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Chapter XXI: Persecution Of Heresy, State Of The Church. Part I.

Persecution Of Heresy. -- The Schism Of The Donatists. -- The Arian
Controversy. -- Athanasius. -- Distracted State Of The Church And Empire
Under Constantine And His Sons. -- Toleration Of Paganism.

The grateful applause of the clergy has consecrated the memory of a
prince who indulged their passions and promoted their interest.
Constantine gave them security, wealth, honors, and revenge; and the
support of the orthodox faith was considered as the most sacred and
important duty of the civil magistrate. The edict of Milan, the great
charter of toleration, had confirmed to each individual of the Roman
world the privilege of choosing and professing his own religion. But
this inestimable privilege was soon violated; with the knowledge of
truth, the emperor imbibed the maxims of persecution; and the sects
which dissented from the Catholic church were afflicted and oppressed by
the triumph of Christianity. Constantine easily believed that the
Heretics, who presumed to dispute hisopinions, or to oppose hiscommands,
were guilty of the most absurd and criminal obstinacy; and that a
seasonable application of moderate severities might save those unhappy
men from the danger of an everlasting condemnation. Not a moment was
lost in excluding the ministers and teachers of the separated
congregations from any share of the rewards and immunities which the
emperor had so liberally bestowed on the orthodox clergy. But as the
sectaries might still exist under the cloud of royal disgrace, the
conquest of the East was immediately followed by an edict which
announced their total destruction.  After a preamble filled with passion
and reproach, Constantine absolutely prohibits the assemblies of the
Heretics, and confiscates their public property to the use either of the
revenue or of the Catholic church. The sects against whom the Imperial
severity was directed, appear to have been the adherents of Paul of
Samosata; the Montanists of Phrygia, who maintained an enthusiastic
succession of prophecy; the Novatians, who sternly rejected the temporal
efficacy of repentance; the Marcionites and Valentinians, under whose
leading banners the various Gnostics of Asia and Egypt had insensibly
rallied; and perhaps the Manichæans, who had recently imported from
Persia a more artful composition of Oriental and Christian theology.
The design of extirpating the name, or at least of restraining the
progress, of these odious Heretics, was prosecuted with vigor and
effect. Some of the penal regulations were copied from the edicts of
Diocletian; and this method of conversion was applauded by the same
bishops who had felt the hand of oppression, and pleaded for the rights
of humanity. Two immaterial circumstances may serve, however, to prove
that the mind of Constantine was not entirely corrupted by the spirit of
zeal and bigotry. Before he condemned the Manichæans and their kindred
sects, he resolved to make an accurate inquiry into the nature of their
religious principles. As if he distrusted the impartiality of his
ecclesiastical counsellors, this delicate commission was intrusted to a
civil magistrate, whose learning and moderation he justly esteemed, and
of whose venal character he was probably ignorant.  The emperor was soon
convinced, that he had too hastily proscribed the orthodox faith and the
exemplary morals of the Novatians, who had dissented from the church in
some articles of discipline which were not perhaps essential to
salvation. By a particular edict, he exempted them from the general
penalties of the law;  allowed them to build a church at Constantinople,
respected the miracles of their saints, invited their bishop Acesius to
the council of Nice; and gently ridiculed the narrow tenets of his sect
by a familiar jest; which, from the mouth of a sovereign, must have been
received with applause and gratitude.

The complaints and mutual accusations which assailed the throne of
Constantine, as soon as the death of Maxentius had submitted Africa to
his victorious arms, were ill adapted to edify an imperfect proselyte.
He learned, with surprise, that the provinces of that great country,
from the confines of Cyrene to the columns of Hercules, were distracted
with religious discord.  The source of the division was derived from a
double election in the church of Carthage; the second, in rank and
opulence, of the ecclesiastical thrones of the West. Cæcilian and
Majorinus were the two rival prelates of Africa; and the death of the
latter soon made room for Donatus, who, by his superior abilities and
apparent virtues, was the firmest support of his party. The advantage
which Cæcilian might claim from the priority of his ordination, was
destroyed by the illegal, or at least indecent, haste, with which it had
been performed, without expecting the arrival of the bishops of Numidia.
The authority of these bishops, who, to the number of seventy, condemned
Cæcilian, and consecrated Majorinus, is again weakened by the infamy of
some of their personal characters; and by the female intrigues,
sacrilegious bargains, and tumultuous proceedings, which are imputed to
this Numidian council.  The bishops of the contending factions
maintained, with equal ardor and obstinacy, that their adversaries were
degraded, or at least dishonored, by the odious crime of delivering the
Holy Scriptures to the officers of Diocletian. From their mutual
reproaches, as well as from the story of this dark transaction, it may
justly be inferred, that the late persecution had imbittered the zeal,
without reforming the manners, of the African Christians. That divided
church was incapable of affording an impartial judicature; the
controversy was solemnly tried in five successive tribunals, which were
appointed by the emperor; and the whole proceeding, from the first
appeal to the final sentence, lasted above three years. A severe
inquisition, which was taken by the Prætorian vicar, and the proconsul
of Africa, the report of two episcopal visitors who had been sent to
Carthage, the decrees of the councils of Rome and of Arles, and the
supreme judgment of Constantine himself in his sacred consistory, were
all favorable to the cause of Cæcilian; and he was unanimously
acknowledged by the civil and ecclesiastical powers, as the true and
lawful primate of Africa. The honors and estates of the church were
attributed to his suffragan bishops, and it was not without difficulty,
that Constantine was satisfied with inflicting the punishment of exile
on the principal leaders of the Donatist faction. As their cause was
examined with attention, perhaps it was determined with justice. Perhaps
their complaint was not without foundation, that the credulity of the
emperor had been abused by the insidious arts of his favorite Osius. The
influence of falsehood and corruption might procure the condemnation of
the innocent, or aggravate the sentence of the guilty. Such an act,
however, of injustice, if it concluded an importunate dispute, might be
numbered among the transient evils of a despotic administration, which
are neither felt nor remembered by posterity.

But this incident, so inconsiderable that it scarcely deserves a place
in history, was productive of a memorable schism which afflicted the
provinces of Africa above three hundred years, and was extinguished only
with Christianity itself. The inflexible zeal of freedom and fanaticism
animated the Donatists to refuse obedience to the usurpers, whose
election they disputed, and whose spiritual powers they denied. Excluded
from the civil and religious communion of mankind, they boldly
excommunicated the rest of mankind, who had embraced the impious party
of Cæcilian, and of the Traditors, from which he derived his pretended
ordination. They asserted with confidence, and almost with exultation,
that the Apostolical succession was interrupted; that all the bishops of
Europe and Asia were infected by the contagion of guilt and schism; and
that the prerogatives of the Catholic church were confined to the chosen
portion of the African believers, who alone had preserved inviolate the
integrity of their faith and discipline. This rigid theory was supported
by the most uncharitable conduct. Whenever they acquired a proselyte,
even from the distant provinces of the East, they carefully repeated the
sacred rites of baptism  and ordination; as they rejected the validity
of those which he had already received from the hands of heretics or
schismatics. Bishops, virgins, and even spotless infants, were subjected
to the disgrace of a public penance, before they could be admitted to
the communion of the Donatists. If they obtained possession of a church
which had been used by their Catholic adversaries, they purified the
unhallowed building with the same zealous care which a temple of idols
might have required. They washed the pavement, scraped the walls, burnt
the altar, which was commonly of wood, melted the consecrated plate, and
cast the Holy Eucharist to the dogs, with every circumstance of ignominy
which could provoke and perpetuate the animosity of religious factions.
Notwithstanding this irreconcilable aversion, the two parties, who were
mixed and separated in all the cities of Africa, had the same language
and manners, the same zeal and learning, the same faith and worship.
Proscribed by the civil and ecclesiastical powers of the empire, the
Donatists still maintained in some provinces, particularly in Numidia,
their superior numbers; and four hundred bishops acknowledged the
jurisdiction of their primate. But the invincible spirit of the sect
sometimes preyed on its own vitals: and the bosom of their schismatical
church was torn by intestine divisions. A fourth part of the Donatist
bishops followed the independent standard of the Maximianists. The
narrow and solitary path which their first leaders had marked out,
continued to deviate from the great society of mankind. Even the
imperceptible sect of the Rogatians could affirm, without a blush, that
when Christ should descend to judge the earth, he would find his true
religion preserved only in a few nameless villages of the Cæsarean
Mauritania.

The schism of the Donatists was confined to Africa: the more diffusive
mischief of the Trinitarian controversy successively penetrated into
every part of the Christian world. The former was an accidental quarrel,
occasioned by the abuse of freedom; the latter was a high and mysterious
argument, derived from the abuse of philosophy. From the age of
Constantine to that of Clovis and Theodoric, the temporal interests both
of the Romans and Barbarians were deeply involved in the theological
disputes of Arianism. The historian may therefore be permitted
respectfully to withdraw the veil of the sanctuary; and to deduce the
progress of reason and faith, of error and passion from the school of
Plato, to the decline and fall of the empire.

The genius of Plato, informed by his own meditation, or by the
traditional knowledge of the priests of Egypt,  had ventured to explore
the mysterious nature of the Deity. When he had elevated his mind to the
sublime contemplation of the first self-existent, necessary cause of the
universe, the Athenian sage was incapable of conceiving how the simple
unity of his essence could admit the infinite variety of distinct and
successive ideas which compose the model of the intellectual world; how
a Being purely incorporeal could execute that perfect model, and mould
with a plastic hand the rude and independent chaos. The vain hope of
extricating himself from these difficulties, which must ever oppress the
feeble powers of the human mind, might induce Plato to consider the
divine nature under the threefold modification -- of the first cause,
the reason, or Logos, and the soul or spirit of the universe. His
poetical imagination sometimes fixed and animated these metaphysical
abstractions; the three archical on original principles were represented
in the Platonic system as three Gods, united with each other by a
mysterious and ineffable generation; and the Logos was particularly
considered under the more accessible character of the Son of an Eternal
Father, and the Creator and Governor of the world. Such appear to have
been the secret doctrines which were cautiously whispered in the gardens
of the academy; and which, according to the more recent disciples of
Plato, * could not be perfectly understood, till after an assiduous
study of thirty years.

The arms of the Macedonians diffused over Asia and Egypt the language
and learning of Greece; and the theological system of Plato was taught,
with less reserve, and perhaps with some improvements, in the celebrated
school of Alexandria.  A numerous colony of Jews had been invited, by
the favor of the Ptolemies, to settle in their new capital.  While the
bulk of the nation practised the legal ceremonies, and pursued the
lucrative occupations of commerce, a few Hebrews, of a more liberal
spirit, devoted their lives to religious and philosophical
contemplation.  They cultivated with diligence, and embraced with ardor,
the theological system of the Athenian sage. But their national pride
would have been mortified by a fair confession of their former poverty:
and they boldly marked, as the sacred inheritance of their ancestors,
the gold and jewels which they had so lately stolen from their Egyptian
masters. One hundred years before the birth of Christ, a philosophical
treatise, which manifestly betrays the style and sentiments of the
school of Plato, was produced by the Alexandrian Jews, and unanimously
received as a genuine and valuable relic of the inspired Wisdom of
Solomon.  A similar union of the Mosaic faith and the Grecian
philosophy, distinguishes the works of Philo, which were composed, for
the most part, under the reign of Augustus.  The material soul of the
universe  might offend the piety of the Hebrews: but they applied the
character of the Logos to the Jehovah of Moses and the patriarchs; and
the Son of God was introduced upon earth under a visible, and even human
appearance, to perform those familiar offices which seem incompatible
with the nature and attributes of the Universal Cause.

Chapter XXI: Persecution Of Heresy, State Of The Church. -- Part II.

The eloquence of Plato, the name of Solomon, the authority of the school
of Alexandria, and the consent of the Jews and Greeks, were insufficient
to establish the truth of a mysterious doctrine, which might please, but
could not satisfy, a rational mind. A prophet, or apostle, inspired by
the Deity, can alone exercise a lawful dominion over the faith of
mankind: and the theology of Plato might have been forever confounded
with the philosophical visions of the Academy, the Porch, and the
Lycæum, if the name and divine attributes of the Logoshad not been
confirmed by the celestial pen of the last and most sublime of the
Evangelists.  The Christian Revelation, which was consummated under the
reign of Nerva, disclosed to the world the amazing secret, that the
Logos, who was with God from the beginning, and was God, who had made
all things, and for whom all things had been made, was incarnate in the
person of Jesus of Nazareth; who had been born of a virgin, and suffered
death on the cross. Besides the genera design of fixing on a perpetual
basis the divine honors of Christ, the most ancient and respectable of
the ecclesiastical writers have ascribed to the evangelic theologian a
particular intention to confute two opposite heresies, which disturbed
the peace of the primitive church.  I. The faith of the Ebionites,
perhaps of the Nazarenes,  was gross and imperfect. They revered Jesus
as the greatest of the prophets, endowed with supernatural virtue and
power. They ascribed to his person and to his future reign all the
predictions of the Hebrew oracles which relate to the spiritual and
everlasting kingdom of the promised Messiah.  Some of them might confess
that he was born of a virgin; but they obstinately rejected the
preceding existence and divine perfections of the Logos, or Son of God,
which are so clearly defined in the Gospel of St. John. About fifty
years afterwards, the Ebionites, whose errors are mentioned by Justin
Martyr with less severity than they seem to deserve,  formed a very
inconsiderable portion of the Christian name. II. The Gnostics, who were
distinguished by the epithet of Docetes, deviated into the contrary
extreme; and betrayed the human, while they asserted the divine, nature
of Christ. Educated in the school of Plato, accustomed to the sublime
idea of the Logos, they readily conceived that the brightest Æon, or
Emanationof the Deity, might assume the outward shape and visible
appearances of a mortal;  but they vainly pretended, that the
imperfections of matter are incompatible with the purity of a celestial
substance. While the blood of Christ yet smoked on Mount Calvary, the
Docetes invented the impious and extravagant hypothesis, that, instead
of issuing from the womb of the Virgin,  he had descended on the banks
of the Jordan in the form of perfect manhood; that he had imposed on the
senses of his enemies, and of his disciples; and that the ministers of
Pilate had wasted their impotent rage on an airy phantom, who seemedto
expire on the cross, and, after three days, to rise from the dead.

The divine sanction, which the Apostle had bestowed on the fundamental
principle of the theology of Plato, encouraged the learned proselytes of
the second and third centuries to admire and study the writings of the
Athenian sage, who had thus marvellously anticipated one of the most
surprising discoveries of the Christian revelation. The respectable name
of Plato was used by the orthodox,  and abused by the heretics,  as the
common support of truth and error: the authority of his skilful
commentators, and the science of dialectics, were employed to justify
the remote consequences of his opinions and to supply the discreet
silence of the inspired writers. The same subtle and profound questions
concerning the nature, the generation, the distinction, and the equality
of the three divine persons of the mysterious Triad, or Trinity,  were
agitated in the philosophical and in the Christian schools of
Alexandria. An eager spirit of curiosity urged them to explore the
secrets of the abyss; and the pride of the professors, and of their
disciples, was satisfied with the sciences of words. But the most
sagacious of the Christian theologians, the great Athanasius himself,
has candidly confessed,  that whenever he forced his understanding to
meditate on the divinity of the Logos, his toilsome and unavailing
efforts recoiled on themselves; that the more he thought, the less he
comprehended; and the more he wrote, the less capable was he of
expressing his thoughts. In every step of the inquiry, we are compelled
to feel and acknowledge the immeasurable disproportion between the size
of the object and the capacity of the human mind. We may strive to
abstract the notions of time, of space, and of matter, which so closely
adhere to all the perceptions of our experimental knowledge. But as soon
as we presume to reason of infinite substance, of spiritual generation;
as often as we deduce any positive conclusions from a negative idea, we
are involved in darkness, perplexity, and inevitable contradiction. As
these difficulties arise from the nature of the subject, they oppress,
with the same insuperable weight, the philosophic and the theological
disputant; but we may observe two essential and peculiar circumstances,
which discriminated the doctrines of the Catholic church from the
opinions of the Platonic school.

I. A chosen society of philosophers, men of a liberal education and
curious disposition, might silently meditate, and temperately discuss in
the gardens of Athens or the library of Alexandria, the abstruse
questions of metaphysical science. The lofty speculations, which neither
convinced the understanding, nor agitated the passions, of the
Platonists themselves, were carelessly overlooked by the idle, the busy,
and even the studious part of mankind.  But after the Logoshad been
revealed as the sacred object of the faith, the hope, and the religious
worship of the Christians, the mysterious system was embraced by a
numerous and increasing multitude in every province of the Roman world.
Those persons who, from their age, or sex, or occupations, were the
least qualified to judge, who were the least exercised in the habits of
abstract reasoning, aspired to contemplate the economy of the Divine
Nature: and it is the boast of Tertullian,  that a Christian mechanic
could readily answer such questions as had perplexed the wisest of the
Grecian sages. Where the subject lies so far beyond our reach, the
difference between the highest and the lowest of human understandings
may indeed be calculated as infinitely small; yet the degree of weakness
may perhaps be measured by the degree of obstinacy and dogmatic
confidence. These speculations, instead of being treated as the
amusement of a vacant hour, became the most serious business of the
present, and the most useful preparation for a future, life. A theology,
which it was incumbent to believe, which it was impious to doubt, and
which it might be dangerous, and even fatal, to mistake, became the
familiar topic of private meditation and popular discourse. The cold
indifference of philosophy was inflamed by the fervent spirit of
devotion; and even the metaphors of common language suggested the
fallacious prejudices of sense and experience. The Christians, who
abhorred the gross and impure generation of the Greek mythology,  were
tempted to argue from the familiar analogy of the filial and paternal
relations. The character of Sonseemed to imply a perpetual subordination
to the voluntary author of his existence;  but as the act of generation,
in the most spiritual and abstracted sense, must be supposed to transmit
the properties of a common nature,  they durst not presume to
circumscribe the powers or the duration of the Son of an eternal and
omnipotent Father. Fourscore years after the death of Christ, the
Christians of Bithynia, declared before the tribunal of Pliny, that they
invoked him as a god: and his divine honors have been perpetuated in
every age and country, by the various sects who assume the name of his
disciples.  Their tender reverence for the memory of Christ, and their
horror for the profane worship of any created being, would have engaged
them to assert the equal and absolute divinity of the Logos, if their
rapid ascent towards the throne of heaven had not been imperceptibly
checked by the apprehension of violating the unity and sole supremacy of
the great Father of Christ and of the Universe. The suspense and
fluctuation produced in the minds of the Christians by these opposite
tendencies, may be observed in the writings of the theologians who
flourished after the end of the apostolic age, and before the origin of
the Arian controversy. Their suffrage is claimed, with equal confidence,
by the orthodox and by the heretical parties; and the most inquisitive
critics have fairly allowed, that if they had the good fortune of
possessing the Catholic verity, they have delivered their conceptions in
loose, inaccurate, and sometimes contradictory language.

Chapter XXI: Persecution Of Heresy, State Of The Church. -- Part III.

II. The devotion of individuals was the first circumstance which
distinguished the Christians from the Platonists: the second was the
authority of the church. The disciples of philosophy asserted the rights
of intellectual freedom, and their respect for the sentiments of their
teachers was a liberal and voluntary tribute, which they offered to
superior reason. But the Christians formed a numerous and disciplined
society; and the jurisdiction of their laws and magistrates was strictly
exercised over the minds of the faithful. The loose wanderings of the
imagination were gradually confined by creeds and confessions;  the
freedom of private judgment submitted to the public wisdom of synods;
the authority of a theologian was determined by his ecclesiastical rank;
and the episcopal successors of the apostles inflicted the censures of
the church on those who deviated from the orthodox belief. But in an age
of religious controversy, every act of oppression adds new force to the
elastic vigor of the mind; and the zeal or obstinacy of a spiritual
rebel was sometimes stimulated by secret motives of ambition or avarice.
A metaphysical argument became the cause or pretence of political
contests; the subtleties of the Platonic school were used as the badges
of popular factions, and the distance which separated their respective
tenets were enlarged or magnified by the acrimony of dispute. As long as
the dark heresies of Praxeas and Sabellius labored to confound the
Fatherwith the Son,  the orthodox party might be excused if they adhered
more strictly and more earnestly to the distinction, than to the
equality, of the divine persons. But as soon as the heat of controversy
had subsided, and the progress of the Sabellians was no longer an object
of terror to the churches of Rome, of Africa, or of Egypt, the tide of
theological opinion began to flow with a gentle but steady motion
towards the contrary extreme; and the most orthodox doctors allowed
themselves the use of the terms and definitions which had been censured
in the mouth of the sectaries.  After the edict of toleration had
restored peace and leisure to the Christians, the Trinitarian
controversy was revived in the ancient seat of Platonism, the learned,
the opulent, the tumultuous city of Alexandria; and the flame of
religious discord was rapidly communicated from the schools to the
clergy, the people, the province, and the East. The abstruse question of
the eternity of the Logoswas agitated in ecclesiastic conferences and
popular sermons; and the heterodox opinions of Arius  were soon made
public by his own zeal, and by that of his adversaries. His most
implacable adversaries have acknowledged the learning and blameless life
of that eminent presbyter, who, in a former election, had declared, and
perhaps generously declined, his pretensions to the episcopal throne.
His competitor Alexander assumed the office of his judge. The important
cause was argued before him; and if at first he seemed to hesitate, he
at length pronounced his final sentence, as an absolute rule of faith.
The undaunted presbyter, who presumed to resist the authority of his
angry bishop, was separated from the community of the church. But the
pride of Arius was supported by the applause of a numerous party. He
reckoned among his immediate followers two bishops of Egypt, seven
presbyters, twelve deacons, and (what may appear almost incredible)
seven hundred virgins. A large majority of the bishops of Asia appeared
to support or favor his cause; and their measures were conducted by
Eusebius of Cæsarea, the most learned of the Christian prelates; and by
Eusebius of Nicomedia, who had acquired the reputation of a statesman
without forfeiting that of a saint. Synods in Palestine and Bithynia
were opposed to the synods of Egypt. The attention of the prince and
people was attracted by this theological dispute; and the decision, at
the end of six years,  was referred to the supreme authority of the
general council of Nice.

When the mysteries of the Christian faith were dangerously exposed to
public debate, it might be observed, that the human understanding was
capable of forming three district, though imperfect systems, concerning
the nature of the Divine Trinity; and it was pronounced, that none of
these systems, in a pure and absolute sense, were exempt from heresy and
error.  I. According to the first hypothesis, which was maintained by
Arius and his disciples, the Logoswas a dependent and spontaneous
production, created from nothing by the will of the father. The Son, by
whom all things were made,  had been begotten before all worlds, and the
longest of the astronomical periods could be compared only as a fleeting
moment to the extent of his duration; yet this duration was not
infinite,  and there hadbeen a time which preceded the ineffable
generation of the Logos. On this only-begotten Son, the Almighty Father
had transfused his ample spirit, and impressed the effulgence of his
glory. Visible image of invisible perfection, he saw, at an immeasurable
distance beneath his feet, the thrones of the brightest archangels; yet
he shone only with a reflected light, and, like the sons of the Romans
emperors, who were invested with the titles of Cæsar or Augustus,  he
governed the universe in obedience to the will of his Father and
Monarch. II. In the second hypothesis, the Logospossessed all the
inherent, incommunicable perfections, which religion and philosophy
appropriate to the Supreme God. Three distinct and infinite minds or
substances, three coëqual and coëternal beings, composed the Divine
Essence;  and it would have implied contradiction, that any of them
should not have existed, or that they should ever cease to exist.  The
advocates of a system which seemed to establish three independent
Deities, attempted to preserve the unity of the First Cause, so
conspicuous in the design and order of the world, by the perpetual
concord of their administration, and the essential agreement of their
will. A faint resemblance of this unity of action may be discovered in
the societies of men, and even of animals. The causes which disturb
their harmony, proceed only from the imperfection and inequality of
their faculties; but the omnipotence which is guided by infinite wisdom
and goodness, cannot fail of choosing the same means for the
accomplishment of the same ends. III. Three beings, who, by the
self-derived necessity of their existence, possess all the divine
attributes in the most perfect degree; who are eternal in duration,
infinite in space, and intimately present to each other, and to the
whole universe; irresistibly force themselves on the astonished mind, as
one and the same being,  who, in the economy of grace, as well as in
that of nature, may manifest himself under different forms, and be
considered under different aspects. By this hypothesis, a real
substantial trinity is refined into a trinity of names, and abstract
modifications, that subsist only in the mind which conceives them. The
Logosis no longer a person, but an attribute; and it is only in a
figurative sense that the epithet of Son can be applied to the eternal
reason, which was with God from the beginning, and by which, not by
whom, all things were made. The incarnation of the Logosis reduced to a
mere inspiration of the Divine Wisdom, which filled the soul, and
directed all the actions, of the man Jesus. Thus, after revolving around
the theological circle, we are surprised to find that the Sabellian ends
where the Ebionite had begun; and that the incomprehensible mystery
which excites our adoration, eludes our inquiry.

