Defending Constantine: The Twilight of an Empire and the Dawn of Christendom (15 page)

Open war broke out in 324, and larger armies than had been seen for centuries and would not be seen again for a millennium converged in Eastern Europe.26
During the summer, Crispus's eighty ships defeated Licinius's three hundred at the Sea of Maramara, and the next day winds broke up all but four of Licinius's ships against the shore. Constantine followed with victories at Byzantium and Adrianople, but Licinius escaped to Chalcedon, where he still had enough support to raise an army. On September 18, Constantine defeated him conclusively at Chrysopolis. Constantia, half-sister of Constantine and wife of Licinius, negotiated a peace, and Licinius and his son were promised their lives and sent off to Thessalonica. By the spring of the following year, however, Constantine had found reason to suspect that Licinius was plotting against him, and he was strangled.

Both parties saw their struggle as a religious war. Licinius sought the guidance of soothsayers and magicians, and he condemned Constantine for being "false to the religion of his forefathers." As the sacrificial smoke arose before the battle, he told his troops that this battle would "decide between our gods and those whom our adversaries profess to honor." For his part, Constantine prepared for battle with prayers in his tabernacle and went to the field following the labrum and probably wearing a helmet marked with the initials of Christ; before the battle his men knelt to pray the generic monotheistic prayer he had prepared for them. Eusebius claimed that Constantine's victory was over his enemies "and their gods," and in the celebrations that followed the soldiers sang "hymns of praise" in
which they "ascribed the supreme sovereignty to God."27
As at Rome, Constantine was hailed as liberator and salvator-Liberator and Savior.

Chrysopolis 324 stands close to Milvian Bridge 312 as a decisive moment in the history of European civilization, and especially of Christianity in Europe. Not only did Constantine become the sole Christian emperor of the Eastern and Western empire, but he also laid the foundations for a new Christian capital city near ancient Byzantium, named for himself.

LIBERATOR OF THE CITY, LIBERATOR OF THE CHURCH?

Constantine's conquest of the East was, more than one historian has suggested, the first crusade
.2' Hardly surprising, say critics of Constantine. A Christianized imperium is inherently a crusading imperium, intolerant, oppressive to minorities and other religions, likely to burn heretics at a moment's notice. As we have seen, the "edict of Milan" set out a quite different policy. That means that the story of Constantine's religious policies is more complicated, and therefore more interesting, than is often supposed. But would he be consistent with the principle of religious liberty articulated there? Now that he had sole control, would he press his advantage and force the empire to embrace Christ? Would Christ simply fill the vacuum left by the removal of the Roman gods? Would Christ become the patron of Rome, Christianity a new form of civic religion?

In a number of works H. A. Drake has argued that the question "Did Constantine become a Christian?" is the wrong question.29
The more per tinent political question is "What kind of Christian did Constantine become?" Christians disagreed on all manner of practical and theological issues in the early fourth century, and they disagreed about politics too. Some hoped for escape from persecution so that they could take the reins of power and apply a retributive "good-for-the-goose" policy. (You made us sacrifice; here, eat this Host!) Others developed a principled understanding of religious freedom, rooted in a particular understanding of the nature of religion and the nature of humanity.

Most of the apologists who defended the church in the early centuries advocated freedom of religion. For some it may have been only tactical, the rhetoric of an oppressed minority. The Latin rhetor Lactantius, however, developed a theological argument for religious freedom. Lactantius was close enough to Constantine later to serve as tutor to the emperor's sons, and his influence is evident in many ways in Constantine's own writings. I noted above that Constantine was convinced, either by Lactantius or by his own observation, of Lactantius's claim that God would avenge those who persecute his people. Lactantius also wrote a short treatise on the anger of God (De ira Dei), again a theme central to Constantine's own religious outlook. Lactantius's Christianity was a hardy, tough-minded, very Latin Christianity that appealed to the sensibilities of a soldier and a politician.

