FROM early ages, pictures and images had been introduced into churches with-out, as far as can be gathered, any thought of their being worshipped. But in the dark ages images were not merely treated as works of art, but foolish tales were related respecting them, and believed: some of them had fallen from heaven; others were declared to have been the work of St. Luke the evangelist. Of a picture it was said that Abgarus, king of Edessa, when in correspondence with our Lord, had commissioned a painter to take the portrait of Christ. But the artist was so dazzled by the glory of the countenance that he could not attempt it, whereupon our Saviour Himself impressed His image on a piece of linen and sent it to the king! This had been hidden for ages, but was said to have been discovered by a vision. Together with these tales of the origin of the images and pictures, went forth a long list of pretended miracles wrought by them.
It can easily be imagined, that if people, ignorant of the scripture, believed all these things, it would be almost natural that they should pay the highest respect to such images and pictures; and that this respect should gradually merge into veneration and worship. Various things were calculated to encourage this: such as burning lights before them, offering incense in honour of them, adorning them with gems and precious metals. Hands were also placed on them when oaths were taken, and they were even employed as sponsors in baptism! To fall down and reverence them, and then to pray to them naturally followed.
We can well believe that many Christians must and did disagree with all this, and many and severe were the conflicts as to the question of images and their worship. It will be seen that, while the above honors were paid to the images, it was perfectly vain to profess that no worship was intended.
An open rupture took place in the East on this subject, when Leo the Isaurian was emperor (A.D. 718-741). On being freed from his enemies he turned his attention to religion. In the sixth year of his reign he issued an edict, that all Jews and Montanists should be baptized. It is recorded that the Jews submitted, but only mocked at the rite: it was nothing to them. Some of the Montanists, however, full of fanaticism, shut themselves up in their meeting-houses, set them on fire, and perished in the flames, as others had done under Justinian.
The next year (A.D. 724) he issued an edict against images. His motives are not known; he could hardly be influenced by a simple motive to purify the church, because of his general character. The storm it raised was great: parties united together to protect their images. A Saracen army was believed to have been driven off by the influence of the images of the city attacked! Who would dare remove images armed with such power?
A usurper was even selected to supplant the impious emperor; but the usurper was no sooner put down than the emperor issued a decree, that all images should now be destroyed, and the painted walls of the churches should be whitewashed.
He then sought the concurrence of Germanus, patriarch of Constantinople. Germanus reminded the emperor that he had promised to make no innovation in religion. It would appear that in a private interview, Germanus had admitted that images should be abolished; but when pressed, he said to the emperor, "Not in your reign."
“In whose reign, then?" demanded the emperor.
“In that of an emperor named Conon, who will be the forerunner of Antichrist."
“Conon," said the emperor, "is my own baptismal name."
Germanus argued that images were not meant to represent the Trinity, but the Incarnation. That Old Testament prohibitions were no longer in force since Christ appeared in human form, and referred to the reputed Edessan impression of our Lord's countenance, and to the pictures painted by St. Luke. No council had condemned them, and he could make no innovation on the faith. He resigned rather than subscribe the new edict.
The emperor proceeded to carry out his edict. Over the brazen gate of the palace was a noted statue of the Saviour, called the Surety. Many tales were told of this image, and it was much esteemed. A soldier was sent to destroy it; but when, mounted on a ladder, he struck the face with an axe, a number of women who had gathered around, and had intreated him to spare the image, pulled over the ladder and killed the man, and "tore his body to pieces," says an historian. Men now joined the women, and they rushed to the house of the new patriarch, but he took shelter in the palace. The emperor's guards put down the tumult, but not without much bloodshed. Persecution followed, and many were scourged, mutilated, and banished, especially the monks who would not yield to the emperor.
