Young Constantine as a Ward (or Hostage) at Diocletian's Court

Constantine slays a lion in this detail from a 17th century tapestry by Peter Paul Rubens.

As part of the series of tapestries by Peter Paul Rubens on the life of Constantine, we find a vignette from the early life of the first Christian Roman emperor showing him slaying a lion with an audience of Roman soldiers looking on.

This is an odd anecdote from the life of Constantine and one that is not commonly known. Was it based on an actual event? Or was it one of those medieval interpolations meant to enhance the reputation of a beloved hero from Christian antiquity? 

Let's take a look at the ancient sources.

We know from several different sources that before rising to the the imperial authority, Constantine the Great spent much of his early life as a guest/hostage at the imperial court of Diocletian at Nicomedia. This is because when founding the Tetrarchy, the senior Augusti, Diocletian and Maximian, sought to bind their most important underlings via family ties. Thus, once named as Praetorian Prefect of the West about AD 292, Constantine's father, Constantius Chlorus, would set aside his common law wife, Helena, and marry Maximian's step-daughter, Flavia Theodora. 

Not long after, Constantius Chlorus was elevated to the position of Caesar of the West under Maximimian. To further cement this bond, Constantius sent his beloved son via Helena—that is, Constantine—to Diocletian's court at Nicomedia. One of the anonymous Latin panegyricists of Constantine mentions that a mosaic in the imperial palace at Aquileia showed the moment of the promising young man's departure for the East where he is handed a plumed helmet by his future wife (and Maximian's daughter), Fausta. [See Barnes, Eusebius and Constantine, p. 9]

When he arrived in the East somewhere around AD 294 at the age of 21 or 22, Constantine had just attained the full flower of his youthful vigor. Here he would receive a classical education, though it is likely that he already possessed a solid foundation to build upon. His martial skills and prowess at arms were also not to be despised. Indeed, if the words of Constantine's biographers are to be believed, he was a young man of shining parts. Firmianus Lactantius, who very likely served as one of Constantine's teachers during this period, would in later years recall him as:

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"A young man of very great worth and well meriting the high station of Cæsar. The distinguished comeliness of his figure, his strict attention to all military duties, his virtuous demeanor and singular affability, had endeared him to the troops and made him the choice of every individual. He was then at court, having long before been created by Diocletian a tribune of the first order." [Lactantius, On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter XVIII]

It is perhaps not surprising that his admiring biographer, Eusebius Pamphilus, Bishop of Caesarea in Palestine, goes even farther in praise of Constantine's physical gifts saying that:

"...even in the very earliest period of his youth he was judged by [his father's imperial colleagues] to be worthy of the highest honor. An instance of this we have ourselves seen, when he passed through Palestine with the senior emperor [Diocletian], at whose right hand he stood, and commanded the admiration of all who beheld him by the indications he gave even then of royal greatness. For no one was comparable to him for grace and beauty of person, or height of stature; and he so far surpassed his compeers in personal strength as to be a terror to them."

But Eusebius assures us that Constantine was no mere imposing meathead with massive biceps and an underdeveloped brain. Rather, he says that Constantine was:

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"...even more conspicuous for the excellence of his mental qualities than for his superior physical endowments; being gifted in the first place with a sound judgment, and having also reaped the advantages of a liberal education. He was also distinguished in no ordinary degree both by natural intelligence and divinely imparted wisdom." [Eusebius, Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine, Book I, Chapter XIX] 

This decade or so serving in the East would give Constantine ample opportunity to exercise both his intellect and his exceptional physical abilities. He would follow Diocletian and Galerius on numerous military expeditions including campaigns in Syria, in Persia, and along the Danube frontier. By about AD 305, however, it became clear that the exceptional young man was not, in fact, being groomed by the emperors for greater offices. This became unmistakably obvious when Constantine was passed over for promotion to the rank of Caesar upon the abdication of Diocletian and Maximian—a scene described dramatically by Lactantius who was likely an eye-witness. 

It was at about this time, according to Lactantius, that Constantius began to request that his son be permitted to return to him. With the abdication of Diocletian and Maximian in AD 305, Constantius had become Augustus of the West. But the hard-fought campaigns in Gaul and Britain had taken their toll on the aging Augustus, and his health began to fail. This awakened a desire in the older man for the companionship of his eldest son. As a subtext, it is likely that the Augustus was also irked that his son had been passed over for promotion. 

