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History Of The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire Volume 3
by Edward Gibbon, Esq. With notes by the Rev. H. H. Milman

April, 1997 [Etext # 892]

The  Project Gutenberg Etext of History Of The Decline And Fall Of The
Roman Empire Volume 3

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This  is volume three of the six volumes of Edward Gibbon's History Of
The  Decline  And  Fall  Of  The  Roman Empire. If you find any errors
please  feel  free  to notify me of them. I want to make this the best
etext  edition  possible  for  both  scholars  and the general public.
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characters  in  the  footnotes  and  who  has  suggested retaining the
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to send me your comments and I hope you enjoy this.

David Reed

         History Of The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire

Edward Gibbon, Esq.

With notes by the Rev. H. H. Milman

Vol. 3

1782 (Written), 1845 (Revised)

Chapter XXVII: Civil Wars, Reign Of Theodosius.

Part I.

Death  Of Gratian. -- Ruin Of Arianism. -- St. Ambrose. -- First Civil
War,  Against  Maximus.  --  Character, Administration, And Penance Of
Theodosius.  --  Death Of Valentinian II. -- Second Civil War, Against
Eugenius. -- Death Of Theodosius.

The  fame of Gratian, before he had accomplished the twentieth year of
his  age, was equal to that of the most celebrated princes. His gentle
and  amiable  disposition  endeared  him  to  his private friends, the
graceful  affability  of  his  manners  engaged  the  affection of the
people:  the  men of letters, who enjoyed the liberality, acknowledged
the  taste  and eloquence, of their sovereign; his valor and dexterity
in  arms  were  equally  applauded  by  the  soldiers;  and the clergy
considered the humble piety of Gratian as the first and most useful of
his  virtues.  The  victory  of  Colmar  had delivered the West from a
formidable  invasion;  and the grateful provinces of the East ascribed
the  merits  of  Theodosius to the author of his greatness, and of the
public  safety.  Gratian  survived those memorable events only four or
five  years;  but  he  survived  his reputation; and, before he fell a
victim  to rebellion, he had lost, in a great measure, the respect and
confidence of the Roman world.

The  remarkable  alteration  of  his  character  or conduct may not be
imputed  to  the  arts  of  flattery,  which  had  besieged the son of
Valentinian from his infancy; nor to the headstrong passions which the
that  gentle  youth  appears to have escaped. A more attentive view of
the  life  of  Gratian  may  perhaps  suggest  the  true  cause of the
disappointment  of  the public hopes. His apparent virtues, instead of
being  the  hardy  productions  of  experience and adversity, were the
premature  and  artificial  fruits  of  a royal education. The anxious
tenderness  of  his  father  was continually employed to bestow on him
those advantages, which he might perhaps esteem the more highly, as he
himself  had  been  deprived  of them; and the most skilful masters of
every science, and of every art, had labored to form the mind and body
of  the  young prince. The knowledge which they painfully communicated
was displayed with ostentation, and celebrated with lavish praise. His
soft  and  tractable disposition received the fair impression of their
judicious  precepts,  and  the  absence  of  passion  might  easily be
mistaken  for the strength of reason. His preceptors gradually rose to
the  rank  and  consequence of ministers of state: and, as they wisely
dissembled  their  secret  authority,  he seemed to act with firmness,
with  propriety, and with judgment, on the most important occasions of
his  life  and  reign. But the influence of this elaborate instruction
did  not penetrate beyond the surface; and the skilful preceptors, who
so  accurately guided the steps of their royal pupil, could not infuse
into  his  feeble  and indolent character the vigorous and independent
principle  of  action  which  renders  the  laborious pursuit of glory
essentially  necessary  to the happiness, and almost to the existence,
of  the  hero. As soon as time and accident had removed those faithful
counsellors  from  the  throne,  the  emperor  of  the West insensibly
descended  to  the level of his natural genius; abandoned the reins of
government  to  the  ambitious  hands which were stretched forwards to
grasp   them;   and   amused  his  leisure  with  the  most  frivolous
gratifications.  A  public sale of favor and injustice was instituted,
both  in the court and in the provinces, by the worthless delegates of
his power, whose merit it was made sacrilege
to  question.  The  conscience of the credulous prince was directed by
saints  and  bishops;  who  procured an Imperial edict to punish, as a
capital offence, the violation, the neglect, or even the ignorance, of
the  divine  law. Among the various arts which had exercised the youth
of  Gratian,  he  had  applied  himself, with singular inclination and
success,  to  manage  the  horse,  to  draw  the  bow, and to dart the
javelin; and these qualifications, which might be useful to a soldier,
were  prostituted  to  the viler purposes of hunting. Large parks were
enclosed  for  the  Imperial  pleasures,  and plentifully stocked with
every  species  of  wild beasts; and Gratian neglected the duties, and
even  the  dignity,  of  his  rank,  to consume whole days in the vain
display of his dexterity and boldness in the chase. The pride and wish
of  the  Roman  emperor  to  excel  in  an  art,  in which he might be
surpassed  by  the  meanest  of  his  slaves,  reminded  the  numerous
spectators  of  the  examples of Nero and Commodus, but the chaste and
temperate  Gratian  was  a  stranger to their monstrous vices; and his
hands  were  stained  only  with the blood of animals. The behavior of
Gratian,  which  degraded  his character in the eyes of mankind, could
not have disturbed the security of his reign, if the army had not been
provoked  to  resent  their  peculiar  injuries.  As long as the young
emperor  was  guided  by the instructions of his masters, he professed
himself  the  friend and pupil of the soldiers; many of his hours were
spent  in  the  familiar conversation of the camp; and the health, the
comforts, the rewards, the honors, of his faithful troops, appeared to
be  the  objects  of  his  attentive  concern. But, after Gratian more
freely  indulged  his  prevailing  taste  for hunting and shooting, he
naturally  connected  himself with the most dexterous ministers of his
favorite amusement. A body of the Alani was received into the military
and  domestic  service  of  the palace; and the admirable skill, which
they  were  accustomed  to display in the unbounded plains of Scythia,
was  exercised,  on a more narrow theatre, in the parks and enclosures
of  Gaul.  Gratian  admired  the talents and customs of these favorite
guards,  to whom alone he intrusted the defence of his person; and, as
if he meant to insult the public opinion, he frequently showed himself
to the soldiers and people, with the dress and arms, the long bow, the
sounding  quiver,  and  the  fur  garments  of a Scythian warrior. The
unworthy  spectacle of a Roman prince, who had renounced the dress and
manners of his country, filled the minds of the legions with grief and
indignation.  Even the Germans, so strong and formidable in the armies
of  the  empire, affected to disdain the strange and horrid appearance
of  the  savages  of  the North, who, in the space of a few years, had
wandered from the banks of the Volga to those of the Seine. A loud and
licentious  murmur  was  echoed through the camps and garrisons of the
West; and as the mild indolence of Gratian neglected to extinguish the
first  symptoms  of  discontent,  the want of love and respect was not
supplied   by  the  influence  of  fear.  But  the  subversion  of  an
established  government  is  always  a  work of some real, and of much
apparent,  difficulty;  and the throne of Gratian was protected by the
sanctions  of custom, law, religion, and the nice balance of the civil
and  military  powers,  which  had  been  established by the policy of
Constantine.  It  is not very important to inquire from what cause the
revolt  of  Britain  was  produced. Accident is commonly the parent of
disorder;  the seeds of rebellion happened to fall on a soil which was
supposed  to  be more fruitful than any other in tyrants and usurpers;

the  legions  of  that  sequestered  island had been long famous for a
spirit  of  presumption  and  arrogance;  and  the name of Maximus was
proclaimed,  by  the  tumultuary,  but  unanimous  voice,  both of the
soldiers  and  of  the  provincials. The emperor, or the rebel, -- for
this  title  was  not  yet  ascertained by fortune, -- was a native of
Spain, the countryman, the fellow-soldier, and the rival of Theodosius
whose  elevation  he  had  not  seen without some emotions of envy and
resentment:  the  events  of  his  life  had  long  since fixed him in
Britain;  and  I should not be unwilling to find some evidence for the
marriage,  which  he is said to have contracted with the daughter of a
wealthy lord of Caernarvonshire. But this provincial rank might justly
be  considered  as  a state of exile and obscurity; and if Maximus had
obtained  any  civil  or military office, he was not invested with the
authority  either  of governor or general. His abilities, and even his
integrity, are acknowledged by the partial writers of the age; and the
merit  must  indeed  have  been  conspicuous  that could extort such a
confession  in  favor  of  the  vanquished  enemy  of  Theodosius. The
discontent  of Maximus might incline him to censure the conduct of his
sovereign,  and  to encourage, perhaps, without any views of ambition,
the  murmurs  of  the  troops.  But  in  the  midst  of the tumult, he
artfully,  or  modestly, refused to ascend the throne; and some credit
appears  to  have  been given to his own positive declaration, that he
was compelled to accept the dangerous present of the Imperial purple.

But  there  was  danger  likewise in refusing the empire; and from the
moment  that  Maximus  had  violated  his  allegiance  to  his  lawful
sovereign, he could not hope to reign, or even to live, if he confined
his  moderate  ambition within the narrow limits of Britain. He boldly
and  wisely  resolved  to prevent the designs of Gratian; the youth of
the  island  crowded to his standard, and he invaded Gaul with a fleet
and  army, which were long afterwards remembered, as the emigration of
a  considerable  part  of  the  British  nation.  The  emperor, in his
peaceful  residence  of  Paris, was alarmed by their hostile approach;
and the darts which he idly wasted on lions and bears, might have been
employed  more  honorably  against  the rebels. But his feeble efforts
announced  his degenerate spirit and desperate situation; and deprived
him  of the resources, which he still might have found, in the support
of  his  subjects  and allies. The armies of Gaul, instead of opposing
the march of Maximus, received him with joyful and loyal acclamations;
and  the shame of the desertion was transferred from the people to the
prince.  The  troops,  whose station more immediately attached them to
the service of the palace, abandoned the standard of Gratian the first
time  that  it was displayed in the neighborhood of Paris. The emperor
of  the  West  fled  towards Lyons, with a train of only three hundred
horse;  and,  in  the  cities  along  the road, where he hoped to find
refuge,  or  at  least  a passage, he was taught, by cruel experience,
that  every  gate  is shut against the unfortunate. Yet he might still
have  reached,  in safety, the dominions of his brother; and soon have
returned with the forces of Italy and the East; if he had not suffered
himself  to  be  fatally  deceived  by  the perfidious governor of the
Lyonnese  province.  Gratian  was  amused by protestations of doubtful
fidelity,  and  the  hopes of a support, which could not be effectual;
till  the  arrival  of  Andragathius,  the  general  of the cavalry of
Maximus,  put  an end to his suspense. That resolute officer executed,
without  remorse, the orders or the intention of the usurper. Gratian,
as  he rose from supper, was delivered into the hands of the assassin:
and  his  body  was denied to the pious and pressing entreaties of his
brother  Valentinian. The death of the emperor was followed by that of
his  powerful  general  Mellobaudes,  the  king  of  the  Franks;  who
maintained,  to the last moment of his life, the ambiguous reputation,
which  is  the  just  recompense  of  obscure and subtle policy. These
executions might be necessary to the public safety: but the successful
usurper,  whose  power  was  acknowledged  by all the provinces of the
West,  had  the merit, and the satisfaction, of boasting, that, except
those  who  had  perished  by  the  chance of war, his triumph was not
stained by the blood of the Romans.

The  events  of  this  revolution had passed in such rapid succession,
that  it  would  have  been  impossible for Theodosius to march to the
relief  of  his benefactor, before he received the intelligence of his
defeat  and death. During the season of sincere grief, or ostentatious
mourning,  the  Eastern  emperor was interrupted by the arrival of the
principal  chamberlain  of  Maximus; and the choice of a venerable old
man,  for  an office which was usually exercised by eunuchs, announced
to  the  court  of  Constantinople  the  gravity and temperance of the
British  usurper.  The  ambassador condescended to justify, or excuse,
the  conduct of his master; and to protest, in specious language, that
the  murder  of Gratian had been perpetrated, without his knowledge or
consent, by the precipitate zeal of the soldiers. But he proceeded, in
a  firm  and equal tone, to offer Theodosius the alternative of peace,
or  war.  The  speech  of  the  ambassador  concluded  with a spirited
declaration,  that  although Maximus, as a Roman, and as the father of
his  people,  would  choose  rather to employ his forces in the common
defence  of the republic, he was armed and prepared, if his friendship
should  be  rejected,  to dispute, in a field of battle, the empire of
the world. An immediate and peremptory answer was required; but it was
extremely  difficult  for  Theodosius  to  satisfy,  on this important
occasion,  either the feelings of his own mind, or the expectations of
the  public.  The  imperious voice of honor and gratitude called aloud
for  revenge.  From  the  liberality  of  Gratian, he had received the
Imperial  diadem;  his  patience would encourage the odious suspicion,
that  he  was  more deeply sensible of former injuries, than of recent
obligations;  and if he accepted the friendship, he must seem to share
the  guilt,  of  the assassin. Even the principles of justice, and the
interest  of  society, would receive a fatal blow from the impunity of
Maximus;  and  the  example  of  successful  usurpation  would tend to
dissolve  the  artificial  fabric  of  government,  and  once  more to
replunge the empire in the crimes and calamities of the preceding age.
But,  as  the  sentiments  of  gratitude  and  honor should invariably
regulate the conduct of an individual, they may be overbalanced in the
mind  of  a sovereign, by the sense of superior duties; and the maxims
both  of  justice  and humanity must permit the escape of an atrocious

criminal,  if an innocent people would be involved in the consequences
of  his  punishment.  The  assassin  of  Gratian  had  usurped, but he
actually possessed, the most warlike provinces of the empire: the East
was  exhausted  by  the  misfortunes,  and even by the success, of the
Gothic  war;  and  it was seriously to be apprehended, that, after the
vital  strength  of  the  republic  had  been wasted in a doubtful and
destructive contest, the feeble conqueror would remain an easy prey to
the  Barbarians  of  the  North.  These weighty considerations engaged
Theodosius  to dissemble his resentment, and to accept the alliance of
the  tyrant.  But  he  stipulated, that Maximus should content himself
with  the  possession of the countries beyond the Alps. The brother of
Gratian was confirmed and secured in the sovereignty of Italy, Africa,
and the Western Illyricum; and some honorable conditions were inserted
in  the  treaty,  to protect the memory, and the laws, of the deceased
emperor.  According  to the custom of the age, the images of the three
Imperial  colleagues  were  exhibited to the veneration of the people;
nor  should  it  be  lightly supposed, that, in the moment of a solemn
reconciliation, Theodosius secretly cherished the intention of perfidy
and revenge.

