Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Series II, Vol. IV

§1. Editions, &c. (A) Before 1601 only Latin translations. The first, at Vicenza, 1482, completed by Barnabas Celsanus after the death of the translator Omnibonus of Lonigo; dedicated to Paul II. Contained a few works only, viz. the `two books c. Gentes,' the letter to Serapion de Morte Arii, the De Incarn. adv. Arian. and adv. Apollin., `the Dispute with Arius at the Council of Nicaea.' (2) Paris, 1520, pub. by Jean Petit: two books c. Gent. fragment of the ad Marcellin. and some `spuria.' (3) Second edition at Strassburg, 1522., (4) Basel, 1527, by Eramus: Serap. ill. and iv., de Decr., Apol. Fug., Apol. c. Ar. (part of), `ad Monach.,' and some `spuria' (he rejected Serap. i. as unworthy of Athan. !). (5) Lyons, 1532, same contents as numbers (2) and (4), but with renderings by Politian, Reuchlin, Erasmus, &c. (6) Cologne, 1632, similar contents. (7) 1556, Basel (`apud Frobenium'), by P. Nannius, in 4 volumes; great advance on previous editions. 3 vols. contain the version by Nannius of the `genuina,' the fourth `spuria,' rendered by others. The Nannian version was ably tested, and found wanting, under the direction of the congregation of the Index (Migne xxv. pp. xviii. sqq.). (8) 1564 (or 1584?) Basel (substantially the same). (9) 1570, Paris, Vita Autonii and `five dialogues de Trin.,' version of Beza. (10) 1572, Paris, five volumes, combining Nos. 7 and 9. (II) 1574, Paris, Letter ad Amun, Letter 39 (fragment), Letter ad Rufinianum. (12) 1581, Paris, incorporating the latter with No. 10. (13) Rome, 1623, the spurious de variis quaestianibus.

(B) The first Greek Edition (14) 1601 at Heidelberg by Commelinus, with the Nannian Latin version (2 vols. fo. with a supplement of fragments, letters, &c., communicated by P. Felckmann). This edition was founded upon Felckmann's collation of numerous mss., of which the chief were (a) that in the Public Library at Basel (saec. xiv., not ix.-x. as Felck. states; formerly belonged to the Dominican Friary there). (b) The `Codex Christophorsoni,' now at Trin. Coll., Camb., saec. xvi. ineunt. (g) A `Codex Goblerianus' dated 1319, formerly thj monhj tou kurizou, and principally used by Nannius. Neither this nor the remaining mss. of Felckmann are as yet, I believe, identified. (Particulars, Migne, P.G. xxv. p. xliii.) (15) 1608, Paris, pub. by C. Chappelet, edited by Fronton le Duc, S.J., Latin only. (17) 1612, Paris, No. 15, with Vit. Ant. in Greek and Latin, from an edition (16) of 1611, Augsburg, by Höschel, 4º. (18) 1627, Paris, Greek text of 1601 with version of Nannius from edition No. 17, both injudiciously revised by Jean le Pescheur, from the critical notes of Felckmann himself, which however are omitted in this edition. (19) `Cologne,' or rather Leipzig, 1686, poor reprint of No. 18 with the Syntagma Doctrinae which Arnold had published in the previous year (see below, ch. ii. ). (Montf. wrongly dates this 1681.)

(C) All the above were entirely superseded by the great (20) 1698 Paris Benedictine Edition by Bernard de Montfaucon, aided, for part of vol. 1, by Jacques Loppin, 3 volumes fol. (i.e. vol. 1, parts 1 and 2, `genuina,' vol. 2 `dubia et spuria'), with a New Latin Version and ample prolegomena, &c. Montfaucon took over, apparently without revision, the critical data of Felckmann (including his mistake as to the age of the Basel ms. but collated very many fresh mss. (principally Parisian, full particulars in Migne xxvi. pp. 1449, sqq.), and for the first time put the text on a fairly satisfactory footing. The Works of Athanasius were freshly arranged with an attempt at chronological order, and a `Monitum' or short introduction prefixed to each. Critical, and a few explanatory, notes throughout; also an `onomasticon' or glossary. This splendid edition was far more complete than its predecessors, and beautifully printed. After its completion, Montfaucon discovered fresh material, most of which he published in vol. 2 of his `Collectio Nova Patrum,' Paris, 1706, with some further supplementary matter to his Prolegomena, partly in reply to Tillemont upon various critical questions; small additions in his Biblioth. Coisliniana, 1715. (The letters to Lucifer, included in Montfaucon's edition, had already seen the light in vol. iv. of the Bibliotheca Maxima Patrum (Lyons, 1677, Greekfathers in Latin only), and the two notes to Orsisius were taken from the life of Pachomius in the Acta SS. for May.)

(21) 1746, Rome, the de Titulis Psalmorum, edited from Barberini and Vatican mss. by Cardinal Niccolo Antonelli. (22) 1769, Venice, vol. v. of the `Bibliotheca Patrum' of the Oratorian Andrea Gallandi. Contains the works omitted in No. 2o, chiefly from Montf. Coll. Nov., but with a few minor additions, and with the fragments and letters found by Maffei at Verona (see below, pp. 495, 554). (23) 1777, Padua,by Giustiniani, in four volumes, containing firstly Montfaucon's `genuina' in two volumes, the `dubia' and `spuria' in the third, and the supplementary matter from (21) and (22) in the fourth. The printing of this standard edition is not equal to that of No. 20. (24) `1884' (1857), Paris, vols. xxv.-xxviii. of Migne's Patrologia Graeca, a reprint of No. 23, but in a new order (see vol. xxviii. p. 1650), and with the addition of the Festal Letters from Mai (see below, p. 501). The merits and demerits of this series are well known. Of the latter, the most serious are the misprints, with which every page literally teems.

(D) With Migne's edition the publication of a complete Athanasius (so far as his works are known to be extant) is attained, although there is still everything to be done towards the revision of the text on a critical basis. Among modern editions of large portions of Athanasius from the Benedictine text may be mentioned (25) Thilo, Athan. Opp. dogm. Selecta, Leipz. 1853. (26) Bright, Orations against the Arians (1873 2nd ed. 1883), and Historical Writings of Athanasius, 1881 (Oxf. Univ. Press), with introductions; both most convenient; his Lessons from the lives of three great Fathers (Longmans, 1890) gives an interesting popular study of Athan. Editions of separate books will be noticed in the short Introductions prefixed in this volume.

§2. Translations. The principal Latin versions have been referred to in §1. Of those in foreign languages it is not easy to procure adequate information. Fialon, in the work mentioned below, translates Apol. Const. and Apol. Fug.; in German the `Bibliothek der Kirchenvaeter,' vols. 13-18, Ausgew. Schriften des h. Ath., contains translations of several works by Fisch, Kempten from 1872. The principal English Translations are those in the `Library of the Fathers.' Of these, those edited or translated by Newman are incorporated in this volume. Some letters included in this volume, as well as the work against Apollinarianism, are also comprised in the volume (Lib. Fath. 46, 1881) by Bright, with excellent notes, &c., and with a preface by Dr. Pusey (see below, p. 482). Translations of single books will be noticed in the respective Introductions.

§3. Biographies. (a.) Ancient. The writings of Athanasius himself, while seldom furnishing precise chronological data, furnish almost all the primary information as to the facts of his eventful life. The earliest `Life' is the panegyric of Gregory of Nazianzus (Or. 21), delivered at CP. 379 or 380, rich in praises, but less so in historical material. More important in the latter respect is the Historia Acephala (probably earlier than 390) printed in this volume, pp. 496, sqq. (The Edition by Sievers in Ztschr. für Hist. Theol. for 1868 is referred to in this volume as `Sievers' simply.) It is a priceless source of chronological information, especially where it coincides with and confirms the data of the Festal Index (pp. 503, sqq.), a document probably earlier than 400. A secondary place is occupied by the Church historians, especially Socrates, Sozomen, and Theodoret, who draw largely from Athanasius himself, and from Rufinus, also in part from the Hist. Aceph. (especially Sozomen), and from Arian sources, which are mainly used by Philostorgius. More scattered notices in later ecclesiastical writers of the fourth century, especially Epiphanius; also Synesius, Jerome, Basil, &c., in the documents of the Councils, &c., and in the Life of Pachomius and other early documents relating to Egyptian Monasticism (see below, Introd. to Vit. Anton. and Appendix, pp 188, 487).

(b) Medieval. Under this head we may notice the Lives printed by Montfaucon among his Prolegomena. The first, Incerto Auctore, is dependent on the fifth-century historians and of no value. A second, preserved by Photius (c. 840) is in the judgment of that scholar, which Montfaucon endorses `unparalleled rubbish.' That by the Metaphrast _967) is a patchwork from earlier writers made with little skill, and not of use to the historian. An Arabic Life current in the Coptic Church, communicated to Montf. by Renandot, is given by Montf., as he says, that his readers may appreciate the `stupendous ignorance and triviality' of that nation. Montf. mentions Latin `Lives' compiled from Rufinus and from the Hist. Tripartita, `of no value whatever.' Of the Life of Athanasius `by Pachomius,' mentioned by Archd. Farrar (infra), I can obtain no particulars.

(c) Modern. The first was that by Tortelius prefixed to the edition of 1520 (§1 (2)), but compiled in the previous century and dedicated to Pope Eugenius IV. (`good for its time,' M.). Montf. mentions a valueless life by Lipomanus and a worse one of unknown origin prefixed to other early editions. In1671 Hermant made the first attempt at a critical biography (Paris); in 1664 an English work, "History of the Life and Actions of St. Athanasius by N.B. P.C. Catholick," with the imprimatur of Abp. Sheldon, had been published at London, in 1677 the biography in Cave, Lives of the Fathers, and in 1686-1704 du Pin, Nouvelle Bibliothèque. About the same date appeared the first volume of the Acta SS. for May, which contains a careful life by Paperbroch (1685; ded. to Innocent XI.). But all previous (to say nothing of subsequent) labours were cast into the shade by the appearance of the `Vita' of Montfaucon (Prolegg. to Tom. 1) in 1698, in which the chronology was reduced to order, and every particle of information lucidly digested; and by the `Memoires' of `M. Lenain de Tillemont' (vol. viii. in 1702), which go over the ground with quite equal thoroughness, and on many points traverse the conclusions of Montfaucon, whose work came into Tillemont's hands only when the latter was on his death-bed (1698). The ground was once more traversed with some fulness and with special attention to the literary and doctrinal work of Athan. by Remy Ceillier, (Aut. Sacres, vol. v. 1735). After this nothing remained to be done until the revival of interest in patristic studies during the present century. In 1827 appeared the monograph of Möhler `Ath. der Grösse' (Mainz), a dogmatic (R.C.) rather than a historical study: in 1862 Stanley (`Eastern Church,' Lect. vii.). Böhringer's life (in vol. 6 of Kirchengesch. in Biographien, 1860-1879) is praised as `thoroughly good and nearly exhaustive.' Fialon St. Athanase, Paris, 1877, is a most interesting and suggestive, though rather sketchy, treatment from an unusual point of view. P. Barbier Vie de St. A. (Tours, 1888) I have not seen. The best English life is that of Dr. Bright, first in the Introd. to the `Orations' (supra, d. 26), but rewritten for the Dictionary of Christ. Biography. The same writer's Introd. to the Hist. Writings (supra ib.) is equally good and should also be consulted. A lucid and able sketch by Dr. Reynolds has been published by the Religious Tract Society, 1889, and Archd. Farrar, Lives of the Fathers, 1, pp. 445-571, is eloquent and sympathetic.

§4. History of the Period, and of the Arian Controversy. (a) Conflict of the Church with Heathenism. On the later persecutions Aube, Les Chréestiens dans l'Emp. romain, Paris, 1881, id.`L'église et l'état,' ib. 1886, Uhlhorn Kampf des Christentums, &c. (4th ed.), 1886, Bernhardt Gesch. Roms von Valerian bis Dioklet., 1876, Görres, Licinianische Christenverfolgung, 1875. On Diocletian, Mason, Persec. of Diocl., 1876, Monographs by Vogel, 1857, Preuss, 1869. On the general subject of the decline of paganism, Lasaulx Untergang des Hellenismus, 1854, Merivale's Boyle Lectures, 1864-5, Chastel, Destruction du Paganisme, 1850, Schultze Gesch. des Untergangs des G.-R. Heidentums, 1887 (not praised),Döllinger, Gentile and Jew (E. Tr.), 1862. On the revival of paganism under Julian, Rendall, Julian 1879, Bp. J. Wordsworth in D.C.B., vol. ii., lives of Julian by Neander, 1813, Rode, 1877, Mücke, 1879, Naville, 1877, Strauss, der Romantiker, u.s.w., 1847, Julian's works, ed. Hertlein, 1875, and Neumann, 1880. Monographs by Auer, 1855, Mangold, 1862, Semisch, 1862, Lübker, 1864; Capes University Life in Ancient Athens, 1877, Sievers, Leben des Libanius, 1868.