Galerius, the newly self-promoted Augustus of the East, however, had his own political ambitions to consider. These ambitions did not include Constantine and, indeed, Galerius considered Constantine to be a distinct threat. Rather than send Constantine off to be with his father, Galerius decided to send Constantine for the proverbial long walk off a short pier. 

Lactantius provides some details about Galerius's efforts to provide Constantine with a one-way ticket to Elysium, along with an explanation of why these efforts ultimately failed:

"He laid repeated snares for the life of that young man because he dared not use open violence lest he should stir up civil wars against himself and incur that which he most dreaded—the hate and resentment of the army. Under pretense of manly exercise and recreation, he made him combat with wild beasts, but this device was frustrated. For the power of God protected Constantine, and in the very moment of jeopardy rescued him from the hands of Galerius. [Lactantius: On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter XXIV]

Some additional detail comes from the summary of Praxagoras of Athens's work, History of Constantine, which identifies one of the wild beasts in question as a lion: 

"[Galerius] who happened to be there, determined to lay a plot against the youth and set him to fight with a savage lion. But Constantine overcame and slew the beast, and having discovered the plot, took refuge with his father, after whose death he succeeded to the throne." [Synopsis of Praxagoras of Athens's History of Constantine the Great (otherwise lost) included in the Bibliotheca of Photius 9th century, AD]

Full image of Ruben's tapestry shown in detail above.

The Latin manuscript known as Anonymous Valesianus, tentatively dated to the late 4th century AD, elaborates further on Galerius's attempts to have Constantine snuffed out using a method similar to that which King David used to destroy Uriah the Hittite: 

"Galerius first exposed him to many dangers. For when Constantine, then a young man, was serving in the cavalry against the Sarmatians, he seized by the hair and carried off a fierce savage, and threw him at the feet of the emperor Galerius. Then sent by Galerius through a swamp, he entered it on his horse and made a way for the rest to the Sarmatians, of whom he slew many and won the victory for Galerius." [Anonymous Valesianus, Part I:2]

Following these near approaches to death, the young Constantine understood that if he didn't remove himself from the East, Galerius would eventually succeed in having him cut down. Most of the extant sources agree that Galerius finally decided to allow Constantine to return to his father, but Lactantius and Anonymous Valesianus opine that Galerius only acquiesced in order to have Constantine arrested on the road by the troops of his Caesar, Severus, as he traveled through Italy. 

To save himself, Constantine rode at break-neck speed, outpacing the messengers from Galerius to Severus. Multiple sources mention that to frustrate his pursuers, Constantine had all the post horses slain at each station, depriving them of fresh mounts. 

He would eventually reach his ailing father and spend over a year in his company. Some sources say that he joined Constantius in his war against the Picts. All agree that when Constantius I Chlorus passed from this life in York, Constantine was present and would immediately afterwards be acclaimed emperor by his father's soldiers.

Constantine is a favorite subject of mine, so if you found this article to be interesting and would like to read more about the first Christian Roman Emperor, see below:

• Constantine — Military Hero and Christian Emperor
• Death of Constantius I, the father of Constantine the Great ~ Primary Accounts
• Constantine's Vision of the Cross ~ Early Accounts and Backstory
• October 28, AD 312 ~ Constantine defeats Maxentius at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge
• Constantine's Execution of Crispus and Fausta
• Was Constantine a Sincere Christian? ~ In his own words: The Oration of Constantine to the Saints

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Don Giovanni, Lorenzo Da Ponte, and the Unforgivable Sin

Don Giovanni confronts the statue of Il Commendatore at the climax of the eponymous opera.

During Lent, I usually attempt to limit my consumption of secular entertainment and shift over to works with more overt Catholic themes. With this in mind, I noticed a video pop up on my YouTube feed of a work that had long been familiar to me, but that I had never troubled myself to watch in its entirety. 

This was a production of Mozart’s great opera, Don Giovanni. 

Full disclosure: I’m not a huge fan of opera generally, select Gilbert and Sullivan works notwithstanding. Some of the extended Prima Donna arias can really get under my skin.

In the case of Don Giovanni, however, I was willing to put those prejudices aside. 

But wait. How can an opera full of humorous scenes about a complete profligate womanizing scoundrel and his many romantic conquests be Catholic? Well, I’m glad you asked.