The  contempt of Gratian for the Roman soldiers had exposed him to the
fatal  effects  of  their  resentment. His profound veneration for the
Christian  clergy  was  rewarded  by  the  applause and gratitude of a
powerful  order,  which  has  claimed,  in every age, the privilege of
dispensing  honors,  both on earth and in heaven. The orthodox bishops
bewailed his death, and their own irreparable loss; but they were soon
comforted  by the discovery, that Gratian had committed the sceptre of
the  East  to  the  hands  of a prince, whose humble faith and fervent
zeal,  were  supported  by the spirit and abilities of a more vigorous
character.   Among   the  benefactors  of  the  church,  the  fame  of
Constantine   has  been  rivalled  by  the  glory  of  Theodosius.  If
Constantine  had  the advantage of erecting the standard of the cross,
the emulation of his successor assumed the merit of subduing the Arian
heresy,  and  of  abolishing  the worship of idols in the Roman world.
Theodosius was the first of the emperors baptized in the true faith of
the  Trinity.  Although he was born of a Christian family, the maxims,
or  at  least  the  practice,  of the age, encouraged him to delay the
ceremony  of  his  initiation; till he was admonished of the danger of
delay,  by  the serious illness which threatened his life, towards the
end  of  the  first  year of his reign. Before he again took the field
against the Goths, he received the sacrament of baptism from Acholius,
the orthodox bishop of Thessalonica: and, as the emperor ascended from
the  holy  font, still glowing with the warm feelings of regeneration,
he  dictated  a  solemn  edict,  which  proclaimed  his own faith, and
prescribed  the religion of his subjects. "It is our pleasure (such is
the  Imperial  style)  that all the nations, which are governed by our
clemency  and  moderation,  should  steadfastly adhere to the religion
which  was taught by St. Peter to the Romans; which faithful tradition
has  preserved; and which is now professed by the pontiff Damasus, and
by Peter, bishop of Alexandria, a man of apostolic holiness. According
to the discipline of the apostles, and the doctrine of the gospel, let
us  believe the sole deity of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost;
under  an  equal  majesty,  and  a  pious  Trinity.  We  authorize the
followers of this doctrine to assume the title of Catholic Christians;
and as we judge, that all others are extravagant madmen, we brand them
with   the   infamous   name  of  Heretics;  and  declare  that  their
conventicles  shall  no  longer  usurp  the respectable appellation of
churches. Besides the condemnation of divine justice, they must expect
to  suffer  the  severe  penalties,  which  our  authority,  guided by
heavenly  wisdom,  shall think proper to inflict upon them." The faith
of  a  soldier  is  commonly  the fruit of instruction, rather than of
inquiry;  but  as  the  emperor  always  fixed his eyes on the visible
landmarks  of  orthodoxy,  which  he had so prudently constituted, his
religious  opinions  were  never  affected  by the specious texts, the
subtle  arguments, and the ambiguous creeds of the Arian doctors. Once
indeed  he expressed a faint inclination to converse with the eloquent
and learned Eunomius, who lived in retirement at a small distance from
Constantinople.  But  the  dangerous  interview  was  prevented by the
prayers  of  the  empress Flaccilla, who trembled for the salvation of
her husband; and the mind of Theodosius was confirmed by a theological
argument,  adapted  to  the rudest capacity. He had lately bestowed on
his eldest son, Arcadius, the name and honors of Augustus, and the two
princes were seated on a stately throne to receive the homage of their
subjects.  A  bishop,  Amphilochius of Iconium, approached the throne,
and  after  saluting, with due reverence, the person of his sovereign,
he accosted the royal youth with the same familiar tenderness which he
might  have  used  towards a plebeian child. Provoked by this insolent
behavior,  the  monarch  gave orders, that the rustic priest should be
instantly  driven from his presence. But while the guards were forcing
him to the door, the dexterous polemic had time to execute his design,
by  exclaiming,  with a loud voice, "Such is the treatment, O emperor!
which  the  King  of  heaven  has  prepared for those impious men, who
affect  to  worship  the  Father,  but refuse to acknowledge the equal
majesty of his divine Son." Theodosius immediately embraced the bishop
of  Iconium,  and  never  forgot  the  important  lesson, which he had
received from this dramatic parable.

Chapter XXVII: Civil Wars, Reign Of Theodosius. -- Part II.

Constantinople  was  the principal seat and fortress of Arianism; and,
in  a  long  interval  of  forty  years,  the faith of the princes and
prelates,  who reigned in the capital of the East, was rejected in the
purer  schools  of  Rome  and Alexandria. The archiepiscopal throne of
Macedonius,  which had been polluted with so much Christian blood, was
successively filled by Eudoxus and Damophilus. Their diocese enjoyed a
free  importation of vice and error from every province of the empire;
the  eager  pursuit of religious controversy afforded a new occupation
to  the  busy  idleness  of  the  metropolis;  and  we  may credit the
assertion  of  an  intelligent  observer,  who  describes,  with  some
pleasantry,  the  effects  of their loquacious zeal. "This city," says
he,  "is  full  of  mechanics and slaves, who are all of them profound
theologians;  and  preach  in  the  shops,  and in the streets. If you
desire  a man to change a piece of silver, he informs you, wherein the
Son  differs  from the Father; if you ask the price of a loaf, you are
told  by  way of reply, that the Son is inferior to the Father; and if
you  inquire,  whether  the bath is ready, the answer is, that the Son
was  made  out  of  nothing."  The heretics, of various denominations,
subsisted   in   peace   under   the   protection  of  the  Arians  of
Constantinople;  who  endeavored  to  secure  the  attachment of those
obscure  sectaries,  while they abused, with unrelenting severity, the
victory  which  they had obtained over the followers of the council of
Nice.  During the partial reigns of Constantius and Valens, the feeble
remnant  of  the  Homoousians  was  deprived of the public and private
exercise  of  their  religion;  and  it has been observed, in pathetic
language,  that  the  scattered  flock  was left without a shepherd to
wander  on  the mountains, or to be devoured by rapacious wolves. But,
as  their  zeal,  instead of being subdued, derived strength and vigor
from  oppression,  they seized the first moments of imperfect freedom,
which  they  had  acquired  by the death of Valens, to form themselves
into a regular congregation, under the conduct of an episcopal pastor.
Two   natives  of  Cappadocia,  Basil,  and  Gregory  Nazianzen,  were
distinguished  above  all  their  contemporaries, by the rare union of
profane  eloquence  and  of  orthodox  piety. These orators, who might
sometimes  be  compared, by themselves, and by the public, to the most
celebrated  of  the  ancient  Greeks,  were  united by the ties of the
strictest  friendship. They had cultivated, with equal ardor, the same
liberal studies in the schools of Athens; they had retired, with equal
devotion,  to  the  same  solitude in the deserts of Pontus; and every
spark  of  emulation,  or envy, appeared to be totally extinguished in
the  holy  and  ingenuous  breasts  of  Gregory  and  Basil.  But  the
exaltation  of Basil, from a private life to the archiepiscopal throne
of C�sarea, discovered to the world, and perhaps to himself, the pride
of  his character; and the first favor which he condescended to bestow
on  his  friend,  was  received,  and perhaps was intended, as a cruel
insult.  Instead  of employing the superior talents of Gregory in some
useful  and  conspicuous  station, the haughty prelate selected, among
the  fifty  bishoprics of his extensive province, the wretched village
of Sasima, without water, without verdure, without society, situate at
the  junction  of three highways, and frequented only by the incessant
passage  of  rude  and  clamorous  wagoners.  Gregory  submitted  with
reluctance  to  this  humiliating  exile;  he  was  ordained bishop of
Sasima;  but  he  solemnly  protests,  that  he  never consummated his
spiritual marriage with this disgusting bride. He afterwards consented
to  undertake  the  government  of  his native church of Nazianzus, of
which his father had been bishop above five-and-forty years. But as he
was  still  conscious  that  he deserved another audience, and another
theatre,  he  accepted,  with  no  unworthy  ambition,  the  honorable
invitation,  which  was  addressed  to  him from the orthodox party of
Constantinople. On his arrival in the capital, Gregory was entertained
in the house of a pious and charitable kinsman; the most spacious room
was  consecrated  to  the  uses  of religious worship; and the name of
Anastasia
was  chosen  to  express  the  resurrection  of the Nicene faith. This
private  conventicle  was  afterwards  converted  into  a  magnificent
church;  and  the  credulity  of  the  succeeding  age was prepared to
believe  the  miracles and visions, which attested the presence, or at
least  the  protection,  of  the  Mother  of  God.  The  pulpit of the
Anastasia  was  the  scene  of  the  labors  and  triumphs  of Gregory
Nazianzen;  and,  in  the  space  of two years, he experienced all the
spiritual  adventures  which  constitute  the  prosperous  or  adverse
fortunes  of  a  missionary.  The  Arians,  who  were  provoked by the
boldness  of  his  enterprise,  represented his doctrine, as if he had
preached three distinct and equal Deities; and the devout populace was
excited  to suppress, by violence and tumult, the irregular assemblies
of  the  Athanasian  heretics.  From the cathedral of St. Sophia there
issued  a  motley  crowd  "of  common beggars, who had forfeited their
claim  to  pity;  of monks, who had the appearance of goats or satyrs;
and  of  women, more terrible than so many Jezebels." The doors of the
Anastasia   were   broke  open;  much  mischief  was  perpetrated,  or
attempted,  with sticks, stones, and firebrands; and as a man lost his
life  in the affray, Gregory, who was summoned the next morning before
the  magistrate,  had  the satisfaction of supposing, that he publicly
confessed the name of Christ. After he was delivered from the fear and
danger  of  a  foreign  enemy,  his  infant  church  was disgraced and
distracted  by  intestine  faction. A stranger who assumed the name of
Maximus, and the cloak of a Cynic philosopher, insinuated himself into
the  confidence of Gregory; deceived and abused his favorable opinion;
and forming a secret connection with some bishops of Egypt, attempted,
by  a  clandestine ordination, to supplant his patron in the episcopal
seat of Constantinople. These mortifications might sometimes tempt the
Cappadocian  missionary  to  regret  his  obscure  solitude.  But  his
fatigues  were  rewarded  by  the  daily  increase of his fame and his
congregation;  and  he  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of observing, that the
greater  part  of  his  numerous  audience  retired  from  his sermons
satisfied with the eloquence of the preacher, or dissatisfied with the
manifold imperfections of their faith and practice.