(b) The Christian Empire, Keim, Uebertritt Konstantins, 1862, Brieger, Konst. der G., 1880, Gibbon's chapters on the subject should be carefully read. Chawner's Legisl. of Constantine, De Broglie, L'église et L'emp. romain, ii., Ranke, Weltgesch. iv. pp. 1-100 (important), 1884, Schiller, Gesch. der röm. Kaiserzeit (ii), 1887. See also the full bibliogaphy in vol. 1 of this series, p. 445-465.

(c) General History of the Church. It is unnecessary to enumerate the well-known general histories, all of which devote special pains to Athanasius and the Arian controversy. This is especially the case with Schaff, Nicene Christ. ii 616-678, 884-893, with full bibliography. See also supra . Bright's Notes on the Canons (Oxf. 1882), and Hefele, vol. 2 (E. Tra.), are most useful: also Kaye, Council of Nicaea (Works, vol. v. ed. 1888). Card. Hergenröther's Kirchengeschichte (allowing for the natural bias of the writer) is fair and able, with good bibliographical references in the notes (ed. 1884). By far the best modern historical monograph on the Arian period is that of Gwatkin, Studies of Arianism, 1882, constantly referred to in this volume, and indispensable. His Arian Controversy, 1889, is an abridgement, but with supplementary discussions of importance on one or two points; very useful bibliography prefixed to both. (Cf. also below, Chap. v. ) Kölling's Geschichte der Arianischen Haeresie (1St vol., 1874, 2nd, 1883) is pretentious and uncritical.

§5. History of Doctrine. For ancient sources see articles Heresiology and Person of Christ in D.C.B., vols. iii., iv. The modern classics are the works of Petavius, de Trinitate (in vols. ii. and iii. of his De dogmat. Theol.) of Thomassinus, Dogmata Theologica, and of Bull, Defensio fidei Nicaenae (maintanin against Petav. the fixity of pro-Nicene doctrine). Under this head we include Newman's Arians of the Fourth Century, an English classic, unrivalled as a dogmatic and religious study of Arianism, although unsatisfactory on its purely historical side. (Obsolete chronology retained in all editions.) The general histories of Doctrine are of course full on the subject of Arianism; for an enumeration of them, see Harnack, of his Prolegomena. In English we have Shedd (N.Y., 1863, Edinb., 1884), Hagenbach (Clark's Foreign Theol. Lib.), and the great work of Dorner(id.). The most important recent works are those of Harnack, Dogmengeschichte (1886, third vol., 1890), a most able work and (allowing for the prepossessions of the Ritschl school) impartial and philosophical; and Loofs, Leitfaden zur Dogmengeschichte (2 ed., 1890), on similar lines, but studiously temperate and fair. Both works are much used in this volume (quoted commonly as `Harnack,' `Loofs,' simply. Harnack, vol. i., is quoted from the first edition, but the later editions give comparative tables of the pages). For Councils and Creeds, in addition to the works of Hefele and Bright mentioned §4 c., see Heurtley Harmonia Symbolica; Hahn, Bibliothek der Symbole; Hort, Two Dissertations (1876), indispensable for history of the Nicene Creed; Swainson, Nicene and Apostles' Creed, 1875; Caspari, Ungedruckte u.s.w. Quellen zum Taufsymbol u.s.w. (3 vols. in 2, Christiania, 1866-1875), and Alte und Neue Quellen, ib. 1879; one of the most important of modern patristic works.

§6. Patristic Monographs. (a) Among the very numerous works of this kind, the most useful for our purpose are Zahn, Marcellus von Ancyra, 1867, very important for doctrinal history; Reinkens, Hilarius von Poitiers, 1864; Fialon, St. Basile, 1868; Ullmann, Gregorius von Nazianz (2 ed., 1867, part of earlier ed. trans. by Cox, 1855); Krüger, Lucifer von Calaris (excellent, especially for the Council of 362). Under this head may be mentioned the numerous excellent articles in Dict. Chr. Biog. referred to in their respective connexions.

(b) On the doctrine af Athanasius. In addition to the works of Ceillier and Möhler referred to above, Atzberger, Die Locaslehre des h. Ath. (Munich, 1880); Voigt, Die Lehre des Athan. (Bremen, 1861); Pell, Lehre des h. Ath. von der Sunde und Erlösung (Passau, 1888, a careful and meritorious analysis, candidly in the interest of Roman Catholicism. Difficulties not always faced).

The above list of authorities, &c., does not pretend to completeness, nor to enumerate the sources for general secular or Church history. But in what relates specially to Athanasius it is hoped that an approximation to either requirement has been attained. Works hearing on more special points are referred to in their proper places. In particular, a special Brief Bibliography is prefixed to the Vita Antonii.

Chapter II.-Life of St. Athanasius and Account of Arianism.

a. §§1-3. To the Council of Nicaea, 298-325.§1. Early years, 298-319.§2. The Arian controversy before Nicaea (319-325).§3. (1.) The Council of Nicae (325).§3. (2.) Situation at the close of the Council (325-328).

a. Novelty of Arianism. Its Antecedents in the history of doctrine.

b. The `Omoousion.'

c. Materials for reaction.

1. Persecuted Arians.

2. Eusebius and the Court.

3. Ecclesiastical conservatism. Marcellus and Photinus.

b. §§4-8. The Conflict with Arianism (328-361).§4. Early years of his Episcopate (328-335), and first troubles.§5. The Council of Tyre and First Exile (335-337).§6. Renewed troubles and Second Exile (337-346).

1. At Alexandria (337-339).

2. At Rome. Council of Antioch, &c. (339-342).

3. Constans; Council of Sardica, and its sequel (342-346).§7. The golden Decade (346-356).

1. Athanasius as bishop.

2. Sequel of the death of Constans.§8. The Third Exile (356-361).

1. Expulsion of Athanasius.

2. State of the Arian Controversy:-

a. `Anomoeans';

b. `Homoeans';

c. `SemiArians.'

3. Athanasius in his retirement.

c. §§9, 10. Athanasius in Victory (362-373).§9. Under Julian and his successors; Fourth and Fifth Exiles (362-366).§10. Last years. Basil, Marcellus, Apollinarius (366-373).

Id primum scitu opus est in proposito nobis minime fuisse ut omnis ad Arium Arianos aliosque haereticos illius aetatis itidemque Alexandrum Alexandrinum Hosium Marcellum Serapionem aliosque Athanasii familiares aut synodos spectantia recensere sed solummodo ea quae uel ad Athanasii Vitam pertinent uel ad earn proxime accedunt.-Montfaucon.

§1.

Athanasius was born between 296 and 2981¹ . His parents, according to later writers, were of high rank and wealthy. At any rate, their son received a liberal education. In his most youthful work we find him repeatedly quoting Plato, and ready with a definition from the Organon of Aristotle. He is also familiar with the theories of various philosophical schools, and in particular with the developments of Neo-Platonism. In later works, he quotes Homer more than once (Hist. Ar. 68, Orat. iv. 29), he addresses to Constantius a defence bearing unmistakeable traces of a study of Demosthenes de Corona (Fialon, pp. 286 sq. 293). His education was that of a Greek: Egyptian antiquities and religion, the monuments and their history, have no special interest for him: he nowhere betrays any trace of Egyptian national feeling. But from early years another element had taken a first place in his training and in his interest. It was in the Holy Scriptures that his martyr teachers had instructed him, and in the Scriptures his mind and writings are saturated. Ignorant of Hebrew, and only rarely appealing to other Greek versions (to Aquila once in the Ecthesis, to other versions once or twice upon the Psalms), his knowledge of the Old Testament is limited to the Septuagint. But of it, as well as of the New Testament, he has an astonishing command, Alecandreuj tw genei, anhr logioj, dunatoj wn taij grafaij. The combination of Scriptural study and of Greek learning was what one expects in a pupil of the famous Alexandrian School; and it was in this School, the School of Clement and Origen, of Dionysius and Theognostus, that young Athanasius learned, possibly at first from the lips of Peter the bishop and martyr of 3II² . The influence of Origen still coloured the traditions of the theological school of Alexandria. It was from Alexander, Bishop of Alexandria 312-328, himself an Origenist `of the right wing,' that Athanasius received his moulding at the critical period of his later teens.

Of his first introduction to Alexander a famous story is told by Rufinus (Hist. Ed. I. xiv.). The Bishop, on the anniversary of the martyrdom of his predecessor. Peter, was expecting some clergy to dinner after service in a house by the sea. Out of the window, he saw some boys at play on the shore: as he watched, he saw that they were imitating the sacred rites of the Church. Thinking at last that they were going too far, he sent some of his clergy to bring them in. At first his enquiries of the little fellows produced an alarmed denial. But at length he elicited that one of them had acted the Bishop and had baptized some of the others in the character of catechumens. On ascertaining that all details had been duly observed, he consulted his clergy, and decided that the baptisms should be treated as valid, and that the boy-bishop and his clergy had given such plain proof of their vocation that their parents must be instructed to hand them over to be educated for the sacred profession. Young Athanasius accordingly, after a further course of elementary studies, was handed over to the bishop to be brought up, like Samuel, in the Temple of God. This, adds Sozomen (ii. 17), was the origin of his subsequent attachment to Alexander as deacon and secretary. The story is credited by some writers of weight (most recently. by Archdeacon Farrar), but seems highly improbable. It depends on the single authority of a writer not famed for historical judgment, and on the very first anniversary of Peter's martyrdom, when Alexander had hardly ascended the episcopal throne, Athanasius was at least fourteen years old. The probability that the anniversary would have been other than the first, and the possibility that Athanasius was even older, coupled with the certainty that his theological study began before Peter's martyrdom, compel us to mark the story with at least a strong note of interrogation. But it may be allowed to confirm us in the belief that Alexander early singled out the promise of ability and devotion which marked Athanasius for his right-hand man long before the crisis which first proved his unique value.

His years of study and work in the bishop's household bore rich fruit in the two youthful works already alluded to. These works more than any later writings of Athanasius bear traces of the Alexandrian theology and of the influence of Origenism: but in them already we trace the independent grasp of Christian principles which mark Athanasius as the representative of something more than a school, however noble and many-sided. It was not as a theologian, but as a believing soul in need of a Saviour, that Athanasius approached the mystery of Christ. Throughout the mazes of the Arian controversy his tenacious hold upon this fundamental principle steered his course and balanced his theology. And it is this that above all else characterises the golden treatise on the Incarnation of the Word. There is, however, one element in the influence of Origen and and his successors which already comes out, and which never lost its hold upon Athanasius,-the principle of asceticism. Although the ascetic tendency was present in Christianity from the first, and had already burst forth into extravagance in such men as Tertullian, it was reserved for the school of Origen, influenced by Platonist ideas of the world and life, to give to it the rank of an acknowledged principle of Christian morals-to give the stimulus to monasticism (see below, p. 193). Among the acclamations which accompanied the election of Athanasius to the episcopate that of estwnaskhwn was conspicuous (Apol. Ar. 6). In de Incarn. 51, 1, 48. 2, we seem to recognise the future biographer of Antony³ .

§2. The Arian Controversy Before Nicaea, 319-325.

At the time when Athanasius first appeared as an author, the condition of Christian Egypt was not peaceful. Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis, was accused of having sacrificed during the persecution in 301 (pp. 131, 234); condemned by a synod under bishop Peter, he had carried on schismatical intrigues under Peter, Achillas, and Alexander, and by this time had a large following, especially in Upper Egypt. Many cities had Meletian bishops: many of the hermits, and even communities of monks (p. 135), were on his side.

The Meletian account of the matter (preserved by Epiphan. Haer. 58) was different from this. Meletius had been in prison along with Peter, and had differed from him on the question of the lapsed, taking the sterner view, in which most of the imprisoned clergy supported him. It would not be without a parallel (D.C.b. art. Donatists, Novatian)in the history of the burning question of the lapsi to suppose that Meletius recoiled from a compromised position to the advocacy of impossible strictness. At any rate (de Incarn. 24. 4) the Egyptian Church was rent by a formidable schism. No doctrinal question, however, was involved. The alliance of Meletians and Arians belongs to a later date.

It is doubtful whether the outbreak of the Arian controversy at Alexandria was directly connected with the previous Christological controversies in the same Church. The great Dionysius some half-century before had been involved in controversy with members of his Church both in Alexandria and in the suffragan dioceses of Libya (infr. p. 173). Of the sequel of that controversy we have no direct knowledge: but we find several bishops and numerous clergy and laity in Alexandria and Libya⁴ ready to side with Arius against his bishop.

