Life of Saint Ambrose of Milan

Contents Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III The life of Saint Ambrose took place during the period of external and internal collapse of the Roman Empire. It deserves special attention because this Father of the Church, along with the height of spiritual achievement, combined in himself the valor of a statesman. Occupying the most important positions in the state and taking a close part in its vicissitudes, Ambrose used all his strength to revive the decaying society of that time with the spirit of a new faith. Ambrose was born in Trier, in the first half of the 4th century 1, when Christianity, by virtue of the edicts of Emperor Constantine, acquired not only freedom of confession, but already enjoyed some patronage of state power. The father of Saint Ambrose was the prefect of Gaul, which was then considered the most important province, since it included, in addition to Gaul, in the proper sense, also Spain and England. He was a dignitary of outstanding abilities; he belonged to an ancient noble senatorial family that converted to Christianity during times of persecution. (Under Diocletian, one of the offspring of this family, a girl whose name has not reached us, sealed her faith in Christ with martyrdom). Ambrose had a brother Satyr and a sister Marcellina. Inspired from a young age by an ardent faith, Marcellina left her home and went to Rome, to Pope Liberius, with the intention of taking a vow of virginity and spending the rest of her life there in strict solitude. Satyr and Ambrose, remaining in their parents' home, were an example of touching brotherly friendship. Both had the same character, the same tastes and almost the same appearance, but the younger Ambrose was also distinguished by his special childish cuteness. (A poetic legend has been preserved that bees flew to his cradle, like to Plato, and collected honey from his lips). After the premature death of their father, Satyr and Ambrose, together with their mother, also moved to Rome, the center of the then science and enlightenment, in order to complete their education there. The society that surrounded them in Rome was alien to Christianity, which they had ardently professed since childhood. Decrepit polytheism among the descendants of patrician families still had many followers. Monuments associated with the former greatness of Rome, when these families were at the peak of power and glory, aroused a sense of reverence for antiquity in their heirs. They thought that by moving away from the beliefs and traditions of the past, they would be violating their duty towards their fatherland and ancestors. Ambrose had to meet many such adherents of the past among his school friends and teachers. The essence of education at that time was reduced to the study of classical examples of Greco-Roman poetry and eloquence - everything in them was imbued with polytheism. The adherents of ancient paganism, regretting the revolution taking place everywhere before their eyes, felt like masters in these schools. The science of law enjoyed primary attention here, since the majestic building of the ancient Roman state was erected on it. In dedicating himself to service in higher positions, Ambrose, of course, could not neglect any of the subjects, the knowledge of which was necessary for this activity. Ambrose's young years thus passed between two opposing currents. But neither the duality of the environment nor the great works of ancient philosophers, lawyers and artists could shake the tenacity of the purity of his Christian beliefs. On the contrary, he began to better understand the mood of the minds of the opponents with whom victorious Christianity had to meet more than once; he learned to speak the language of his enemies in order to defeat them on their own soil and with their own weapons - with this he gave his word independence and strength, which later ensured his brilliant success. Among the higher administration, for which Ambrose was preparing himself, the same mixture of beliefs and opposing mental trends prevailed: increasingly important posts of the Empire, especially in Rome itself, were distributed between pagans and Christians, which naturally contributed to the formation of two different parties, although they drew closer to each other on the basis of official occupations, but internally remained alien to each other. At the head of these parties were Symmachus, prefect of Rome, and Probus, who ruled most of Italy. Both of them enjoyed enormous popularity, the first due to his outstanding administrative activities; the second deserved it with his good Christian life, the nobility of his family, dating back to Marcus Aurelius, and generous charity. Satyr and Ambrose received the most cordial welcome in the houses of both; Moreover, Symmachus showed fatherly care to Satyr; Probus showed exceptional favor to Ambrose. Thanks to the influence of his patrons, Satyrus was appointed quaestor in Lucania; and Ambrose was first attached to the praetoral prefecture in Rome, then he was appointed to the emperor Valentinian to govern the provinces of Liguria and Emilia as a consular. These provinces then embraced the whole of upper Italy. Their main city was Milan. Here, as a result of a continuous series of coups, state power enjoyed almost no significance; Therefore, Probus, fully understanding that only a high moral personality can return the necessary authority to power, gave this admonition to Ambrose, who was going to the place of his new service: “Go, my child, and behave there not as a judge, but as a bishop!” The advice was accepted and implemented. The provinces entrusted to the jurisdiction of Ambrose soon experienced the benefits of philanthropic but firm governance. This was all the more palpable for them since outside of Milan the nature of government was completely different: Emperor Valentinian was, although straightforward, a rude soldier. Caring most of all about external order and discipline, he mercilessly punished any slightest disobedience. He often said: “The soul of supreme power is justice, and the soul of justice must be unyielding severity.” Ambrose had a more lofty concept about this: he argued that for the security of the state, justice requires that the government also take upon itself the protection of the oppressed. Listening carefully to every complaint, when forced to impose punishment or restore the rights of victims, he always tempered his actions with mercy. By this, Ambrose gained universal love, while the monarch himself, whose orders he carried out, inspired only fear. But in addition, Ambrose earned the deep respect of the people for the impeccability of his private life, as well as for his generous charity, which he tried in every possible way to hide. Ambrose's most important merit was that he acquired such general respect and trust at a time when the city was full of strife. In addition to the turmoil caused in Milan, as elsewhere, by the not yet fully completed transition from paganism to Christianity, a regrettable and deep division was already taking place in the depths of the newly triumphant Church. Despite the anathemas of the Council of Nicea, the heretical teaching of Arius, born in the East, spread throughout almost the entire Empire. Heresy, as is known, consisted in disputing the Divine nature of Christ and in reducing His personality to a number of simple creatures. The falsity of this teaching was clearly exposed by the relevant passages of Holy Scripture, especially by the words of the Savior Himself; however, the essence of the heresy, being cleverly disguised, eluded the understanding of the people. The debate, which lasted more than 20 years, boiled down to the following question: “Is the Son equal or only similar to the Father? Does He have a share in the infinite Being of the Father? Or is He only a likeness of His Divinity?” Those who rejected the equality of the Son with the Father tended to believe in mere likeness. This subtle difference was expressed by two epithets, differing in Greek by only one letter, “homousios” and “gomiousios”. But in this softened form, heresy did not become less important and following it less disastrous; for from the moment they ceased to recognize God in Christ, only some intermediate being could be recognized in Him - a demigod or a good genius. Thus, it turned out that there were two Gods opposing each other: one greater, the other lesser. What, in this case, prevented other gods from being added to them? With the victory of the teachings of Arius, Christianity would become nothing more than a temporarily purified polytheism. Corrupted at its very core, it would not hesitate to develop into forms of life characteristic of all idolatry; all-religion, cruelty and debauchery, from which the Gospel had recently purified the social atmosphere of the pagan world, would again receive religious justification. The form proposed by the Arians disguised the lie so skillfully that unrest managed to take possession of many minds. Less than 20 years had passed before the city of Milan became the scene of a fierce struggle between the defenders of the Nicene faith and the Arians, who, not daring to openly refute it, distorted it with insidious interpretations. The disputes took place in the presence of Emperor Constantius, the last of the descendants of Constantine the Great. Some ambitious bishops, corrupted by the morals of the court, convinced the emperor that he was omnipotent, and that his authority also extended to the decision of fundamental questions of doctrine. Constantius leaned toward heresy, apparently finding that this lie could be a better and stronger ally of his lust for power. Bishop Dionysius of Milan was exiled for resisting these claims, and lived out his days in exile. His successor Auxentius, a stranger in this province who did not even know the local language, was rather imposed on Milan than elected. He belonged to those people of the described time whose faith was already distorted. Auxentius did not enjoy any authority. His mere presence was enough to cause discord among Christians. Religious strife would probably have worsened even more if Emperor Valentinian had not completely banned disputes about faith. He did not like bickering in general and theological ones in particular; in relation to them, he always kept aloof, despite the fact that he was sincerely devoted to Christianity. Auxentius died in Milan a year after Ambrose was appointed there to public service. Now religious and political ferment in Milan intensified even more. From which party could Auxentius' successor be chosen? The right of election belonged to the bishops of the entire region together with the clergy of the city. Moreover, it was necessary to take into account: firstly, the opinion of the laity, who in this case would hardly agree to accept the little-known archpastor, and secondly, the desire of the emperor. Therefore, before deciding on anything final, the bishops sent a deputation to Valentinian in order to find out his opinion regarding the upcoming choice. But Valentinian, making it a rule not to cross boundaries where his authority came into contact with the independence of the Church, resolutely declined to give his advice. “Such a choice,” he replied, “is beyond my strength. You yourself must know who is more worthy of the bishopric. I will bow before your chosen one and with faith I will receive edification from him for the salvation of my soul.” It was impossible to postpone the solution of the issue any longer. The elections were scheduled in one of the city's basilicas. The bishops were seated on the main pulpit; an excited and impatient crowd filled the rest of the church and exchanged stormy arguments. On duty, Ambrose appeared there and in polite but firm terms urged those present to calmly await the outcome of the elections. The people calmed down. Suddenly, in the midst of the general silence, as if by inspiration from above, a gentle child’s voice proclaimed three times: “Ambrose is a bishop!” The congregation became agitated. A moment later, the name of Ambrose, “Ambrose the Bishop,” was repeated by everyone. This unexpected preference was given to Ambrose for his unshakable faith and for the impartiality with which he treated all parties in the city in the performance of his duties. But Ambrose, alone in the entire congregation, did not understand what was happening and refused to believe what he heard. One could even read displeasure on his face. Always faithful to the rules of the Church, he never, however, thought of devoting himself entirely to it; here, along with unexpected honor, he was imposed with responsibilities, the burden of which seemed too heavy to him. “I belonged to this world,” he said later, “but I was forcibly torn out of its vanities.” Ambrose decided to evade at all costs the high service offered to him and for this he tried to show himself unworthy of election. Just then it was the usual hour of court hearings. From the church, Ambrose goes straight to the praetorium and here, contrary to his custom, he orders the defendant to be subjected to cruel punishment. The people, however, were not embarrassed by this. Like the Jews who made a noise before Pilate's tribunal, the crowd shouted: “Let this sin fall on us!” Some, smiling, added: “Ambrose, you have not yet received holy baptism, this sin of yours, along with your previous ones, will be washed away in the font.” Ambrose also tried in other ways to show the people his unworthiness to be a bishop, but all his attempts were in vain. Then Ambrose decided to get rid of the stubborn insistence of the people in a more effective way. There were two ways of serving the Church: the activity of a priest and the feat of hermit life. Ambrose chose the latter for himself. At night he left Milan with the goal of withdrawing from the world into seclusion. But, setting off alone without an escort, he got lost and in the morning, thinking that he was heading towards Pavia, he suddenly saw himself again in front of the gates of Milan. They recognized him, brought him home and never let him out of sight. However, Ambrose could cite another important circumstance in his favor. Following the custom of that time, he postponed his baptism until the hour before his death and therefore was not yet among the catechumens preparing for baptism, and the canons of the Church forbade converts to accept the episcopal rank. And the law of Constantine did not allow city officials to join the clergy. But the general desire to see him as a bishop was so great that the bishops could not help but confirm the people's election. “Under the influence of general enthusiasm,” Ambrose later said, “all sorts of rules were forgotten.” The election has been completed. A report about him was sent to the emperor. The Emperor was quick to give his approval. It was important for him to see spiritual power in the hands of a person whom he himself had noted in public service. To put an end to Ambrose's hesitation, the emperor wrote to him in his own hand, promising for his part to take all measures to calm the episcopate. At the same time, an order was sent to the governor of Italy to speed up the election of Ambrose, despite any obstacles. The emperor's letter, however, did not find Ambrose in Milan. He tried to evade again and went to the village, where he hid in the house of one of his friends. But before the imperial command, Ambrose’s friend felt powerless and was forced to announce that Ambrose was hiding with him. In such a wonderful agreement between the ministers of the Church, the people and the emperor, the will of God was undoubtedly expressed, and Ambrose had to bow before it. Now he no longer even insisted that the legal period of time be observed between his baptism and his ordination to the first priesthood: only a week passed from the day of baptism to his ordination. Throughout his subsequent life, Ambrose regretted this haste. “Here,” he said to himself, “is a man who was not nurtured and raised in the bosom of the Church, but was taken straight from the judge’s chair, where, instead of psalms and sacred chants, he heard only the cries of the bailiffs. And now, celebrating the Eucharist, this man received a place among those invited to the Divine Table! Lord, help him on this new path!” From the very first days of his bishopric, Ambrose inspired confidence in himself. His life, previously impeccable, now became continuous self-denial and severe feat. He gave all his money to the poor. He also assigned his real estate to provide for them, instructing his sister Marcellina to manage this. The unanimity that the Orthodox, previously completely divided, showed during this election did not allow the new bishop to doubt the path ahead of him. He immediately sent a deputation to the East to find and bring the remains of his predecessor Dionysius the Confessor, who died in exile in one of the remote cities of Armenia. For assistance in this matter, Ambrose turned to Basil, Bishop of Caesarea, the most famous of the fathers of the Eastern Church. Vasily, sending the remains of Dionysius to the West, wrote an eloquent message to Ambrose and in it seemed to call him to a high, but also dangerous task - the defense of the true faith. “Let us give praise to the Lord! – wrote the great bishop. – In every generation He finds people worthy of His election. Once upon a time He anointed a simple shepherd as king over His people. From Amos, who tended goats, He raised up a prophet filled with the Holy Spirit. Now He has found you in the reigning city, a man outstanding in education, eloquence, nobility and wealth. God took you from the judges of the world and prepared for you a place in the host of the apostles. Fight the good fight, and if the madness of Arius has touched your flock, heal them from this infection!” Soon Ambrose had the opportunity to put into practice the prophetic advice of Basil the Great. Emperor Valentinian was not destined to realize his intention to ensure the peace of the Milanese episcopate. During a campaign against the Sarmatians who invaded Pannonia, he was suddenly defeated by paralysis. Management passed to his two sons, but neither of them was capable of it. The elder Gratian had just turned 16; the youngest, born from his second marriage to Justina and named Valentinian in honor of his father, was only a four-year-old child. Gratian was a good-natured young man, but weak-willed. Taking advantage of this, Justina easily obtained his consent to share supreme power with Valentinian. However, this did not satisfy her. In Gratian she saw not so much a legitimate sovereign as the son of her rival, and her maternal jealousy knew no bounds. A party was formed around her, under the influence of which the religious strife of that time intensified even more. From the very first days of his reign, Gratian showed himself to be an adherent of the Nicene faith. Those who hated Orthodoxy and its zealous defender Ambrose rallied around the mother of the younger emperor, hoping with her help to bring about the triumph of heresy. Encouraged by the tacit support of Justina, the followers of Arius began to demand that they retain ownership of one of the basilicas of Milan. They hoped to keep this basilica forever. But the concession of the church to the Arians and the establishment of a heretical see in the city would be nothing more than an encroachment on the spiritual authority of Ambrose. In order to prevent this, Ambrose turned to Gratian, but he showed complete lack of character: for now he limited himself to only temporarily closing the disputed church, and postponed the final decision of the matter until his arrival in Milan. This gave the Arians some hope, and would have been the cause of great unrest, if the news coming from the East about the invasion of the Goths had not given the matter such a turn that Ambrose had the opportunity to show how much the state and the Church could benefit from his devotion and courage. The late Valentinian, unexpectedly elevated to the throne by the choice of the army, felt that he alone was not able to rule the entire empire. Legalizing its division, which at that time had already become common, and even necessary given the vastness of the territory, he abandoned the East in favor of his brother Valens. Being a man of small minds, Valens did not possess any of those qualities thanks to which Valentinian was able to subjugate people to his personality. Yielding to court influences that led Constantius astray, Valens, even more decisively than Constantius, took advantage of the authority of the imperial power to defend heretical teaching. Irritated by the resistance he encountered, he turned the entire Eastern Church into an arena of bloody persecution and constant unrest. The struggle with Basil of Caesarea, who refused to recognize the authority of secular authorities in determining the dogmas of faith, especially when this authority deviates from Orthodoxy, did not end in favor of Valens. However, he became stubborn and, going further and further along the wrong path, turned a religious issue into a matter of his personal pride. This view of the matter of faith had a very disastrous effect on the Empire’s relations with the Goths. Among the peoples who lived on the border of Roman possessions and constantly threatened the Empire, the most powerful were the Goths. These were dangerous neighbors, but the Empire was still able to maintain more or less correct relations with them. These relations became especially frequent since Christianity was preached to the Goths. One of them, Ulfila, even received the rank of bishop; this linked the Goths to the state Church, but in addition, the Empire often recruited mercenaries from among them for its numerous legions. With great concern they learned in Constantinople that this semi-barbarian people, whose attacks had ceased to be feared, were themselves invaded by wild hordes of a strong and ferocious tribe that came from unknown where. Concern gave way to real horror when Bishop Ulfilas arrived in Constantinople with the news that the Goths were unable to resist this invasion. Ulfilas begged for refuge for his compatriots within the Empire and in return promised, on behalf of the Goths, unquestioning obedience and faithful service. This unexpected proposal caused great alarm in the council of Valens. It was hard to believe that recent enemies could become peaceful and benevolent fellow citizens in such a short time. Could their vow of obedience to the laws of the Empire be relied upon when, completely unfamiliar with these laws, they themselves did not understand what they were promising? How strong could an agreement be with such a people, and would it be possible to live together with them? Wouldn't this be the same as letting a wolf into your sheepfold? Some said that the defeated and escaping Goths were still so strong and so well armed that it was very difficult to prevent them from crossing the Danube, and that therefore it was better to voluntarily accept the conditions they were now offering than to be forced to do so by force. Valens hesitated for some time between these two decisions and, as is generally typical of people of weak character, stopped in the middle. He agreed to fulfill the request of the Goths, but on the following conditions: that they, before crossing the border of Roman possessions, lay down all their weapons, and that they separate from the Orthodox - opponents of Arianism. The second condition was accepted by them without resistance. The Goths were not advanced enough to understand theological issues. They believed everything that Bishop Ulfila taught them, and he, although he was present at some councils of that time, but living far from the circumstances that caused them, was not able to understand these deep and complex differences of opinion. Ulfilas did not know the Greek language well, and therefore the softened form of Arianism did not seem contrary to his conscience: he did not see any lies in it. “All these disputes,” he said, “are nothing but intrigue and ambition. I find no reason to refuse the emperor his demand.” With the first condition things turned out differently. The Goths held on to their weapons more tightly than to their religious beliefs. There was no way to force them to fulfill their promise - to lay down their arms. They landed in the possessions of the Empire in full armor, with wives, children, property, and at the same time in much larger numbers than expected. But this is not enough. Not content with the lands allotted to them, the Goths, like an overflowing river, began to spread uncontrollably beyond the limits indicated to them. The frightened residents rushed to flee, and the Goths voluntarily settled in abandoned dwellings. When imperial officials tried to stop the Goths, accusations of treachery and threats were immediately heard among the latter. Gathered under the leadership of their leaders, they were ready to engage in battle with their frightened masters. The state's position was becoming more dangerous than ever. There had been barbarian invasions before, but the Roman legions always repelled them in the end, and the sacred territory of the Roman Empire remained free from encroachment. Now it was not the same. The Goths stood not on the distant outskirts of the Empire, but in its very center, before the gates of one of the capitals. Seeing his mistake, Valens turned to Gratian, imploring him to come to his aid against the enemy who threatened them both. This desperate appeal led the noble youth into complete confusion. The task was too big for him. He, completely inexperienced in military affairs, was called upon to become the head of the troops and go against the enemy, whose very name had not so long ago been pronounced with trepidation. Those close to him gave Gratian cautious, or rather, cowardly advice. “Who,” they said, “will guard the borders of the Empire during your absence? Aren't the Gauls threatening to invade you yourself? And is the Rhine really a more reliable border against the Franks than the Danube against the Goths? Gratian hesitated. The voice of duty, however, prevailed, and he decided to immediately send several detachments to the East, promising in the spring to personally come to the aid of Valens at the head of all the troops at his disposal. But in the East, Gratian was faced with a new difficulty: there he found himself in an atmosphere of religious disputes initiated by Valens. Gratian, brought up in the dogmas of the Council of Nicaea, which his father so carefully guarded and which he adhered to with childish credulity, found it difficult to distinguish the truth from skillfully disguised lies. He had heard a lot about Ambrose, whose abilities his father had extolled. And so the idea came to Gratian that in the Bishop of Milan he would find an adviser, enlightened and strong, to help him overcome his difficulties. He immediately wrote to Ambrose, asking for his guidance in matters raised by the fight against Arianism. Nothing could be more touching than this call from a trusting soul, worried about the upcoming hostilities and religious doubts. Ambrose answered immediately. The events that took place in the East aroused amazement and anger in him. As a Christian, as a bishop, and as an experienced lawyer, he could not help but be indignant. Like all his contemporaries, only in the Roman Empire did he see that totality of education, order and all peaceful prosperity, which we now call civilization, and then called pax romana. Outside this “Roman world”, for the people of that time, no life worthy of a person seemed impossible. Allowing armed barbarians to penetrate the Empire meant destroying society and overthrowing the entire political system. There was no such incident in all of Roman history. Ambrose thought so. The treaty with the Goths, which contributed to the strengthening of the heresy, which had already taken deep roots everywhere, further increased his anxiety. The bishops of the Church, out of fear of the new settlers, accepted them and even began to wear necklaces, bracelets and other Gothic insignia. “This blasphemy is shameful for the Roman name! - Ambrose exclaimed. “It humiliates us!” And Ambrose did not hesitate to send Gratian the requested explanations. He subsequently developed his answer in more detail, making it an extensive treatise in which the divinity of Christ was proven by the texts of the Holy Scriptures and philosophical reasoning. Despite the value of these reasonings, the excited state of his soul is clearly felt in them. This ardent exhortation, calling on the young emperor to fearlessly come out in defense of faith and state, was like a warlike song, full of love for God and the fatherland. In this appeal, Ambrose does not separate the insult inflicted on the shrine of the Christian religion from the attack on the greatness of Rome. The heresy of Arius is, in his opinion, the main cause of all troubles. “I will not detain you,” he says in his letter, received by Gratian just before setting out on the campaign, “Hurry to the victory that awaits you!” Go, pious sir, may the shield of true faith protect you, and may your spirit be strengthened! Apostasy brought punishment upon us, but the firmness of your faith will save us. The wrath of God shook the charm of the Empire where faith in the Son of God was violated. Remember the death, torment and expulsion of the confessors who suffered in this case! Dacia, Mysia, Pannonia, Thrace indignantly listen to the blasphemous prayers of the Arians, mixed with the violent cries of the barbarians. What good can come from such a union? What can be the prosperity of the Empire when it is entrusted to such guardians? Where faith is shaken, there can be no public safety. Rise, sir, and unfurl your banner! It is not the eagles of war that will lead your legions, nor will they be guided by divination by the flight of birds. Your name, Lord Jesus! They also call for Your cross on their banners. They raised the sword not for a pagan country, but for Italy, the homeland of so many confessors! She was subjected to many trials, but was never conquered. You, God, who have always protected her from ferocious barbarians, be an avenger for her now!..” Ambrose's good wishes, however, did