The  Catholics  of Constantinople were animated with joyful confidence
by  the  baptism  and edict of Theodosius; and they impatiently waited
the  effects  of  his  gracious  promise.  Their  hopes  were speedily
accomplished;  and  the  emperor,  as  soon  as  he  had  finished the
operations  of the campaign, made his public entry into the capital at
the  head  of  a  victorious  army. The next day after his arrival, he
summoned  Damophilus  to  his presence, and offered that Arian prelate
the  hard alternative of subscribing the Nicene creed, or of instantly
resigning,  to  the  orthodox believers, the use and possession of the
episcopal palace, the cathedral of St. Sophia, and all the churches of
Constantinople.  The  zeal  of  Damophilus,  which in a Catholic saint
would have been justly applauded, embraced, without hesitation, a life
of  poverty and exile, and his removal was immediately followed by the
purification  of  the  Imperial  city. The Arians might complain, with
some  appearance  of  justice,  that an inconsiderable congregation of
sectaries   should   usurp  the  hundred  churches,  which  they  were
insufficient  to  fill;  whilst the far greater part of the people was
cruelly excluded from every place of religious worship. Theodosius was
still  inexorable;  but as the angels who protected the Catholic cause
were  only visible to the eyes of faith, he prudently re�nforced those
heavenly  legions  with  the more effectual aid of temporal and carnal
weapons;  and the church of St. Sophia was occupied by a large body of
the  Imperial guards. If the mind of Gregory was susceptible of pride,
he  must  have  felt  a  very  lively  satisfaction,  when the emperor
conducted him through the streets in solemn triumph; and, with his own
hand,   respectfully  placed  him  on  the  archiepiscopal  throne  of
Constantinople.  But  the saint (who had not subdued the imperfections
of  human virtue) was deeply affected by the mortifying consideration,
that  his  entrance into the fold was that of a wolf, rather than of a
shepherd;  that  the glittering arms which surrounded his person, were
necessary  for  his  safety;  and  that he alone was the object of the
imprecations  of  a  great  party,  whom,  as men and citizens, it was
impossible  for him to despise. He beheld the innumerable multitude of
either  sex,  and  of every age, who crowded the streets, the windows,
and  the  roofs  of the houses; he heard the tumultuous voice of rage,
grief,  astonishment,  and despair; and Gregory fairly confesses, that
on the memorable day of his installation, the capital of the East wore
the  appearance  of  a  city  taken  by  storm,  and in the hands of a
Barbarian  conqueror.  About six weeks afterwards, Theodosius declared
his resolution of expelling from all the churches of his dominions the
bishops  and their clergy who should obstinately refuse to believe, or
at  least  to  profess,  the  doctrine  of  the  council  of Nice. His
lieutenant, Sapor, was armed with the ample powers of a general law, a
special  commission,  and  a  military  force; and this ecclesiastical
revolution  was  conducted with so much discretion and vigor, that the
religion  of the emperor was established, without tumult or bloodshed,
in  all the provinces of the East. The writings of the Arians, if they
had  been  permitted  to  exist,  would perhaps contain the lamentable
story  of  the persecution, which afflicted the church under the reign
of the impious Theodosius; and the sufferings of their
holy  confessors might claim the pity of the disinterested reader. Yet
there is reason to imagine, that the violence of zeal and revenge was,
in  some measure, eluded by the want of resistance; and that, in their
adversity,  the  Arians  displayed  much  less  firmness than had been
exerted  by  the  orthodox  party  under the reigns of Constantius and
Valens. The moral character and conduct of the hostile sects appear to
have  been  governed  by  the  same  common  principles  of nature and
religion:  but  a  very material circumstance may be discovered, which
tended  to  distinguish  the  degrees of their theological faith. Both
parties,  in  the schools, as well as in the temples, acknowledged and
worshipped  the  divine majesty of Christ; and, as we are always prone
to  impute  our  own sentiments and passions to the Deity, it would be
deemed   more   prudent   and   respectful   to  exaggerate,  than  to
circumscribe, the adorable perfections of the Son of God. The disciple
of  Athanasius  exulted  in the proud confidence, that he had entitled
himself  to  the  divine  favor; while the follower of Arius must have
been  tormented  by  the  secret  apprehension,  that  he  was guilty,
perhaps,  of  an  unpardonable  offence,  by  the  scanty  praise, and
parsimonious  honors, which he bestowed on the Judge of the World. The
opinions  of  Arianism  might satisfy a cold and speculative mind: but
the  doctrine  of the Nicene creed, most powerfully recommended by the
merits  of  faith  and  devotion,  was  much  better adapted to become
popular and successful in a believing age.

The  hope,  that  truth and wisdom would be found in the assemblies of
the   orthodox   clergy,   induced   the   emperor   to   convene,  at
Constantinople,  a  synod  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  bishops,  who
proceeded,   without   much  difficulty  or  delay,  to  complete  the
theological  system which had been established in the council of Nice.
The  vehement disputes of the fourth century had been chiefly employed
on  the  nature of the Son of God; and the various opinions which were
embraced, concerning the Second
,  were  extended  and transferred, by a natural analogy, to the Third
person of the Trinity. Yet it was found, or it was thought, necessary,
by  the  victorious  adversaries of Arianism, to explain the ambiguous
language  of  some  respectable  doctors;  to confirm the faith of the
Catholics;  and  to  condemn  an  unpopular  and  inconsistent sect of
Macedonians;  who  freely  admitted that the Son was consubstantial to
the  Father,  while  they  were  fearful of seeming to acknowledge the
existence of Three Gods. A final and unanimous sentence was pronounced
to  ratify  the equal Deity of the Holy Ghost: the mysterious doctrine
has  been  received  by  all  the nations, and all the churches of the
Christian  world;  and  their  grateful  reverence has assigned to the
bishops  of  Theodosius  the  second  rank among the general councils.
Their  knowledge  of  religious  truth  may  have  been  preserved  by
tradition,  or  it  may have been communicated by inspiration; but the
sober  evidence  of history will not allow much weight to the personal
authority  of  the  Fathers  of  Constantinople.  In  an  age when the
ecclesiastics had scandalously degenerated from the model of apostolic
purity,  the  most worthless and corrupt were always the most eager to
frequent,  and  disturb,  the  episcopal  assemblies. The conflict and
fermentation  of  so  many opposite interests and tempers inflamed the
passions  of  the bishops: and their ruling passions were, the love of
gold,  and  the  love  of  dispute.  Many of the same prelates who now
applauded  the  orthodox  piety of Theodosius, had repeatedly changed,
with  prudent  flexibility,  their  creeds  and  opinions;  and in the

various  revolutions  of  the  church and state, the religion of their
sovereign  was  the  rule  of their obsequious faith. When the emperor
suspended  his  prevailing  influence, the turbulent synod was blindly
impelled  by  the  absurd  or  selfish  motives  of  pride, hatred, or
resentment.  The  death  of Meletius, which happened at the council of
Constantinople,   presented   the   most   favorable   opportunity  of
terminating  the  schism  of  Antioch,  by  suffering  his aged rival,
Paulinus,  peaceably to end his days in the episcopal chair. The faith
and  virtues of Paulinus were unblemished. But his cause was supported
by  the  Western  churches;  and  the bishops of the synod resolved to
perpetuate  the  mischiefs  of  discord,  by the hasty ordination of a
perjured  candidate, rather than to betray the imagined dignity of the
East,  which had been illustrated by the birth and death of the Son of
God. Such unjust and disorderly proceedings forced the gravest members
of  the  assembly to dissent and to secede; and the clamorous majority
which  remained masters of the field of battle, could be compared only
to wasps or magpies, to a flight of cranes, or to a flock of geese.

A  suspicion  may  possibly  arise,  that  so unfavorable a picture of
ecclesiastical  synods  has  been  drawn  by  the partial hand of some
obstinate  heretic,  or  some  malicious  infidel. But the name of the
sincere  historian  who  has  conveyed  this instructive lesson to the
knowledge   of   posterity,  must  silence  the  impotent  murmurs  of
superstition  and  bigotry.  He was one of the most pious and eloquent
bishops  of  the age; a saint, and a doctor of the church; the scourge
of  Arianism,  and  the  pillar of the orthodox faith; a distinguished
member  of the council of Constantinople, in which, after the death of
Meletius,  he  exercised  the  functions  of  president;  in a word --
Gregory Nazianzen himself. The harsh and ungenerous treatment which he
experienced,  instead  of  derogating  from the truth of his evidence,
affords   an  additional  proof  of  the  spirit  which  actuated  the
deliberations of the synod. Their unanimous suffrage had confirmed the
pretensions which the bishop of Constantinople derived from the choice
of  the  people,  and the approbation of the emperor. But Gregory soon
became  the  victim  of  malice and envy. The bishops of the East, his
strenuous  adherents,  provoked  by  his  moderation in the affairs of
Antioch, abandoned him, without support, to the adverse faction of the
Egyptians;  who  disputed the validity of his election, and rigorously
asserted  the  obsolete canon, that prohibited the licentious practice
of  episcopal  translations.  The  pride,  or the humility, of Gregory
prompted  him  to  decline  a contest which might have been imputed to
ambition  and  avarice;  and  he  publicly  offered,  not without some
mixture  of  indignation, to renounce the government of a church which
had  been restored, and almost created, by his labors. His resignation
was  accepted  by  the  synod, and by the emperor, with more readiness
than  he  seems to have expected. At the time when he might have hoped
to enjoy the fruits of his victory, his episcopal throne was filled by
the   senator   Nectarius;   and   the  new  archbishop,  accidentally
recommended  by  his  easy temper and venerable aspect, was obliged to
delay  the  ceremony  of  his  consecration,  till  he  had previously
despatched  the rites of his baptism. After this remarkable experience
of  the ingratitude of princes and prelates, Gregory retired once more
to his obscure solitude of Cappadocia; where he employed the remainder
of  his  life,  about  eight  years,  in  the  exercises of poetry and
devotion.  The  title  of  Saint  has  been added to his name: but the
tenderness  of  his  heart,  and the elegance of his genius, reflect a
more pleasing lustre on the memory of Gregory Nazianzen.

It was not enough that Theodosius had suppressed the insolent reign of
Arianism,  or  that  he had abundantly revenged the injuries which the
Catholics  sustained  from  the  zeal  of  Constantius and Valens. The
orthodox  emperor  considered  every  heretic  as  a rebel against the
supreme  powers of heaven and of earth; and each of those powers might
exercise  their  peculiar  jurisdiction  over the soul and body of the
guilty.  The  decrees of the council of Constantinople had ascertained
the  true  standard  of the faith; and the ecclesiastics, who governed
the  conscience of Theodosius, suggested the most effectual methods of
persecution.  In  the  space of fifteen years, he promulgated at least
fifteen  severe  edicts  against the heretics; more especially against
those who rejected the doctrine of the Trinity; and to deprive them of
every  hope  of  escape,  he  sternly  enacted,  that  if  any laws or
rescripts should be alleged in their favor, the judges should consider
them  as the illegal productions either of fraud or forgery. The penal
statutes  were directed against the ministers, the assemblies, and the
persons  of  the  heretics;  and  the  passions of the legislator were
expressed  in  the  language  of  declamation  and  invective.  I. The
heretical  teachers,  who  usurped  the  sacred  titles of Bishops, or
Presbyters,  were not only excluded from the privileges and emoluments
so  liberally granted to the orthodox clergy, but they were exposed to
the  heavy  penalties  of  exile and confiscation, if they presumed to
preach the doctrine, or to practise the rites, of their accursed
sects.  A  fine  of  ten  pounds  of  gold  (above four hundred pounds
sterling)  was  imposed  on every person who should dare to confer, or
receive,  or  promote,  an heretical ordination: and it was reasonably
expected,  that  if  the  race of pastors could be extinguished, their
helpless flocks would be compelled, by ignorance and hunger, to return
within  the  pale of the Catholic church. II. The rigorous prohibition
of conventicles was carefully extended to every possible circumstance,
in which the heretics could assemble with the intention of worshipping
God  and  Christ  according to the dictates of their conscience. Their
religious  meetings,  whether public or secret, by day or by night, in
cities  or  in  the  country, were equally proscribed by the edicts of
Theodosius;  and the building, or ground, which had been used for that
illegal  purpose,  was  forfeited  to the Imperial domain. III. It was
supposed,  that  the error of the heretics could proceed only from the
obstinate  temper  of  their  minds;  and that such a temper was a fit
object  of  censure  and  punishment. The anathemas of the church were
fortified  by  a  sort  of civil excommunication; which separated them
from  their  fellow- citizens, by a peculiar brand of infamy; and this
declaration  of  the supreme magistrate tended to justify, or at least
to  excuse,  the  insults  of  a  fanatic populace. The sectaries were
gradually  disqualified  from the possession of honorable or lucrative
employments;  and  Theodosius was satisfied with his own justice, when
he decreed, that, as the Eunomians distinguished the nature of the Son
from  that  of  the  Father,  they should be incapable of making their
wills  or  of receiving any advantage from testamentary donations. The
guilt  of the Manich�an heresy was esteemed of such magnitude, that it
could  be  expiated  only  by  the death of the offender; and the same
capital  punishment  was  inflicted on the Audians, or Quartodecimans,
who should dare to perpetrate the atrocious crime of celebrating on an
improper  day  the  festival of Easter. Every Roman might exercise the
right  of  public  accusation;  but  the  office of Inquisitors of the
Faith,  a  name so deservedly abhorred, was first instituted under the
reign  of  Theodosius.  Yet  we are assured, that the execution of his
penal  edicts was seldom enforced; and that the pious emperor appeared
less  desirous  to punish, than to reclaim, or terrify, his refractory
subjects.