If the bishops of the council of Nice  had been permitted to follow the
unbiased dictates of their conscience, Arius and his associates could
scarcely have flattered themselves with the hopes of obtaining a
majority of votes, in favor of an hypothesis so directly averse to the
two most popular opinions of the Catholic world. The Arians soon
perceived the danger of their situation, and prudently assumed those
modest virtues, which, in the fury of civil and religious dissensions,
are seldom practised, or even praised, except by the weaker party. They
recommended the exercise of Christian charity and moderation; urged the
incomprehensible nature of the controversy, disclaimed the use of any
terms or definitions which could not be found in the Scriptures; and
offered, by very liberal concessions, to satisfy their adversaries
without renouncing the integrity of their own principles. The victorious
faction received all their proposals with haughty suspicion; and
anxiously sought for some irreconcilable mark of distinction, the
rejection of which might involve the Arians in the guilt and
consequences of heresy. A letter was publicly read, and ignominiously
torn, in which their patron, Eusebius of Nicomedia, ingenuously
confessed, that the admission of the Homoousion, or Consubstantial, a
word already familiar to the Platonists, was incompatible with the
principles of their theological system. The fortunate opportunity was
eagerly embraced by the bishops, who governed the resolutions of the
synod; and, according to the lively expression of Ambrose,  they used
the sword, which heresy itself had drawn from the scabbard, to cut off
the head of the hated monster. The consubstantiality of the Father and
the Son was established by the council of Nice, and has been unanimously
received as a fundamental article of the Christian faith, by the consent
of the Greek, the Latin, the Oriental, and the Protestant churches. But
if the same word had not served to stigmatize the heretics, and to unite
the Catholics, it would have been inadequate to the purpose of the
majority, by whom it was introduced into the orthodox creed. This
majority was divided into two parties, distinguished by a contrary
tendency to the sentiments of the Tritheists and of the Sabellians. But
as those opposite extremes seemed to overthrow the foundations either of
natural or revealed religion, they mutually agreed to qualify the rigor
of their principles; and to disavow the just, but invidious,
consequences, which might be urged by their antagonists. The interest of
the common cause inclined them to join their numbers, and to conceal
their differences; their animosity was softened by the healing counsels
of toleration, and their disputes were suspended by the use of the
mysterious Homoousion, which either party was free to interpret
according to their peculiar tenets. The Sabellian sense, which, about
fifty years before, had obliged the council of Antioch  to prohibit this
celebrated term, had endeared it to those theologians who entertained a
secret but partial affection for a nominal Trinity. But the more
fashionable saints of the Arian times, the intrepid Athanasius, the
learned Gregory Nazianzen, and the other pillars of the church, who
supported with ability and success the Nicene doctrine, appeared to
consider the expression of substanceas if it had been synonymous with
that of nature; and they ventured to illustrate their meaning, by
affirming that three men, as they belong to the same common species, are
consubstantial, or homoousian to each other.  This pure and distinct
equality was tempered, on the one hand, by the internal connection, and
spiritual penetration which indissolubly unites the divine persons;
and, on the other, by the preeminence of the Father, which was
acknowledged as far as it is compatible with the independence of the
Son.  Within these limits, the almost invisible and tremulous ball of
orthodoxy was allowed securely to vibrate. On either side, beyond this
consecrated ground, the heretics and the dæmons lurked in ambush to
surprise and devour the unhappy wanderer. But as the degrees of
theological hatred depend on the spirit of the war, rather than on the
importance of the controversy, the heretics who degraded, were treated
with more severity than those who annihilated, the person of the Son.
The life of Athanasius was consumed in irreconcilable opposition to the
impious madness of the Arians;  but he defended above twenty years the
Sabellianism of Marcellus of Ancyra; and when at last he was compelled
to withdraw himself from his communion, he continued to mention, with an
ambiguous smile, the venial errors of his respectable friend.

The authority of a general council, to which the Arians themselves had
been compelled to submit, inscribed on the banners of the orthodox party
the mysterious characters of the word Homoousion, which essentially
contributed, notwithstanding some obscure disputes, some nocturnal
combats, to maintain and perpetuate the uniformity of faith, or at least
of language. The Consubstantialists, who by their success have deserved
and obtained the title of Catholics, gloried in the simplicity and
steadiness of their own creed, and insulted the repeated variations of
their adversaries, who were destitute of any certain rule of faith. The
sincerity or the cunning of the Arian chiefs, the fear of the laws or of
the people, their reverence for Christ, their hatred of Athanasius, all
the causes, human and divine, that influence and disturb the counsels of
a theological faction, introduced among the sectaries a spirit of
discord and inconstancy, which, in the course of a few years, erected
eighteen different models of religion,  and avenged the violated dignity
of the church. The zealous Hilary,  who, from the peculiar hardships of
his situation, was inclined to extenuate rather than to aggravate the
errors of the Oriental clergy, declares, that in the wide extent of the
ten provinces of Asia, to which he had been banished, there could be
found very few prelates who had preserved the knowledge of the true God.
The oppression which he had felt, the disorders of which he was the
spectator and the victim, appeased, during a short interval, the angry
passions of his soul; and in the following passage, of which I shall
transcribe a few lines, the bishop of Poitiers unwarily deviates into
the style of a Christian philosopher. "It is a thing," says Hilary,
"equally deplorable and dangerous, that there are as many creeds as
opinions among men, as many doctrines as inclinations, and as many
sources of blasphemy as there are faults among us; because we make
creeds arbitrarily, and explain them as arbitrarily. The Homoousion is
rejected, and received, and explained away by successive synods. The
partial or total resemblance of the Father and of the Son is a subject
of dispute for these unhappy times. Every year, nay, every moon, we make
new creeds to describe invisible mysteries. We repent of what we have
done, we defend those who repent, we anathematize those whom we
defended. We condemn either the doctrine of others in ourselves, or our
own in that of others; and reciprocally tearing one another to pieces,
we have been the cause of each other's ruin."

It will not be expected, it would not perhaps be endured, that I should
swell this theological digression, by a minute examination of the
eighteen creeds, the authors of which, for the most part, disclaimed the
odious name of their parent Arius. It is amusing enough to delineate the
form, and to trace the vegetation, of a singular plant; but the tedious
detail of leaves without flowers, and of branches without fruit, would
soon exhaust the patience, and disappoint the curiosity, of the
laborious student. One question, which gradually arose from the Arian
controversy, may, however, be noticed, as it served to produce and
discriminate the three sects, who were united only by their common
aversion to the Homoousion of the Nicene synod. 1. If they were asked
whether the Son was like unto the Father, the question was resolutely
answered in the negative, by the heretics who adhered to the principles
of Arius, or indeed to those of philosophy; which seem to establish an
infinite difference between the Creator and the most excellent of his
creatures. This obvious consequence was maintained by Ætius,  on whom
the zeal of his adversaries bestowed the surname of the Atheist. His
restless and aspiring spirit urged him to try almost every profession of
human life. He was successively a slave, or at least a husbandman, a
travelling tinker, a goldsmith, a physician, a schoolmaster, a
theologian, and at last the apostle of a new church, which was
propagated by the abilities of his disciple Eunomius.  Armed with texts
of Scripture, and with captious syllogisms from the logic of Aristotle,
the subtle Ætius had acquired the fame of an invincible disputant, whom
it was impossible either to silence or to convince. Such talents engaged
the friendship of the Arian bishops, till they were forced to renounce,
and even to persecute, a dangerous ally, who, by the accuracy of his
reasoning, had prejudiced their cause in the popular opinion, and
offended the piety of their most devoted followers. 2. The omnipotence
of the Creator suggested a specious and respectful solution of the
likenessof the Father and the Son; and faith might humbly receive what
reason could not presume to deny, that the Supreme God might communicate
his infinite perfections, and create a being similar only to himself.
These Arians were powerfully supported by the weight and abilities of
their leaders, who had succeeded to the management of the Eusebian
interest, and who occupied the principal thrones of the East. They
detested, perhaps with some affectation, the impiety of Ætius; they
professed to believe, either without reserve, or according to the
Scriptures, that the Son was different from all othercreatures, and
similar only to the Father. But they denied, the he was either of the
same, or of a similar substance; sometimes boldly justifying their
dissent, and sometimes objecting to the use of the word substance, which
seems to imply an adequate, or at least, a distinct, notion of the
nature of the Deity. 3. The sect which deserted the doctrine of a
similar substance, was the most numerous, at least in the provinces of
Asia; and when the leaders of both parties were assembled in the council
of Seleucia,  theiropinion would have prevailed by a majority of one
hundred and five to forty-three bishops. The Greek word, which was
chosen to express this mysterious resemblance, bears so close an
affinity to the orthodox symbol, that the profane of every age have
derided the furious contests which the difference of a single diphthong
excited between the Homoousians and the Homoiousians. As it frequently
happens, that the sounds and characters which approach the nearest to
each other accidentally represent the most opposite ideas, the
observation would be itself ridiculous, if it were possible to mark any
real and sensible distinction between the doctrine of the Semi-Arians,
as they were improperly styled, and that of the Catholics themselves.
The bishop of Poitiers, who in his Phrygian exile very wisely aimed at a
coalition of parties, endeavors to prove that by a pious and faithful
interpretation,  the Homoiousionmay be reduced to a consubstantial
sense. Yet he confesses that the word has a dark and suspicious aspect;
and, as if darkness were congenial to theological disputes, the
Semi-Arians, who advanced to the doors of the church, assailed them with
the most unrelenting fury.

The provinces of Egypt and Asia, which cultivated the language and
manners of the Greeks, had deeply imbibed the venom of the Arian
controversy. The familiar study of the Platonic system, a vain and
argumentative disposition, a copious and flexible idiom, supplied the
clergy and people of the East with an inexhaustible flow of words and
distinctions; and, in the midst of their fierce contentions, they easily
forgot the doubt which is recommended by philosophy, and the submission
which is enjoined by religion. The inhabitants of the West were of a
less inquisitive spirit; their passions were not so forcibly moved by
invisible objects, their minds were less frequently exercised by the
habits of dispute; and such was the happy ignorance of the Gallican
church, that Hilary himself, above thirty years after the first general
council, was still a stranger to the Nicene creed.  The Latins had
received the rays of divine knowledge through the dark and doubtful
medium of a translation. The poverty and stubbornness of their native
tongue was not always capable of affording just equivalents for the
Greek terms, for the technical words of the Platonic philosophy,  which
had been consecrated, by the gospel or by the church, to express the
mysteries of the Christian faith; and a verbal defect might introduce
into the Latin theology a long train of error or perplexity.  But as the
western provincials had the good fortune of deriving their religion from
an orthodox source, they preserved with steadiness the doctrine which
they had accepted with docility; and when the Arian pestilence
approached their frontiers, they were supplied with the seasonable
preservative of the Homoousion, by the paternal care of the Roman
pontiff. Their sentiments and their temper were displayed in the
memorable synod of Rimini, which surpassed in numbers the council of
Nice, since it was composed of above four hundred bishops of Italy,
Africa, Spain, Gaul, Britain, and Illyricum. From the first debates it
appeared, that only fourscore prelates adhered to the party, though
theyaffected to anathematize the name and memory, of Arius. But this
inferiority was compensated by the advantages of skill, of experience,
and of discipline; and the minority was conducted by Valens and
Ursacius, two bishops of Illyricum, who had spent their lives in the
intrigues of courts and councils, and who had been trained under the
Eusebian banner in the religious wars of the East. By their arguments
and negotiations, they embarrassed, they confounded, they at last
deceived, the honest simplicity of the Latin bishops; who suffered the
palladium of the faith to be extorted from their hand by fraud and
importunity, rather than by open violence. The council of Rimini was not
allowed to separate, till the members had imprudently subscribed a
captious creed, in which some expressions, susceptible of an heretical
sense, were inserted in the room of the Homoousion. It was on this
occasion, that, according to Jerom, the world was surprised to find
itself Arian.  But the bishops of the Latin provinces had no sooner
reached their respective dioceses, than they discovered their mistake,
and repented of their weakness. The ignominious capitulation was
rejected with disdain and abhorrence; and the Homoousian standard, which
had been shaken but not overthrown, was more firmly replanted in all the
churches of the West.

Chapter XXI: Persecution Of Heresy, State Of The Church. -- Part IV.

Such was the rise and progress, and such were the natural revolutions of
those theological disputes, which disturbed the peace of Christianity
under the reigns of Constantine and of his sons. But as those princes
presumed to extend their despotism over the faith, as well as over the
lives and fortunes, of their subjects, the weight of their suffrage
sometimes inclined the ecclesiastical balance: and the prerogatives of
the King of Heaven were settled, or changed, or modified, in the cabinet
of an earthly monarch.

The unhappy spirit of discord which pervaded the provinces of the East,
interrupted the triumph of Constantine; but the emperor continued for
some time to view, with cool and careless indifference, the object of
the dispute. As he was yet ignorant of the difficulty of appeasing the
quarrels of theologians, he addressed to the contending parties, to
Alexander and to Arius, a moderating epistle;  which may be ascribed,
with far greater reason, to the untutored sense of a soldier and
statesman, than to the dictates of any of his episcopal counsellors. He
attributes the origin of the whole controversy to a trifling and subtle
question, concerning an incomprehensible point of law, which was
foolishly asked by the bishop, and imprudently resolved by the
presbyter. He laments that the Christian people, who had the same God,
the same religion, and the same worship, should be divided by such
inconsiderable distinctions; and he seriously recommend to the clergy of
Alexandria the example of the Greek philosophers; who could maintain
their arguments without losing their temper, and assert their freedom
without violating their friendship. The indifference and contempt of the
sovereign would have been, perhaps, the most effectual method of
silencing the dispute, if the popular current had been less rapid and
impetuous, and if Constantine himself, in the midst of faction and
fanaticism, could have preserved the calm possession of his own mind.
But his ecclesiastical ministers soon contrived to seduce the
impartiality of the magistrate, and to awaken the zeal of the proselyte.
He was provoked by the insults which had been offered to his statues; he
was alarmed by the real, as well as the imaginary magnitude of the
spreading mischief; and he extinguished the hope of peace and
toleration, from the moment that he assembled three hundred bishops
within the walls of the same palace. The presence of the monarch swelled
the importance of the debate; his attention multiplied the arguments;
and he exposed his person with a patient intrepidity, which animated the
valor of the combatants. Notwithstanding the applause which has been
bestowed on the eloquence and sagacity of Constantine,  a Roman general,
whose religion might be still a subject of doubt, and whose mind had not
been enlightened either by study or by inspiration, was indifferently
qualified to discuss, in the Greek language, a metaphysical question, or
an article of faith. But the credit of his favorite Osius, who appears
to have presided in the council of Nice, might dispose the emperor in
favor of the orthodox party; and a well-timed insinuation, that the same
Eusebius of Nicomedia, who now protected the heretic, had lately
assisted the tyrant,  might exasperate him against their adversaries.
The Nicene creed was ratified by Constantine; and his firm declaration,
that those who resisted the divine judgment of the synod, must prepare
themselves for an immediate exile, annihilated the murmurs of a feeble
opposition; which, from seventeen, was almost instantly reduced to two,
protesting bishops. Eusebius of Cæsarea yielded a reluctant and
ambiguous consent to the Homoousion;  and the wavering conduct of the
Nicomedian Eusebius served only to delay, about three months, his
disgrace and exile.  The impious Arius was banished into one of the
remote provinces of Illyricum; his person and disciples were branded by
law with the odious name of Porphyrians; his writings were condemned to
the flames, and a capital punishment was denounced against those in
whose possession they should be found. The emperor had now imbibed the
spirit of controversy, and the angry, sarcastic style of his edicts was
designed to inspire his subjects with the hatred which he had conceived
against the enemies of Christ.

But, as if the conduct of the emperor had been guided by passion instead
of principle, three years from the council of Nice were scarcely elapsed
before he discovered some symptoms of mercy, and even of indulgence,
towards the proscribed sect, which was secretly protected by his
favorite sister. The exiles were recalled, and Eusebius, who gradually
resumed his influence over the mind of Constantine, was restored to the
episcopal throne, from which he had been ignominiously degraded. Arius
himself was treated by the whole court with the respect which would have
been due to an innocent and oppressed man. His faith was approved by the
synod of Jerusalem; and the emperor seemed impatient to repair his
injustice, by issuing an absolute command, that he should be solemnly
admitted to the communion in the cathedral of Constantinople. On the
same day, which had been fixed for the triumph of Arius, he expired; and
the strange and horrid circumstances of his death might excite a
suspicion, that the orthodox saints had contributed more efficaciously
than by their prayers, to deliver the church from the most formidable of
her enemies.  The three principal leaders of the Catholics, Athanasius
of Alexandria, Eustathius of Antioch, and Paul of Constantinople were
deposed on various f accusations, by the sentence of numerous councils;
and were afterwards banished into distant provinces by the first of the
Christian emperors, who, in the last moments of his life, received the
rites of baptism from the Arian bishop of Nicomedia. The ecclesiastical
government of Constantine cannot be justified from the reproach of
levity and weakness. But the credulous monarch, unskilled in the
stratagems of theological warfare, might be deceived by the modest and
specious professions of the heretics, whose sentiments he never
perfectly understood; and while he protected Arius, and persecuted
Athanasius, he still considered the council of Nice as the bulwark of
the Christian faith, and the peculiar glory of his own reign.

The sons of Constantine must have been admitted from their childhood
into the rank of catechumens; but they imitated, in the delay of their
baptism, the example of their father. Like him they presumed to
pronounce their judgment on mysteries into which they had never been
regularly initiated;  and the fate of the Trinitarian controversy
depended, in a great measure, on the sentiments of Constantius; who
inherited the provinces of the East, and acquired the possession of the
whole empire. The Arian presbyter or bishop, who had secreted for his
use the testament of the deceased emperor, improved the fortunate
occasion which had introduced him to the familiarity of a prince, whose
public counsels were always swayed by his domestic favorites. The
eunuchs and slaves diffused the spiritual poison through the palace, and
the dangerous infection was communicated by the female attendants to the
guards, and by the empress to her unsuspicious husband.  The partiality
which Constantius always expressed towards the Eusebian faction, was
insensibly fortified by the dexterous management of their leaders; and
his victory over the tyrant Magnentius increased his inclination, as
well as ability, to employ the arms of power in the cause of Arianism.
While the two armies were engaged in the plains of Mursa, and the fate
of the two rivals depended on the chance of war, the son of Constantine
passed the anxious moments in a church of the martyrs under the walls of
the city. His spiritual comforter, Valens, the Arian bishop of the
diocese, employed the most artful precautions to obtain such early
intelligence as might secure either his favor or his escape. A secret
chain of swift and trusty messengers informed him of the vicissitudes of
the battle; and while the courtiers stood trembling round their
affrighted master, Valens assured him that the Gallic legions gave way;
and insinuated with some presence of mind, that the glorious event had
been revealed to him by an angel. The grateful emperor ascribed his
success to the merits and intercession of the bishop of Mursa, whose
faith had deserved the public and miraculous approbation of Heaven.  The
Arians, who considered as their own the victory of Constantius,
preferred his glory to that of his father.  Cyril, bishop of Jerusalem,
immediately composed the description of a celestial cross, encircled
with a splendid rainbow; which during the festival of Pentecost, about
the third hour of the day, had appeared over the Mount of Olives, to the
edification of the devout pilgrims, and the people of the holy city.
The size of the meteor was gradually magnified; and the Arian historian
has ventured to affirm, that it was conspicuous to the two armies in the
plains of Pannonia; and that the tyrant, who is purposely represented as
an idolater, fled before the auspicious sign of orthodox Christianity.

The sentiments of a judicious stranger, who has impartially considered
the progress of civil or ecclesiastical discord, are always entitled to
our notice; and a short passage of Ammianus, who served in the armies,
and studied the character of Constantius, is perhaps of more value than
many pages of theological invectives. "The Christian religion, which, in
itself," says that moderate historian, "is plain and simple,
heconfounded by the dotage of superstition. Instead of reconciling the
parties by the weight of his authority, he cherished and promulgated, by
verbal disputes, the differences which his vain curiosity had excited.
The highways were covered with troops of bishops galloping from every
side to the assemblies, which they call synods; and while they labored
to reduce the whole sect to their own particular opinions, the public
establishment of the posts was almost ruined by their hasty and repeated
journeys."  Our more intimate knowledge of the ecclesiastical
transactions of the reign of Constantius would furnish an ample
commentary on this remarkable passage, which justifies the rational
apprehensions of Athanasius, that the restless activity of the clergy,
who wandered round the empire in search of the true faith, would excite
the contempt and laughter of the unbelieving world.  As soon as the
emperor was relieved from the terrors of the civil war, he devoted the
leisure of his winter quarters at Arles, Milan, Sirmium, and
Constantinople, to the amusement or toils of controversy: the sword of
the magistrate, and even of the tyrant, was unsheathed, to enforce the
reasons of the theologian; and as he opposed the orthodox faith of Nice,
it is readily confessed that his incapacity and ignorance were equal to
his presumption.  The eunuchs, the women, and the bishops, who governed
the vain and feeble mind of the emperor, had inspired him with an
insuperable dislike to the Homoousion; but his timid conscience was
alarmed by the impiety of Ætius. The guilt of that atheist was
aggravated by the suspicious favor of the unfortunate Gallus; and even
the death of the Imperial ministers, who had been massacred at Antioch,
were imputed to the suggestions of that dangerous sophist. The mind of
Constantius, which could neither be moderated by reason, nor fixed by
faith, was blindly impelled to either side of the dark and empty abyss,
by his horror of the opposite extreme; he alternately embraced and
condemned the sentiments, he successively banished and recalled the
leaders, of the Arian and Semi-Arian factions.  During the season of
public business or festivity, he employed whole days, and even nights,
in selecting the words, and weighing the syllables, which composed his
fluctuating creeds. The subject of his meditations still pursued and
occupied his slumbers: the incoherent dreams of the emperor were
received as celestial visions, and he accepted with complacency the
lofty title of bishop of bishops, from those ecclesiastics who forgot
the interest of their order for the gratification of their passions. The
design of establishing a uniformity of doctrine, which had engaged him
to convene so many synods in Gaul, Italy, Illyricum, and Asia, was
repeatedly baffled by his own levity, by the divisions of the Arians,
and by the resistance of the Catholics; and he resolved, as the last and
decisive effort, imperiously to dictate the decrees of a general
council. The destructive earthquake of Nicomedia, the difficulty of
finding a convenient place, and perhaps some secret motives of policy,
produced an alteration in the summons. The bishops of the East were
directed to meet at Seleucia, in Isauria; while those of the West held
their deliberations at Rimini, on the coast of the Hadriatic; and
instead of two or three deputies from each province, the whole episcopal
body was ordered to march. The Eastern council, after consuming four
days in fierce and unavailing debate, separated without any definitive
conclusion. The council of the West was protracted till the seventh
month. Taurus, the Prætorian præfect was instructed not to dismiss the
prelates till they should all be united in the same opinion; and his
efforts were supported by the power of banishing fifteen of the most
refractory, and a promise of the consulship if he achieved so difficult
an adventure. His prayers and threats, the authority of the sovereign,
the sophistry of Valens and Ursacius, the distress of cold and hunger,
and the tedious melancholy of a hopeless exile, at length extorted the
reluctant consent of the bishops of Rimini. The deputies of the East and
of the West attended the emperor in the palace of Constantinople, and he
enjoyed the satisfaction of imposing on the world a profession of faith
which established the likeness, without expressing the
consubstantiality, of the Son of God.  But the triumph of Arianism had
been preceded by the removal of the orthodox clergy, whom it was
impossible either to intimidate or to corrupt; and the reign of
Constantius was disgraced by the unjust and ineffectual persecution of
the great Athanasius.