The origin of the controversy is obscure. It certainly must be placed as early as 318 or 319, to leave sufficient time before the final deposition of Arius in the council of 321 (infr. p. 234). We are told that Arius, a native of Libya, had settled in Alexandria soon after the origin of the Meletian schism, and had from motives of ambition sided at first with Meletius, then with Peter, who ordained him deacon, but afterwards was compelled to depose him (Epiph. Haer. 69, Sozom. i. 15). He became reconciled to Achillas, who raised him to the presbyterate. Disappointed of the bishopric at the election of Alexander, he nurtured a private grudge (Thdt. H. E. i. 2), which eventually culminated in opposition to his teaching. These tales deserve little credit: they are unsupported by Athanasius, and bear every trace of invention ex post facto. That Arius was a vain person we see from his Thalia (infr. p. 308): but he certainly possessed claims to personal respect, and we find him not only in charge of the urban parish of Baucalis, but entrusted with the duties of a professor of scriptural exegesis. There is in fact no necessity to seek for personal motives to explain the dispute. The Arian problem was one which the Church was unable to avoid. Not until every alternative had been tried and rejected was the final theological expression of her faith possible. Two great streams of theological influence had run their course in the third century: the subordinationist theology of Origen at Alexandria, the Monarchian theology of the West and of Asia which had found a logical expression in Paul of Samosata. Both streams had met in Lucian the martyr, at Antioch, and in Arius, the pupil of Lucian, produced a result which combined elements of both (see below, (2) a). According to some authorities Arius was the aggressor. He challenged some theological statements of Alexander as Sabellian, urging in opposition to them that if the Son were truly a Son He must have had a beginning, and that there had been therefore a time when He did not exist. According to others (Constantine in Eus. Vit. ii. 69) Alexander had demanded of his presbyters an explanation of some passage of Scripture which had led Arius to broach his heresy. At any rate the attitude of Alexander was at first conciliatory. Himself an Origenist, he was willing to give Arius a fair hearing (Sozom. ubi supra). But the latter was impracticable. He began to canvass for support, and his doctrine was widely accepted. Among his first partisans were a number of lay people and virgins, five presbyters of Alexandria, six deacons, including Euzoius, afterwards Arian bishop at Antioch (a.d. 361), and the Libyan bishops Secundus of Ptolemais in Pentapolis (see p. 226) and Theonas of Marmarica (see p. 70). A letter was addressed to Arius and his friends by Alexander, and signed by the clergy of Alexandria, but without result. A synod was now called (infr. p. 70,Socr. i. 6) of the bishops of Egypt and Libya, and Arius a d his allies deposed. Even this did not check the movement. In Egypt two presbyters and for deacons of the Mareotis, one of the former being Pistus, a later Arian bishop of Alexandria, declared for Arius; while abroad he was in correspondence with influential bishops who cordially promised their support. Conspicuous among the latter was a man of whom we shall hear much in the earlier treatises of this volume, Eusebius, bishop of Berytus, who had recently, against the older custom of the Church (p. 103, note 6), but in accordance with what has ever since been general in the case of important sees, been translated to the imperial city of Nicomedia. High in the favour, perhaps related to the family, of Constantine, possessed of theological training and practical ability, this remarkable man was for nearly a quarter of a century the head and centre of the Arian cause. (For his character and history, see the excellent article in D.C.B. ii. 360-367.) He had been a fellow-pupil of Arius in the school of Lucian, and fully shared his opinions (his letter to Paulinus of Tyre, Thdt. H. E. i. 6). The letter addressed to him by Arius (ib. 5) is one of our most important Arian monuments. Arius claims the sympathy of Eusebius of Caesarea and other leading bishops, in fact of all the East excepting Macarius of Jerusalem and two others, `heretical and untutored persons.' Eusebius responded with zeal to the appeal of his `fellow-Lucianist.' While Alexander was indefatigable in writing to warn the bishops everywhere against Arius (who had now left Alexandria to seek foreign support, first in Palestine, then at Nicomedia), and in particular addressed a long letter to Alexander, bishop of Byzantium (Thdt. H. E. i. 4), Eusebius called a council at Nicomedia, which issued letters in favour of Arius to many bishops, and urged Alexander himself to receive him to communion. Meanwhile a fresh complication had appeared in Egypt. Colluthus, whose name stands first among the signatures to the memorandum (to be mentioned presently) of the deposition of Arius, impatient it would seem at the moderation of Alexander, founded a schism of his own, and although merely a presbyter, took upon himself to ordain. In Egypt and abroad confusion reigned: parties formed in every city, bishops, to adopt the simile of Eusebius (Vit. Const.), collided like the fabled Symplegades, the most sacred of subjects were bandied about in the mouths of the populace, Christian and heathen.

In all this confusion Athanasius was ready with his convictions. His sure instinct and powerful grasp of the centre of the question made him the mainstay of his Bishop in the painful conflict. At a stage⁵ of it difficult to determine with precision, Alexander sent out to the bishops of the Church at large a concise and carefully-worded memorandum of the decision of the Egyptian Synod of 321, fortified by the signatures of the clergy of Alexandria and the Mareotis (see infra, pp. 68-71).

This weighty document, so different in thought and style from the letter of Alexander preserved by Theodoret, bears the clear stamp of the mind and character of Athanasius: it contains the germ of which his whole series of anti-Arian writings are the expansion (see introd. and notes, pp. 68-71), and is a significant comment on the hint of the Egyptian. bishops (Apol. c. Ar. 6 ad init.).

Early in 324 a new actor came upon the scene. Hosius, bishop of Cordova and confessor (he is referred to, not by name, Vit. Const. ii. 63, 73, cf. iii. 7, o panu bowmenoj; by name, Socr. i. 7), arrived with a letter from the Emperor himself, intreating both parties to make peace, and treating the matter as one of trivial moment. The letter may have been written upon information furnished by Eusebius (D.C.B.s.v.); but the anxiety of the Emperor for the peace of his new dominions is its keynote. On the arrival of Hosius a council (p. 140) was held, which produced little effect as far as the main question was concerned: but the claims of Colluthus were absolutely disallowed, and his ordination of one Ischyras (infr. ) to the presbyterate pronounced null and void. Hosius apparently carried back with him a strong report in favour of Alexander; at any rate the Emperor is credited (Gelas. Cyz. ii., Hard. Conc. i. 451-458) with a vehement letter of rebuke to Arius, possibly at this juncture. Such was the state of affairs which led to the imperial resolve, probably at the suggestion of Hosius, to summon a council of bishops from the whole world to decide the doctrinal question, as well as the relatively lesser matters in controversy.

§3 (1) The Council of Nicaea.

An ecumenical council was a new experiment. Local councils had long since grown to be a recognised organ of the Church both for legislation and for judicial proceedings. But no precedent as yet prescribed, no ecclesiastical law or theological principle had as yet enthroned, the `General Council' as the supreme expression of the Church's mind. Constantine had already referred the case of the Donatists first to a select council at Rome under bishop Miltiades, then to what Augustine (Ep. 43) has been understood to call a `plenarium ecclesiae universae concilium' at Arles in 314. This remedy for schism was now to be tried on a grander scale. That the heads of all the Churches of Christendom should meet in free and brotherly deliberation, and should testify to all the world their agreement in the Faith handed down independently but harmoniously from the earliest times in Churches widely remote in situation, and separated by differences of language race and civilisation, is a grand and impressive idea, an idea approximately realised at Nicaea as in no other assembly that has ever met. The testimony of such an assembly carries the strongest evidential weight; and the almost unanimous horror of the Nicene Bishops at the novelty and profaneness of Arianism condemns it irrevocably as alien to the immemorial belief of the Churches. But it was one thing to perceive this, another to formulate the positive belief of the Church in such a way as to exclude the heresy; one thing to agree in condemning Arian formulae, another to agree upon an adequate test of orthodoxy. This was the problem which lay before the council, and with which only its more clearsighted members tenaciously grappled: this is the explanation of the reaction which followed, and which for more than a generation, for well nigh half a century after, placed its results in jeopardy. The number of bishops who met at Nicaea was over 250⁶ . They represented many nationalities (Euseb. ubi supra.), but only a handful came from the West, the chief being Hosius, Caecilian of Carthage, and the presbyters sent by Silvester of Rome, whose age prevented his presence in person. The council lasted from the end of May till Aug. 25 (see D.C.A., 1389). With the many picturesque stories told of its incidents we have nothing to do (Stanley's Eastern Church, Socr. i. 10-12, Soz. i. 17, 18, Rufin. H.E. i. 3-5); but it may be well to note the division of parties. (1) Of thoroughgoing partisans of Arius, Secundus⁷ and Theonas alone scorned all compromise. But Eusebius of Nicomedia, Theognis, Bishop of Nicaea itself, and Maris of Chalcedon, also belonged to the inner circle of Arians by conviction (Socr. i. 8; Soz. i. 21 makes up the same number, but wrongly). The three last-named were pupils of Lucian (Philost. ii. 15). Some twelve others (the chief names are Athanasius of Anazarbus and Narcissus of Neronias, in Cilicia; Patrophilus of Scythopolis, Aetius of Lydda, Paulinus of Tyre, Theodotus of Laodicea, Gregory of Berytus, in Syria and Palestine; Menophantus of Ephesus; for a fuller discussion see Gwatk. p. 31, n. 3) completed the strength of the Arian party proper. (2) On the other hand a clearly formulated doctrinal position in contrast to Arianism was taken up by a minority only, although this minority carried the day. Alexander of Alexandria of course was the rallying point of this wing, but the choice of the formula proceeded from other minds. `gpodtadij and ou>\/ia are one in the Nicene formula: Alexander in 323 writes of treij upodtaeij.

The test formula of Nicaea was the work of two concurrent influences, that of the anti-Origenists of the East, especially Marcellus of Ancyra, Eustathius of Antioch, supported by Macarius of `Aelia,' Hellanicus of Tripolis, and Asclepas of Gaza, and that of the Western bishops, especially Hosius of Cordova. The latter fact explains the energetic intervention of Constantine at the critical moment on behalf of the test (see below, and Ep. Eus. p. 75); the word was commended to the Fathers by Constantine, but Constantine was `prompted' by Hosius (Harnack, Dogmg. ii. 226); outoj thn Nikaia pioton ecqeto (infr. p. 285, ). Alexander (the Origenist) had been prepared for this by Hosius beforehand (Soc. iii. 7; Philost. i. 7; cf. Zahn Marcell. p. 23, and Harnack's important note, p.229). Least of all was Athanasius the author of the omoousion; his whole attitude toward the famous test (infr. p. 303) is that of loyal acceptance and assimilation rather than of native inward affinity. `He was moulded by the Nicene Creed, did not mould it himself' (Loofs, p. 134). The theological keynote of the council was struck by a small minority; Eustathius, Marcellus, perhaps Macarius, and the Westerns, above all Hosius; the numbers were doubtless contributed by the Egyptian bishops who had condemned Arius in 321. The signatures, which seem partly incorrect, preserve a list of about 20. The party then which rallied round Alexander in formal opposition to the Arians may be put down at over thirty. `The men who best understood Arianism were most decided on the necessity of its formal condemnation.' (Gwatkin.) To this compact and determined group the result of the council was due, and in their struggle they owed much-how much it is hard to determine-to the energy and eloquence of the deacon Athanasius, who had accompanied his bishop to the council as an indispensable companion (infr. p. 103; Soz. i. 17 fin.). (3) Between the convinced Arians and their reasoned opponents lay the great mass of the bishops, 200 and more, nearly all from Syria and Asia Minor, who wished for nothing more than that they might hand on to those who came after them the faith they had received at baptism, and had learned from their predecessors. These were the `conservatives⁸ ,' or middle party, composed of all those who, for whatever reason, while untainted with Arianism, yet either failed to feel its urgent danger to the Church, or else to hold steadily in view the necessity of an adequate test if it was to be banished. Simple shepherds like Spyridion of Cyprus; men of the world who were more interested in their libelli than in the magnitude of the doctrinal issue; theologians, a. numerous class, `who on the basis of half-understood Origenist ideas were prepared to recognise in Christ only the Mediator appointed (no doubt before all ages) between God and the World' (Zahn Marc. p. 30); men who in the best of faith yet failed from lack of intellectual clearsightedness to grasp the question for themselves; a few, possibly, who were inclined to think that Arius was hardly used and might be right after all; such were the main elements which made up the mass of the council, and upon whose indefiniteness, sympathy, or unwillingness to impose any effective test, the Arian party based their hopes at any rate of toleration. Spokesman and leader of the middle party was the most learned Churchman of the age, Eusebius of Caesarea. A devoted admirer of Origen, but independent of the school of Lucian, he had, during the early stages of the controversy, thrown his weight on the side of toleration for Arius. He had himself used compromising language, and in his letter to the Caesarean Church (infra, p. 76 sq.) does so again. But equally strong language can be cited from him on the other side, and belonging as he does properly to the pre-Nicene age, it is highly invidious to make the most of his Arianising passages, and, ignoring or explaining away those on the other side, and depreciating his splendid and lasting services to Christian learning, to class him summarily with his namesake of Nicotnedia⁹ . (See Prolegg. to vol. 1 of this series, and above all the article in D.C.B.) The fact however remains, that Eusebius gave something more than moral support to the Arians. He was `neither a great man nor a clear thinker' (Gwatkin); his own theology was hazy and involved; as an Origenist, his main dread was of Monarchianism, and his policy in the council was to stave off at least such a condemnation of Arianism as should open the door to `confounding the Persons.' Eusebius apparently represents, therefore, the `left wing,' or the last mentioned, of the `conservative' elements in the council (supra, and Gwatkin, p. 38); but his learning, age, position, and the ascendency of Origenist Theology in the East, marked him out as the leader of the whole.