The theory of persecution was established by Theodosius, whose justice
and  piety  have been applauded by the saints: but the practice of it,
in  the  fullest  extent,  was  reserved  for his rival and colleague,
Maximus, the first, among the Christian princes, who shed the blood of
his  Christian  subjects  on  account of their religious opinions. The
cause of the Priscillianists, a recent sect of heretics, who disturbed
the  provinces of Spain, was transferred, by appeal, from the synod of
Bordeaux  to the Imperial consistory of Treves; and by the sentence of
the  Pr�torian  pr�fect,  seven  persons were tortured, condemned, and
executed. The first of these was Priscillian himself, bishop of Avila,
in  Spain;  who  adorned  the  advantages of birth and fortune, by the
accomplishments  of  eloquence  and  learning. Two presbyters, and two
deacons,  accompanied  their  beloved  master in his death, which they
esteemed  as a glorious martyrdom; and the number of religious victims
was  completed by the execution of Latronian, a poet, who rivalled the
fame  of  the  ancients; and of Euchrocia, a noble matron of Bordeaux,
the  widow  of the orator Delphidius. Two bishops who had embraced the
sentiments  of  Priscillian,  were  condemned  to a distant and dreary
exile;  and  some  indulgence  was  shown to the meaner criminals, who
assumed  the  merit  of  an  early  repentance. If any credit could be
allowed to confessions extorted by fear or pain, and to vague reports,
the   offspring   of   malice   and   credulity,  the  heresy  of  the
Priscillianists  would be found to include the various abominations of
magic,  of  impiety,  and of lewdness. Priscillian, who wandered about
the  world  in  the  company  of his spiritual sisters, was accused of
praying  stark  naked  in  the  midst  of the congregation; and it was
confidently  asserted,  that  the  effects of his criminal intercourse
with  the  daughter  of  Euchrocia had been suppressed, by means still
more odious and criminal. But an accurate, or rather a candid, inquiry
will  discover,  that  if  the  Priscillianists  violated  the laws of
nature,  it  was  not  by the licentiousness, but by the austerity, of
their  lives.  They  absolutely condemned the use of the marriage-bed;
and   the   peace  of  families  was  often  disturbed  by  indiscreet
separations. They enjoyed, or recommended, a total abstinence from all
anima food; and their continual prayers, fasts, and vigils, inculcated
a  rule  of strict and perfect devotion. The speculative tenets of the
sect,  concerning  the  person  of Christ, and the nature of the human
soul,  were  derived  from  the Gnostic and Manich�an system; and this
vain  philosophy,  which had been transported from Egypt to Spain, was
ill  adapted to the grosser spirits of the West. The obscure disciples
of  Priscillian  suffered  languished,  and gradually disappeared: his
tenets  were  rejected by the clergy and people, but his death was the
subject  of a long and vehement controversy; while some arraigned, and
others  applauded,  the  justice  of his sentence. It is with pleasure
that  we  can observe the humane inconsistency of the most illustrious
saints  and  bishops,  Ambrose  of Milan, and Martin of Tours, who, on
this  occasion,  asserted  the  cause  of  toleration. They pitied the
unhappy  men,  who  had  been executed at Treves; they refused to hold
communion  with their episcopal murderers; and if Martin deviated from
that   generous   resolution,  his  motives  were  laudable,  and  his
repentance  was  exemplary. The bishops of Tours and Milan pronounced,
without  hesitation,  the eternal damnation of heretics; but they were
surprised,  and  shocked, by the bloody image of their temporal death,
and  the  honest feelings of nature resisted the artificial prejudices
of  theology.  The humanity of Ambrose and Martin was confirmed by the
scandalous irregularity of the proceedings against Priscillian and his
adherents. The civil and ecclesiastical ministers had transgressed the
limits  of  their respective provinces. The secular judge had presumed
to  receive  an  appeal,  and to pronounce a definitive sentence, in a
matter of faith, and episcopal jurisdiction. The bishops had disgraced
themselves,  by  exercising  the  functions  of accusers in a criminal
prosecution.  The  cruelty  of  Ithacius, who beheld the tortures, and
solicited the death, of the heretics, provoked the just indignation of
mankind;  and  the  vices of that profligate bishop were admitted as a
proof, that his zeal was instigated by the sordid motives of interest.
Since  the death of Priscillian, the rude attempts of persecution have
been  refined  and  methodized in the holy office, which assigns their
distinct  parts  to the ecclesiastical and secular powers. The devoted
victim  is regularly delivered by the priest to the magistrate, and by
the  magistrate to the executioner; and the inexorable sentence of the
church,  which  declares  the  spiritual  guilt  of  the  offender, is
expressed in the mild language of pity and intercession.

Chapter XXVII: Civil Wars, Reign Of Theodosius. -- Part III.

Among  the  ecclesiastics,  who  illustrated  the reign of Theodosius,
Gregory  Nazianzen  was  distinguished  by  the talents of an eloquent
preacher;  the reputation of miraculous gifts added weight and dignity
to  the monastic virtues of Martin of Tours; but the palm of episcopal
vigor  and  ability was justly claimed by the intrepid Ambrose. He was
descended  from a noble family of Romans; his father had exercised the
important  office  of  Pr�torian  pr�fect  of Gaul; and the son, after
passing  through  the studies of a liberal education, attained, in the
regular gradation of civil honors, the station of consular of Liguria,
a  province which included the Imperial residence of Milan. At the age
of  thirty-four,  and before he had received the sacrament of baptism,
Ambrose,  to  his own surprise, and to that of the world, was suddenly
transformed  from  a  governor  to  an  archbishop.  Without the least
mixture,  as  it  is  said,  of art or intrigue, the whole body of the
people  unanimously  saluted him with the episcopal title; the concord
and   perseverance   of   their   acclamations   were  ascribed  to  a
pr�ternatural  impulse;  and the reluctant magistrate was compelled to
undertake  a  spiritual  office,  for which he was not prepared by the
habits and occupations of his former life. But the active force of his
genius  soon  qualified  him  to exercise, with zeal and prudence, the
duties  of  his  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction; and while he cheerfully
renounced  the  vain  and splendid trappings of temporal greatness, he
condescended,  for the good of the church, to direct the conscience of
the emperors, and to control the administration of the empire. Gratian
loved  and  revered him as a father; and the elaborate treatise on the
faith  of  the  Trinity  was designed for the instruction of the young
prince.  After  his  tragic  death, at a time when the empress Justina
trembled  for her own safety, and for that of her son Valentinian, the
archbishop of Milan was despatched, on two different embassies, to the
court  of Treves. He exercised, with equal firmness and dexterity, the
powers   of  his  spiritual  and  political  characters;  and  perhaps
contributed,  by his authority and eloquence, to check the ambition of
Maximus,  and  to  protect the peace of Italy. Ambrose had devoted his
life,  and his abilities, to the service of the church. Wealth was the
object of his contempt; he had renounced his private patrimony; and he
sold, without hesitation, the consecrated plate, for the redemption of
captives.  The  clergy  and  people  of  Milan  were attached to their
archbishop;  and he deserved the esteem, without soliciting the favor,
or apprehending the displeasure, of his feeble sovereigns.

The  government of Italy, and of the young emperor, naturally devolved
to  his  mother Justina, a woman of beauty and spirit, but who, in the
midst  of  an  orthodox  people,  had the misfortune of professing the
Arian heresy, which she endeavored to instil into the mind of her son.
Justina  was  persuaded,  that a Roman emperor might claim, in his own
dominions,  the  public  exercise of his religion; and she proposed to
the  archbishop,  as  a  moderate  and  reasonable concession, that he
should  resign  the  use of a single church, either in the city or the
suburbs  of  Milan.  But  the  conduct of Ambrose was governed by very
different  principles. The palaces of the earth might indeed belong to
C�sar; but the churches were the houses of God; and, within the limits
of  his  diocese, he himself, as the lawful successor of the apostles,
was the only minister of God. The privileges of Christianity, temporal
as  well  as  spiritual,  were confined to the true believers; and the
mind  of Ambrose was satisfied, that his own theological opinions were
the  standard  of  truth and orthodoxy. The archbishop, who refused to
hold  any  conference,  or negotiation, with the instruments of Satan,
declared, with modest firmness, his resolution to die a martyr, rather
than  to yield to the impious sacrilege; and Justina, who resented the
refusal  as  an  act of insolence and rebellion, hastily determined to
exert  the  Imperial prerogative of her son. As she desired to perform
her  public  devotions  on the approaching festival of Easter, Ambrose
was  ordered  to appear before the council. He obeyed the summons with
the  respect  of  a faithful subject, but he was followed, without his
consent,  by  an innumerable people they pressed, with impetuous zeal,
against  the  gates  of  the  palace;  and the affrighted ministers of
Valentinian,  instead  of  pronouncing  a  sentence  of  exile  on the
archbishop  of  Milan,  humbly  requested  that he would interpose his
authority,  to  protect  the person of the emperor, and to restore the
tranquility  of  the  capital. But the promises which Ambrose received
and communicated were soon violated by a perfidious court; and, during
six  of  the most solemn days, which Christian piety had set apart for
the  exercise  of  religion,  the  city  was agitated by the irregular
convulsions  of  tumult  and fanaticism. The officers of the household
were directed to prepare, first, the Portian, and afterwards, the new,
Basilica,  for  the immediate reception of the emperor and his mother.
The  splendid  canopy  and hangings of the royal seat were arranged in
the  customary manner; but it was found necessary to defend them. by a
strong   guard,   from   the   insults  of  the  populace.  The  Arian
ecclesiastics,  who  ventured  to show themselves in the streets, were
exposed  to  the  most  imminent  danger  of  their lives; and Ambrose
enjoyed the merit and reputation of rescuing his personal enemies from
the hands of the enraged multitude.

But  while  he  labored  to  restrain  the  effects of their zeal, the
pathetic  vehemence  of his sermons continually inflamed the angry and
seditious temper of the people of Milan. The characters of Eve, of the
wife  of  Job, of Jezebel, of Herodias, were indecently applied to the
mother  of  the  emperor;  and  her  desire to obtain a church for the
Arians  was compared to the most cruel persecutions which Christianity
had  endured  under  the  reign of Paganism. The measures of the court
served only to expose the magnitude of the evil. A fine of two hundred
pounds  of  gold  was  imposed  on the corporate body of merchants and
manufacturers:  an order was signified, in the name of the emperor, to
all  the  officers,  and  inferior servants, of the courts of justice,
that,  during  the  continuance  of  the public disorders, they should
strictly  confine  themselves  to  their  houses; and the ministers of
Valentinian  imprudently  confessed, that the most respectable part of
the  citizens  of Milan was attached to the cause of their archbishop.
He  was  again  solicited  to  restore peace to his country, by timely
compliance  with  the  will of his sovereign. The reply of Ambrose was
couched in the most humble and respectful terms, which might, however,
be  interpreted  as  a serious declaration of civil war. "His life and
fortune  were  in  the hands of the emperor; but he would never betray
the  church  of  Christ,  or  degrade  the  dignity  of  the episcopal
character.  In  such  a  cause  he was prepared to suffer whatever the
malice  of  the  d�mon could inflict; and he only wished to die in the
presence  of  his faithful flock, and at the foot of the altar; he had
not  contributed  to  excite,  but it was in the power of God alone to
appease, the rage of the people: he deprecated the scenes of blood and
confusion  which  were likely to ensue; and it was his fervent prayer,
that  he  might  not survive to behold the ruin of a flourishing city,
and  perhaps  the  desolation  of all Italy." The obstinate bigotry of
Justina  would  have  endangered  the  empire  of her son, if, in this
contest  with  the church and people of Milan, she could have depended
on  the  active obedience of the troops of the palace. A large body of
Goths had marched to occupy the Basilica
,  which  was the object of the dispute: and it might be expected from
the   Arian  principles,  and  barbarous  manners,  of  these  foreign
mercenaries,  that  they  would  not  entertain  any  scruples  in the
execution of the most sanguinary orders. They were encountered, on the
sacred  threshold,  by  the archbishop, who, thundering against them a
sentence of excommunication, asked them, in the tone of a father and a
master,  whether  it  was  to  invade  the house of God, that they had
implored  the  hospitable  protection of the republic. The suspense of
the  Barbarians  allowed  some hours for a more effectual negotiation;
and   the   empress  was  persuaded,  by  the  advice  of  her  wisest
counsellors,  to leave the Catholics in possession of all the churches
of  Milan;  and  to  dissemble,  till  a  more  convenient season, her
intentions  of  revenge. The mother of Valentinian could never forgive
the  triumph  of  Ambrose;  and  the  royal youth uttered a passionate
exclamation,  that  his own servants were ready to betray him into the
hands of an insolent priest.

The  laws of the empire, some of which were inscribed with the name of
Valentinian,  still  condemned  the Arian heresy, and seemed to excuse
the resistance of the Catholics. By the influence of Justina, an edict
of  toleration was promulgated in all the provinces which were subject
to the court of Milan; the free exercise of their religion was granted
to  those who professed the faith of Rimini; and the emperor declared,
that  all  persons  who  should  infringe  this  sacred  and  salutary
constitution,  should  be  capitally  punished,  as the enemies of the
public  peace.  The  character and language of the archbishop of Milan
may justify the suspicion, that his conduct soon afforded a reasonable
ground,  or  at least a specious pretence, to the Arian ministers; who
watched  the opportunity of surprising him in some act of disobedience
to  a law which he strangely represents as a law of blood and tyranny.
A  sentence  of  easy  and  honorable banishment was pronounced, which
enjoined  Ambrose  to  depart  from  Milan  without  delay;  whilst it
permitted  him to choose the place of his exile, and the number of his
companions.  But  the  authority  of the saints, who have preached and
practised  the  maxims of passive loyalty, appeared to Ambrose of less
moment  than  the extreme and pressing danger of the church. He boldly
refused  to  obey;  and  his  refusal  was  supported by the unanimous
consent  of  his  faithful people. They guarded by turns the person of
their  archbishop; the gates of the cathedral and the episcopal palace
were  strongly  secured;  and  the Imperial troops, who had formed the
blockade,  were  unwilling  to  risk  the  attack, of that impregnable
fortress.  The  numerous poor, who had been relieved by the liberality
of  Ambrose,  embraced the fair occasion of signalizing their zeal and
gratitude;  and  as  the  patience  of  the  multitude might have been
exhausted  by  the  length  and  uniformity  of  nocturnal  vigils, he
prudently  introduced  into the church of Milan the useful institution
of  a  loud  and  regular  psalmody.  While he maintained this arduous
contest,  he  was instructed, by a dream, to open the earth in a place
where  the  remains  of two martyrs, Gervasius and Protasius, had been
deposited above three hundred years. Immediately under the pavement of
the  church two perfect skeletons were found, with the heads separated
from  their bodies, and a plentiful effusion of blood. The holy relics
were  presented,  in solemn pomp, to the veneration of the people; and
every  circumstance  of this fortunate discovery was admirably adapted
to  promote  the  designs  of Ambrose. The bones of the martyrs, their
blood,  their  garments, were supposed to contain a healing power; and
the  pr�ternatural  influence  was  communicated  to  the most distant
objects,   without  losing  any  part  of  its  original  virtue.  The
extraordinary  cure  of  a blind man, and the reluctant confessions of
several  d�moniacs,  appeared  to  justify  the  faith and sanctity of
Ambrose;  and  the  truth  of  those  miracles  is attested by Ambrose
himself,  by  his  secretary  Paulinus,  and  by  his  proselyte,  the
celebrated  Augustin, who, at that time, professed the art of rhetoric
in  Milan.  The  reason  of  the  present age may possibly approve the
incredulity of Justina and her Arian court; who derided the theatrical
representations  which  were  exhibited by the contrivance, and at the
expense, of the archbishop. Their effect, however, on the minds of the
people,  was rapid and irresistible; and the feeble sovereign of Italy
found  himself  unable  to  contend  with  the favorite of Heaven. The
powers likewise of the earth interposed in the defence of Ambrose: the
disinterested advice of Theodosius was the genuine result of piety and
friendship;  and  the mask of religious zeal concealed the hostile and
ambitious designs of the tyrant of Gaul.