Though he detested the persecuting emperors and merrily detailed their gruesome deaths, Lactantius's basic plea was for freedom of conscience. "Religion is the one field in which freedom has pitched her tent," Lactantius wrote, "for religion is, first and foremost, a matter of free will, and no man can be forced under compulsion to adore what he has no will to adore." At best, coercion will force people to make a "hypocritical show" of devotion, but force cannot make a man or woman will to worship. "If, then, anyone, out of fear of the tools of torture or vanquished by the torture itself, finally assents to the accursed pagan sacrifice, he never acts of his own free will, as compulsion was involved." This is obvious from the fact that "as soon as opportunity offers and he recovers his freedom, he comes back to his God and begs with tears for forgiveness, doing penance for that which he did, not of his own free will, which he did not possess, but under the
compulsion to which he submitted, and the Church will not withhold its forgiveness." To the persecutors, he asked, "What good can you do, then, if you defile the body but cannot break the will?"30
It is a surprisingly modern statement, arguing, as modern theorists like John Courtney Murray and George Weigel do, that religious liberty is the "first freedom," rooted in the very nature of religious life as an exercise of free will.

In the Divine Institutes, Lactantius was responding to Porphyry's arguments in his treatise against Christians and also his treatise Philosophy from Oracles. Porphyry believed that many roads led to the truth and bliss, and this included the road of Jesus. This did not lead Porphyry to endorse a policy of toleration. Christians worshiped a man-a good man, to be sure, but only a man. Porphyry did not think the Roman Empire should be willing to put up with the man-worshiping Christians indefinitely for some greater good. Christianity's humanism offended the gods and needed to be stopped. Porphyry advocated "threatening the use of force against those who worshiped a human being" but at the same time "suggested that Christianity, by forsaking its worship of Jesus, might be made compatible with traditional worship and philosophy.
1131 Christians, he argued, should conform to Roman practice, offer the prescribed sacrifice. They could believe whatever they liked, so long as they did what the empire and its gods demanded. But Rome could not condone Christian worship in its current form.

Lactantius' response draws in part on earlier strands of Roman political theology. Cicero had claimed that God should be approached chastely and with piety, and Lactantius takes this to mean that a true God will not want to have force used in religion, since one cannot be chaste and pious in religion if one is coerced to worship. Force pollutes rather than purifies religion. "For religion is to be defended," he wrote, "not by putting to death, but by dying; not by cruelty, but by patient endurance; not by guilt, but by good faith: for the former belong to evils, but the latter to goods; and it is necessary for that which is good to have place in religion, and not that which is evil. For if you wish to defend religion by
bloodshed, and by tortures, and by guilt, it will no longer be defended, but will be polluted and profaned."32

Lactantius also deployed traditional Roman ideals of freedom. As in the "edict of Milan," the keynote of Lactantius's argument is liberty (libertas). Libertas pitches her tent in the area of religion, and religion belongs in the realm of will rather than in the realm of necessity (necessitas). Libertas has a long history in Roman political theology.33
Caesar and Octavian both posed as liberators of Rome from tyranny and as conservative restorers of the Roman past. Constantine's imperial propaganda rings the same note. The triumphal arch completed in 315 titles him "Liberator of the City" (liberator urbis), other inscriptions in the capital acclaim him as "Restorer of Public Liberty" (restitutor libertatispublicae), and coins claim him to be "Restorer of Rome" (Restitutor Romae) and "Recoverer of His City" (Recuperator urbis suae). Much the same is implied by the designation of Constantine as emperor (princeps), for the emperor was expected to be a "suppressor of tyranny and the surety for freedom."34
Coins declare him to be "greatest emperor" (optimus princeps), and on one coin the goddess Roma herself hands over imperial power to the new prince.35

While continuing to employ the terminology of the traditional imperial ideology, Lactantius revised the concept significantly, and Constantine followed suit in his imperial propaganda. Though still making play with the imperial ideology of the past, they redefined tyranny in terms of religious compulsion, thus branding Diocletian, Maxentius, Licinius, and the rest as enemies of Christian libertas, as sub-Roman tyrants. Perhaps inspired by the arguments of Lactantius, Constantine forged a religious policy that seamlessly knitted Christian and Roman themes together and set the ideological foundations for a Christian, but tolerant, Roman Empire. The theory was expressed in the inscription on the statue of Constantine in Rome. He holds the sign of Christ, and the inscription reads: "In this sign of salvation I have restored to Rome, her senate, and her people, their ancient liberty and glory, delivering them from the lawless
yoke of the tyrant."36
The inscription could have adorned a statue of Octavian, who also claimed to fight for the libertas of the "Senate and the People of Rome" (long abbreviated as SPQR) and who claimed to bring "salvation" of the people. But the Christian symbol changes everything: Rome's libertas is now secure only in hoc signo-in this sign.

