will hold no communion with any bishops who may contemn the canons, but, if I can, will prevent them from so doing; and, if I cannot, will denounce them to the Holy See.

“And if, which God forbid, I should at any time or in any way act against this oath of mine, may I be found guilty at the last judgment and incur the penalty of Ananias and Saphira, who dared to speak a lie to you.

“This oath, I, Boniface, a lowly bishop, have written out with my own hand; and, according to what is prescribed, have placed it on the most holy body of Blessed Peter, and, in the sight of God, have sworn to keep it”.

Gregory did not detain Boniface in Rome long after his consecration (November 30, 622), but sent him back again to the field of his toils with a book of the canons, a letter of recommendation to Charles Martel; a synodal letter—so called because read at the synod held for the installation of the new bishop—addressed to the clergy and people; a letter to all the clergy, the glorious Dukes, the magnificent Castellans, Counts, and to all God-fearing Christians; and two others to the Thuringians and to the Alt or Old Saxons in particular.

The powerful Mayor of the palace received our saint with the greatest reverence (723); took him under his protection; and in a letter, in which he styles himself ‘illustrious’ and ‘Majordomo’, and which he addressed to his “Lords and Fathers in Christ the Bishops, to Dukes, Counts, Vicars, Domestics, Stewards, to his Juniors, to the (royal) Missi and to his friends”, Charles informs them all that Boniface has been placed under his “Mundbyrd”,  that is, under his special protection. With the strength of Charles Martel to help him, Boniface resumed his labors in Hesse and Thuringia; and, as it were by magic, churches, monasteries and episcopal Sees sprang up in all directions.

Informed by the letters of Boniface of what was being effected in Germany in the way of conversion by his exertions, Gregory wrote to congratulate him on his success (December 4, 724); but, to keep him humble, did not fail to remind him that it was God who gives the increase, and that he must persevere in the good he was doing if he hoped to gain the immortal crown of victory. But Gregory did not content himself with a mere verbal interest in the work of Boniface. He showed his practical concern in the endeavors of our saint, not merely by writing to the Thuringians to urge them to renounce their idolatry and to receive Boniface, whom “we have sent to you to baptize you .... not for any temporal gain, but for the good of your souls”; but also by trying to procure the active interference of Charles Martel in his favor. A certain bishop, anxious to reap where he had not sown, claimed part of the newly-converted province as belonging to his diocese. Concerning this bishop, writes Gregory to Boniface, “we have written paternal letters to our most excellent son and patrician Charles, begging him to restrain the said bishop, and we have little doubt that the matter will be attended to”.

The last communication that the Pope had with Boniface was towards the close of 726. Boniface had sent to ask the Pope for solutions to various difficulties that had sprung up in the course of his administering the young Church, just as St. Augustine consulted St. Gregory I. To these questions Gregory returned (Nov­ember 22, 726) suitable answers, “not from us as of ourselves, but by the grace of Him who opens the mouth of the dumb and makes the tongues of infants eloquent”. Some of the questions related to marriage, others to the question of re-baptism, and others to contagious diseases. The replies of the Pope were in accordance with canon law or sound practical sense, as the case might be. His letter concludes with the prayer that “He who, by apostolic authority, has caused you to go into those countries in our stead, may help you to obtain the reward of your labors and us to get the pardon of our sins”. The rest of the career of St. Boniface, his reception of the pallium, his third journey to Rome, his reforms in Gaul, and his martyrdom (June 5, 755), belong to the times of St. Gregory III, Zachary and Stephen III, and will be treated of in the lives of those popes.

Before proceeding with the most important events of Gregory’s reign, viz., his relations with the Lombards and the Iconoclast emperors, relations, it may be observed, very much interconnected, the remaining minor events of his pontificate may be conveniently noticed here.

From the lists of church repairs and decorations ordered by Gregory, left us by his biographer, we may safely conclude he was a lover of the glory of God’s House. A still extant inscription between the doors which lead from the vestibule Into the interior of St. Peter’s records the donation by Gregory of certain lands and olive groves to SS. Peter and Paul, to provide the lamps of the basilica with oil—pro concinnatione luminariorum vestrorum, as it was expressed. He founded monasteries round the great basilica of St. Paul, outside the walls, that there might be monks to recite therein the Divine Office by day and by night. His action with regard to his ancestral mansion, and his founding or restoring various other monasteries, show him also as a lover of the monastic order. Among the monasteries restored by Gregory II was the famous monastery on Monte Cassino, one of the highest hills in its neighborhood, and which overlooks the city of San Germano. About the year 580 the original abbey had been destroyed by the Lombards. The monks had fled to Rome, where, under Pope Pelagius II, they had founded the Lateran monastery. Sometime about the year 717, as is generally supposed, a citizen of Brescia, one Petronax, “full of the fire of divine love”, came to Rome; and, at the exhortation of Pope Gregory, betook himself to Monte Cassino, and became the second founder of the glorious abbey of that name. He was helped in his work as well by some hermits, whom he found on the mountain, as by some monks of the Lateran congregation, assigned to him by the Pope. With Petronax, therefore, Gregory shares the honor of being the second of the four founders of the world-renowned monastery of Monte Cassino.

Among the great monasteries of Italy which were rebuilt or founded during the eighth century was the famous one of St. Vincent’s on the river Volturno. It was founded by three young noblemen of Benevento during the reign of Gregory, and was first governed by its three founders in succession. On the death of the first abbot (720), the second of the three noblemen, Taso by name, a cousin of the first, was chosen abbot. The choice was in some respects unfortunate, as the zeal and sanctity of Taso were wanting in discretion, probably on account of his youth, as he was the youngest of the three. He would have placed upon the monks burdens greater than they could bear. The consequence was that Taso was deposed, and his elder brother Tato was elected abbot in his stead. An appeal to Rome was the consequence. Gregory, of course, condemned the conduct of the rebellious monks, and inflicted a severe penance upon them—apparently some hard manual labor. For we are told that the heat rendered the penance very difficult of accomplishment. Autpert (d.778), a monk, and afterwards abbot of this same monastery, who tells us this incident, adds that God also punished the disobedient monks. They soon all died, and were shortly afterwards followed to the grave by the abbot himself. Autpert tells us that he wrote down this sequel to the affair, that “for the future both shepherd and flock might refrain from such disturbing conduct”.