The  reign  of Maximus might have ended in peace and prosperity, could
he   have  contented  himself  with  the  possession  of  three  ample
countries, which now constitute the three most flourishing kingdoms of
modern Europe. But the aspiring usurper, whose sordid ambition was not
dignified  by  the  love  of  glory and of arms, considered his actual
forces  as  the  instruments  only  of  his  future greatness, and his
success  was  the immediate cause of his destruction. The wealth which
he  extorted from the oppressed provinces of Gaul, Spain, and Britain,
was   employed  in  levying  and  maintaining  a  formidable  army  of
Barbarians, collected, for the most part, from the fiercest nations of
Germany.  The  conquest  of  Italy  was  the  object  of his hopes and
preparations: and he secretly meditated the ruin of an innocent youth,
whose  government  was abhorred and despised by his Catholic subjects.
But as Maximus wished to occupy, without resistance, the passes of the
Alps,  he  received,  with  perfidious  smiles, Domninus of Syria, the
ambassador  of  Valentinian,  and  pressed  him to accept the aid of a
considerable  body  of troops, for the service of a Pannonian war. The
penetration of Ambrose had discovered the snares of an enemy under the
professions  of  friendship; but the Syrian Domninus was corrupted, or
deceived, by the liberal favor of the court of Treves; and the council
of  Milan  obstinately  rejected the suspicion of danger, with a blind
confidence,  which  was  the  effect, not of courage, but of fear. The
march  of  the auxiliaries was guided by the ambassador; and they were
admitted,  without  distrust, into the fortresses of the Alps. But the
crafty  tyrant followed, with hasty and silent footsteps, in the rear;
and, as he diligently intercepted all intelligence of his motions, the
gleam  of  armor, and the dust excited by the troops of cavalry, first
announced the hostile approach of a stranger to the gates of Milan. In
this extremity, Justina and her son might accuse their own imprudence,
and  the  perfidious arts of Maximus; but they wanted time, and force,
and  resolution, to stand against the Gauls and Germans, either in the
field, or within the walls of a large and disaffected city. Flight was
their  only  hope,  Aquileia  their  only  refuge;  and as Maximus now
displayed  his  genuine character, the brother of Gratian might expect
the  same  fate  from  the hands of the same assassin. Maximus entered
Milan  in  triumph; and if the wise archbishop refused a dangerous and
criminal  connection  with the usurper, he might indirectly contribute
to  the success of his arms, by inculcating, from the pulpit, the duty
of  resignation,  rather  than  that  of  resistance.  The unfortunate
Justina reached Aquileia in safety; but she distrusted the strength of
the fortifications: she dreaded the event of a siege; and she resolved
to  implore  the  protection  of the great Theodosius, whose power and
virtue  were celebrated in all the countries of the West. A vessel was
secretly provided to transport the Imperial family; they embarked with
precipitation  in  one  of  the obscure harbors of Venetia, or Istria;
traversed the whole extent of the Adriatic and Ionian Seas; turned the
extreme  promontory of Peloponnesus; and, after a long, but successful
navigation,  reposed  themselves  in the port of Thessalonica. All the
subjects  of  Valentinian  deserted the cause of a prince, who, by his
abdication,  had absolved them from the duty of allegiance; and if the
little  city of �mona, on the verge of Italy, had not presumed to stop
the  career  of  his  inglorious victory, Maximus would have obtained,
without a struggle, the sole possession of the Western empire.

Instead   of   inviting  his  royal  guests  to  take  the  palace  of
Constantinople,  Theodosius  had  some  unknown  reasons  to fix their
residence  at  Thessalonica;  but  these  reasons did not proceed from
contempt  or  indifference,  as he speedily made a visit to that city,
accompanied  by  the  greatest part of his court and senate. After the
first tender expressions of friendship and sympathy, the pious emperor
of  the  East  gently admonished Justina, that the guilt of heresy was
sometimes punished in this world, as well as in the next; and that the
public  profession  of  the Nicene faith would be the most efficacious
step  to promote the restoration of her son, by the satisfaction which
it  must  occasion both on earth and in heaven. The momentous question
of  peace  or  war was referred, by Theodosius, to the deliberation of
his  council;  and the arguments which might be alleged on the side of
honor  and  justice,  had  acquired,  since  the  death  of Gratian, a
considerable  degree  of  additional  weight.  The  persecution of the
Imperial family, to which Theodosius himself had been indebted for his
fortune,  was  now aggravated by recent and repeated injuries. Neither
oaths  nor  treaties could restrain the boundless ambition of Maximus;
and the delay of vigorous and decisive measures, instead of prolonging
the  blessings of peace, would expose the Eastern empire to the danger
of  a hostile invasion. The Barbarians, who had passed the Danube, had
lately  assumed  the  character  of  soldiers  and subjects, but their
native  fierceness was yet untamed: and the operations of a war, which
would  exercise their valor, and diminish their numbers, might tend to
relieve  the provinces from an intolerable oppression. Notwithstanding
these specious and solid reasons, which were approved by a majority of
the  council,  Theodosius  still  hesitated whether he should draw the
sword  in  a  contest  which  could  no  longer  admit  any  terms  of
reconciliation; and his magnanimous character was not disgraced by the
apprehensions which he felt for the safety of his infant sons, and the
welfare  of  his  exhausted  people.  In this moment of anxious doubt,
while  the  fate  of  the  Roman world depended on the resolution of a
single  man,  the charms of the princess Galla most powerfully pleaded
the  cause  of  her  brother  Valentinian. The heart of Theodosius was
softened  by  the  tears  of  beauty;  his  affections were insensibly
engaged  by  the  graces  of  youth  and innocence: the art of Justina
managed  and  directed  the impulse of passion; and the celebration of
the  royal nuptials was the assurance and signal of the civil war. The
unfeeling critics, who consider every amorous weakness as an indelible
stain  on the memory of a great and orthodox emperor, are inclined, on
this  occasion,  to  dispute  the suspicious evidence of the historian
Zosimus.  For  my own part, I shall frankly confess, that I am willing
to find, or even to seek, in the revolutions of the world, some traces
of  the  mild  and  tender sentiments of domestic life; and amidst the
crowd  of  fierce  and  ambitious  conquerors, I can distinguish, with
peculiar  complacency,  a  gentle hero, who may be supposed to receive
his armor from the hands of love. The alliance of the Persian king was
secured  by  the  faith  of  treaties;  the  martial  Barbarians  were
persuaded  to  follow the standard, or to respect the frontiers, of an
active  and liberal monarch; and the dominions of Theodosius, from the
Euphrates to the Adriatic, resounded with the preparations of war both
by  land  and  sea.  The skilful disposition of the forces of the East
seemed  to  multiply  their  numbers,  and distracted the attention of
Maximus.  He  had  reason to fear, that a chosen body of troops, under
the command of the intrepid Arbogastes, would direct their march along
the  banks  of  the  Danube,  and boldly penetrate through the Rh�tian
provinces  into  the  centre of Gaul. A powerful fleet was equipped in
the  harbors  of  Greece and Epirus, with an apparent design, that, as
soon  as  the  passage had been opened by a naval victory, Valentinian
and  his mother should land in Italy, proceed, without delay, to Rome,
and  occupy  the  majestic  seat  of  religion and empire. In the mean
while,  Theodosius  himself  advanced  at  the  head  of  a  brave and
disciplined  army,  to  encounter  his  unworthy rival, who, after the
siege  of �mona, * had fixed his camp in the neighborhood of Siscia, a
city  of Pannonia, strongly fortified by the broad and rapid stream of
the Save.

Chapter XXVII: Civil Wars, Reign Of Theodosius. -- Part IV.

The veterans, who still remembered the long resistance, and successive
resources,  of the tyrant Magnentius, might prepare themselves for the
labors  of three bloody campaigns. But the contest with his successor,
who,  like him, had usurped the throne of the West, was easily decided
in  the term of two months, and within the space of two hundred miles.
The  superior genius of the emperor of the East might prevail over the
feeble   Maximus,  who,  in  this  important  crisis,  showed  himself
destitute of military skill, or personal courage; but the abilities of
Theodosius  were  seconded  by  the  advantage which he possessed of a
numerous  and  active  cavalry.  The Huns, the Alani, and, after their
example,  the Goths themselves, were formed into squadrons of archers;
who  fought on horseback, and confounded the steady valor of the Gauls
and  Germans,  by the rapid motions of a Tartar war. After the fatigue
of  a  long  march,  in the heat of summer, they spurred their foaming
horses  into the waters of the Save, swam the river in the presence of
the enemy, and instantly charged and routed the troops who guarded the
high  ground  on the opposite side. Marcellinus, the tyrant's brother,
advanced   to  support  them  with  the  select  cohorts,  which  were
considered as the hope and strength of the army. The action, which had
been interrupted by the approach of night, was renewed in the morning;
and,  after  a  sharp  conflict,  the surviving remnant of the bravest
soldiers  of  Maximus  threw  down  their  arms  at  the  feet  of the
conqueror.   Without  suspending  his  march,  to  receive  the  loyal
acclamations  of the citizens of �mona, Theodosius pressed forwards to
terminate  the  war  by  the death or captivity of his rival, who fled
before  him  with the diligence of fear. From the summit of the Julian
Alps, he descended with such incredible speed into the plain of Italy,
that he reached Aquileia on the evening of the first day; and Maximus,
who  found himself encompassed on all sides, had scarcely time to shut
the  gates of the city. But the gates could not long resist the effort
of  a  victorious  enemy;  and  the  despair,  the  disaffection,  the
indifference  of the soldiers and people, hastened the downfall of the
wretched  Maximus.  He was dragged from his throne, rudely stripped of
the Imperial ornaments, the robe, the diadem, and the purple slippers;
and  conducted,  like  a  malefactor,  to  the  camp  and  presence of
Theodosius,  at  a place about three miles from Aquileia. The behavior
of  the  emperor was not intended to insult, and he showed disposition
to  pity  and  forgive, the tyrant of the West, who had never been his
personal  enemy,  and  was  now become the object of his contempt. Our
sympathy  is  the most forcibly excited by the misfortunes to which we
are exposed; and the spectacle of a proud competitor, now prostrate at
his feet, could not fail of producing very serious and solemn thoughts
in  the  mind  of  the  victorious  emperor. But the feeble emotion of
involuntary pity was checked by his regard for public justice, and the
memory  of  Gratian;  and he abandoned the victim to the pious zeal of
the soldiers, who drew him out of the Imperial presence, and instantly
separated  his  head from his body. The intelligence of his defeat and
death  was  received  with  sincere  or  well-dissembled  joy: his son
Victor,  on  whom  he had conferred the title of Augustus, died by the
order,  perhaps  by  the  hand,  of  the  bold Arbogastes; and all the
military  plans  of Theodosius were successfully executed. When he had
thus terminated the civil war, with less difficulty and bloodshed than
he  might  naturally  expect,  he  employed  the  winter months of his
residence  at  Milan, to restore the state of the afflicted provinces;
and  early in the spring he made, after the example of Constantine and
Constantius, his triumphal entry into the ancient capital of the Roman
empire.