But the `conservatism' of the great mass of bishops rejected Arianism more promptly than had been expected by its adherents or patrons.

The real work of the council did not begin at once. The way was blocked by innumerable applications the Christian Emperor from bishops and clergy, mainly for the redress of personal grievances. Commonplace men often fail to see the proportion of things, and to rise to the magnitude of the events in which they play their part. At last Constantine appointed a day for the formal and final reception of all personal complaints, and burnt the `libelli' in the presence of the assembled fathers. He then named a clay by which the bishops were to be ready for a formal decision of the matters in dispute. The way was now open for the leaders to set to work. Quasi-formal meetings were held, Arius and his supporters met the bishops, and the situation began to clear (Soz. i. 17). To their dismay (de Deer. 3) the Arian leaders realised that they could only count on some seventeen supporters out of the entire body of bishops. They would seem to have seriously and honestly underrated the novelty of their own teaching (cf. the letter of Arius in Thdt. i. 5), and to have come to the council with the expectation of victory over the party of Alexander. But they discovered their mistake:-

`Sectamur ultro, quos opimus

Fallere et effugere est triumphus."

`Fallere et effugere' was in fact the problem which now confronted them. It seems to have been agreed at an early stage, perhaps it was understood from the first, that some formula of the unanimous belief of the Church must be fixed upon to make an end of controversy. The Alexandrians and `Conservatives' confronted the Arians with the traditional Scriptural phrases (pp. 163, 491) which appeared to leave no doubt as to the eternal Godhead of the Son. But to their surprise they were met with perfect acquiescence. Only as each test was propounded, it was observed that the suspected party whispered and gesticulated to one another, evidently hinting that each could be safely accepted, since it admitted of evasion. If their assent was asked to the formula `like to the Father in all things,' it was given with the reservation that man as such is `the image and glory of God.' The `power of God' elicited the whispered explanation that the host of Israel was spoken of as dunamij kuriou, and that even the locust and caterpillar are called the `power of God.' The `eternity' of the Son was countered by the text, `We that live are alway (2 Cor iv. ii)!' The fathers were baffled, and the test of omoousion, with which the minority had been ready from the first, was being forced (p. 172) upon the majority by the evasions of the Arians. When the day for the decisive meeting arrived it was felt that the choice lay between the adoption of the word, cost what it might, and the admission of Arianism to a position of toleration and influence in the Church. But then, was Arianism all that Alexander and Eustathius made it out to be? was Arianism so very intolerable, that this novel test must be imposed on the Church? The answer came (Newman Ar. p. 252) from Eusebius of Nicomedia. Upon the assembling of the bishops for their momentous debate (wj de ezhteito thj pistewj o tropoj, Eustath.) he presented them with a statement of his belief. The previous course of events may have convinced him that half-measures would defeat their own purpose, and that a challenge to the enemy, a forlorn hope, was the only resort left to him¹⁰ . At any rate the statement was an unambiguous assertion of the Arian formulae, and it cleared the situation at once. An angry clamour silenced the innovator, and his document was publicly torn to shreds (up oyei pantwn, says an eye-witness in Thdt. i. 8). Even the majority of the Arians were cowed, and the party were reduced to the inner circle of five (supra). It was now agreed on all hands that a stringent formula was needed. But Eusebius of Caesarea came forward with a last effort to stave off the inevitable. He produced a formula, not of his own devising (Kölling, pp. 208 sqq.), but consisting of the creed of his own Church with an addition intended to guard against Sabellianism (Hort, Two Diss. pp. 56, sq. 138). The formula was unassailable on the basis of Scripture and of tradition. No one had a word to say against it, and the Emperor expressed his personal anxiety that it should be adopted, with the single improvement of the omoousion. The suggestion thus quietly made was momentous in its result. We cannot but recognise the `prompter' Hosius behind the Imperial recommendation: the friends of Alexander had patiently waited their time, and now their time was come: the two Eusebii had placed the result in their hands. But how and where was the necessary word to be inserted? and if some change must be made in the Caesarean formula, would it not be as well to set one or two other details right? At any rate, the creed of Eusebius was carefully overhauled clause by clause, and eventually took a form materially different from that in which it was first presented¹¹ , and with affinities to the creeds of Antioch and Jerusalem as well as Caesarea.

All was now ready; the creed, the result of minute and careful deliberations (we do not know their history, nor even how long they occupied¹² ), lay before the council. We are told `the council paused.' The evidence fails us; but it may well have been so. All the bishops who were genuinely horrified at the naked Arianism of Eusebius of Nicomedia were yet far from sharing the clearsighted definiteness of the few: they knew that the test proposed was not in Scripture, that it had a suspicious history in the Church. The history of the subsequent generation shews that the mind of Eastern Christendom was not wholly ripe for its adoption. But the fathers were reminded of the previous discussions, of the futility of the Scriptural tests, of the locust and the caterpillar, of the whisperings, the nods, winks, and evasions. With a great revulsion of feeling the council closed its ranks and marched triumphantly to its conclusion. All signed,-all but two, Secundus and Theonas. Maris signed and Theognis, Menophantus and Patrophilus, and all the rest. Eusebius of Nicomedia signed; signed everything, even the condemnation of his own convictions and of his `genuine fellow-Lucianist' Arius; not the last time that an Arian leader was found to turn against a friend in the hour of trial. Eusebius justified his signature by a `mental reservation;' but we can sympathise with the bitter scorn of Secundus, who as he departed to his exile warned Eusebius that he would not long escape the same fate (Philost. i. 9).

The council broke up after being entertained by the Emperor at a sumptuous banquet in honour of his Vicennalia. The recalcitrant bishops with Arius and some others were sent into exile (an unhappy and fateful precedent), a fate which soon after overtook Eusebius of Nicomedia and Theognis (see the discussion in D.C.B. ii. 364 sq.). But in 329 `we find Eusebius once more in high favour with Constantine, discharging his episcopal functions, persuading Constantine that he and Arius held substantially the Creed of Nicaea.'

The council also dealt with the Paschal question (see Vit. Coast. iii. 18; so far as the question bears on Athanasius see below, p. 500), and with the Meletian schism in Egypt. The latter was the main subject of a letter (Soc. i. 9; Thdt. i. 9) to the Alexandrian Church. Meletius himself was to retain the honorary title of bishop, to remain strictly at home, and to be in lay communion for the rest of his life. The bishops and clergy of his party were to receive a mustikwtera xeirotonia (see Bright, Notes on Canons, pp. 25 sqq.; Gore, The Church and the Ministry, ed. 1, p. 192 note), and to be allowed to discharge their office, but in the strictest subordination to the Catholic Clergy of Alexander. But on vacancies occurring, the Meletian incumbents were to succeed subject to (1) their fitness, (2) the wishes of the people, (3) the approval of the Bishop of Alexandria. The terms were mild, and even the gentle nature of Alexander seems to have feared that immediate peace might have been purchased at the expense of future trouble (his successor openly blames the compromise, p. 131, and more strongly p. 137); accordingly, before carrying out the settlement he required Meletius to draw up an exact list of his clergy at the time of the council, so as to bar an indefinite multiplication of claims. Meletius, who must have been even less pleased with the settlement than his metropolitan, seems to have taken his time. At last nothing would satisfy both parties but the personal presentation of the Meletian bishops from all Egypt, and of their clergy from Alexandria itself, to Alexander (p. 137, toutouj kai parontaj paredwken tw Alecandrw), who was thus enabled to check the Brevium or schedule handed in by their chief¹³ . All this must have taken a long time after Alexander's return, and the peace was soon broken by his death.

Five months after the conclusion of the negotiations, Alexander having now died, the flame of schism broke out afresh (infr. p. 131. Montfaucon, in Migne xxv. p. lvii., shews conclusively that the above is the meaning of the mhnaj pente.) On his death-bed, Alexander called for Athanasius. He was away from Alexandria, but the other deacon of that name (see signatures p. 71), stepped forward in answer to the call. But without noticing him, the Bishop repeated the name, adding, `You think to escape, but it cannot be.' (Sozom, ii. 17.) Alexander had already written his Easter Letter for the year 328 (it was apparently still extant at the end of the century, p. 503). He died on April 17 of that year (Pharmuthi 22), and on the eighth of June Athanasius was chosen bishop in his stead.

§4 (2). The Situation After the Council of Nicaea.

The council (a) had testified, by its horrified and spontaneous rejection of it, that Arianism was a novelty subversive of the Christian faith as they had received it from their fathers. They had (b) banished it from the Church by an inexorable test, which even the leading supporters of Arius had been induced to subscribe. In the years immediately following, we find (c) a large majority of the Eastern bishops, especially of Syria and Asia Minor, the very regions whence the numerical strength of the council was drawn, in full reaction against the council; first against the leaders of the victorious party, eventually and for nearly a whole generation against the symbol itself; the final victory of the latter in the East being the result of the slow growth of conviction, a growth independent of the authority of the council which it eventually was led to recognise. To understand this paradox of history, which determines the whole story of the life of Athanasius as bishop, it is necessary to estimate at some length the theological and ecclesiastical situation at the close of the council: this will best be done by examining each point in turn (a) the novelty of Arianism, (b) the omoousion as a theological formula, (c) the materials for reaction.

(a) `Arianism was a new doctrine in the Church' (Harnack, p. 218); but it claimed to be no novelty. And it was successful for a long time in gaining `conservative' patronage. Its novelty, as observed above, is sufficiently shewn by its reception at the Council of Nicaea. But no novelty springs into existence without antecedents. What were the antecedents of Arianism? How does it stand related to the history within the Church of the momentous question, `What think ye of Christ?'

In examining such a question, two methods are possible. We may take as our point of departure the formulated dogma say of Nicaea, and examine in the light of it variations in theological statements in preceding periods, to shew that they do not warrant us in regarding the dogma as an innovation. That is the dogmatic method. Or we may take our start from the beginning, and trace the history of doctrine in the order of cause and effect, so as to detect the divergence and convergence of streams of influence, and arrive at an answer to the question, How came men to think and speak as they did? That is the historical method. Both methods have their recommendations, and either has been ably applied to the problem before us. In electing the latter I choose the more difficult road; but I do so with the conviction, firstly, that the former has tended (and especially in the ablest hands) to obscure our perception of the actual facts, secondly, that the saving faith of Christ has everything to gain from a method which appeals directly to our sense of historical truth, and satisfies, not merely overawes, the mind.

Let us then go back to `the beginning of the Gospel.' Taking the synoptic gospels as our primary evidence, we ask, what did Christ our Lord teach about Himself? We do not find formal definitions of doctrine concerning His Person. Doubtless it may seem that such a definition on His part would have saved infinite dispute and searchings of heart in the history of the Church. But recognising in Him the unique and supreme Revealer of the Father, it is not for us to say what He should have taught; we must accept His method of teaching as that which Divine Wisdom chose as the best, and its sequel in history as the way in which God willed man to learn. We find then in the materials which we possess for the history of His Life and Teaching fully enough to explain the belief of His disciples (see below) in His Divinity. Firstly, there is no serious doubt as to His claim to be the Messiah. (The confession of Peter in all four Gospels, Matt. xvi. 16; Mark viii. 29; Luke ix. 27; John vi. 69; `Son of Man,' Dan. vii. 13; Dan ix. 24, &c.). In this character He is King in the kingdom of Heaven (Matt. xxv. 31-36, cf. Mk. viii. 38), and revises the Law with full authority (Matt. v. 21-44, cf. Luke v. 24; Matt. xii. 8). It may be added that whatever this claim conveyed to the Jews of His own time (see Stanton's Jewish and Christian Messiah) it is impossible to combine in one idea the Old Testament traits of the Coming One if we stop short of the identification of the Messiah with the God of Israel (see Delitzsch, Psalms, vol. i. pp. 94, 95, last English ed.). Secondly, Christ enjoys and confers the full authority of God (Matt. x. 40; Luke x. 16; cf. also Matt. xxiv. 35; Mk. xiii. 31; Luke xxi. 33), gives and promises the Holy Spirit (`the Spirit of the Father,' see Matt. x. 17, &c.; Luke xii. 12, and especially Luke xxi. 15, egw gar dwsw, &c.), and apparently sends the prophets and holy men of old (cf Matt. xxiii. 34, egw apostellw with Luke xi. 49). Thirdly, the foundation of all this is laid in a passage preserved by the first and third gospels, in which He claims the unqualified possession of the mind of the Father (Luke x. 22; Matt. xi. 27), `No man knoweth [who] the Son [is], save the Father, neither knoweth any man [who] the Father [is] save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will (boulhtai) reveal Him.' Observe the reciprocity of knowledge between the Son and the Father. This claim is a decisive instantia foederis between the Synoptics and the Fourth Gospel, e.g. John xvi. 15; John xiv. 9, &c. Fourthly, we observe the claim made by Him throughout the synoptic record to absolute confidence, absolute faith, obedience, self-surrender, such as no frail man is justified in claiming from another; the absence of any trace in the mind of the `meek and lowly' one of that consciousness of sin, that need of reconciliation with God, which is to us an indispensable condition of the religious temper, and the starting-point of Christian faith (contrast Isa. vi. 5).