We have seldom an opportunity of observing, either in active or
speculative life, what effect may be produced, or what obstacles may be
surmounted, by the force of a single mind, when it is inflexibly applied
to the pursuit of a single object. The immortal name of Athanasius  will
never be separated from the Catholic doctrine of the Trinity, to whose
defence he consecrated every moment and every faculty of his being.
Educated in the family of Alexander, he had vigorously opposed the early
progress of the Arian heresy: he exercised the important functions of
secretary under the aged prelate; and the fathers of the Nicene council
beheld with surprise and respect the rising virtues of the young deacon.
In a time of public danger, the dull claims of age and of rank are
sometimes superseded; and within five months after his return from Nice,
the deacon Athanasius was seated on the archiepiscopal throne of Egypt.
He filled that eminent station above forty-six years, and his long
administration was spent in a perpetual combat against the powers of
Arianism. Five times was Athanasius expelled from his throne; twenty
years he passed as an exile or a fugitive: and almost every province of
the Roman empire was successively witness to his merit, and his
sufferings in the cause of the Homoousion, which he considered as the
sole pleasure and business, as the duty, and as the glory of his life.
Amidst the storms of persecution, the archbishop of Alexandria was
patient of labor, jealous of fame, careless of safety; and although his
mind was tainted by the contagion of fanaticism, Athanasius displayed a
superiority of character and abilities, which would have qualified him,
far better than the degenerate sons of Constantine, for the government
of a great monarchy. His learning was much less profound and extensive
than that of Eusebius of Cæsarea, and his rude eloquence could not be
compared with the polished oratory of Gregory of Basil; but whenever the
primate of Egypt was called upon to justify his sentiments, or his
conduct, his unpremeditated style, either of speaking or writing, was
clear, forcible, and persuasive. He has always been revered, in the
orthodox school, as one of the most accurate masters of the Christian
theology; and he was supposed to possess two profane sciences, less
adapted to the episcopal character, the knowledge of jurisprudence,  and
that of divination.  Some fortunate conjectures of future events, which
impartial reasoners might ascribe to the experience and judgment of
Athanasius, were attributed by his friends to heavenly inspiration, and
imputed by his enemies to infernal magic.

But as Athanasius was continually engaged with the prejudices and
passions of every order of men, from the monk to the emperor, the
knowledge of human nature was his first and most important science. He
preserved a distinct and unbroken view of a scene which was incessantly
shifting; and never failed to improve those decisive moments which are
irrecoverably past before they are perceived by a common eye. The
archbishop of Alexandria was capable of distinguishing how far he might
boldly command, and where he must dexterously insinuate; how long he
might contend with power, and when he must withdraw from persecution;
and while he directed the thunders of the church against heresy and
rebellion, he could assume, in the bosom of his own party, the flexible
and indulgent temper of a prudent leader. The election of Athanasius has
not escaped the reproach of irregularity and precipitation;  but the
propriety of his behavior conciliated the affections both of the clergy
and of the people. The Alexandrians were impatient to rise in arms for
the defence of an eloquent and liberal pastor. In his distress he always
derived support, or at least consolation, from the faithful attachment
of his parochial clergy; and the hundred bishops of Egypt adhered, with
unshaken zeal, to the cause of Athanasius. In the modest equipage which
pride and policy would affect, he frequently performed the episcopal
visitation of his provinces, from the mouth of the Nile to the confines
of Æthiopia; familiarly conversing with the meanest of the populace, and
humbly saluting the saints and hermits of the desert.  Nor was it only
in ecclesiastical assemblies, among men whose education and manners were
similar to his own, that Athanasius displayed the ascendancy of his
genius. He appeared with easy and respectful firmness in the courts of
princes; and in the various turns of his prosperous and adverse fortune
he never lost the confidence of his friends, or the esteem of his
enemies.

In his youth, the primate of Egypt resisted the great Constantine, who
had repeatedly signified his will, that Arius should be restored to the
Catholic communion.  The emperor respected, and might forgive, this
inflexible resolution; and the faction who considered Athanasius as
their most formidable enemy, was constrained to dissemble their hatred,
and silently to prepare an indirect and distant assault. They scattered
rumors and suspicions, represented the archbishop as a proud and
oppressive tyrant, and boldly accused him of violating the treaty which
had been ratified in the Nicene council, with the schismatic followers
of Meletius.  Athanasius had openly disapproved that ignominious peace,
and the emperor was disposed to believe that he had abused his
ecclesiastical and civil power, to prosecute those odious sectaries:
that he had sacrilegiously broken a chalice in one of their churches of
Mareotis; that he had whipped or imprisoned six of their bishops; and
that Arsenius, a seventh bishop of the same party, had been murdered, or
at least mutilated, by the cruel hand of the primate.  These charges,
which affected his honor and his life, were referred by Constantine to
his brother Dalmatius the censor, who resided at Antioch; the synods of
Cæsarea and Tyre were successively convened; and the bishops of the East
were instructed to judge the cause of Athanasius, before they proceeded
to consecrate the new church of the Resurrection at Jerusalem. The
primate might be conscious of his innocence; but he was sensible that
the same implacable spirit which had dictated the accusation, would
direct the proceeding, and pronounce the sentence. He prudently declined
the tribunal of his enemies; despised the summons of the synod of
Cæsarea; and, after a long and artful delay, submitted to the peremptory
commands of the emperor, who threatened to punish his criminal
disobedience if he refused to appear in the council of Tyre.  Before
Athanasius, at the head of fifty Egyptian prelates, sailed from
Alexandria, he had wisely secured the alliance of the Meletians; and
Arsenius himself, his imaginary victim, and his secret friend, was
privately concealed in his train. The synod of Tyre was conducted by
Eusebius of Cæsarea, with more passion, and with less art, than his
learning and experience might promise; his numerous faction repeated the
names of homicide and tyrant; and their clamors were encouraged by the
seeming patience of Athanasius, who expected the decisive moment to
produce Arsenius alive and unhurt in the midst of the assembly. The
nature of the other charges did not admit of such clear and satisfactory
replies; yet the archbishop was able to prove, that in the village,
where he was accused of breaking a consecrated chalice, neither church
nor altar nor chalice could really exist. The Arians, who had secretly
determined the guilt and condemnation of their enemy, attempted,
however, to disguise their injustice by the imitation of judicial forms:
the synod appointed an episcopal commission of six delegates to collect
evidence on the spot; and this measure which was vigorously opposed by
the Egyptian bishops, opened new scenes of violence and perjury.  After
the return of the deputies from Alexandria, the majority of the council
pronounced the final sentence of degradation and exile against the
primate of Egypt. The decree, expressed in the fiercest language of
malice and revenge, was communicated to the emperor and the Catholic
church; and the bishops immediately resumed a mild and devout aspect,
such as became their holy pilgrimage to the Sepulchre of Christ.

Chapter XXI: Persecution Of Heresy, State Of The Church. -- Part V.

But the injustice of these ecclesiastical judges had not been
countenanced by the submission, or even by the presence, of Athanasius.
He resolved to make a bold and dangerous experiment, whether the throne
was inaccessible to the voice of truth; and before the final sentence
could be pronounced at Tyre, the intrepid primate threw himself into a
bark which was ready to hoist sail for the Imperial city. The request of
a formal audience might have been opposed or eluded; but Athanasius
concealed his arrival, watched the moment of Constantine's return from
an adjacent villa, and boldly encountered his angry sovereign as he
passed on horseback through the principal street of Constantinople. So
strange an apparition excited his surprise and indignation; and the
guards were ordered to remove the importunate suitor; but his resentment
was subdued by involuntary respect; and the haughty spirit of the
emperor was awed by the courage and eloquence of a bishop, who implored
his justice and awakened his conscience.  Constantine listened to the
complaints of Athanasius with impartial and even gracious attention; the
members of the synod of Tyre were summoned to justify their proceedings;
and the arts of the Eusebian faction would have been confounded, if they
had not aggravated the guilt of the primate, by the dexterous
supposition of an unpardonable offence; a criminal design to intercept
and detain the corn-fleet of Alexandria, which supplied the subsistence
of the new capital.  The emperor was satisfied that the peace of Egypt
would be secured by the absence of a popular leader; but he refused to
fill the vacancy of the archiepiscopal throne; and the sentence, which,
after long hesitation, he pronounced, was that of a jealous ostracism,
rather than of an ignominious exile. In the remote province of Gaul, but
in the hospitable court of Treves, Athanasius passed about twenty eight
months. The death of the emperor changed the face of public affairs and,
amidst the general indulgence of a young reign, the primate was restored
to his country by an honorable edict of the younger Constantine, who
expressed a deep sense of the innocence and merit of his venerable
guest.

The death of that prince exposed Athanasius to a second persecution; and
the feeble Constantius, the sovereign of the East, soon became the
secret accomplice of the Eusebians. Ninety bishops of that sect or
faction assembled at Antioch, under the specious pretence of dedicating
the cathedral. They composed an ambiguous creed, which is faintly tinged
with the colors of Semi-Arianism, and twenty-five canons, which still
regulate the discipline of the orthodox Greeks.  It was decided, with
some appearance of equity, that a bishop, deprived by a synod, should
not resume his episcopal functions till he had been absolved by the
judgment of an equal synod; the law was immediately applied to the case
of Athanasius; the council of Antioch pronounced, or rather confirmed,
his degradation: a stranger, named Gregory, was seated on his throne;
and Philagrius,  the præfect of Egypt, was instructed to support the new
primate with the civil and military powers of the province. Oppressed by
the conspiracy of the Asiatic prelates, Athanasius withdrew from
Alexandria, and passed three years  as an exile and a suppliant on the
holy threshold of the Vatican.  By the assiduous study of the Latin
language, he soon qualified himself to negotiate with the western
clergy; his decent flattery swayed and directed the haughty Julius; the
Roman pontiff was persuaded to consider his appeal as the peculiar
interest of the Apostolic see: and his innocence was unanimously
declared in a council of fifty bishops of Italy. At the end of three
years, the primate was summoned to the court of Milan by the emperor
Constans, who, in the indulgence of unlawful pleasures, still professed
a lively regard for the orthodox faith. The cause of truth and justice
was promoted by the influence of gold,  and the ministers of Constans
advised their sovereign to require the convocation of an ecclesiastical
assembly, which might act as the representatives of the Catholic church.
Ninety-four bishops of the West, seventy-six bishops of the East,
encountered each other at Sardica, on the verge of the two empires, but
in the dominions of the protector of Athanasius. Their debates soon
degenerated into hostile altercations; the Asiatics, apprehensive for
their personal safety, retired to Philippopolis in Thrace; and the rival
synods reciprocally hurled their spiritual thunders against their
enemies, whom they piously condemned as the enemies of the true God.
Their decrees were published and ratified in their respective provinces:
and Athanasius, who in the West was revered as a saint, was exposed as a
criminal to the abhorrence of the East.  The council of Sardica reveals
the first symptoms of discord and schism between the Greek and Latin
churches which were separated by the accidental difference of faith, and
the permanent distinction of language.

During his second exile in the West, Athanasius was frequently admitted
to the Imperial presence; at Capua, Lodi, Milan, Verona, Padua,
Aquileia, and Treves. The bishop of the diocese usually assisted at
these interviews; the master of the offices stood before the veil or
curtain of the sacred apartment; and the uniform moderation of the
primate might be attested by these respectable witnesses, to whose
evidence he solemnly appeals.  Prudence would undoubtedly suggest the
mild and respectful tone that became a subject and a bishop. In these
familiar conferences with the sovereign of the West, Athanasius might
lament the error of Constantius, but he boldly arraigned the guilt of
his eunuchs and his Arian prelates; deplored the distress and danger of
the Catholic church; and excited Constans to emulate the zeal and glory
of his father. The emperor declared his resolution of employing the
troops and treasures of Europe in the orthodox cause; and signified, by
a concise and peremptory epistle to his brother Constantius, that unless
he consented to the immediate restoration of Athanasius, he himself,
with a fleet and army, would seat the archbishop on the throne of
Alexandria.  But this religious war, so horrible to nature, was
prevented by the timely compliance of Constantius; and the emperor of
the East condescended to solicit a reconciliation with a subject whom he
had injured. Athanasius waited with decent pride, till he had received
three successive epistles full of the strongest assurances of the
protection, the favor, and the esteem of his sovereign; who invited him
to resume his episcopal seat, and who added the humiliating precaution
of engaging his principal ministers to attest the sincerity of his
intentions. They were manifested in a still more public manner, by the
strict orders which were despatched into Egypt to recall the adherents
of Athanasius, to restore their privileges, to proclaim their innocence,
and to erase from the public registers the illegal proceedings which had
been obtained during the prevalence of the Eusebian faction. After every
satisfaction and security had been given, which justice or even delicacy
could require, the primate proceeded, by slow journeys, through the
provinces of Thrace, Asia, and Syria; and his progress was marked by the
abject homage of the Oriental bishops, who excited his contempt without
deceiving his penetration.  At Antioch he saw the emperor Constantius;
sustained, with modest firmness, the embraces and protestations of his
master, and eluded the proposal of allowing the Arians a single church
at Alexandria, by claiming, in the other cities of the empire, a similar
toleration for his own party; a reply which might have appeared just and
moderate in the mouth of an independent prince. The entrance of the
archbishop into his capital was a triumphal procession; absence and
persecution had endeared him to the Alexandrians; his authority, which
he exercised with rigor, was more firmly established; and his fame was
diffused from Æthiopia to Britain, over the whole extent of the
Christian world.

But the subject who has reduced his prince to the necessity of
dissembling, can never expect a sincere and lasting forgiveness; and the
tragic fate of Constans soon deprived Athanasius of a powerful and
generous protector. The civil war between the assassin and the only
surviving brother of Constans, which afflicted the empire above three
years, secured an interval of repose to the Catholic church; and the two
contending parties were desirous to conciliate the friendship of a
bishop, who, by the weight of his personal authority, might determine
the fluctuating resolutions of an important province. He gave audience
to the ambassadors of the tyrant, with whom he was afterwards accused of
holding a secret correspondence;  and the emperor Constantius repeatedly
assured his dearest father, the most reverend Athanasius, that,
notwithstanding the malicious rumors which were circulated by their
common enemies, he had inherited the sentiments, as well as the throne,
of his deceased brother.  Gratitude and humanity would have disposed the
primate of Egypt to deplore the untimely fate of Constans, and to abhor
the guilt of Magnentius; but as he clearly understood that the
apprehensions of Constantius were his only safeguard, the fervor of his
prayers for the success of the righteous cause might perhaps be somewhat
abated. The ruin of Athanasius was no longer contrived by the obscure
malice of a few bigoted or angry bishops, who abused the authority of a
credulous monarch. The monarch himself avowed the resolution, which he
had so long suppressed, of avenging his private injuries;  and the first
winter after his victory, which he passed at Arles, was employed against
an enemy more odious to him than the vanquished tyrant of Gaul.

If the emperor had capriciously decreed the death of the most eminent
and virtuous citizen of the republic, the cruel order would have been
executed without hesitation, by the ministers of open violence or of
specious injustice. The caution, the delay, the difficulty with which he
proceeded in the condemnation and punishment of a popular bishop,
discovered to the world that the privileges of the church had already
revived a sense of order and freedom in the Roman government. The
sentence which was pronounced in the synod of Tyre, and subscribed by a
large majority of the Eastern bishops, had never been expressly
repealed; and as Athanasius had been once degraded from his episcopal
dignity by the judgment of his brethren, every subsequent act might be
considered as irregular, and even criminal. But the memory of the firm
and effectual support which the primate of Egypt had derived from the
attachment of the Western church, engaged Constantius to suspend the
execution of the sentence till he had obtained the concurrence of the
Latin bishops. Two years were consumed in ecclesiastical negotiations;
and the important cause between the emperor and one of his subjects was
solemnly debated, first in the synod of Arles, and afterwards in the
great council of Milan,  which consisted of above three hundred bishops.
Their integrity was gradually undermined by the arguments of the Arians,
the dexterity of the eunuchs, and the pressing solicitations of a prince
who gratified his revenge at the expense of his dignity, and exposed his
own passions, whilst he influenced those of the clergy. Corruption, the
most infallible symptom of constitutional liberty, was successfully
practised; honors, gifts, and immunities were offered and accepted as
the price of an episcopal vote;  and the condemnation of the Alexandrian
primate was artfully represented as the only measure which could restore
the peace and union of the Catholic church. The friends of Athanasius
were not, however, wanting to their leader, or to their cause. With a
manly spirit, which the sanctity of their character rendered less
dangerous, they maintained, in public debate, and in private conference
with the emperor, the eternal obligation of religion and justice. They
declared, that neither the hope of his favor, nor the fear of his
displeasure, should prevail on them to join in the condemnation of an
absent, an innocent, a respectable brother.  They affirmed, with
apparent reason, that the illegal and obsolete decrees of the council of
Tyre had long since been tacitly abolished by the Imperial edicts, the
honorable reestablishment of the archbishop of Alexandria, and the
silence or recantation of his most clamorous adversaries. They alleged,
that his innocence had been attested by the unanimous bishops of Egypt,
and had been acknowledged in the councils of Rome and Sardica,  by the
impartial judgment of the Latin church. They deplored the hard condition
of Athanasius, who, after enjoying so many years his seat, his
reputation, and the seeming confidence of his sovereign, was again
called upon to confute the most groundless and extravagant accusations.
Their language was specious; their conduct was honorable: but in this
long and obstinate contest, which fixed the eyes of the whole empire on
a single bishop, the ecclesiastical factions were prepared to sacrifice
truth and justice to the more interesting object of defending or
removing the intrepid champion of the Nicene faith. The Arians still
thought it prudent to disguise, in ambiguous language, their real
sentiments and designs; but the orthodox bishops, armed with the favor
of the people, and the decrees of a general council, insisted on every
occasion, and particularly at Milan, that their adversaries should purge
themselves from the suspicion of heresy, before they presumed to arraign
the conduct of the great Athanasius.

But the voice of reason (if reason was indeed on the side of Athanasius)
was silenced by the clamors of a factious or venal majority; and the
councils of Arles and Milan were not dissolved, till the archbishop of
Alexandria had been solemnly condemned and deposed by the judgment of
the Western, as well as of the Eastern, church. The bishops who had
opposed, were required to subscribe, the sentence, and to unite in
religious communion with the suspected leaders of the adverse party. A
formulary of consent was transmitted by the messengers of state to the
absent bishops: and all those who refused to submit their private
opinion to the public and inspired wisdom of the councils of Arles and
Milan, were immediately banished by the emperor, who affected to execute
the decrees of the Catholic church. Among those prelates who led the
honorable band of confessors and exiles, Liberius of Rome, Osius of
Cordova, Paulinus of Treves, Dionysius of Milan, Eusebius of Vercellæ,
Lucifer of Cagliari and Hilary of Poitiers, may deserve to be
particularly distinguished. The eminent station of Liberius, who
governed the capital of the empire; the personal merit and long
experience of the venerable Osius, who was revered as the favorite of
the great Constantine, and the father of the Nicene faith, placed those
prelates at the head of the Latin church: and their example, either of
submission or resistance, would probable be imitated by the episcopal
crowd. But the repeated attempts of the emperor to seduce or to
intimidate the bishops of Rome and Cordova, were for some time
ineffectual. The Spaniard declared himself ready to suffer under
Constantius, as he had suffered threescore years before under his
grandfather Maximian. The Roman, in the presence of his sovereign,
asserted the innocence of Athanasius and his own freedom. When he was
banished to Beræa in Thrace, he sent back a large sum which had been
offered for the accommodation of his journey; and insulted the court of
Milan by the haughty remark, that the emperor and his eunuchs might want
that gold to pay their soldiers and their bishops.  The resolution of
Liberius and Osius was at length subdued by the hardships of exile and
confinement. The Roman pontiff purchased his return by some criminal
compliances; and afterwards expiated his guilt by a seasonable
repentance. Persuasion and violence were employed to extort the
reluctant signature of the decrepit bishop of Cordova, whose strength
was broken, and whose faculties were perhaps impaired by the weight of a
hundred years; and the insolent triumph of the Arians provoked some of
the orthodox party to treat with inhuman severity the character, or
rather the memory, of an unfortunate old man, to whose former services
Christianity itself was so deeply indebted.

The fall of Liberius and Osius reflected a brighter lustre on the
firmness of those bishops who still adhered, with unshaken fidelity, to
the cause of Athanasius and religious truth. The ingenious malice of
their enemies had deprived them of the benefit of mutual comfort and
advice, separated those illustrious exiles into distant provinces, and
carefully selected the most inhospitable spots of a great empire.  Yet
they soon experienced that the deserts of Libya, and the most barbarous
tracts of Cappadocia, were less inhospitable than the residence of those
cities in which an Arian bishop could satiate, without restraint, the
exquisite rancor of theological hatred.  Their consolation was derived
from the consciousness of rectitude and independence, from the applause,
the visits, the letters, and the liberal alms of their adherents,  and
from the satisfaction which they soon enjoyed of observing the intestine
divisions of the adversaries of the Nicene faith. Such was the nice and
capricious taste of the emperor Constantius; and so easily was he
offended by the slightest deviation from his imaginary standard of
Christian truth, that he persecuted, with equal zeal, those who defended
the consubstantiality, those who asserted the similarsubstance, and
those who denied the likenessof the Son of God. Three bishops, degraded
and banished for those adverse opinions, might possibly meet in the same
place of exile; and, according to the difference of their temper, might
either pity or insult the blind enthusiasm of their antagonists, whose
present sufferings would never be compensated by future happiness.