The  orator,  who  may  be  silent  without danger, may praise without
difficulty,  and  without reluctance; and posterity will confess, that
the character of Theodosius might furnish the subject of a sincere and
ample  panegyric. The wisdom of his laws, and the success of his arms,
rendered  his  administration  respectable  in  the  eyes  both of his
subjects  and  of  his  enemies. He loved and practised the virtues of
domestic  life,  which  seldom  hold their residence in the palaces of
kings.  Theodosius  was  chaste  and  temperate;  he  enjoyed, without
excess,  the sensual and social pleasures of the table; and the warmth
of  his amorous passions was never diverted from their lawful objects.
The  proud  titles  of  Imperial  greatness were adorned by the tender
names  of  a  faithful  husband,  an  indulgent  father; his uncle was
raised,  by  his  affectionate esteem, to the rank of a second parent:
Theodosius  embraced,  as  his  own,  the  children of his brother and
sister;  and  the  expressions of his regard were extended to the most
distant  and  obscure  branches  of his numerous kindred. His familiar
friends  were  judiciously  selected from among those persons, who, in
the  equal  intercourse  of private life, had appeared before his eyes
without  a  mask;  the  consciousness  of  personal and superior merit
enabled  him  to despise the accidental distinction of the purple; and
he  proved  by  his  conduct,  that he had forgotten all the injuries,
while he most gratefully remembered all the favors and services, which
he had received before he ascended the throne of the Roman empire. The
serious or lively tone of his conversation was adapted to the age, the
rank,  or  the  character  of  his subjects, whom he admitted into his
society;  and the affability of his manners displayed the image of his
mind.  Theodosius  respected  the simplicity of the good and virtuous:
every  art,  every talent, of a useful, or even of an innocent nature,
was  rewarded  by  his judicious liberality; and, except the heretics,
whom he persecuted with implacable hatred, the diffusive circle of his
benevolence  was  circumscribed  only by the limits of the human race.
The  government of a mighty empire may assuredly suffice to occupy the
time, and the abilities, of a mortal: yet the diligent prince, without
aspiring  to  the  unsuitable  reputation of profound learning, always
reserved  some moments of his leisure for the instructive amusement of
reading.  History,  which  enlarged  his  experience, was his favorite
study. The annals of Rome, in the long period of eleven hundred years,
presented  him  with a various and splendid picture of human life: and
it  has been particularly observed, that whenever he perused the cruel
acts  of  Cinna,  of  Marius,  or  of  Sylla,  he warmly expressed his
generous  detestation  of  those  enemies of humanity and freedom. His
disinterested  opinion of past events was usefully applied as the rule
of   his  own  actions;  and  Theodosius  has  deserved  the  singular
commendation,  that  his  virtues  always  seemed  to  expand with his
fortune:  the season of his prosperity was that of his moderation; and
his  clemency  appeared  the  most  conspicuous  after  the danger and
success  of  a  civil  war.  The Moorish guards of the tyrant had been
massacred  in the first heat of the victory, and a small number of the
most  obnoxious  criminals suffered the punishment of the law. But the
emperor  showed  himself  much  more attentive to relieve the innocent
than  to  chastise the guilty. The oppressed subjects of the West, who
would  have deemed themselves happy in the restoration of their lands,
were  astonished to receive a sum of money equivalent to their losses;
and  the  liberality  of  the conqueror supported the aged mother, and
educated   the   orphan   daughters,  of  Maximus.  A  character  thus
accomplished  might  almost  excuse the extravagant supposition of the
orator  Pacatus;  that,  if  the  elder  Brutus  could be permitted to
revisit  the  earth, the stern republican would abjure, at the feet of
Theodosius,  his hatred of kings; and ingenuously confess, that such a
monarch was the most faithful guardian of the happiness and dignity of
the Roman people.

Yet  the  piercing  eye  of  the  founder  of  the  republic must have
discerned  two  essential  imperfections,  which  might, perhaps, have
abated  his  recent love of despotism. The virtuous mind of Theodosius
was  often  relaxed  by  indolence,  and  it was sometimes inflamed by
passion. In the pursuit of an important object, his active courage was
capable of the most vigorous exertions; but, as soon as the design was
accomplished,  or  the  danger  was  surmounted,  the  hero  sunk into
inglorious  repose;  and,  forgetful  that the time of a prince is the
property  of  his  people,  resigned  himself  to the enjoyment of the
innocent,  but  trifling,  pleasures of a luxurious court. The natural
disposition  of  Theodosius  was hasty and choleric; and, in a station
where none could resist, and few would dissuade, the fatal consequence
of  his  resentment,  the  humane  monarch  was  justly alarmed by the
consciousness  of  his infirmity and of his power. It was the constant
study of his life to suppress, or regulate, the intemperate sallies of
passion  and  the  success  of  his  efforts enhanced the merit of his
clemency. But the painful virtue which claims the merit of victory, is
exposed  to the danger of defeat; and the reign of a wise and merciful
prince  was polluted by an act of cruelty which would stain the annals
of Nero or Domitian. Within the space of three years, the inconsistent
historian  of  Theodosius  must  relate  the  generous  pardon  of the
citizens  of  Antioch,  and  the  inhuman  massacre  of  the people of
Thessalonica.

The  lively  impatience  of  the  inhabitants  of  Antioch  was  never
satisfied  with their own situation, or with the character and conduct
of  their  successive  sovereigns.  The  Arian  subjects of Theodosius
deplored  the  loss  of  their  churches;  and  as three rival bishops
disputed  the  throne  of  Antioch,  the  sentence which decided their
pretensions excited the murmurs of the two unsuccessful congregations.
The  exigencies  of  the  Gothic  war, and the inevitable expense that
accompanied  the  conclusion of the peace, had constrained the emperor
to  aggravate  the weight of the public impositions; and the provinces
of  Asia,  as they had not been involved in the distress were the less
inclined to contribute to the relief, of Europe. The auspicious period
now  approached  of  the  tenth  year  of  his  reign; a festival more
grateful to the soldiers, who received a liberal donative, than to the
subjects, whose voluntary offerings had been long since converted into
an  extraordinary  and  oppressive  burden.  The  edicts  of  taxation
interrupted the repose, and pleasures, of Antioch; and the tribunal of
the  magistrate  was  besieged by a suppliant crowd; who, in pathetic,
but,  at first, in respectful language, solicited the redress of their
grievances. They were gradually incensed by the pride of their haughty
rulers,  who  treated their complaints as a criminal resistance; their
satirical  wit  degenerated into sharp and angry invectives; and, from
the  subordinate  powers  of  government, the invectives of the people
insensibly rose to attack the sacred character of the emperor himself.
Their  fury, provoked by a feeble opposition, discharged itself on the
images  of  the  Imperial  family,  which  were erected, as objects of
public  veneration,  in  the  most conspicuous places of the city. The
statues  of  Theodosius,  of his father, of his wife Flaccilla, of his
two  sons,  Arcadius  and  Honorius,  were insolently thrown down from
their  pedestals,  broken  in pieces, or dragged with contempt through
the   streets;   and   the  indignities  which  were  offered  to  the
representations of Imperial majesty, sufficiently declared the impious
and  treasonable  wishes  of  the  populace.  The  tumult  was  almost
immediately  suppressed  by  the  arrival  of  a  body of archers: and
Antioch  had  leisure to reflect on the nature and consequences of her
crime.  According  to  the  duty  of  his  office, the governor of the
province  despatched  a  faithful  narrative of the whole transaction:
while  the trembling citizens intrusted the confession of their crime,
and  the assurances of their repentance, to the zeal of Flavian, their
bishop,  and to the eloquence of the senator Hilarius, the friend, and
most  probably  the  disciple,  of  Libanius;  whose  genius,  on this
melancholy  occasion,  was  not  useless  to  his country. But the two
capitals,  Antioch  and Constantinople, were separated by the distance
of  eight  hundred  miles;  and,  notwithstanding the diligence of the
Imperial  posts,  the  guilty city was severely punished by a long and
dreadful  interval  of  suspense.  Every  rumor agitated the hopes and
fears  of  the  Antiochians,  and  they  heard with terror, that their
sovereign, exasperated by the insult which had been offered to his own
statues,  and  more  especially,  to  those  of  his beloved wife, had
resolved to level with the ground the offending city; and to massacre,
without  distinction  of age or sex, the criminal inhabitants; many of
whom were actually driven, by their apprehensions, to seek a refuge in
the   mountains   of  Syria,  and  the  adjacent  desert.  At  length,
twenty-four  days  after  the  sedition,  the  general  Hellebicus and
C�sarius, master of the offices, declared the will of the emperor, and
the sentence of Antioch. That proud capital was degraded from the rank
of  a city; and the metropolis of the East, stripped of its lands, its
privileges,  and  its  revenues,  was subjected, under the humiliating
denomination of a village, to the jurisdiction of Laodicea. The baths,
the  Circus,  and  the  theatres  were shut: and, that every source of
plenty  and  pleasure  might  at  the  same  time  be intercepted, the
distribution  of  corn  was  abolished,  by the severe instructions of
Theodosius. His commissioners then proceeded to inquire into the guilt
of individuals; of those who had perpetrated, and of those who had not
prevented,  the  destruction  of  the  sacred statues. The tribunal of
Hellebicus  and C�sarius, encompassed with armed soldiers, was erected
in  the  midst  of  the  Forum.  The noblest, and most wealthy, of the
citizens  of  Antioch  appeared before them in chains; the examination
was  assisted by the use of torture, and their sentence was pronounced
or  suspended,  according  to  the  judgment  of  these  extraordinary
magistrates.  The  houses of the criminals were exposed to sale, their
wives  and  children were suddenly reduced, from affluence and luxury,
to  the  most  abject distress; and a bloody execution was expected to
conclude  the  horrors  of the day, which the preacher of Antioch, the
eloquent Chrysostom, has represented as a lively image of the last and
universal  judgment  of  the  world.  But  the ministers of Theodosius
performed,  with  reluctance,  the  cruel task which had been assigned
them;  they  dropped  a gentle tear over the calamities of the people;
and  they listened with reverence to the pressing solicitations of the
monks  and  hermits,  who  descended  in  swarms  from  the mountains.
Hellebicus  and  C�sarius  were  persuaded to suspend the execution of
their  sentence;  and  it  was agreed that the former should remain at
Antioch,  while  the  latter  returned,  with  all  possible speed, to
Constantinople;  and  presumed  once  more  to consult the will of his
sovereign.  The  resentment  of  Theodosius  had already subsided; the
deputies of the people, both the bishop and the orator, had obtained a
favorable  audience;  and  the  reproaches  of  the  emperor  were the
complaints  of  injured  friendship,  rather than the stern menaces of
pride and power. A free and general pardon was granted to the city and
citizens  of Antioch; the prison doors were thrown open; the senators,
who despaired of their lives, recovered the possession of their houses
and estates; and the capital of the East was restored to the enjoyment
of her ancient dignity and splendor. Theodosius condescended to praise
the  senate of Constantinople, who had generously interceded for their
distressed  brethren:  he  rewarded the eloquence of Hilarius with the
government  of Palestine; and dismissed the bishop of Antioch with the
warmest  expressions  of  his  respect  and  gratitude. A thousand new

statues  arose  to  the  clemency  of  Theodosius; the applause of his
subjects  was  ratified  by  the approbation of his own heart; and the
emperor  confessed,  that,  if  the  exercise  of  justice is the most
important  duty,  the  indulgence  of  mercy  is  the  most  exquisite
pleasure, of a sovereign.

The sedition of Thessalonica is ascribed to a more shameful cause, and
was  productive  of  much more dreadful consequences. That great city,
the  metropolis of all the Illyrian provinces, had been protected from
the  dangers of the Gothic war by strong fortifications and a numerous
garrison.  Botheric,  the  general  of those troops, and, as it should
seem from his name, a Barbarian, had among his slaves a beautiful boy,
who  excited  the  impure  desires  of  one  of the charioteers of the
Circus.  The  insolent  and brutal lover was thrown into prison by the
order  of Botheric; and he sternly rejected the importunate clamors of
the  multitude,  who,  on  the  day  of the public games, lamented the
absence of their favorite; and considered the skill of a charioteer as
an  object  of  more importance than his virtue. The resentment of the
people  was imbittered by some previous disputes; and, as the strength
of  the  garrison  had  been drawn away for the service of the Italian
war,  the  feeble  remnant,  whose  numbers were reduced by desertion,
could  not  save  the  unhappy  general  from  their  licentious fury.
Botheric,  and  several  of  his  principal  officers,  were inhumanly
murdered; their mangled bodies were dragged about the streets; and the
emperor,  who then resided at Milan, was surprised by the intelligence
of the audacious and wanton cruelty of the people of Thessalonica. The
sentence  of  a  dispassionate  judge  would  have  inflicted a severe
punishment  on  the  authors  of  the crime; and the merit of Botheric
might  contribute  to  exasperate  the  grief  and  indignation of his
master.  The  fiery and choleric temper of Theodosius was impatient of
the  dilatory  forms  of  a judicial inquiry; and he hastily resolved,
that  the  blood  of his lieutenant should be expiated by the blood of
the  guilty people. Yet his mind still fluctuated between the counsels
of  clemency  and  of  revenge;  the  zeal  of  the bishops had almost
extorted  from  the reluctant emperor the promise of a general pardon;
his  passion  was  again inflamed by the flattering suggestions of his
minister  Rufinus; and, after Theodosius had despatched the messengers
of death, he attempted, when it was too late, to prevent the execution
of his orders. The punishment of a Roman city was blindly committed to
the   undistinguishing  sword  of  the  Barbarians;  and  the  hostile
preparations  were  concerted with the dark and perfidious artifice of
an  illegal  conspiracy. The people of Thessalonica were treacherously
invited,  in  the name of their sovereign, to the games of the Circus;
and  such was their insatiate avidity for those amusements, that every
consideration  of  fear, or suspicion, was disregarded by the numerous
spectators.  As  soon  as the assembly was complete, the soldiers, who
had secretly been posted round the Circus, received the signal, not of
the  races,  but  of  a  general  massacre.  The  promiscuous  carnage
continued three hours, without discrimination of strangers or natives,
of age or sex, of innocence or guilt; the most moderate accounts state
the  number of the slain at seven thousand; and it is affirmed by some
writers that more than fifteen thousand victims were sacrificed to the
names  of Botheric. A foreign merchant, who had probably no concern in
his  murder,  offered  his own life, and all his wealth, to supply the
place  of  one  of  his two sons; but, while the father hesitated with
equal  tenderness,  while  he was doubtful to choose, and unwilling to
condemn,  the  soldiers  determined  his  suspense,  by plunging their
daggers at the same moment into the breasts of the defenceless youths.
The  apology  of  the assassins, that they were obliged to produce the
prescribed  number of heads, serves only to increase, by an appearance
of  order  and design, the horrors of the massacre, which was executed
by  the commands of Theodosius. The guilt of the emperor is aggravated
by  his  long and frequent residence at Thessalonica. The situation of
the  unfortunate  city,  the  aspect of the streets and buildings, the
dress  and  faces of the inhabitants, were familiar, and even present,
to  his imagination; and Theodosius possessed a quick and lively sense
of the existence of the people whom he destroyed.