not come true. Although Gratian set out on a campaign, he was detained by the Franks on the way. And besides, before he reached the place where Valens was waiting for him, a terrible disaster broke out over the Empire. The Goths, clumsily attacked on the Adrianople Plain by the troops of Valens, put them to flight. The defeat of this day was further increased by a misfortune in which popular rumor saw a clear punishment from God: the Goths set fire to the bushes that covered the battlefield, and the Roman legions suddenly found themselves surrounded by a sea of ​​fire. Panic seized everyone. Everyone thought only about themselves. Cavalry, infantry, centurions, tribunes - everything fled and crushed each other in confusion, and died in the fire. Valens, wounded by an arrow at the very beginning of the battle, was carried to a hut where he was given first aid. But the bed on which he was abandoned became his pyre, and even his remains could not be found. “Since the day of the defeat at Cannae,” says historian Ammianus Marcellinus, “the republic has not experienced such a blow. This was the general impression. It seemed that Rome's days were numbered. The road to Constantinople was open, and all the villages up to its very gates were burned. The defeat was followed by famine and plague. The inhabitants of Italy thought that they were threatened with the same fate, and from hour to hour they were preparing to defend themselves.” Those who fled from the battlefield spoke of the huge number of killed and captured. Ambrose's heart sank in pain. It seemed to him that the “days of abomination and desolation” predicted in Holy Scripture had come. “Who could better than us,” he says, “testify to the truth of these prophetic words. Apparently, the end times are coming. The Huns moved against the Alans, the Alans against the Goths. There is confusion and general flight everywhere. Darkness covers the universe. These are undoubted signs of the imminent end of the world.” But as a true Christian, Ambrose immediately adds firmly: “If this is a flood, then we must act like Noah - find a refuge where one could be saved among the coming world disasters.” Those who fled suffered severe poverty; but the situation of those who remained captive of the victors was even more terrible. They were treated like slaves, neither childish weakness nor feminine modesty was spared. Prisoners, chained, were sold in markets as slaves. The question arose: where to get the money to buy them back? Ambrose's own funds were depleted, and he decided to take a bold step. There were many precious golden vessels in the Milan church. Having selected from them those that had not yet been consecrated, he ordered them to be melted into ingots. With the help of this gold, Ambrose ransomed many unfortunates. When he was subsequently reproached that by disposing of church property in this way, he had exceeded his power, Ambrose responded indignantly: “Is gold really more valuable than human life?! The Church of Christ does not need it, and if it accepts it, it is only to help those in need. Without gold, the Lord sent the Apostles to preach, and He founded His Church not on wealth.” Fears for the fate of the Empire were, however, premature. Rome was not so weak that it could fall from one blow. The Goths, poorly accustomed to discipline, settled randomly wherever they were attracted by prey. The Roman legions took advantage of this. They rallied again and, taking refuge in fortresses, waited only for reinforcements from Asia. Now everyone understood the mistake of Valens, who caused the union of all Gothic troops with his open attack. The ready had to be separated and struck apart. But such a plan required the constant presence and command of the emperor himself; this was beyond the forces of Gratian. In addition, he was forced to return to Gaul, as he doubted the loyalty of the legions left there. In addition, Gratian did not know the East well, and governing this half of the Empire was an unbearable burden for him. He needed a loyal and capable co-ruler. When choosing such a person, Gratian had to be guided not by personal affection, but by considerations of the benefit of the state. He settled on Theodosius, the son of a once famous commander. Theodosius was then living in exile in Spain. At first he shied away from such mercy, but then he had to give in to Gratian’s persistent requests. The latter hastened to hand over control to him, and he immediately left the East; but before leaving, he, by a solemn decree, abolished those restrictive decrees that had been issued by Valens against the Orthodox, and declared complete freedom of confession to all Christians. This measure was met with great sympathy; the people, in the misfortunes of the state, were accustomed to seeing the punishment of heavenly justice for the wickedness of the emperors. Gratian himself thought so. Upon returning to Trier, his first task was to become more established in his faith. The clarity and convincingness of the instructions given to him by Ambrose amazed him. Gratian felt the need to call Ambrose to himself. “I strongly desire, pious bishop,” he wrote, “to see you. You occupy all my thoughts. Hurry here to teach me the true teaching. Do not think that I am looking for verbal competitions about faith, I want to love and honor Christ with all my soul. I would like my heart to open to the same knowledge of God that you have.” No matter how urgent this call was, Ambrose hesitated to go. He was afraid of the court, because he remembered that many bishops who visited the court under Constantius and Valens were influenced by heretics and flattering pagan rhetoricians with whom they had to meet there. This served as a source of new temptation and new unrest in the Church, which had only recently been brought to the unity of faith with such difficulty. Ambrose decided not to join the society surrounding the emperor and declined Gratian's invitation. In his answer he wisely combined respect for Gratian as an emperor with tender solicitude for him as a faithful son of the Church. Ambrose wrote: “If I do not rush to your call, pious Sovereign, then it is not a lack of respect that holds me back, but doubt in my abilities. I constantly and fervently pray for you. I followed every step of your campaign from afar and was mentally on the battlefield with you day and night. Your success was our salvation. Don’t take my words for flattery - you don’t need it, but it’s not befitting my rank. “He who searches hearts and bellies,” Whom we confess, sees how sympathetically my heart responds to everything concerning your salvation and glory. However,” he continues, “I must supplement my previous explanations: it remains for me to reveal to you the Divine nature of the Holy Spirit, just as I tried to clarify to you the Divinity of Jesus Christ.” But Ambrose was destined to hand over his work to Gratian personally. If the bishop did not go to the Emperor, then the Emperor irresistibly strove for the bishop. Soon after returning from the East, Gratian arrived in Milan, intending to move the capital here. Gratian was called to this populous city, located in the center of the entire western part of the Empire, not only by important political interests, but also by a thirst for communication with Ambrose, who completely conquered the sensitive heart of the Sovereign with his moral strength. Emperor Gratian was an inexperienced and timid young man; Ambrose, on the other hand, combined the broad outlook of a statesman with the spiritual authority of a hierarch of the Church. A happy combination of all sorts of opposing talents is found many times among the famous Fathers of the Church, but we see the combination of these traits for the first time in Ambrose. Gratian soon understood, appreciated the Milanese bishop and placed full confidence in him, both in church and political affairs. Honors and power, which Ambrose not only did not seek, but tried in every possible way to avoid, came to him by themselves. Providence, apparently, was preparing him for new exploits for the glory of the Church, on the eve of disasters approaching humanity from all sides. The closest friendly relations soon began between the Emperor and the bishop. Gratian rarely left Milan, except for military reasons. His palace was always open to Ambrose. Their relationship was more like a bishop's guardianship over the young Sovereign. Thanks to this, the character of Gratian's rule, previously weak and indecisive, now became firm and definite, as evidenced by the most important legislative acts of that time. Ambrose's influence was primarily reflected in measures aimed at liberating the Church from some restrictive provisions of civil law, as well as in destroying all traces of paganism in the Empire's public life. In Ambrose's eyes, religion and politics were supposed to pursue the same goal. He saw the highest good of the Empire in the coordination of state activities with the commandments of Christianity. At this time, an event occurred in Rome that caused a lot of noise. Since time immemorial, in the hall of the Roman Senate there has been a statue of the Goddess of Victory and an altar in honor of her. Only once was it closed, namely during a visit to Rome by Emperor Constantius. Constantius's successor, Julian the Apostate, did not allow the slightest encroachment on this pagan shrine. That “Victory” was worshiped in the Roman Senate was not surprising, since where could one glorify the benefits of this goddess and seek her protection if not at the center of a policy that culminated in the conquest of the whole world? Even Christian senators had some respect for this symbol of Roman power. And there was no temptation in this, since in that era of religious and mental turmoil no one could say with certainty to whom the altars were erected: to a pagan deity or only to a poetic allegory. And so, one fine morning, the goddess of Victory and her altar were not in place. Everyone was amazed. The excitement caused by such an attack on the treasured symbol of pagan antiquity was indescribable. By order of the Senate, authorized representatives were immediately sent to the Emperor with a complaint. Christian senators decided to openly oppose this. They only asked their bishop, Pope Damasus, to notify the Emperor of the reasons for their caution. The general indignation was so great that one could fear popular indignation. The representatives of the Senate arrived in Milan with a petition that seemed unanimous. But, to great disappointment, they did not even gain access to the palace. “The villains prevented us,” they said later, “from seeing the Emperor.” One of these “villains” and, in fact, even the only one, was Ambrose. The idea of ​​destroying the Altar of Victory belonged to him, and he did not hide it. Thanks to his influence, the income intended for the maintenance of this altar, the priests and vestals with it, were also confiscated. If paganism was challenged so boldly in that last stronghold, with which so many glorious historical memories were associated, then the heresy of Arius could expect even less mercy from Ambrose. And, indeed, Ambrose decided to oppose her where it was most difficult to fight her - namely in Sirmium, where Empress Justina retired with the young Valentinian. The small court gathered there by the empress-mother around her son was in deep enmity with the court of Gratian. At this time, elections for a new bishop took place in Sirmium. The preponderance leaned towards the candidate proposed from among the Orthodox, and not the Arians; but Empress Justina tried by all means to prevent his approval. Despite this, when the newly elected one approached Ambrose with a request to ordain him, Ambrose immediately went there. On the day appointed for the dedication, the hostile party met the Bishop of Milan in the church with threats and cries of indignation. The women were especially excited. One of them rushed to Ambrose and, grabbing his clothes, wanted to prevent him from sitting down on the place prepared in the middle of the church. “Don't raise your hands on me! No matter how weak I may be, I am a priest. Be careful that God doesn’t punish you!” Ambrose's words had their effect. The dedication took place amid general silence and order. A few days later, this woman became deathly ill. Everyone saw in this God’s intercession for Ambrose. The impression from this event was so deep that wherever Ambrose's influence spread, Arianism fell. The bishops who persisted in heresy were deposed at a council convened with the permission of Gratian in Aquileia. Ambrose led the meetings at this council. It soon became known to everyone what a huge influence Ambrose had on the Emperor. They began to resort to the Bishop of Milan from different quarters for patronage. It was only impossible to ask him for appointment to places of honor and promotion in the army or at court, since he did not want to indulge his ambition. Yet he listened with sympathy to other requests, and especially to the complaints of the weak and oppressed. Access to it was free for everyone and at all times. Admirers and petitioners always crowded around him, who did not leave him even in public places. Subsequently, Ambrose was reproached that he appeared only accompanied by a huge retinue. The bishop of Milan patronized everyone, without distinction of classes or even religions. A historian of that time tells how one day Ambrose, having learned that some pagan had been sentenced to death for lèse-majesté, went to the palace to ask for his pardon. Gratian was just getting ready to go hunting at that time. The Emperor indulged in this fun with passion, and turning to him at such an hour with business was strictly prohibited. But Ambrose violated the order and entered the Emperor through the back door. For the first time, Gratian expressed displeasure about such a visit to Ambrose. Having learned what was the matter, he said irritably: “After all, this man insulted me.” “All the more willingly spare him,” said the bishop, and begged the Emperor for mercy. And not only people of the lower classes, but bishops and high dignitaries often turned to Ambrose for advice and help. Whether it was a religious issue or a state issue, they could not do without the guidance of the bishop. The Roman prefect Symmachus, a friend of Ambrose's youth, who inherited name and power from his famous father, in whose house Ambrose and his brother found protection, also repeatedly turned to the Bishop of Milan, not so much on his own personal affairs, but with a request for support for other people in need. “Don’t be surprised,” Symmachus wrote in one of his letters, “that I again remind you of my request, but in misfortune you need quick help and protection, and where can you look for it if not with you?” Some, instead of letters, preferred to appear to Ambrose in person. In his modest home, he received everyone sympathetically and kindly. A basilica named after him was subsequently erected on that spot. Ambrose did not live alone, but together with the senior priests of the bishopric. They lived modestly, strictly observing the fasts established by the Church. But even in this monastic setting, Ambrose retained the noble simplicity of a patrician. “Get accustomed,” he writes to one bishop who turned to him for advice, “to sincere, unconstrained hospitality. In particular, he adds, refrain from everything rude, reminiscent of the manners and methods of an ill-bred crowd.” Ambrose was approached not only as an influential intercessor before the Emperor, he was often also resorted to as a judge, mediator and peacemaker. Everyone knows the passage of their letter to the Corinthians, in which St. Paul reproaches the Corinthian Christians for turning to pagan courts to resolve their disputes. “Is it possible,” asks the Apostle, “that there was not among you a wise man who could be a judge among his brethren?” Naturally, such a wise judge could most likely be a bishop. Over time, the custom spread among Christians to trust the main shepherd of the community, in addition to church administration, also the paternal court. The bishop, at the call of the believers themselves, entered into their household affairs, restored good relations between family members, sorting out complaints not according to external law, but according to conscience, which was more strict in its demands. Since Ambrose was not only a pious bishop, but also an experienced lawyer, he knew how to reconcile strict legality with Christian love - which is what true justice actually consists of. Thus, in Milan, the custom arose of turning to the “episcopal court,” as Ambrose’s paternal proceedings began to be called then. Judging by the correspondence that has reached us, in which Ambrose considers the litigation submitted to his decision, his court has always been distinguished by high impartiality. One case remained where the material benefits of the Church were involved, and Ambrose, at the risk of incurring the displeasure of many, was not afraid to solve it according to his conscience. The point was as follows. One bishop of the Milan region bequeathed his fortune for lifelong use to his sister, so that upon her death it would pass to the Church. But the testator's brother, considering himself unfairly treated, began to challenge the legality of this donation. Ambrose, to whom they turned for mediation, caring more about restoring love between brother and sister, recognized the right to lifelong use of income for the sister, and awarded the right of ownership to the brother. When it was pointed out to Ambrose that the Church was losing by such a decision, he replied: “The Church never loses when it wins the cause of love and peace.” Sometimes in a humorous, but at the same time strict form, he was able to give a sensitive lesson to those who, in the name of mercy, did not want to give up their legal rights. It happened one day that some insolvent debtor died. Creditors did not allow his family to bury him until the debt was paid in full. To everyone's surprise, Ambrose found that they were right. “Since you want to ensure that you pay your debt with this corpse,” he decreed, “then take it to you and keep it.” No one expected such a decision from Ambrose. It caused general murmuring and indignation against the creditors; and when the corpse began to decompose, they were forced to abandon their demand. Then Ambrose insisted that the creditors arrange the funeral at their own expense. “This is in order,” he said, “to show that the plaintiffs were not deprived of the security they so sought.” Such matters, not specifically related to episcopal duties, however, did not prevent Ambrose from zealously fulfilling his pastoral duty. Almost every day he preached sermons, as evidenced by his detailed explanations that have come down to us on the first chapters of Genesis, on the psalms of David and on the Gospel of Luke. Not only the common people, but also all the educated and prominent people of the city came to listen to the great preacher. Ambrose himself instructed the catechumens preparing for baptism and the Eucharist. Whatever he spoke about, his speech was always clear, distinguished by accuracy and poured some kind of inexpressible sweetness into the souls of his listeners. The impression of Ambrose's sermons was further enhanced by the fact that he was the first of the Christian preachers to have a brilliant command of the Latin language. The East was happier in this regard. There, Basil the Great, Gregory of Nazianzus, and John Chrysostom were not inferior in eloquence to the best orators of ancient Hellas. In Rome, in the 5th century, oratory remained the domain of only hired rhetoricians, in most cases pagans. In pompous expressions, or in old classical forms that had already lost their sincerity, they glorified the deeds of the Emperors and described contemporary historical events. This artificial kind of eloquence, incompatible with real life, was always disgusting to Ambrose; He found it even less appropriate in Christian preaching. “Avoid false and inflated rhetoric. “Speak simply and sincerely,” he urged, “do not resort to theatrical techniques of raising and lowering your voice, let your words convey the indestructible faith and determination of a courageous soul.” With such a wide and varied activity, Ambrose still found time to compose extensive teaching messages. Their collection forms two large volumes in folio. This can only be explained by the fact that Ambrose knew how to use every free minute for self-deepening and scientific works. One of his young admirers, Augustine of Ippona, whose review of Ambrose we cited earlier, describes the way of life of the Milan bishop: “I revered Ambrose,” he says, “but no matter how hard I tried to get a conversation with him, I could not. The huge crowd of petitioners that always surrounded him did not allow me to approach him. In those few hours when he was left alone, he strengthened his body with modest food and his spirit with reading. Often, entering his house, where no one was prohibited access, I saw him quietly reading. I sat down and looked at him silently for a long time. I don’t know if anyone would dare to disturb such deep attention. And I left, realizing that it would be a sin to deprive him of those few minutes that he could devote to his mental pursuits.” In these short moments of reflection, which remained for him amid concerns about those in need, Ambrose wrote entire treatises on issues of Christian teaching and morality. Their external form is finished with the art that he learned from examples of classical literature. These treatises are almost as valuable as his oral sermons. They clearly reveal the feature that constituted the distinctive feature of this particular Father of the Church. As a shepherd, with a passionate sermon addressed to selected souls (in a treatise on virginity and widowhood), he calls everyone to the high ideal of Christian chastity; and as a person who himself moved in society, he immediately points out how to live in the world without violating the commandments of the Church. This combination of higher spirituality and everyday demands is most evident in one truly remarkable pastoral work of Ambrose, in which he compares the morality of Christianity with the morality of pagan philosophy. The title of this work, “On the Duties of Presbyters,” was borrowed almost verbatim from Cicero’s famous work “On the Duties” (De officiis). In this treatise Ambrose addresses the priests. In reality, the issues he raises and the solutions he proposes are of value not only for priests, but for all Christians in general, and even for pagans. At the same time, he follows the method of the Roman moralist, who in turn used the ideas of the philosopher Panetius, whose works have not reached us. Ambrose refers to Cicero and Panetius and acknowledges the merits of both. But he derives the idea of ​​moral duty from a more sublime source, which was not known to these philosophers, namely from the will of God, revealed in the Eternal Word of God. “Come, children,” says Ambrose, “listen to me, I will teach you the fear of the Lord!” Cicero argued that human actions are guided by two main motivations: consciousness of moral duty and considerations of benefit. By evaluating both these impulses, he determines what to do if in any case the honest and the useful come into conflict with each other. Ambrose argues differently. In his opinion, there is no difference or opposition between the morally worthy and the useful, for that is only useful and honest. What is useful is not what contributes to the contentment of this present life, but what leads to the blessings of eternal life. Looking at life from this point of view, we will understand that all the benefits that seem useful or pleasant to people - for example, sensual pleasures, wealth, power - are the opposite of true benefit: “These are imaginary benefits, decay; he who loses them loses nothing.” Thus, reducing moral duties to the principle of eternal life, Ambrose deduces everything that is permissible and proper in temporary life from a single beginning: obedience and love for God. Moving on to the practical application of his views, Ambrose displays the spirit of wisdom and reason, and adapts with great skill to the conditions of everyday life. He encourages Christians not to seek an ascetic appearance, which is contrary to the customs of society, and insists that in the world one can fulfill the commandments of Christ. In this way, Ambrose responds to the reproaches that were already heard against Christians from their pagan opponents; these reproaches can still be heard from some historians who are indifferent to the spiritual treasures of the Church. There was a lot of talk then about the reluctance of the first Christians to serve in military service, considering this to be a sign of their complete indifference to the troubles and dangers of their earthly fatherland, that is, the Roman Empire. Ambrose, who had a completely correct view of the war, did not share such views. Talking about courage as a virtue, he divided it into two types: one he calls spiritual courage and refers to the inner consciousness of a person: it should be used as a weapon against one’s own passions and against everyday adversity. Another is military courage: it awakens in a person the duty of a citizen and forces him to boldly go against the enemies of the fatherland. “Many,” says Ambrose, “recognize only this last kind of courage. We should not think that we neglect it as something alien to Christianity.” To support his words, he recalls the great examples of patriotic courage shown by Joshua, Gideon and the Maccabee brothers in Old Testament times. Ambrose's sermons are imbued with the same spirit. Explaining the passage from the Gospel where it is said that Christ did not perform many miracles in his homeland, in Galilee, he exclaims: “Let them not think that we look upon love for our homeland as a feeling unworthy of a Christian. Doesn’t He who loved all people thereby teach us to love our fellow citizens?” When discussing charity, Ambrose does not frame it within the framework of cold calculation, like the Roman philosopher, who advised carefully proportioning alms to your means so as not to offend your heirs. “On the contrary,” argues Ambrose, “one must subject oneself to deprivation in order to be able to help others. We must look for the poor who do not expose themselves. Great is your sin if one of your brothers is imprisoned or executed on false charges, and you know about all this, you could help him, but you do nothing. Is money really more valuable to you than human life? “The hand of the giver will not fail,” says the word of God. Remember that Christ was immeasurably rich, but took on the form of a slave only for the sake of our poverty.” Neither Cicero, nor Seneca, nor Marcus Aurelius himself ever said anything like that. The Church of the first centuries was often reproached for being too generous in helping the unworthy and in this way wasting its wealth. On this occasion, Ambrose speaks of the caution with which he had to manage the church denarius, that is, amounts intended for charity within the Christian community. “Undoubtedly,” he says, “a measure must be observed in charity: generosity should not turn into wastefulness. It often happens that healthy and strong people persistently demand that almost everything collected in the church be spent on them. If you give them as much as you can, they demand more. If you give in, they will steal everything. Measure your generosity so that even these pretenders do not leave you without support. The main thing is to ensure that the truly poor are always provided with timely assistance.” There is so much truth in the following words of Ambrose: “there are petitioners posing as unpaid debtors. Check to see if these debts actually exist. Others say that they were robbed by robbers - let them present evidence. You cannot listen to requests only with your ears - you need to make sure for yourself how urgent the need is. Help first of all those who bashfully hide their poverty.” In addition to the duties that fall into the category of the highest moral duty, Cicero also points to other secondary ones, which he calls the rules of decency. This is almost the same as what we call good manners or decency. Ambrose also does not recognize such a difference. “Only that is decent, what is moral, chaste, holy. Decency is only an external form, he says. - Its essence is moral purity. Moral purity has the same relationship to external decency as the health of the body to external beauty: they cannot be separated. As soon as health is upset, beauty also fades, like a flower separated from the stem.” Ambrose gives remarkable instructions to priests regarding their appearance and treatment of their flock. “The priest’s gait should not be hasty and fussy, his gestures should not be too sharp, his voice should not be too raised and noisy. A priest should not praise himself, nor seek praise from others.” Every public figure should follow these wise pieces of advice. One cannot but agree with Ambrose’s main idea that “the soul speaks in the movements of the body.” In the same way, the touching teaching about friendship and its beneficial influence on the soul, with which Ambrose ends his system of moral rules, can be attributed not only to priests. Obviously, this was a response to the very widespread prejudice of that time that Christians, thanks to their strict deeds of renunciation of all earthly things, destroy the natural bonds of society and family; and mutual sympathies, which decorate and ennoble present life, are worth nothing in comparison with concerns about personal afterlife bliss. Ambrose objects strongly and ardently to such an accusation. Following the foundations of his worldview, he brings together purely human virtue with the commandments of Divine Revelation and refers to examples from the Holy Scriptures. “Keep, my children,” he says, “friendship with your neighbors. There is nothing more sublime on earth than friendship. The most precious consolation is to have a friend to whom you can open your heart and confide the secrets of your soul. A true friend rejoices in your joys, suffers from your sorrows and