The disgrace and exile of the orthodox bishops of the West were designed
as so many preparatory steps to the ruin of Athanasius himself.
Six-and-twenty months had elapsed, during which the Imperial court
secretly labored, by the most insidious arts, to remove him from
Alexandria, and to withdraw the allowance which supplied his popular
liberality. But when the primate of Egypt, deserted and proscribed by
the Latin church, was left destitute of any foreign support, Constantius
despatched two of his secretaries with a verbal commission to announce
and execute the order of his banishment. As the justice of the sentence
was publicly avowed by the whole party, the only motive which could
restrain Constantius from giving his messengers the sanction of a
written mandate, must be imputed to his doubt of the event; and to a
sense of the danger to which he might expose the second city, and the
most fertile province, of the empire, if the people should persist in
the resolution of defending, by force of arms, the innocence of their
spiritual father. Such extreme caution afforded Athanasius a specious
pretence respectfully to dispute the truth of an order, which he could
not reconcile, either with the equity, or with the former declarations,
of his gracious master. The civil powers of Egypt found themselves
inadequate to the task of persuading or compelling the primate to
abdicate his episcopal throne; and they were obliged to conclude a
treaty with the popular leaders of Alexandria, by which it was
stipulated, that all proceedings and all hostilities should be suspended
till the emperor's pleasure had been more distinctly ascertained. By
this seeming moderation, the Catholics were deceived into a false and
fatal security; while the legions of the Upper Egypt, and of Libya,
advanced, by secret orders and hasty marches, to besiege, or rather to
surprise, a capital habituated to sedition, and inflamed by religious
zeal.  The position of Alexandria, between the sea and the Lake
Mareotis, facilitated the approach and landing of the troops; who were
introduced into the heart of the city, before any effectual measures
could be taken either to shut the gates or to occupy the important posts
of defence. At the hour of midnight, twenty-three days after the
signature of the treaty, Syrianus, duke of Egypt, at the head of five
thousand soldiers, armed and prepared for an assault, unexpectedly
invested the church of St. Theonas, where the archbishop, with a part of
his clergy and people, performed their nocturnal devotions. The doors of
the sacred edifice yielded to the impetuosity of the attack, which was
accompanied with every horrid circumstance of tumult and bloodshed; but,
as the bodies of the slain, and the fragments of military weapons,
remained the next day an unexceptionable evidence in the possession of
the Catholics, the enterprise of Syrianus may be considered as a
successful irruption rather than as an absolute conquest. The other
churches of the city were profaned by similar outrages; and, during at
least four months, Alexandria was exposed to the insults of a licentious
army, stimulated by the ecclesiastics of a hostile faction. Many of the
faithful were killed; who may deserve the name of martyrs, if their
deaths were neither provoked nor revenged; bishops and presbyters were
treated with cruel ignominy; consecrated virgins were stripped naked,
scourged and violated; the houses of wealthy citizens were plundered;
and, under the mask of religious zeal, lust, avarice, and private
resentment were gratified with impunity, and even with applause. The
Pagans of Alexandria, who still formed a numerous and discontented
party, were easily persuaded to desert a bishop whom they feared and
esteemed. The hopes of some peculiar favors, and the apprehension of
being involved in the general penalties of rebellion, engaged them to
promise their support to the destined successor of Athanasius, the
famous George of Cappadocia. The usurper, after receiving the
consecration of an Arian synod, was placed on the episcopal throne by
the arms of Sebastian, who had been appointed Count of Egypt for the
execution of that important design. In the use, as well as in the
acquisition, of power, the tyrant, George disregarded the laws of
religion, of justice, and of humanity; and the same scenes of violence
and scandal which had been exhibited in the capital, were repeated in
more than ninety episcopal cities of Egypt. Encouraged by success,
Constantius ventured to approve the conduct of his minister. By a public
and passionate epistle, the emperor congratulates the deliverance of
Alexandria from a popular tyrant, who deluded his blind votaries by the
magic of his eloquence; expatiates on the virtues and piety of the most
reverend George, the elected bishop; and aspires, as the patron and
benefactor of the city to surpass the fame of Alexander himself. But he
solemnly declares his unalterable resolution to pursue with fire and
sword the seditious adherents of the wicked Athanasius, who, by flying
from justice, has confessed his guilt, and escaped the ignominious death
which he had so often deserved.

Chapter XXI: Persecution Of Heresy, State Of The Church. -- Part VI.

Athanasius had indeed escaped from the most imminent dangers; and the
adventures of that extraordinary man deserve and fix our attention. On
the memorable night when the church of St. Theonas was invested by the
troops of Syrianus, the archbishop, seated on his throne, expected, with
calm and intrepid dignity, the approach of death. While the public
devotion was interrupted by shouts of rage and cries of terror, he
animated his trembling congregation to express their religious
confidence, by chanting one of the psalms of David which celebrates the
triumph of the God of Isræl over the haughty and impious tyrant of
Egypt. The doors were at length burst open: a cloud of arrows was
discharged among the people; the soldiers, with drawn swords, rushed
forwards into the sanctuary; and the dreadful gleam of their arms was
reflected by the holy luminaries which burnt round the altar.
Athanasius still rejected the pious importunity of the monks and
presbyters, who were attached to his person; and nobly refused to desert
his episcopal station, till he had dismissed in safety the last of the
congregation. The darkness and tumult of the night favored the retreat
of the archbishop; and though he was oppressed by the waves of an
agitated multitude, though he was thrown to the ground, and left without
sense or motion, he still recovered his undaunted courage, and eluded
the eager search of the soldiers, who were instructed by their Arian
guides, that the head of Athanasius would be the most acceptable present
to the emperor. From that moment the primate of Egypt disappeared from
the eyes of his enemies, and remained above six years concealed in
impenetrable obscurity.

The despotic power of his implacable enemy filled the whole extent of
the Roman world; and the exasperated monarch had endeavored, by a very
pressing epistle to the Christian princes of Ethiopia, * to exclude
Athanasius from the most remote and sequestered regions of the earth.
Counts, præfects, tribunes, whole armies, were successively employed to
pursue a bishop and a fugitive; the vigilance of the civil and military
powers was excited by the Imperial edicts; liberal rewards were promised
to the man who should produce Athanasius, either alive or dead; and the
most severe penalties were denounced against those who should dare to
protect the public enemy.  But the deserts of Thebais were now peopled
by a race of wild, yet submissive fanatics, who preferred the commands
of their abbot to the laws of their sovereign. The numerous disciples of
Antony and Pachomius received the fugitive primate as their father,
admired the patience and humility with which he conformed to their
strictest institutions, collected every word which dropped from his lips
as the genuine effusions of inspired wisdom; and persuaded themselves
that their prayers, their fasts, and their vigils, were less meritorious
than the zeal which they expressed, and the dangers which they braved,
in the defence of truth and innocence.  The monasteries of Egypt were
seated in lonely and desolate places, on the summit of mountains, or in
the islands of the Nile; and the sacred horn or trumpet of Tabenne was
the well-known signal which assembled several thousand robust and
determined monks, who, for the most part, had been the peasants of the
adjacent country. When their dark retreats were invaded by a military
force, which it was impossible to resist, they silently stretched out
their necks to the executioner; and supported their national character,
that tortures could never wrest from an Egyptian the confession of a
secret which he was resolved not to disclose.  The archbishop of
Alexandria, for whose safety they eagerly devoted their lives, was lost
among a uniform and well-disciplined multitude; and on the nearer
approach of danger, he was swiftly removed, by their officious hands,
from one place of concealment to another, till he reached the formidable
deserts, which the gloomy and credulous temper of superstition had
peopled with dæmons and savage monsters. The retirement of Athanasius,
which ended only with the life of Constantius, was spent, for the most
part, in the society of the monks, who faithfully served him as guards,
as secretaries, and as messengers; but the importance of maintaining a
more intimate connection with the Catholic party tempted him, whenever
the diligence of the pursuit was abated, to emerge from the desert, to
introduce himself into Alexandria, and to trust his person to the
discretion of his friends and adherents. His various adventures might
have furnished the subject of a very entertaining romance. He was once
secreted in a dry cistern, which he had scarcely left before he was
betrayed by the treachery of a female slave;  and he was once concealed
in a still more extraordinary asylum, the house of a virgin, only twenty
years of age, and who was celebrated in the whole city for her exquisite
beauty. At the hour of midnight, as she related the story many years
afterwards, she was surprised by the appearance of the archbishop in a
loose undress, who, advancing with hasty steps, conjured her to afford
him the protection which he had been directed by a celestial vision to
seek under her hospitable roof. The pious maid accepted and preserved
the sacred pledge which was intrusted to her prudence and courage.
Without imparting the secret to any one, she instantly conducted
Athanasius into her most secret chamber, and watched over his safety
with the tenderness of a friend and the assiduity of a servant. As long
as the danger continued, she regularly supplied him with books and
provisions, washed his feet, managed his correspondence, and dexterously
concealed from the eye of suspicion this familiar and solitary
intercourse between a saint whose character required the most
unblemished chastity, and a female whose charms might excite the most
dangerous emotions.  During the six years of persecution and exile,
Athanasius repeated his visits to his fair and faithful companion; and
the formal declaration, that he sawthe councils of Rimini and Seleucia,
forces us to believe that he was secretly present at the time and place
of their convocation. The advantage of personally negotiating with his
friends, and of observing and improving the divisions of his enemies,
might justify, in a prudent statesman, so bold and dangerous an
enterprise: and Alexandria was connected by trade and navigation with
every seaport of the Mediterranean. From the depth of his inaccessible
retreat the intrepid primate waged an incessant and offensive war
against the protector of the Arians; and his seasonable writings, which
were diligently circulated and eagerly perused, contributed to unite and
animate the orthodox party. In his public apologies, which he addressed
to the emperor himself, he sometimes affected the praise of moderation;
whilst at the same time, in secret and vehement invectives, he exposed
Constantius as a weak and wicked prince, the executioner of his family,
the tyrant of the republic, and the Antichrist of the church. In the
height of his prosperity, the victorious monarch, who had chastised the
rashness of Gallus, and suppressed the revolt of Sylvanus, who had taken
the diadem from the head of Vetranio, and vanquished in the field the
legions of Magnentius, received from an invisible hand a wound, which he
could neither heal nor revenge; and the son of Constantine was the first
of the Christian princes who experienced the strength of those
principles, which, in the cause of religion, could resist the most
violent exertions  of the civil power.

The persecution of Athanasius, and of so many respectable bishops, who
suffered for the truth of their opinions, or at least for the integrity
of their conscience, was a just subject of indignation and discontent to
all Christians, except those who were blindly devoted to the Arian
faction. The people regretted the loss of their faithful pastors, whose
banishment was usually followed by the intrusion of a stranger  into the
episcopal chair; and loudly complained, that the right of election was
violated, and that they were condemned to obey a mercenary usurper,
whose person was unknown, and whose principles were suspected. The
Catholics might prove to the world, that they were not involved in the
guilt and heresy of their ecclesiastical governor, by publicly
testifying their dissent, or by totally separating themselves from his
communion. The first of these methods was invented at Antioch, and
practised with such success, that it was soon diffused over the
Christian world. The doxology or sacred hymn, which celebrates the
gloryof the Trinity, is susceptible of very nice, but material,
inflections; and the substance of an orthodox, or an heretical, creed,
may be expressed by the difference of a disjunctive, or a copulative,
particle. Alternate responses, and a more regular psalmody,  were
introduced into the public service by Flavianus and Diodorus, two devout
and active laymen, who were attached to the Nicene faith. Under their
conduct a swarm of monks issued from the adjacent desert, bands of
well-disciplined singers were stationed in the cathedral of Antioch, the
Glory to the Father, And the Son, And the Holy Ghost,  was triumphantly
chanted by a full chorus of voices; and the Catholics insulted, by the
purity of their doctrine, the Arian prelate, who had usurped the throne
of the venerable Eustathius. The same zeal which inspired their songs
prompted the more scrupulous members of the orthodox party to form
separate assemblies, which were governed by the presbyters, till the
death of their exiled bishop allowed the election and consecration of a
new episcopal pastor.  The revolutions of the court multiplied the
number of pretenders; and the same city was often disputed, under the
reign of Constantius, by two, or three, or even four, bishops, who
exercised their spiritual jurisdiction over their respective followers,
and alternately lost and regained the temporal possessions of the
church. The abuse of Christianity introduced into the Roman government
new causes of tyranny and sedition; the bands of civil society were torn
asunder by the fury of religious factions; and the obscure citizen, who
might calmly have surveyed the elevation and fall of successive
emperors, imagined and experienced, that his own life and fortune were
connected with the interests of a popular ecclesiastic. The example of
the two capitals, Rome and Constantinople, may serve to represent the
state of the empire, and the temper of mankind, under the reign of the
sons of Constantine.

I. The Roman pontiff, as long as he maintained his station and his
principles, was guarded by the warm attachment of a great people; and
could reject with scorn the prayers, the menaces, and the oblations of
an heretical prince. When the eunuchs had secretly pronounced the exile
of Liberius, the well-grounded apprehension of a tumult engaged them to
use the utmost precautions in the execution of the sentence. The capital
was invested on every side, and the præfect was commanded to seize the
person of the bishop, either by stratagem or by open force. The order
was obeyed, and Liberius, with the greatest difficulty, at the hour of
midnight, was swiftly conveyed beyond the reach of the Roman people,
before their consternation was turned into rage. As soon as they were
informed of his banishment into Thrace, a general assembly was convened,
and the clergy of Rome bound themselves, by a public and solemn oath,
never to desert their bishop, never to acknowledge the usurper Fælix;
who, by the influence of the eunuchs, had been irregularly chosen and
consecrated within the walls of a profane palace. At the end of two
years, their pious obstinacy subsisted entire and unshaken; and when
Constantius visited Rome, he was assailed by the importunate
solicitations of a people, who had preserved, as the last remnant of
their ancient freedom, the right of treating their sovereign with
familiar insolence. The wives of many of the senators and most honorable
citizens, after pressing their husbands to intercede in favor of
Liberius, were advised to undertake a commission, which in their hands
would be less dangerous, and might prove more successful. The emperor
received with politeness these female deputies, whose wealth and dignity
were displayed in the magnificence of their dress and ornaments: he
admired their inflexible resolution of following their beloved pastor to
the most distant regions of the earth; and consented that the two
bishops, Liberius and Fælix, should govern in peace their respective
congregations. But the ideas of toleration were so repugnant to the
practice, and even to the sentiments, of those times, that when the
answer of Constantius was publicly read in the Circus of Rome, so
reasonable a project of accommodation was rejected with contempt and
ridicule. The eager vehemence which animated the spectators in the
decisive moment of a horse-race, was now directed towards a different
object; and the Circus resounded with the shout of thousands, who
repeatedly exclaimed, "One God, One Christ, One Bishop!" The zeal of the
Roman people in the cause of Liberius was not confined to words alone;
and the dangerous and bloody sedition which they excited soon after the
departure of Constantius determined that prince to accept the submission
of the exiled prelate, and to restore him to the undivided dominion of
the capital. After some ineffectual resistance, his rival was expelled
from the city by the permission of the emperor and the power of the
opposite faction; the adherents of Fælix were inhumanly murdered in the
streets, in the public places, in the baths, and even in the churches;
and the face of Rome, upon the return of a Christian bishop, renewed the
horrid image of the massacres of Marius, and the proscriptions of Sylla.

II. Notwithstanding the rapid increase of Christians under the reign of
the Flavian family, Rome, Alexandria, and the other great cities of the
empire, still contained a strong and powerful faction of Infidels, who
envied the prosperity, and who ridiculed, even in their theatres, the
theological disputes of the church. Constantinople alone enjoyed the
advantage of being born and educated in the bosom of the faith. The
capital of the East had never been polluted by the worship of idols; and
the whole body of the people had deeply imbibed the opinions, the
virtues, and the passions, which distinguished the Christians of that
age from the rest of mankind. After the death of Alexander, the
episcopal throne was disputed by Paul and Macedonius. By their zeal and
abilities they both deserved the eminent station to which they aspired;
and if the moral character of Macedonius was less exceptionable, his
competitor had the advantage of a prior election and a more orthodox
doctrine. His firm attachment to the Nicene creed, which has given Paul
a place in the calendar among saints and martyrs, exposed him to the
resentment of the Arians. In the space of fourteen years he was five
times driven from his throne; to which he was more frequently restored
by the violence of the people, than by the permission of the prince; and
the power of Macedonius could be secured only by the death of his rival.
The unfortunate Paul was dragged in chains from the sandy deserts of
Mesopotamia to the most desolate places of Mount Taurus,  confined in a
dark and narrow dungeon, left six days without food, and at length
strangled, by the order of Philip, one of the principal ministers of the
emperor Constantius.  The first blood which stained the new capital was
spilt in this ecclesiastical contest; and many persons were slain on
both sides, in the furious and obstinate seditions of the people. The
commission of enforcing a sentence of banishment against Paul had been
intrusted to Hermogenes, the master-general of the cavalry; but the
execution of it was fatal to himself. The Catholics rose in the defence
of their bishop; the palace of Hermogenes was consumed; the first
military officer of the empire was dragged by the heels through the
streets of Constantinople, and, after he expired, his lifeless corpse
was exposed to their wanton insults.  The fate of Hermogenes instructed
Philip, the Prætorian præfect, to act with more precaution on a similar
occasion. In the most gentle and honorable terms, he required the
attendance of Paul in the baths of Zeuxippus, which had a private
communication with the palace and the sea. A vessel, which lay ready at
the garden stairs, immediately hoisted sail; and, while the people were
still ignorant of the meditated sacrilege, their bishop was already
embarked on his voyage to Thessalonica. They soon beheld, with surprise
and indignation, the gates of the palace thrown open, and the usurper
Macedonius seated by the side of the præfect on a lofty chariot, which
was surrounded by troops of guards with drawn swords. The military
procession advanced towards the cathedral; the Arians and the Catholics
eagerly rushed to occupy that important post; and three thousand one
hundred and fifty persons lost their lives in the confusion of the
tumult. Macedonius, who was supported by a regular force, obtained a
decisive victory; but his reign was disturbed by clamor and sedition;
and the causes which appeared the least connected with the subject of
dispute, were sufficient to nourish and to kindle the flame of civil
discord. As the chapel in which the body of the great Constantine had
been deposited was in a ruinous condition, the bishop transported those
venerable remains into the church of St. Acacius. This prudent and even
pious measure was represented as a wicked profanation by the whole party
which adhered to the Homoousian doctrine. The factions immediately flew
to arms, the consecrated ground was used as their field of battle; and
one of the ecclesiastical historians has observed, as a real fact, not
as a figure of rhetoric, that the well before the church overflowed with
a stream of blood, which filled the porticos and the adjacent courts.
The writer who should impute these tumults solely to a religious
principle, would betray a very imperfect knowledge of human nature; yet
it must be confessed that the motive which misled the sincerity of zeal,
and the pretence which disguised the licentiousness of passion,
suppressed the remorse which, in another cause, would have succeeded to
the rage of the Christians at Constantinople.

Chapter XXI: Persecution Of Heresy, State Of The Church. -- Part VII.

The cruel and arbitrary disposition of Constantius, which did not always
require the provocations of guilt and resistance, was justly exasperated
by the tumults of his capital, and the criminal behavior of a faction,
which opposed the authority and religion of their sovereign. The
ordinary punishments of death, exile, and confiscation, were inflicted
with partial vigor; and the Greeks still revere the holy memory of two
clerks, a reader, and a sub-deacon, who were accused of the murder of
Hermogenes, and beheaded at the gates of Constantinople. By an edict of
Constantius against the Catholics which has not been judged worthy of a
place in the Theodosian code, those who refused to communicate with the
Arian bishops, and particularly with Macedonius, were deprived of the
immunities of ecclesiastics, and of the rights of Christians; they were
compelled to relinquish the possession of the churches; and were
strictly prohibited from holding their assemblies within the walls of
the city. The execution of this unjust law, in the provinces of Thrace
and Asia Minor, was committed to the zeal of Macedonius; the civil and
military powers were directed to obey his commands; and the cruelties
exercised by this Semi-Arian tyrant in the support of the Homoiousion,
exceeded the commission, and disgraced the reign, of Constantius. The
sacraments of the church were administered to the reluctant victims, who
denied the vocation, and abhorred the principles, of Macedonius. The
rites of baptism were conferred on women and children, who, for that
purpose, had been torn from the arms of their friends and parents; the
mouths of the communicants were held open by a wooden engine, while the
consecrated bread was forced down their throat; the breasts of tender
virgins were either burnt with red-hot egg-shells, or inhumanly
compressed between sharp and heavy boards.  The Novatians of
Constantinople and the adjacent country, by their firm attachment to the
Homoousian standard, deserved to be confounded with the Catholics
themselves. Macedonius was informed, that a large district of
Paphlagonia  was almost entirely inhabited by those sectaries. He
resolved either to convert or to extirpate them; and as he distrusted,
on this occasion, the efficacy of an ecclesiastical mission, he
commanded a body of four thousand legionaries to march against the
rebels, and to reduce the territory of Mantinium under his spiritual
dominion. The Novatian peasants, animated by despair and religious fury,
boldly encountered the invaders of their country; and though many of the
Paphlagonians were slain, the Roman legions were vanquished by an
irregular multitude, armed only with scythes and axes; and, except a few
who escaped by an ignominious flight, four thousand soldiers were left
dead on the field of battle. The successor of Constantius has expressed,
in a concise but lively manner, some of the theological calamities which
afflicted the empire, and more especially the East, in the reign of a
prince who was the slave of his own passions, and of those of his
eunuchs: "Many were imprisoned, and persecuted, and driven into exile.
Whole troops of those who are styled heretics, were massacred,
particularly at Cyzicus, and at Samosata. In Paphlagonia, Bithynia,
Galatia, and in many other provinces, towns and villages were laid
waste, and utterly destroyed.

While the flames of the Arian controversy consumed the vitals of the
empire, the African provinces were infested by their peculiar enemies,
the savage fanatics, who, under the name of Circumcellions, formed the
strength and scandal of the Donatist party.  The severe execution of the
laws of Constantine had excited a spirit of discontent and resistance,
the strenuous efforts of his son Constans, to restore the unity of the
church, exasperated the sentiments of mutual hatred, which had first
occasioned the separation; and the methods of force and corruption
employed by the two Imperial commissioners, Paul and Macarius, furnished
the schismatics with a specious contrast between the maxims of the
apostles and the conduct of their pretended successors.  The peasants
who inhabited the villages of Numidia and Mauritania, were a ferocious
race, who had been imperfectly reduced under the authority of the Roman
laws; who were imperfectly converted to the Christian faith; but who
were actuated by a blind and furious enthusiasm in the cause of their
Donatist teachers. They indignantly supported the exile of their
bishops, the demolition of their churches, and the interruption of their
secret assemblies. The violence of the officers of justice, who were
usually sustained by a military guard, was sometimes repelled with equal
violence; and the blood of some popular ecclesiastics, which had been
shed in the quarrel, inflamed their rude followers with an eager desire
of revenging the death of these holy martyrs. By their own cruelty and
rashness, the ministers of persecution sometimes provoked their fate;
and the guilt of an accidental tumult precipitated the criminals into
despair and rebellion. Driven from their native villages, the Donatist
peasants assembled in formidable gangs on the edge of the Getulian
desert; and readily exchanged the habits of labor for a life of idleness
and rapine, which was consecrated by the name of religion, and faintly
condemned by the doctors of the sect. The leaders of the Circumcellions
assumed the title of captains of the saints; their principal weapon, as
they were indifferently provided with swords and spears, was a huge and
weighty club, which they termed an Israelite; and the well-known sound
of "Praise be to God," which they used as their cry of war, diffused
consternation over the unarmed provinces of Africa. At first their
depredations were colored by the plea of necessity; but they soon
exceeded the measure of subsistence, indulged without control their
intemperance and avarice, burnt the villages which they had pillaged,
and reigned the licentious tyrants of the open country. The occupations
of husbandry, and the administration of justice, were interrupted; and
as the Circumcellions pretended to restore the primitive equality of
mankind, and to reform the abuses of civil society, they opened a secure
asylum for the slaves and debtors, who flocked in crowds to their holy
standard. When they were not resisted, they usually contented themselves
with plunder, but the slightest opposition provoked them to acts of
violence and murder; and some Catholic priests, who had imprudently
signalized their zeal, were tortured by the fanatics with the most
refined and wanton barbarity. The spirit of the Circumcellions was not
always exerted against their defenceless enemies; they engaged, and
sometimes defeated, the troops of the province; and in the bloody action
of Bagai, they attacked in the open field, but with unsuccessful valor,
an advanced guard of the Imperial cavalry. The Donatists who were taken
in arms, received, and they soon deserved, the same treatment which
might have been shown to the wild beasts of the desert. The captives
died, without a murmur, either by the sword, the axe, or the fire; and
the measures of retaliation were multiplied in a rapid proportion, which
aggravated the horrors of rebellion, and excluded the hope of mutual
forgiveness. In the beginning of the present century, the example of the
Circumcellions has been renewed in the persecution, the boldness, the
crimes, and the enthusiasm of the Camisards; and if the fanatics of
Languedoc surpassed those of Numidia, by their military achievements,
the Africans maintained their fierce independence with more resolution
and perseverance.