I decided on the 1954 production by Salzburger Festspiele, with Cesare Siepi in the lead role, Wilhelm Furtwängler conducting. When I set up the video to watch with my kids, I asked them whether they thought the opera would be a tragedy or a comedy based on Mozart’s music. Listening to the first few minutes of the overture, they thought it sounded very much like a tragedy. But then, inexplicably, the music transitions into something light-hearted. So by the time the singing began, my teens and 20-somethings weren’t really sure which direction things were going to go.

I suspect that’s what Mozart intended. As the opera progresses, we see Don Giovanni, a nobleman living in very Catholic 17th century Spain, behaving like a heathen, particularly with regard to the fair sex. He attempts rape. He murders the victim’s father. He denounces, insults, betrays and abandons his wife, Donna Elvira. He attempts to seduce a bride on her wedding day. His behavior is so awful that a posse of his victims and their protectors seeks to hunt him down and kill him—without success.

Mozart's accompanying score seems to make light of the main character's crimes. Similarly, the librettist, Lorenzo Da Ponte—an ordained Catholic priest whose eventful life sounds more like that of Don Giovanni than Don Bosco — approaches the above litany of evil deeds with a certain casual humor. Indeed, one of the most famous scenes features Don Giovanni’s lackey, the buffoonish Leporello, reciting the numbers of women his rakish padrone had seduced in various countries, finishing his recitation with a count of the Spanish ladies, declaring emphatically: “mille e tre!” — 1,003.

But even though Don Giovanni's sins against Donna Elvira are awful and grave, she is of a mind to forgive her wayward husband. She wishes that he would reform his life and come back to her. She feels genuine pity for him, but her hopes are continually disappointed. Even in the last scene, she comes to plead with him to reform himself, saying: “I want that you change your life!”  

But Don Giovanni cannot, for life to him are wine, feasting, and seduction. He mocks Elvira and she departs in tearful frustration, but not before seeing something terrifying at Don Giovanni’s door.

In a previous scene, Don Giovanni and Leporello had jokingly invited the funerary statue of one of the nobleman’s victims, the slain Commendatore, to visit them for supper. At the base of the statue had been inscribed: “Of the wicked man who bereaved me of life, I wait here for revenge.” To everyone’s shock, the statue of the Commendatore has now arrived at Don Giovanni’s door to sup. 

But strangely, the animated statue has not come to strike down Don Giovanni himself—but to give him a choice, a final chance. The statue offers an invitation to Don Giovanni: Will he sup with him? Despite Leporello’s urging against it, Don Giovanni will not succumb to fear. Indeed, it has never been said of him that he was afraid. He is too proud. He will accept the statue’s invitation. 

But when he grasps the statue’s hand and feels his life ebbing away, even then Don Giovanni is too proud to repent. “Repent!” the statue commands three times. Three times, Don Giovanni says “No!” But this finally, is too much. Whereas his myriad of previous grave sins would have been forgiven, Don Giovanni is now guilty of the worst sin. The ultimate sin. The unforgivable sin. 

Final impenitence. 

There can be only one path from this point forward. The statues cries: “There is no more time!” Immediately, flames appear. Ghastly creatures appear. Demonic beings appear. Don Giovanni is seized and brought to hell amidst a Mozartian blast of music in the suitably terrifying key of D minor. 

It is worth considering that both Mozart and Lorenzo Da Ponte were Catholics, though certainly imperfect ones. In Da Ponte’s case, he was a fallen priest who, at the time he wrote the libretto for Don Giovanni, had fathered several children out of wedlock. Mozart himself, though devoutly Catholic in many areas of his life, was also a Free Mason.

Both da Ponte and Mozart would have been very familiar with the teaching of the Church on final impenitence. This teaching is drawn from the early Church Fathers who considered final impenitence to be the sin against the Holy Spirit mentioned by Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew:

“Therefore I say to you: Every sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven men, but the blasphemy of the Spirit shall not be forgiven. And whosoever shall speak a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him: but he that shall speak against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, nor in the world to come.” [Matthew 12:31-32]

Saint Augustine of Hippo summarizes the teaching as follows:

“For by the Holy Spirit, by whom the people of God are gathered together into one, is the unclean spirit who is divided against himself cast out. Against this gratuitous gift, against this grace of God, does the impenitent heart speak. This impenitence then is the blasphemy of the Spirit, which shall not be forgiven, neither in this world, neither in the world to come.….But this impenitence or impenitent heart may not be pronounced upon, as long as a man lives in the flesh.” [Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 21 on the New Testament, Chapters 19-21]

Don Giovanni, in his final act, final minutes and seconds on the stage, steadfastly refuses to repent, even when he feels his own dissolution at hand. Is it his love of pleasurable sins that drives him to this point? No, it is not. It is only his pride. For truly it is written: “Pride goeth before destruction.”  [Proverbs 16:18]

Portrait of Lorenzo Da Ponte as an elderly
man in America by Samuel Morse. From
the frontispiece of the 1929 edition
of his Memoirs. 