A very curious story is to be found in the Liber Pontificalis in connection with the Saracens in Spain, which serves at least to show that Gregory was watching with an anxious eye over the temporal as well as the spiritual welfare of his flock, and that consequently he was doing all he could to encourage the leaders of the Franks in their efforts against the Moslems, who for the second time had just besieged Constantinople itself. In the year 711 the Mohammedans poured into Spain, and in ten years not only overthrew the Visigothic kingdom in what is now called Spain, but were contesting (721) that part of it which had once extended over southern France. Unfortunately, whether in ancient or modern authors it is not easy to determine the exact order of events in this invasion of the Moslem. However, it seems clear that beneath the walls of Toulouse, Eudo, Duke of Aquitaine, gained a victory over them (721) by his own unaided efforts, eleven years before Charles Martel, with the aid of Eudo, for ever did away with danger from them to France in the decisive battle of Poitiers (732). According to the Book of the Popes, Gregory had sent ‘three blessed sponges’ to the Frankish leader in the preceding year (720). Of these Eudo gave small particles to his troops to be eaten just before the battle. We are assured that of those who eat of the blessed sponge, not one was slain or wounded! The use of ‘sponges’ in this connection seems so extraordinary, that it has been contended, e.g., by Jager, that the Pope sent indeed some eulogies, i.e., blessed bread or some other blessed present; but that for ‘sponges’ should be read sportulae or baskets. So that the passage would indicate that “three baskets of blessed bread, such as used at the Pope’s table”, were sent to Eudo. Such an alteration of the text, however, is at once arbitrary and unnecessary. In days when people eat their food with their fingers, sponges would be a useful adjunct to the dinner table. And, likely enough, they were not so common among the Franks in the eighth century that they might not well serve as fitting objects for a Pope to send as a present—the more so that, then as now. Catholics value a present from the Pope because it has come from his anointed hands, and not so much because of its intrinsic worth. Gregory no doubt sent the three sponges for lavatory purposes! The use they were actually put to by Eudo was due to the lively faith of that warrior. The passage is chiefly important, however, as we have said already, inasmuch as it shows that Gregory was carefully watching the movements of the Saracens, and was kept informed as to what was being done against them.

Synod in Rome

But political affairs, great and important though they were, did not take up the whole of Gregory’s attention. In the April of 721 a synod at Rome under his guidance drew up seventeen canons for the furtherance of discipline. These canons had reference mostly to the Sacrament of matrimony, and forbade marriage with those consecrated to God, or between near relatives.

Gregory’s next occupation was that of peacemaker.

The ‘schism of Aquileia’ was at least fruitful in one respect. It engendered two patriarchs. As might be expected, two men with very large powers, but with a limited area to exercise them in, did not always agree as to how much of the said area was the peculiar sphere of action of each of them. The patriarch of Aquileia, at this time, was Serenus, Bishop of Forum Julii (Cividale), whose rights were limited to the mainland of Venetia, to that part where reached the power of the Lombards. In response to a request preferred by Liutprand, Gregory sent the pallium to Serenus. Elated at this, Serenus began to encroach on the rights of Grado. Donatus, the patriarch of Grado, appealed to Gregory for protection. Gregory at once wrote  to Serenus (December 1, 723), reminding him that humility was the noblest ornament of high station, and that he (the Pope) had sent him the pallium on the understanding that he would not attempt to interfere with what was due to others. By right of his apostolical authority he warned the patriarch not to transgress the rights of others, but to be content with his own, otherwise he would feel the weight of apostolical rigor.

On the other hand, Gregory wrote to Donatus, the patriarch of Grado, i.e., the patriarch of Aquileia resident in Grado, to his suffragans, to Marcellus the Doge, and to the people of Venetia and Istria. To judge from the Pope’s letter, Donatus had objected to the Pope’s granting the pallium to Serenus at all. For the Pope opens his letter by reminding Donatus, that in virtue of the office, which by the divine mercy he holds, it is his to carry through—all obstacles to the contrary notwithstanding—whatever he has, after careful consideration, judged to be right. However, continues Gregory, he has no wish to act in that high-handed manner; and he informs Donatus of the line of conduct he has adopted towards Serenus. In conclusion he warns them all to look to it, that the Lombards do not take advantage of any dissension among them to make an attempt upon their country. The patriotism of the man is apparent everywhere.        

On the death of Donatus, Peter, Bishop of Pola, was translated to, or usurped, the See of Grado. Translation from see to see, however, was not of old in accordance with the discipline of the Church; and Pope Gregory at once declared Peter deprived of both Pola and Grado, The people of Venetia, at whose invitation, doubtless, Peter had left his See of Pola, begged the Pope to have mercy. Gregory, therefore, allowed Peter to return to his original See; but by letter warned the people of Venetia only to elect their bishops in accordance with the laws of God and the Church. At the bidding of this same Gregory II, not of Gregory III, as the date of this letter proves, Antoninus was elected patriarch of Grado. Space enough has now been given to what may be regarded as the minor events of Gregory’s reign. Our attention must now be given to the Pope’s dealings with the Lombards and the Iconoclast Emperor Leo, the Isaurian—dealings which occupied almost the whole reign of Gregory.

There seems to have been a fairly good understanding between the Lombards and Gregory in the early days of the his pontificate. As Dr. Hodgkin takes notice, Liutprand was swayed in the drawing up of his laws by the letters of the Pope, “who is the head of the Churches of God, and of the priests in the whole world”. And at the exhortation of Gregory he abandoned his designs on the patrimony of the Cottian Alps, and confirmed the restitution of it which had been made by Aripert II. When trouble with the Lombards did begin, it was not with their king, but with one of the practically independent Lombard dukes, Romwald II. It was to render these dukes more submissive that, as will be noted presently, there took place such an extraordinary alliance as that between an exarch and a king of the Lombards.