Such disorders are the natural effects of religious tyranny, but the
rage of the Donatists was inflamed by a frenzy of a very extraordinary
kind; and which, if it really prevailed among them in so extravagant a
degree, cannot surely be paralleled in any country or in any age. Many
of these fanatics were possessed with the horror of life, and the desire
of martyrdom; and they deemed it of little moment by what means, or by
what hands, they perished, if their conduct was sanctified by the
intention of devoting themselves to the glory of the true faith, and the
hope of eternal happiness.  Sometimes they rudely disturbed the
festivals, and profaned the temples of Paganism, with the design of
exciting the most zealous of the idolaters to revenge the insulted honor
of their gods. They sometimes forced their way into the courts of
justice, and compelled the affrighted judge to give orders for their
immediate execution. They frequently stopped travellers on the public
highways, and obliged them to inflict the stroke of martyrdom, by the
promise of a reward, if they consented, and by the threat of instant
death, if they refused to grant so very singular a favor. When they were
disappointed of every other resource, they announced the day on which,
in the presence of their friends and brethren, they should east
themselves headlong from some lofty rock; and many precipices were
shown, which had acquired fame by the number of religious suicides. In
the actions of these desperate enthusiasts, who were admired by one
party as the martyrs of God, and abhorred by the other as the victims of
Satan, an impartial philosopher may discover the influence and the last
abuse of that inflexible spirit which was originally derived from the
character and principles of the Jewish nation.

The simple narrative of the intestine divisions, which distracted the
peace, and dishonored the triumph, of the church, will confirm the
remark of a Pagan historian, and justify the complaint of a venerable
bishop. The experience of Ammianus had convinced him, that the enmity of
the Christians towards each other, surpassed the fury of savage beasts
against man;  and Gregory Nazianzen most pathetically laments, that the
kingdom of heaven was converted, by discord, into the image of chaos, of
a nocturnal tempest, and of hell itself.  The fierce and partial writers
of the times, ascribing allvirtue to themselves, and imputing allguilt
to their adversaries, have painted the battle of the angels and dæmons.
Our calmer reason will reject such pure and perfect monsters of vice or
sanctity, and will impute an equal, or at least an indiscriminate,
measure of good and evil to the hostile sectaries, who assumed and
bestowed the appellations of orthodox and heretics. They had been
educated in the same religion and the same civil society. Their hopes
and fears in the present, or in a future life, were balanced in the same
proportion. On either side, the error might be innocent, the faith
sincere, the practice meritorious or corrupt. Their passions were
excited by similar objects; and they might alternately abuse the favor
of the court, or of the people. The metaphysical opinions of the
Athanasians and the Arians could not influence their moral character;
and they were alike actuated by the intolerant spirit which has been
extracted from the pure and simple maxims of the gospel.

A modern writer, who, with a just confidence, has prefixed to his own
history the honorable epithets of political and philosophical,  accuses
the timid prudence of Montesquieu, for neglecting to enumerate, among
the causes of the decline of the empire, a law of Constantine, by which
the exercise of the Pagan worship was absolutely suppressed, and a
considerable part of his subjects was left destitute of priests, of
temples, and of any public religion. The zeal of the philosophic
historian for the rights of mankind, has induced him to acquiesce in the
ambiguous testimony of those ecclesiastics, who have too lightly
ascribed to their favorite hero the meritof a general persecution.
Instead of alleging this imaginary law, which would have blazed in the
front of the Imperial codes, we may safely appeal to the original
epistle, which Constantine addressed to the followers of the ancient
religion; at a time when he no longer disguised his conversion, nor
dreaded the rivals of his throne. He invites and exhorts, in the most
pressing terms, the subjects of the Roman empire to imitate the example
of their master; but he declares, that those who still refuse to open
their eyes to the celestial light, may freely enjoy their temples and
their fancied gods. A report, that the ceremonies of paganism were
suppressed, is formally contradicted by the emperor himself, who wisely
assigns, as the principle of his moderation, the invincible force of
habit, of prejudice, and of superstition.  Without violating the
sanctity of his promise, without alarming the fears of the Pagans, the
artful monarch advanced, by slow and cautious steps, to undermine the
irregular and decayed fabric of polytheism. The partial acts of severity
which he occasionally exercised, though they were secretly promoted by a
Christian zeal, were colored by the fairest pretences of justice and the
public good; and while Constantine designed to ruin the foundations, he
seemed to reform the abuses, of the ancient religion. After the example
of the wisest of his predecessors, he condemned, under the most rigorous
penalties, the occult and impious arts of divination; which excited the
vain hopes, and sometimes the criminal attempts, of those who were
discontented with their present condition. An ignominious silence was
imposed on the oracles, which had been publicly convicted of fraud and
falsehood; the effeminate priests of the Nile were abolished; and
Constantine discharged the duties of a Roman censor, when he gave orders
for the demolition of several temples of Phnicia; in which every mode of
prostitution was devoutly practised in the face of day, and to the honor
of Venus.  The Imperial city of Constantinople was, in some measure,
raised at the expense, and was adorned with the spoils, of the opulent
temples of Greece and Asia; the sacred property was confiscated; the
statues of gods and heroes were transported, with rude familiarity,
among a people who considered them as objects, not of adoration, but of
curiosity; the gold and silver were restored to circulation; and the
magistrates, the bishops, and the eunuchs, improved the fortunate
occasion of gratifying, at once, their zeal, their avarice, and their
resentment. But these depredations were confined to a small part of the
Roman world; and the provinces had been long since accustomed to endure
the same sacrilegious rapine, from the tyranny of princes and
proconsuls, who could not be suspected of any design to subvert the
established religion.

The sons of Constantine trod in the footsteps of their father, with more
zeal, and with less discretion. The pretences of rapine and oppression
were insensibly multiplied;  every indulgence was shown to the illegal
behavior of the Christians; every doubt was explained to the
disadvantage of Paganism; and the demolition of the temples was
celebrated as one of the auspicious events of the reign of Constans and
Constantius.  The name of Constantius is prefixed to a concise law,
which might have superseded the necessity of any future prohibitions.
"It is our pleasure, that in all places, and in all cities, the temples
be immediately shut, and carefully guarded, that none may have the power
of offending. It is likewise our pleasure, that all our subjects should
abstain from sacrifices. If any one should be guilty of such an act, let
him feel the sword of vengeance, and after his execution, let his
property be confiscated to the public use. We denounce the same
penalties against the governors of the provinces, if they neglect to
punish the criminals."  But there is the strongest reason to believe,
that this formidable edict was either composed without being published,
or was published without being executed. The evidence of facts, and the
monuments which are still extant of brass and marble, continue to prove
the public exercise of the Pagan worship during the whole reign of the
sons of Constantine. In the East, as well as in the West, in cities, as
well as in the country, a great number of temples were respected, or at
least were spared; and the devout multitude still enjoyed the luxury of
sacrifices, of festivals, and of processions, by the permission, or by
the connivance, of the civil government. About four years after the
supposed date of this bloody edict, Constantius visited the temples of
Rome; and the decency of his behavior is recommended by a pagan orator
as an example worthy of the imitation of succeeding princes. "That
emperor," says Symmachus, "suffered the privileges of the vestal virgins
to remain inviolate; he bestowed the sacerdotal dignities on the nobles
of Rome, granted the customary allowance to defray the expenses of the
public rites and sacrifices; and, though he had embraced a different
religion, he never attempted to deprive the empire of the sacred worship
of antiquity."  The senate still presumed to consecrate, by solemn
decrees, the divine memory of their sovereigns; and Constantine himself
was associated, after his death, to those gods whom he had renounced and
insulted during his life. The title, the ensigns, the prerogatives, of
sovereign pontiff, which had been instituted by Numa, and assumed by
Augustus, were accepted, without hesitation, by seven Christian
emperors; who were invested with a more absolute authority over the
religion which they had deserted, than over that which they professed.

The divisions of Christianity suspended the ruin of Paganism;  and the
holy war against the infidels was less vigorously prosecuted by princes
and bishops, who were more immediately alarmed by the guilt and danger
of domestic rebellion. The extirpation of idolatrymight have been
justified by the established principles of intolerance: but the hostile
sects, which alternately reigned in the Imperial court were mutually
apprehensive of alienating, and perhaps exasperating, the minds of a
powerful, though declining faction. Every motive of authority and
fashion, of interest and reason, now militated on the side of
Christianity; but two or three generations elapsed, before their
victorious influence was universally felt. The religion which had so
long and so lately been established in the Roman empire was still
revered by a numerous people, less attached indeed to speculative
opinion, than to ancient custom. The honors of the state and army were
indifferently bestowed on all the subjects of Constantine and
Constantius; and a considerable portion of knowledge and wealth and
valor was still engaged in the service of polytheism. The superstition
of the senator and of the peasant, of the poet and the philosopher, was
derived from very different causes, but they met with equal devotion in
the temples of the gods. Their zeal was insensibly provoked by the
insulting triumph of a proscribed sect; and their hopes were revived by
the well-grounded confidence, that the presumptive heir of the empire, a
young and valiant hero, who had delivered Gaul from the arms of the
Barbarians, had secretly embraced the religion of his ancestors.

Chapter XXII: Julian Declared Emperor. Part I

Julian Is Declared Emperor By The Legions Of Gaul. -- His March And
Success. -- The Death Of Constantius. -- Civil Administration Of Julian.

While the Romans languished under the ignominious tyranny of eunuchs and
bishops, the praises of Julian were repeated with transport in every
part of the empire, except in the palace of Constantius. The barbarians
of Germany had felt, and still dreaded, the arms of the young Cæsar; his
soldiers were the companions of his victory; the grateful provincials
enjoyed the blessings of his reign; but the favorites, who had opposed
his elevation, were offended by his virtues; and they justly considered
the friend of the people as the enemy of the court. As long as the fame
of Julian was doubtful, the buffoons of the palace, who were skilled in
the language of satire, tried the efficacy of those arts which they had
so often practised with success. They easily discovered, that his
simplicity was not exempt from affectation: the ridiculous epithets of a
hairy savage, of an ape invested with the purple, were applied to the
dress and person of the philosophic warrior; and his modest despatches
were stigmatized as the vain and elaborate fictions of a loquacious
Greek, a speculative soldier, who had studied the art of war amidst the
groves of the academy.  The voice of malicious folly was at length
silenced by the shouts of victory; the conqueror of the Franks and
Alemanni could no longer be painted as an object of contempt; and the
monarch himself was meanly ambitious of stealing from his lieutenant the
honorable reward of his labors. In the letters crowned with laurel,
which, according to ancient custom, were addressed to the provinces, the
name of Julian was omitted. "Constantius had made his dispositions in
person; hehad signalized his valor in the foremost ranks; hismilitary
conduct had secured the victory; and the captive king of the barbarians
was presented to himon the field of battle," from which he was at that
time distant about forty days' journey.  So extravagant a fable was
incapable, however, of deceiving the public credulity, or even of
satisfying the pride of the emperor himself. Secretly conscious that the
applause and favor of the Romans accompanied the rising fortunes of
Julian, his discontented mind was prepared to receive the subtle poison
of those artful sycophants, who colored their mischievous designs with
the fairest appearances of truth and candor.  Instead of depreciating
the merits of Julian, they acknowledged, and even exaggerated, his
popular fame, superior talents, and important services. But they darkly
insinuated, that the virtues of the Cæsar might instantly be converted
into the most dangerous crimes, if the inconstant multitude should
prefer their inclinations to their duty; or if the general of a
victorious army should be tempted from his allegiance by the hopes of
revenge and independent greatness. The personal fears of Constantius
were interpreted by his council as a laudable anxiety for the public
safety; whilst in private, and perhaps in his own breast, he disguised,
under the less odious appellation of fear, the sentiments of hatred and
envy, which he had secretly conceived for the inimitable virtues of
Julian.

The apparent tranquillity of Gaul, and the imminent danger of the
eastern provinces, offered a specious pretence for the design which was
artfully concerted by the Imperial ministers. They resolved to disarm
the Cæsar; to recall those faithful troops who guarded his person and
dignity; and to employ, in a distant war against the Persian monarch,
the hardy veterans who had vanquished, on the banks of the Rhine, the
fiercest nations of Germany. While Julian used the laborious hours of
his winter quarters at Paris in the administration of power, which, in
his hands, was the exercise of virtue, he was surprised by the hasty
arrival of a tribune and a notary, with positive orders, from the
emperor, which theywere directed to execute, and hewas commanded not to
oppose. Constantius signified his pleasure, that four entire legions,
the Celtæ, and Petulants, the Heruli, and the Batavians, should be
separated from the standard of Julian, under which they had acquired
their fame and discipline; that in each of the remaining bands three
hundred of the bravest youths should be selected; and that this numerous
detachment, the strength of the Gallic army, should instantly begin
their march, and exert their utmost diligence to arrive, before the
opening of the campaign, on the frontiers of Persia.  The Cæsar foresaw
and lamented the consequences of this fatal mandate. Most of the
auxiliaries, who engaged their voluntary service, had stipulated, that
they should never be obliged to pass the Alps. The public faith of Rome,
and the personal honor of Julian, had been pledged for the observance of
this condition. Such an act of treachery and oppression would destroy
the confidence, and excite the resentment, of the independent warriors
of Germany, who considered truth as the noblest of their virtues, and
freedom as the most valuable of their possessions. The legionaries, who
enjoyed the title and privileges of Romans, were enlisted for the
general defence of the republic; but those mercenary troops heard with
cold indifference the antiquated names of the republic and of Rome.
Attached, either from birth or long habit, to the climate and manners of
Gaul, they loved and admired Julian; they despised, and perhaps hated,
the emperor; they dreaded the laborious march, the Persian arrows, and
the burning deserts of Asia. They claimed as their own the country which
they had saved; and excused their want of spirit, by pleading the sacred
and more immediate duty of protecting their families and friends. The
apprehensions of the Gauls were derived from the knowledge of the
impending and inevitable danger. As soon as the provinces were exhausted
of their military strength, the Germans would violate a treaty which had
been imposed on their fears; and notwithstanding the abilities and valor
of Julian, the general of a nominal army, to whom the public calamities
would be imputed, must find himself, after a vain resistance, either a
prisoner in the camp of the barbarians, or a criminal in the palace of
Constantius. If Julian complied with the orders which he had received,
he subscribed his own destruction, and that of a people who deserved his
affection. But a positive refusal was an act of rebellion, and a
declaration of war. The inexorable jealousy of the emperor, the
peremptory, and perhaps insidious, nature of his commands, left not any
room for a fair apology, or candid interpretation; and the dependent
station of the Cæsar scarcely allowed him to pause or to deliberate.
Solitude increased the perplexity of Julian; he could no longer apply to
the faithful counsels of Sallust, who had been removed from his office
by the judicious malice of the eunuchs: he could not even enforce his
representations by the concurrence of the ministers, who would have been
afraid or ashamed to approve the ruin of Gaul. The moment had been
chosen, when Lupicinus,  the general of the cavalry, was despatched into
Britain, to repulse the inroads of the Scots and Picts; and Florentius
was occupied at Vienna by the assessment of the tribute. The latter, a
crafty and corrupt statesman, declining to assume a responsible part on
this dangerous occasion, eluded the pressing and repeated invitations of
Julian, who represented to him, that in every important measure, the
presence of the præfect was indispensable in the council of the prince.
In the mean while the Cæsar was oppressed by the rude and importunate
solicitations of the Imperial messengers, who presumed to suggest, that
if he expected the return of his ministers, he would charge himself with
the guilt of the delay, and reserve for them the merit of the execution.
Unable to resist, unwilling to comply, Julian expressed, in the most
serious terms, his wish, and even his intention, of resigning the
purple, which he could not preserve with honor, but which he could not
abdicate with safety.

After a painful conflict, Julian was compelled to acknowledge, that
obedience was the virtue of the most eminent subject, and that the
sovereign alone was entitled to judge of the public welfare. He issued
the necessary orders for carrying into execution the commands of
Constantius; a part of the troops began their march for the Alps; and
the detachments from the several garrisons moved towards their
respective places of assembly. They advanced with difficulty through the
trembling and affrighted crowds of provincials, who attempted to excite
their pity by silent despair, or loud lamentations, while the wives of
the soldiers, holding their infants in their arms, accused the desertion
of their husbands, in the mixed language of grief, of tenderness, and of
indignation. This scene of general distress afflicted the humanity of
the Cæsar; he granted a sufficient number of post-wagons to transport
the wives and families of the soldiers,  endeavored to alleviate the
hardships which he was constrained to inflict, and increased, by the
most laudable arts, his own popularity, and the discontent of the exiled
troops. The grief of an armed multitude is soon converted into rage;
their licentious murmurs, which every hour were communicated from tent
to tent with more boldness and effect, prepared their minds for the most
daring acts of sedition; and by the connivance of their tribunes, a
seasonable libel was secretly dispersed, which painted in lively colors
the disgrace of the Cæsar, the oppression of the Gallic army, and the
feeble vices of the tyrant of Asia. The servants of Constantius were
astonished and alarmed by the progress of this dangerous spirit. They
pressed the Cæsar to hasten the departure of the troops; but they
imprudently rejected the honest and judicious advice of Julian; who
proposed that they should not march through Paris, and suggested the
danger and temptation of a last interview.

As soon as the approach of the troops was announced, the Cæsar went out
to meet them, and ascended his tribunal, which had been erected in a
plain before the gates of the city. After distinguishing the officers
and soldiers, who by their rank or merit deserved a peculiar attention,
Julian addressed himself in a studied oration to the surrounding
multitude: he celebrated their exploits with grateful applause;
encouraged them to accept, with alacrity, the honor of serving under the
eye of a powerful and liberal monarch; and admonished them, that the
commands of Augustus required an instant and cheerful obedience. The
soldiers, who were apprehensive of offending their general by an
indecent clamor, or of belying their sentiments by false and venal
acclamations, maintained an obstinate silence; and after a short pause,
were dismissed to their quarters. The principal officers were
entertained by the Cæsar, who professed, in the warmest language of
friendship, his desire and his inability to reward, according to their
deserts, the brave companions of his victories. They retired from the
feast, full of grief and perplexity; and lamented the hardship of their
fate, which tore them from their beloved general and their native
country. The only expedient which could prevent their separation was
boldly agitated and approved the popular resentment was insensibly
moulded into a regular conspiracy; their just reasons of complaint were
heightened by passion, and their passions were inflamed by wine; as, on
the eve of their departure, the troops were indulged in licentious
festivity. At the hour of midnight, the impetuous multitude, with
swords, and bows, and torches in their hands, rushed into the suburbs;
encompassed the palace;  and, careless of future dangers, pronounced the
fatal and irrevocable words, Julian Augustus! The prince, whose anxious
suspense was interrupted by their disorderly acclamations, secured the
doors against their intrusion; and as long as it was in his power,
secluded his person and dignity from the accidents of a nocturnal
tumult. At the dawn of day, the soldiers, whose zeal was irritated by
opposition, forcibly entered the palace, seized, with respectful
violence, the object of their choice, guarded Julian with drawn swords
through the streets of Paris, placed him on the tribunal, and with
repeated shouts saluted him as their emperor. Prudence, as well as
loyalty, inculcated the propriety of resisting their treasonable
designs; and of preparing, for his oppressed virtue, the excuse of
violence. Addressing himself by turns to the multitude and to
individuals, he sometimes implored their mercy, and sometimes expressed
his indignation; conjured them not to sully the fame of their immortal
victories; and ventured to promise, that if they would immediately
return to their allegiance, he would undertake to obtain from the
emperor not only a free and gracious pardon, but even the revocation of
the orders which had excited their resentment. But the soldiers, who
were conscious of their guilt, chose rather to depend on the gratitude
of Julian, than on the clemency of the emperor. Their zeal was
insensibly turned into impatience, and their impatience into rage. The
inflexible Cæsar sustained, till the third hour of the day, their
prayers, their reproaches, and their menaces; nor did he yield, till he
had been repeatedly assured, that if he wished to live, he must consent
to reign. He was exalted on a shield in the presence, and amidst the
unanimous acclamations, of the troops; a rich military collar, which was
offered by chance, supplied the want of a diadem;  the ceremony was
concluded by the promise of a moderate donative;  and the new emperor,
overwhelmed with real or affected grief retired into the most secret
recesses of his apartment.

The grief of Julian could proceed only from his innocence; out his
innocence must appear extremely doubtful  in the eyes of those who have
learned to suspect the motives and the professions of princes. His
lively and active mind was susceptible of the various impressions of
hope and fear, of gratitude and revenge, of duty and of ambition, of the
love of fame, and of the fear of reproach. But it is impossible for us
to calculate the respective weight and operation of these sentiments; or
to ascertain the principles of action which might escape the
observation, while they guided, or rather impelled, the steps of Julian
himself. The discontent of the troops was produced by the malice of his
enemies; their tumult was the natural effect of interest and of passion;
and if Julian had tried to conceal a deep design under the appearances
of chance, he must have employed the most consummate artifice without
necessity, and probably without success. He solemnly declares, in the
presence of Jupiter, of the Sun, of Mars, of Minerva, and of all the
other deities, that till the close of the evening which preceded his
elevation, he was utterly ignorant of the designs of the soldiers;  and
it may seem ungenerous to distrust the honor of a hero and the truth of
a philosopher. Yet the superstitious confidence that Constantius was the
enemy, and that he himself was the favorite, of the gods, might prompt
him to desire, to solicit, and even to hasten the auspicious moment of
his reign, which was predestined to restore the ancient religion of
mankind. When Julian had received the intelligence of the conspiracy, he
resigned himself to a short slumber; and afterwards related to his
friends that he had seen the genius of the empire waiting with some
impatience at his door, pressing for admittance, and reproaching his
want of spirit and ambition.  Astonished and perplexed, he addressed his
prayers to the great Jupiter, who immediately signified, by a clear and
manifest omen, that he should submit to the will of heaven and of the
army. The conduct which disclaims the ordinary maxims of reason, excites
our suspicion and eludes our inquiry. Whenever the spirit of fanaticism,
at once so credulous and so crafty, has insinuated itself into a noble
mind, it insensibly corrodes the vital principles of virtue and
veracity.

To moderate the zeal of his party, to protect the persons of his
enemies,  to defeat and to despise the secret enterprises which were
formed against his life and dignity, were the cares which employed the
first days of the reign of the new emperor. Although he was firmly
resolved to maintain the station which he had assumed, he was still
desirous of saving his country from the calamities of civil war, of
declining a contest with the superior forces of Constantius, and of
preserving his own character from the reproach of perfidy and
ingratitude. Adorned with the ensigns of military and imperial pomp,
Julian showed himself in the field of Mars to the soldiers, who glowed
with ardent enthusiasm in the cause of their pupil, their leader, and
their friend. He recapitulated their victories, lamented their
sufferings, applauded their resolution, animated their hopes, and
checked their impetuosity; nor did he dismiss the assembly, till he had
obtained a solemn promise from the troops, that if the emperor of the
East would subscribe an equitable treaty, they would renounce any views
of conquest, and satisfy themselves with the tranquil possession of the
Gallic provinces. On this foundation he composed, in his own name, and
in that of the army, a specious and moderate epistle,  which was
delivered to Pentadius, his master of the offices, and to his
chamberlain Eutherius; two ambassadors whom he appointed to receive the
answer, and observe the dispositions of Constantius. This epistle is
inscribed with the modest appellation of Cæsar; but Julian solicits in a
peremptory, though respectful, manner, the confirmation of the title of
Augustus. He acknowledges the irregularity of his own election, while he
justifies, in some measure, the resentment and violence of the troops
which had extorted his reluctant consent. He allows the supremacy of his
brother Constantius; and engages to send him an annual present of
Spanish horses, to recruit his army with a select number of barbarian
youths, and to accept from his choice a Prætorian præfect of approved
discretion and fidelity. But he reserves for himself the nomination of
his other civil and military officers, with the troops, the revenue, and
the sovereignty of the provinces beyond the Alps. He admonishes the
emperor to consult the dictates of justice; to distrust the arts of
those venal flatterers, who subsist only by the discord of princes; and
to embrace the offer of a fair and honorable treaty, equally
advantageous to the republic and to the house of Constantine. In this
negotiation Julian claimed no more than he already possessed. The
delegated authority which he had long exercised over the provinces of
Gaul, Spain, and Britain, was still obeyed under a name more independent
and august. The soldiers and the people rejoiced in a revolution which
was not stained even with the blood of the guilty. Florentius was a
fugitive; Lupicinus a prisoner. The persons who were disaffected to the
new government were disarmed and secured; and the vacant offices were
distributed, according to the recommendation of merit, by a prince who
despised the intrigues of the palace, and the clamors of the soldiers.