supports you in trials. Remember the three Jewish youths, whose friendship did not end even in a blazing furnace. Think about David and Jonathan. It is said that “even death could not separate them.” And didn’t the Lord teach: “Make for yourself friends with unrighteous wealth, so that when you become poor, they will receive you into eternal abodes”? The Savior Himself had friends. “You are My friends,” He said to His disciples, “if you do what I command you... I called you friends, because I told you everything that I heard from My Father.” This is what a true friend does: he does not hide anything, but reveals his whole soul, just as Jesus Christ revealed the secrets of the Father to His disciples.” When Satyr died, Ambrose indulged in a natural feeling of grief and found this compatible with the Christian commandment of submission to fate. As mentioned above, the brothers were connected by close friendship from a young age. This friendship was not completely overshadowed, despite the difference in their life fields. Ambrose made Satyr his constant adviser and, so as not to be distracted by the labors of shepherding, he entrusted him with all material concerns about both of them. And now Ambrose, over his brother’s coffin, said a word. This speech is remarkable as a living expression of deep human sorrow, which can find satisfaction in only one source: in faith in the resurrection. The first words of this speech are more like groans, interrupted by sobs. “Oh my brother, where will I go alone? What will I do without you? Even an ox searches for its yokemate and roars when he is not around. How can I forget the one with whom I have until now carried the burden of life? I don't want to hide my tears. The Lord Himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus, but Lazarus was only His friend. I lost my brother." With a heart full of bitterness, Ambrose recalls the circumstances of this death. Shortly before his death, Satyr was sent to Africa on business. The ship on which he was returning home, caught in a storm, was wrecked. Everyone thought Satyr was dead. “What was my joy,” continues Ambrose, “when I saw him alive, he saved himself by swimming. But human happiness is unreliable - I was not destined to rejoice for long. Death awaited his brother on earth. Until the last minute I didn't think he was dying. Bending over him and taking in his dying breaths, I vainly wanted to pour my life into him.” Human sorrow, however, could not defeat Christian hope in Ambrose. In his misfortune, he began to see the hand of Providence, directing everything towards a single and good goal. First, he remembers how difficult and threatening times are coming. “And isn’t it better that the Satyr is dead now? Otherwise, he would have to fall into the hands of invading barbarians and witness the complete destruction of society, and perhaps the end of the world. Taken from the earth - isn't he now participating in a better life? This hope consoles me. She draws a line between those who believe in Christ and the servants of idols. The pagans mourn their friends so inconsolably only because they consider them lost forever, for death for them is endless. We, who have accepted faith in the resurrection, are not afraid of the end of earthly life.” Taking a last look at the remains of his brother, Ambrose exclaims: “Oh, dear features, even death could not distort you! I would like to admire you for a long time, but it’s time! Let's go to the grave. Brother, you precede me in the tomb, which will be common to us. From now on, it will become the most desirable place of calm for me. Both in life and after death, you and I will be inseparable!” Every day Ambrose taught the people who flocked to him. Five years passed in such selfless holy labors. These sermons, supported by signs and wonders, raised Ambrose to the heights of general respect. How far the fame of the Bishop of Milan spread can be judged by the reception he received in Rome. When Ambrose, after a long absence, again visited the places where he spent his youth, he was given a real triumph. The crowd crowded in his way, everyone wanted to see and hear him. The poor turned to him for help, the sick for healing, as miraculous power was attributed to his prayers. In order to enter his home, he was forced to flee from these manifestations of delight. Ambrose found his house deserted. His mother was no longer alive; only his sister Marcellina met him. There was a great difference between the mood and hopes with which Ambrose once left this house, and the position to which God subsequently called him. Now neither Ambrose nor Marcellina expected the joys of real life. Their speeches were only occasionally interrupted by bright memories of the past. They recalled how Ambrose, in children's games, representing his father or teacher, demanded signs of respect from his sister, which she did not want to show him. “But I foresaw the future then,” he said, laughing. “Will you now refuse to kiss the bishop’s hand?” But for the majority of the Romans, who rendered the highest worship to the emperor, it was not so much the holiness and wisdom of the glorious father of the Church that mattered, but rather the favor that he enjoyed from the emperor. This was mainly the reason for the honor accorded him in Rome. And, indeed, the day came when respect for Ambrose, as Gratian’s closest adviser, was shaken for some time. Ambrose remained in Rome for several months. At that time there was a famine there. Partly due to crop failure, partly due to the delay of sea transport with grain, on which the existence of the eternal city had always depended, the population of Rome suffered from poverty and was worried. The senators of the pagan party, still dissatisfied with the prohibition to restore the altar of the Goddess of Victory, took advantage of this opportunity and cleverly turned the irritation of the people against the Bishop of Milan, accusing him of depriving the city of a cult that had long contributed to its well-being. But Ambrose, by example of his personal generosity and passionate preaching in the church, managed to convince many wealthy Christians in Rome to show true feelings of public charity. Then all accusations against Ambrose were forced to fall silent, and on the day of his departure the people with great gratitude escorted him out of the city gates. A difficult test awaited Ambrose upon his return to Milan. He was informed that one of those coups had occurred, which were not uncommon in those troubled times. A military mutiny broke out among the legions located in Gaul. The army decided to overthrow the legitimate emperor and elect another, hoping in this way to obtain some benefits for themselves from the new government. One of the military leaders, the Spaniard Maximus, who was said to be distantly related to Theodosius, was elevated to the throne. In Gratian's absence, the treasonous movement quickly spread throughout the province. At the first news of this, Gratian went there himself. But it turned out that of all the local authorities, only the prefect of the city of Lyon did not take part in the conspiracy. He alone gave the emperor the appropriate welcome and honor. Having sworn allegiance to the Gospel, he invited Gratian to stay in his house. But despite this, the conspirators that same evening entered the feast arranged for the emperor and strangled him in front of everyone. Defending himself from the murderers, Gratian called on Ambrose in a dying voice. What did he want to ask him for? Is it about protection here on earth, or about prayers before heaven? This event was a cruel test for Ambrose. Ambrose dearly loved his royal pet and hoped that he would set himself the task of fulfilling his cherished desire - to establish complete unity between the Church and the state. With the death of Gratian, Ambrose's position was shaken and this caused joy in the ranks of his opponents. The Arians and pagans, previously depressed, now noisily expressed delight, especially when it became known that Justina, on whose support they were counting, was hurrying to Milan with her son, in order to defend for him those areas of the Empire that would be possible. But the disappointment of these parties was great when Justina, upon arriving in Milan, immediately went with Valentinian to the bishop's house and entrusted her son to the care of Ambrose. No one expected such a step from Justina. However, it soon turned out that this was done not out of trust in Ambrose, but out of subtle political calculations. The sudden overthrow and death of Gratian led the Empress Mother into confusion. In fact, what should have been the fate of her young son, when even Gratian, almost ripe for full possession of power, could not defend his rights. Apparently, there was no point in thinking about the return of the entire West. But who knows whether the thief will be satisfied with the share he has already seized? Gaul, Spain and Great Britain in themselves constituted a rather enviable lot, although an attempt to seize other provinces seemed quite possible. It was possible to offer Maxim a peace deal only on one condition: that the agreement be concluded before the rebellion spread beyond the Alps, and while Africa, Italy and the coastal Danube provinces, in which the memory of Valentinian the father still lived, remained loyal to his rightful heir. The matter could not be delayed. But who could be entrusted with such mediation? Who would dare to go to the camp of the indignant legions? Will they accept the ambassador there - whoever he is - and will they listen to him? Will they bribe him with gold, or frighten him with threats? Peering at the courtiers around her, Justina could not find anyone she could confidently rely on in such an important matter. And so the idea struck her to look for such a person not at court, but in the Church. And she involuntarily remembered Ambrose. Indeed, who better than him could defend the interests of her son? In whom could you find more courage, honesty and experience? Who would be able to avoid getting entangled in the enemy's networks? These qualities of Ambrose, the strength of which she experienced during a long and silent struggle with him, Justina now had to pay tribute to. Therefore, she immediately went to the Bishop of Milan and began to beg him to take upon himself the conduct of negotiations, completely alien to him as the shepherd of the Church. Was it proper for him and even did he have the right to agree to the empress’s proposal? Ambrose hesitated, but then some moral considerations prevailed. This mission required great dedication from him. The Empress Mother, who had been at enmity against him the day before, now begged him to look at her as a weak woman and to be in danger for the sake of her child. Didn’t this, together with taking upon oneself the defense of the weak, mean helping to strengthen one’s most dangerous enemy? The feeling of Christian charity was strong in Ambrose, and he agreed to Justina’s proposal. Thus, for the first time in the annals of history, the servant of the kingdom of God, which is not of this world, was called to mediate in a purely political matter. If the Church in this case embarked on a new path, on which nothing could move it until now, then it did so in response to the pleading calls of the widow and orphan. The embassy consisted of a bishop and one of the military leaders, namely Bauton. They set off immediately, despite the harsh season, when crossing the Alps and traveling through the countries of the north was extremely difficult. When Ambrose arrived at Maxim's residence, he negotiated with the dignity and caution of an experienced statesman. Maxim was amazed at the luck with which the embassy achieved its goal. Indeed, it was not beneficial for him to expose himself to unnecessary accidents. In addition, even earlier he himself was inclined to think about dividing the West with Valentinian, in whom, thanks to his young age and inexperience, it was impossible to imagine a dangerous rival. In order to establish an agreement on the division of the Empire, or rather, in order to dictate the terms of this agreement himself, Maxim had previously sent one of his tribunes to Justina, namely Victor, whom Ambrose met in Mainz. As much as it seemed necessary to Ambrose to act urgently, at the same time it was important not to rush into concluding an agreement. It was necessary to give Justina time to strengthen the passes through the Alps and enlist the support of Theodosius in the East, with whom Gratian always tried to maintain friendly relations. Upon arrival in Trier, Ambrose immediately realized that Maxim was inclined to a peace agreement, but was only pretending that, in concluding peace, he was generously condescending to the position of Valentinian. Ambrose decided, in order to achieve his goal, to spare Maxim’s vanity. Therefore, despite the exaggerated arrogance shown towards him by Maxim at the official reception, Ambrose pretended not to notice it. “Why didn’t Valentinian come to me himself? - Maxim asked with contemptuous condescension, “I would have met and accepted him like a son.” But Ambrose, of course, could not give up the royal baby as a hostage and thus allow the possibility of a new murder. Therefore, barely restraining his indignation, he replied: “Could a minor come here without a mother? Is it possible for a child and a woman to travel when there is turmoil everywhere and even in such a harsh winter?” “Well, let’s wait to see what news Victor brings us,” Maxim answered with hidden annoyance. This wait lasted several months, as Justina deliberately delayed the negotiations. Thanks to this, until Victor returned from Milan with the signed terms of the treaty, Ambrose remained at the mercy of this arrogant soldier. On the way back, Ambrose found the Alpine passes already well protected. From this he was convinced that his time of testing had not been wasted, and that Maxim would now hardly dare to launch offensive actions. Meanwhile, the party of suppressed paganism decided to take advantage of Ambrose's departure. Admirers of the Goddess of Victory found this moment very favorable for the restoration of her cult. During Ambrose's absence, no one was able to block their access to the throne. The shaken power was in the hands of a child emperor and a woman, who were not difficult to intimidate. Dissatisfied senators decided to send their representatives to Milan again. The famous and respected statesman Symmachus was entrusted with drafting the petition. His name has appeared more than once in our story. Symmachus managed to give a captivating form to this document, which remained forever memorable. He understood that the restoration of the cult of Victory should not seem like a return to old paganism - this would confuse the conscience of Christians. Therefore, Symmachus tried to take a point of view that many might consider broader and loftier than the point of view of Ambrose. “The Deity,” he says, “can be worshiped in various ways. But if one of the religions is especially closely connected with the destinies of the fatherland, if it, more than any other, is the religion of great memories, then does it really deserve persecution? Symmachus thus defended the freedom of religious faith and supported his request with a remark directly directed against the person under whose influence this freedom was suppressed. “Being loved and respected is better than being threatening and commanding with violence. The Senate rebels against those,” he says, “who put their personal ambition above the interests and glory of the emperor himself.” He then continues: “We again claim the free exercise of religion, which has so long served the benefit of the state. Only a minion of the barbarians, the primordial enemies of the eternal city, could desire the destruction of the altar of the Goddess of Victory. And giving in to this desire would be a bad omen. Let them at least give to the name of “Victory” the worship that is denied to her as a deity... I implore you, your Majesties, resolve this matter in such a way that we can bequeath the memorable lessons we received in childhood to our offspring. Only in this way can historical tradition be maintained... If this altar falls, where then will we take oaths of allegiance to your laws? What then will frighten the treacherous and keep them from giving false testimony? Of course, God is everywhere, and for perjurers there is no refuge anywhere. But still, the presence of a sacred image inspires disgust for crime. This altar served as a bastion of public peace; it also contains a guarantee of fidelity to all promises in private matters. Nothing gives more force to the orders of the Senate than that they are issued by oath before this altar. And will this high assembly really become a place where the ban on perjury has been lifted?” The tone of the complaint gradually rises, becomes stronger, and now through the lips of Symmachus Rome itself seems to be saying: “Sovereign sovereigns, fathers of the patronymic!” calls out to the eternal city. “Respect the antiquity that I have achieved under the shadow of this law, leave my original rites inviolable; I have never yet had to repent of my loyalty to them. Let me live according to my will and follow my customs. This cult of the goddess of Victory drove Hannibal from my walls and the Gauls from the Capitol. Did I really live so long to see my shrines desecrated? We ask for immunity for the gods that our ancestors worshiped,” continues Symmachus. - Of course, the highest wisdom teaches that there is only one Supreme Being, to whom the common worship of all people is due, since we all see the same luminaries, the same firmament is above us all, and we all live on the same earth. But isn’t it indifferent how each of us seeks the truth? There are many ways to uncover the great secrets of nature.” This petition was submitted to the Imperial Council for consideration and the outcome of the matter was already in flux. Many members of the Council belonged to paganism; others, for political reasons, considered it necessary to spare his adherents. But, fortunately, there was no rush to open the meetings. At this time the bishop of Milan arrived. He was immediately informed about what had happened, and he immediately turned to young Valentinian with a letter in which he asked to show him the message of the Senate. At the same time, Ambrose reproaches the emperor for allowing a religious issue to be openly raised before the authorities without first consulting with those who stood guard over the Christian faith. “When it comes to war,” he says, “you rush to consult with experienced military leaders. When it comes to religion, you should have turned to the true God and consulted His servants.” The Senate's message was conveyed to Ambrose. When he heard about the demand for freedom of religious conscience from those who themselves had denied this freedom to Christians for so long and so cruelly, he was extremely surprised. “Do not force anyone to profess faith when there is no spiritual inclination towards it. - says Ambrose. – Personal faith is a matter of personal conscience, private freedom. But, sir, do not let your freedom be taken away from you: they require you to confess statehood, and this is the sphere of freedom of the imperial power.” The Council could not fail to take these arguments into account, and the Senate's petition was submitted to Ambrose for conclusion. Ambrose rebelled against paganism with all the strength of his ardent Christian conviction. He exposed the false methods of proving paganism in their true light; Even the very facts of history that Symmachus referred to were turned by the saint against him. “If indeed these idols protected Rome, then why did they allow it to fall into real decline? After all, Hannibal reached the very walls. The Gauls even managed to penetrate into the Capitol - only the cry of geese stopped them... And do you really think to honor the voice of your Jupiter in the cackling of geese! Were these not the same idols that Hannibal worshiped? Why did some suffer defeat, while others suffered victory?” And, imitating Symmachus, Ambrose also forces Rome to have its say. “You are not saying what Rome thinks. Why, he would say, do you daily stain me with vain blood, sacrificing entire herds of animals? The guarantee of your previous victories was not in fortune-telling by their trembling entrails, but in the valor of the warriors. No, I conquered the world with a different art. With an iron weapon, Camillus threw the Gauls off the Tarpeian rock when their banners were already flying over the Capitol. Those whom the pagan gods were powerless to repel were defeated by military courage. And it was not through superstitious prayers at the foot of the Capitoline altars that Scipio acquired the name of Africanus, but through his courageous struggle. In vain do you want to bind me to the example of my ancestors... I hate the faith that Nero professed... I regret my past errors and am not ashamed that in my old age I have been given the opportunity to be reborn along with the whole world. It's never too late to learn the truth. I did not know the true God before and in this I was like the barbarians with whom I fought.” Then, turning to Symmachus and his friends, Ambrose says: “Come and join us in the heavenly army! Learn the secrets of nature from the testimony of the Creator Himself about them; and not from the vain speculations of mortals who have lost their way. Who can I trust about God more than God Himself? And how could I believe you, who yourself say that you don’t know what you worship... You claim that it is not possible to come to knowledge of the creative secret of nature through more than one path. And I will tell you: God Himself taught us what is hidden from others. What you are trying in vain to unravel has been revealed to us by the Incarnate Divine Wisdom Herself. There is nothing in common between our way of thinking and yours. You ask the emperor for permission for the existence of your gods, but we ask Christ for grace and peace for the emperors themselves.” Then, turning to the complaints of Symmachus about the deprivation of the vestals of income from sacrifices, Ambrose reveals the inconsistency of this community of virgins who take a vow of chastity for a certain number of years. He also touches here on the difficulties with which it was necessary to replenish their composition to only seven - and this despite all the lures of almost royal honor: - they were allowed to wear purple, they went out to the people only accompanied by lictors. The saint ends his speech with words filled with ardent faith in the need for a general renewal of the ancient world. “We are reproached,” he says, “for abandoning the customs of ancient paganism. But isn’t perfection the destiny of all creation? And the universe did not settle right away. At first, the germs of the elements, collected into one, rushed in empty space while darkness spread confusion over the entire monstrous chaos of matter. Then the sky separated from the earth and took its rightful place. Then the primal substance took on forms, the beauty of which we admire, and, finally, the earth, freed from the darkness that weighed over it, itself seemed surprised, feeling itself illuminated by lights. So it is with the sun: when it rises, it does not immediately appear in all its royal radiance; its light and warming power increase only gradually. In the first months of the year, the earth is bare and dead, but the further you go, the more luxuriously it is decorated with flowers and fruits. In childhood we are weak and imperfect, our mind develops only with age. Let the one who accuses us of innovation turn with the same reproach to the sun for its gradual rise, and to the seed for its leisurely ripening, and to the vine for the fact that it bears fruit only in autumn. Our harvest is the souls of those who believed in Christ; The Church is the vineyard of the Holy Spirit. The first flowers in this vineyard were the righteous who walked with God from the beginning of the world. Now this vineyard has grown among all nations. For the faith of Christ everywhere takes possession of the minds of ordinary people, not because of their ignorance. No, on the ruins of idolatry that previously reigned, she triumphed with the power of her truth and righteousness!” Finally the day came when one decision or another had to be made. Both documents were read at a meeting of the Imperial Council, chaired by Valentinian himself. Ambrose's speech affected everyone present so strongly that none of them dared to openly object a word, although some found the tone of the Milan bishop too authoritative... And suddenly the young emperor, as if inspired from above, stood up and broke the silence. “I cannot,” he declared, “change what my brother did; I do not want to yield to him in reverence for God. They point out to me that our father did not destroy this altar; yes, but he didn’t restore it either. I will imitate him: I will not change anything that was done before me.” It was as if Daniel himself, speaking at the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, Ambrose later spoke. No one dared to object to him, and the Senate’s petition was rejected during the forced silence of the pagans who participated in the meeting. The importance of the service Ambrose provided to the state was recognized by everyone. The success he achieved in just a few days created such a prominent position for him that there was a murmur among those close to the emperor. They said loudly that Ambrose should not have been allowed to occupy such an influential position in the state simply because he was a bishop. They tried in every possible way to reduce his influence on the emperor. In order to induce him to make concessions to the secular authorities, they came up with an idea to accuse him of lack of respect for it. Since there was no way to enter into a fight with Ambrose on the basis of defending dying paganism, it was more profitable for Ambrose’s enemies to transfer the fight to the ground where Christians themselves were divided into parties - one had only to join one of them. Incited by such zealots of secular power, the Arians, who had hitherto kept in the shadows, and in the time of Gratian had little by little lost their influence on the affairs of the state, now began to assert their claims. Since Justina began to give the Arians a friendly welcome at court, their number has increased significantly. Many of their like-minded people moved from Sirmium to Milan as part of her retinue. They were led by a bishop of Gothic origin, like most Arians. He was forced to take the name Auxentius, in order to thus revive the memory of Ambrose's predecessor in the See of Milan. For worship, the Arians were given one of the outbuildings of the palace, where the stables had previously been located. But soon the Arians demanded one of the large basilicas in the city for themselves. The highest authority, without hesitation, made an order that this demand be satisfied. Valentinian, not well versed in matters of faith, thought that he was dealing only with the branch of Christianity, and did not see anything tempting in the patronage of the Arian party. His mother had a clear preference for the Arians, and this example did not remain without influence on him. However, fulfilling the will of the emperor was not as easy as it seemed at first glance. It was necessary to first warn Ambrose, since without his knowledge it was impossible to take away one of the churches in his bishopric. Ambrose was invited to the palace. There he was received by the emperor, surrounded by high dignitaries. Valentinian dryly and briefly, as if repeating a learned lesson, ordered Ambrose to liberate the Basilica of Portia. “I do not have the power to give it away, and you also do not have the right to take it away from Christians,” answered Ambrose. “The law protects the inviolability of even a private home. How do you decide to take possession of the house of God? “But I also have the right to this basilica,” the emperor objected, amazed at Ambrose’s fearlessness. “No, you do not have such a right,” the Bishop of Milan decisively answered the emperor. Some of the dignitaries present intervened in these arguments. The argument could have dragged on if it had not been interrupted by noise coming from the street. Fear for Ambrose raised crowds of people to their feet. A rumor spread that Ambrose was called to the palace for trial; the judges’ hostility towards him was known; they even said that his life was in danger. And now the Christians, who constituted a huge majority in the city, besieged the palace and threatened to break down the doors just to protect their bishop. Indignation increased even more when it became known that the matter was about transferring one of the sanctuaries to heretics. The military leader demanded that the people disperse. But the Christians answered: “kill us, we are ready to die for the true faith, but we will not leave.” Here Justina had to see how much the imperial power, despite its apparent greatness, was shaken. Moving from arrogance to the consciousness of her powerlessness, Justina, with the unexpectedness in a change of mood characteristic of women, trembling with fear, began to beg Ambrose to go out to the people and calm them down. - What will I tell him? – asked Ambrose. - Promise that the basilica will not be given to the Arians. Then Ambrose went out to the people. His appearance and guarantee that the empress’s promise would be fulfilled immediately brought silence. Public peace was restored, but the importance of imperial power was dealt a heavy blow. Ambrose's popularity increased even more thanks to the events of this day. When the danger had passed, those close to the emperor began to deny the significance of this new merit of the Bishop of Milan. They said that the indignation was his own doing and, as proof, they pointed out that his few words were enough to calm the crowd. Justina felt in a false position. She was deeply wounded and promised herself to take revenge on Ambrose at all costs. And, indeed, the very next day, court officials came to him with an official order to give the Arians not only the Basilica