By stratagem, and at a time when there was peace between the Lombards and the empire, the Lombards of the Duchy of Benevento got possession (717) of Cumae, a town that belonged to the Duchy of Naples. In Rome all was sadness at this untoward event, as their communications with Naples were now cut off. But the loyalty and patriotism of Gregory were equal to the occasion. Though, ever since the recall of Narses, the Roman emperors at Constantinople were only theoretically the rulers of any part of Italy at any distance from the walls of Ravenna, still, despite the outrageous treatment the popes received at their worthless hands, they (the popes) remained faithful to the emperors as long as it was at all possible. And so, on the present occasion, filled with grief at what had happened, Gregory used every means to induce the Lombards to give up their ill-gotten gains. He threatened them with the divine vengeance for their perfidy; he offered them money. But the Lombards despised the Pope’s threats and his money alike. Failing in this direction, Gregory, by daily letters, did his best to rouse the Duke of Naples into action, telling him what ought to be done, and promising to reward him if he were successful. With Theodimus, a subdeacon, one of the rectors of the patrimony at his back, the Duke John managed in his turn to take Cumae by surprise, killed or captured the Lombard garrison, and for further reward received from the truly patriotic Pope no less an amount than 70 lbs. of gold, a very considerable sum in those days. The apparently conflicting action of the Lombards at this period may be best harmonized by reflecting that ambitious and able sovereigns seem to have the power of summoning similar spirits around them; that it was Liutprand’s aim to make all Italy, in fact as well as in name, dependent on him; and that consequently he was not displeased when he beheld hi more or less independent dukes and the exarch busily engaged in destroying one another’s power.

The next move on the part of the Lombards was the capture of Classis, the seaport of Ravenna, by Farwald II, Duke of Spoleto, again in time of peace! By the order of Liutprand it was restored to the exarch. Nothing could give a better proof of the weakness of the imperial power in Italy at this period than this seizing of Classis by a Lombard duke, and its restitution at the bidding of a Lombard king. As in the days of Agilulf, Italy would have fallen altogether into the hands of the Lombards had it not been for Pope Gregory I; so would it now in the days of Liutprand, had it not been for the watchfulness, personal influence, and liberally spent money of the second Gregory.

The Pope well understood the signs of the times. In the interval of seeming rest that followed the raids on help from Classis and Cumae, when men said there was peace, Gregory knew there was no peace. He did his best to meet the storm he saw was brewing. He turned for help, where Pelagius II had long before declared that divine providence had ordained help to come from, viz., from the Franks. Gregory wrote for aid to Charles Martel.

But either Charles had too much to do himself, in the way of driving back the Saracens, or else he had some understanding with his warlike brother-in-law. At any rate, no help was Sent by him. And help was certainly needed if. the power of the Lombards was to be checked.

Somewhere about the year 725, the Lombards, whether Transamund, Duke of Spoleto, or Liutprand himself, is not clear, but probably the former, took the important mountain fortified city of Narni, on the Flaminian Way, and on the frontier of the Roman Duchy. To add fuel to the flames, there appeared in 726 Leo III’s decree against images.

Leo II the Isaurian. 716-741

Two military revolutions, which brought to an abrupt close the short reigns of Anastasius II and Theodosius III, raised to the imperial throne the rude warrior, generally known as Leo (III) the Isaurian, or as Leo the Iconoclast. By the force of a strong or unscrupulous character he had worked himself up from the ranks of the people to the position of general of the Imperial army in the central portion of Asia Minor, when in 716 he usurped the empire. By his valor he saved Constantinople from the Saracens, who besieged it for nearly a year (September 717-August 718). Had he persevered in the way in which he began his reign, and devoted his whole attention to the consolidation of the empire, weakened as it was at this time as well by internal dissensions as by the Saracens, he would have been one of the most useful of the emperors who ruled at Constantinople. But the same mania for interfering in matters of religion seized him as took possession of so many others of the Byzantine Caesars; and he threw both Church and State into a ferment by his decree (726) against the worship of images.

It is the fashion nowadays with many authors, reversing the conclusions of former writers, always to speak of the Iconoclast emperors as great. They follow, at least they always quote with approval, Schlosser of Heidelberg’s History of the Iconoclast Emperors—a work which, in the judgment of such an acknowledged learned and impartial author as Hefélé, is “as offensive through insipid argument as by prejudiced perversion of history”. Acting, it would seem, on the principle, certainly erroneous, that because a man belongs to a particular party, he is therefore so prejudiced that his statements are not to be believed, authors of such deserved repute as Professor Bury begin by discounting what is told us by the ‘Iconodulic chroniclers’, whose records, they are careful to remind us, are the only ones which have come down to us. They then proceed to enlarge, from sources, other than those of contemporary writers, on the great deeds of the Iconoclast emperors.

“It is a misfortune”, writes Bury, “that no historical or other works composed by Iconoclasts (with the exception of the Ecloga, which does not deal with Iconoclasm) are extant ...”. And yet he unhesitatingly declares the Iconodules “exaggerated their (the Iconoclast emperors) faults and calumniated their moral characters”. “As the Iconodulic chroniclers did not know or did not care to tell of Leo’s beneficial reforms, we are left in the dark as to the details”—and one would think, from the evidence producible, as to the reforms themselves. And certainly when an effort is made to discover on what Leo’s title to greatness rests, its foundations seem to be a rather vanishing quantity. He indeed saved Constantinople from the Saracens. But he was helped not only by an unusually severe winter, but, as Bury informs us more than once, by the preparations for a siege that had been made by his prudent predecessor Anastasius II. Despite, however, the fearful losses the Saracens endured under the walls of Constantinople, Leo was unable to make any real headway against them. And how much better he would have been employed in trying to break their power rather than images is obvious from what Bury has to write of their constant inroads into Asia Minor, especially after the year 726, the year of the edict against the images!

The Ecloga of Leo, of which so much is made, was only published in the last year of his reign (740); and was but a “handbook in Greek for popular use, containing a short compendium of the most important laws on the chief relations of life”. Hence, rather to their intrinsic insignificance than to any hatred of the Isaurian emperors “by their successors on account of their religious policy”, should be attributed the fact “that none of their laws were incorporated in the great ninth century code of Basil I and Leo VI”.

Leo was certainly no respecter of the rights of conscience. To say nothing of his treatment of the image-worshippers, “four years after his accession, Leo attempted to compel all the Jews in the Empire to be baptized ... At the same time he tried to force the Montanists to embrace the orthodox creed” (Bury).