The negotiations of peace were accompanied and supported by the most
vigorous preparations for war. The army, which Julian held in readiness
for immediate action, was recruited and augmented by the disorders of
the times. The cruel persecutions of the faction of Magnentius had
filled Gaul with numerous bands of outlaws and robbers. They cheerfully
accepted the offer of a general pardon from a prince whom they could
trust, submitted to the restraints of military discipline, and retained
only their implacable hatred to the person and government of
Constantius.  As soon as the season of the year permitted Julian to take
the field, he appeared at the head of his legions; threw a bridge over
the Rhine in the neighborhood of Cleves; and prepared to chastise the
perfidy of the Attuarii, a tribe of Franks, who presumed that they might
ravage, with impunity, the frontiers of a divided empire. The
difficulty, as well as glory, of this enterprise, consisted in a
laborious march; and Julian had conquered, as soon as he could penetrate
into a country, which former princes had considered as inaccessible.
After he had given peace to the Barbarians, the emperor carefully
visited the fortifications along the Rhine from Cleves to Basil;
surveyed, with peculiar attention, the territories which he had
recovered from the hands of the Alemanni, passed through Besançon,
which had severely suffered from their fury, and fixed his headquarters
at Vienna for the ensuing winter. The barrier of Gaul was improved and
strengthened with additional fortifications; and Julian entertained some
hopes that the Germans, whom he had so often vanquished, might, in his
absence, be restrained by the terror of his name. Vadomair  was the only
prince of the Alemanni whom he esteemed or feared and while the subtle
Barbarian affected to observe the faith of treaties, the progress of his
arms threatened the state with an unseasonable and dangerous war. The
policy of Julian condescended to surprise the prince of the Alemanni by
his own arts: and Vadomair, who, in the character of a friend, had
incautiously accepted an invitation from the Roman governors, was seized
in the midst of the entertainment, and sent away prisoner into the heart
of Spain. Before the Barbarians were recovered from their amazement, the
emperor appeared in arms on the banks of the Rhine, and, once more
crossing the river, renewed the deep impressions of terror and respect
which had been already made by four preceding expeditions.

Chapter XXII: Julian Declared Emperor. -- Part II.

The ambassadors of Julian had been instructed to execute, with the
utmost diligence, their important commission. But, in their passage
through Italy and Illyricum, they were detained by the tedious and
affected delays of the provincial governors; they were conducted by slow
journeys from Constantinople to Cæsarea in Cappadocia; and when at
length they were admitted to the presence of Constantius, they found
that he had already conceived, from the despatches of his own officers,
the most unfavorable opinion of the conduct of Julian, and of the Gallic
army. The letters were heard with impatience; the trembling messengers
were dismissed with indignation and contempt; and the looks, gestures,
the furious language of the monarch, expressed the disorder of his soul.
The domestic connection, which might have reconciled the brother and the
husband of Helena, was recently dissolved by the death of that princess,
whose pregnancy had been several times fruitless, and was at last fatal
to herself.  The empress Eusebia had preserved, to the last moment of
her life, the warm, and even jealous, affection which she had conceived
for Julian; and her mild influence might have moderated the resentment
of a prince, who, since her death, was abandoned to his own passions,
and to the arts of his eunuchs. But the terror of a foreign invasion
obliged him to suspend the punishment of a private enemy: he continued
his march towards the confines of Persia, and thought it sufficient to
signify the conditions which might entitle Julian and his guilty
followers to the clemency of their offended sovereign. He required, that
the presumptuous Cæsar should expressly renounce the appellation and
rank of Augustus, which he had accepted from the rebels; that he should
descend to his former station of a limited and dependent minister; that
he should vest the powers of the state and army in the hands of those
officers who were appointed by the Imperial court; and that he should
trust his safety to the assurances of pardon, which were announced by
Epictetus, a Gallic bishop, and one of the Arian favorites of
Constantius. Several months were ineffectually consumed in a treaty
which was negotiated at the distance of three thousand miles between
Paris and Antioch; and, as soon as Julian perceived that his modest and
respectful behavior served only to irritate the pride of an implacable
adversary, he boldly resolved to commit his life and fortune to the
chance of a civil war. He gave a public and military audience to the
quæstor Leonas: the haughty epistle of Constantius was read to the
attentive multitude; and Julian protested, with the most flattering
deference, that he was ready to resign the title of Augustus, if he
could obtain the consent of those whom he acknowledged as the authors of
his elevation. The faint proposal was impetuously silenced; and the
acclamations of "Julian Augustus, continue to reign, by the authority of
the army, of the people, of the republic which you have saved,"
thundered at once from every part of the field, and terrified the pale
ambassador of Constantius. A part of the letter was afterwards read, in
which the emperor arraigned the ingratitude of Julian, whom he had
invested with the honors of the purple; whom he had educated with so
much care and tenderness; whom he had preserved in his infancy, when he
was left a helpless orphan. "An orphan!" interrupted Julian, who
justified his cause by indulging his passions: "does the assassin of my
family reproach me that I was left an orphan? He urges me to revenge
those injuries which I have long studied to forget." The assembly was
dismissed; and Leonas, who, with some difficulty, had been protected
from the popular fury, was sent back to his master with an epistle, in
which Julian expressed, in a strain of the most vehement eloquence, the
sentiments of contempt, of hatred, and of resentment, which had been
suppressed and imbittered by the dissimulation of twenty years. After
this message, which might be considered as a signal of irreconcilable
war, Julian, who, some weeks before, had celebrated the Christian
festival of the Epiphany,  made a public declaration that he committed
the care of his safety to the Immortal Gods; and thus publicly renounced
the religion as well as the friendship of Constantius.

The situation of Julian required a vigorous and immediate resolution. He
had discovered, from intercepted letters, that his adversary,
sacrificing the interest of the state to that of the monarch, had again
excited the Barbarians to invade the provinces of the West. The position
of two magazines, one of them collected on the banks of the Lake of
Constance, the other formed at the foot of the Cottian Alps, seemed to
indicate the march of two armies; and the size of those magazines, each
of which consisted of six hundred thousand quarters of wheat, or rather
flour,  was a threatening evidence of the strength and numbers of the
enemy who prepared to surround him. But the Imperial legions were still
in their distant quarters of Asia; the Danube was feebly guarded; and if
Julian could occupy, by a sudden incursion, the important provinces of
Illyricum, he might expect that a people of soldiers would resort to his
standard, and that the rich mines of gold and silver would contribute to
the expenses of the civil war. He proposed this bold enterprise to the
assembly of the soldiers; inspired them with a just confidence in their
general, and in themselves; and exhorted them to maintain their
reputation of being terrible to the enemy, moderate to their
fellow-citizens, and obedient to their officers. His spirited discourse
was received with the loudest acclamations, and the same troops which
had taken up arms against Constantius, when he summoned them to leave
Gaul, now declared with alacrity, that they would follow Julian to the
farthest extremities of Europe or Asia. The oath of fidelity was
administered; and the soldiers, clashing their shields, and pointing
their drawn swords to their throats, devoted themselves, with horrid
imprecations, to the service of a leader whom they celebrated as the
deliverer of Gaul and the conqueror of the Germans.  This solemn
engagement, which seemed to be dictated by affection rather than by
duty, was singly opposed by Nebridius, who had been admitted to the
office of Prætorian præfect. That faithful minister, alone and
unassisted, asserted the rights of Constantius, in the midst of an armed
and angry multitude, to whose fury he had almost fallen an honorable,
but useless sacrifice. After losing one of his hands by the stroke of a
sword, he embraced the knees of the prince whom he had offended. Julian
covered the præfect with his Imperial mantle, and, protecting him from
the zeal of his followers, dismissed him to his own house, with less
respect than was perhaps due to the virtue of an enemy.  The high office
of Nebridius was bestowed on Sallust; and the provinces of Gaul, which
were now delivered from the intolerable oppression of taxes, enjoyed the
mild and equitable administration of the friend of Julian, who was
permitted to practise those virtues which he had instilled into the mind
of his pupil.

The hopes of Julian depended much less on the number of his troops, than
on the celerity of his motions. In the execution of a daring enterprise,
he availed himself of every precaution, as far as prudence could
suggest; and where prudence could no longer accompany his steps, he
trusted the event to valor and to fortune. In the neighborhood of Basil
he assembled and divided his army.  One body, which consisted of ten
thousand men, was directed under the command of Nevitta, general of the
cavalry, to advance through the midland parts of Rhætia and Noricum. A
similar division of troops, under the orders of Jovius and Jovinus,
prepared to follow the oblique course of the highways, through the Alps,
and the northern confines of Italy. The instructions to the generals
were conceived with energy and precision: to hasten their march in close
and compact columns, which, according to the disposition of the ground,
might readily be changed into any order of battle; to secure themselves
against the surprises of the night by strong posts and vigilant guards;
to prevent resistance by their unexpected arrival; to elude examination
by their sudden departure; to spread the opinion of their strength, and
the terror of his name; and to join their sovereign under the walls of
Sirmium. For himself Julian had reserved a more difficult and
extraordinary part. He selected three thousand brave and active
volunteers, resolved, like their leader, to cast behind them every hope
of a retreat; at the head of this faithful band, he fearlessly plunged
into the recesses of the Marcian, or Black Forest, which conceals the
sources of the Danube;  and, for many days, the fate of Julian was
unknown to the world. The secrecy of his march, his diligence, and
vigor, surmounted every obstacle; he forced his way over mountains and
morasses, occupied the bridges or swam the rivers, pursued his direct
course,  without reflecting whether he traversed the territory of the
Romans or of the Barbarians, and at length emerged, between Ratisbon and
Vienna, at the place where he designed to embark his troops on the
Danube. By a well-concerted stratagem, he seized a fleet of light
brigantines,  as it lay at anchor; secured a apply of coarse provisions
sufficient to satisfy the indelicate, and voracious, appetite of a
Gallic army; and boldly committed himself to the stream of the Danube.
The labors of the mariners, who plied their oars with incessant
diligence, and the steady continuance of a favorable wind, carried his
fleet above seven hundred miles in eleven days;  and he had already
disembarked his troops at Bononia, * only nineteen miles from Sirmium,
before his enemies could receive any certain intelligence that he had
left the banks of the Rhine. In the course of this long and rapid
navigation, the mind of Julian was fixed on the object of his
enterprise; and though he accepted the deputations of some cities, which
hastened to claim the merit of an early submission, he passed before the
hostile stations, which were placed along the river, without indulging
the temptation of signalizing a useless and ill-timed valor. The banks
of the Danube were crowded on either side with spectators, who gazed on
the military pomp, anticipated the importance of the event, and diffused
through the adjacent country the fame of a young hero, who advanced with
more than mortal speed at the head of the innumerable forces of the
West. Lucilian, who, with the rank of general of the cavalry, commanded
the military powers of Illyricum, was alarmed and perplexed by the
doubtful reports, which he could neither reject nor believe. He had
taken some slow and irresolute measures for the purpose of collecting
his troops, when he was surprised by Dagalaiphus, an active officer,
whom Julian, as soon as he landed at Bononia, had pushed forwards with
some light infantry. The captive general, uncertain of his life or
death, was hastily thrown upon a horse, and conducted to the presence of
Julian; who kindly raised him from the ground, and dispelled the terror
and amazement which seemed to stupefy his faculties. But Lucilian had no
sooner recovered his spirits, than he betrayed his want of discretion,
by presuming to admonish his conqueror that he had rashly ventured, with
a handful of men, to expose his person in the midst of his enemies.
"Reserve for your master Constantius these timid remonstrances," replied
Julian, with a smile of contempt: "when I gave you my purple to kiss, I
received you not as a counsellor, but as a suppliant." Conscious that
success alone could justify his attempt, and that boldness only could
command success, he instantly advanced, at the head of three thousand
soldiers, to attack the strongest and most populous city of the Illyrian
provinces. As he entered the long suburb of Sirmium, he was received by
the joyful acclamations of the army and people; who, crowned with
flowers, and holding lighted tapers in their hands, conducted their
acknowledged sovereign to his Imperial residence. Two days were devoted
to the public joy, which was celebrated by the games of the circus; but,
early on the morning of the third day, Julian marched to occupy the
narrow pass of Succi, in the defiles of Mount Hæmus; which, almost in
the midway between Sirmium and Constantinople, separates the provinces
of Thrace and Dacia, by an abrupt descent towards the former, and a
gentle declivity on the side of the latter.  The defence of this
important post was intrusted to the brave Nevitta; who, as well as the
generals of the Italian division, successfully executed the plan of the
march and junction which their master had so ably conceived.

The homage which Julian obtained, from the fears or the inclination of
the people, extended far beyond the immediate effect of his arms.  The
præfectures of Italy and Illyricum were administered by Taurus and
Florentius, who united that important office with the vain honors of the
consulship; and as those magistrates had retired with precipitation to
the court of Asia, Julian, who could not always restrain the levity of
his temper, stigmatized their flight by adding, in all the Acts of the
Year, the epithet of fugitiveto the names of the two consuls. The
provinces which had been deserted by their first magistrates
acknowledged the authority of an emperor, who, conciliating the
qualities of a soldier with those of a philosopher, was equally admired
in the camps of the Danube and in the cities of Greece. From his palace,
or, more properly, from his head-quarters of Sirmium and Naissus, he
distributed to the principal cities of the empire, a labored apology for
his own conduct; published the secret despatches of Constantius; and
solicited the judgment of mankind between two competitors, the one of
whom had expelled, and the other had invited, the Barbarians.  Julian,
whose mind was deeply wounded by the reproach of ingratitude, aspired to
maintain, by argument as well as by arms, the superior merits of his
cause; and to excel, not only in the arts of war, but in those of
composition. His epistle to the senate and people of Athens  seems to
have been dictated by an elegant enthusiasm; which prompted him to
submit his actions and his motives to the degenerate Athenians of his
own times, with the same humble deference as if he had been pleading, in
the days of Aristides, before the tribunal of the Areopagus. His
application to the senate of Rome, which was still permitted to bestow
the titles of Imperial power, was agreeable to the forms of the expiring
republic. An assembly was summoned by Tertullus, præfect of the city;
the epistle of Julian was read; and, as he appeared to be master of
Italy his claims were admitted without a dissenting voice. His oblique
censure of the innovations of Constantine, and his passionate invective
against the vices of Constantius, were heard with less satisfaction; and
the senate, as if Julian had been present, unanimously exclaimed,
"Respect, we beseech you, the author of your own fortune."  An artful
expression, which, according to the chance of war, might be differently
explained; as a manly reproof of the ingratitude of the usurper, or as a
flattering confession, that a single act of such benefit to the state
ought to atone for all the failings of Constantius.

The intelligence of the march and rapid progress of Julian was speedily
transmitted to his rival, who, by the retreat of Sapor, had obtained
some respite from the Persian war. Disguising the anguish of his soul
under the semblance of contempt, Constantius professed his intention of
returning into Europe, and of giving chase to Julian; for he never spoke
of his military expedition in any other light than that of a hunting
party.  In the camp of Hierapolis, in Syria, he communicated this design
to his army; slightly mentioned the guilt and rashness of the Cæsar; and
ventured to assure them, that if the mutineers of Gaul presumed to meet
them in the field, they would be unable to sustain the fire of their
eyes, and the irresistible weight of their shout of onset. The speech of
the emperor was received with military applause, and Theodotus, the
president of the council of Hierapolis, requested, with tears of
adulation, that his city might be adorned with the head of the
vanquished rebel.  A chosen detachment was despatched away in
post-wagons, to secure, if it were yet possible, the pass of Succi; the
recruits, the horses, the arms, and the magazines, which had been
prepared against Sapor, were appropriated to the service of the civil
war; and the domestic victories of Constantius inspired his partisans
with the most sanguine assurances of success. The notary Gaudentius had
occupied in his name the provinces of Africa; the subsistence of Rome
was intercepted; and the distress of Julian was increased by an
unexpected event, which might have been productive of fatal
consequences. Julian had received the submission of two legions and a
cohort of archers, who were stationed at Sirmium; but he suspected, with
reason, the fidelity of those troops which had been distinguished by the
emperor; and it was thought expedient, under the pretence of the exposed
state of the Gallic frontier, to dismiss them from the most important
scene of action. They advanced, with reluctance, as far as the confines
of Italy; but as they dreaded the length of the way, and the savage
fierceness of the Germans, they resolved, by the instigation of one of
their tribunes, to halt at Aquileia, and to erect the banners of
Constantius on the walls of that impregnable city. The vigilance of
Julian perceived at once the extent of the mischief, and the necessity
of applying an immediate remedy. By his order, Jovinus led back a part
of the army into Italy; and the siege of Aquileia was formed with
diligence, and prosecuted with vigor. But the legionaries, who seemed to
have rejected the yoke of discipline, conducted the defence of the place
with skill and perseverance; invited the rest of Italy to imitate the
example of their courage and loyalty; and threatened the retreat of
Julian, if he should be forced to yield to the superior numbers of the
armies of the East.

But the humanity of Julian was preserved from the cruel alternative
which he pathetically laments, of destroying or of being himself
destroyed: and the seasonable death of Constantius delivered the Roman
empire from the calamities of civil war. The approach of winter could
not detain the monarch at Antioch; and his favorites durst not oppose
his impatient desire of revenge. A slight fever, which was perhaps
occasioned by the agitation of his spirits, was increased by the
fatigues of the journey; and Constantius was obliged to halt at the
little town of Mopsucrene, twelve miles beyond Tarsus, where he expired,
after a short illness, in the forty-fifth year of his age, and the
twenty-fourth of his reign.  His genuine character, which was composed
of pride and weakness, of superstition and cruelty, has been fully
displayed in the preceding narrative of civil and ecclesiastical events.
The long abuse of power rendered him a considerable object in the eyes
of his contemporaries; but as personal merit can alone deserve the
notice of posterity, the last of the sons of Constantine may be
dismissed from the world, with the remark, that he inherited the
defects, without the abilities, of his father. Before Constantius
expired, he is said to have named Julian for his successor; nor does it
seem improbable, that his anxious concern for the fate of a young and
tender wife, whom he left with child, may have prevailed, in his last
moments, over the harsher passions of hatred and revenge. Eusebius, and
his guilty associates, made a faint attempt to prolong the reign of the
eunuchs, by the election of another emperor; but their intrigues were
rejected with disdain, by an army which now abhorred the thought of
civil discord; and two officers of rank were instantly despatched, to
assure Julian, that every sword in the empire would be drawn for his
service. The military designs of that prince, who had formed three
different attacks against Thrace, were prevented by this fortunate
event. Without shedding the blood of his fellow-citizens, he escaped the
dangers of a doubtful conflict, and acquired the advantages of a
complete victory. Impatient to visit the place of his birth, and the new
capital of the empire, he advanced from Naissus through the mountains of
Hæmus, and the cities of Thrace. When he reached Heraclea, at the
distance of sixty miles, all Constantinople was poured forth to receive
him; and he made his triumphal entry amidst the dutiful acclamations of
the soldiers, the people, and the senate. At innumerable multitude
pressed around him with eager respect and were perhaps disappointed when
they beheld the small stature and simple garb of a hero, whose
unexperienced youth had vanquished the Barbarians of Germany, and who
had now traversed, in a successful career, the whole continent of
Europe, from the shores of the Atlantic to those of the Bosphorus.  A
few days afterwards, when the remains of the deceased emperor were
landed in the harbor, the subjects of Julian applauded the real or
affected humanity of their sovereign. On foot, without his diadem, and
clothed in a mourning habit, he accompanied the funeral as far as the
church of the Holy Apostles, where the body was deposited: and if these
marks of respect may be interpreted as a selfish tribute to the birth
and dignity of his Imperial kinsman, the tears of Julian professed to
the world that he had forgot the injuries, and remembered only the
obligations, which he had received from Constantius.  As soon as the
legions of Aquileia were assured of the death of the emperor, they
opened the gates of the city, and, by the sacrifice of their guilty
leaders, obtained an easy pardon from the prudence or lenity of Julian;
who, in the thirty-second year of his age, acquired the undisputed
possession of the Roman empire.

Chapter XXII: Julian Declared Emperor. -- Part III.

Philosophy had instructed Julian to compare the advantages of action and
retirement; but the elevation of his birth, and the accidents of his
life, never allowed him the freedom of choice. He might perhaps
sincerely have preferred the groves of the academy, and the society of
Athens; but he was constrained, at first by the will, and afterwards by
the injustice, of Constantius, to expose his person and fame to the
dangers of Imperial greatness; and to make himself accountable to the
world, and to posterity, for the happiness of millions.  Julian
recollected with terror the observation of his master Plato,  that the
government of our flocks and herds is always committed to beings of a
superior species; and that the conduct of nations requires and deserves
the celestial powers of the gods or of the genii. From this principle he
justly concluded, that the man who presumes to reign, should aspire to
the perfection of the divine nature; that he should purify his soul from
her mortal and terrestrial part; that he should extinguish his
appetites, enlighten his understanding, regulate his passions, and
subdue the wild beast, which, according to the lively metaphor of
Aristotle,  seldom fails to ascend the throne of a despot. The throne of
Julian, which the death of Constantius fixed on an independent basis,
was the seat of reason, of virtue, and perhaps of vanity. He despised
the honors, renounced the pleasures, and discharged with incessant
diligence the duties, of his exalted station; and there were few among
his subjects who would have consented to relieve him from the weight of
the diadem, had they been obliged to submit their time and their actions
to the rigorous laws which that philosophic emperor imposed on himself.
One of his most intimate friends,  who had often shared the frugal
simplicity of his table, has remarked, that his light and sparing diet
(which was usually of the vegetable kind) left his mind and body always
free and active, for the various and important business of an author, a
pontiff, a magistrate, a general, and a prince. In one and the same day,
he gave audience to several ambassadors, and wrote, or dictated, a great
number of letters to his generals, his civil magistrates, his private
friends, and the different cities of his dominions. He listened to the
memorials which had been received, considered the subject of the
petitions, and signified his intentions more rapidly than they could be
taken in short-hand by the diligence of his secretaries. He possessed
such flexibility of thought, and such firmness of attention, that he
could employ his hand to write, his ear to listen, and his voice to
dictate; and pursue at once three several trains of ideas without
hesitation, and without error. While his ministers reposed, the prince
flew with agility from one labor to another, and, after a hasty dinner,
retired into his library, till the public business, which he had
appointed for the evening, summoned him to interrupt the prosecution of
his studies. The supper of the emperor was still less substantial than
the former meal; his sleep was never clouded by the fumes of
indigestion; and except in the short interval of a marriage, which was
the effect of policy rather than love, the chaste Julian never shared
his bed with a female companion.  He was soon awakened by the entrance
of fresh secretaries, who had slept the preceding day; and his servants
were obliged to wait alternately while their indefatigable master
allowed himself scarcely any other refreshment than the change of
occupation. The predecessors of Julian, his uncle, his brother, and his
cousin, indulged their puerile taste for the games of the Circus, under
the specious pretence of complying with the inclinations of the people;
and they frequently remained the greatest part of the day as idle
spectators, and as a part of the splendid spectacle, till the ordinary
round of twenty-four races  was completely finished. On solemn
festivals, Julian, who felt and professed an unfashionable dislike to
these frivolous amusements, condescended to appear in the Circus; and
after bestowing a careless glance at five or six of the races, he
hastily withdrew with the impatience of a philosopher, who considered
every moment as lost that was not devoted to the advantage of the public
or the improvement of his own mind.  By this avarice of time, he seemed
to protract the short duration of his reign; and if the dates were less
securely ascertained, we should refuse to believe, that only sixteen
months elapsed between the death of Constantius and the departure of his
successor for the Persian war. The actions of Julian can only be
preserved by the care of the historian; but the portion of his
voluminous writings, which is still extant, remains as a monument of the
application, as well as of the genius, of the emperor. The Misopogon,
the Cæsars, several of his orations, and his elaborate work against the
Christian religion, were composed in the long nights of the two winters,
the former of which he passed at Constantinople, and the latter at
Antioch.