of Porcia, but also the recently erected large cathedral. This cathedral basilica was located next to the house of Ambrose, and the Bishop of Milan himself performed divine services in it. At the same time, Ambrose was ordered that this transfer be done quietly, without causing any unrest among the people. But Ambrose's answer was unchanged. The next day - and it was Palm Sunday - he went to the cathedral basilica and began to celebrate the Eucharist. The church was full of people. Everyone enthusiastically greeted the courageous bishop. At that moment, when Ambrose was approaching the altar, the praetorian prefect approached him and, fearing new unrest, began to whisper to him to cede at least one Portian basilica to the Arians, promising in return to arrange for the Arians themselves to voluntarily renounce the cathedral church. But the people understood what was being said. - No, no, saint, don’t give in! - they shouted at him from all sides. Ambrose, having finished the service, began to instruct the catechumens who were preparing to be baptized on Easter night. While maintaining outward calm, Ambrose, however, secretly in his heart was tormented by grave fears. What worried him was not the demand for concessions - he did not even think of conceding what his pastoral duty commanded him to defend to the end - he was embarrassed by the mood of the crowd, every minute ready to break out in a rebellion, the consequences of which were impossible to prevent and measure. For what could calm the people's anger? Ambrose was horrified that the blood of not only his selfless defenders of the people and soldiers, but also completely innocent citizens who were accidentally suspected of sympathizing with the empress could be shed here. And if a rebellion rises, where will it stop? Will it not cover all the provinces subject to Valentinian? It would be a great grief for Ambrose if civil strife occurred because of him, and moreover in a city where he himself was the main guardian of order. “While I was performing divine services,” he later said, “I was informed that the people had captured a certain Catullus, who was said to be a presbyter among the Arians. This news brought bitter tears from my eyes. During the offering of the bloodless sacrifice, I fervently prayed to God to arrange so that not a single drop of blood would be shed in defense of the Church. I asked the Savior: let it be better for my blood to be shed for the salvation of the people and these wicked people. And I immediately sent priests and deacons to free this presbyter from the hands of the angry crowd. When they told me that armed people would now come to occupy the basilica, horror pierced my heart. I was afraid that this violence would cause bloody civil strife, and the city, which could have become the capital of Italy, would be reduced to ruins. And I prayed to God that I would not live to see such a misfortune.” Under the influence of these thoughts, Ambrose came to the following decision: while remaining steadfast in the performance of his duty, he would not allow himself a word or gesture that could seem to the people or government to be a call to rebellion. Thus, any responsibility for what happened fell entirely on his opponents. He stopped appearing in both disputed basilicas and performed divine services in the third, which served as a baptismal sanctuary. It was opened only recently and was located in a completely opposite part of the city. This course of action, decisive but at the same time cautious, put the minions of the court in a difficult position. They did not dare to start an open struggle with the Orthodox, the outcome of which in a city with such an agitated population seemed doubtful. They hoped that Ambrose would either be frightened or take some defiant step that could justify the cruelty of the measures being prepared against him. For three days, armed detachments stood at both basilicas, but they, however, were ordered not to cross the church threshold. Then they tried in every possible way to bring Ambrose out of the peace of mind into which he had withdrawn and which tied the hands of his enemies. They resorted to exhortations and threats. “Come to your senses,” they told him, “after all, you are resisting the will of the emperor!” Do you intend to seize power yourself and become a tyrant? - “What have I done that you suspect me of such plans? – Ambrose answered reproachfully. “When I was informed that the basilica was surrounded by soldiers, I said to myself: I cannot give it to the wicked, but I also will not dare to shed blood to keep it. Is this tyranny!? I have no other weapon besides the name of Christ. If I really strive for tyranny, why do you hesitate to lay hands on me? The Old Testament high priests consecrated others to the kingdom, but never seized power themselves. The Gospel teaches us this too. When they wanted to take Christ and forcibly proclaim him king, He hid from the people. By this He gave us an eternal example of renunciation of worldly power. Let the Emperor better remember his real enemy, from whom God has protected him until now. Let him remember Maxim, because his access to Italy was blocked only by my efforts.” “But at least promise not to let the people start an uprising,” they told him. – The only thing I can do is not to excite people. Now only the Lord can pacify him. Noticing among the emperor’s messengers several Goths serving as military leaders in the Roman legions, he took them aside and said reproachfully: “Did Rome accept you into service so that you would support unrest in it? Where will you find refuge if all order is overthrown here? Meanwhile, the excitement among the people intensified and became more and more threatening. Fearing reprisals from the crowd, the Arians hid in their houses. Lower imperial officials also did not appear on the streets for fear of being accused of sympathizing with heretics. All sorts of oppressive measures were taken against the merchant class, zealously devoted to the Church. The state treasury imposed new taxes and penalties on them and exacted them with merciless severity. “Let them oppress us, let them take double, triple duties from us, but true faith must be inviolable!” As for Ambrose, he returned home every day at the end of the service, leaving, as before, his doors open to everyone. With Easter approaching, everyone felt that it was time to end this uncertain situation one way or another. And, indeed, Ambrose was notified that an order had already been issued about the confiscation of the cathedral basilica, and the soldiers were in a hurry to decorate the entrance to it for the reception of the emperor - he had to appear there himself in order to install its new owners in it - the Arians. Then Ambrose announced that those who take part in the execution of this decree will not be allowed to receive Holy Communion on Easter; then he went to the baptismal, where the people were waiting for him, and there he calmly began to explain the reading from the book of Job that was due for that day. However, his speech was soon interrupted. The sudden noise of weapons, and then the measured steps of approaching soldiers, threw his listeners into confusion. If they decided to take away the large cathedral basilica, then one could think that they were coming here with the evil intention of laying hands on Ambrose himself. Screams of horror began to be heard among the women. But soon the first of the soldiers who entered began to calm the people, saying that they had not come for violence, but to join in the common prayer. It happened this way. The soldiers indeed refused to obey the orders of the authorities. And this was done not in order to move from one master to another because of greater benefits, but under the influence of reverent devotion to the true Church and respect for the truth. When they began to say that the emperor himself would now come there, shouts were heard among the soldiers: “Let him come! If he joins the true faith, we will follow him; if not, we’ll stay with Ambrose!” Then the people, seeing that there was armed force on their side, hastily rushed to the cathedral basilica and occupied it. Some began to tear down the draperies and decorations hung on the walls for the emperor's reception, and the children divided the scraps among themselves. And in the very church to which they wanted to deny Ambrose access, they were now preparing an enthusiastic meeting for him. But since Ambrose firmly decided not to enter into a fight with the authorities, he had nothing to celebrate and victory. He considered it his duty to resist the encroachments of the authorities on the sanctuary of the Church, but adding new blows to the defeat that was well deserved by this authority was contrary to his spirit. Therefore, Ambrose limited himself to sending his priests to the cathedral basilica to celebrate the Eucharist, while he himself continued the conversation he had begun with the people remaining in the baptismal sanctuary. Addressing the soldiers who showed such devotion to the Church, and sharing common joy in front of this undoubted manifestation of Divine Providence, Ambrose praises the patience that was shown in these circumstances by the people - in this patience Ambrose believed the reason for the mercy of God. “I tried to inspire you with reverence for the patience of Job, but among you I found new Jobs worthy of wonder. In each of you, Job seemed to come to life again with his spirit. Could there be a more worthy answer for Christians? The Holy Spirit himself put it in your mouth. We ask the most merciful emperor, but we do not enter into a fight with him; We are not afraid of him, but we tearfully beg him.” At the end of his speech, Bishop Ambrose reminded his listeners that the Holy Scriptures report more than one case when the advice of women led the kingdom to a bad end. At the same time, he cited the words of Job, who said to his wife: “You speak like one of the foolish women.” Ambrose wanted to warn the young emperor against his mother’s unkind advice, under the influence of which he had just committed acts worthy only of regret. The sermon ended, but the bishop did not want to return to his place, fearing that his appearance on the streets of the city even in the evening would give rise to demonstrations, which he wanted to avoid. Zealously protecting the rights of the true Church of Christ from the claims of the Arians, Ambrose knew in advance that the court he had offended would not forgive him for this jealousy. It was clear to everyone that, given the state in which the empire was, the displeasure of the army could not be neglected, and that by Easter it was necessary to remove the military guards from the church doors, release those arrested and impose heavy fines on the merchants. But these were only forced concessions, and the joy of the people was not shared at court. On the contrary, there was a gloomy mood there, and everyone was extremely irritated. The word “tyrant” was especially lucky: it was on everyone’s lips. There was no other name for Ambrose. Valentinian, conscious of the need to retreat after being forced to go so far, was full of distrust of his entourage and when he was urged to show himself to the troops in order to regain their favor, he replied: “No, at the slightest sign from Ambrose you yourself will hand me over, bound hand and foot!” One of the first courtiers, the eunuch Calligon, met the bishop and attacked him: “You don’t value the emperor at all, you use all your influence to humiliate him,” he said passionately. “But as long as I’m alive, this won’t happen! Otherwise I’ll rip your head off myself!” “Everything is the will of God,” Ambrose calmly answered, “I am ready to endure everything that a bishop must endure, but you do as the eunuch’s heart tells you.” “This is what we have lived to see,” he later wrote to his sister Marcellina, “and God grant that this ends.” The bishop's enemies were forced to hide their evil feelings towards him, and did not show them for a whole year. The peace, or rather the temporary truce, was not broken until the next Easter. To coincide with this solemn day, when all the believers were supposed to gather around their archpastor, a new attempt was timed to get rid of the rebellious bishop. This time every means was carefully provided to deprive him of the possibility of resistance. At court it was believed that if Ambrose, confident in his complete safety, could disobey a simple administrative order that could easily be canceled or suspended, then he would hardly have had the determination to neglect the highest decree, issued in compliance with all formalities and based on the authority inherent in official acts emanating from the supreme power. Therefore, it was decided to issue a decree that, without naming anyone by name, would be directed against Ambrose. In this way they hoped to either provoke him into resistance, which would provide a legitimate reason for his persecution, or force him to yield, or at least put him in a difficult position. Drawing up such a decree required great experience, and this task was entrusted to the notary of the imperial chancellery. But it turned out that Benevolius (that was the name of this person) was a firm adherent of the Nicene faith; Having understood the purpose pursued by the proposed decree, he resolutely refused to draw it up. In vain did Justina, either by promising rewards or by threats, try to persuade him to carry out this assignment, as a normal duty of his service. He took off his belt, which served as a sign of this position, and said to the empress: “Take it. If I have to act against my conscience in order to wear this belt, I refuse my position.” Unable to use the services of the Orthodox, she was forced to resort to those who were most interested in issuing such a decree: the Arians themselves, whose bishop took upon himself to draft it. At the very beginning of this decree it was stated that the Arians had the right to demand the transfer to their disposal of almost all Milanese churches, because the religion, officially recognized and proclaimed the only true one, could not be satisfied with worship in modest chapels. Last year's struggle had to flare up again. The continuation and end of the decree left no doubt on this score. “As for those,” it was said there further, “who think that they alone have the right to gather, then let them know that if they cause any unrest among the people in order to interfere with the execution of this command by the supreme authority, then they will be considered rebels, desecrators of the Church, guilty of lese majeste, for which they will pay with their heads. The same punishment will befall those who resist our command with prayers, even secret ones in private homes.” This was a direct allusion to Ambrose and the prayer meetings he organized. Although the threat applied to everyone who took part in these meetings and everyone could be held accountable for themselves - all eyes immediately turned to the bishop. What will happen to him? What do they want to do with him? The saint alone did not pose this question to himself. “I said,” he answered those who came to inquire about his fate, “what every bishop should have said. Let the emperor do what he wants... Naboth did not want to give up the vineyard of his ancestors, can I give up my Lord!” And the next day after the publication of the decree, as the day before, he also resolutely refused to force the priests subordinate to him to leave any of the churches in which they performed divine services... And, however, they hesitated to subject him to punishment. When the decisive moment came, the hand of the one who was supposed to strike trembled. Instead of the death that the decree threatened, they decided to subject him only to exile and, moreover, on rather lenient conditions. “Get out of town; go wherever you want, and anyone who wishes is free to follow you,” was the order given to him. “I confess,” he said later, “I expected that they would cut off my head or hand me over to be burned; I would willingly accept death for the glorification of the Lord Jesus Christ." But Ambrose did not attach importance to this order, the moderation of which, which stood in such sharp contradiction with the cruel punishments that the decree had previously threatened, testified to the weakness of the government. He made no preparations for departure and did not change anything in his lifestyle. At the usual hour, he left the house and went wherever even the most unimportant matters called him, or visited the graves of martyrs. People crowded his way; the poor came to receive his blessing; Accompanied by this retinue of the people, he passed by the palace, in front of the guards, who did not even think of seizing him. “The prayers of the poor serve as my protection.” - he said. The pious people devoted to him, however, did not calm down. Who knows, they might try to do something to him secretly or at night that they wouldn’t dare do during the day. There were rumors that a closed chariot was already standing ready, in which it was decided to take him away by force; others said that hired killers would kill him from around the corner. When Holy Week arrived, Ambrose himself celebrated the first solemn Eucharist in the cathedral basilica. At the end of the service, he wanted to leave, but the crowd, larger than ever, did not allow him to leave, and did not themselves leave. The crowd locked the gates, blocked all the passages and, having settled down in camp, prepared to spend the whole night in the church and in the chambers adjacent to it. Of course, taking these hastily constructed fortifications by storm would not have presented much difficulty, but to do this it would have been necessary to resort to violence, which would probably have resulted in bloodshed. The military leaders sent by the court did not dare to give such an order; they limited themselves to placing a chain of soldiers around the basilica and the buildings adjacent to it, hoping that the Orthodox, exhausted by hunger and struggle, would disperse on their own. The calculation turned out to be wrong: no one came out. Several days passed in this kind of state of siege: the Orthodox did not want to lose sight of Ambrose, fearing that they would then never have to see him again. Ambrose himself, touched by the zeal shown, which he was unable to restrain, only repeated that all this anxiety and excitement was in vain. Whatever God pleases will happen, and all human precautions will be either unnecessary or powerless. One morning they noticed with horror that the doors of one of the entrances to the church remained open all night. Then they found out that a blind beggar had opened them and failed to lock them. “You see,” said Ambrose, “how useless your vigilance is; in the end you still find yourself in the position in which the blind put you.” It was necessary, however, to find a decent occupation for this excited mass of people, determined to stay in the church at all costs. Services may have filled the daylight hours, but the nights were long and the people languished in inaction. Ambrose decided to arrange alternating choirs to sing prayers composed by him, but not yet introduced into church use. The soldiers standing at the gate listened to the slow chants that sounded in the silence of the night; their size could not help but seem strange. In surprise they asked each other if this was not a supernatural obsession, the belief in the effects of which was then widespread, and was it not with these spells that Ambrose kept the people around him? In fact, the Bishop of Milan Ambrose, who was himself burdened by his involuntary imprisonment and at the same time wanting to relieve the people of the boredom and burden of a wait-and-see situation, chose this moment to introduce in his bishopric, which was his long-standing intention, psalmody following the example of the Eastern churches. These kinds of melodies were called antiphons and consisted of separate choirs of men and women singing alternately. The echo that reached distant listeners who did not know the origin of these sounds was amazing. The prayers composed by Ambrose are quite numerous, and it is impossible to say which of them he chose for this occasion. But subsequent biographers readily imagined the following picture: after nights spent half asleep, at the moment when the first rays of the sun penetrated the sacred fence, choirs of either gentle or courageous voices sang the following stanzas: Morning hymn of St. Ambrose. The light of dawn burned over the sleeping earth, But for us the eternal light is Jesus, Hear, O Christ, and reveal Yourself to us, Like Luke on the road to Emmaus. A being outside of time, You are one with the Father, And the Father is inseparable from You. Let us each be a right fighter in the faith And glorify You, Trisagion. In chastity the whole night passed until dawn, The morning is dressed in a crimson veil, By Your grace reconcile us with heaven, Remove the shackles from sins. Let our faith in You merge with the ray Have a radiant, burning day. And that hymn that we sing to You in the church, It will be full of holy fire. Sunset of the day, hello to the coming night Our faith in You will not be disturbed, But in the mysterious hour of "Quiet Light" Hearts are dark and our path will be illuminated. And this time the court did not find anyone who would agree to take by storm the sanctuary where the divine service was performed on the feast of the Resurrection of Christ. Ambrose's enemies were forced to enter into negotiations with him. The tribune Dalmatius appeared to Ambrose with the following proposal: Ambrose must appear in person at the meeting, where the emperor will hear both him and the self-proclaimed Arian bishop in the presence of judges appointed by both sides. The emperor himself does not wish to participate in the decision of this dispute, and in order to avoid any reproach of partiality, the judges must be chosen from among the laity. Auxentius (the Arian bishop) had already chosen his judges. Presenting such a demand to a person who, by virtue of a recent royal command, should have been considered worthy of the death penalty, indicated the instability of the supreme power. In response to this demand, Saint Ambrose sent a short letter to Emperor Valentinian, and at the same time worthy of the high episcopal service. “Where have you seen,” he wrote, “for bishops to be tried by the laity? Or from now on will the laity be the legislators of the Church?.. When you grow up, you will see for yourself how you will treat a bishop who would agree to such a trial... If Auxentius still wants a trial, let him come to the church and let the people decide what kind of bishop they want, I will not be indignant at those who follow him.” In a powerful speech addressed to the Christians in the basilica, Bishop Ambrose described all the hardships he had endured, from the clashes of the past year to those that threatened him at the present time. At the same time, he ended his speech with the following words: “I submit to the Emperor, but I do not yield to him,” and reduced the essence of his speech to a few words: “The Emperor is in the Church, but not above it.” Everyone felt that the danger to the true faith of Christ had passed and its triumph was assured. And Ambrose decided to give public proof of this triumph. The basilica, in which he had just spent several days and nights with the believers, was recently built, and although everything was ready for worship in it, during its consecration one condition was not fulfilled, which Ambrose found convenient at that moment to fulfill himself. It was necessary to place particles of the relics of the martyrs under the throne. Ambrose remembered that, according to legend, the bones of two brothers, Gervasius and Protasius, who suffered during the first persecution under Nero, were buried in Milan. The excavations, which he himself supervised, indeed discovered two skeletons in the indicated place, in a position that was completely consistent with the details of their martyrdom described by contemporaries. They lay hugging each other, in the position in which they met death. The transfer of their sacred remains was accomplished without hindrance. This solemn procession, which passed through the entire city, in itself could already testify to the triumph of the true faith; stories about miraculous healings from touching the relics brought believers to the highest degree of religious inspiration. At this time, the famous teacher of eloquence, the African Augustine, was in Milan, who suddenly announced to his many listeners that he was stopping giving his lectures and devoting himself entirely to the service of the true Church. Although Augustine was still young (he was not even thirty years old), he already enjoyed great fame thanks to his rare talents, which attracted public attention to him. Everyone knew that he was the son of an important dignitary of one of the vast provinces where he was born, that he left his homeland early and went first to Rome and then to Milan to devote himself there to the study and teaching of literature. They also knew that, brought up in the Christian faith and professing it outwardly, he first indulged in sensual pleasures, and then became entangled in dangerous metaphysical speculations. But no one knew that for several years now he had been listening to all of Ambrose’s sermons, carried away by his eloquence, but not yet imbued with the doctrine preached. No one also knew that, despite Augustine’s errors, the bishop of Milan treated him extremely favorably; and when Augustine was not convinced by his speeches, Ambrose himself pointed out to him passages of Holy Scripture that could refute his objections or eliminate doubts. No one knew the hidden workings of this great mind. They also did not know that his worthy mother, a pious woman, also left her homeland and, despite her advanced age, undertook a sea voyage in order to snatch her only, dearly beloved son from the networks of delusion and passions. She was also in the besieged basilica, where, as Augustine later said, she experienced her share of sorrows. There is no doubt that, while offering prayers for Ambrose, she then, as always, prayed for Augustine, who himself later attributed to these maternal prayers his moral revolution, which he depicted with such incomparable art in his work “Confessions.” Therefore, the famous appeal of Blessed Augustine, one of the best men and teachers of the Church, also belongs to the memories of the days described above. “I was only once at a meeting of your Council, and I did it for your good,” - this is how Ambrose once answered Valentinian. When he wrote these words, he - and probably no one else - did not suspect that very soon he would be called there again and on the same matter. And it happened. If he had been possessed by base ambition or vindictiveness, as he was accused of, he could not have received more complete satisfaction. Rumors of popular unrest in Milan reached Trier, the capital of Maximus, co-ruler of Valentinian, whom he forced to cede part of Gratian's inheritance. Possessing undisputed power over the appropriated lands, Maxim took every opportunity to gain the sympathy of the Orthodox, and especially the Gallic and Spanish bishops, who enjoyed great influence among the population. He succeeded in this all the more easily because the Arian heresy never took deep roots in these provinces; and his personal simple faith had not yet been subjected to any test. It was beneficial for him to put himself on display as a defender of Orthodoxy. By this he not only gained the sympathy of the provinces subordinate to him, but also prepared himself among the subjects of Valentinian allies in the struggle, which he decided to begin as soon as the favorable moment arrived to cross the border of the domains imposed on him by force. Therefore, he sent a handwritten letter to the emperor from Trier to Milan in a fatherly, instructive and at the same time threatening tone. “What will I find out? - he wrote to the young emperor. “Do I really have to believe what they tell me, because rumor is never wrong when it comes to the destinies of peoples?” They say that by virtue of your new decrees, Orthodox sanctuaries are forcibly taken away, priests are under siege in their churches, they are threatened, they are punished.” Then followed, probably written by one of the learned Christians around him, an eloquent depiction of the evils caused by the Arian heresy, and an admonition not to deviate from communion with the Roman Church, the most worthy of respect, as well as with the Churches of Africa and other provinces under the rule of Valentinian. Apparently, in this enumeration of the provinces he included a hidden appeal to them. However, he denied any selfish intentions. “Your enemy could desire nothing more than to see you in a quarrel with the Church, that is, with God Himself. But I show so much concern for your youth that, on the contrary, I rejoice at everything that you do good and am sad at the sight of your mistakes. I'm afraid of the responsibility you take on. If I were your enemy, I would not give you such warnings.” In reality, these pious advice were accompanied by demands expressed very sharply. Maximus complained that the boundary line between the two dominions was not sufficiently respected by Valentinian and that Bovton (the same one who was in the embassy of Ambrose), who was entrusted with the defense of the borders, repelling the attacks of the barbarians, throws them back into his provinces. Maximus even accused him of the fact that by entering into an agreement with some German tribes on the delivery of soldiers to his legions, he thereby facilitated their attack on other parts of the Empire. To the surprise of everyone, Ambrose was invited to the Imperial Council. He was called upon mainly to report Maximus' demands. Since Ambrose took part in drawing up a peace treaty that established the division of the two parts of the Western Empire, it seemed natural to listen to his opinion regarding the difficulties encountered in implementing this treaty. It seemed inconvenient to inform him about Maxim’s intervention in favor of the trampled Orthodoxy. It is clear