As little did he respect the pockets of his subjects. Not only did he rob the popes (732) of 31 talents of gold (for which act there is no word of condemnation in Bury), but he increased the taxes readily and heavily. As a result of his oppressions in the domains of both mind and matter, he had to face the rebellions of Cosmas (727) and of Italy. No ruler deserves to be called great, who so little understands the first principles of government that his measures of even needful reform should bring about such results.

While Professor Bury tells us that the palace of Leo’s son Constantine V (Copronymus) “was constantly a scene of frivolity and festivity”, he still represents him, as well as his father, as a man of elevated views. But while it may be conceded that Leo and Constantine V by their determination of character lessened the anarchy which had preceded their administration, and hence were so far useful rulers, it is not easy to find any evidence that they were great rulers, or that the attitude they took up in the image-controversy was that of men of superior enlighten­ment struggling against degrading superstition. On the contrary, there would seem to be evidence that Leo, at least, attacked what he was too ignorant and uneducated to understand.

Here it may be observed that a history is no place for a theological treatise. It is no part of the historian’s business to inquire whether the worship of images is in accordance with the teachings of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; or, on broader grounds, whether it is compatible with right reason. His sole affair is to explain what exactly the Iconoclast question was, and to give its history as he would that of a political intrigue or a war. Most historians, however, who have treated of the Iconoclast or image breaking controversy have indulged in long and by no means unimpassioned diatribes on the worship of images. A word or two, as calm as possible, may there­fore be permitted here.

There is no question, in the first place, that every Christian must repudiate all ideas of giving supreme honor to images as gods or the abode of God. And certainly no Christian who has had any religious instruction whatsoever would ever dream of so doing. But, it is urged, some Christians have given this supreme worship to images. A proposition most difficult of proof. Except by individual confessions it can never be proved. No amount of external signs that a man may give, apart from a verbal acknowledgment, can ever prove that he has given supreme worship to anything. The means at our command of externally showing honor are so limited that the intensity of the worship a person may wish to convey by the use of one or all of those means can only be gauged by one who knows the mind or intention of him who employs them. That intention can only be known by express statement. And how many Christians, it may be asked with confidence, have ever acknowledged that they have meant to give supreme honor to an image by any of the acts of reverence they may have shown it?

Its utility. At any rate the ignorant may have rendered such adoration, and certainly by their extravagant attitude towards images they often seem to have given them a worship which cannot be said to be advisable. All that may be very true (though it must be borne in mind that with Eastern or more Southern peoples, very violent outward demonstration means very little), and raises the questions as to whether the employment of images in religious worship is useful; and whether, if it is, the abuse does not take away the use. That images of Our Lord and His saints are useful to recall or raise even the minds of the learned to higher things can only be denied by those who have never tried their utility in that direction, or by men who have not sufficiently reflected on what creatures of sense we are. Even the learned pray with some kind of image before their mind’s eye; and as the great Protestant theologian, Leibnitz, closely argued, “To offer up one’s adoration before an external image is no more blameworthy than to do so before the internal image in our minds. The only use of the external image is to deepen the internal one”. Never was the utility of images as reminders more realized than at the present day. The universal use of the camera is proof enough of that. The utility of images as a means of instruction for the uneducated was clearly pointed out by St. Gregory the Great in his letter to Serenus.

If, in itself, however, the utility of images even in religious worship be conceded, does not the dreadful abuse in practice of image worship render the employment of images for devotional purposes altogether undesirable? Emphatically no. In every department, abuse of good is so rampant, that even the necessary would have to be given up, if even gross abuse was always a sufficient excuse for abolishing the use of a thing. Food and drink, for instance, would be the very first things that would have to be given up. And in the case of the use of images, what abuse there may have been or is in their employment, has arisen or comes, for the most part, only from the very stupid or the grossly uninstructed. And surely, in their case, it is better that they should be led by the use of images to offer a mistaken worship to God, rather than that their ignorance or stupidity should keep them from giving Him any worship at all. So much for image worship in the abstract.

And now, what, as a matter of fact, has been the position the Church has taken up from the beginning with regard to the use and worship of images? Anyone can well understand that in the early ages of Christianity, when idolatry (i.e., the worship of many gods, who were supposed, according to the more or less cultured mind of the worshipper, to be, to a less or greater degree, connected with their statues) was well-nigh universal, the Church would be very chary about the use of images. The same caution was required on account of the early converts from Judaism, who had a great hatred of images on account of the frequent falls of their nation into idolatry.

The pagans who, we know, ever put their own construction on the little they cared to find out about Christian teaching, would, of course, have declared that the Christians worshipped as well as they did, had they seen or heard of their kneeling down and praying before a statue. But with all that, the early Christians, fully alive to the advantages of images as aids to piety, did not fail to use them from the very beginning. Witness their use of images of the ‘fish’. They carried the ‘fish’ about with them in life; they had it laid by their sides in death.

Comparing the famous caricature graffito of the Crucifixion found on one of the walls of the Palace of the Caesars on the Palatine hill, and now in the Kircherian Museum, with the common accusation of the Heathens against the Christians, viz., that they worshipped crosses, proves at least that the Christians venerated crucifixes and crosses from the earliest times. The ardent words of St. Paul about the Cross of Christ, and the fact that from the earliest ages the Christians gloried in making the ‘sign of the Cross’ on themselves, quite prepare us to find a veneration for the ‘image of the Cross’.

It is not, however, contended that ‘image worship’, for the reasons alluded to above, made any great progress in the public worship of the Church till after the conversion of Constantine in the fourth century. Some will have it that the council of Elvira in Spain, held about the year 300 (306?), condemned the use of pictures in the churches. After the conversion of Constantine, however, the triumph of Christianity in Europe, by precluding any likelihood of a general return to idolatry, rendered the introduction of images into the churches comparatively safe. Accordingly, that they were then promptly and freely introduced into the churches is scarcely called in question, as the fact is so abundantly demonstrated not only by the ‘very stones themselves’ (e.g., by the figures on sarcophagi, mosaics, etc.), but by the testimony of the Fathers.

