The Treatises of Cyprian — Historical footnotes

The epistles have already been elucidated as the best exposition of this treatise. Little need be added. But, to illustrate the bearings of this treatise upon the history of Christian unity, we need only refer to the manner in which the subject was treated as soon as the papacy was created by Nicholas I. Thus, he astounded the Greeks by his consummate audacity (a.d. 860) in the matter of the disputed succession in Constantinople. “It is our will,” he says, “that Ignatius should appear before our envoys,” etc. He declares it the rule of the Fathers, that, “without the consent of the Roman See and the Roman pontiff, nothing should be decided.” Also, he affirms, “The Creator of all things has established the Princedom of the Divine Power, which He granted to His chosen apostles. He has firmly established it on the firm faith of the Prince of the Apostles,—that is to say, Peter,—to whom he pre-eminently granted the first See,” etc. He was now speaking on the strength of the forged Decretals, to which he appeals, and which he succeeded in making law for the West. He thus created the lasting schism with the Easterns, who had never heard the like before his time.

Obviously, therefore, had Cyprian entertained such ideas, his treatise could never have been written; for it is a masterly exposition of a curious point, viz., the fact that (1) the Apostle Peter received the first grant alone, and yet (2) all the apostles received precisely the same; while (1) Peter had thus a primacy of honour, but (2) in no respect any power or authority over his brethren. On these admitted facts he constructs his theory of unity, expounding by it the actual state of the Church’s constitution. Peter’s memory he honours, but without any less reverence for all the apostolic Sees, which over and over again he maintains to be of equal authority and sanctity. That the Church was founded on Stephen any more than on the Bishop of Carthage, he never imagines; for it is one thing to allow that a bishop has succeeded an apostle at the place of his last labours, and quite another to assume that therefore such a bishop is virtually the apostle himself. Yet this assumption is the ground of all Roman doctrine on this point.

An edition of this treatise, with valuable annotations, appeared (a.d. 1852) from the press of Burlington, N.J., under the very creditable editorship of Professor Hyde, who was soon after called to depart this life. It exhibits the interpolations, and gives a useful catalogue of codices and of editions. Though its typographical execution is imperfect, I know not where so much condensed information on the subject is to be had at so little cost. I am grateful for the real advantage I derived from it on its first appearance.

Here comes into view that reference of the apostle to the usages of the primitive assemblies: “How shall he that occupieth the room of the unlearned say Amen at thy giving of thanks.” Though Cyprian omits the final Amen from his express commentary, it is to be noted that our Lord makes it virtually part of this prayer, by His precept (John xvi. 23, 24), to ask in His name. Now, He makes this word Amen one of His own names in the Apocalypse; throwing back a new character upon His frequent use of it, especially in St. John’s Gospel, and giving it as a sort of appropriation of 2 Cor. i. 20, when He calls Himself “The Amen, the faithful and true Witness.” He thus makes it infinitely dear to Christians. As in the Jewish usages, with which the disciples were familiar, it was a matter of course, we may suppose they added Amen in reciting this prayer, but not with their subsequent knowledge that it implies the merits, and claims the mediation, of the Great Intercessor. Rev. v. 8; viii. 3, 4; St. John xvii. 8.

Here comes into view that reference of the apostle to the usages of the primitive assemblies: “How shall he that occupieth the room of the unlearned say Amen at thy giving of thanks.” Though Cyprian omits the final Amen from his express commentary, it is to be noted that our Lord makes it virtually part of this prayer, by His precept (John xvi. 23, 24), to ask in His name. Now, He makes this word Amen one of His own names in the Apocalypse; throwing back a new character upon His frequent use of it, especially in St. John’s Gospel, and giving it as a sort of appropriation of 2 Cor. i. 20, when He calls Himself “The Amen, the faithful and true Witness.” He thus makes it infinitely dear to Christians. As in the Jewish usages, with which the disciples were familiar, it was a matter of course, we may suppose they added Amen in reciting this prayer, but not with their subsequent knowledge that it implies the merits, and claims the mediation, of the Great Intercessor. Rev. v. 8; viii. 3, 4; St. John xvii. 8.