Beyond the dominion of the emperor, some strongly defended images, perhaps none more so than John of Damascus. He wrote against the emperor's edict, and this caused Leo to seek his destruction. He forged a letter in which John offered to deliver up Damascus to the emperor. This was sent to the Caliph of Damascus, who, without staying to hear any defense, cut off John's right hand. This was exposed in the market-place until evening, when John begged that it might be given him, for he suffered great pain while that hung in the air. On receiving his hand he placed it to his arm, and fell down before an image of the Virgin Mary, praying to her to restore it, as he had lost it in the defense of images, and it should be devoted to her service. He then went to sleep, and in the morning the hand was joined to his arm!
Such is the narrative of his historian. Can it be wondered at when such legends were told respecting the images—and believed—that the images should be respected, prayed to, and adored?
This John of Damascus, in defending the use of images, declared that scripture countenanced images by the instructions for making the cherubim! Also by the words of our Lord as to the tribute-money: that which bears Cæsar's image is Cæsar's, and is to be rendered to him; so that which bears Christ's image is to be rendered to Christ, for it is Christ's. He distinguished between the kind of adoration which should be reserved for God alone, and that which is, for His sake, given to angels, saints, or consecrated things.
He admitted that scripture did not prescribe any veneration for images. Surely this should have been enough for any Christian, especially with the much that is said in scripture against idolatry. And how are poor, simple persons able to distinguish between the kind of worship given to God, and to those images which have been declared able to work miracles?
As Italy was nominally a part of the empire, the edict of Leo was sent thither, but the pope and his clergy would not respect it.
In A.D. 741 Constantine Copronymus succeeded Leo as emperor, and he determined to call a council to settle the question of images. The see of Constantinople was then vacant, and other patriarchs of the East were now under Mahometan rule, so the emperor had to be content with a smaller council of bishops. It met on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus; 338 attended.
The council professed to rest their judgment on the authority of the Fathers, and, relying upon these, they declared all representations made for religious purposes by the art of the painter or sculptor to be presumptuous, pagan, and idolatrous. They, however, declared the lawfulness of invoking the blessed Virgin and the saints.
How strange that so many bishops could meet together on such a subject and not take scripture for their guide! This would have set them right as to invoking the saints, as well as the images. But this was in the dark ages, though, alas! the same thing is done—yea, and images restored in the age that is called enlightened!
Constantine, armed with canons of the council, proceeded to enforce the destruction of images. Most gave way, except the monks, and many of these were cruelly tortured and put to death, and the monasteries turned into barracks. The patriarch gave way to the emperor, but was afterwards treated with the greatest cruelty, and then put to death, on a charge of treason.
In the year 775, while on a military expedition, the emperor was seized with such dreadful pains that he declared that he already felt the pains of hell, and expired. However right the emperor may have been in discountenancing images, there is nothing to justify his cruelty, and nothing to shew that he was really anxious for the purity of the church.
Leo IV was the next emperor. He was opposed to images, but allowed the banished monks to return. His wife Irene took a contrary course, and privately encouraged the introduction of images. Some were found under her pillow, which roused the emperor: he punished those who had introduced the images, and separated from his wife, though she declared her innocence.
Leo IV reigned only four and a half years, and his son being only ten years of age, Irene took the reins of government.
Paul, patriarch of Constantinople, suddenly resigned and entered a monastery. When questioned, he declared that his conscience accused him for having opposed the restoration of images. A successor was sought, and he, Tarasius, would only accept the office on condition that a general council should be called to settle the vexed question of images.
This was agreed to, and a council was called to meet at Constantinople. The pope was invited. He appointed two to appear for Rome, and begged the empress to reverse what the former emperor had done in respect to images; but he did not forget to complain that Tarasius had been styled Ecumenical, a title which only belonged to himself.
As the day approached, those who opposed images began to collect, and threatened Tarasius. There were some bishops among them, and some soldiers. Fearing a tumult, Irene told the patriarch to give way, and the Iconoclasts raised shouts of victory. But the empress did not intend to be thwarted. She let things rest a little while, and then disbanded the soldiers and sent them to their homes. Then, in A.D. 787, she called the council together in Nicæa instead of at the capital.