This general use of images Leo III thought to abolish by his edict of the year 726. “After the tenth year of against his reign”, says the deacon Stephen, who wrote in 808 the life and martyrdom of St. Stephen the younger, “Leo proclaimed: Since the making of images is an idolatrous art, they (the images) ought not to be adored”. It is very unfortunate that we do not know for certain the motives that impelled Leo to attack holy images. However, as Theophanes was almost contemporary with the beginnings of Iconoclasm, it will be best to follow his guidance in our efforts to get at the truth in this matter.

In the year 722, urged on by a lying Jew, who promised him forty years of rule (which, needless to say, he did not get), Yezid II, the Ommiade Caliph of Damascus, issued a decree against the use of images in the Christian Churches of his dominions.

And we are assured that in Egypt, at any rate, the treasurer el-Habhab, in accordance with the Caliphs order, carried out (722) a general destruction of the sacred pictures of the Christians. The Caliph’s early death, however, prevented his decree from having any lasting effect in his own realm. But it made an impression on the uneducated mind of Leo. This unfavorable impression against images entertained by Leo was deepened by one Beser, who had apostatized in Syria, apparently whilst a slave. His strength of body and kindred character introduced him to the notice and friendship of Leo. Then, doubtless, on the principle of hating what one has wronged, he never failed to instill into Leo his Mohammedan notions on the subject of images. Another evil adviser of the emperor was Constantine, Bishop of Nacolia, a man whom Theophanes describes as thoroughly impure and ignorant. Thus, on the testimony of Theophanes, than whom on this matter we have no better authority, and whose testimony there is no reason to doubt, the two chief instigators of the Iconoclast reform (?) were an apostate and an immoral bishop!

A movement against images, begun by Leo in 725, was quickened into the formal edict of 726, forbidding their use altogether, by a convulsion of nature. A terrific volcanic eruption threw up a new island in the group of the Cyclades, and covered with ashes the coasts of Asia Minor. Beser and the emperor saw in this eruption a portent urging them on. Amid great commotion a famous image of Our Lord above the great gateway (known as the Brazen Gateway) of the emperor’s palace was smashed to pieces. The soldier who did the deed was slain, and a tumult followed. But Leo put it down with a strong hand, and punished its supporters with exile, mutilation and confiscation. The nature of the reform desired by Leo may be gathered from the fact that his persecution was particularly directed against the noble and the learned, with the result that schools were broken up which had flourished from the days of Constantine the Great.

The immediate result of Leo’s decree, and perhaps also of some special heavy tax which he imposed at this time (727) was a rising in Greece. One Cosmas was proclaimed emperor. A fleet of the rebels arrived off Constantinople (April 18, 727), but the dread Greek fire was more than a match for it. Cosmas was executed, and the emperor raged more than ever against the worshippers of images.

The same two causes brought about commotions in Italy, which were not so easily laid to rest as those in Greece; and when they had subsided, they left the imperial power in Italy a mere shadow of what it was, and that of the Pope the only one able to oppose any resistance to the Lombards, who took occasion of the disorder to still further enlarge their territory.

On the authority of Theophanes, as has been said above, it was in the year 725 that Leo first began to make a movement against the use of images. Probably in the same year, whether on their own authority, with a view of hereafter gaining Leo’s favor, or at his direct command, as the Book of the Popes expressly states, a certain duke Basil, the Cartularius (assessor) Jordanes, and a subdeacon Lurion formed a conspiracy to kill the Pope. This conspiracy received the encouragement of Marinus, who had been sent from Constantinople to govern the Duchy of Rome. The unfolding of the plot was checked for a time by the enforced departure from Rome of Marinus in consequence of illness. When Paul came as exarch (726-7) into Italy, the conspirators resumed their work. But the Romans, discovering their dark designs, extinguished them in the blood of their authors.

Meanwhile, in the latter half of the year 726, there was published, in Constantinople, Leo’s edict against the use of images in the churches, and likely enough, at the same time, notice of a very heavy special tax, for the purposes of which Bury supposes that the emperor suppressed a year of the indiction. Apparently, and as might be expected, the notice of the exorbitant tax was the first to reach Italy. As a leader “of a lawful opposition to the tyranny of imperial administration”, Gregory contended against the imposition of the said tax. And because he did so, the exarch, at the command of the emperor, began to concert measures for taking Gregory’s life, putting another in his place, and plundering his churches. An army was accordingly dispatched from Ravenna to carry out these tyrannical intentions. But that they should be put into execution suited neither the Romans nor the Lombards. The Lombards did not wish any increase of the power of the exarch; and the Romans were resolved that no harm should come to their beloved Pope. Combined Roman and Lombard forces therefore caused the exarch’s army to return without accomplishing its purpose.

At length, after this repulse of the exarch, the emperor’s decrees against images were published in his Italian dominions, perhaps at the end of the year 726, arrive in but probably at the very beginning of 727. The Pope was informed that if he interfered with these decrees, as he had in the matter of the tax, he would be degraded. On the contrary, if he acquiesced he would meet with the emperor’s favor. At once Italy was in a storm! The Pope, whose political and ecclesiastical position entitled him to make a direct opposition to Iconoclasm, at once took action, and wrote in all directions to warn the people against the teachings of the emperor. The subjects of the empire took more decided measures. They flew to arms in defence of the Pope; they anathematized the exarch and the one who had commissioned him; and consulted for their own safety and liberty by electing dukes for themselves all over Italy. They even resolved to elect an emperor for themselves and to lead him to Constantinople. But this intention Gregory contrived to divert as he hoped for the conversion of the emperor. In the midst of this general defection, some, of course, took up the emperor’s cause; among others the Duke Exhilaratus, on insufficient authority sometimes called the Duke of Naples. He marched on Rome with his son Hadrian, calling on the people to obey Leo and kill the Pope. The people replied by killing him. In Ravenna also Paul, the exarch, tried to form a party for the emperor, and he also was slain in the tumult that ensued

Now, of course, was the time for the Lombards. They availed themselves of it. In the first place Ravenna itself fell into their hands. Both from the Book of the Popes and the Lombard deacon, it is certain that Liutprand took and destroyed Classis, the harbour of Ravenna, and besieged Ravenna itself. That siege seems to have occurred (717) some years before the capture of Narni, and not to have resulted in the capture of the city. It is certain, however, that Ravenna was captured somewhere about this time, as particulars of its capture are given by Agnellus, and of its recapture by John the Deacon (who wrote some 250 years after this) and Paul the Deacon. When it was actually taken cannot be laid down with any certainty. But from the first letter of Gregory to the emperor, of which more hereafter, it would appear that Ravenna fell into the power of the Lombards for a short time in the year 727. There also fell, without much difficulty, under the rule of the Lombards, the Pentapolis—or the district around the five cities of Rimini, Pesaro, Fano, Ancona, and Umana—and various other places. Among others, Liutprand seized (727-8) Sutri, an important town in the Roman Duchy on the Cassian road. This place, however, in response to the entreaties and money of the Pope, the Lombard restored “to the apostles Peter and Paul”.