that Justina’s pride had to suffer greatly. If she nevertheless decided to take such a step, then she was probably prompted to do so by the desire to make sure whether there were already any relations between Maxim and the Orthodox, dissatisfied with her son’s policies. These suspicions, if she harbored them, soon, however, dissipated. Ambrose, who generally knew Maxim well, easily saw through his intentions, and in this case clearly saw the threat hidden here under the guise of zeal for the faith. The thought of participating in one way or another in a low and treacherous intrigue inspired him with irresistible disgust. In addition, many things tied him to Valentinian: his youth, his touching sincerity and, especially, the memory of the father he served and the brother he loved. Then his soul also ached for the episcopal dignity, seeing how everyone treated with a feeling of disdainful condescension towards the authority, which he considered it his duty to respect even when he could not obey it. He expressed these feelings in such a sincere tone that he immediately dispelled all suspicions. However, there was no time to hesitate - we had to hurry. Maxim's language, his insidious politeness - everything demanded an immediate response. Ambrose, who had already successfully negotiated with him once before, seemed the only suitable person to deliver him an answer this time too. Thanks to such an unexpected, but so important for Ambrose, change of address, he, who had been disgraced even the day before, was today without any hesitation offered to be ambassador extraordinary, and he, without any hesitation, accepted this offer. It was necessary, however, to find a plausible pretext for such an embassy, ​​otherwise the anxiety caused by the danger, which, however, so far no one had clearly threatened, would have been too visible in all this. Therefore, it was decided that the official purpose of Ambrose's trip would be to demand the release of Gratian's body in order to give him honors on behalf of his brother, which could not be thought of in recent troubled times. Since Maximus always denied his participation in the murder of Gratian, which, according to him, was committed without his knowledge, this demand did not contain any direct offense to him. It was clear, however, that it was bound to arouse the displeasure of Maximus, and Bishop Ambrose, as the extraordinary imperial ambassador, had to be wisely persistent in the upcoming negotiations. Just as during his first embassy Ambrose was restrained, did not allow himself to enter into bickering and disputes, silently enduring the lack of attention and good treatment due to him, so now he showed himself to be firm and decisive in fulfilling the assignment entrusted to him, worthy of the honors due to him, both as a bishop and as an extraordinary ambassador of his emperor. Seeing Maximus' hidden intention to challenge Valentinian to open war, Bishop Ambrose clearly showed that such a challenge could be disastrous for Maximus himself. And Valentinian's Ambassador Extraordinary had reason to be confident of this. Three years of peace calmed the troubled provinces and apparently strengthened the power of the legitimate heir Gratian. True, the general calm was disturbed by somewhat hostile actions of the Arians, who sought to shake the dominance of the true Church of Christ, but Bishop Ambrose did not attach much importance to this, firmly confident that these hostile actions would be destroyed with the help of God. Immediately upon his arrival in Trier, Ambrose had the opportunity to show Maxim that the disagreements arising among Christians on issues of faith could not be resolved by the desire and will of the emperor alone. This opportunity was very convenient, caused by one of those religious issues that Maxim loved to take upon himself, wanting to show himself as a zealous defender and patron of Orthodoxy. Maximus considered it his duty to bring to trial an insignificant Christian sect, called Priscillion (named after its founder, a Spanish bishop), whose errors, more of a philosophical than a religious nature, are quite difficult to determine at the present time. This bringing to trial seemed to deliberately emphasize the complete contrast between the Milanese court, where the true faith was endangered, and the Trier court, which persecuted any deviation from the right belief. Maxim, who willingly flaunted such a difference, perhaps thought that this would give Ambrose pleasure and that he would even thank him on occasion. But proper art and sense of proportion are very rarely found where there is no sincerity. By his excessive display of zeal for the faith, Maxim only confused the religious conscience of those Orthodox Christians whom he intended to win over to his side. From the very beginning he turned religious dispute in criminal proceedings; the accused were sentenced to death, and the sentence was carried out without any regret. This was considered by everyone to be unnecessary and unforgivable cruelty. No one could see without sorrow that after so many years of religious persecution, during which blood flowed in torrents, it was being shed again under the pretext of religious zeal. The trial was conducted in such a way that it was as if the bishops, who acted as accusers against heresy, At the same time, they also took part in the condemnation. Fearing Maxim's displeasure, they did not energetically reject this role. The death sentence pronounced by the servants of Christ was a great temptation. The impression made by the verdict was all the stronger because the pious man Martin, Bishop of Tours, a pillar of the Gallic church, a true apostle, who devoted his life to preaching among the village population and to eradicating the remnants of paganism in the region, was then on business at the court of Maximus. Having learned about the cruel sentence, he protested and immediately left there so as not to remain in communication with those whose servility only humiliated the episcopal rank. Ambrose arrived in Trier at a time when everyone was talking about this event. What will he do? Will he show himself to be as truthful and courageous as Martin, or will he accept the blood-stained hand of the court prelates? If he were more of a diplomat than a bishop; if he had first of all sought a favorable reception at court in order to successfully carry out the assignment entrusted to him, then he could, under some pretext, evade and not express his opinion openly. But not only did he not do this, but from the very beginning he clearly showed his intention not to enter into any relations with the bishops, who put the emperor’s favor above the requirements of his priestly duty. He was clearly aware that, refusing to celebrate the Eucharist with them, he at the same time refused to take Communion with Maxim, who was awarded this sacrament only through their mediation. Ambrose had repeatedly expressed his view on this subject, and had no reason to renounce it now. In his opinion, the priest does not have the right to sentence anyone to death; he should not demand the death of even the enemies of the Church. To do otherwise would be to be like the Jewish rabbis who wanted to force Christ to approve the execution of a woman caught in adultery. Since Ambrose began in this way, he could not be surprised at the reception that awaited him on his first meeting with Maxim. It is worth quoting in full the report he made to Valentinian; Even the smallest details are characteristic here. “The next day after my arrival, I went to the palace. The head of the palace, Galin, a close eunuch of Maxim, approached me. I asked for an audience. He inquired whether I had brought letters from Your Majesty. I answered in the affirmative. He told me that I could only get an audience at a Council meeting. I objected that it was not proper for bishops to be received in this way, and that I had many things to discuss with the emperor personally. He went about report this, but returned with the same answer. It was clear that the first answer was also given by him on the orders of the emperor. Although this is incompatible with my assignment, I still decided to fulfill my duty, since here we are dealing with relations between co-rulers as brothers, and straightforwardness is most needed in such cases. I entered the meeting. The Emperor rose to give me a kiss of greeting. I stood motionless in my place. He calls me and others also tell me to come to him. “Why,” I said, “will you kiss me when you don’t want to know me at all?” If you were favorable to me, you would not receive me here. “Bishop, you are worried,” he said. – I have a reason for this. I'm embarrassed that I'm in a place I shouldn't be. – But during your first embassy, ​​I also received you at a meeting of the Council. “Then I did not object to this, since I was sent by a person asking you for peace, and now I will speak to you on behalf of an equal.” – In whose eyes, one wonders, is Valentinian equal to me? - In the face of God, who gave him power and was able to protect it. The reverent form of this answer did not hide, however, the meaning contained in it, and Maxim could not help but take to heart the challenge presented to him. Ambrose knew that, according to Maximus, Valentinian reigned only by his grace, since recently he could just as easily overthrow him from the throne as his brother, and only the assurances of the same Ambrose prompted him to spare Valentinian. “Yes,” he exclaimed, rising from his seat with anger, “you and this Bowton, who now rules in the name of the child and is setting barbarians against my domain, have cunningly bypassed me! Who would have stopped me when you came to me if I had not stopped of my own free will? I answered him: “You are angry in vain; listen to me calmly. I knew that you would be angry with me and reproach that I betrayed your trust. That's why I came to you a second time. If I had really appeared as the emperor’s savior then, it would have been only a duty, for we, bishops, are obliged most of all to protect orphans. Doesn’t the Scripture say: “You are the protectors of widows and should be a substitute father for the orphans.” But in reality I did not render such a service to Valentinian at all. – How could I stop your legions? Fortifications? By troops? There weren't any. Or was I blocking the Alpine passages with my body? If the Lord had been pleased to perform such a miracle, then there would be no need for me to ask you for forgiveness. – What false promises did I make to persuade you to peace? And in what way do you think Bowton deceived you? He showed devotion to his Sovereign. But did he promise you to cheat on him? And Ambrose began to analyze all the reasons for Maxim’s discontent, proving without difficulty that none of them were founded, that the facts to which he referred (not excluding treaties with barbarians) were only either defensive measures or a response to similar measures taken by Maxim. Then, in the same convincing tone, he moved on to the immediate subject of his embassy, ​​for which the occasion soon appeared, for Maximus himself announced that he would not allow Gratian’s remains to be touched, so as not to awaken exciting memories among the soldiers. - This is not a valid excuse! – Ambrose said as soon as he learned about Maxim’s decision. - So, in your opinion, the same soldiers who abandoned Gratian when he was alive will protect him now after death? Can you say that Gratian was your enemy, and that you had the right to lay hands on him? He was not your enemy, but you were his enemy, for it is clear that the one who attacks is the one who wants to seize power; the one who owns it only defends himself. Give Valentinian the remains of your brother as a pledge of peace. How can you demand that they believe you that you are not to blame for the death of Gratian, when you do not even want to allow his body to be buried? Maxim was irritated, stopped the audience and announced that he would still think about what to do. The order to leave, received by Ambrose the next day, was not a surprise to him. After the conversation described, Ambrose did not force this order to be repeated to himself and left immediately, although he was warned to beware of the ambush that would probably be arranged for him along the way. His only companion was an elderly local bishop, who for a moment succumbed to the temptation of his brothers, felt remorse and distanced himself from them. He was sentenced to severe exile, and Ambrose tried in vain to get him warm clothes and soft bedding under the seat in order to somewhat alleviate the discomfort of the shaking cart. Ambrose had no doubt that as soon as the details of his embassy became known, his enemies would not fail to slander him. Therefore, before his arrival in Milan, he sent a messenger ahead to Valentinian with a letter in which he informed him of everything that had happened. The letter ended with the following warning: “These are the facts. Beware, sir, of this man, under the guise of the world, who is plotting war against you.” This precaution was necessary, but it did not protect Ambrose from the reproaches awaiting him. As soon as this unfavorable news became known, everyone around Justina began to blame the arrogant and intolerant disposition of the ambassador for the unsuccessful outcome of the embassy. To improve matters, it was necessary, in their opinion, to send, as soon as possible, not an “arrogant hierarch” who demands unquestioning obedience from his flock, but a person accustomed to moving around at court and at the same time possessing life experience. The choice fell on Domnin, an old official, a Syrian by birth, who, due to his origin, was credited with the flexibility and resourcefulness characteristic of eastern people. However, very soon it became clear that prudence and art are not always where one hopes to find them. At first everything seemed to be going great. Domnin was received by Maxim favorably and even affectionately. This reception met expectations so little that Domnin, in his reports to the court, somewhat naively expressed surprise at this. All his explanations and apologies were accepted without objection. The grievances seemed to be forgotten, all controversial points were settled to general satisfaction. The experience that was attributed to Domnin should have aroused doubts in him about the true reasons for such a sudden change that had occurred in the emperor, who had so recently been stern and rudely demanding. The fact is that the courage with which Ambrose spoke greatly alarmed Maxim. To speak in such a language, he thought, you need to be aware of the power behind you. If Valentinian has many such servants, and he shares their confidence, then he is no longer a weak and defenseless child, capable of trembling before any threat. “Maxim took into account,” says one pagan historian, “that the road leading from Gaul to Italy was strewn with steep mountains, lakes and swamps, presenting difficult obstacles for a large army to overcome. And he did not dare to challenge, which they were ready to accept so boldly. But when he heard about the arrival of the new ambassador, he perked up. If they are in such a hurry to take back the words of Ambrose, then this shows that there is no strength or disposition to support them. The whole art now came down to choosing the best time to attack.” Domnin, however, was very touched by the signs of favor that were showered on him. He treated them with such confidence that Maxim, as cunning as he was ambitious, found it possible to derive yet another benefit from his compliance. He came up with the idea to achieve, through Domnin, that free passage to Italy would be open to him. Before releasing the old courtier, he invited him to a secret conversation, in which he expressed his readiness, together with Valentinian, to fight against the barbarians, whose invasion, supposedly, now threatened Pannonia more than ever. Although this province was not part of his possessions, both emperors, equally devoted to their Roman fatherland, in whose name they must forget all private scores, were interested in protecting it. Then, as if wanting to set a good example of trust, he expressed a desire to entrust to the superiors of Domnin several of his best Gallic legions, which, under his leadership, would only increase the number of troops at Valentinian’s disposal and allow him to deliver a decisive blow to the age-old enemies of the Roman name. Somehow it was still possible to understand that Domnin, seduced by the prominent role offered to him, could be deceived about its danger and not unravel the motives that guided Maxim. But how could one fail to understand that even in the best case scenario, Maximus’s troops were able to pass unhindered through the Alps, which was extremely disadvantageous for Valentinian? It is even more difficult to understand how Justina and her advisers did not notice the crudely laid trap. It can be assumed that they wanted to fight Maxim’s cunning plans with cunning, and hoped that if the troops entrusted to them were at their disposal, they would be able to not let them go back and, finally, induce them, at the cost of bribery, to turn against Maxim. Be that as it may, the proposal was accepted. Domnin returned to Italy with Maximus's legions, and they passed completely unhindered in front of the garrisons, through mountain passes where the slightest opposition could have delayed them more than once. Maxim, without even waiting for the news to reach him that the Alps had been crossed, and without allowing the population and military leaders to come to their senses, moved himself along with the troops that remained with him along the same road following Domnin. He caught up with Domnin twenty miles from Milan and took command of the legions from him, without even deigning to give him an explanation. Now he - and he alone - was moving at the head of his troops towards the capital, and his intentions left no more room for doubt. General panic began, both at court and in the city. Everyone was in a hurry to hide from danger. The thought of belated and useless resistance never occurred to anyone. Abandoned by everyone, Justina and her advisers themselves left the capital: the Empress, the Emperor, the dignitaries - everyone, ending with the prefect of Italy, Probus, Ambrose's old friend and patron, hastily fled. The runners stopped only for a while in Aquileia, but Justina soon saw that she was not completely safe there either. She boarded a ship with her children in one of the remote harbors of Dalmatia and, rounding Greece, headed to Thessaloniki to surrender under the protection of Theodosius. Italy was left to the mercy of Maxim, and the only Ambrose, who had recently offended him, remained calmly waiting for him in Milan. Immediately upon arriving in Thessalonica, Justina sent an ambassador to Theodosius to ask for his protection. Hope did not deceive her. Theodosius agreed. The eight years that had elapsed since Gratian divided the Empire with this brave warrior were well used by him: the eastern half of the Empire recovered from the blows dealt to it by the despotism, vanity and mediocrity of Valens. The dissimilarity between him and his successor was complete. Without seeking power, Theodosius was called to it; using it, if he did not show genius, then in any case he discovered precious qualities that were so necessary for fulfilling the tasks that fell to his lot: honesty, common sense and strong will. He strove only for good, and if it seemed to him that the path to its realization was clear, then he achieved this realization, overcoming obstacles with a rare combination of moderation and perseverance. Thanks to him, it was possible to correct the evil caused by the Adrianople defeat. Entering into treaties with each of the indignant tribes separately and thus again drawing them with their authorities into the sphere of Roman influence, he at the same time again erected and strengthened those border fortifications; which were demolished by waves of barbarian invasions. Perhaps he should have used even more labor, perseverance and skill to calm down the religious strife so unwisely aroused by Valens. Of course, he himself was strictly Orthodox and did not hesitate for a minute about which teaching to follow. The very next day after his accession to the throne, he hastened to cancel all decrees directed against those professing the Nicene Symbol. Prolonged and cruel persecution always leaves sad traces, for it rarely happens that persecution does not cause disagreement even among those who endured it, but did not withstand it with the same courage and prudence. The outbreak of discord among the Orthodox themselves prompted Theodosius to convene a council of bishops in Constantinople, and this council also more than once required his personal intervention to restore harmony. His exhortations, aided by Divine grace, eventually gave precedence to the spirit of the world, and the Council of Constantinople ended with a series of decrees that put it in first place after the Council of Nicea in the series of ecumenical councils of the Church. For his wise management, Theodosius was rewarded (which so rarely happens to rulers) with popular gratitude. A striking example of mercy, shown by him under circumstances that only increased its significance, has recently gained him well-deserved popularity. Heavy taxes, made necessary by the extremely difficult situation of the treasury, caused a popular revolt in Antioch, the glorious metropolis of Asia Minor. The irritated crowd went so far as to insult the personality and family of the emperor. According to the law, this was punishable by the most severe punishment and the death sentence had already been pronounced on the main culprits. But Theodosius, heeding the requests of Bishop Flavian, agreed to first cancel this sentence, and then, in expressions of paternal condescension, granted a full pardon to the guilty. Everyone praised the generosity of the monarch, which, to the honor of the Church, was attributed to the Orthodox faith and sense of mercy that inspired him. Thus, Theodosius, thanks to the calm that he was able to establish in his part of the Empire, was able to respond to Justina’s pleas. In truth, they were not unexpected for him. He always had a negative attitude towards attempts to seize power through a military coup. As soon as it became known about Maxim's accession to the throne, he already decided to go to war against him in order to punish him for betrayal. But the demands of state necessity delayed him in the East, and then, in order to attack Maximus in Gaul, he had to first go through Italy, where he had not yet been called. However, if he was then forced to recognize the power of this treacherous co-ruler, now he would never want to have him as his neighbor. Besides this, he honored the memory of Gratian, who had sought him out in his secluded retreat to share the power with him, and now he would feel ungrateful if he left in misfortune the brother of the one to whom he owed the Empire. As soon as he learned of the arrival of Justina and her son, he immediately ordered imperial honors to be given to them and he himself went to meet them along with the main members of his council. They brought Valentinian to him, and he, pressing him to his chest with fatherly tenderness, said: “My child, let the misfortune that befell you serve as a lesson to you. Understand that it is not with weapons, but with justice that you can strengthen power. Trust my experience on this. Only thanks to their piety could emperors maintain discipline among their troops, defeat enemies and emerge unharmed from all trials. Such was the happy fate of Constantine the Great and your father, Valentinian. On the contrary, your uncle Valens, who brought confusion into the Church by the murder and expulsion of its saints and bishops, was himself delivered into the hands of the barbarians and his remains were consumed by fire. They say that the man who expelled you from Milan is more faithful in the service of Christ than you. Your unorthodoxy is his strength. For to whom will we turn in prayer in battle if we turn away from the Lord our Savior?” Adversity makes a man wiser, and Valentinian, who was soon to be fourteen years old, was already prepared to understand this touching lesson. He threw himself into the arms of his patron and vowed never to deviate from Orthodoxy again. “With such a speech,” the Bishop of Milan later said to Theodosius, “you did not return the Empire to him, no, you returned him to the path of faith!” From then on, both the interests of Orthodoxy and political considerations equally commanded Theodosius to come to the aid of the sovereign, who had become a victim of treason. The example of this betrayal could become contagious, and it was necessary to give a lesson to those who would dare to imitate it. To make it clear that he considered the young emperor's cause to be his personal matter, he decided to immediately become related to him. Not long before he had lost his dearly beloved wife, with whom he lived very happily, and there was nothing to indicate that he wanted to put an end to his widowhood. Given the known severity of his lifestyle, this should not have burdened him. Therefore, everyone was amazed by his second marriage to Galla, Valentinian’s sister, whom Justina took with her when fleeing Italy. From this, Maxim could understand even before war was declared what kind of enemy he would have to deal with. He had to understand that he had to fight with the entire military force of the Eastern Empire, led by an experienced leader, whom fate had always favored until now. But even besides this threat, Maxim experienced extreme anxiety, seeing the hostility with which the insidious deception that gave him power over the country was met, first in Milan, and then throughout Italy. As soon as the first excitement passed, everyone showed silent submission, but it was only a kind of dumbfoundedness from the surprise of the coup. There was nothing like the delight with which he imagined he would be greeted by the Orthodox, who thanks to him were freed from the petty and captious management of Justina. Ambrose, for very good reasons, did not take a single step towards him, and not a single Orthodox Christian could rush to where the bishop hesitated to go. Unable to count on the help of someone with whom he had not been willing to reckon before, he tried to rely on Pope Siricius, who occupied the Roman throne after the death of Damasus. Having addressed him in writing with assurances of filial obedience, he took credit for preventing the conspiracy that was being prepared against Orthodoxy and threatening the Church with innumerable disasters. The answer of Siricius, whom Ambrose, perhaps, warned against a rash step, has not reached us. Instead of the blessing, which took a long time to wait, a deputation from the Senate appeared to Maxim, again with the same Symmachus at its head; he delivered one of those panegyrics with which it was customary at that time to decorate the accession to the throne of monarchs. These expressions of submission on the part of the party, chasing the ghost of past power, only caused him difficulties. They had to be content with replacing some adherents with others, and this replacement was very unprofitable. Not wanting, however, to let the deputies go unsatisfied, he sent with them from among his adherents the praetorian prefect, to whom he gave only one instruction not to violate freedom of worship. The new official, thinking to please his master, ordered the reconstruction of the synagogue, which had been burned by Christians - as rumor had it - during popular unrest. This fact attracted the attention of Ambrose, who did not fail to take advantage of it in due time. Of course, all this did not predispose the Orthodox to change the cold restraint with which they treated Maximus, under the influence of Ambrose. However, Theodosius did not allow his enemy to enjoy peace for long. Having made a definite decision, he proceeded to implement it with all his characteristic energy and perseverance. Less than two months had passed before Theodosius was already on the border of Pannonia, where in two battles that followed immediately one after the other, he defeated and put to flight the army of Maximus, who did not even dare to take leadership. The second day of the battle did not have the character of a real struggle: already at the very beginning of the battle treason was revealed; Obviously, the troops had no desire to share the failure of the self-proclaimed leader, and fled in disorder. The soldiers of Maximus's guard tore off his purple robe and crown, tied his hands and brought him to the winner's tent. Theodosius wanted to spare his life for the sole reason that he did not want to set an example of revenge to the young monarch who accompanied him, but this was not part of the calculations of the traitors, who feared that their own lives would not be safe if they left Maxim alive, for in those troubled times death was the only way to prevent a possible turn of the wheel of fate. After the execution, Theodosius hastily went to Milan. Valentinian accompanied him, for Theodosius wanted to share with him the triumphal meeting that awaited him. The latter attached great importance to this, because he wanted to show that he did not expect any reward for himself for the help provided to the young co-ruler. From the very first day it became clear that a new division of the Empire would not follow and that Valentinian would add to the provinces lost and reconquered for him those lands that had previously been given to the power of Maximus. Theodosius could have taken advantage of his victory and demanded the expansion of his own possessions, but did not do this: he wished to retain for himself only what he received from Gratian himself. But such unselfishness, although it was undoubtedly sincere, left no one in the dark. In reality, the Empire had only one head - Theodosius; Valentinian reigned only by the grace of Theodosius and had to be guided in his actions by his advice. There is no reason to think that Valentinian wanted to get rid of this leadership; at that time there was no one around him who could instill in him such