Launoi, the eminent Gallican, found but seventeen of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church (among whom he reckons “Fathers” down to the twelfth century) who understand St. Peter to be “the rock,” and he cites forty of the contrary opinion. Yet of the “seventeen,” most of them speak only rhetorically, and with justifiable freedom. I have often done the same myself, on the principle which the same apostle applies to all Christians: “Ye also as lively stones,” etc. But it is quite noteworthy that the Council of Trent itself momentarily adopts the prevailing patristic and therefore the Catholic interpretation, speaking of the Nicene Creed: “In quo omnes qui fidem Christi profitentur necessario conveniunt, ac fundamentum firmum et unicum, contra quod portæ inferi nunquam prævalebunt (Matt. xvi. 18).” Thus, the faith of Peter is confessed the only foundation, in a direct exposition of the text so often quoted with another intent. In spite of all this, the Creed of Pius IV. was enjoined as soon as that council closed; and every member of the late Vatican Council was made to profess the same verbally before any other business was undertaken. Now, even this spurious creed forced them to swear concerning the Holy Scriptures, “I will never take and interpret them otherwise than according to the unanimous consent of the Fathers.” Obviously, according to this rule, there is no Catholic doctrine on the subject; much less any Catholic teaching to the effect that the modern bishops of Rome are “the rock,” as really as St. Peter himself.

If I have forborne in these notes to refer frequently to the Treatise of Bishop Sage, who often elucidates our author in a very learned manner, it is because he is almost wholly a controvertist, and therefore not to my purpose in this work. For his Cyprian, however, I entertain a sincere respect; and, as it might seem otherwise should I omit all reference to that work, I place its title in the footnote. Profoundly do I feel what another Scottish Doctor has beautifully said, “It is a loss, even to those that oppose errors and divisions, that they are forced to be busied that way.”

Here, then, we have the idea precisely equivalent to Jer. xlix. 19: “Ecce quasi leo ascendet de superbia Jordanis.” The lion is recumbent among the sprouting twigs (frutice, or foliage) of the Jordan’s banks in the springtime. The swelling of the river, which the melting of snows from Lebanon causes to overflow, rouses the reposing creature; and he goes up into the mountains. But Cyprian had in hand the old African, which seems to follow the LXX., and St. Jerome’s vulgate did not; and this word frutice animates Cyprian’s poetic genius. Its springtide imagery corresponding with Easter, he reads into it all the New Testament fulfilment: “Thou layedst down and sleepedst as a lion, and as a lion’s whelp—but, from the shooting of the first verdure in spring, thou hast gone up on high—thou hast ascended.” “Quis excitabit illum” is separated from this in the Paris text, and in the Septuagint, which the Old Latin followed, and so I have pointed it, though the Edinburgh reads: “and as a lion’s whelp; who shall stir him up?”

Origen’s treatise Against Celsus shows how cunningly the adversaries of the Gospel could assume a Jewish position against it; and the first two books of that work are designed to establish a perfect harmony between the Old Testament and the New, proving Christ to be the substance and sum of both. Cyprian may have foreseen the perils menacing the Church from the school of Plotinus, already rising, and which soon sent forth the venomous Porphyry. He was but a presbyter when he wrote this excellent defence of the faith; and his earnest pastoral care for his pupil is shown by his addition of a third book, entirely practical. The catechetical system of St. Luke’s day had become a developed feature of the Church (St. Cyril’s lectures in the succeeding century show how it was further expanded), and it also illustrates the purity of her moral teaching. Our author harmonizes faith and works, and presents her simple scriptural precepts in marked contrast with the putrid casuistry which Pascal exposes, and which grew up in the West with the enforcement of auricular confession by Innocent III., a.d. 1215. The theory of transubstantiation was also made a dogma at the same time, and operated, with the other, to the total extinguishment of the primitive discipline and worship. The withholding of the chalice in the Holy Communion followed, a.d. 1415.

Clement was able to remind the heathen, half a century before, that Christ had “already made the universe an ocean of blessings.” Here we have the moral canons of Christianity reflecting the Light of the World, and they show us how practically it operated. As I have noted, the first Christian hospital was founded (a.d. 350) by Ephraem Syrus. His example was followed by St. Basil, who also founded another for lepers. The founding of hostels as refuges for travellers was an institution of the Nicene period. “In the time of Chrysostom,” says one not too well disposed towards the Gospel, “the church of Antioch supported three thousand widows and virgins, besides strangers and sick. Legacies for the poor became common; and it was not infrequent for men and women who desired to live a life of especial sanctity, and especially for priests who attained the episcopacy, as a first act, to bestow their properties in charity. A Christian, it was maintained, should devote at least one-tenth of his profits to the poor. A priest named Thalasius collected blind beggars in an asylum on the banks of the Euphrates. A merchant named Apollinus founded on Mount Nitria a gratuitous dispensary.”

Compare this treatise of Cyprian, then, with any authorized treatise on the subject proceeding from modern Rome, and it will be seen that the two systems are irreconcilable. Thus, in few words, says the Confession of Pius IV.: “I acknowledge the Holy Catholic Apostolic Roman Church for the mother and mistress of all churches; and I promise true obedience to the Bishop of Rome, successor to St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, and Vicar of Jesus Christ.” This is the voice of Italy in the ninth century; but Cyprian speaks for Œcumenical Christendom in the third, and the two systems are as contrary as darkness and light.