Meanwhile, besides thus doing what he could to check against the encroachments of the Lombards, Gregory did not neglect to take steps to hinder the spread of the new heresy. Besides writing the warning letters we have alluded to, but of the contents of which we know nothing, he called a council in Rome (towards the close of 727) to deliberate on the best measures to be adopted to counteract the evil. This synod is spoken of by Pope Hadrian I in the letter which he wrote to Charlemagne (794) in answer to his capitular (the Caroline books). Pope Hadrian quotes a little of Gregory’s speech to the Fathers of this council. Among other points, the Pope insisted “that images and pictures must be so kept and loved that their usefulness might not be spoilt by contempt, and this irreverence redound to the injury of those whose images they are; and that, on the other hand, the integrity of the faith might not be hurt by excessive worship; and that too much honor given to material things might not be an argument that we think too little of spiritual”. Several of the Pope’s arguments “have so great a similarity with some passages of the two letters (yet to be spoken of) of Gregory to the emperor, that we may suppose that Gregory delivered in the synod the principal part of what he wrote to the emperor. But what did he write to the emperor? This question brings us to the two famous letters of Gregory to Leo.

There are to be found appended to the Acts of the Seventh General Council two letters in Greek, letters which were not read at that council, but which, first found by the Jesuit scholar Fronto Ducaeus, were added to the Acts of the Seventh General Council as pertaining thereto, and purporting to be from Pope Gregory II to Leo III. Up till comparatively recently these letters had always been accepted as genuine. Now their authenticity, on what seem to us insufficient grounds, has been called in question by Duchesne, Hodgkin, etc. While it is allowed that the ‘documentary testimony’ in their favor is fair—for MSS. copies of the letters, dating as far back as perhaps the tenth century have been found—it is urged that the internal evidence furnished by the letters is against their genuineness. Such evidence must be strong before it can suffice to upset what has been long accepted, and for which there is satisfactory external evidence. The chief argument against the authenticity of the letters is their alleged coarseness. No doubt there is some plain speaking in them. But if it is a question of balancing the very courtly style of Pope Gregory L to Maurice or Phocas, with the unpolished directness of the letters in question to the uneducated Leo, one ought rather to prefer the latter, and be thankful that the times and the man were such as to permit of a rude tyrant, who was interfering with conscience, being told the simple truth in unvarnished language.

The first letter, then, of Gregory to Leo on the subject of Iconoclasm was dispatched at the close of the year 727, and was to the following effect. The Pope began by reminding Leo that in ten letters he had promised to observe the doctrines of the Fathers.

“If anyone removes the ordinances of the Fathers, said you, let him be anathema. For ten years sacred images have not been mentioned by you. Now you say, they take the part of idols, and you add: Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven thing, etc. But why have you not questioned wise men on this subject before disturbing and perplexing poor people? You could then have learnt of what kind of images God gave that command ... I am forced to write to you in a rough simple style, as you yourself are uneducated and uncultivated”.

The Pope then shows that God, who gave the command about not making graven things (of a certain kind), yet Himself ordered their making for His worship and that men who had seen Our Lord and His martyrs, made pictures of them for others, who, leaving the worship of the devil, venerated these images, not absolutely (with the worship of latria), but relatively...

“You say: We worship stones and walls and boards. But it is not so, O Emperor; but they serve us for remembrance and encouragement, lifting our slow spirits upwards, by those whose names the pictures bear and whose representations they are. And we worship them not as God, as you maintain, God forbid!”....

“Stop”, continues the Pope, “the scandal you are causing. Even the little children mock at you. Go into one of their schools, say that you are the enemy of images, and straightway they will throw their little tablets at your head, and what you have failed to learn from the wise you may pick up from the foolish. You wrote: As the Jewish King Ozias cast the brazen serpent out of the temple after eight hundred years, so I after eight hundred years cast the images out of the Churches. Yes, Ozias was your brother, and, like you, did violence to the priests ... In virtue of the power which has come down to us from St. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, we might inflict a punishment upon you, but since you have invoked one on yourself, have that, you and the counselors you have chosen ... though you have so excellent a high priest, our brother Germanus, whom you ought to have taken into your counsels as father and teacher ... The dogmas of the Church are not a matter for the emperor, but for the bishops”.

The Pope then goes on to point out some of the unhappy consequences of the emperor’s conduct; he tells how, when news of the destruction of the figure of Our Lord at the Brazen Gate, and of the subsequent massacres, had reached the West, the imperial laurel-crowned busts (laureata) were smashed and the Lombards took advantage of the general confusion to seize even Ravenna. But you say, “I will carry off Pope Gregory a prisoner as Constans (II) did Martin”.

After pointing out what would be the folly of such a proceeding, as he acts as a peacemaker between the East and West, Gregory adds that in any case he has only to go a few miles out of Rome and then the emperor might just as well pursue the wind. “Would that it might be the will of God, that Pope Martin’s lot might be mine”.

“Still”, adds the Pope, “as, though quite unworthy, the whole West trusts in us, and in St. Peter, whom men here regard as an earthly god, I am willing to live”.