The  respectful attachment of the emperor for the orthodox clergy, had
disposed  him  to love and admire the character of Ambrose; who united
all  the episcopal virtues in the most eminent degree. The friends and
ministers  of  Theodosius imitated the example of their sovereign; and
he  observed, with more surprise than displeasure, that all his secret
counsels  were  immediately  communicated to the archbishop; who acted
from  the  laudable persuasion, that every measure of civil government
may  have  some  connection with the glory of God, and the interest of
the  true religion. The monks and populace of Callinicum, * an obscure
town  on  the frontier of Persia, excited by their own fanaticism, and
by  that  of their bishop, had tumultuously burnt a conventicle of the
Valentinians,  and  a synagogue of the Jews. The seditious prelate was
condemned,  by  the  magistrate of the province, either to rebuild the
synagogue,  or  to  repay  the  damage; and this moderate sentence was
confirmed  by  the emperor. But it was not confirmed by the archbishop
of  Milan.  He  dictated  an  epistle  of  censure  and reproach, more
suitable,   perhaps,   if   the  emperor  had  received  the  mark  of
circumcision,   and  renounced  the  faith  of  his  baptism.  Ambrose
considers  the  toleration  of  the  Jewish, as the persecution of the
Christian,  religion;  boldly declares that he himself, and every true
believer,  would  eagerly  dispute  with  the bishop of Callinicum the
merit  of  the  deed,  and the crown of martyrdom; and laments, in the
most pathetic terms, that the execution of the sentence would be fatal
to  the  fame  and salvation of Theodosius. As this private admonition
did  not produce an immediate effect, the archbishop, from his pulpit,
publicly  addressed the emperor on his throne; nor would he consent to
offer  the oblation of the altar, till he had obtained from Theodosius
a  solemn  and positive declaration, which secured the impunity of the
bishop  and  monks  of  Callinicum.  The recantation of Theodosius was
sincere; and, during the term of his residence at Milan, his affection
for  Ambrose  was  continually  increased  by  the habits of pious and
familiar conversation.

When  Ambrose  was  informed of the massacre of Thessalonica, his mind
was  filled  with  horror  and anguish. He retired into the country to
indulge his grief, and to avoid the presence of Theodosius. But as the
archbishop  was  satisfied  that  a timid silence would render him the
accomplice  of  his  guilt,  he  represented, in a private letter, the
enormity  of  the  crime;  which could only be effaced by the tears of
penitence.  The  episcopal  vigor of Ambrose was tempered by prudence;
and   he  contented  himself  with  signifying  an  indirect  sort  of
excommunication, by the assurance, that he had been warned in a vision
not  to  offer  the  oblation  in  the  name,  or  in the presence, of
Theodosius;  and  by  the advice, that he would confine himself to the
use  of  prayer, without presuming to approach the altar of Christ, or
to  receive  the  holy  eucharist  with  those  hands  that were still
polluted  with the blood of an innocent people. The emperor was deeply
affected  by his own reproaches, and by those of his spiritual father;
and after he had bewailed the mischievous and irreparable consequences
of  his  rash fury, he proceeded, in the accustomed manner, to perform
his  devotions  in  the  great  church of Milan. He was stopped in the
porch  by  the  archbishop;  who,  in  the  tone  and  language  of an
ambassador   of  Heaven,  declared  to  his  sovereign,  that  private
contrition  was  not  sufficient  to  atone  for a public fault, or to
appease   the   justice  of  the  offended  Deity.  Theodosius  humbly
represented,  that  if he had contracted the guilt of homicide, David,
the  man  after  God's own heart, had been guilty, not only of murder,
but  of  adultery. "You have imitated David in his crime, imitate then
his  repentance," was the reply of the undaunted Ambrose. The rigorous
conditions  of  peace and pardon were accepted; and the public penance
of  the  emperor  Theodosius  has  been  recorded  as  one of the most
honorable events in the annals of the church. According to the mildest
rules  of  ecclesiastical  discipline,  which  were established in the
fourth century, the crime of homicide was expiated by the penitence of
twenty  years:  and as it was impossible, in the period of human life,
to  purge  the  accumulated guilt of the massacre of Thessalonica, the
murderer  should  have  been excluded from the holy communion till the
hour  of  his  death.  But  the  archbishop,  consulting the maxims of
religious   policy,  granted  some  indulgence  to  the  rank  of  his
illustrious penitent, who humbled in the dust the pride of the diadem;
and  the  public  edification might be admitted as a weighty reason to
abridge  the  duration  of his punishment. It was sufficient, that the
emperor  of  the  Romans,  stripped  of the ensigns of royalty, should
appear  in a mournful and suppliant posture; and that, in the midst of
the  church  of Milan, he should humbly solicit, with sighs and tears,
the  pardon  of his sins. In this spiritual cure, Ambrose employed the
various methods of mildness and severity. After a delay of about eight
months,  Theodosius was restored to the communion of the faithful; and
the  edict which interposes a salutary interval of thirty days between
the  sentence  and the execution, may be accepted as the worthy fruits
of  his  repentance.  Posterity has applauded the virtuous firmness of
the archbishop; and the example of Theodosius may prove the beneficial
influence  of  those  principles, which could force a monarch, exalted
above  the  apprehension of human punishment, to respect the laws, and
ministers, of an invisible Judge. "The prince," says Montesquieu, "who
is  actuated  by the hopes and fears of religion, may be compared to a
lion,  docile  only  to  the  voice, and tractable to the hand, of his
keeper."  The motions of the royal animal will therefore depend on the
inclination,  and interest, of the man who has acquired such dangerous
authority  over  him;  and  the  priest,  who  holds  in his hands the
conscience  of  a  king,  may  inflame,  or  moderate,  his sanguinary
passions.  The  cause  of humanity, and that of persecution, have been
asserted,  by  the  same  Ambrose,  with  equal energy, and with equal
success.

Chapter XXVII: Civil Wars, Reign Of Theodosius. -- Part V.

After  the defeat and death of the tyrant of Gaul, the Roman world was
in the possession of Theodosius. He derived from the choice of Gratian
his  honorable title to the provinces of the East: he had acquired the
West  by  the right of conquest; and the three years which he spent in
Italy were usefully employed to restore the authority of the laws, and
to  correct  the  abuses  which  had prevailed with impunity under the
usurpation  of  Maximus,  and the minority of Valentinian. The name of
Valentinian  was regularly inserted in the public acts: but the tender
age,  and  doubtful  faith, of the son of Justina, appeared to require
the  prudent  care  of an orthodox guardian; and his specious ambition
might  have  excluded  the  unfortunate youth, without a struggle, and
almost  without  a  murmur, from the administration, and even from the
inheritance,  of  the  empire.  If  Theodosius had consulted the rigid
maxims  of  interest and policy, his conduct would have been justified
by  his  friends; but the generosity of his behavior on this memorable
occasion  has extorted the applause of his most inveterate enemies. He
seated  Valentinian  on  the throne of Milan; and, without stipulating
any  present  or  future  advantages,  restored  him  to  the absolute
dominion  of  all  the provinces, from which he had been driven by the
arms of Maximus. To the restitution of his ample patrimony, Theodosius
added  the  free  and  generous gift of the countries beyond the Alps,
which his successful valor had recovered from the assassin of Gratian.
Satisfied with the glory which he had acquired, by revenging the death
of  his  benefactor, and delivering the West from the yoke of tyranny,
the  emperor  returned  from  Milan  to  Constantinople;  and,  in the
peaceful  possession  of the East, insensibly relapsed into his former
habits  of  luxury and indolence. Theodosius discharged his obligation
to  the brother, he indulged his conjugal tenderness to the sister, of
Valentinian;  and posterity, which admires the pure and singular glory
of his elevation, must applaud his unrivalled generosity in the use of
victory.

The  empress  Justina  did  not long survive her return to Italy; and,
though  she  beheld  the triumph of Theodosius, she was not allowed to
influence  the government of her son. The pernicious attachment to the
Arian  sect,  which  Valentinian  had  imbibed  from  her  example and
instructions,  was  soon  erased  by  the  lessons  of a more orthodox
education.  His  growing  zeal  for  the faith of Nice, and his filial
reverence  for  the  character  and authority of Ambrose, disposed the
Catholics  to  entertain  the most favorable opinion of the virtues of
the  young  emperor  of  the  West.  They  applauded  his chastity and
temperance, his contempt of pleasure, his application to business, and
his  tender  affection  for his two sisters; which could not, however,
seduce  his  impartial  equity to pronounce an unjust sentence against
the  meanest  of  his  subjects. But this amiable youth, before he had
accomplished  the twentieth year of his age, was oppressed by domestic
treason;  and  the empire was again involved in the horrors of a civil
war.  Arbogastes,  a gallant soldier of the nation of the Franks, held
the  second rank in the service of Gratian. On the death of his master
he  joined  the  standard of Theodosius; contributed, by his valor and
military conduct, to the destruction of the tyrant; and was appointed,
after  the  victory,  master-general  of  the armies of Gaul. His real
merit,  and  apparent  fidelity, had gained the confidence both of the
prince  and  people; his boundless liberality corrupted the allegiance
of  the  troops; and, whilst he was universally esteemed as the pillar
of  the  state,  the bold and crafty Barbarian was secretly determined
either  to  rule,  or  to  ruin, the empire of the West. The important
commands  of the army were distributed among the Franks; the creatures
of Arbogastes were promoted to all the honors and offices of the civil
government;  the  progress  of  the  conspiracy removed every faithful
servant  from  the  presence  of Valentinian; and the emperor, without
power  and  without  intelligence, insensibly sunk into the precarious
and  dependent  condition  of  a  captive.  The  indignation  which he
expressed,  though  it  might  arise  only from the rash and impatient
temper  of youth, may be candidly ascribed to the generous spirit of a
prince,  who  felt  that  he  was  not  unworthy to reign. He secretly
invited the archbishop of Milan to undertake the office of a mediator;
as  the  pledge  of  his sincerity, and the guardian of his safety. He
contrived  to  apprise  the  emperor  of  the  East  of  his  helpless
situation,  and  he  declared,  that, unless Theodosius could speedily
march to his assistance, he must attempt to escape from the palace, or
rather  prison,  of Vienna in Gaul, where he had imprudently fixed his
residence in the midst of the hostile faction. But the hopes of relief
were  distant,  and  doubtful:  and,  as  every day furnished some new
provocation,  the  emperor,  without  strength or counsel, too hastily
resolved  to  risk  an immediate contest with his powerful general. He
received  Arbogastes  on the throne; and, as the count approached with
some  appearance of respect, delivered to him a paper, which dismissed
him from all his employments. "My authority," replied Arbogastes, with
insulting  coolness,  "does  not depend on the smile or the frown of a
monarch;"  and  he  contemptuously  threw the paper on the ground. The
indignant monarch snatched at the sword of one of the guards, which he
struggled  to  draw  from  its  scabbard;  and it was not without some
degree  of violence that he was prevented from using the deadly weapon
against  his  enemy,  or  against  himself.  A  few  days  after  this
extraordinary  quarrel, in which he had exposed his resentment and his
weakness,  the  unfortunate  Valentinian  was  found  strangled in his
apartment; and some pains were employed to disguise the manifest guilt
of  Arbogastes, and to persuade the world, that the death of the young
emperor had been the voluntary effect of his own despair. His body was
conducted  with  decent  pomp  to  the  sepulchre  of  Milan;  and the
archbishop pronounced a funeral oration to commemorate his virtues and
his  misfortunes. On this occasion the humanity of Ambrose tempted him
to  make  a  singular breach in his theological system; and to comfort
the  weeping sisters of Valentinian, by the firm assurance, that their
pious  brother,  though  he had not received the sacrament of baptism,
was  introduced,  without  difficulty,  into  the  mansions of eternal
bliss.