The reformation of the Imperial court was one of the first and most
necessary acts of the government of Julian.  Soon after his entrance
into the palace of Constantinople, he had occasion for the service of a
barber. An officer, magnificently dressed, immediately presented
himself. "It is a barber," exclaimed the prince, with affected surprise,
"that I want, and not a receiver-general of the finances."  He
questioned the man concerning the profits of his employment and was
informed, that besides a large salary, and some valuable perquisites, he
enjoyed a daily allowance for twenty servants, and as many horses. A
thousand barbers, a thousand cup-bearers, a thousand cooks, were
distributed in the several offices of luxury; and the number of eunuchs
could be compared only with the insects of a summer's day.  The monarch
who resigned to his subjects the superiority of merit and virtue, was
distinguished by the oppressive magnificence of his dress, his table,
his buildings, and his train. The stately palaces erected by Constantine
and his sons, were decorated with many colored marbles, and ornaments of
massy gold. The most exquisite dainties were procured, to gratify their
pride, rather than their taste; birds of the most distant climates, fish
from the most remote seas, fruits out of their natural season, winter
roses, and summer snows.  The domestic crowd of the palace surpassed the
expense of the legions; yet the smallest part of this costly multitude
was subservient to the use, or even to the splendor, of the throne. The
monarch was disgraced, and the people was injured, by the creation and
sale of an infinite number of obscure, and even titular employments; and
the most worthless of mankind might purchase the privilege of being
maintained, without the necessity of labor, from the public revenue. The
waste of an enormous household, the increase of fees and perquisites,
which were soon claimed as a lawful debt, and the bribes which they
extorted from those who feared their enmity, or solicited their favor,
suddenly enriched these haughty menials. They abused their fortune,
without considering their past, or their future, condition; and their
rapine and venality could be equalled only by the extravagance of their
dissipations. Their silken robes were embroidered with gold, their
tables were served with delicacy and profusion; the houses which they
built for their own use, would have covered the farm of an ancient
consul; and the most honorable citizens were obliged to dismount from
their horses, and respectfully to salute a eunuch whom they met on the
public highway. The luxury of the palace excited the contempt and
indignation of Julian, who usually slept on the ground, who yielded with
reluctance to the indispensable calls of nature; and who placed his
vanity, not in emulating, but in despising, the pomp of royalty.

By the total extirpation of a mischief which was magnified even beyond
its real extent, he was impatient to relieve the distress, and to
appease the murmurs of the people; who support with less uneasiness the
weight of taxes, if they are convinced that the fruits of their industry
are appropriated to the service of the state. But in the execution of
this salutary work, Julian is accused of proceeding with too much haste
and inconsiderate severity. By a single edict, he reduced the palace of
Constantinople to an immense desert, and dismissed with ignominy the
whole train of slaves and dependants,  without providing any just, or at
least benevolent, exceptions, for the age, the services, or the poverty,
of the faithful domestics of the Imperial family. Such indeed was the
temper of Julian, who seldom recollected the fundamental maxim of
Aristotle, that true virtue is placed at an equal distance between the
opposite vices. The splendid and effeminate dress of the Asiatics, the
curls and paint, the collars and bracelets, which had appeared so
ridiculous in the person of Constantine, were consistently rejected by
his philosophic successor. But with the fopperies, Julian affected to
renounce the decencies of dress; and seemed to value himself for his
neglect of the laws of cleanliness. In a satirical performance, which
was designed for the public eye, the emperor descants with pleasure, and
even with pride, on the length of his nails, and the inky blackness of
his hands; protests, that although the greatest part of his body was
covered with hair, the use of the razor was confined to his head alone;
and celebrates, with visible complacency, the shaggy and populousbeard,
which he fondly cherished, after the example of the philosophers of
Greece. Had Julian consulted the simple dictates of reason, the first
magistrate of the Romans would have scorned the affectation of Diogenes,
as well as that of Darius.

But the work of public reformation would have remained imperfect, if
Julian had only corrected the abuses, without punishing the crimes, of
his predecessor's reign. "We are now delivered," says he, in a familiar
letter to one of his intimate friends, "we are now surprisingly
delivered from the voracious jaws of the Hydra.  I do not mean to apply
the epithet to my brother Constantius. He is no more; may the earth lie
light on his head! But his artful and cruel favorites studied to deceive
and exasperate a prince, whose natural mildness cannot be praised
without some efforts of adulation. It is not, however, my intention,
that even those men should be oppressed: they are accused, and they
shall enjoy the benefit of a fair and impartial trial." To conduct this
inquiry, Julian named six judges of the highest rank in the state and
army; and as he wished to escape the reproach of condemning his personal
enemies, he fixed this extraordinary tribunal at Chalcedon, on the
Asiatic side of the Bosphorus; and transferred to the commissioners an
absolute power to pronounce and execute their final sentence, without
delay, and without appeal. The office of president was exercised by the
venerable præfect of the East, a second Sallust,  whose virtues
conciliated the esteem of Greek sophists, and of Christian bishops. He
was assisted by the eloquent Mamertinus,  one of the consuls elect,
whose merit is loudly celebrated by the doubtful evidence of his own
applause. But the civil wisdom of two magistrates was overbalanced by
the ferocious violence of four generals, Nevitta, Agilo, Jovinus, and
Arbetio. Arbetio, whom the public would have seen with less surprise at
the bar than on the bench, was supposed to possess the secret of the
commission; the armed and angry leaders of the Jovian and Herculian
bands encompassed the tribunal; and the judges were alternately swayed
by the laws of justice, and by the clamors of faction.

The chamberlain Eusebius, who had so long abused the favor of
Constantius, expiated, by an ignominious death, the insolence, the
corruption, and cruelty of his servile reign. The executions of Paul and
Apodemius (the former of whom was burnt alive) were accepted as an
inadequate atonement by the widows and orphans of so many hundred
Romans, whom those legal tyrants had betrayed and murdered. But justice
herself (if we may use the pathetic expression of Ammianus ) appeared to
weep over the fate of Ursulus, the treasurer of the empire; and his
blood accused the ingratitude of Julian, whose distress had been
seasonably relieved by the intrepid liberality of that honest minister.
The rage of the soldiers, whom he had provoked by his indiscretion, was
the cause and the excuse of his death; and the emperor, deeply wounded
by his own reproaches and those of the public, offered some consolation
to the family of Ursulus, by the restitution of his confiscated
fortunes. Before the end of the year in which they had been adorned with
the ensigns of the prefecture and consulship,  Taurus and Florentius
were reduced to implore the clemency of the inexorable tribunal of
Chalcedon. The former was banished to Vercellæin Italy, and a sentence
of death was pronounced against the latter. A wise prince should have
rewarded the crime of Taurus: the faithful minister, when he was no
longer able to oppose the progress of a rebel, had taken refuge in the
court of his benefactor and his lawful sovereign. But the guilt of
Florentius justified the severity of the judges; and his escape served
to display the magnanimity of Julian, who nobly checked the interested
diligence of an informer, and refused to learn what place concealed the
wretched fugitive from his just resentment.  Some months after the
tribunal of Chalcedon had been dissolved, the prætorian vicegerent of
Africa, the notary Gaudentius, and Artemius  duke of Egypt, were
executed at Antioch. Artemius had reigned the cruel and corrupt tyrant
of a great province; Gaudentius had long practised the arts of calumny
against the innocent, the virtuous, and even the person of Julian
himself. Yet the circumstances of their trial and condemnation were so
unskillfully managed, that these wicked men obtained, in the public
opinion, the glory of suffering for the obstinate loyalty with which
they had supported the cause of Constantius. The rest of his servants
were protected by a general act of oblivion; and they were left to enjoy
with impunity the bribes which they had accepted, either to defend the
oppressed, or to oppress the friendless. This measure, which, on the
soundest principles of policy, may deserve our approbation, was executed
in a manner which seemed to degrade the majesty of the throne. Julian
was tormented by the importunities of a multitude, particularly of
Egyptians, who loudly redemanded the gifts which they had imprudently or
illegally bestowed; he foresaw the endless prosecution of vexatious
suits; and he engaged a promise, which ought always to have been sacred,
that if they would repair to Chalcedon, he would meet them in person, to
hear and determine their complaints. But as soon as they were landed, he
issued an absolute order, which prohibited the watermen from
transporting any Egyptian to Constantinople; and thus detained his
disappointed clients on the Asiatic shore till, their patience and money
being utterly exhausted, they were obliged to return with indignant
murmurs to their native country.

Chapter XXII: Julian Declared Emperor. -- Part IV.

The numerous army of spies, of agents, and informers enlisted by
Constantius to secure the repose of one man, and to interrupt that of
millions, was immediately disbanded by his generous successor. Julian
was slow in his suspicions, and gentle in his punishments; and his
contempt of treason was the result of judgment, of vanity, and of
courage. Conscious of superior merit, he was persuaded that few among
his subjects would dare to meet him in the field, to attempt his life,
or even to seat themselves on his vacant throne. The philosopher could
excuse the hasty sallies of discontent; and the hero could despise the
ambitious projects which surpassed the fortune or the abilities of the
rash conspirators. A citizen of Ancyra had prepared for his own use a
purple garment; and this indiscreet action, which, under the reign of
Constantius, would have been considered as a capital offence,  was
reported to Julian by the officious importunity of a private enemy. The
monarch, after making some inquiry into the rank and character of his
rival, despatched the informer with a present of a pair of purple
slippers, to complete the magnificence of his Imperial habit. A more
dangerous conspiracy was formed by ten of the domestic guards, who had
resolved to assassinate Julian in the field of exercise near Antioch.
Their intemperance revealed their guilt; and they were conducted in
chains to the presence of their injured sovereign, who, after a lively
representation of the wickedness and folly of their enterprise, instead
of a death of torture, which they deserved and expected, pronounced a
sentence of exile against the two principal offenders. The only instance
in which Julian seemed to depart from his accustomed clemency, was the
execution of a rash youth, who, with a feeble hand, had aspired to seize
the reins of empire. But that youth was the son of Marcellus, the
general of cavalry, who, in the first campaign of the Gallic war, had
deserted the standard of the Cæsar and the republic. Without appearing
to indulge his personal resentment, Julian might easily confound the
crime of the son and of the father; but he was reconciled by the
distress of Marcellus, and the liberality of the emperor endeavored to
heal the wound which had been inflicted by the hand of justice.

Julian was not insensible of the advantages of freedom.  From his
studies he had imbibed the spirit of ancient sages and heroes; his life
and fortunes had depended on the caprice of a tyrant; and when he
ascended the throne, his pride was sometimes mortified by the
reflection, that the slaves who would not dare to censure his defects
were not worthy to applaud his virtues.  He sincerely abhorred the
system of Oriental despotism, which Diocletian, Constantine, and the
patient habits of fourscore years, had established in the empire. A
motive of superstition prevented the execution of the design, which
Julian had frequently meditated, of relieving his head from the weight
of a costly diadem;  but he absolutely refused the title of Dominus, or
Lord,  a word which was grown so familiar to the ears of the Romans,
that they no longer remembered its servile and humiliating origin. The
office, or rather the name, of consul, was cherished by a prince who
contemplated with reverence the ruins of the republic; and the same
behavior which had been assumed by the prudence of Augustus was adopted
by Julian from choice and inclination. On the calends of January, at
break of day, the new consuls, Mamertinus and Nevitta, hastened to the
palace to salute the emperor. As soon as he was informed of their
approach, he leaped from his throne, eagerly advanced to meet them, and
compelled the blushing magistrates to receive the demonstrations of his
affected humility. From the palace they proceeded to the senate. The
emperor, on foot, marched before their litters; and the gazing multitude
admired the image of ancient times, or secretly blamed a conduct, which,
in their eyes, degraded the majesty of the purple.  But the behavior of
Julian was uniformly supported. During the games of the Circus, he had,
imprudently or designedly, performed the manumission of a slave in the
presence of the consul. The moment he was reminded that he had
trespassed on the jurisdiction of anothermagistrate, he condemned
himself to pay a fine of ten pounds of gold; and embraced this public
occasion of declaring to the world, that he was subject, like the rest
of his fellow-citizens, to the laws,  and even to the forms, of the
republic. The spirit of his administration, and his regard for the place
of his nativity, induced Julian to confer on the senate of
Constantinople the same honors, privileges, and authority, which were
still enjoyed by the senate of ancient Rome.  A legal fiction was
introduced, and gradually established, that one half of the national
council had migrated into the East; and the despotic successors of
Julian, accepting the title of Senators, acknowledged themselves the
members of a respectable body, which was permitted to represent the
majesty of the Roman name. From Constantinople, the attention of the
monarch was extended to the municipal senates of the provinces. He
abolished, by repeated edicts, the unjust and pernicious exemptions
which had withdrawn so many idle citizens from the services of their
country; and by imposing an equal distribution of public duties, he
restored the strength, the splendor, or, according to the glowing
expression of Libanius,  the soul of the expiring cities of his empire.
The venerable age of Greece excited the most tender compassion in the
mind of Julian, which kindled into rapture when he recollected the gods,
the heroes, and the men superior to heroes and to gods, who have
bequeathed to the latest posterity the monuments of their genius, or the
example of their virtues. He relieved the distress, and restored the
beauty, of the cities of Epirus and Peloponnesus.  Athens acknowledged
him for her benefactor; Argos, for her deliverer. The pride of Corinth,
again rising from her ruins with the honors of a Roman colony, exacted a
tribute from the adjacent republics, for the purpose of defraying the
games of the Isthmus, which were celebrated in the amphitheatre with the
hunting of bears and panthers. From this tribute the cities of Elis, of
Delphi, and of Argos, which had inherited from their remote ancestors
the sacred office of perpetuating the Olympic, the Pythian, and the
Nemean games, claimed a just exemption. The immunity of Elis and Delphi
was respected by the Corinthians; but the poverty of Argos tempted the
insolence of oppression; and the feeble complaints of its deputies were
silenced by the decree of a provincial magistrate, who seems to have
consulted only the interest of the capital in which he resided. Seven
years after this sentence, Julian  allowed the cause to be referred to a
superior tribunal; and his eloquence was interposed, most probably with
success, in the defence of a city, which had been the royal seat of
Agamemnon,  and had given to Macedonia a race of kings and conquerors.

The laborious administration of military and civil affairs, which were
multiplied in proportion to the extent of the empire, exercised the
abilities of Julian; but he frequently assumed the two characters of
Orator  and of Judge,  which are almost unknown to the modern sovereigns
of Europe. The arts of persuasion, so diligently cultivated by the first
Cæsars, were neglected by the military ignorance and Asiatic pride of
their successors; and if they condescended to harangue the soldiers,
whom they feared, they treated with silent disdain the senators, whom
they despised. The assemblies of the senate, which Constantius had
avoided, were considered by Julian as the place where he could exhibit,
with the most propriety, the maxims of a republican, and the talents of
a rhetorician. He alternately practised, as in a school of declamation,
the several modes of praise, of censure, of exhortation; and his friend
Libanius has remarked, that the study of Homer taught him to imitate the
simple, concise style of Menelaus, the copiousness of Nestor, whose
words descended like the flakes of a winter's snow, or the pathetic and
forcible eloquence of Ulysses. The functions of a judge, which are
sometimes incompatible with those of a prince, were exercised by Julian,
not only as a duty, but as an amusement; and although he might have
trusted the integrity and discernment of his Prætorian præfects, he
often placed himself by their side on the seat of judgment. The acute
penetration of his mind was agreeably occupied in detecting and
defeating the chicanery of the advocates, who labored to disguise the
truths of facts, and to pervert the sense of the laws. He sometimes
forgot the gravity of his station, asked indiscreet or unseasonable
questions, and betrayed, by the loudness of his voice, and the agitation
of his body, the earnest vehemence with which he maintained his opinion
against the judges, the advocates, and their clients. But his knowledge
of his own temper prompted him to encourage, and even to solicit, the
reproof of his friends and ministers; and whenever they ventured to
oppose the irregular sallies of his passions, the spectators could
observe the shame, as well as the gratitude, of their monarch. The
decrees of Julian were almost always founded on the principles of
justice; and he had the firmness to resist the two most dangerous
temptations, which assault the tribunal of a sovereign, under the
specious forms of compassion and equity. He decided the merits of the
cause without weighing the circumstances of the parties; and the poor,
whom he wished to relieve, were condemned to satisfy the just demands of
a wealthy and noble adversary. He carefully distinguished the judge from
the legislator;  and though he meditated a necessary reformation of the
Roman jurisprudence, he pronounced sentence according to the strict and
literal interpretation of those laws, which the magistrates were bound
to execute, and the subjects to obey.

The generality of princes, if they were stripped of their purple, and
cast naked into the world, would immediately sink to the lowest rank of
society, without a hope of emerging from their obscurity. But the
personal merit of Julian was, in some measure, independent of his
fortune. Whatever had been his choice of life, by the force of intrepid
courage, lively wit, and intense application, he would have obtained, or
at least he would have deserved, the highest honors of his profession;
and Julian might have raised himself to the rank of minister, or
general, of the state in which he was born a private citizen. If the
jealous caprice of power had disappointed his expectations, if he had
prudently declined the paths of greatness, the employment of the same
talents in studious solitude would have placed beyond the reach of kings
his present happiness and his immortal fame. When we inspect, with
minute, or perhaps malevolent attention, the portrait of Julian,
something seems wanting to the grace and perfection of the whole figure.
His genius was less powerful and sublime than that of Cæsar; nor did he
possess the consummate prudence of Augustus. The virtues of Trajan
appear more steady and natural, and the philosophy of Marcus is more
simple and consistent. Yet Julian sustained adversity with firmness, and
prosperity with moderation. After an interval of one hundred and twenty
years from the death of Alexander Severus, the Romans beheld an emperor
who made no distinction between his duties and his pleasures; who
labored to relieve the distress, and to revive the spirit, of his
subjects; and who endeavored always to connect authority with merit, and
happiness with virtue. Even faction, and religious faction, was
constrained to acknowledge the superiority of his genius, in peace as
well as in war, and to confess, with a sigh, that the apostate Julian
was a lover of his country, and that he deserved the empire of the
world.

Chapter XXIII: Reign Of Julian. Part I.

The Religion Of Julian. -- Universal Toleration. -- He Attempts To
Restore And Reform The Pagan Worship -- To Rebuild The Temple Of
Jerusalem -- His Artful Persecution Of The Christians. -- Mutual Zeal
And Injustice.

The character of Apostate has injured the reputation of Julian; and the
enthusiasm which clouded his virtues has exaggerated the real and
apparent magnitude of his faults. Our partial ignorance may represent
him as a philosophic monarch, who studied to protect, with an equal
hand, the religious factions of the empire; and to allay the theological
fever which had inflamed the minds of the people, from the edicts of
Diocletian to the exile of Athanasius. A more accurate view of the
character and conduct of Julian will remove this favorable prepossession
for a prince who did not escape the general contagion of the times. We
enjoy the singular advantage of comparing the pictures which have been
delineated by his fondest admirers and his implacable enemies. The
actions of Julian are faithfully related by a judicious and candid
historian, the impartial spectator of his life and death. The unanimous
evidence of his contemporaries is confirmed by the public and private
declarations of the emperor himself; and his various writings express
the uniform tenor of his religious sentiments, which policy would have
prompted him to dissemble rather than to affect. A devout and sincere
attachment for the gods of Athens and Rome constituted the ruling
passion of Julian;  the powers of an enlightened understanding were
betrayed and corrupted by the influence of superstitious prejudice; and
the phantoms which existed only in the mind of the emperor had a real
and pernicious effect on the government of the empire. The vehement zeal
of the Christians, who despised the worship, and overturned the altars
of those fabulous deities, engaged their votary in a state of
irreconcilable hostility with a very numerous party of his subjects; and
he was sometimes tempted by the desire of victory, or the shame of a
repulse, to violate the laws of prudence, and even of justice. The
triumph of the party, which he deserted and opposed, has fixed a stain
of infamy on the name of Julian; and the unsuccessful apostate has been
overwhelmed with a torrent of pious invectives, of which the signal was
given by the sonorous trumpet  of Gregory Nazianzen.  The interesting
nature of the events which were crowded into the short reign of this
active emperor, deserve a just and circumstantial narrative. His
motives, his counsels, and his actions, as far as they are connected
with the history of religion, will be the subject of the present
chapter.

The cause of his strange and fatal apostasy may be derived from the
early period of his life, when he was left an orphan in the hands of the
murderers of his family. The names of Christ and of Constantius, the
ideas of slavery and of religion, were soon associated in a youthful
imagination, which was susceptible of the most lively impressions. The
care of his infancy was intrusted to Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia,  who
was related to him on the side of his mother; and till Julian reached
the twentieth year of his age, he received from his Christian preceptors
the education, not of a hero, but of a saint. The emperor, less jealous
of a heavenly than of an earthly crown, contented himself with the
imperfect character of a catechumen, while he bestowed the advantages of
baptism  on the nephews of Constantine.  They were even admitted to the
inferior offices of the ecclesiastical order; and Julian publicly read
the Holy Scriptures in the church of Nicomedia. The study of religion,
which they assiduously cultivated, appeared to produce the fairest
fruits of faith and devotion.  They prayed, they fasted, they
distributed alms to the poor, gifts to the clergy, and oblations to the
tombs of the martyrs; and the splendid monument of St. Mamas, at
Cæsarea, was erected, or at least was undertaken, by the joint labor of
Gallus and Julian.  They respectfully conversed with the bishops, who
were eminent for superior sanctity, and solicited the benediction of the
monks and hermits, who had introduced into Cappadocia the voluntary
hardships of the ascetic life.  As the two princes advanced towards the
years of manhood, they discovered, in their religious sentiments, the
difference of their characters. The dull and obstinate understanding of
Gallus embraced, with implicit zeal, the doctrines of Christianity;
which never influenced his conduct, or moderated his passions. The mild
disposition of the younger brother was less repugnant to the precepts of
the gospel; and his active curiosity might have been gratified by a
theological system, which explains the mysterious essence of the Deity,
and opens the boundless prospect of invisible and future worlds. But the
independent spirit of Julian refused to yield the passive and
unresisting obedience which was required, in the name of religion, by
the haughty ministers of the church. Their speculative opinions were
imposed as positive laws, and guarded by the terrors of eternal
punishments; but while they prescribed the rigid formulary of the
thoughts, the words, and the actions of the young prince; whilst they
silenced his objections, and severely checked the freedom of his
inquiries, they secretly provoked his impatient genius to disclaim the
authority of his ecclesiastical guides. He was educated in the Lesser
Asia, amidst the scandals of the Arian controversy.  The fierce contests
of the Eastern bishops, the incessant alterations of their creeds, and
the profane motives which appeared to actuate their conduct, insensibly
strengthened the prejudice of Julian, that they neither understood nor
believed the religion for which they so fiercely contended. Instead of
listening to the proofs of Christianity with that favorable attention
which adds weight to the most respectable evidence, he heard with
suspicion, and disputed with obstinacy and acuteness, the doctrines for
which he already entertained an invincible aversion. Whenever the young
princes were directed to compose declamations on the subject of the
prevailing controversies, Julian always declared himself the advocate of
Paganism; under the specious excuse that, in the defence of the weaker
cause, his learning and ingenuity might be more advantageously exercised
and displayed.