That the emperor replied to the above letter we know from the second letter of the Pope, in which he expresses grief that the emperor has made it clear by his letter that he (the emperor) has not changed his attitude towards holy images and refuses to follow even the Greek Fathers. Again the Pope reminds Leo that doctrines are matters not for emperors but for bishops, who “have the mind of Christ. You persecute and tyrannize over us with military and physical force. We, unarmed and defenseless .... invoke the Leader of armies .... Jesus Christ, that he may send thee a demon, according to that of the apostle (l Cor. v. 5), deliver such a one to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of Our Lord Jesus Christ”.

“You ask”, continues Gregory, quoting from the emperor’s reply, “how it was that nothing was decreed about images in the six general councils”. For the same reason, retorts the Pope, that it was not decreed that bread had to be eaten and water drunk. Men had as much the habit of venerating images as they had of eating bread and drinking water. Gregory might have added that at least by the Quinisext Council, which the Greeks classed with the Sixth General Council, the worship of images was practically recognized, for it decreed respect to the Cross. “Reverence for the holy cross requires that the form of the cross shall never be found on the floor, so that it may never be trodden under foot” (can. 73). In conclusion the Pope prays for the emperor’s conversion, and that all may be brought back into the one true fold of Christ.

Much about the same time that Gregory wrote his first Gregory letter to Leo on image worship (viz., towards the end of self for the 727), he wrote to Ursus, doge of Venice, and to Antoninus, patriarch of Grado, in the same terms, urging them to stand by the exarch (that must be the new exarch Eutychius), who, the Pope heard, was in Venice, and in his (the Pope’s) stead to fight with the unspeakable Lombards (they were probably then holding Sutri) for the recovery of Ravenna. Ravenna was, in fact, retaken, probably in the early part of the year 728, after it had only been in the hands of the Lombards for a month or two, which may account for its speedy recovery. It may be thought, from all the events we have assigned to the year 727, that things must have moved quickly at that time. Probably, from the energetic character of the principal agents, Leo and Gregory, they did. Even the exarch Eutychius seems to have been a man of more enterprise than most of those who had preceded him in his office.

After the recapture of Ravenna, Eutychius, at the attempt on command of the emperor, proceeded to Naples, whence it was thought he might the more easily operate against the Pope, and effect what had so often been attempted in vain before. Accordingly the exarch sent an emissary to Rome, with instructions to compass the death of the Pope and the chief nobility. The plot transpired, and, but for the interposition of the Pope, its author would have been slain. Indignant at what had occurred, the citizens, great and small, bound themselves by oath to die rather than suffer their noble bishop to be harmed in any way. Not to be baulked, Eutychius endeavored by promise of liberal presents to the king and the dukes of the Lombards to turn them against the Pope. In vain. Romans and Lombards “bound themselves together with the bonds of faith”, declaring they were ready to die rather than that harm should come to such a glorious champion of the Christian faith. But, adds the papal biographer, the Pope placed greater trust in the abundant alms he gave to the poor, and in prayer and fasting, to which he earnestly devoted himself. And while thanking the people for their good­will, he exhorted them to be earnest in the faith, and in the performance of good works, and begged them “not to swerve from the love and fidelity which they owed to the Roman Empire”.

Certainly it was not the Pope’s fault if the Roman people at this epoch threw off the yoke of a rotten empire, which, utterly unable to protect them from the foreigner, could only find strength to try and wring from them their money or their faith. With the facts of history and any elementary knowledge of ethics to guide them, it is truly wonderful how certain English authors descant about the loyalty due (?) from the Pope and the Italian people to the emperor at this time—Englishmen who, of course, do not believe in any ‘divine right of kings’ who govern well, let alone who govern wrongly.

In the East, the emperor continued to work for the establishment of his heresy. He tried, privately at first (728), to gain over the holy patriarch Germanus to publish a declaration in favor of the destruction of images, knowing well that if he succeeded with him his work would be more than half done. The attempt failed, and Germanus notified it to the Pope. Gregory at once wrote  (728) to the patriarch to tell him the joy that his (Germanus’) ‘honorable letter’ had brought him. He feels that he must write and greet Germanus, his brother, and champion of the Church, and praise him for the struggle he has so nobly maintained—a struggle which has left the emperor defeated. Then the Pope goes on to show that Germanus acted rightly in defending the use of holy images, as honor rendered to an image passes on to what it represents. “If God had not become man we should not represent Him in human form .... The images of those things which do not exist, the inventions of pagan poetry, are called idols ... The Church of Christ has nothing to do with idols .... Christians only worship and adore with the worship of  ‘latria’ the Blessed Trinity ... If, however, anyone in Jewish fashion (a reference doubtless to the Jewish advisers or proclivities of the emperor), misusing the words of the Old Testament which were of old directed against idolatry, accuses our Church of idolatry, we can only hold him for a barking dog”. Then, very pointedly, Gregory proceeds to urge that if only the Jews themselves had paid more attention to the images which were used in their own worship—the rod of Moses, the ark, the tabernacle, the cherubim, etc.— they would not have so often turned to idolatry. By the prayers of the Mother of God, and all the saints, Gregory in conclusion trusts that Germanus may long be preserved to teach the way of truth, learnt from the Fathers.

Leo was not, however, at the end of his resources. He tried to crush the resolution of Germanus by breaking him when in contact with already ‘broken reeds’. Acting like our own tyrants, Henry I with St. Anselm and Henry II with St. Thomas of Canterbury, he brought Germanus before a council (called by the Greeks a ‘Silentium’—a very good name, as a general rule, for an assembly presided over by the ‘master of many legions’) composed of his creatures, both cleric and lay (729, or January 7, 730). Germanus was not to be overawed, but, finding he could effect no good, he took off his pallium, the mark of his archiepiscopal dignity, saying: “If I am Jonas, cast me into the sea. Without the authority of a general council, O emperor, no innovation can I make in matters of faith”. Then, adds the chronicler, Germanus retired to his ancestral home and passed the few remaining years of his old age in retirement. And his ambitious disciple Anastasius, who for power had sacrificed his conscience, was made patriarch in his stead (January 22, 730). But, of course, both he and his synodal letter were rejected by Pope Gregory, who threatened to depose him if he did not renounce his heresy.