As a somewhat ironic point of emphasis, let’s revisit the strange meandering life of Don Giovanni’s librettist, Lorenzo da Ponte, in light of the above teaching. 

Da Ponte would eventually leave Europe and settle in America with his wife, Nancy Grahl, in 1805. He spent the remaining 30-odd years of his life on a variety of ventures, from opening a bookstore, writing poetry, and building an opera house in New York City, to serving as a professor of Italian literature at Columbia University. He wrote an extensive memoir of his life, the 1929 edition of which includes the following note at the end:

“Early in 1831, Da P. had sent some of his poems and a letter [to his one-time academic colleague, Monsignor Jacopo Monico, who was at this time, Patriarch of Venice]; and the Patriarch had replied with great deference, expressing, among other good wishes, the hope that Da P. ‘might someday settle his affairs that his last moments should not be embittered by any trace of remorse.’ Da P. now sent the Patriarch the “Sonnets to Ann” with assurances that ‘the holy counsel and Christian good wishes’ of that ‘foremost pillar of the portals of the Church of Christ,’ ‘had produced in his soul the effects desired by such a charitable heart.' That was why, seven years later, sensing the approach of death, he felt free to summon the Rev. John MacCloskey, future Bishop of Albany, to his bedside that he might make confession and receive absolution at the hands of the Church.” [Memoirs of Lorenzo da Ponte, p. 491]

So it seems that the librettist of Don Giovanni eventually proved himself a better Christian gentleman than his own rakish character. 

When presented with the command: “Pentiti!” he responded, “Sì!” 

Was Constantine a Sincere Christian? ~ In his own words: The Oration of Constantine to the Saints

At 43 feet in height, the replica of the Colossus of Constantine in Rome is truly impressive.

Most visitors to Rome over the years have marveled at the famous fragments of the Colossus of Constantine. Largely destroyed and dismantled in antiquity, this massive work of marble, wood and bronze once stood in the Basilica of Maxentius. Significant chunks of the Colossus are now located in a courtyard at the Capitoline Museum in Rome where my wife and I visited them on our honeymoon a few decades back. 

In 2024, a magnificent replica of the Colossus was erected nearby in the garden behind the Capitoline Museum. While the sheer size of the work has drawn considerable attention, the fact that it does not display any obvious Christian iconography and, indeed, seems to portray the emperor as Zeus-like, has led some folks to assume that the replica is evidence that Constantine's Christianity was somehow insincere. 

My wife with Constantine's
tremendous head in 2000.

How close this modern replica resembles the original is a matter of conjecture, as its creators exercised some significant interpretive license with regard to the design. This matter is dealt with in considerable detail in an excellent post on the NumisForms site entitled: Designing a Colossus. So I'll not get into much detail on that question here. Suffice it to say that the decision by the Factum Foundation to portray Constantine as Zeus was based on "conjecture, maybe not even particularly well informed conjecture."

The point of this post is to contradict the facile confirmation bias that many experience when seeing this version of the Colossus. The most common immediate reaction is: "See? Constantine was a pagan and portrayed himself as such." 

Well, sure. Up through about AD 306 Constantine was a pagan. Beyond that, he reportedly even had a vision of Apollo a few years before his more famous vision of the Cross. But after the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, Constantine began the process of becoming a Christian. It is not known when exactly he became a catechumen, but after about AD 312 when he and Licinius issued the Edict of Milan, his affinity for Christianity becomes increasingly evident.

By AD 324, following his defeat of Licinius, it is absolutely evident that Constantine is a Christian. Anyone who doubts that can read the words he himself spoke in his Oration to the Saints. The text of this lecture was preserved by the bishop Eusebius Pamphilus who knew Constantine personally and also wrote his well-known ancient biography, Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine. The entire oration is a profession of Constantine's faith and a defense of Christianity. In it, you will find the emperor praying emphatically:

"Do thou, O Christ, Savior of mankind, be present to aid me in my hallowed task! Direct the words which celebrate your virtues, and instruct me worthily to sound your praises." [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 11]

You will also find Constantine presenting evidence for the truth of Christianity, not only from the Hebrew prophets of the Old Testament, but also from pagans such as the Erythrean sibyl and from the Roman poet, Virgil, author of the foundational epic of Rome, the Aeneid. 