an idea. Only Justina could have wished for this, but she, as one historian claims, either died by that time, or considered it prudent to stay away from her son. Thus, in the city that became the capital of the entire Western Empire, only two people attracted general attention: Bishop Ambrose and Emperor Theodosius. Their first meeting must have been a very impressive spectacle, and it is a pity that Ambrose’s correspondence, very rich in details valuable to history, did not leave us any information regarding this event. There is no doubt, in any case, that complete mutual trust was soon established between them, as could be expected given the complete agreement of their views and feelings regarding the pressing issues of the time. Both of them looked at the close union between the Church and the Empire not only as the highest goal that should always be pursued, but also as the basis of their common, so to speak, political system. Theodosius, as we saw earlier, saw the salvation of the Empire only in its unconditional devotion to Christianity, and from this it naturally followed the conclusion made even earlier by Ambrose that strict adherence to the dogmas and canons of the Church is the best means of promoting the good of the Empire. There should be not only hostility, but even division between the Church and the Empire. This community of thought formed the basis of the relationship between the bishop and the emperor. Ambrose, of course, did not expect that something similar to the purely paternal patronage with which he treated the young and inexperienced Gratian would be established between them. In turn, Theodosius, who had reached the pinnacle of power and glory, being in the full flower of his strength and talents, did not seek and, probably, would not have tolerated such tutelage; but there was no need for him to defend himself from such claims, for Ambrose always reluctantly and only at his request left the circle of affairs subject to his jurisdiction as a bishop. Thus, there is not the slightest trace that he received from Theodosius such extraordinary powers as he had from Justina in difficult moments, contrary to his own as well as her will. Between the bishop and the emperor, worthy of each other, full of consciousness of their tasks, friendship was established, based on a strong feeling of mutual respect and affection. The test, which could have shaken this friendship, only led, as we will see below, to its strengthening. On rare occasions, Ambrose was forced to defend what he considered either his episcopal right, or one of those principles of morality, the protection and sanctification of which God entrusted to the Church. In such cases, he did not wait until he was asked for advice. He carried out, or, better said, instilled the truth, relying on the authority of his rank. In order to awaken the slumbering conscience of the omnipotent ruler and drown out the servile chorus of flatterers surrounding him, the saint sometimes raised his voice. But a sense of respect for the royal power always made him remember that he must stand guard and defend only one truth. Soon everyone became convinced that the influence of Ambrose, although perhaps manifested less frequently than in the time of young and inexperienced emperors, was stronger, especially when the vital interests of the Church were affected. The Senate, as a sign of gratitude to Theodosius for restoring his legitimate power, decided to bring him congratulations through a deputation specially chosen for that purpose, which was entrusted with the usual praise in such cases to add an urgent request that the glorious winner honor the eternal city with his precious presence. And this wish was not insincere. Ever since Constantinople was founded, Rome felt abandoned. For thirty years, the citizens of the ancient capital, which once ruled the world, saw only one of the sovereigns - Constantius, the son of Constantine, and even then he left there so quickly that his stay was not imprinted with any lasting memories. The rarity of such visits only increased their price, and the emperor, having won two battles, could be sure that he would be given a real triumph, reminiscent of the splendor of the best times of Rome. Although Theodosius was little attracted by any external splendor, he did not remain completely indifferent to this request. He felt that the consecration given to his power in Rome itself, the center of the Empire, and placing his rights under the protection of the great historical memories, would be of the greatest importance - and he could not neglect it. That is why he paid attention only to the legal essence of the request that attracted him, and did not notice, or did not want to notice, some confusing phrases where the speaker on behalf of the Senate (the same Symmachus) carefully hinted that on the day when the new benefit bestowed by the Goddess of Victory would be glorified, it would perhaps be fitting to give her the honors that she had been deprived of recently. Having not immediately received any response to their request, the deputies were pleased at least that they did not hear a refusal. But the speeches of the Senate never aroused confidence in Ambrose. Warned of what had happened, he immediately went to the emperor and made him understand what they wanted from him. “I presented him,” he said, “my explanations.” Theodosius was surprised by them, but did not give any definite answer. Ambrose did not appear in the palace for several days. His absence was noticed and duly interpreted. In the end, the deputation left without receiving any promise from the emperor that could be used. “He was not angry with me,” Ambrose later wrote, “and this is because I dared to speak to him in such language not about my transitory interests, but for the sake of saving my soul and his.” Theodosius, apparently, understood that the hesitation he allowed, which would have been given great importance by everyone, only thanks to the open censure of Ambrose, did not distort the nature of his visit. The result was what Ambrose could only have wished for. Christian friends who were in Rome hastened to rally around the emperor, and there were more of them than ever. “True faith,” says one modern poet, “has never acquired so many converts, especially among senators, as in these days of triumph and glory, when it seemed that new successes were giving a second youth to the decrepit state.” But while Theodosius, trying to use his stay in the West, accepted the triumphal meeting, although not for the sake of empty vanity, but to strengthen the fruits of his victory, at the same time, unrest began in the eastern Empire, where his hand was no longer felt. The weakness of the Empire was that the personal presence of the head of state was necessary everywhere; where this was not the case, internal decay, which had long been eroding the exhausted organism, manifested itself. Even during the war against Maximus, under the influence of rumors that had spread about the defeat of the imperial troops, the Arians of Constantinople raised their heads and, attacking the Orthodox, set fire to the entire quarter where the dwelling of Nectarius, who enjoyed the special trust of Theodosius, was located. The next day, the Orthodox, in turn, not being able to moderate their joy at the victory of Theodosius, indulged in revenge. There was unrest in the villages inhabited by the Arians; On the banks of the Euphrates and at the foot of the Taurus, the fanaticism of some monks flared up. Jews and heretical sects could rightly complain about the violence inflicted on them and the destruction of their homes, without any reason on their part. News of these events, which reached Theodosius in large numbers and quickly from various directions, extremely upset him. He could not see without sorrow that the world, restored, as it seemed to him, at the cost of his continuous efforts and all kinds of harsh measures, was again collapsing, thanks to the fanaticism and passions of several individuals, extremely excited in their zeal for the faith. He would willingly have inflicted the most severe punishment on all disturbers of the order without distinction, but his young son Arcadius, whom he appointed as his governor in Constantinople, with the title of Augustus, stood up for the Arians, who showed repentance, and begged his father to free him from the sad necessity of beginning his reign with harsh measures. Theodosius, who dearly loved his children, considered it necessary to grant this request. There remained the Orthodox, with whom he was especially angry, because they, showered with all kinds of favors, protected by edicts, had the least reason to violate the legal order. He looked at these events as a manifestation of ingratitude, repaying him with evil for the good done. What was especially bad was that, as they informed him, not only a few unreasonable monks were guilty, but also the bishop of the main city of the Osronian province, Callinicus himself, who was accused of incitement. The high position of this person only aggravated the severity of his guilt, and Theodosius, not wanting to deal with the analysis of this case himself, entrusted it to officials; when asked what to do, he answered: “the law is clear and must be applied with all its force”... And according to the law, it was necessary to sentence the bishop to restore at his expense the buildings destroyed during the rebellion: among these buildings was the Jewish synagogue. Ambrose was not in Milan at that time; and since these events were not directly related to him, he was not notified of them in a timely manner. When he found out about what had happened, he was greatly embarrassed. Now he sent a letter from Aquileia, where he was then, to Theodosius, protesting against this turn of events. And, indeed, there was much in this straightforward decision that gave rise to fair criticism. Firstly, the guilt of the bishop in the act attributed to him was not at all so clearly established; then, he was punished without trial; and, finally, since pardon was publicly given to the guilty heretics of a big city, then why not extend this mercy to the Orthodox of a remote and unknown province, whose guilt has not yet been proven? Finally, was it not possible to find another way to correct the damage caused, so as not to force one of the archpastors of the Christian Church to confess before the enemies of the Church who crucified Christ? Saint Ambrose's letter to Emperor Theodosius was neither a defensive speech in favor of Bishop Callinicus, nor an appeal to a higher judge, nor, much less, a request for pardon; it was a formal protest based on some dogmatic principle. Whether the bishop is guilty or not of excessive zeal, which is reproached against him, he cannot in any case be sentenced to the construction of a building in which Christianity itself may be subject to reproach. Such indirect aiding of false belief would be sacrilege on his part; to force him to do so would mean either to bring him to shameful weakness or to force him to resistance, which should not retreat even before martyrdom. This reasoning regarding this case, although clothed in oratorical form, is of such a fundamental nature that it could well be extended to all of Christianity and to all times. Ambrose wrote to Theodosius: “Prosperous Sovereign. I am always almost burdened with affairs or sorrows, but never have I felt such great anxiety as now, when I see that I am in danger of taking part in sacrilege. I beg you, listen to me; for if I am not worthy of your attention, then I am also unworthy to make a bloodless sacrifice for you, to be your confessor and prayer book. Should you not incline your ear to the request of him whom you have so often listened to in the affairs of others? An emperor should not be afraid of frank speeches, but a clergyman should not hide his thoughts.” Having then mentioned the fall of Maximus, which followed shortly after he committed an act of weakness, similar to the act that Theodosius, at the suggestion of his advisers, was preparing to commit, Saint Ambrose continues: “Think about the path you are embarking on! You must be wary of both the courage and the weakness of this bishop. If he turns out to be courageous, you will make a martyr out of him; if he turns out to be cowardly, you will be the culprit of his downfall. For if a weak person succumbs to temptation, then responsibility falls on the one who forced him to sin. Aren't you also afraid that the bishop will come and tell you: “Yes, I did all this, I set fire to houses, I gathered a crowd and incited them; punish me, but spare others.” This deception would be salutary: it would bring forgiveness to everyone else, and a martyr's crown to him. And then, pay attention to the way in which you intend to carry out this sentence. You order your governor in the East, who appears everywhere accompanied by banners on which the sign of the cross triumphantly flaunts, to go and restore the synagogue! Try ordering these banners to be brought into the synagogue. Let's see who agrees to carry out this order. We know from history that when the ancient Romans erected churches to idols, they buried the corpses of the Cimbri there. Now Jews will write on the front of their synagogue: “a temple built on the bones of Christians.” The exhortation ended with the following words: “This is the request that I have now made before you with the greatest respect. I am trying to bring it to your ears in the palace, so that I will not have to force you to listen to it openly in the church.” Did Theodosius not understand this warning, or did he find that the severity of the address to him was disproportionate to the event and went beyond the limits of the frankness that could be allowed: only Ambrose returned to Milan without receiving an answer, and nothing allowed him to think that the decision about which he complained would be reversed or at least mitigated. The protest related to an event taking place far from Milan, and its details were little known here. Therefore, when Theodosius appeared in the church, and Ambrose preached a sermon on this occasion, those present for a long time could not understand the meaning of the topic he had chosen. As the text for his sermon, he took a verse from Jeremiah: “I see the rod of the almond tree.” The interpretation he gave of this text was that this rod signified the priestly authority, established by God for the benefit of the soul, and not for the indulgence of those whom it was to lead. He began to develop in detail the idea that the work of Christ was both mercy and justice, and that His servants should therefore both forgive and punish for crime. Then looking for examples in the Old Testament that a priest has the right to subject a sinner to forgiveness that saves him, he recalled the prophet Nathan, who addressed David with a public decree. But God sometimes forces the prophet to speak in a language even more severe than that preserved by the Holy Scriptures: “God has showered you with His blessings, but you give His Name to reproach before His enemies, humiliating one of His humble servants.” The hint was dark for the listeners, but not for Theodosius. From the embarrassment that showed on his face, it was clear that he wanted to find out whether all this really applied to him. Then Ambrose added, looking him straight in the eye: “Yes, sir, not only to you, but also about you - I’m speaking. Think about it, the more glory God has given you, the more you must serve Him. You must love the body of Christ, and this body is the Church. You must wash, kiss and anoint Her feet, that is, honor the least of Her servants, and if any of them are guilty of anything, then forgive, for the angels in heaven rejoice at the forgiveness of a sinner.” “When I finished,” Ambrose wrote to Marcellina the next day, he came up to me and said: “So, you chose me as the subject of your sermon?” “I said what I thought would benefit you,” I replied. Then he said: “I agree that it was somewhat extreme on my part to force the bishop to rebuild the synagogue, but I have already commuted this sentence; your monks often cause great evil.” The commander of the cavalry, Simazius, who was standing here, intervened in the conversation and began to express his indignation against the monks. “I am speaking to the emperor,” I answered him, “as it is proper to speak to him, for I know that he has the fear of God in him.” Still standing before the emperor, I continued: “Act in such a way that I can pray for you with a clear conscience; take the burden off my soul.” He sat down and gave a sign that he would do what was possible, but still did not make a definite promise. Then, seeing that I was still standing in front of him, he announced that he would change his mind. “Refuse punishment completely, for any punishment will give the governor an excuse to torment Christians.” Then the emperor finally promised to fulfill my request. “So,” I told him, “I begin the sacred rite, relying on your word,” and I repeated it twice: relying on your word. “Believe my word and go perform God’s service,” he said. I walked up to the altar. If he had not given me a definite promise, I could not have done it. The divine grace that descended on me during the service made me feel that I had done something pleasing to the Lord, and that it was She who helped me achieve what I wanted. One can imagine the excitement and dull murmur of those present during these negotiations between the bishop and the emperor - negotiations, the subject of which was unknown to anyone. Everyone only saw that it was the emperor, and not the bishop, who yielded, albeit with obvious displeasure. Ambrose's moral authority not only did not waver, but even increased thanks to this explanation. One could only fear one thing: that Ambrose’s victory was too complete, that the emperor, deep down in his soul, was offended by the concession, which was not so much voluntary as forced. In this case, there could be court servants ready to play on the pride of the monarch, as well as other persons hostile to church authority and ready to return to a topic that has already been used more than once - both dangers when the bearer of the episcopal rank seeks to play a predominant role in the state. The bishop of Milan loudly stood up for the cause of justice and mercy. Having forced himself to listen this time, he could expect that in other circumstances, even more important, his intercession might not be accepted, and silence would be considered weakness. Under the existing state order, he took upon himself a difficult task and heavy responsibility, despite the fact that the best of the emperors sat on the throne. Subsequent events, however, showed that Ambrose was at the height of his hierarchical service. We have already said that while Theodosius was trying, before his departure from Milan, to put the affairs of the West in order in order to leave the young co-ruler with completely consolidated power, at that very time the order in his own Empire was shaken, which plunged him into great anxiety. The unrest caused by the punishments, the severity of which was mitigated by him at the insistence of Ambrose, was nothing compared to the huge rebellion that broke out in the city of Thessalonica. This time the matter took such a turn that the most insignificant reasons led to bloody consequences. Thessaloniki is the main city of Macedonia. It would seem that there was nothing to fear from rebellion here, since those reasons that served as an eternal threat to order in other places were absent: Orthodoxy was professed here by almost everyone and the Thessalonian Church was proud of the fact that it was founded by one of the first in apostolic times, and, moreover, by the most famous of the followers of Christ, the Apostle Paul himself. Theodosius, who knew how well the residents of this city treated him, chose it as his residence, entrusting its management to one of his best friends, Bavterik. Nowhere was the news of his victory over Maxim greeted with greater joy than here, and Bavterik considered it his duty to commemorate this event with a series of brilliant festivities, the most interesting of which were circus competitions, the favorite entertainment in eastern cities. One of the race participants showed miracles of dexterity, and after each competition he was given an enthusiastic meeting. Unfortunately, this was a man who was on trial. Convicted of a number of crimes, he was sentenced by the ruler to imprisonment. The crowd loudly demanded the pardon of their favorite. Bavterik did not agree. The explosion of indignation throughout the city was so great that the troops were unable to cope with the rebellion. Bavterik, who personally commanded the troops, died in a street battle, the main military leaders were torn to pieces, and the maddened crowd with their corpses staged a solemn procession through the city. When the news of these bloody follies reached Milan, Theodosius at first fell into a gloomy, depressed mood, but then burst into anger, truly terrible for everyone who knew him. He threatened the guilty with the most terrible punishments. It seemed to him that his friend's blood was calling him to revenge. The corpses of his servants became toys for the crowd, the signs of imperial power were torn and trampled underfoot, but what outraged him even more was that all this happened in a Christian city out of a thirst to free some buffoon from the punishment he deserved. Between all kinds of threats, he came up with the following careless decision: “All the residents participated in the crime,” he said, “so let them all be punished!” Did Ambrose know about this when he came to him to calm him down? A modern biographer claims that the Milanese archpastor, having said a few words, which were received by Theodosius as favorably as always, left with the firm hope that after the first attack of anger, mercy would prevail 2. If Theodosius had truly calmed down, this state would soon have been disrupted by those close to him. It is not even known whether Ambrose’s hasty intervention contributed to the acceleration of the terrible outcome that was being prepared. And in fact, could there be a better opportunity to end the influence of the bishop? Religion had nothing to do with these sad events, which did not at all threaten the interests of the Church, so its ministers could not interfere in the choice of punishment for this crime, and Ambrose could not complain that he was not consulted about a matter that was exclusively a matter of state. Theodosius' minions reminded him that he himself had expressed displeasure at how often Ambrose was the first to learn about the decisions of the Supreme Council. It was therefore necessary to take measures so that nothing would reach him, and so that he could learn about the decision made only when it had already been carried out. It was decided to maintain the strictest secrecy; In order to eliminate unwanted interference in this matter by Ambrose or others, Theodosius decided to leave Milan for a while until the order sent to Thessalonica was received on the spot. Thus, no one, except for a few close associates, was prepared for the news that struck everyone like thunder. Bauterik's deputy, interested in punishing his killers, took the cruel words of Theodosius literally and carried them out with the cruelest precision: since the whole city together committed a crime, then all of it must be punished. And Bavterik’s deputy wanted to surround this punishment with conditions that were perhaps more similar to those in which the crime was committed. With secret mockery, the people were summoned to the same ill-fated circus to attend games similar to those that gave rise to the rebellion. When the arena was filled with unsuspecting spectators, they were surrounded by warriors and, at a given sign, attacked the defenseless crowd, killing, without distinction of gender or age, everyone who came to hand. The beating continued for several hours and was renewed in all parts of the city, wherever the unfortunate fugitives tried to find refuge. The streets and squares were drenched in blood and littered with corpses. It must not be allowed that Theodosius prescribed or even could have foreseen this disgusting combination of treachery and cruelty. One can even assume that he himself began to fear that his words would not be understood too literally, and therefore hastened to soften them with an additional order, which arrived on the spot, however, too late. But even if this were so, the original verdict was still sealed with his signature, and he, and no one else, had to bear responsibility for it before the indignant public conscience. It was against him, and not against the subordinate executors, that cries now rose from one end of the empire to the other. If this bloody massacre caused indignation among everyone else, then how must Ambrose feel! For him all this was as unexpected as for others, but this surprise further intensified his grief. Despite the fact that he did not receive a direct promise of pardon for the criminals, he still reassured himself with the hope that he managed to exert some influence on Theodosius; Therefore, noticing that his further interference could be harmful, he decided to prudently stay away. But reality exceeded all his expectations. At the time when the terrible details of the beating began to spread throughout the city, Gallic bishops passing through Milan were sitting with him. They were returning from Rome, where they obtained from Pope Siricius a ban on those of their brethren who, out of a desire to please Maximus, took part in the execution of Priscillian. Naturally, the subject of their conversation with Ambrose was the sin of the ministers of the Church who took part in the condemnation to death, and they all severely condemned this sin. The conversation could not have been more suited to the circumstances of the moment. “As soon as this news became known,” writes Ambrose, “there was not a person who did not grieve and did not speak about it with indignation.” No one allowed the idea that Ambrose would cover up this terrible deed, forgive Theodosius his grave sin without repentance and allow him to receive communion. “I saw that the unfavorable shadow cast by this matter on Theodosius would partly fall on me if I had not gone and told him that he must repent of his sin before the Lord God.” Ambrose was not mistaken. Indeed, all eyes were on him. He was known to have access to the court; whether he was there as a clergyman or as an adviser on state affairs, rumor claimed that nothing was done there without his knowledge. This was the case during the reign of Gratian; why would it have been different under Theodosius? Did Ambrose know about this ruthless order? No one allowed the thought that he could approve of him. But what measures did he take to warn him? They knew from experience that Ambrose, when necessary, decided to speak very frankly and knew how to force himself to be listened to. Wouldn't obsequious silence, under such conditions, be equivalent to complicity in a crime? If, on the contrary, he knew nothing, then he now had to speak out loud in order to clear himself of suspicion of unanimity. If the matter was still about his personal honor, he would have the right to remain silent, for there is no offense that a saint filled with Christian humility could not forgive. But here the dignity of the Church itself was affected. The high rules of morality, which the Church openly preached, condemned such a sinner to public repentance. Unshakably strict towards people of lower status, will she become lenient towards the monstrous act of a royal person? Leniency in this case would be no less a temptation than the crime itself. Theodosius repeatedly assumed the role of supreme defender of the Church. Did this give him the right to violate all her instructions with impunity? Was it possible to think that the Church forgives all sins in advance to those who stand up for her rights and protect her from opponents? But what then is the use of such fruitless and selfish devotion to a holy institution? All the benefits of converting the Empire to Christianity became doubtful, for why was it necessary to abolish pagan temples if Christian emperors could appear at the altar, where the cross replaced idols, comparable in their cruelty to Emperor Nero? And Ambrose, without the slightest hesitation, decided to immediately demand from Theodosius public repentance before God. As a spiritual shepherd, he had to take care of every soul entrusted to him by God. The soul of Theodosius was especially dear to him. Ambrose saw that she was in great danger, and that only he alone could save her from what the Holy Scriptures call “mortal sin.” But what remedy could awaken the emperor's conscience? This question required some thought. First of all, Ambrose needed confidence that he would be listened to to the end. The matter now was not about a secret or not yet carried out sentence, which could be canceled without noise, as was the case with Bishop Kallinikos. Before everyone's eyes there was a terrible event that received loud publicity; the evil was irreparable, or it could be corrected only by admitting one’s guilt and public repentance. Will the emperor decide to do this, humble his pride? Will not even one exhortation to repent seem to him an unbearable insult? Fearing that excessive haste would damage the decision made and at the same time experiencing malaise caused by excessive fatigue, Ambrose went to rest at the country estate of one of his friends. In this way, he avoided the need to appear when Theodosius arrived, as he usually did as a sign of respect even after his short absences. A few days later, when there was no longer any doubt that his absence had been noticed, the Bishop of Milan sat down to write a letter to communicate the sad reason for his departure. “You know,” wrote Saint Ambrose, “how highly I value our long-standing friendship and the favor you have shown me. You will understand, therefore, that it was not easy for me to refrain from greeting you on the occasion of your arrival, which at any other time would have delighted me. If it had not been for what happened at Thessalonica, I would have preferred to die than to postpone