The  prudence  of Arbogastes had prepared the success of his ambitious
designs:  and  the  provincials,  in  whose  breast every sentiment of
patriotism   or   loyalty   was   extinguished,  expected,  with  tame
resignation,  the  unknown  master,  whom  the choice of a Frank might
place  on the Imperial throne. But some remains of pride and prejudice
still  opposed  the elevation of Arbogastes himself; and the judicious
Barbarian  thought  it  more advisable to reign under the name of some
dependent  Roman.  He bestowed the purple on the rhetorician Eugenius;
whom he had already raised from the place of his domestic secretary to
the  rank of master of the offices. In the course, both of his private
and  public  service, the count had always approved the attachment and
abilities  of  Eugenius;  his learning and eloquence, supported by the
gravity  of  his manners, recommended him to the esteem of the people;
and  the  reluctance  with  which  he seemed to ascend the throne, may
inspire  a  favorable  prejudice  of  his  virtue  and moderation. The
ambassadors  of  the  new  emperor  were immediately despatched to the
court   of  Theodosius,  to  communicate,  with  affected  grief,  the
unfortunate  accident  of  the  death  of  Valentinian;  and,  without
mentioning the name of Arbogastes, to request, that the monarch of the
East  would embrace, as his lawful colleague, the respectable citizen,
who had obtained the unanimous suffrage of the armies and provinces of
the  West.  Theodosius  was  justly  provoked,  that  the perfidy of a
Barbarian,  should  have  destroyed,  in a moment, the labors, and the
fruit,  of  his former victory; and he was excited by the tears of his
beloved  wife,  to  revenge  the fate of her unhappy brother, and once
more  to assert by arms the violated majesty of the throne. But as the
second  conquest  of  the West was a task of difficulty and danger, he
dismissed,  with  splendid  presents,  and  an  ambiguous  answer, the
ambassadors  of  Eugenius;  and  almost two years were consumed in the
preparations   of  the  civil  war.  Before  he  formed  any  decisive
resolution,  the  pious  emperor  was  anxious to discover the will of
Heaven;  and  as the progress of Christianity had silenced the oracles
of Delphi and Dodona, he consulted an Egyptian monk, who possessed, in
the  opinion  of  the  age, the gift of miracles, and the knowledge of
futurity.  Eutropius,  one  of  the  favorite eunuchs of the palace of
Constantinople,  embarked for Alexandria, from whence he sailed up the
Nile,  as  far  as  the city of Lycopolis, or of Wolves, in the remote
province  of  Thebais.  In  the  neighborhood of that city, and on the
summit  of  a  lofty mountain, the holy John had constructed, with his
own  hands,  an  humble cell, in which he had dwelt above fifty years,
without  opening  his  door,  without  seeing the face of a woman, and
without  tasting any food that had been prepared by fire, or any human
art.  Five  days of the week he spent in prayer and meditation; but on
Saturdays  and  Sundays  he  regularly opened a small window, and gave
audience to the crowd of suppliants who successively flowed from every
part  of  the Christian world. The eunuch of Theodosius approached the
window  with  respectful  steps, proposed his questions concerning the
event  of  the  civil  war, and soon returned with a favorable oracle,
which  animated  the  courage  of  the  emperor  by the assurance of a
bloody,  but  infallible victory. The accomplishment of the prediction
was  forwarded  by all the means that human prudence could supply. The
industry  of  the  two  master-generals,  Stilicho  and  Timasius, was
directed  to  recruit the numbers, and to revive the discipline of the
Roman  legions.  The formidable troops of Barbarians marched under the
ensigns  of  their national chieftains. The Iberian, the Arab, and the
Goth,  who gazed on each other with mutual astonishment, were enlisted
in the service of the same prince; * and the renowned Alaric acquired,
in the school of Theodosius, the knowledge of the art of war, which he
afterwards so fatally exerted for the destruction of Rome.

The  emperor  of  the  West,  or,  to speak more properly, his general
Arbogastes,  was  instructed  by  the  misconduct  and  misfortune  of
Maximus,  how  dangerous  it might prove to extend the line of defence
against a skilful antagonist, who was free to press, or to suspend, to
contract,  or  to  multiply, his various methods of attack. Arbogastes
fixed  his  station on the confines of Italy; the troops of Theodosius
were  permitted  to  occupy,  without  resistance,  the  provinces  of
Pannonia,  as  far as the foot of the Julian Alps; and even the passes
of  the  mountains were negligently, or perhaps artfully, abandoned to
the  bold  invader. He descended from the hills, and beheld, with some
astonishment,  the  formidable  camp  of  the  Gauls and Germans, that
covered  with  arms  and  tents  the open country which extends to the
walls  of Aquileia, and the banks of the Frigidus, or Cold River. This
narrow theatre of the war, circumscribed by the Alps and the Adriatic,
did  not  allow  much  room  for the operations of military skill; the
spirit  of  Arbogastes  would  have  disdained  a  pardon;  his  guilt
extinguished  the  hope of a negotiation; and Theodosius was impatient
to satisfy his glory and revenge, by the chastisement of the assassins
of  Valentinian. Without weighing the natural and artificial obstacles
that opposed his efforts, the emperor of the East immediately attacked
the  fortifications  of  his  rivals,  assigned  the post of honorable
danger  to  the  Goths,  and  cherished a secret wish, that the bloody
conflict  might  diminish the pride and numbers of the conquerors. Ten
thousand  of those auxiliaries, and Bacurius, general of the Iberians,
died bravely on the field of battle. But the victory was not purchased
by their blood; the Gauls maintained their advantage; and the approach
of night protected the disorderly flight, or retreat, of the troops of
Theodosius. The emperor retired to the adjacent hills; where he passed
a  disconsolate  night, without sleep, without provisions, and without
hopes;  except  that strong assurance, which, under the most desperate
circumstances,  the  independent  mind may derive from the contempt of
fortune  and  of  life.  The triumph of Eugenius was celebrated by the
insolent and dissolute joy of his camp; whilst the active and vigilant
Arbogastes  secretly  detached a considerable body of troops to occupy
the  passes of the mountains, and to encompass the rear of the Eastern
army.  The dawn of day discovered to the eyes of Theodosius the extent
and  the  extremity  of  his  danger;  but his apprehensions were soon
dispelled,  by a friendly message from the leaders of those troops who
expressed  their inclination to desert the standard of the tyrant. The
honorable and lucrative rewards, which they stipulated as the price of
their  perfidy,  were granted without hesitation; and as ink and paper
could  not  easily  be  procured,  the  emperor subscribed, on his own
tablets,  the  ratification  of the treaty. The spirit of his soldiers
was  revived by this seasonable reenforcement; and they again marched,
with  confidence,  to  surprise  the camp of a tyrant, whose principal
officers  appeared  to  distrust, either the justice or the success of
his  arms.  In  the  heat of the battle, a violent tempest, such as is
often  felt  among the Alps, suddenly arose from the East. The army of
Theodosius was sheltered by their position from the impetuosity of the
wind, which blew a cloud of dust in the faces of the enemy, disordered
their  ranks, wrested their weapons from their hands, and diverted, or
repelled,  their  ineffectual  javelins. This accidental advantage was
skilfully  improved,  the  violence  of the storm was magnified by the
superstitious  terrors of the Gauls; and they yielded without shame to
the  invisible powers of heaven, who seemed to militate on the side of
the pious emperor. His victory was decisive; and the deaths of his two
rivals  were distinguished only by the difference of their characters.
The  rhetorician Eugenius, who had almost acquired the dominion of the
world,  was  reduced  to  implore  the mercy of the conqueror; and the
unrelenting  soldiers  separated  his  head  from  his  body as he lay
prostrate  at  the feet of Theodosius. Arbogastes, after the loss of a
battle,  in  which  he  had  discharged  the duties of a soldier and a
general,  wandered  several  days among the mountains. But when he was
convinced  that his cause was desperate, and his escape impracticable,
the intrepid Barbarian imitated the example of the ancient Romans, and
turned  his  sword  against his own breast. The fate of the empire was
determined  in  a narrow corner of Italy; and the legitimate successor
of  the  house  of  Valentinian  embraced the archbishop of Milan, and
graciously received the submission of the provinces of the West. Those
provinces   were  involved  in  the  guilt  of  rebellion;  while  the
inflexible  courage  of  Ambrose  alone  had  resisted  the  claims of
successful  usurpation.  With  a  manly freedom, which might have been
fatal  to  any  other  subject,  the  archbishop rejected the gifts of
Eugenius,  *  declined  his  correspondence, and withdrew himself from
Milan,  to  avoid  the  odious presence of a tyrant, whose downfall he
predicted in discreet and ambiguous language. The merit of Ambrose was
applauded  by  the conqueror, who secured the attachment of the people
by  his  alliance  with  the church; and the clemency of Theodosius is
ascribed to the humane intercession of the archbishop of Milan.

After  the defeat of Eugenius, the merit, as well as the authority, of
Theodosius  was  cheerfully acknowledged by all the inhabitants of the
Roman  world.  The  experience of his past conduct encouraged the most
pleasing expectations of his future reign; and the age of the emperor,
which did not exceed fifty years, seemed to extend the prospect of the
public  felicity.  His  death, only four months after his victory, was
considered  by  the  people  as  an  unforeseen and fatal event, which
destroyed,  in  a  moment, the hopes of the rising generation. But the
indulgence of ease and luxury had secretly nourished the principles of
disease.  The  strength of Theodosius was unable to support the sudden
and violent transition from the palace to the camp; and the increasing
symptoms  of a dropsy announced the speedy dissolution of the emperor.
The opinion, and perhaps the interest, of the public had confirmed the
division of the Eastern and Western empires; and the two royal youths,
Arcadius  and  Honorius, who had already obtained, from the tenderness
of  their  father,  the  title  of Augustus, were destined to fill the
thrones  of  Constantinople  and  of  Rome.  Those  princes  were  not
permitted  to share the danger and glory of the civil war; but as soon
as  Theodosius  had  triumphed over his unworthy rivals, he called his
younger  son,  Honorius,  to  enjoy  the fruits of the victory, and to
receive  the  sceptre  of the West from the hands of his dying father.
The arrival of Honorius at Milan was welcomed by a splendid exhibition
of  the  games of the Circus; and the emperor, though he was oppressed
by  the  weight  of  his  disorder, contributed by his presence to the
public  joy.  But  the  remains  of his strength were exhausted by the
painful  effort  which  he  made  to  assist  at the spectacles of the
morning.  Honorius  supplied, during the rest of the day, the place of
his  father;  and  the  great Theodosius expired in the ensuing night.
Notwithstanding  the  recent animosities of a civil war, his death was
universally  lamented.  The Barbarians, whom he had vanquished and the
churchmen,  by  whom  he  had  been subdued, celebrated, with loud and
sincere  applause,  the  qualities  of  the  deceased  emperor,  which
appeared the most valuable in their eyes. The Romans were terrified by
the  impending  dangers  of  a  feeble and divided administration, and
every  disgraceful  moment  of  the unfortunate reigns of Arcadius and
Honorius revived the memory of their irreparable loss.

In   the   faithful   picture   of  the  virtues  of  Theodosius,  his
imperfections  have  not  been dissembled; the act of cruelty, and the
habits  of indolence, which tarnished the glory of one of the greatest
of the Roman princes. An historian, perpetually adverse to the fame of
Theodosius,  has  exaggerated his vices, and their pernicious effects;
he boldly asserts, that every rank of subjects imitated the effeminate
manners  of  their  sovereign;  and  that  every species of corruption
polluted  the  course  of public and private life; and that the feeble
restraints  of  order  and  decency  were  insufficient  to resist the
progress of that degenerate spirit, which sacrifices, without a blush,
the consideration of duty and interest to the base indulgence of sloth
and  appetite. The complaints of contemporary writers, who deplore the
increase   of   luxury,  and  depravation  of  manners,  are  commonly
expressive  of  their  peculiar  temper  and  situation. There are few
observers,   who  possess  a  clear  and  comprehensive  view  of  the
revolutions  of  society;  and who are capable of discovering the nice
and  secret  springs  of  action,  which  impel,  in  the same uniform
direction,  the  blind  and  capricious  passions  of  a  multitude of
individuals. If it can be affirmed, with any degree of truth, that the
luxury  of the Romans was more shameless and dissolute in the reign of
Theodosius  than  in  the age of Constantine, perhaps, or of Augustus,
the  alteration  cannot  be  ascribed  to any beneficial improvements,
which  had  gradually  increased  the stock of national riches. A long
period  of  calamity  or  decay  must  have  checked the industry, and
diminished  the  wealth,  of the people; and their profuse luxury must
have  been  the  result  of  that  indolent  despair, which enjoys the
present  hour,  and  declines  the thoughts of futurity. The uncertain
condition  of  their  property  discouraged the subjects of Theodosius
from engaging in those useful and laborious undertakings which require
an  immediate  expense,  and promise a slow and distant advantage. The
frequent examples of ruin and desolation tempted them not to spare the
remains  of  a  patrimony, which might, every hour, become the prey of
the  rapacious  Goth.  And  the  mad prodigality which prevails in the
confusion  of  a  shipwreck,  or  a  siege,  may  serve to explain the
progress  of  luxury  amidst  the misfortunes and terrors of a sinking
nation.

The  effeminate  luxury,  which  infected  the  manners  of courts and
cities,  had  instilled a secret and destructive poison into the camps
of  the  legions; and their degeneracy has been marked by the pen of a
military  writer,  who  had accurately studied the genuine and ancient
principles   of  Roman  discipline.  It  is  the  just  and  important
observation of Vegetius, that the infantry was invariably covered with
defensive  armor, from the foundation of the city, to the reign of the
emperor  Gratian.  The  relaxation  of  discipline,  and the disuse of
exercise,  rendered  the  soldiers  less  able,  and  less willing, to
support  the fatigues of the service; they complained of the weight of
the  armor, which they seldom wore; and they successively obtained the
permission of laying aside both their cuirasses and their helmets. The
heavy  weapons of their ancestors, the short sword, and the formidable
pilum
,  which  had  subdued the world, insensibly dropped from their feeble
hands.  As the use of the shield is incompatible with that of the bow,
they  reluctantly  marched  into the field; condemned to suffer either
the  pain of wounds, or the ignominy of flight, and always disposed to
prefer  the  more  shameful alternative. The cavalry of the Goths, the
Huns,  and  the  Alani, had felt the benefits, and adopted the use, of
defensive  armor;  and,  as they excelled in the management of missile
weapons,  they  easily  overwhelmed  the  naked and trembling legions,
whose  heads  and breasts were exposed, without defence, to the arrows
of  the Barbarians. The loss of armies, the destruction of cities, and
the dishonor of the Roman name, ineffectually solicited the successors
of  Gratian  to restore the helmets and the cuirasses of the infantry.
The enervated soldiers abandoned their own and the public defence; and
their pusillanimous indolence may be considered as the immediate cause
of the downfall of the empire.

Chapter XXVIII: Destruction Of Paganism.

Part I.

Final  Destruction  Of  Paganism.  --  Introduction  Of The Worship Of
Saints, And Relics, Among The Christia
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