It was an understood thing from the first that the council was not to investigate the question, but simply to restore the images. A great difficulty was how to treat those bishops who had taken part in the last council against images, and of others who had been consecrated by such persons. The monks cried out for rigour against them as the worst of heretics, but the general voice was for leniency.
The way the bishops defended their decision to re-establish images (and they must for very shame say something) sounds curious to our ears. Appeal to scripture was, of course, never thought of. They quoted the Fathers, or more frequently the legends of the miracles wrought by images, to which some of the bishops added marvels from their own experience.
The use made of the Fathers may be judged of by an example. After a passage had been read from Gregory of Nyssa, in which he tells how he had been affected to tears by a picture of the sacrifice of Isaac, a bishop added: "The father had often read the history, but perhaps without ever weeping; yet, as soon as ever he saw a picture he wept."
“If," said another, "so great a doctor was edified and moved even to tears by a picture, how much would it affect lay and unlearned people?"
“If Gregory wept at a painting of Abraham," said another, "what should we do at one of the incarnate Saviour?"
“Should not we too weep," said Tarasius, "if we saw a picture of the crucifixion?" and his words were received with great applause!
Surely this was all solemn trifling: but worse was to follow. The legates of Rome proposed that an image should be brought into the council and receive the adoration of the assembly. This was done the next day! They then proceeded to read the canons of the council of A.D. 754, and one by one they were said to be refuted, in words declared to be dictated by the Holy Ghost!
In conclusion it was decreed that even as the figure on the cross was honored, so images of the Saviour and blessed Virgin, of angels and of saints, whether painted or mosaic, or any other suitable material, are to be set up for kissing and honorable reverence (προσκύνησιν); but not for real worship (λατρείαν) which belongs to divine nature alone. Incense and lights are to be offered to them, as to the cross, the Gospels, and other holy memorials; "forasmuch as the honour paid to the image passes on to the original, and he who adores an image, adores in it the person of him whom it represents."
This council has been admitted by both the Greeks and the Latins to be the Seventh General Council. It is to be observed that the canon refers only to pictures or flat representations, not images; and to this the Greek church has limited itself to this day.
We thus see how the worship of images was solemnly ordained in a council of the church. It is in vain that we are now told that images are not worshipped. An image was adored in the council itself, and the council itself declared that the veneration paid to an image passed to the, person represented. Alas, that scripture should be thus utterly rejected, and men's thoughts set up in place thereof. We also see to how low a standard that which is called worship had fallen in those days. It could be given to a picture of our Lord, or even to one of the saints!
The reader will be interested to learn that the word chosen by the council to designate the sort of worship to be given to images is the word used in Matt. 4:10: " Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve." It is also used in John 4, when our Lord was speaking to the woman of Samaria. Also in Rev. 19:10: "Worship God;" and in other places.
The pope (Adrian) was pleased with the restoration of images, and sent the canons of the council to Charlemagne. But they were ill received in France. The king sent the canons to Alcuin, who was then in England, for his examination. His judgment was against images. Alcuin wrote against them, and four books written by him and others on the subject, were put forth in the name of the king. They are known as “The Caroline Books."
These books boldly called in question the authority of the council, saying it was not universal. They blamed the council for listening to stories of a fabulous character, and refuted in detail all the statements put forth. Still the conclusion went no further than that the worship of images was not to be enforced: images were to be allowed and were not to be broken. A council was now called by Charlemagne, to meet at Frankfort in 794, at which, among other things, the enforced worship of images was condemned; but, as the images were not removed, it is easy to see that the clergy, where so disposed, could encourage their worship.