for two or three days the fulfillment of this debt of gratitude to you. But here I could not do otherwise.” Bearing in mind that at court they were very dissatisfied with the bishop’s knowledge of everything that was happening in the Imperial Council and that it was decided there to keep him away from the current political events, Ambrose continues his letter to the emperor: “Should I not have heard anything and, as the fable says, cover my ears with wax? If I should have raised my voice right away, then I could have brought disfavor upon myself. If I had become silent, it would have been even worse, because it would have bound my conscience. A servant of God who does not warn the erring one and leaves him to die in a grave sin unrepentant commits a sin himself. Allow me, therefore, to speak frankly with Your Imperial Majesty. You fear God, I know this, but you have a hot temper, your heart either calms down or flares up even more: in the first case, you incline toward mercy, in the second, you completely lose power over yourself. Therefore, I wanted to leave you alone with yourself for a while, so that under the influence of your piety you could overcome yourself.” Concerned about the good and salvation of the souls entrusted to him by God, Ambrose further speaks in his letter as a true archpastor, regardless of the fact that the emperor himself committed a great sin in this case. “What happened in Thessalonica,” he declares decisively, “has no parallel in history! Now there is only one way left to at least slightly correct the evil - to sincerely and deeply repent. Will you, sir, not have the courage to do as King David, the ancestor of Christ in the flesh, did, and say what he said to the prophet Nathan: “I have sinned before the Lord!” Having then recalled other examples of repentance spoken of in the Holy Scriptures, he continues: “I remind you of these examples not in order to hurt you, but in order to erase sin from the memory that your reign will leave behind. You can only atone for what you have done by humbling your soul before the Lord, for sin is washed away only by tears of repentance. Even an angel or archangel cannot say to a sinner: “I will be your salvation.” You are a man with free will, you yourself succumbed to temptation, and you yourself can overcome it. I advise you, I ask you, I conjure you, to do so, for I grieve beyond measure, seeing that you, who served for so many years as an example of piety, so often showed love for mankind and many times pardoned criminals, have destroyed so many innocent people. No matter how great the glory you acquired, know that it was crowned only by your piety. And it was the devil who decided to steal your honor from you. Push him away from you before it's too late. I personally have nothing against you, you know this, but great fear takes possession of me for your soul. I will not dare to celebrate the sacraments of the Eucharist if you are present. I would not have the right to do this if you had shed the blood of even one innocent person. Can I dare to do this when you have destroyed many thousands? I am writing this letter with my own hand so that no one except you and me will read it.” Ambrose, obviously, wanted Theodosius, under the impression of this letter, to recognize his grave sin and bring repentance. The saint did not say a word here about what punishment Theodosius would have been subject to according to the canons of the Church if he had not repented of his sin. And, however, this caution was not appreciated. Whether Theodosius showed the letter to his associates, and they tried to falsely interpret its meaning, or his pride was too wounded to report it to anyone, Theodosius, apparently, decided not to pay attention to this letter, hoping that Ambrose would not dare to denounce him publicly. And so, as usual, he appeared for the liturgy in the large basilica with his usual retinue. But as soon as he entered the vestibule, Ambrose, in full robes, met him at the very threshold. “Stop, sir! - he said in a stern voice. “I see that you are not aware of the grave sin you have committed, and even now, when your anger has calmed down, your mind still does not realize the full gravity of your guilt. The supreme power in your hands obviously blinds you, and unlimited opportunity to do whatever you want clouds your conscience! Remember, however, that all people are perishable, and that we will all have to return to the dust from which we were taken. Don't flatter yourself! Brilliant purple covers your body, which is just as weak as other people’s. Both you and those over whom you rule have the same nature, and we are all subject to the same Lord. For all people have only one true Lord - the Creator of all things, God. With what eyes will you now look at the church of this Creator? How dare you tread the floor of His sanctuary with your feet? How will you stretch out your bloody hands to Him? How can these hands touch the holy Body of Jesus Christ? How will you bring His Blood to those lips that with one angry word shed the blood of so many innocents? Leave here and do not add a new sin to the one that already weighs on you. And know that the prohibition imposed on you by the Church is the only healing remedy that can still give health to your ailing soul.” These harsh words plunged Theodosius into embarrassment, which was clearly reflected on his face. He listened to them with his head bowed and for minutes tears appeared in his eyes. He left silently, without taking a single step to cross the threshold of the church, for he understood that the bishop was speaking to him as his archpastoral duty commanded him. But although the emperor's conscience was shaken, the political considerations that guided his mind still inclined him to resist. The fear instilled in him by his advisers that a power was being created rivaling the secular power, and that this new power would check the actions of the established state power and thus become the only source of law, suppressed the voice of conscience that awoke in him, and for eight long months he did not take a single step towards reconciliation with the Church; Ambrose, for his part, did not agree to the slightest relaxation. All relations between the Church and the imperial court were severed. The further, the more serious the situation became, and when Christmas approached, everyone asked whether on this day of common joy the emperor would remain the only Christian who did not have the right to participate in the greatest holiday of the Church, alone would not welcome the coming of the Savior into the world. And he himself, lonely and sad, sat in the depths of the palace, sadly asking himself the same question. In one of the moments of such painful reflection, Rufinus, the prefect (chief) of the court, entered him on business and found him with his head bowed and in tears. Rufinus was precisely one of those advisers who insisted, if not on carrying out the terrible order, then at least on the idea of ​​not allowing control over secular power. "What's wrong with you?" - he asked in a tone that conveyed a disdainful reproach for his weakness. “You cannot imagine, Rufinus,” said Theodosius, “how I suffer. All churches are open to thieves and beggars, they freely enter there to pray to God, but for me the churches are closed; The doors of heaven are also closed to me, for I cannot forget the words of the Savior: “And everything that you bind on earth will be bound in heaven.” “Just that? – answered Rufin. “I’ll go to the bishop right now and get the ban lifted from you.” “No,” said the emperor, “you will not be able to soften Ambrose, because his sentence is fair, and I understand that all the power of the emperor will not force him to violate the rules of the Church.” Rufinus insisted, and the emperor finally allowed him to go to Ambrose; Perhaps he harbored a faint hope in his soul that the request of such an important dignitary would seem to Ambrose to be sufficient satisfaction, for from this it would be clear what value was attached to his judgments. And he decided to follow Rufinus at a short distance himself, in order to quickly find out how this attempt would end. But the result was exactly the opposite of what Rufinus wanted. Since he always played the role of a messenger conveying the emperor’s orders, Ambrose thought that now he had brought some kind of order, and that the emperor’s forced entry into the church should now be expected. As soon as Ambrose saw Rufinus, although the latter was still far away, he loudly said to him: “Why did you come here? What are your intentions? After all, everyone knows that it was you who advised the emperor on a monstrous massacre; doesn’t the memory of this frighten you?” The embarrassed Rufinus could only say: “The emperor will come here soon, please don’t push him away.” “Let him go,” Ambrose objected, “but let him know that I will not allow him to enter even the vestibule, and if he dares to act like a tyrant, and not like a guardian of the law, then I am ready to undergo his blows.” Thinking only about how to avoid a meeting that did not promise anything good, Rufinus hurried back to the emperor. He met him halfway on the square and dissuaded him from going further. “No, I’ll go,” the emperor replied, “I’ll go and suffer the punishment I deserve.” Approaching the entrance to the basilica where Ambrose was waiting for him, he began to ask to lift the ban from him. But Ambrose still suspected that there was a demand hidden behind the request. “What are you going to do? Will the spirit of rebellion cause you to trample God’s law again?” “I did not come for violence,” the monarch humbly answered, “I came to ask you for forgiveness and to beg you in the name of the mercy of Christ not to close the doors open to all repentant sinners before me.” - “Where are the signs of your repentance? Are you ready to apply bandages to your wounds?” The emperor replied: “I agree to everything.” The expression of submission could not have been more complete, and Ambrose, who wanted it to be voluntary, could not demand anything more. He only wanted the emperor to issue a decree, by virtue of which any sentence entailing confiscation of property or death would be made public only thirty days after its pronouncement. After this period, the sentence must be submitted again for a second review in case it is changed or cancelled, if there are grounds for this. After such a decree was drawn up and signed, the doors of the church opened and Theodosius entered there. Falling prostrate to the ground, he repeated loudly the words of the psalm: “Lord, my soul is tied to the stones of Your house, restore to me the joy of my salvation.” Mass was celebrated as always, with the only difference that when the time for communion came, Ambrose sent to tell the emperor that he should receive communion with everyone, and not wait, as was usually done in Constantinople, for the Holy Spirit to be taught to him. Gifts in the royal place. Theodosius thanked for the warning and obeyed unquestioningly. Recalling later this significant day in his life, he himself said with surprise: “Only Ambrose enlightened me and made me understand what episcopal power is.” The surprise expressed by Theodosius corresponded to the general impression. And although Bishop Ambrose took every care that the condemnation to which Theodosius was subjected as a Christian did not diminish his power and dignity as a monarch, it was clear to everyone that in days of various kinds of disasters and horrors, only the Church and its ministers could give peace and consolation. And when after this other disasters came: the horrors of civil strife, the stormy invasion of barbarians, which demolished all the dams and swallowed up the authoritative authorities in its waves the day before, the people already knew what to do, where to look for protection and consolation. The impression made by the event on Theodosius was so deep that as soon as he returned to the East, where the continuously flaring unrest demanded his presence, he with great zeal began to fulfill the double task he had set for himself - the eradication of idolatry and the suppression of the Arian heresy. For this purpose, he issued decrees against pagans and Arians, which surpassed in their severity all previous legalizations of this kind. The instructions he gave to his young co-emperor, whom he left under the paternal care of Ambrose, were of the same nature. The tender-hearted Valentinian, moved by the majestic spectacle at which he had just been present, was now fully prepared to receive these instructions. Although he had already entered that age - he was twenty years old - when young people, and especially those invested with supreme power, strive for independence, however, he willingly followed all the advice of Ambrose, especially in matters of faith. Bringing all the ardor of youth into this, he not only carried out exactly the instructions of his spiritual leader, but also strived to surpass them. Prayers, fasting, frequent attendance at divine services, renunciation not only of sinful pleasures, but also of all kinds of pleasures - nothing seemed too difficult to him when it came to demonstrating the strength and fervor of his faith. Chaste, abstinent in food and drink, he lived in solitude with his sisters Justa and Grata, who were also under the spiritual guidance of Ambrose. The young king’s piety, however, did not have anything narrow in it and did not distract him from fulfilling the duties of government. He got involved in the minutiae of current affairs, attended meetings and listened to complaints. His Christian views were most manifested in mercy and philanthropy. In particular, he had an aversion to informers, who had great success in the imperial courts of that time, where no one trusted anyone, and where the emperor who ascended the throne was always forced to fear his associates and servants. Ambrose later said that Valentinian smiled when he was told about the conspiracy being prepared against him, while this could have embarrassed even the most courageous emperors. The demand from those around him for strict purity of morals, of which he himself served as an example, and the determination to be guided in all matters by justice and not personal preferences, aroused murmurs against Emperor Valentinian. One of the first to show displeasure with these new orders was the chief commander of the army, Arbogast. A Goth by birth, as his name shows, he managed to gain the confidence of Theodosius by the energetic support given to him in the fight against Maximus. As a reward for this, Theodosius made him the head of all military forces of the Western Empire and left him under Valentinian as a teacher of military art. It was foreseeable that sooner or later the influence of Ambrose and the influence of Arbogast would meet, and that this meeting would lead to an almost inevitable clash. And so it happened. The culprit in the clash was not Ambrose, but Arbogast, who hoped that thanks to his position, experience, and support from Theodosius, he would have unlimited influence over Valentinian. When it became clear that the young emperor had his own will and intended to act independently, he attributed this to the advice of Ambrose and began to fear for his personal position. From that moment on, Valentinian began to encounter constant opposition on his part to all measures, the initiative of which did not come from him. As soon as the sovereign expressed any desire, Arbogast refused to carry it out; often the latter even issued directly opposite orders. The military leaders who made up Valentinian's retinue were appointed by Arbogast, and therefore did not dare to take a single step without his consent. These were not servants of Valentinian, but rather scouts and spies. Naturally, such tracking should have caused Valentinian great concern. And this anxiety increased even more when, on the advice, or rather at the request, of Arbogast, he went to Gaul. Arbogast assured that his presence there was necessary, since since the uprising of Maximus in this country, imperial power had lost all meaning. Arbogast managed to arrange everything in advance so that the honors given to the unrecognized monarch were only feigned. In Vienna, where Valentinian was supposed to stay, he found himself almost alone in the palace and even the officials did not dare to visit him. He searched and could not find a single friendly or even sympathetic glance around him. Historians say that he wrote a secret letter to Theodosius, in which he complained about the difficulty of his situation; but Constantinople was too far away, Theodosius was extremely busy, letters arrived slowly and sloppily, and Valentinian’s complaint remained unanswered. Once, however, Valentinian showed his will and could think that he was still obeyed. Tireless pagan senators sent a deputation to him in order to ask him for some relief for the pagan cult, the abolition of which deeply saddened them. They wanted to take advantage of the fact that Ambrose was away from the emperor, but this attempt was no happier than the previous ones. Valentinian, who always remembered the touching scene he witnessed as a child, showed no hesitation when it came to matters of faith, and refused the senators. “And, however,” Ambrose later said, “I didn’t even have time to write to him.” Arbogast, who perhaps allowed the deputation only to embarrass the young emperor and offend Ambrose, knew too well the attitude of Theodosius on this issue to insist on such a delicate matter, and Valentinian could on that day feel like he was really an emperor. This apparent success, apparently, prompted Valentinian to take a decisive step, the consequences of which he did not sufficiently calculate. A few days later, when he was seated on the throne in the meeting of the Council, Arbogast, as usual, presented him with a prepared order for the army for signature. Valentinian took the paper handed to him, put it aside and ordered that another one, which he himself had prepared, be reported instead. Arbogast took it and, to his surprise, saw that it was an order to deprive him of command over the army. Without hesitation, he answered boldly: “I did not receive this position from you, and it is not you who will remove me!” Then he tore the paper and threw it on the floor. Valentinian looked around at those present, but everyone sat silently, and no one came to his defense. In despair, he rushed to the warrior standing at the foot of the throne in order to snatch the sword from him. “What are you going to do,” said Arbogast, grabbing his hands, “kill me?” “No,” the emperor answered, “I myself want to die, it’s better not to live than to reign without actually possessing any power.” The opponents, who attacked each other, were separated, and the meeting was closed. The situation was becoming impossible; both sides felt equally unsafe. Valentinian refused to sign orders for the army, since he always suspected that they concealed an insidious trap against him; Arbogast, for his part, was far from sure that Theodosius, who dearly loved his brother-in-law, would not take his side. A violent outcome was inevitable, and Valentinian did not want to meet it in Gaul, where the ground under his feet was not solid. And so he announced his intention to return to Italy, so that from there he would be able to repel the new attack of the barbarians that was preparing for the empire. Arbogast could not openly oppose such a valiant intention, but all military convoys were in his hands. With all sorts of difficulties and delays, he delayed the emperor’s departure, and the captive Valentinian well understood that his jailer did not want to let him escape. The young emperor was in the greatest anxiety; Most of all, he suffered because he did not have a friend near him whom he could confide in. From only one person could he expect both advice and consolation; this man was Bishop Ambrose. Several times he persistently asked him to come to Gaul. Ambrose sadly later justified his slowdown. First of all, he did not know the real state of affairs, since Valentinian, fearing that the letter would be intercepted, expressed himself very restrainedly. And on that day, when he was about to leave, a rumor spread throughout Milan that the emperor intended to return soon and was even on his way, and that preparations were already being made in the palace for his reception. This false rumor caused him to lose several more days. When Ambrose finally got ready to set off, it was already too late. Valentinian was waiting impatiently for him from hour to hour. He sent one messenger after another to meet him, asking him to hurry. He chose the last messenger from his own convoy, which was called the “company of silent men.” This title might have given him some confidence. However, he was afraid that this messenger would not be intercepted and forced to reveal the purpose of his trip, and, therefore, he considered it safer to write in his letter that he was waiting for Ambrose only so that he would reconcile him with Arbogast. In the evening, going to bed, in the morning, when waking up, there was one question on his lips: “Has the silent man returned?” But the “silent man” did not return. Arbogast took care of this, who was afraid to meet face to face with Bishop Ambrose, who twice forced Theodosius himself to retreat with his accusatory words. Moreover, Ambrose will not come alone, he will be surrounded by a crowd of disciples, and if, as there was no doubt about it, he will try to reconcile them, then how can Arbogast not obey? Therefore, it is better that Ambrose does not turn to him with any requests, then Arbogast will not have to refuse. And it was no surprise to anyone when Valentinian died before Ambrose could arrive. The official announcement of this was met with general distrust. It said that Valentinian committed suicide in a fit of madness, similar to the one that happened to him in front of everyone at the meeting of the Supreme Council, when he actually attempted to take his own life. The secret was so well kept that historians themselves differ on the details of this murder. According to some, he was strangled in his bed by the palace eunuchs; according to others, he was attacked while walking on the banks of the Rhone and first strangled and then hanged from a tree. And it was as if passers-by even heard him shout: “Poor, my poor sisters!” But no one dared to help him. Although these guesses were conveyed in a whisper, everyone felt sorry for the murdered man. Young, beautiful, distinguished by high morality - and such a terrible fate! One could read compassion and sadness in everyone's eyes. To put an end to these discreet, but still clear signs of public censure, Arbogast hastened to order that the mortal remains of Valentinian be transferred without delay with honors to Milan. Ambrose met this sad procession before he managed to reach the Alps. He left Milan, encouraged by the good wishes of the entire population, and the most influential citizens and even the magistrate himself instructed him to ask the emperor to return to them. Everyone hoped that if any obstacles were encountered before his return to their city, as they began to fear, Ambrose would be able to cope with them. Ambrose listened with horror to the terrible news of Valentinian's death, and his return to Milan with his dear remains was an indescribably sad sight... Crying and groans filled the air. “Everyone cried,” says Ambrose, “those who loved him cried, those who only feared him cried; even the barbarians and those who seemed to be his enemies wept.” The inconsolable population accused Ambrose and reproached him for being too slow. If he had been there, they said, nothing would have happened. “But what is my fault? Am I a prophet to foresee the future? And yet, he almost reproached himself for not hastening to Vienna at the first call. It was decided to wait for the funeral until an order was received from Theodosius. Ambrose himself, in a letter to Theodosius, asked him for instructions, and reminded him that he owed Valentinian’s filial affection only to him. “As a child, he looked at me as an enemy; Thanks to you, he later began to call me his father.” Before receiving an answer, the body of the monarch was placed in the royal sarcophagus, near which his sisters spent days and nights crying. The Milan bishop's appeal to Theodosius obviously had a purpose, not only the pretext he put forward - the need to determine the order of the funeral; he meant to remind Theodosius that now both halves of the Empire were again united in his hands, and that, in view of the terrible crisis beginning again, he had the responsibility to take care of the good of the state and the Church. It would seem that Arbogast should have written to Theodosius before anyone else: the latter handed over command of the army to him, and now he should have been the first to be notified of the seemingly random and natural event that put Arbogast at the head of all the Gallic legions. But Arbogast did not have the courage to pretend until the end. Not without reason, he believed that Theodosius would not believe his false report. He also did not dare to resort to the only means that would free him from all responsibility: to proclaim himself, like Maximus, emperor, although, without a doubt, he could have received the consent of the army. He understood that to take advantage of this turmoil right now would mean to clearly admit that he was a murderer; in addition, he was afraid of the impression that the inclusion of his foreign and clearly barbaric name in the lists of emperors after Trajan, Diocletian, Constantine and Theodosius would make on Rome, on the Senate and on all the large cities that value the memories of the past. He settled on the middle solution. It seemed to preserve for him all the benefits of the crime and at the same time did not clearly speak against him: it was necessary to find an emperor whom he would keep in complete dependence, and govern the Empire on his behalf. To be sure that this figurehead would not imagine himself to be an emperor, he decided to look for him not among the military, but among the class that had nothing to do with military affairs. His choice fell on the unremarkable rhetorician Eugene, who, thanks to his lively pen, occupied a prominent administrative post. Eugene was proclaimed emperor with all those formalities that usually ensured the obedience of the troops; and the people, long accustomed to bowing to an accomplished fact, submitted in this case as well. A deputation was sent to Theodosius to inform him of this event and to incline towards his new comrade at least the same tolerance with which he had treated Maximus for some time. Arbogast knew that the brave emperor, although in his prime, still felt the need for rest, and therefore hoped that Theodosius would not easily decide on a campaign that presented great dangers to the distant part of the Western Empire. While this strange deputation, consisting of a pagan rhetorician, a friend of Eugene, and Gallic bishops who had joined the new government, was on the way to Constantinople, Theodosius received an answer in Milan, ordering not to postpone the funeral. This had long been awaited with impatience, as they were sure that Ambrose would deliver a funeral speech befitting the occasion. Everyone was interested in what he would say? How will he be able to express not only general sadness, but also general indignation - two feelings that he himself probably experienced more than others? - And at the same time, since Theodosius’s attitude to these events was still unknown, everyone wanted to know how the bishop would express his opinion about the coup, which the culprit tried to give the appearance of a very ordinary accident. How could he mourn the unfortunate victim of the crime without too clearly blaming the hand that committed it in the dark of night? Never has the art of oratory been given a more difficult test, and never has it come out of it more successfully. For a whole hour, when all of Milan, with bated breath, listened to his every word, Ambrose managed to be touching and fascinating, moderate and courageous; at some moments he was wisely prudent. There was not a single word that was not in agreement with the terrible thought that was in everyone’s soul; but also not a single word that revealed the bishop as a criminal accuser. Suspicion was felt in all the words, and it was left to the listeners themselves to complete it. For example, there is so much art in this attack: “Valentinian arrived to us, but not in the way we expected to see him. And yet he still fulfilled his duty. When a rumor spread that the Alps, which serve as the defense of Italy, were threatened by barbarians, he, without fear for his life, decided to leave Gaul in order to share our fate with us. He wanted to save the Roman Empire - they looked at it as a crime!” But who dared accuse him of such a magnanimous intention? Ambrose does not give an answer to this, because the answer was on everyone’s lips. Further, in his funeral oration, Bishop Ambrose says: “Thus, the death of the emperor met the first steps of his independent life; I’m talking about the suddenness, and not about the manner of his death, for I mourn, and do not blame.” At another point in his speech, Ambrose states that if he had arrived in Gaul on time, he would have used all his strength to restore peace and harmony there, recalling that he had already been to Gaul several times as an ambassador even when power there was in the hands of Maximus. “Oh, it is better for a bishop to be persecuted by emperors,” he exclaims, “than to be loved by them. I was happier then when I risked my life for you than now when I mourn your death.” The name of Maximus, as well as the name of Gratian, was repeatedly repeated by the church speaker, and not without intention: he wanted to evoke the memory of a similar crime, which could be spoken about completely freely, since it had already been discovered and avenged. And, indeed, this wonderful speech was dedicated not only to the memory of Valentinian; it was dedicated to both brothers, dearly loved by Ambrose, emperors who walked under his leadership along the path on which he so desired to see the empire. The images