Tertullian refers to the responsive “Hallelujah” as “enriched prayer,” and the Amen usually accompanied this ejaculation.

Hippolytus foresaw the democratic age into which the feudal era of iron should pass, corroding in the toes by contact with the miry clay of the despised plebs, “the seed of men.” No lasting strength was to be imparted to imperialism by the plébiscite (Dan. ii. 43); and the prophet might almost be supposed to have the epoch of dynamite in his sight, as he speaks of the unwillingness of the people to cleave to the effete system of empire. Now, then, if “the failing estate” of the world was apparent in the days of Philip and Decius, how much more in our own! Sixteen human lives span the gulf of time between us and them, for we have many centenarians among us; and with the Lord “a thousand years are as one day.” Compare 2 Pet. iii. 9. And, putting such Scriptures together, is it not clear that “the last time” (i.e., the last of the seven times of the Gentiles) is drawing to its close? The three and a half times of Daniel extend to the convulsive epoch of Mohammed; the second moiety (of the seven) to our own age. See Faber, Sacred Calendar, vol. i. cap. iii. pp. 308, 309, etc.

Launoi, the eminent Gallican, found but seventeen of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church (among whom he reckons “Fathers” down to the twelfth century) who understand St. Peter to be “the rock,” and he cites forty of the contrary opinion. Yet of the “seventeen,” most of them speak only rhetorically, and with justifiable freedom. I have often done the same myself, on the principle which the same apostle applies to all Christians: “Ye also as lively stones,” etc. But it is quite noteworthy that the Council of Trent itself momentarily adopts the prevailing patristic and therefore the Catholic interpretation, speaking of the Nicene Creed: “In quo omnes qui fidem Christi profitentur necessario conveniunt, ac fundamentum firmum et unicum, contra quod portæ inferi nunquam prævalebunt (Matt. xvi. 18).” Thus, the faith of Peter is confessed the only foundation, in a direct exposition of the text so often quoted with another intent. In spite of all this, the Creed of Pius IV. was enjoined as soon as that council closed; and every member of the late Vatican Council was made to profess the same verbally before any other business was undertaken. Now, even this spurious creed forced them to swear concerning the Holy Scriptures, “I will never take and interpret them otherwise than according to the unanimous consent of the Fathers.” Obviously, according to this rule, there is no Catholic doctrine on the subject; much less any Catholic teaching to the effect that the modern bishops of Rome are “the rock,” as really as St. Peter himself.

How differently our Lord must have settled this inquiry had He given the supremacy to one of the Apostles, or had He designed the supremacy of any single pastor to be perpetual in His Church! “Who should be greatest?” ask this question of any Romanist theologian, and he answers, in the words of the Creed of Pius IV., “the Bishop of Rome, successor to St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, and Vicar of Christ.” But why was no such answer given by our Lord? And why does St. Peter know nothing of it when he says, “The elders who are among you I exhort, who am also an elder…feed the flock of God, taking the oversight…not as being lords over God’s heritage,” etc. So also in the Council of Jerusalem, how humbly he sits under the presidency of James, and again how cheerfully he permits the apostles to send him forth, and “give him mission” to Samaria! St. Paul, moreover, who was “not a whit behind the chiefest of the Apostles,” overrules him, and reforms his judgment.

If I have forborne in these notes to refer frequently to the Treatise of Bishop Sage, who often elucidates our author in a very learned manner, it is because he is almost wholly a controvertist, and therefore not to my purpose in this work. For his Cyprian, however, I entertain a sincere respect; and, as it might seem otherwise should I omit all reference to that work, I place its title in the footnote. Profoundly do I feel what another Scottish Doctor has beautifully said, “It is a loss, even to those that oppose errors and divisions, that they are forced to be busied that way.”

Here, then, we have the idea precisely equivalent to Jer. xlix. 19: “Ecce quasi leo ascendet de superbia Jordanis.” The lion is recumbent among the sprouting twigs (frutice, or foliage) of the Jordan’s banks in the springtime. The swelling of the river, which the melting of snows from Lebanon causes to overflow, rouses the reposing creature; and he goes up into the mountains. But Cyprian had in hand the old African, which seems to follow the LXX., and St. Jerome’s vulgate did not; and this word frutice animates Cyprian’s poetic genius. Its springtide imagery corresponding with Easter, he reads into it all the New Testament fulfilment: “Thou layedst down and sleepedst as a lion, and as a lion’s whelp—but, from the shooting of the first verdure in spring, thou hast gone up on high—thou hast ascended.” “Quis excitabit illum” is separated from this in the Paris text, and in the Septuagint, which the Old Latin followed, and so I have pointed it, though the Edinburgh reads: “and as a lion’s whelp; who shall stir him up?”