What kind of Christian did Constantine become? He became a Lactantian Christian.

Practically, that meant toleration of paganism. That was the policy established in 313, and it was the policy Constantine reiterated, more elaborately, after he defeated Licinius and assumed the sole imperium in 324. His edict to the Eastern Provinces attacked the irrationality of polytheism and defended monotheism. He recalled his father's kindness to the church with fondness and recounted the arrogance and stupidity of the persecuting emperors, "unsound in mind" and "more zealous of cruel than gentle measures." They turned a period of peace and prosperity into a virtual civil war and proved themselves more savage than the barbarians, among whom Christians found refuge. Like Lactantius, he rejoiced that the persecutors "have experienced a miserable end, and are consigned to unceasing punishment in the depths of the lower world." He insulted the Pythian oracle as "impious" and "delusive" and described Christianity as a "holy" religion.

Having exposed the error, the savagery, and the political evils of paganism, and just as the reader is ready for the hammer to fall, Constantine revealed the thrust of the edict. Insisting that his desire was "for the common good of the world and the advantage of all mankind, that your people should enjoy a life of peace and undisturbed concord," he declared that "anyone who delight[s] in error, [should] be made welcome to the same degree of peace and tranquility which they have who believe." He did not want such persons to remain in their ignorance and error but hoped that "this restoration of equal privileges to all will prevail to lead them into the straight path." Perhaps addressing himself to militant Christians, Constantine declared that no one is to molest anyone else: "Let every one do as
his soul desires." It is true that it is possible to live a life of "holiness and purity" only if one relies on the "holy laws" of "men of sound judgment." But Constantine was willing to permit "those who will hold themselves aloof from us" to keep their "temples of lies." He gave a Lactantian rationale for the policy: "The battle for deathlessness requires willing recruits. Coercion is of no avail." There is a vast difference between pursuing immortality "voluntarily" and compelling "others to do so from the fear of punishment." As it comes to a close, the edict modulates from imperial pronouncement to prayer: "We"-he meant "we Christians"-"have the glorious edifice of your truth, which you have given us as our native home. We pray, however, that they too may receive the same blessing, and thus experience that heartfelt joy which unity of sentiment inspires."37
Though framed as an official imperial document, from "Victor Constantinus, Maximus Augustus, to the people of the Eastern provinces," it is more a sermon than a law. Constantine is less a theocrat imposing Christianity than Billy Graham issuing an altar call.

His concluding remarks suggest that Constantine issued the decree in part to cool down hot-headed Christians who might want to shut down all pagan shrines immediately, or even believed that paganism had suddenly died. He went on at length "because we were unwilling to dissemble or be false to the true faith; and the more so, since we understand there are some who say that the rites of the heathen temples, and the power of darkness, have been entirely removed." While he wished it were true, the emperor recognized that "the rebellious spirit of those wicked errors still continues obstinately fixed in the minds of some, so as to discourage the hope of any general restoration of mankind to the ways of truth." Instead of attacking pagans, Christians should be mixing with and evangelizing them. "Once more," he added, "let none use that to the detriment of another which he may himself have received on conviction of its truth; but let every one, if it be possible, apply what he has understood and known to the benefit of his neighbor; if otherwise, let him relinquish the attempt."38

That Constantine was serious about giving freedom to pagans is evident from pagan reaction. For most, Constantine's conversion was a "bear
able evil," and Constantine continued to have pagan philosophers in his court for years after his conversion.39
Pagans continued to serve in his administration and army; he gave pagans high positions; a pagan helped him gather materials from around the East to adorn his great "Christian" city of Constantinople. His policies toward the army were particularly significant. Diocletian, Galerius, and Licinius had expelled Christians from their army because their presence offended the gods and might lead to defeat. Theodosius II operated this principle when he reversed, or revived, Diocletian's policy and restricted the army to Christians. Wearing his chi-rho helmet and bearing his shield painted with a cross, Constantine kept pagan troops and led them in a monotheistic prayer that he knew would not violate their conscience.40