of both brothers were depicted by him with amazing skill. The features of Gratian, who lived long enough to prove himself as a ruler, were sketched more sharply by him, but Valentinian was his dearly beloved child. And Ambrose even describes his appearance: “Oh, Valentinian, my beautiful young man! Your face, tender and with an innocent blush, reflected the image of Christ Himself.” It is difficult to find a more touching picture than the one where Ambrose depicts the meeting of two brothers in the abode of eternal bliss. To depict this scene, the saint borrows prophetic power and expressiveness of speech from the books of Holy Scripture. “Now I see his soul ascending to heaven, and Gratian accepts it, saying: “Come, my brother, let us enter eternal life, let us live in the villages of the righteous. In the vineyard of Christ, labor does not remain fruitless. There we will reap what we have sown on earth, and live in our beloved city, protected from the attacks of the wild beasts of the earth!.. Go to the bosom of Jacob, rest like poor Lazarus in the bosom of Abraham!” Then he seems to lift him up to heaven, and the angels and saints, seeing him, ask: “Whose soul is this that rises to us, leaning on his brother?” - “Oh, dear brothers, if only my prayers are heard, you will find bliss. I will not let a single day pass without pronouncing your name before the throne of God, I will not let a single night pass without offering my prayers for you. I will think of you at every service. Oh, Gratian and Valentinian, equally beautiful and equally dear to the heart! How quickly your days have passed—more like the fleeting waves of the Rhone!.. Inseparable here, you will be just as inseparable beyond the grave. I pray to You, Lord, to join me after death to those who were so dear to me during life. If I was not given the opportunity to enjoy communication with them here on earth, let me live with them in eternity! Despite the restraint that permeated all the expressions of this speech, not even the appearance of good relations was established between Ambrose and the new government. Arbogast, who knew too well how popular the great bishop was, made it clear to his figurehead emperor that it was necessary to treat him with respect. Eugene wrote a letter to Ambrose, announcing his accession to the throne. He hoped to flatter the bishop with this. “I didn’t answer,” says Ambrose, “because I knew what would follow.” And, indeed, no special insight was needed to understand that the accidental power of Arbogast and the former rhetorician, now proclaimed emperor Eugene, would not be durable, and that the Church of Christ, whose cause the Bishop of Milan served, would not receive anything good from this power. This fair consideration was confirmed, however, only a little later. Eugene's delegation, arriving in Constantinople, found the imperial court in great sorrow. The unexpected news conveyed to Empress Halle shocked her so much that she, being in the last months of pregnancy, died, and Theodosius was thus deprived of family joys for the second time. Eugene's envoys did not receive a solemn audience, but at the same time, Theodosius did not dare to show obvious hostility, which would immediately have been followed by a declaration of war. Therefore, Theodosius received the deputies, but privately, listened to their false message, did not make a single comment and released them without any answer. In this way he gained time. Arbogast, not wanting to hasten the rupture that then became almost inevitable, took all measures to meet it prepared. Wanting to raise respect for the power he had newly created, he undertook a campaign against the barbarian tribes living along the Rhine. The campaign ended successfully, and Eugene, who accompanied the army, signed a peace treaty with the vanquished in the camp. But the name of Ambrose, even in these distant countries, still haunted the murderer of Valentinian. The biographer reports that after the conclusion of the peace treaty, he invited several local dignitaries to dinner, and one of them suddenly asked him: “Do you know a man named Ambrose?” Surprised by this question, Arbogast, however, did not give himself away. “Yes,” he answered, “Amvrosy is my friend, and I often dine with him.” - “This is what contributed to your victory! You are the friend of a man who can say to the sun: stop, and it will stop.” But, finally, Arbogast had to meet face to face with a man whose fame spread far beyond the borders of the Roman Empire, for one who did not own Milan, that main city of the Italian Peninsula and the only route to Rome, could not consider himself a real emperor, and there a meeting with Ambrose was inevitable. If it was impossible to hope to win him over to his side, then he had to look for another force, relying on which it would be possible to fight the influence of the bishop on the minds of Christians. There was a need to get closer to the natural enemies of the latter, with adherents of paganism, of whom there were still many among the superstitious masses of the rural population and among the highest officials, who only reluctantly came to terms with the religious revolution, and, finally, among those writers who, like Eugene, were Christians only in name, but in reality served Apollo and the Muses. The reconciliation of the new emperor with the remnants of the pagan party was inevitable. The first opportunity for this presented itself as soon as the chief of the imperial guard, Flavian, himself a pagan, brought congratulations from the eternal city to Gaul. The conditions of this alliance were self-evident, and there was no need to even mention them. The Temple of Victory was not officially restored, but Flavian and the other deputies, also pagans, were promised that they would be returned the income taken from this pagan altar by the last edict, and would be allowed to use the money as they wished. There was no doubt about the destination that these sums would receive, and Ambrose clearly foresaw this. This turn of events, however, did not surprise him; he only regretted that the struggle was beginning again, which was to test the faith of many Christians. And although he was disgusted by the hand extended to him, stained with Valentinian’s blood, he did not consider himself right to reject it on the basis of suspicions alone, although very well founded, but still not indisputable. He could not refuse relations with representatives of the authorities recognized by all. It was not his place to dispute the correctness of Eugene’s election; however, there was nothing wrong with this election, since the method of inheriting imperial power was not strictly determined by either the principle of heredity or the principle of popular election. But when the new emperor became an obvious patron of paganism, which he had so often advocated against as a matter that was detrimental to the dignity of the Church, when it became known that Eugene was going, Ambrose decided to leave the city, leaving a letter for the new emperor in which he explained his departure solely as a duty to preserve the dignity of the Church and to fulfill God’s commandments. “Do not look for other reasons for my departure than the fear of God, which guides all my actions and forces me to seek the mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ more than the favor of people.” – the Bishop of Milan wrote to the new Emperor Eugene. “I will speak to you in the same language as I spoke to other emperors who reigned before you... Remember, sir, that God sees everything that happens in the depths of our souls and penetrates into all our secrets. Things that have not yet been done, but are being planned, and all the desires of the heart are revealed to him. You probably don't want to be deceived. But did you really hope to hide something from God? We have nothing against the fact that you are distributing the income taken from the pagan temple. We didn’t even think about using them for ourselves; but it will be clear to everyone that it was you who allowed this property to be used for the purposes for which those to whom you gave it will spend it: their orders will be your orders. I was silent for a long time, banning my sadness, and did not share it with anyone, but I have no right to restrain myself any longer.” Having voluntarily condemned himself to exile, Ambrose did so that wherever he passed, he was greeted with warm greetings. In Bologna, in Florence, in all major cities, he was given enthusiastic meetings. People were waiting for him everywhere, he was invited from everywhere: here it was necessary to consecrate a church or ordain priests, there to pray for the sick or alleviate their suffering. Everywhere he preached sermons, and a strong, animated word prepared hearts for a united effort to bring the final victory to the true faith. At the same time, the usurper, as Eugenius was usually called, entered Milan in the midst of cold silence and walked through empty streets, for everyone he met along the way hastened to hide in the houses. At moments this general indifference was further emphasized by the pitiful greetings of small groups of pagans. Brought by the chief of the imperial guard, Flavian, these pagans seemed to welcome not so much the arrival of a new sovereign as the return of the old gods. However weak and timid these revived hopes of polytheism were, the impression they made was sufficient to put an end to Theodosius's hesitation. Everyone was surprised that this time Theodosius did not show that determination and speed, which until now in similar cases only served to increase his fame and ensure his success. Gloomy forebodings made some fear that fate had begun to change Theodosius, but in reality it was different. Theodosius's position was such that even a new victory could only give him one worry. He would then find himself at the head of the second half of the empire, which he was not able to control personally. On whose shoulders could he place this heavy burden? The two sons he dearly loved were too young to undertake this task, and its danger was only too clearly shown by the fate of Gratian and Valentinian. If he had cared only about his glory and his peace, this hesitation, all the more conspicuous because it was contrary to his temperament, would probably have continued even longer. But from the moment he learned that a revival was being plotted under a somewhat hidden form of the old paganism, and that the whole cause of Christianity, to which he had devoted his life, was in danger, he made his final decision. He spent entire nights without sleep, thinking about the outcome of the upcoming struggle; an inner voice told him that Saint Ambrose was calling him to defend the cause of God. It was not difficult to foresee the nature of the future war: on both sides it was supposed to be a religious war. Theodosius prepared for it with solemn prayers and deeds, which could testify to his devotion to faith and true piety. A modern historian says that he prepared for battle, relying not so much on the power of arms as on the power of prayer and fasting. In another camp it was different: Arbogast openly extended his hand to Flavian, forcing the timid Eugene to do the same. The mask was dropped. At the head of each legion pagan banners were hoisted; on top of the fortification that protected the main entrance to Italy; a statue of Hercules was erected; Even fortune telling by the entrails of sacrificial animals was not missed, and Flavian, who considered himself knowledgeable in such fortune telling, gave the most favorable predictions. “We will return as winners,” said Arbogast, “and we will turn their churches into stables, and we will teach the priests to wield weapons.” Arbogast was a better general than Maximus. He himself became the head of the troops, reinforced by auxiliary detachments recruited from the Germanic tribes he had conquered. He skillfully pulled his army to the Aquileia fortification and confidently awaited the offensive. The first day of the battle ended indecisively, and this unexpected resistance caused Theodosius' supporters to waver. Many of them began to say that they needed to retreat and wait for reinforcements, but Theodosius, to whom all his usual determination had returned, understood that with such an unstable state of mind, everything would perish if he even for a moment showed doubt in God’s mercy to him. “The cross must not retreat,” he said, “even for one day before idols. Tomorrow you will see what the true God will do!” And, indeed, the battle, which resumed with fervor the next day, was decided by an unexpected accident: one of the barbarian cohorts recruited by Arbogast retreated from its position to another, leaving the passage entrusted to it unprotected. Happiness turned to Theodosius’s side so quickly that when news of this came to Eugene, who was waiting in his tent for the outcome of the battle, he thought that the captive Theodosius had been brought to him. And before he had time to recover from surprise, he was captured and led to the winner. The moment he knelt down to beg for mercy, a soldier cut off his head with a blow of his sword. Even from the battlefield, Theodosius wanted to notify the Bishop of Milan about their common victory and ask him to perform a prayer of thanksgiving with him, but he did not know where to send the ambassador, since Ambrose did not stop anywhere for a long time, but continued his trip through upper Italy in order to encourage the people to fight for the faith. However, the messenger found him in Milan. He returned there before he learned about the outcome of the battle, wanting to be prepared for any eventuality. Ambrose's answer breathes with Christian and patriotic joy. Both Rome and the Church equally freed themselves from the yoke of the pagan, who relied on the barbarians. “Believe me,” he wrote, “I hoped for your courage and your art, and had no doubt that God’s help would be the reward for your piety and that you would be able to save the empire from the barbarian robber... You ask me to thank God for the victory; I will do this with great joy. Another emperor would have sought a triumphal arch, but you are asking a servant of God to offer prayers to God. I'll tell you what I did. I took your letter to the basilica and placed it there on the throne, so that your faith could speak to God through your own lips. Yes, truly God looks with favor on the Roman Empire if He gave it such a monarch, such a father, whose virtues surpass in their greatness the good deeds of all emperors, and the true humility of the virtues of all the servants of God. What are you missing? Everything is united in you! In you is the complete fulfillment of all my wishes.” Ambrose himself went to Aquileia, hastening to press to his heart the hero who, as it seemed to him, had been sent by Providence in order to create a truly Christian empire on earth, which was the dream of his youth and the subject of his constant prayers. But all human hopes and aspirations are in vain, even the most noble and seemingly holy ones, for God directs human paths. After a touching meeting with Saint Ambrose, Theodosius headed to Milan. He sent his secretary ahead of him with an edict of pardon. On the advice of Ambrose, he made it as wide and full as possible. It was read in the great Basilica, where everyone who, without taking direct part in the uprising, could fear severe punishment and, among other things, the families of Flavian and Arbogast, took refuge. There was delight in the city. But one could easily notice that the emperor did not completely join in this general rejoicing. Sad shadows lay on his noble face. It seemed to him that the victory had been bought at too high a price, and the smell of blood this time, although justly shed, evoked painful memories in his memory - he even doubted whether he had the right to receive communion. After some time it became known that he was sick with dropsy. He had been suffering from this illness for a long time, but due to the hardships suffered during his last campaign, it intensified to the point that he could no longer hide it. His situation quickly deteriorated and there was no hope for recovery. Expecting death with Christian firmness, he stopped caring about all worldly affairs, turning his thoughts to only one thing - the fate of the Christian empire after his death. He summoned his two sons, Arcadius and Honorius. The first had already been granted the title of Augustus, while the second was barely out of childhood. He divided the empire between them: the East went to Arcadius, and the West to Honorius. Previously, supreme power was considered indivisible even when it was held by several persons. Now, according to Theodosius’s will, each of the two new emperors had to rule his half completely independently. Wanting to fulfill his duty to the end, he accepted the Deputations, which brought him congratulations on his victory. Among them there was also a delegation from the Roman Senate. This time the delegation was led by Christians, but some pagan senators also wanted to join it. Theodosius addressed the latter with a speech in which he urged them to accept faith, which alone could save the state and save people from sin. Then, noticing that his preaching left them cold, he dryly warned that from now on they could not count on government assistance for any of their sanctuaries. This statement greatly upset them, and they did not hide it. This was the last state affair of Theodosius. On January 10, 395, he still wished to attend the festival organized in his honor, but a fit of suffocation forced him to go home, and at night, less than four months after the victory, he was gone. Greatly depressed by the death of Emperor Theodosius, who had spent his entire life caring about restoring peace in his empire and establishing the true Christian faith in it, Ambrose thought only about not spreading around himself the despondency that he had managed to suppress within himself with such difficulty. This is what he set as the main goal of his sermon when the mortal remains of the great emperor were brought to the great Basilica. Honorius had to accompany the sad procession to the borders of his empire. There he was supposed to hand over his father's body to Arkady, who had already left for Constantinople. The presence of the young emperor, on whom all eyes were directed, gave special significance to Ambrose's first speech. Obviously, he intended to say that, although Theodosius died, he still lives in his descendants by blood, who will also imitate him in piety, virtues, heroic deeds and will be just as faithful. And he tried to instill in everyone this belief in the happy future of the royal young brothers. “The great emperor left us, but not all of him died: he left us heirs, in whom we must recognize him; we seem to see him, he is still among us. Don't let their young age bother you! Theodosius's faith brought us victories; Let our faith give them courage. Faith can make up for the deficiency of age. What is faith? This, as Scripture teaches, is “the revelation of things hoped for, the revelation of things unseen.” Moreover, it should illuminate the meaning and meaning of what is before our eyes. Faith is the legacy that Abraham, Isaac and Jacob left us. It was by faith and not by works that Abraham was justified; faith allowed Isaac to look fearlessly when his father raised a knife over him; as a reward for his firmness in faith, Jacob was rewarded with encouragement along the way by a host of angels.” “How can you doubt that God will help the sons of such a father? Arkady is in the flower of youth and strength, Honorius is on the threshold of youth. Joseph, when he was kidnapped from his father, was younger than him.” Turning then to the usual depiction of the virtues of the deceased in such cases, he most of all praises not his brilliant human traits, but what made him pleasing to God: he praises his mercy, his love for mankind, and especially his humility, evidenced by the famous repentance, which was still fresh in the memory of everyone. “I loved this man,” he says further, as if feeling what significance this public testimony of his respect for the deceased would have for the entire Christian world, “I respected him because he preferred reproof to flattery; I honored him because, having taken off the royal crown, he mourned his sin before the Church, asking for forgiveness. I rated him highly because, as an emperor, he was not ashamed of open repentance, which even mere mortals are ashamed of. I love him because after that there was not a single day when he did not grieve for what he had done. I loved this man because he called a servant of God to himself before his last breath, and at that hour he was more concerned about the fate of the Church than the death that threatened him from minute to minute. I mourn his death with all my heart and hope that the all-good Lord will heed the prayers with which I admonished the pious soul departing to Him!” The young son of Theodosius should have noticed how unlike this cry of sadness that burst from the soul, this praise, in no way weakened by the severity of moral assessment, was like those pompous praises that, wanting to gain the favor of the young emperor, pagan rhetoricians and poets poured out before him. But caring not about pleasing the powerful of the world, but exclusively about teaching, Ambrose in the last words of his speech exhorts Honorius to remain faithful to the Christian policy of his father and does this very skillfully. These words are somewhat strange at first glance and require explanation. It depicts Theodosius taking his place in heaven next to the great Constantine. One might ask why precisely with Constantine, whose glory was overshadowed by some sad memories. And because Constantine was the first to make the great Christian truth the support of the state, and Theodosius completed this work - this is the position that Ambrose wanted to extract from this comparison, and a bold comparison allows him to develop his thought further and further. With details that may seem excessive to us, but which may have been useful to his listeners, he recalls that when Helen, the mother of Constantine, had the good fortune to open the honorable Cross that the Savior once carried, she took out from it one of the nails that nailed His Body, and embedded it in the imperial crown. “Oh, wise Helen, who laid the cross on the heads of the rulers, so that the worship of their greatness would be the worship of the Cross. This same Sacred Nail truly became a nail - once again cementing the world-powerful Roman Empire. This is a worthy adornment to the foreheads of monarchs, turning them from persecutors of faith into heralds. Let them keep this gift of the Savior, so that it can be said about the Roman emperors what was said about the Savior: You placed a crown of precious stones on their head.” A contemporary historian, trying to convey this speech in expressions that were similar in strength and brilliance to the original, could not resist adding the following remark to it: “If Ambrose had looked around at those present at that moment, he could have noticed in the crowd surrounding him a young Goth who had participated in the victory of Theodosius and was now returning to Germany with his small cavalry detachment. This was the one whom his compatriots called Alaric Balta (i.e., the Brave). The future destroyer of Rome stood here, unknown to anyone, immersed in his thoughts, at the moment when the empire was burying its last hero, and the voice of a servant of the Church, but at the same time a subject of Rome, tried at the tomb of this hero to ease the upcoming difficult feat of his crowned successors.” Ambrose outlived the great emperor by only two years (he died in 397), but this short time was enough to notice how quickly the disintegration of the state proceeded, briefly stopped by the vigilant firmness of Theodosius and the honest efforts of Valentinian. Although royal power over the Western Empire was transferred to a child who was barely 11 years old, in reality it was in the hands of a person whom Theodosius believed in his upbringing. This was Stilicho, a proven commander who managed to instill such respect in Theodosius that he even became related to him. Stilicho left an honorable memory in history, and it, apparently, was not undeserved, especially if we take into account his military talent. But besides that, Theodosius would never have entrusted him with raising his son if he had not been sure that Stilicho was unshakably devoted to Christianity and would treat Ambrose with respect. However, it was impossible to treat the Bishop of Milan differently, given his undoubted influence on the people. But Stilicho was a rude man by nature, had a cruel character, which betrayed his barbarian origin. The pagan historian Zosima, who was close to him, confesses that, although Stilicho showed himself to be impeccably honest in the military positions he occupied, unlimited power eventually spoiled him, and he sometimes began to use it to enrich himself. His example quickly found imitators: the administration and the court from top to bottom became corrupt; everyone cared only about their own personal benefits. The suffering and misfortune of ordinary citizens, left defenseless, already exhausted by the heavy state burden, thanks to the coups and uprisings that continuously followed each other, increased even more. Such a sight filled Ambrose’s heart with all the greater sadness because he was forced to look at it closely, since he had to maintain constant business relations with this ruling circle. He never suffered so much, says one of his biographers, as precisely at the time when he had to petition the powers that be for something, because he knew that they had a certain rate for everything. This feeling is evident in his writings of recent years. The picture of the general depravity, selfishness and greed of the rich, their insensitivity to the suffering of the poor is depicted in dark colors and in some places even the voice of despair is heard. The ever-increasing obstacles to the planting and strengthening of virtue and to the eradication of evil caused deep sorrow to Saint Ambrose and had a detrimental effect on his health, and people close to him often heard him express a desire to quickly get rid of the sorrows of this world. True, he always carried this desire within himself, but he had never experienced it so acutely and deeply. “Others,” he said, “may need to stay here on earth for the good of their brothers, but I can no longer benefit anyone, and there in heaven I will no longer sin.” One of the works of his last days is exclusively devoted to praising the benefits of death. He apparently felt that God would soon call him to Himself and that his powers had no use on earth. “Father,” he exclaims, “open the gates of eternity to receive Your weak servant crying to You. Call me into Your bosom, but expand it, so that there may be a place there for all who believe in the Savior according to my word. There are many of them! True faith has spread on earth, but the iniquities committed on it are still so numerous that my strength is exhausted. We go to those who recline in Your bosom with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and with all who, being called to the wedding feast, did not refuse to go... Receive us into that abode of the Kingdom of Heaven, where the thief was received, where there are no clouds covering the sky, no dust, no storms, no darkness, no day, no night, no changes of seasons, where neither the moon nor the sun shines, a Christ Himself, Who is the Light that illuminates everyone who comes into the world. O Divine Savior, we strive for You, take us!” We find almost the same expressions in his interpretation of the 43rd Psalm of David. The holy bishop already felt so weak that he could not write himself and dictated to his young scribe, the same one who later compiled his biography. Having reached the following words: “It is hard to wait so long for the hour when life comes into contact with death! How difficult it is to drag a body already shrouded in the shadow of death. Arise, Lord! Will You always push me away? “At this time,” says the person writing under his dictation, “I saw, as it were, a radiant crown that first illuminated his brow and then passed to his lips, and finally his whole face was transformed and became white as snow... I was so amazed that my fingers became numb and I could not write. After that he said nothing more. This unfinished work has still been preserved to us, in which there is not enough explanation of the last verses.” A few days later, Ambrose went to bed and never got up again. As soon as it became known that his situation was hopeless, everyone became agitated. Everyone felt that the death of this great saint would be a great loss for everyone. If this great man dies, said Stilicho, then Italy will perish! He gathered the best people of the city, especially those for whom Ambrose showed special affection, and begged them to go to the sick man and ask him to pray to God to prolong his life. The saint refused. “My life,” he answered firmly, “was not such that I was ashamed to remain among you any longer; but I would like to die and hope for the mercy of the Lord.” On Great Friday, in the morning, he crossed his arms crosswise and remained in this position for many hours, changing it only to take communion. On the evening of Holy Saturday, shortly before the onset of Holy Easter, he breathed his last. What did Saint Ambrose, this great lamp of the Church of Christ, feel at the moment of parting with life? Was there in his soul, along with the expectation of heavenly joys, sorrow about the dangers that threatened the Roman Empire, the subject of his constant concerns and fervent prayers - that empire, the greatness of which he wanted to revive, planted and strengthened Christianity in it? No one can say this, for Providence keeps its intentions secret. Some historians date Ambrose's birth to 333, others to 340. It should be noted that Ambrose still achieved nothing with his letter to Theodosius: on the contrary, he admits that he could not induce Theodosius to cancel the decision he had made, although he asked him about it several times.