We now turn to the Apostles. Here a few brief remarks must suffice. (A suggestive summary in Sanday, `What the first Christians thought about Christ,' Oxford House Papers, First Series.) That S. Paul's summary of the Gospel (1 Cor. xv. 3 sqq.) is given by him as common ground between himself and the older Apostles follows strictly from the fact that the verb used (parelabon) links the facts of Redemption (v. 1, 4) with the personal experiences of the original disciples (5 sqq.). In fact it is not in dispute that the original Jewish nucleus of the Apostolic Church preached Jesus as the Messiah, and His death as the ground of forgiveness of sins (Pfleiderer, Urchrist. p. 20; Acts 11. 36, Acts 11. 38; Acts iii. 26; Acts iv. 12, &c.; the `Hebraic colouring' of these early chapters is very characteristic and important). The question is, however, how much this implied as to the Divine Personality of the Saviour; how far the belief of the Apostles and their contemporaries was uniform and explicit on this point. Important light is thrown on this question by the controversy which divided S. Paul from the mass of Jewish Christians with respect to the observance of the Law. Our primary source of knowledge here is Galatians, ch. ii. We there learn that while S. Paul regarded this question as involving the whole essence of the Gospel, and resisted every attempt to impose circumcision on Gentile Christians, the older Apostles conceded the one point regarded as central, and, while reserving the obligation of the Law on those born under it (which S. Paul never directly assailed, 1 Cor. vii. 18) recognised the Gospel of the uncircumcision as legitimate. This concession, as the event proved, conceded everything; if the `gospel of the uncircumcision' was sufficient for salvation, circumcision became a national, not a religious principle. Now this whole question was fundamentally a question about Christ. Men who believed, or were willing to grant, that the Law uttered from Sinai by the awful voice of the Most High Himself was no longer the supreme revelation of God, the one divinely ordained covenant of righteousness, certainly believed that some revelation of God different in kind (for no revelation of God to man could surpass the degree of Ex. xxxiii. 11) had taken place, an unique revelation of God in man. The revelation of God in Christ, not the revelation of God to Moses, was the one fact in the world's history; Sinai was dwarfed in comparison of Calvary. But it must be observed that while the older Apostles, by the very recognition of the gospel of the uncircumcision, went thus far with S. Paul, S. Paul realised as a central principle what to others lay at the circumference. What to the one was a result of their belief in Christ was to him the starting-point, from which logical conclusions were seen to follow, practical applications made in every direction. At the same time S. Paul taught nothing about Christ that was not implied in the belief of the older Apostles, or that they would not have felt impelled by their own religious position to accept. In fact it was their fundamental union in the implicit belief of the divinity of the Lord that made possible any agreement between S. Paul and the Jewish Apostles as to the gospel of the uncircumcision.

The apostles of the circumcision, however, stood between S. Paul and the zealot mass of Jewish Christians (Acts xxi. 20), many of whom were far from acquiescing in the recognition of S. Paul's Gospel. On the same principle that we have used to determine the belief of the Stuloi with regard to Christ, we must needs recognise that where the gospel of the uncircumcision was still assailed or disparaged, the Divinity of Christ was apprehended faintly, or not at all.

The name of the `Ebionite' sect testifies to its continuity with a section of the Jerusalem Church (see Lightfoot's Galatians, S. Paul and the Three). It should be observed, however, firstly that between the clear-sighted Apostle of the Gentiles and the straitest of the zealots, there lay every conceivable gradation of intermediate positions (Loofs, Leitf. §11. 2, 3); secondly, that while emancipation from legalism in the Apostolic Church implied what has been said above, a belief in the divinity of Jesus was in itself compatible with strict Jewish observance.

The divinity of Christ then was firmly held by S. Paul (the most remarkable passage is Rom. x. 9, Rom. x. 11, Rom. x. 13, where Khsoun 'hsoun = auton = Kurion = twty

Joel ii. 32), and his belief was held by him in common with the Jewish Apostles, although with a clearer illumination as to its consequences. That this belief was absolutely universal in the Church is not to be maintained, the elimination of Ebionism was only gradual (Justin, Dial. xlviii. ad fin.); but that it, and not Ebionism, represented the common belief of the Apostles and New Testament writers is not to be doubted.

But taking this as proved, we do not find an equally clear answer to the question In what sense is Christ God? The synoptic record makes no explicit reference to the pre-existence of Christ: but the witness of John and descent of the Spirit (Mark i. 7-11) at His baptism, coupled with the Virginal Birth (Mt., Lk.), and with the traits of the synoptic portrait of Christ as collected above, if they do not compel us to assert, yet forbid us to deny the presence of this doctrine to the minds of the Evangelists. In the Pauline (including Hebrews) and Johannine writings the doctrine is strongly marked, and in the latter (Joh. i. 1, Joh. i. 14, Joh. i. 18, monogenhj Qeoj) Jesus Christ is expressly identified with the creative Word (Palestinian Memra, rather than Alexandrian or from Philo; see also Rev. xix. 13), and the Word with God. Moreover such passages as Philipp. ii. 6 sqq., 2 Cor. xiii. 14 (the Apostolic benediction), &c., &c., are significant of the impression left upon the mind of the infant Churches as they started upon their history no longer under the personal guidance of the Apostles of the Lord.

Jesus Christ was God, was one with the Father and with the Spirit: that was enough for the faith, the love, the conduct of the primitive Church. The Church was nothing so little as a society of theologians; monotheists and worshippers of Christ by the same instinct, to analyse their faith as an intellectual problem was far from their thoughts: God Himself (and there is but one God) had suffered for them (Ign. Rom. vi.; Tat. Gr. 13; Melito Fr. 7), God's sufferings were before their eyes (Clem. R. I. II. 1), they desired the drink of God, even His blood (Ign. Rom. vii., cf. Acts xx. 28); if enthusiastic devotion gave way for a moment to reflexion `we must think of Jesus Christ as of God' (`Clem. R.' II. 1).

The `Apostolic fathers' are not theological in their aim or method. The earliest seat of theological reflexion in the primitive Church appears to have been Asia Minor, or rather Western Asia from Antioch to the Aegean. From this region proceed the Ignatian letters, which stand alone among the literature of their day in theological depth and reflexion. Their theology `is wonderfully mature in spite of its immaturity, full of reflexions, and yet at the same time full of intuitive originality' (Loofs, p. 61). The central idea is that of the renovation of man (Eph. 20), now under the power of Satan and Death (ib. 3, 19), which are undone (katalusij) in Christ, the risen Saviour (Smyrn. 3), who is `our true Life,' and endows us with immortality (Smyrn. 4, Magn. 6, Eph. 17). This is by virtue of His Divinity (Eph. 19, Smyrn. 4) in union with His perfect Manhood. He is the only utterance of God (logoj apo sighj proelqwn, Magn. 8), the `unlying mouth by which the Father spake' (Rom. 8.) `God come (genomenoj) in the flesh,' `our God' (Eph. 7, 18). His flesh partaken mystically in the Eucharist unites our nature to His, is the `medicine of incorruption' (Eph. 20, Smyrn. 7, cf. Trall. 1). Ignatius does not distinguish the relation of the divine to the human in Christ: he is content to insist on both: `one Physician, of flesh and of spirit, begotten and unbegotten' (Eph. 7). Nor does he clearly conceive the relation of the Eternal Son to the Father. He is unbegotten (as God) and begotten (as man): from eternity with the Father (Magn. 6): through Him the One God manifested himself. The theological depth of Ignatius was perhaps in part called forth by the danger to the churches from the Docetic heretics, representative of a Judaic (Philad. 5, Magn. 8-10) syncretism which had long had a hold in Asia Minor (1 John and Lightfoot Coloss., p. 73, 81 sqq.). To this he opposes what is evidently a creed (Trall. 9), with emphasis on the reality (alhqwj) of all the facts of Redemption comprised in it.

It was in fact the controversies of the second century that produced a theology in the Catholic Church,-that in a sense produced the Catholic Church itself. The idea of the Church as distinct from and embracing the Churches is a New Testament idea (Eph. v. 25, cf. 1 Cor. xv. 9, &c.), and the name `Catholic' occurs at the beginning of the second century (Lightfoot's note on Ign. Smyrn. 8); but the Gnostic and Montanist controversies compelled the Churches which held fast to the paradosij of the Apostles to close their ranks (episcopal federation) and to reflect upon their creed. The Baptismal Creed (Rom. x. 9, Acts viii. 37, Text. Rec., cf. 1 Cor. xv. 3-4) began to serve as a tessera or passport of right belief, and as a regularire standard, a `rule of faith.' The `limits of the Christian Church' began to be more clearly defined (Stanton, ubi supr. p. 167).

Another influence which during the same period led to a gradual formation of theology was the necessity of defending the Church against heathenism. If the Gnostics were `the first Christian theologians' (Harnack), the Apologists (120-200) are more directly important for our present enquiry. The usual title of Justin `Philosopher and Martyr' is significant of his position and typical of the class of writers to which he belongs. On the one hand the Apologists are philosophers rather than theologians. Christianity is `the only true philosophy' (Justin); its doctrines are found piecemeal among the philosophers (logoj spermatikoj), who are so far Christians, just as the Christians are the true philosophers (Justin and Minuc. Felix). But the Logos, who is imparted fragmentarily to the philosophers, is revealed in His entire divine Personality in Christ (so Justin beyond the others, Apol. ii. 8, Apol. ii. 10). In the doctrine of God, their thought is coloured by the eclectic Platonism of the age before Plotinus. God, the Father of all things, is Creator, Lord, Master, and as such known to man, but in Himself Unoriginate (agenhtoj), ineffable, mysterious (arrhtoj), without a name, One and alone, incapable of Incarnation (for references to Justin and to Plato, D.C.B. iii. 572). His `goodness' is metaphysical perfection, or beneficence to man, His `righteousness' that of Moral Governor of the Universe (contrast the deeper sense of St. Paul, Rom. iii. 21, &c.). But the abstractness of the conception of God gives way to personal vividness in the doctrine of the `visible God' (Tert. Prax. 15 sq.), the Logos (the subject of the O. T. `theophanies' according to the Apologists) who was `with' the Father before all things (Just. Dial. 62), but was `begotten' or projected (problhqeij) by the will of the Father (ib. 128) as God from God, as a flame from fire. He is, like the Father, ineffable (Cpistoj, Just. Apol. ii. 6), yet is the aggeloj, uphrethj of the Father. In particular He is the Father's minister in Creation: to create He proceeded from the Father, a doctrine expressly deduced from Prov. viii. 22 (Dial. 61, 129). Before this He was the logoj endiaqetoj, after it the logoj proforikoj, the Word uttered (Ps. xlv. 1 LXX; this distinction is not in Justin, but is found Theophil. ad Autol. ii. 10, 22: it is the most marked trace of philosophic [Stoic] influence on the Apologists). The Apologists, then, conceive of Christian theology as philosophers. Especially the Person of the Saviour is regarded by them from the cosmological, not the soteriological view-point. From the latter, as we have seen, St. Paul starts; and his view gradually embraces the distant horizon of the former (1 Cor. viii. 6, Coloss. i. 15); from the soteriological side also (directly) he reaches the divinity of Christ (Rom. v. 1-8; 1 Cor. i. 30; Rom. x. 13, as above). Here, as we shall see, Athanasius meets the Arians substantially by St. Paul's method. But the Apologists, under the influence of their philosophy rather than of their religion, start from the cosmological aspect of the problem. They engraft upon an Apostolic (Johannine) title of the Saviour an Alexandrine group of associations: they go far towards transmuting the Word of St. John to the Logos of Philo and the Eclectics. Hence their view of His Divinity and of his relation to the Father is embarrassed. His eternity and His generation are felt to be hardly compatible: His distinct Personality is maintained at the expense of His true Divinity. He is God, and not the One God; He can manifest Himself (Theophanies) in a way the One God cannot; He is an intermediary between God and the world. The question has become philosophical rather than directly religious, and philosophy cannot solve it. But on the other hand, Justin was no Arian. If he was Philosopher, he was also Martyr. The Apologists are deeply saturated with Christian piety and personal enthusiastic devotion to Christ. Justin in particular introduces us, as no other so early writer, into the life, the worship, the simple faith of the Primitive Church, and we can trace in him influences of the deeper theology of Asia Minor (Loofs, p. 72 sq. but see more fully the noble article on Justin in D.C.B. vol. iii.). But our concern is with their influence on the analysis of the object of faith; and here we see that unconsciously they have severed the Incarnate Son from the Eternal Father: not God (d ontwj qeoj) but a subordinate divine being is revealed in Christ: the Logos, to adopt the words of Ignatius, is no longer a true breach of the Divine Silence.