The emperor goes on to condemn those pagans who have persecuted Christians, even going so far as to ridicule pagan beliefs, saying: 

"What, then, have you gained by these atrocious deeds, most impious of men? And what was the cause of your insane fury? You will say, doubtless, these acts of yours were done in honor of the gods. What gods are these?...You will allege, perhaps, the customs of your ancestors and the opinion of mankind in general, as the cause of this conduct. I grant the fact: for those customs are very like the acts themselves, and proceed from the self-same source of folly. You thought, it may be, that some special power resided in images formed and fashioned by human art; and hence your reverence, and diligent care lest they should be defiled: those mighty and highly exalted gods, thus dependent on the care of men!" 

[Oration to the Saints, Chapter 22]

Finally, in an echo of his contemporary and sometime confidant, Lactantius, Constantine gives a brief catalog of the dreadful ends suffered by those emperors who persecuted Christians most severely: 

"To you, Decius, I now appeal, who has trampled with insult on the labors of the righteous: to you, the hater of the Church, the punisher of those who lived a holy life: what is now your condition after death? How hard and wretched your present circumstances! Nay, the interval before your death gave proof enough of your miserable fate, when overthrown with all your army on the plains of Scythia, you exposed the vaunted power of Rome to the contempt of the Goths.

You, too, Valerian, who manifested the same spirit of cruelty towards the servants of God, hast afforded an example of righteous judgment. A captive in the enemies' hands, led in chains while yet arrayed in the purple and imperial attire, and at last your skin stripped from you, and preserved by command of Sapor the Persian king, you have left a perpetual trophy of your calamity. 

And thou, Aurelian, fierce perpetrator of every wrong, how signal was your fall, when, in the midst of your wild career in Thrace, you were slain on the public highway, and filled the furrows of the road with your impious blood!" [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 24]

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Of course, he could not leave out his contemporary and one-time mentor/captor, Diocletian. In this passage, Constantine provides his own witness of Diocletian's vicious character and unstable psyche, attributes which are echoed by Lactantius in his own work, On the Deaths of the Persecutors: 

"Diocletian, however, after the display of relentless cruelty as a persecutor, evinced a consciousness of his own guilt and owing to the affliction of a disordered mind, endured the confinement of a mean and separate dwelling. What then, did he gain by his active hostility against our God? Simply this I believe, that he passed the residue of his life in continual dread of the lightning's stroke. Nicomedia attests the fact; eyewitnesses, of whom I myself am one, declare it. The palace, and the emperor's private chamber were destroyed, consumed by lightning, devoured by the fire of heaven. Men of understanding hearts had indeed predicted the issue of such conduct; for they could not keep silence, nor conceal their grief at such unworthy deeds; but boldly and openly expressed their feeling, saying one to another: What madness is this? And what an insolent abuse of power, that man should dare to fight against God; should deliberately insult the most holy and just of all religions; and plan, without the slightest provocation, the destruction of so great a multitude of righteous persons?" [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 25]

Interestingly, Lactantius also reports fire destroying parts of the imperial palace in Nicomedia on two separate occasions 15 days apart. He claims that the fires were set by Diocletian's junior emperor, Galerius, in an effort to frame the Christians for the deeds. [see On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter 14]

Constantine wrapped up his oration with a ringing profession of his faith in Jesus, urging his hearers to pray fervently to Christ:

"It becomes all pious persons to render thanks to the Savior of all, first for our own individual security, and then for the happy posture of public affairs: at the same time intreating the favor of Christ with holy prayers and constant supplications, that he would continue to us our present blessings. For he is the invincible ally and protector of the righteous: he is the supreme judge of all things, the prince of immorality, the Giver of everlasting life." [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 26]

After reading the entirety of Constantine's oration, it becomes impossible to maintain the position that the first Roman emperor to tolerate Christianity formally in law did not truly believe Christian doctrine or remained partially pagan to the end of his life. 

Although he was unbaptized until shortly before his death, Constantine was clearly a believing Christian catechumen with a zeal for bearing witness to the faith even publicly with his own lips.