This is but a specimen of the way in which Cyprian has been “doctored,” in order to bring him into a shape capable of being misinterpreted. But you will say where is the proof of such interpolations? The greatly celebrated Benedictine edition reads as the interpolated column does, and who would not credit Baluzius? Now note, Baluzius rejected these interpolations and others; but, dying (a.d. 1718) with his work unfinished, the completion of the task was assigned to a nameless monk, who confesses that he corrupted the work of Baluzius, or rather glories in the exploit. “Nay, further,” he says, “it was necessary to alter not a few things in the notes of Baluzius; and more would have been altered if it could have been done conveniently.” Yet the edition came forth, and passes as the genuine work of the erudite Baluzius himself.

From the criticism of a very able editorial hand, I feel it a privilege to insert the following valuable comments:—

It is demonstrated by Sir William Palmer that the Sursum Corda is of a date to which no history runneth contrary, and is to be found in all the primitive liturgies of whatever family. For a very early example of its use, I must refer to the Alexandrian liturgy cited by Bunsen; and, in short, I beg to refer the reader to all the resources of the fourth volume of his Hippolytus. Little as I can approve of the magisterial air with which Dr. Bunsen undertakes to decide all questions, and little as I sympathize with his abnormal religion, which seems to coincide with that of no existing church or sect in the world, I feel grateful for his industry in collecting materials, and am always interested in the ingenuity with which he works them into his theories. Although he possesses some touchstone unknown to the rest of mankind, by which he reaches and utters pontifical decisions as to what is genuine and what is corrupt, I must record my doubts as to many of his facts, and my dissent from most of his inferences. But, unwilling to refer to Anglican authorities on points so much disputed, I cordially turn to the learned Chevalier, and to the treasures he has collected. See the Greek forms on p. 335 of his fourth volume, followed by the preface on p. 336, and the Tersanctus on p. 337: ῝Αγιος, ἅγιος, ἅγιος, κύριε Σαβαώθ, κ.τ.λ

Launoi, the eminent Gallican, found but seventeen of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church (among whom he reckons “Fathers” down to the twelfth century) who understand St. Peter to be “the rock,” and he cites forty of the contrary opinion. Yet of the “seventeen,” most of them speak only rhetorically, and with justifiable freedom. I have often done the same myself, on the principle which the same apostle applies to all Christians: “Ye also as lively stones,” etc. But it is quite noteworthy that the Council of Trent itself momentarily adopts the prevailing patristic and therefore the Catholic interpretation, speaking of the Nicene Creed: “In quo omnes qui fidem Christi profitentur necessario conveniunt, ac fundamentum firmum et unicum, contra quod portæ inferi nunquam prævalebunt (Matt. xvi. 18).” Thus, the faith of Peter is confessed the only foundation, in a direct exposition of the text so often quoted with another intent. In spite of all this, the Creed of Pius IV. was enjoined as soon as that council closed; and every member of the late Vatican Council was made to profess the same verbally before any other business was undertaken. Now, even this spurious creed forced them to swear concerning the Holy Scriptures, “I will never take and interpret them otherwise than according to the unanimous consent of the Fathers.” Obviously, according to this rule, there is no Catholic doctrine on the subject; much less any Catholic teaching to the effect that the modern bishops of Rome are “the rock,” as really as St. Peter himself.

Clement was able to remind the heathen, half a century before, that Christ had “already made the universe an ocean of blessings.” Here we have the moral canons of Christianity reflecting the Light of the World, and they show us how practically it operated. As I have noted, the first Christian hospital was founded (a.d. 350) by Ephraem Syrus. His example was followed by St. Basil, who also founded another for lepers. The founding of hostels as refuges for travellers was an institution of the Nicene period. “In the time of Chrysostom,” says one not too well disposed towards the Gospel, “the church of Antioch supported three thousand widows and virgins, besides strangers and sick. Legacies for the poor became common; and it was not infrequent for men and women who desired to live a life of especial sanctity, and especially for priests who attained the episcopacy, as a first act, to bestow their properties in charity. A Christian, it was maintained, should devote at least one-tenth of his profits to the poor. A priest named Thalasius collected blind beggars in an asylum on the banks of the Euphrates. A merchant named Apollinus founded on Mount Nitria a gratuitous dispensary.”