Whilst Leo in the East was persecuting the orthodox with mutilation and death, his exarch was pushing his cause in Italy. Eutychius had at last managed to bring about an alliance with the Lombard king, on the understanding that they were to help one another, till Liutprand reduced to complete subjection the almost independent dukes of Spoleto and Benevento, and till Eutychius was able to work his will at Rome. Liutprand, with his usual adroitness, got what he wanted done first. Then the two armies marched on Rome, and encamped on the plain of Nero, between the Vatican hill, Monte Mario and the Tiber. But again the personal influence of a Pope saved Rome. Perhaps from what we have already seen of the character of Liutprand, it was not very hard to persuade him to abandon the cause of the exarch. However that may be, Gregory so moved the Lombard king that he threw himself on his knees before the Pope and promised not to harm anyone. Then, after laying down before the body of St. Peter his royal mantle, his spear, and his crown, and reconciling the exarch to the Pope, he withdrew his troops.

As though for the one purpose of bringing into still clearer relief the forgiving nature of the Pope, whilst the exarch was in Rome a certain Petasius, taking the name of Tiberius, raised the standard of revolt in Tuscany against the emperor. He gained the adhesion of certain towns, such as Barberano, Bieda and Luna, an old Etruscan city in the territory of Bieda or Blera. The exarch was alarmed; but encouraged by the Pope, and aided by a body of troops, with which Gregory furnished him, Eutychius slew Petasius and sent his head to Constantinople. “Even with this, the emperor did not look upon the Romans with favor”, concludes the Liber Pontificalis. The popes were loyal to a fault.

It may be well to remark again that the order of events, as set forth above, is at best but conjectural. All that can be said for it is that it has been arranged after a very careful study of the original sources, and of many eminent modern authorities. As far as its author can see, the chronological sequence that he has given above, if it rests on some suppositions, does not contradict anything the most reliable of the ancients have told us, and has the merit of not arbitrarily altering the order in which the Book of the Popes (our best authority) has related the incidents of Gregory’s life, and is in general accord with the views of some of the best modern authorities. Much would be done towards settling the chronological and other difficulties of Gregory’s pontificate if only the date of the capture of Ravenna could be definitely fixed. But, unless some fresh documents are brought to light, it does not seem possible to determine the said date with certainty. No doubt, what with the emperor and his exarch being more intent on forcing heresy on their Italian subjects than in resisting the Lombards; what with the Pope having to resist the Lombards with physical force, and the emperor with moral; and what with the Lombards now apparently favoring and now opposing both the emperor and the Pope, and now acting in unison and now at variance one with the other, no doubt some of the historians themselves of those times were as much in the dark as we are as to the true state of things.

In the account of the beginnings of Iconoclasm given above, nothing has been said of what the Greek historians unanimously relate as to the excommunication of the emperor by the Pope. Theophanes, e.g., after assuring us that in consequence of Leo’s Iconoclasm Gregory prevented Italy and Rome from paying taxes, twice asserts that the Pope “separated Rome and Italy and the whole of the West from political and ecclesiastical obedience to Leo and from his Empire”. But the testimony of later ill-informed Greeks is not to be compared with the opposite evidence of the contemporary Liber Pontificalis, and the Lombard, Paul the Deacon. The later Latins, who have mentioned these stories, have copied them from Theophanes. And it is very clear that the idea of Gregory excommunicating the emperor has been drawn from that passage in the Pope’s second letter, where Gregory, quoting St. Paul (l Cor. V. 5), prays that for the salvation of his soul God will send the emperor a demon. The Pope’s resisting the imposition of the extraordinary tax and his opposition to the emperor’s Iconoclastic decree, have been magnified into his forbidding the payment of any taxes and separating Italy from political subjection to Leo.

The day at length came when the storms in which he had passed his important and glorious pontificate broke unheeded over Gregory’s head. His mortal remains were laid to rest in St. Peter’s, February 11, 731. Both ancient and fair-minded modern authors join in praising the character of Gregory. To the Greek Theophanes he was as illustrious for his deeds as for his learning; to Hodgkin he had “much of the true Roman feeling which had animated his great namesake and predecessor”; and to Finlay he “was a man of sound judgment as well as an able and zealous priest”.

And certainly during the trying years of Gregory’s pontificate there was need of a Pope of sound judgment. He was in the midst of keen and grasping foes. There were Lombard dukes and Lombard kings eager to seize on Rome or its territory; and exarchs of Ravenna wishful to wring from him his faith or his life. The emperor at Constantinople, who ought to have been his strongest support, was his worst oppressor. Great must have been his temptation to throw in his lot with Liutprand or with his practically independent dukes! But throughout he displayed loyalty and good sense. He would not favor an ambitious duke against his king, nor show himself a rebel against a tyrannical sovereign. He steered a straight course, and it brought him to harbour with safety and with profit. He kept faith with Leo whilst all around him were falling away from their allegiance and were everywhere choosing ‘dukes’ for themselves. He caused territory to be restored, and put down those who raised themselves up against the Isaurian despot. Despite of this, Gregory became in practice ruler of the Duchy of Rome. Virtue, in his case, proved its own reward. The exarch could not break through the ring of friends who surrounded Rome and the popes. Liutprand would only restore what he had seized to’ Blessed Peter’. Before the close of his reign, then, Gregory, without failing in loyalty, but by the force of circumstances—the oppressive taxation and meddling theology of Leo the Isaurian—became the sovereign power in Rome.

In the midst of all his difficulties, Gregory found time to devote to church repairs and endowments, as we have noticed before, and to attend to the Church’s liturgy. He decreed that in Lent, on the Thursdays the fast should be observed as on the rest of the days of the week, and that Mass should be said publicly in the churches, though these things were not wont to be done before because Thursdays used to be specially honored by the Pagans in their worship of Jupiter. But Walfrid Strabo (t849) in his work, De divinis officiis (c. 20), says that even before the time of Gregory II Mass was celebrated on the Thursdays in Lent, but that Gregory appointed proper offices for those days, for before his time the Mass of the Sunday immediately preceding was wont to be used on the said Thursdays. Cardinal Bona would reconcile the two statements by supposing that till Gregory’s decree there was no assembly of the faithful on the Thursdays.

Gregory is commemorated as a saint in the Roman calendar and martyrology on February 13th. Some martyrologies give his feast on the 11th February.

 

 

GREGORY III. AD. 731-741