In the East, however, the question of the restoration of images was not finally settled, notwithstanding that the council of Nice had decided in their favour. Leo V, the Armenian, became emperor in 813, and was opposed to images. He requested the attendance of Nicephorus the patriarch to hear all he had to say in their favour. Nicephorus introduced one, Theodore, an abbot of a famous monastery, who argued that images were not merely for the unlearned, but were necessary for the most advanced Christian; and that a reverence for them was necessary for the right faith in the Incarnation; impiously adding that if images were suppressed “our preaching is vain, and your faith is also vain."
Nothing convinced the emperor, and images were again broken, burnt, or covered with dirt. Many who refused to obey were banished. At Christmas, A.D. 814, the emperor went to St. Sophia's church, and all proceeded quietly until a prophecy was read in the lessons for the day from Isa. 40 against idolatry, when one of the clergy stood forth, and told the emperor that God commanded him, by the prophet's words, to proceed against image-worship.
Nicephorus was displaced and shut up in a monastery; Theodore, who would not be quiet, was cruelly scourged, his wounds being left undressed, and banished. For three years he was confined in an underground dungeon; but his energy seemed to revive, the more he was punished. He wrote or dictated messages to the pope of Rome and others, to oppose the emperor, whom he called a Pharaoh and a Nebuchadnezzar, an enemy of the Saviour and of His Virgin Mother.
Michael “the stammerer," one of the generals, conspired against the emperor; but his plot was discovered, and he was condemned to death. It was the eve of Christmas, 820. He would have been at once executed, but the empress begged the execution might be left until after the festival. The emperor agreed, but told her that her pious scruples might cost her dear. Feeling ill at ease, in the dead of the night the emperor went to see that his enemy was safe. He found Michael and the officer who guarded him, as well as the keeper, all asleep; and he retired again. But there was a slave in the place whom the emperor had not noticed; he recognized the emperor by the purple buskins which he wore, and, on the emperor withdrawing, he awoke the sleepers and told them what he had seen. The officer, knowing that he would be condemned for sleeping, concerted a plan with Michael for immediate action.
On Christmas morning it was usual to begin the earliest service at three o'clock, and one of the gates of the palace was opened at that early hour to admit the clergy and the singers, when some armed conspirators entered also. By mistake they first attacked the chief chaplain, but he, shewing his shaven head, escaped. They then fell upon Leo, and though he defended himself with a large cross from the altar, he was overcome and slain. Before a smith could be obtained to remove the chains of Michael, he was proclaimed emperor, and was crowned the same day!
Theodore, from his dungeon, congratulated the new emperor, and rejoiced that the apostate should thus end his life! He, with others, was recalled, and Theodore had a sort of public triumph.
It is really shocking to see to how low an ebb Christianity had fallen when its loudest advocates could thus rejoice in such a deed of blood as the murder of Leo. But it was then the dark ages!
However, the joy of Theodore was of short duration, for Michael, though allowing images, would have no worship of them. Theodore was again roused to defiance, and was again banished, and died in exile.
Michael wrote to the pope (Paschal) and to Louis the Pious (of France) on the subject of images. This letter shews to what excesses the veneration of images was carried. Besides lights and incense being burned in their honour, hymns and prayers were addressed to them; and in some cases the consecrated bread was placed in the hands of images that it might be received from them!
In the year 829 Theophilus succeeded Michael as emperor, and in every way enforced the orders against images. On his death, 842, all was again changed, and pictures (in the East, rather than statues) were again introduced.
In France the opposition to images on the whole grew weaker, there was an evident desire to be friendly with Rome, and by degrees the doctrines adopted by the Roman church were held by those in France. Thus the question of images was to a certain extent settled. Not, we presume, that all the extreme things mentioned above were enforced; but images were tolerated and reverence paid to them, as may be seen to this day in any Roman Catholic country, if not indeed in our own. The reader will however learn from the above that it was long and strongly opposed in the church; and was only tolerated and enacted during the darkness of the dark ages, though, alas! it survives in times thought to be much more enlightened. It is to be noticed that Rome, at least in respect to images, cannot plead antiquity.