We must now glance at the important period of developed Catholicism marked especially by the names of Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Clement, the period of a consolidated organisation, a (relatively) fixed Canon of the New Testament, and a catholic rule of faith (see above, and Lumby, Creeds, ch. i.; Heurtley, Harmonia Symbolica, i.-viii.). The problem of the period which now begins (180-250) was that of Monarchianism; the Divinity of Christ must be reconciled with the Unity of God. Monarchianism is in itself the expression of the truth common to all monotheism, that the arxh or Originative Principle is strictly and Personally One and one only (in contrast to the plurality of arxikai utostaseij, see Newman, Arians p. 112 note). No Christian deliberately maintains the contrary. The Apologists, as we have seen, tended to emphasise the distinction of Father and Son; but this tendency makes of necessity in the direction of `subordination;' and any distinction of `Persons' or Hypostases in the Godhead involves to a Monotheist some subordination, in order to save the principle of the Divine Monarchia.' The Monarchian denied any subordination or distinction of hypostases within the Godhead. This tendency we have now to follow up. We do not meet with it as a problem in Irenaes. (He `is said to have written against it,' Newman, Ar. , p. 117, citing Dodw. in Iren.) This scholar of pupils of Apostles stands in the lines of the Asiatic theology. He is the successor of Iguatius and Polycarp. We find him, in sharp contrast to the Apologists, giving full expression to the revelation of God in Jesus (the `Son is the Measure of the Father, for He contains Him'), and the union of man with God in the Saviour, as the carrying out of the original destiny of man, by the destruction of sin, which had for the time frustrated it (III. xviii. p. 211, Deus antiquam hominis plasmationem in se recapitulans). Hence the `deification' of man's nature by union with Christ (a remarkable point of contact with Athanasius, see note on de Incar. 54. 3); incorruption is attained to by the knowledge of God (cf. John xvii. 3) through faith (IV. xx.); we cannot comprehend God, but we learn to know Him by His Love (ib.). At the same time we trace the influence of the Apologists here and there in his Christology (III. 6, 19, and the explanation of the `Theophanies,' iv. 20). But in his younger contemporary Tertullian, the reaction of Monarchianism makes itself felt. He is himself one of the Apologists, and at the same time under Asiatic influences. The two trains of influence converge in the name Trinitas, which he is the first to use (triaj first in the Asiatic Apologist Theophilus). In combating the Monarchian Praxeas (see below) he carries subordinationism very far (cf. Hermog. 3. `fuit tempus cum Ei filius non fuit'), he distinguishes the Word as `rationalis deus' from eternity, and `sermonalis' not from eternity (cf. again, Theophilus, supra). The Generation of the Son is a trobolh (also `eructare' from Ps. xlv. 1), but the divine `Substance' remains the same (river and fountain, sun and ray, Prax. 8, 9). He aims at reconciling `subordination' with the `Monarchia,' (ib. 4). In the Incarnate Christ he distinguishes the divine and human as accurately as Leo the Great (ib. 27, 29). In spite of inconsistencies such as were inevitable in his strange individuality (Stoic, philosopher, lawyer, Apologist, `Asiatic' theologian, Catholic, Montanist) we see in Tertullian the starting-point of Latin Theology (but see also Harnack ii. 287 note).

We must now examine more closely the history of Monarchian tendencies, and firstly in Rome. The sub-Apostolic Church, simply holding the Divinity of Christ and the Unity of God, used language (see above) which may be called `naively Monarchian.' This holds good even of Asiatic theology, as we find it in its earlier stage. The baptismal creed (as we find it in the primitive basis of the Apostles' Creed) does not solve the problem thus presented to Christian reflexion. Monarchianism attempted the solution in two ways. Either the One God was simply identified with the Christ of the Gospels and the Creeds, the Incarnation being a mode of the Divine manifestation (Father as Creator, Son as Redeemer, Spirit as Sanctifier, or the like): `Modalism' or Modalistic Monarchianism (including Patripassianism, Sabellianism, and later on the theology of Marcellus); or (this being felt incompatible with the constant personal distinction of Christ from the Father) a special effluence, influence, or power of the one God was conceived of as residing in the man Jesus Christ, who was accordingly Son of God by adoption, God by assimilation: `dynamic' Monarchianism or Adoptionism (`Son' and `Spirit' not so much modes of the Divine self-realisation as of the Divine Action). This letter, the echo but not the direct survival of Ebionism, was later on the doctrine of Photinus; we shall find it exemplified in Paul of Samosata; but our present concern is with its introduction at Rome by the two Theodoti, the elder of whom (a tanner from Byzantium) was excommunicated by Bishop Victor, while the younger, a student of the Peripatetic philosophy and grammatical interpreter of Scripture, taught there in the time of Zephyrinus. A later representative of this school, Artemon, claimed that its opinions were those of the Roman bishops down to Victor (Eus. H.E. v. 28). This statement cannot be accepted seriously; but it appears to be founded on a real reminiscence of an epoch in the action and teachings of the Roman bishops at the time. It must be remembered that the two forms of Monarchianism-modalism and adoptionism-are, while very subtly distinguished in their essential principle, violently opposed in their appearance to the popular apprehension. Their doctrine of God is one, at least in its strict unitarianism; but while to the Modalist Christ is the one God, to the Adoptionist He is essentially and exclusively man¹⁴ In the one case His Personality is divine, in the other human. Now there is clear proof of a strong Modalist tendency¹⁵ in the Roman Church at this time; this would manifest itself in especial zeal against the doctrine of such men as Theodotus the younger, and give some colour to the tale of Artemon. Both Tertullian and Hippolytus complain bitterly of the ignorance of those responsible for the ascendancy which this teaching acquired in Rome (Zefurinon anora idiwhn kai aeiron twn ekklhsiastikwn prwn, Hipp. `idiotes quisque aut perversus,' `simplices, ne dicam imprudentes et idiotoe.' Tert.). The utterances of Zephyrinus support this: `I believe in one God, Jesus Christ' (Hipp., see above on the language of the sub-Apost. Church). The Monarchian influences were strengthened by the arrival of fresh teachers from Asia (Cleomenes and Epigonus, see note 2) and began to arouse lively opposition. This was headed by Hippolytus, the most learned of the Roman presbytery, and eventually bishop¹⁶ in opposition to Callistus, the successor of Zephyrinus. The theology of Hippolytus was not unlike that of Tertullian, and was hotly charged by Callistus with `Ditheism.' The position of Callistus himself, like that of his predecessor, was one of compromise between the two forms of Monarchianism, but somewhat more developed. A distinction was made between `Christ' (the divine) and Jesus (the human); the latter suffered actually, the former indirectly (`filius patitur, pater vero compatitur.' (Tert.) ton Iiatera sumteon5enai tw niw, Hipp.; it is clear that under `Praxeas' Tertullian is combating also the modified Praxeanism of Callistus. See adv. Prax. 27, 29; Hipp. ix. 7); not without reason does Hippolytus charge Callistus with combining the errors of Sabellius with those of Theodotus. The compromise of Callistus was only partially successful. On the one hand the strictly modalist Sabellius, who from about 215 takes the place of Cleomenes at the head of Roman Monarchianism (his doctrine of the uiopatwr, of the Trinity as successive proswpa, `aspects,' of the One God, pure modalism as defined above) scorned compromise (he constantly reproached Callistus with having changed his front, Hipp.) was excommunicated, and became the head of a sect. And the fierce opposition of Hippolytus failed to command the support of more than a limited circle of enthusiastic admirers, or to maintain itself after his death. On the other hand (the process is quite in obscurity: see Harnack 1 , p. 620) the theology of Hippolytus and Tertullian eventually gained the day. Novatian, whose `grande volumen' (Jer.) on the Trinity represents the theology of Rome about 250 a.d., simply `epitomises Tertullian,' and that in explanation of the Rule of Faith. As to the Generation of the Son, he drops the `quando Ipse [Pater] voluit' of Tertullian, but like him combines a (modified) `subordination' with the `communio substantiae'-in other words the omoousion. Monarchianism was condemned in the West; its further history belongs to the East (under the name of Sabellianism first in Libya: see pp. 173, sqq.). But the hold which it maintained upon the Roman Church for about a generation (190-220) left its mark. Rome condemned Origen, the ally of Hippolytus; Rome was invoked against Dionysius of Alexandria; (Rome and) the West formulated the omoouoion at Nicaea; Rome received Marcellus; Rome rejected the treij upostaseij and supported the Eustathians at Antioch; it was with Rome rather than with the prevalent theology of the East that Athanasius felt himself one. (Cf. also Harnack, Dg. 1 , p. 622 sqq.) Monarchianism was too little in harmony with the New Testament, or with the traditional convictions of the Churches, to live as a formulated theology. The `naive modalism' of the `simplices quae major semper pars credentium est' (Tert.) was corrected as soon as the attempt was made to give it formal expression¹⁷ . But the attempt to do so was a valuable challenge to the conception of God involved in the system of the Apologists. To their abstract, transcendent, philosophical first Principle, Monarchianism opposed a living, self-revealing, redeeming God, made known in Christ. This was a great gain. But it was obtained at the expense of the divine immutability. A God who passed through phases or modes, now Father, now Son, now Spirit, a God who could suffer, was not the God of the Christians. There is some justice in Tertullian's scoff at their `Deum versipellem.'

The third great name associated with the end of the second century, that of Clement, is important to us chiefly as that of the teacher of Origen, whose influence we must now attempt to estimate. Origen (185-254) was the first theologian in the full sense of the term; the first, that is, to erect upon the basis of the rule of faith (Preface to de Princ.) a complete theological system, synthesising revealed religion with a theory of the Universe, of God, of man, which should take into account the entire range of truth and knowledge, of faith and philosophy. And in this sense for the Eastern Church he was the last theologian as well. In the case of Origen the Vincentian epigram, absolvuntur magistri condemnantur discipuli (too often applicable in the history of doctrine) is reversed. In a modified form his theology from the first took possession of the Eastern Church; in the Cappadocian fathers it took out a new lease of power, in spite of many vicissitudes it conquered opposing forces (the sixth general council crushed the party who had prevailed at the fifth); John of Damascus, in whom the Eastern Church says its last word, depends upon the Origenist theology of Basil and the Gregories. But this theology was Origenism with a difference. What was the Origenism of Origen? To condense into the compass of our present purpose the many-sidedness of Origen is a hopeless task. The reader will turn to the fifth and sixth of Bigg's Bampton Lectures for the best recent presentation; to Newman's Arians (I. §3), especially the `apology' at the end); to Harnack (ed. 1, pp. 510-556) and Loofs (§28); Shedd (vol. i. 288-305, should be read before Bigg and corrected by him) and Dorner; to the sections in Bull (Defens. ii. 9, iii. 3) and Petavius (who in Trin. I. iv. pursues with fluent malignity `omnigenis errorum portentis infamem scriptorem'); to the Origeniana of Huet and the dissertations of the standard editors; to the article Origenist Controversies , and to the comprehensive, exact, and sympathetic article Origen in the Dictionary of Christian Biography. The fundamental works of Origen for our purpose are the de Principiis, the contra Celsum, and the de Oratione; but the exegetical works are necessary to fill out and correct first impressions.

The general position of Origen with regard to the Person of Christ is akin to that of Hippolytus and Tertullian. It is to some extent determined by opposition to Gnosticism and to Monarchianism. His visit to Rome (Eus. H. E., vi. 14) coincided with the battle of Hippolytus against Zephyrinus and his destined successor: on practical as well as on doctrinal points he was at one with Hippolytus. His doctrine of God is reached by the soteriological rather than the cosmological method. God is known to us in the Incarnate Word; `his point of view is moral, not ...pseudo-metaphysical.' The impassibility of the abstract philosophical idea of God is broken into by `the passion of Love' (Bigg, p. 158). In opposition to the perfection of God lies the material world, conditioned by evil, the result of the exercise of will. This cause of evil is antecedent to the genesis of the material universe, the katabolhkosmou; materiality is the penalty and measure of evil. (This part of Origen's doctrine is markedly Platonic. Plotinus, we read, refused to observe his own birthday; in like manner Origen quaintly notes that only wicked men are recorded in Scripture to have kept their birthdays; Bigg, 203, note; cf. Harnack, p. 523, note.) The soul (yuxh as if from yucesqai) has in a previous state `waxed cold,' i.e. lost its original integrity, and in this condition enters the body, i.e. `is subjected to vanity' in common with the rest of the creature, and needs redemption (qualify this by Bigg, pp. 202 sqq., on Origen's belief in Original Sin). To meet this need the Word takes a Soul (but one that has never swerved from Him in its pre-existent state: on this antinomy Bigg, 190, note, 199) and mediante Anima, or rather mediante hac substantia animae (Prin. II. vi.) unites the nature of God and of Man in One. (On the union of the two natures in the qeanqrwpoj, in Ezek. iii. 3, he is as precise as Tertullian: we find the Hypostatic Union and Communicatio Idiomatum formally explicit; Bigg, 190.) The Word `deifies' Human Nature, first His Own, then in others as well (Cels. iii. 28, ina genhttui qeia: he does not use qeopoiesqai; the thought is subtly but really different from that which we found in Irenaeus: see Harnack, p. 551), by that perfect apprehension of Him oper hn prin genhtai sarc, of which faith in the Incarnate is the earliest but not the final stage (applying 2 Cor. v. 16; cf. the Commentary on the Song of Songs).

What account then does Origen give of the beginning and the end of the great Drama of existence? He starts from the end, which is the more clearly revealed; `God shall be all in all.' But `the end must be like the beginning;' One is the end of all, One is the beginning. From 1 Cor. xv. he works back to Romans viii.: the one is his key to the eternity after, the other, to the eternity before (Bigg pp. 193 sq.). Into this scheme he brings creation, evil, the history of Revelation, the Church and its life, the final consummation of all things. The Universe is eternal: God is prior to it in conception, yet He was never other than Creator. But in the history of the Universe the material world which we know is but a small episode. It began, and will end. It began with the estrangement of Will from God, will end with its reconciliation: God, from Whom is the beginning of all, `will be all in all.' (For Origen's eschatology see Bigg, 228-234.) From this point of view we must approach the two-sided Christology of Origen. To him the two sides were aspects of the same thing: but if the subtle presupposition as to God and the Universe is withdrawn, they become alternative and inconsistent Christologies, as we shall see to have actually happened. As God is eternally Creator, so He is eternally Father (Bigg, 160, note). The Son proceeds from Him not as a part of His Essence, but as the Ray from the Light; it cannot be rightly or piously said that He had a beginning, hn ote ouk hn (cf. De Princ. i. 2, iv. 28, and infr. p. 168); He is begotten from the Essence of the Father, He is of the same essence (omoousioj) (Fragm. 3 in Heb., but see Bigg, p. 179), there is no unlikeness whatever between the Son and the Father (Princ. i. 2, 12). He was begotten ek ton qelhmatoj tou Patroj (but to Origen the qelhma was inherent in the Divine Nature, cf. Bigg. 161, Harnack, p. 534 against Shedd, p. 301, note) not by probolh or emanation (Princ. iv. 28, i. 2. 4), as though the Son's generation were something that took place once for all, instead of existing continuously. The Father is in the Son, the Son in the Father: there is `coinherence.' On the other hand, the Word is God derivatively not absolutely, =O logoj hn proj ton Qeon, kai Q eoj hn o Logoj. The Son is Qeoj, the Father alone o Qeoj. He is of one ousia with the Father as compared with the creatures; but as contrasted with the Father, Who may be regarded as epekeina ousiaj¹⁸ , and Who alone is autoqeoj, autoagaqoj, alhqinoj qeoj, the Son is o detueroj qeoj (Cels. v. 39, cf. Philo's deutereuwn qeoj). As the Son of God, He is contrasted with all gentha; as contrasted with the Ingenerate Father, He stands at the head of the series of gennhta; He is metacu thj tou agen!n@htou kai thj twn yenhtwn fusewj¹⁹ . He even explains the Unity of the Father and the Son as moral (duo th upostasei pragmata en de th omo/oia kai th tautothti tou boulhmatoj, Cels. viii. 12). The Son takes His place even in the cosmic process from Unity to Unity through Plurality, `God is in every respect One and Simple, but the Saviour by reason of the Many becomes Many' (on John i. 22, cf. Index to this vol., s.v. Christ). The Spirit is subordinated to the Son, the Son to the Father (elattwn para ton patera o uioj ...eti de htton to pneuma to agion; Princ. I. 3, 5 Gk.), while to the Spirit are subordinated created spirits, whose goodness is relative in comparison with God, and the fall of some of whom led to the creation of matter (see above). Unlike the Son and the Spirit they are mutable in will, subject to prokoph, capable of embodiment even if in themselves immaterial.

The above slender sketch of the leading thoughts of Origen will suffice to show how intimately his doctrine of the Person of Christ hangs together with his philosophy of Religion and Nature. That philosophy is the philosophy of his age, and must be judged relatively. His deeply religious, candid, piercing spirit embodies the highest effort of the Christian intellect conditioned by the categories of the best thought of his age. Everywhere, while evading no difficulty, his strenuous speculative search is steadied by ethical and religious instinct. As against Valentinian and the Platonists, with both of whom he is in close affinity, he inexorably insists on the self-consciousness and moral nature of God, on human freewill. As against all contemporary non-Christian thought his system is pure monism. Yet the problem of evil, in which he merges the anti-thesis of matter and spirit, brings with it a necessary dualism, a dualism, however, which belongs but to a moment in the limitless eternity of God's all-in-allness before and after. Is he then a pantheist? No, for to him God is Love (in Ezek. vi. 6), and the rational creature is to be made divine and united to God by the reconciliation of Will and by conscious apprehension of Him. The idea of Will is the pivot of Origen's system, the centripetal force which forbids it to follow the pantheistic line which it yet undoubtedly touches. The `moral' unity of the Father and the Son (see above, tautothj boulhmatoj and ek tou qelhmatoj) is Unity in that very respect in which the Creator stands over against the self-determining rational creature. Yet the immutability, the Oneness of God, must be reconciled with the plurality, the mutability of the creature; here the Logos mediates; dia ta polla ginetai polla: but this must be from eternity:-accordingly creation is eternal too. Here we see that the cosmological idea has prevailed over the religious, the Logos of Origen is still in important particulars the Logos of the Apologists, of Philo and the philosophers. The difference lies in His co-eternity, upon which Origen insists without wavering. The resemblance lies in the intermediate²⁰ position ascribed to Him between the agenntoj, (o Qeoj), and the genhta; He is, as Hypostasis, subordinate to the Father.

Now it is evident that the mere intellectual apprehension of a system which combines so many opposite tendencies, which touches every variety of the theological thought of the age (even modalism, for to Origen the Father is the Mon/aj, the autoqeoj, while yet He is no abstraction but a God who exists in moral activity, supra) and subtly harmonises them all, must have involved no ordinary philosophical power. When we add to this fact the further consideration that precisely the fundamental ideas of Origen were those which called forth the liveliest opposition and were gradually dropped by his followers, we can easily understand that in the next generation Origenism was no longer either the system of Origen, or a single system at all.

In one direction it could lend itself to no compromise; in spite of the justice done by Origen to the fundamental ideas both of modalism and of emanative adoptionism (cf. Harnack, pp. 548, note, and 586), to Monarchianism in either form he is diametrically opposed. The hypostatic distinctness of Son and Spirit is once for all made good for the theology of Eastern Christendom. We see his disciples exterminate Monarchianism in the East. On the left wing Dionysius refutes the Sabellians of Libya, on the right Gregory Thaumaturgus, Firmilian, and their brethren, after a long struggle, oust the adoptionist Paul from the See of Antioch. But its influence on the existing Catholic theology, however great (and in the East it was very great), inevitably made its way in the face of opposition, and at the cost of its original subtle consistency. The principal opposition came from Asia Minor, where the traditions of theological thought (see above, on Ignatius and Irenaeus, below on Marcellus) were not in sympathy²¹ with Origen. We cannot demonstrate the existence of a continuous theological school in Asia; but Methodius (270-300) certainly speaks with the voice of Ignatius and Irenaeus. He deals with Origen much as Irenaeus dealt with the Gnostics, defending against him the current sense of the regula fidei, and especially the literal meaning of Scripture, the origination of the soul along with the body, the resurrection of the body in the material sense, and generally opposing realism to the spiritualism of Origen. But in thus opposing Origen, Methodius is not uninfluenced by him (see Socr. vi. 13). He, too, is a student of Plato (with `little of his style or spirit'); his `realism' is `speculative.' He no longer defends the Asiatic Chiliasm, his doctrine of the Logos is coloured by Origen as that of Irenaeus was by the Apologists. The legacy of Methodius and of his Origenist contemporaries to the Eastern Church was a modified Origenism, that is a theology systematised on the intellectual basis of the Platonic philosophy, but expurgated by the standard of the regula fidei. This result was a compromise, and was at first attended with great confusion. Origen's immediate following seized some one side, some another of his system; some were more, some less influenced by the `orthodox' reaction against his teaching. We may distinguish an Origenist `right' and an Origenist `left.' If the Origenist view of the Universe was given up, the coeternity of the Son and Spirit with the Father was less firmly grasped. Origen had, if we may use the expression, `levelled up.' The Son was mediator between the Ingenerate God and the created, but eternal Universe. If the latter was not eternal, and if at the same time the Word stood in some essential correlation to the creative energy of God, Origen's system no longer implied the strict coeternity of the Word. Accordingly we find Dionysius (see below, p. 173 sqq.) uncertain on this point, and on the essential relation of the Son to the Father. More cautious in this respect, but tenacious of other startling features of Origen, were Pierius and Theognostus, who presided over the Catechetical School at the end of the century²² .

On the other hand, very many of Origen's pupils, especially among the bishops, started from the other side of Origen's teaching, and held tenaciously to the coeternity of the Son, while they abandoned the Origenist `paradoxes' with regard to the Universe, matter, pre-existence, and restitution. Typical of this class is Gregory Thaumaturgus, also Peter the martyr bishop of Alexandria, who expressly opposed many of Origen's positions (though hardly with the violence ascribed to him in certain supposed fragments in Routh, Rell. iv. 81) and Alexander himself. It was this `wing' of the Origenist following that, in combination with the opposition represented by Methodius, bequeathed to the generation contemporary with Nicaea its average theological tone. The coeternity of the Son with the Father was not (as a rule) questioned, but the essential relation of the Logos to the Creation involved a strong subordination of the Son to the Father, and by consequence of the Spirit to the Son. Monarchianism was the heresy most dreaded, the theology of the Church was based on the philosophical categories of Plato applied to the explanation and systematisation of the rule of faith. This was very far from Arianism. It lacked the logical definiteness of that system on the one hand, it rested on the other hand on a different conception of God; the hypostatic subordination of the Son was insisted upon, but His true Sonship as of one Nature with the Father, was held fast. In the slow process of time this neo-Asiatic theology found its way partly to the Nicene formula, partly to the illogical acceptance of it with regard to the Son, with refusal to apply it to the Spirit (Macedonius). To the men who thought thus, the blunt assertion that the Son was a creature, not coeternal, alien to the Essence of the Father, was a novelty, and wholly abhorrent. Arius drew a sharper line than they had been accustomed to draw between God and the creature; so did Athanasius. But Arius drew his line without flinching between the Father and the Son. This to the instinct of any Origenist was as revolting as it would have been to the clear mind and Biblical sympathy of Origen himself. In theological and philosophical principles alike Arius was opposed even to the tempered Origenism of the Nicene age. The latter was at the furthest remove from Monarchianism, Arianism was in its essential core Monarchian; the common theology borrowed its philosophical principles and method from the Platonists, Arius from Aristotle. To anticipate, Arianism and (so-called) semi-Arianism have in reality very little in common except the historical fact of common action for a time. Arianism guarded the transcendence of the divine nature (at the expense of revelation and redemption) in a way that `semi-Arianism,' admitting as it did inherent inequality in the Godhead, did not. They therefore tended in opposite directions; Arianism to Anomoeanism, `semi-Arianism' to the Nicene faith; their source was different. `Aristotle made men Arians,' says Newman with truth, `Plato, semi-Arians' (Arians , p. 335, note): but to say this is to allow that if Arianism goes back to Lucian and so to Paul of Samosata, semi-Arianism is a fragment from the wreck of Origen.

The Origenist bishops of Syria and Asia Minor had in the years 269-272, after several efforts, succeeded in deposing Paul of Samosata from the See of Antioch. This remarkable man was the ablest pre-Nicene representative of Adoptionist Monarchianism. The Man Jesus was inhabited by the `Word,' i.e. by an impersonal power of God, distinct from the Logoj or reason (wisdom) inherent in God as an attribute, which descended upon him at His Baptism. His union with God, a union of Will, was unswerving, and by virtue of it He overcame the sin of mankind, worked miracles, and entered on a condition of Deification. He is God ek prokophj (cf. Luke ii. 52) by virtue of progress in perfection. That is in brief the system of Paul, and we cannot wonder at his deposition. For the striking points of contact with Arianism (two `Wisdoms,' two `Words,' prokoph: cf. Orat. c. Ar. i. 5, &c.) we have to account²³ . The theology of Arius is a compromise between the Origenist doctrine of the Person of Christ and the pure Monarchian Adoptionism of Paul of Samosata; or rather it engrafts the former upon the latter as the foundation principle, seriously modifying each to suit the necessity of combining the two. This compromise was not due to Arius himself but to his teacher, Lucian the Martyr. A native himself of Samosata, he stood in some relation of attachment (not clearly defineable) to Paul. Under him, he was at the head of a critical, exegetical, and theological school at Antioch. Upon the deposition of Paul he appears not so much to have been formally excommunicated as to have refused to acquiesce in the new order of things. Under Domnus and his two successors, he was in a state of suspended communion²⁴ ; but eventually was reconciled with the bishop (Cyril?) and died as a martyr at Nicomedia, Jan. 7, 312. The latter fact, his ascetic life, and his learning secured him widespread honour in the Church; his pupils formed a compact and enthusiastic brotherhood, and filled many of the most influential Sees after the persecution. That such a man should be involved in the reproach of having given birth to Arianism is an unwelcome result of history, but one not to be evaded²⁵ . The history of the Lucianic compromise and its result in the Lucianic type of theology, are both matters of inference rather than of direct knowledge. As to the first, whatever evidence there is connects Lucian's original position with Paul. His reconciliation with Bishop Cyril must have involved a reapproachment to the formula of the bishops who deposed Paul,-a thoroughly Origenist document. We may therefore suppose that the identification of Christ with the Logos, or cosmic divine principle, was adopted by him from Origenist sources. But he could not bring himself to admit that He was thus essentially identified with God the eternal; he held fast to the idea of prokoph as the path by which the Lord attained to Divinity; he distinguished the Word or Son who was Christ from the immanent impersonal Reason or Wisdom of God, as an offspring of the Father's Will, an idea which he may have derived straight from Origen, with whom of course it had a different sense. For to Origen Will was the very essence of God; Lucian fell back upon an arid philosophical Monotheism, upon an abstract God fenced about with negations (Harnack 2²⁶ , 195, note) and remote from the Universe. It was counted a departure from Lucian's principles if a pupil held that the Son was the `perfect Image of the Father's Essence' (Philost. ii. 15); Origen's formula, `distinct in hypostasis, but one in will,' was apparently exploited in a Samosatene sense to express the relation of the Son to the Father. The only two points in fact in which Lucian appears to have modified the system of Paul were, firstly in hypostatising the Logos, which to Paul was an impersonal divine power, secondly in abandoning Paul's purely human doctrine of the historical Christ. To Lucian, the Logos assumed a body (or rather 'Deus sapientiam suam misit in hunc mundum carne vestitam, ubi infra, p. 6), but itself took the place of a soul²⁷ ; hence all the tapeinai leceij of the Gospels applied to the Logos as such, and the inferiority and essential difference of the Son from the Father rigidly followed.

The above account of Lucian is based on that of Harnack, Dogmg. ii. 184, sqq. It is at once in harmony with all our somewhat scanty data (Alexander, Epiphanius, Philostorgius, and the fragment of his last confession of faith preserved by Rufin. in Eus. H. E. ix. 9, Routh, Rell. iv. pp. 5-7, from which Harnack rightly starts) and is the only one which accounts for the phenomena of the rise of Arianism. We find a number of leading Churchmen in agreement with Arius, but in no way dependent on him. They are Eusebius of Nicomedia, Maris, Theognis, Athanasius of Anazarba, Menophantus; all Lucianists. The first Arian writer, Asterius (see below), is a Lucianist. (The Egyptian bishops Secundus and Theonas cannot be put down to any school; we do not know their history; but they are distinguished from the Lucianists by Philost. ii. 3.) It has been urged that, although Arius brought away heresy from the school of Lucian, yet he was not the only one that did so. True; but then the heresy was all of the same kind (list of pupils of Lucian in Philost. ii. 14, iii. 15). Aetius, the founder of logical ultra-Arianism and teacher of Eunomius, was taught the exegesis of the New Testament by the Lucianists Athanasius of Anazarba and Antony of Tarsus, of the Old by the Lucianist Leontius. This fairly covers the area of Arianism proper. But it may be noted that some Origenists of the `left wing,' whose theology emphasized the subordination, and vacillated as to the eternity of the Son, would find little to shock them in Arianism (Eusebius of Caesarea, Paulinus of Tyre), while on the other hand there are traces of a Lucianist `right wing,' men like Asterius, who while essentially Arian, made concessions to the `conservative' position chiefly by emphasising the cosmic mediation of the Word and His `exact likeness' to the Father²⁸ . The Theology of the Eastern Church was suffering from the effort to assimilate the Origenist theology: it could not do so without eliminating the underlying and unifying idea of Origenism; this done, the overwhelming influence of the great teacher remained, while dissonant fragments of his system, vaguely comprehended in many cases, permeated some here, some there²⁹ . Meanwhile the school of Lucian had a method and a system; they knew their own minds, and relied on reason and exegesis. This was the secret of their power. Had Arius never existed, Arianism must have tried its strength under such conditions. But the age was ready for Arius; and Arius was ready. The system of Arius was in effect that of Lucian: its formulation appears to have been as much the work of Asterius as of Arius himself. (Cf. p. 155, §8, o de Ar. metagrayaj dedwke toij idioij. The extant writings of Arius are his letters to Eus. Nic. and to Alexander, preserved by Theodoret and Epiph. Haer. 69, and the extracts from the `Thalia' in Ath., pp. 308-311, 457, 458; also the `confession' in Socr. i. 26, Soz. ii. 27. Cf. also references to his dicta in Ath. pp. 185, 229, &c.) Arius started from the idea of God and the predicate `Son.' God is above all things uncreated, or unoriginate, agen!n@htoj, (the ambiguity of the derivatives of gennasqai and genesqa; are a very important element in the controversy. See p. 475, note 5, and Lightfoot, Ignat. ii. p. 90 sqq.) Everything else is created, genhton. The name `Son' implies an act of procreation. Therefore, before such act, there was no Son, nor was God properly speaking a Father. The Son is not coeternal with Him. He was originated by the Father's will, as indeed were all things. He is, then, twn genhtwn, He came into being from non-existence (ec ouk ontwn), and before that did not exist (ouk hn prin genhtai). But His relation to God differs from that of the Universe generally. Created nature cannot bear the awful touch of bare Deity. God therefore created the Son that He in turn might be the agent in the Creation of the Universe-`created Him as the beginning of His ways,' (Prov. viii. 22, LXX.). This being so, the nature of the Son was in the essential point of agennhsia unlike that of the Father; (cenoj tou uiou kat ousian o Pathr oti anarxoj): their substances (upostaseij) are anepimiktoi,-have nothing in common. The Son therefore does not possess the fundamental property of sonship, identity of nature with the Father. He is a Son by Adoption, not by Nature; He has advanced by moral probation to be Son, even to be monogenhj qeoj (Joh. i. 14). He is not the eternal Logoj, reason, of God, but a Word (and God has spoken many): but yet He is the Word by grace; is no longer, what He is by nature, subject to change. He cannot know the Father, much less make Him known to others. Lastly, He dwells in flesh, not in full human nature (see above, p. xxviii. and note 2). The doctrine of Arius as to the Holy Spirit is not recorded, but probably He was placed between the Son and the other ktismata (yet see Harnack ii. 199, note 2).

Arian Literature. Beside the above-mentioned letters and fragments of Arius, our early Arian documents are scanty. Very important is the letter of Eus. Nic. to Paulinus, referred to above, (1), pp. xvi., xviii., other fragments of letters, p. 458 sq. The writings³⁰ of Asterius, if preserved, would have been an invaluable source of information³¹ . Asterius seems to have written before the Nicene Council; he may have modified his language in later treatises. He was replied to by Marcellus in a work which brought him into controversy (336) with Eusebius of Caesarea. With the creeds and Arian literature after the death of Constantine we are not at present concerned.

Arianism was a novelty. Yet it combines in an inconsistent whole elements of almost every previous attempt to formulate the doctrine of the Person of Christ. Its sharpest antithesis was Modalism: yet with the modalist Arius maintained the strict personal unity of the Godhead. With dynamic monarchianism it held the adoptionist principle in addition; but it personified the Word and sacrificed the entire humanity of Christ. In this latter respect it sided with the Docetae, most Gnostics, and Manichaeans, to all of whom it yet opposes a sharply-cut doctrine of creation and of the transcendence of God. With Origen and the Apologists before him it made much of the cosmic mediation of the Word in contrast to the redemptive work of Jesus; with the Apologists, though not with Origen, it enthroned in the highest place the God of the Philosophers: but against both alike it drew a sharp broad line between the Creator and the Universe, and drew it between the Father and the Son. Least of all is Arianism in sympathy with the theology of Asia,-that of Ignatius, Irenaeus, Methodius, founded upon the Joannine tradition. The profound Ignatian idea of Christ as the Logoj apo sighj proelqwn is in impressive contrast with the shallow challenge of the Thalia, `Many words hath God spoken, which of these was manifested in the flesh?'

Throughout the controversies of the pre-Nicene age the question felt rather than seen in the background is that of the Idea of God. The question of Monotheism and Polytheism which separated Christians from heathen was not so much a question of abstract theology as of religion, not one of speculative belief, but of worship. The Gentile was prepared to recognise in the background of his pantheon the shadowy form of one supreme God, Father of gods and men, from whom all the rest derived their being. But his religion required the pantheon as well; he could not worship a philosophic supreme abstraction. The Christian on the other hand was prepared in many cases to recognise the existence of beings corresponding to the gods of the heathen (whether 1 Cor. viii. 5 can be quoted here is open to question). But such beings he would not worship. To him, as an object of religion, there was one God. The one God of the heathen was no object of practical personal religion; the One God of the Christian was. He was the God of the Old Testament, the God who was known to His people not under philosophical categories, but in His dealings with them as a Father, Deliverer, He who would accomplish all things for them that waited on Him, the God of the Covenant. He was the God of the New Testament, God in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, manifesting His Righteousness in the Gospel of Christ to whosoever believed. In Christ the Christian learned that God is Love. Now this knowledge of God is essentially religious; it lies in a different plane from the speculative aporiai as to God's transcendence or immanence, while yet it steadies the religious mind in the face of speculations tending either way. A God who is Love, if immanent, must yet be personal, if transcendent, must yet manifest His Love in such a way that we can know it and not merely guess it. Now as Christian instinct began to be forced to reflexion, in other words, as faith began to strive for expression in a theology³² , it could not but be that men, however personally religious, seized hold of religious problems by their speculative side. We have seen this exemplified in the influence of Platonic philosophy on the Apologists and Alexandrine Fathers. But to Origen, with all his Platonism, belongs the honour of enthroning the God of Love at the head and centre of a systematic theology. Yet the theology of the end of the third century assimilated secondary results of Origen's system rather than his underlying idea. On the one hand was the rule of faith with the whole round of Christian life and worship, determining the religious instinct of the Church; on the other, the inability to formulate this instinct in a coherent system so long as the central problem was overlooked or inadequately dealt with. God is One, not more; yet how is the One God to be conceived of, what is His relation to the Universe of genesij and fqora? and the Son is God, and the Spirit; how are they One, and if One how distinct? How do we avoid the relapse into a polytheism of secondary gods? What is-not the essential nature of Godhead, for all agreed that that is beyond our ken-but the prwton hmin, the essential idea for us to begin from if we are to synthesise belief and theology, pistij and gnwsij?

Arianism stepped in with a summary answer. God is one, numerically and absolutely. He is beyond the ken of any created intelligence. Even creation is too close a relation for Him to enter into with the world. In order to create, he must create an instrument (pp. 360 sqq.), intermediate between Himself and all else. This instrument is called Son of God, i.e. He is not coeternal (for what son was ever as old as his parent?), but the result of an act of creative will. How then is He different from other creatures? This is the weak point of the system; He is not really different, but a difference is created by investing Him with every possible attribute of glory and divinity except the possession of the incommunicable nature of deity. He is merely `anointed above His fellows.' His `divinity' is acquired, not original; relative, not absolute; in His character, not in His Person. Accordingly He is, as a creature, immeasurably far from the Creator; He does not know God, cannot declare God to us. The One God remains in His inaccessible remoteness from the creature. But yet Arians worshipped Christ; although not very God, He is God to us. Here we have the exact difficulty with which the Church started in her conflict with heathenism presented again unsolved. The desperate struggle, the hardly earned triumph of the Christians, had been for the sake of the essential principle of heathenism! The One God was, after all, the God of the philosophers; the idea of pagan polytheism was realised and justified in Christ³³ ! To this Athanasius returns again and again (see esp. p. 360); it is the doom of Arianism as a Christian theology.

If Arianism failed to assist the thought of the Church to a solution of the great problem of God, its failure was not less conspicuous with regard to revelation and redemption. The revelation of the Gospel stopped short in the person of Christ, did not go back to the Father. God was not in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, we have access in Christ to a created intelligence, not to the love of God to usward, not to the everlasting Arms, but to a being neither divine nor human. Sinners against heaven and before God, we must accept an assurance of reconciliation from one who does not know Him whom we have offended; the kiss of the Father has never been given to the prodigal. Men have asked how we are justified in ascribing to the infinite God the attributes which we men call good: mercy, justice, love. If Christ is God, the answer lies near; if He is the Christ of Arius, we are left in moral agnosticism. Apart from Christ, the philosophical arguments for a God have their force; they proffer to us an ennobling belief, a grand `perhaps; but the historical inability of Monotheism to retain a lasting hold amon