As soon as Gallus was invested with the honors of the purple, Julian was
permitted to breathe the air of freedom, of literature, and of Paganism.
The crowd of sophists, who were attracted by the taste and liberality of
their royal pupil, had formed a strict alliance between the learning and
the religion of Greece; and the poems of Homer, instead of being admired
as the original productions of human genius, were seriously ascribed to
the heavenly inspiration of Apollo and the muses. The deities of
Olympus, as they are painted by the immortal bard, imprint themselves on
the minds which are the least addicted to superstitious credulity. Our
familiar knowledge of their names and characters, their forms and
attributes, seemsto bestow on those airy beings a real and substantial
existence; and the pleasing enchantment produces an imperfect and
momentary assent of the imagination to those fables, which are the most
repugnant to our reason and experience. In the age of Julian, every
circumstance contributed to prolong and fortify the illusion; the
magnificent temples of Greece and Asia; the works of those artists who
had expressed, in painting or in sculpture, the divine conceptions of
the poet; the pomp of festivals and sacrifices; the successful arts of
divination; the popular traditions of oracles and prodigies; and the
ancient practice of two thousand years. The weakness of polytheism was,
in some measure, excused by the moderation of its claims; and the
devotion of the Pagans was not incompatible with the most licentious
scepticism.  Instead of an indivisible and regular system, which
occupies the whole extent of the believing mind, the mythology of the
Greeks was composed of a thousand loose and flexible parts, and the
servant of the gods was at liberty to define the degree and measure of
his religious faith. The creed which Julian adopted for his own use was
of the largest dimensions; and, by strange contradiction, he disdained
the salutary yoke of the gospel, whilst he made a voluntary offering of
his reason on the altars of Jupiter and Apollo. One of the orations of
Julian is consecrated to the honor of Cybele, the mother of the gods,
who required from her effeminate priests the bloody sacrifice, so rashly
performed by the madness of the Phrygian boy. The pious emperor
condescends to relate, without a blush, and without a smile, the voyage
of the goddess from the shores of Pergamus to the mouth of the Tyber,
and the stupendous miracle, which convinced the senate and people of
Rome that the lump of clay, which their ambassadors had transported over
the seas, was endowed with life, and sentiment, and divine power.  For
the truth of this prodigy he appeals to the public monuments of the
city; and censures, with some acrimony, the sickly and affected taste of
those men, who impertinently derided the sacred traditions of their
ancestors.

But the devout philosopher, who sincerely embraced, and warmly
encouraged, the superstition of the people, reserved for himself the
privilege of a liberal interpretation; and silently withdrew from the
foot of the altars into the sanctuary of the temple. The extravagance of
the Grecian mythology proclaimed, with a clear and audible voice, that
the pious inquirer, instead of being scandalized or satisfied with the
literal sense, should diligently explore the occult wisdom, which had
been disguised, by the prudence of antiquity, under the mask of folly
and of fable.  The philosophers of the Platonic school,  Plotinus,
Porphyry, and the divine Iamblichus, were admired as the most skilful
masters of this allegorical science, which labored to soften and
harmonize the deformed features of Paganism. Julian himself, who was
directed in the mysterious pursuit by Ædesius, the venerable successor
of Iamblichus, aspired to the possession of a treasure, which he
esteemed, if we may credit his solemn asseverations, far above the
empire of the world.  It was indeed a treasure, which derived its value
only from opinion; and every artist who flattered himself that he had
extracted the precious ore from the surrounding dross, claimed an equal
right of stamping the name and figure the most agreeable to his peculiar
fancy. The fable of Atys and Cybele had been already explained by
Porphyry; but his labors served only to animate the pious industry of
Julian, who invented and published his own allegory of that ancient and
mystic tale. This freedom of interpretation, which might gratify the
pride of the Platonists, exposed the vanity of their art. Without a
tedious detail, the modern reader could not form a just idea of the
strange allusions, the forced etymologies, the solemn trifling, and the
impenetrable obscurity of these sages, who professed to reveal the
system of the universe. As the traditions of Pagan mythology were
variously related, the sacred interpreters were at liberty to select the
most convenient circumstances; and as they translated an arbitrary
cipher, they could extract from anyfable anysense which was adapted to
their favorite system of religion and philosophy. The lascivious form of
a naked Venus was tortured into the discovery of some moral precept, or
some physical truth; and the castration of Atys explained the revolution
of the sun between the tropics, or the separation of the human soul from
vice and error.

The theological system of Julian appears to have contained the sublime
and important principles of natural religion. But as the faith, which is
not founded on revelation, must remain destitute of any firm assurance,
the disciple of Plato imprudently relapsed into the habits of vulgar
superstition; and the popular and philosophic notion of the Deity seems
to have been confounded in the practice, the writings, and even in the
mind of Julian.  The pious emperor acknowledged and adored the Eternal
Cause of the universe, to whom he ascribed all the perfections of an
infinite nature, invisible to the eyes and inaccessible to the
understanding, of feeble mortals. The Supreme God had created, or
rather, in the Platonic language, had generated, the gradual succession
of dependent spirits, of gods, of dæmons, of heroes, and of men; and
every being which derived its existence immediately from the First
Cause, received the inherent gift of immortality. That so precious an
advantage might be lavished upon unworthy objects, the Creator had
intrusted to the skill and power of the inferior gods the office of
forming the human body, and of arranging the beautiful harmony of the
animal, the vegetable, and the mineral kingdoms. To the conduct of these
divine ministers he delegated the temporal government of this lower
world; but their imperfect administration is not exempt from discord or
error. The earth and its inhabitants are divided among them, and the
characters of Mars or Minerva, of Mercury or Venus, may be distinctly
traced in the laws and manners of their peculiar votaries. As long as
our immortal souls are confined in a mortal prison, it is our interest,
as well as our duty, to solicit the favor, and to deprecate the wrath,
of the powers of heaven; whose pride is gratified by the devotion of
mankind; and whose grosser parts may be supposed to derive some
nourishment from the fumes of sacrifice.  The inferior gods might
sometimes condescend to animate the statues, and to inhabit the temples,
which were dedicated to their honor. They might occasionally visit the
earth, but the heavens were the proper throne and symbol of their glory.
The invariable order of the sun, moon, and stars, was hastily admitted
by Julian, as a proof of their eternalduration; and their eternity was a
sufficient evidence that they were the workmanship, not of an inferior
deity, but of the Omnipotent King. In the system of Platonists, the
visible was a type of the invisible world. The celestial bodies, as they
were informed by a divine spirit, might be considered as the objects the
most worthy of religious worship. The Sun, whose genial influence
pervades and sustains the universe, justly claimed the adoration of
mankind, as the bright representative of the Logos, the lively, the
rational, the beneficent image of the intellectual Father.

In every age, the absence of genuine inspiration is supplied by the
strong illusions of enthusiasm, and the mimic arts of imposture. If, in
the time of Julian, these arts had been practised only by the pagan
priests, for the support of an expiring cause, some indulgence might
perhaps be allowed to the interest and habits of the sacerdotal
character. But it may appear a subject of surprise and scandal, that the
philosophers themselves should have contributed to abuse the
superstitious credulity of mankind,  and that the Grecian mysteries
should have been supported by the magic or theurgy of the modern
Platonists. They arrogantly pretended to control the order of nature, to
explore the secrets of futurity, to command the service of the inferior
dæmons, to enjoy the view and conversation of the superior gods, and by
disengaging the soul from her material bands, to reunite that immortal
particle with the Infinite and Divine Spirit.

The devout and fearless curiosity of Julian tempted the philosophers
with the hopes of an easy conquest; which, from the situation of their
young proselyte, might be productive of the most important consequences.
Julian imbibed the first rudiments of the Platonic doctrines from the
mouth of Ædesius, who had fixed at Pergamus his wandering and persecuted
school. But as the declining strength of that venerable sage was unequal
to the ardor, the diligence, the rapid conception of his pupil, two of
his most learned disciples, Chrysanthes and Eusebius, supplied, at his
own desire, the place of their aged master. These philosophers seem to
have prepared and distributed their respective parts; and they artfully
contrived, by dark hints and affected disputes, to excite the impatient
hopes of the aspirant, till they delivered him into the hands of their
associate, Maximus, the boldest and most skilful master of the Theurgic
science. By his hands, Julian was secretly initiated at Ephesus, in the
twentieth year of his age. His residence at Athens confirmed this
unnatural alliance of philosophy and superstition. He obtained the
privilege of a solemn initiation into the mysteries of Eleusis, which,
amidst the general decay of the Grecian worship, still retained some
vestiges of their primæval sanctity; and such was the zeal of Julian,
that he afterwards invited the Eleusinian pontiff to the court of Gaul,
for the sole purpose of consummating, by mystic rites and sacrifices,
the great work of his sanctification. As these ceremonies were performed
in the depth of caverns, and in the silence of the night, and as the
inviolable secret of the mysteries was preserved by the discretion of
the initiated, I shall not presume to describe the horrid sounds, and
fiery apparitions, which were presented to the senses, or the
imagination, of the credulous aspirant,  till the visions of comfort and
knowledge broke upon him in a blaze of celestial light.  In the caverns
of Ephesus and Eleusis, the mind of Julian was penetrated with sincere,
deep, and unalterable enthusiasm; though he might sometimes exhibit the
vicissitudes of pious fraud and hypocrisy, which may be observed, or at
least suspected, in the characters of the most conscientious fanatics.
From that moment he consecrated his life to the service of the gods; and
while the occupations of war, of government, and of study, seemed to
claim the whole measure of his time, a stated portion of the hours of
the night was invariably reserved for the exercise of private devotion.
The temperance which adorned the severe manners of the soldier and the
philosopher was connected with some strict and frivolous rules of
religious abstinence; and it was in honor of Pan or Mercury, of Hecate
or Isis, that Julian, on particular days, denied himself the use of some
particular food, which might have been offensive to his tutelar deities.
By these voluntary fasts, he prepared his senses and his understanding
for the frequent and familiar visits with which he was honored by the
celestial powers. Notwithstanding the modest silence of Julian himself,
we may learn from his faithful friend, the orator Libanius, that he
lived in a perpetual intercourse with the gods and goddesses; that they
descended upon earth to enjoy the conversation of their favorite hero;
that they gently interrupted his slumbers by touching his hand or his
hair; that they warned him of every impending danger, and conducted him,
by their infallible wisdom, in every action of his life; and that he had
acquired such an intimate knowledge of his heavenly guests, as readily
to distinguish the voice of Jupiter from that of Minerva, and the form
of Apollo from the figure of Hercules.  These sleeping or waking
visions, the ordinary effects of abstinence and fanaticism, would almost
degrade the emperor to the level of an Egyptian monk. But the useless
lives of Antony or Pachomius were consumed in these vain occupations.
Julian could break from the dream of superstition to arm himself for
battle; and after vanquishing in the field the enemies of Rome, he
calmly retired into his tent, to dictate the wise and salutary laws of
an empire, or to indulge his genius in the elegant pursuits of
literature and philosophy.

The important secret of the apostasy of Julian was intrusted to the
fidelity of the initiated, with whom he was united by the sacred ties of
friendship and religion.  The pleasing rumor was cautiously circulated
among the adherents of the ancient worship; and his future greatness
became the object of the hopes, the prayers, and the predictions of the
Pagans, in every province of the empire. From the zeal and virtues of
their royal proselyte, they fondly expected the cure of every evil, and
the restoration of every blessing; and instead of disapproving of the
ardor of their pious wishes, Julian ingenuously confessed, that he was
ambitious to attain a situation in which he might be useful to his
country and to his religion. But this religion was viewed with a hostile
eye by the successor of Constantine, whose capricious passions
alternately saved and threatened the life of Julian. The arts of magic
and divination were strictly prohibited under a despotic government,
which condescended to fear them; and if the Pagans were reluctantly
indulged in the exercise of their superstition, the rank of Julian would
have excepted him from the general toleration. The apostate soon became
the presumptive heir of the monarchy, and his death could alone have
appeased the just apprehensions of the Christians.  But the young
prince, who aspired to the glory of a hero rather than of a martyr,
consulted his safety by dissembling his religion; and the easy temper of
polytheism permitted him to join in the public worship of a sect which
he inwardly despised. Libanius has considered the hypocrisy of his
friend as a subject, not of censure, but of praise. "As the statues of
the gods," says that orator, "which have been defiled with filth, are
again placed in a magnificent temple, so the beauty of truth was seated
in the mind of Julian, after it had been purified from the errors and
follies of his education. His sentiments were changed; but as it would
have been dangerous to have avowed his sentiments, his conduct still
continued the same. Very different from the ass in Æsop, who disguised
himself with a lion's hide, our lion was obliged to conceal himself
under the skin of an ass; and, while he embraced the dictates of reason,
to obey the laws of prudence and necessity."  The dissimulation of
Julian lasted about ten years, from his secret initiation at Ephesus to
the beginning of the civil war; when he declared himself at once the
implacable enemy of Christ and of Constantius. This state of constraint
might contribute to strengthen his devotion; and as soon as he had
satisfied the obligation of assisting, on solemn festivals, at the
assemblies of the Christians, Julian returned, with the impatience of a
lover, to burn his free and voluntary incense on the domestic chapels of
Jupiter and Mercury. But as every act of dissimulation must be painful
to an ingenuous spirit, the profession of Christianity increased the
aversion of Julian for a religion which oppressed the freedom of his
mind, and compelled him to hold a conduct repugnant to the noblest
attributes of human nature, sincerity and courage.

Chapter XXIII: Reign Of Julian. -- Part II.

The inclination of Julian might prefer the gods of Homer, and of the
Scipios, to the new faith, which his uncle had established in the Roman
empire; and in which he himself had been sanctified by the sacrament of
baptism. But, as a philosopher, it was incumbent on him to justify his
dissent from Christianity, which was supported by the number of its
converts, by the chain of prophecy, the splendor of or miracles, and the
weight of evidence. The elaborate work,  which he composed amidst the
preparations of the Persian war, contained the substance of those
arguments which he had long revolved in his mind. Some fragments have
been transcribed and preserved, by his adversary, the vehement Cyril of
Alexandria;  and they exhibit a very singular mixture of wit and
learning, of sophistry and fanaticism. The elegance of the style and the
rank of the author, recommended his writings to the public attention;
and in the impious list of the enemies of Christianity, the celebrated
name of Porphyry was effaced by the superior merit or reputation of
Julian. The minds of the faithful were either seduced, or scandalized,
or alarmed; and the pagans, who sometimes presumed to engage in the
unequal dispute, derived, from the popular work of their Imperial
missionary, an inexhaustible supply of fallacious objections. But in the
assiduous prosecution of these theological studies, the emperor of the
Romans imbibed the illiberal prejudices and passions of a polemic
divine. He contracted an irrevocable obligation to maintain and
propagate his religious opinions; and whilst he secretly applauded the
strength and dexterity with which he wielded the weapons of controversy,
he was tempted to distrust the sincerity, or to despise the
understandings, of his antagonists, who could obstinately resist the
force of reason and eloquence.

The Christians, who beheld with horror and indignation the apostasy of
Julian, had much more to fear from his power than from his arguments.
The pagans, who were conscious of his fervent zeal, expected, perhaps
with impatience, that the flames of persecution should be immediately
kindled against the enemies of the gods; and that the ingenious malice
of Julian would invent some cruel refinements of death and torture which
had been unknown to the rude and inexperienced fury of his predecessors.
But the hopes, as well as the fears, of the religious factions were
apparently disappointed, by the prudent humanity of a prince,  who was
careful of his own fame, of the public peace, and of the rights of
mankind. Instructed by history and reflection, Julian was persuaded,
that if the diseases of the body may sometimes be cured by salutary
violence, neither steel nor fire can eradicate the erroneous opinions of
the mind. The reluctant victim may be dragged to the foot of the altar;
but the heart still abhors and disclaims the sacrilegious act of the
hand. Religious obstinacy is hardened and exasperated by oppression;
and, as soon as the persecution subsides, those who have yielded are
restored as penitents, and those who have resisted are honored as saints
and martyrs. If Julian adopted the unsuccessful cruelty of Diocletian
and his colleagues, he was sensible that he should stain his memory with
the name of a tyrant, and add new glories to the Catholic church, which
had derived strength and increase from the severity of the pagan
magistrates. Actuated by these motives, and apprehensive of disturbing
the repose of an unsettled reign, Julian surprised the world by an
edict, which was not unworthy of a statesman, or a philosopher. He
extended to all the inhabitants of the Roman world the benefits of a
free and equal toleration; and the only hardship which he inflicted on
the Christians, was to deprive them of the power of tormenting their
fellow-subjects, whom they stigmatized with the odious titles of
idolaters and heretics. The pagans received a gracious permission, or
rather an express order, to open All their temples;  and they were at
once delivered from the oppressive laws, and arbitrary vexations, which
they had sustained under the reign of Constantine, and of his sons. At
the same time the bishops and clergy, who had been banished by the Arian
monarch, were recalled from exile, and restored to their respective
churches; the Donatists, the Novatians, the Macedonians, the Eunomians,
and those who, with a more prosperous fortune, adhered to the doctrine
of the Council of Nice. Julian, who understood and derided their
theological disputes, invited to the palace the leaders of the hostile
sects, that he might enjoy the agreeable spectacle of their furious
encounters. The clamor of controversy sometimes provoked the emperor to
exclaim, "Hear me! the Franks have heard me, and the Alemanni;" but he
soon discovered that he was now engaged with more obstinate and
implacable enemies; and though he exerted the powers of oratory to
persuade them to live in concord, or at least in peace, he was perfectly
satisfied, before he dismissed them from his presence, that he had
nothing to dread from the union of the Christians. The impartial
Ammianus has ascribed this affected clemency to the desire of fomenting
the intestine divisions of the church, and the insidious design of
undermining the foundations of Christianity, was inseparably connected
with the zeal which Julian professed, to restore the ancient religion of
the empire.

As soon as he ascended the throne, he assumed, according to the custom
of his predecessors, the character of supreme pontiff; not only as the
most honorable title of Imperial greatness, but as a sacred and
important office; the duties of which he was resolved to execute with
pious diligence. As the business of the state prevented the emperor from
joining every day in the public devotion of his subjects, he dedicated a
domestic chapel to his tutelar deity the Sun; his gardens were filled
with statues and altars of the gods; and each apartment of the palace
displaced the appearance of a magnificent temple. Every morning he
saluted the parent of light with a sacrifice; the blood of another
victim was shed at the moment when the Sun sunk below the horizon; and
the Moon, the Stars, and the Genii of the night received their
respective and seasonable honors from the indefatigable devotion of
Julian. On solemn festivals, he regularly visited the temple of the god
or goddess to whom the day was peculiarly consecrated, and endeavored to
excite the religion of the magistrates and people by the example of his
own zeal. Instead of maintaining the lofty state of a monarch,
distinguished by the splendor of his purple, and encompassed by the
golden shields of his guards, Julian solicited, with respectful
eagerness, the meanest offices which contributed to the worship of the
gods. Amidst the sacred but licentious crowd of priests, of inferior
ministers, and of female dancers, who were dedicated to the service of
the temple, it was the business of the emperor to bring the wood, to
blow the fire, to handle the knife, to slaughter the victim, and,
thrusting his bloody hands into the bowels of the expiring animal, to
draw forth the heart or liver, and to read, with the consummate skill of
an haruspex, imaginary signs of future events. The wisest of the Pagans
censured this extravagant superstition, which affected to despise the
restraints of prudence and decency. Under the reign of a prince, who
practised the rigid maxims of economy, the expense of religious worship
consumed a very large portion of the revenue a constant supply of the
scarcest and most beautiful birds was transported from distant climates,
to bleed on the altars of the gods; a hundred oxen were frequently
sacrificed by Julian on one and the same day; and it soon became a
popular jest, that if he should return with conquest from the Persian
war, the breed of horned cattle must infallibly be extinguished. Yet
this expense may appear inconsiderable, when it is compared with the
splendid presents which were offered either by the hand, or by order, of
the emperor, to all the celebrated places of devotion in the Roman
world; and with the sums allotted to repair and decorate the ancient
temples, which had suffered the silent decay of time, or the recent
injuries of Christian rapine. Encouraged by the example, the
exhortations, the liberality, of their pious sovereign, the cities and
families resumed the practice of their neglected ceremonies. "Every part
of the world," exclaims Libanius, with devout transport, "displayed the
triumph of religion; and the grateful prospect of flaming altars,
bleeding victims, the smoke of incense, and a solemn train of priests
and prophets, without fear and without danger. The sound of prayer and
of music was heard on the tops of the highest mountains; and the same ox
afforded a sacrifice for the gods, and a supper for their joyous
votaries."

But the genius and power of Julian were unequal to the enterprise of
restoring a religion which was destitute of theological principles, of
moral precepts, and of ecclesiastical discipline; which rapidly hastened
to decay and dissolution, and was not susceptible of any solid or
consistent reformation. The jurisdiction of the supreme pontiff, more
especially after that office had been united with the Imperial dignity,
comprehended the whole extent of the Roman empire. Julian named for his
vicars, in the several provinces, the priests and philosophers whom he
esteemed the best qualified to cooperate in the execution of his great
design; and his pastoral letters,  if we may use that name, still
represent a very curious sketch of his wishes and intentions. He
directs, that in every city the sacerdotal order should be composed,
without any distinction of birth and fortune, of those persons who were
the most conspicuous for the love of the gods, and of men. "If they are
guilty," continues he, "of any scandalous offence, they should be
censured or degraded by the superior pontiff; but as long as they retain
their rank, they are entitled to the respect of the magistrates and
people. Their humility may be shown in the plainness of their domestic
garb; their dignity, in the pomp of holy vestments. When they are
summoned in their turn to officiate before the altar, they ought not,
during the appointed number of days, to depart from the precincts of the
temple; nor should a single day be suffered to elapse, without the
prayers and the sacrifice, which they are obliged to offer for the
prosperity of the state, and of individuals. The exercise of their
sacred functions requires an immaculate purity, both of mind and body;
and even when they are dismissed from the temple to the occupations of
common life, it is incumbent on them to excel in decency and virtue the
rest of their fellow-citizens. The priest of the gods should never be
seen in theatres or taverns. His conversation should be chaste, his diet
temperate, his friends of honorable reputation; and if he sometimes
visits the Forum or the Palace, he should appear only as the advocate of
those who have vainly solicited either justice or mercy. His studies
should be suited to the sanctity of his profession. Licentious tales, or
comedies, or satires, must be banished from his library, which ought
solely to consist of historical or philosophical writings; of history,
which is founded in truth, and of philosophy, which is connected with
religion. The impious opinions of the Epicureans and sceptics deserve
his abhorrence and contempt;  but he should diligently study the systems
of Pythagoras, of Plato, and of the Stoics, which unanimously teach that
there aregods; that the world is governed by their providence; that
their goodness is the source of every temporal blessing; and that they
have prepared for the human soul a future state of reward or
punishment." The Imperial pontiff inculcates, in the most persuasive
language, the duties of benevolence and hospitality; exhorts his
inferior clergy to recommend the universal practice of those virtues;
promises to assist their indigence from the public treasury; and
declares his resolution of establishing hospitals in every city, where
the poor should be received without any invidious distinction of country
or of religion. Julian beheld with envy the wise and humane regulations
of the church; and he very frankly confesses his intention to deprive
the Christians of the applause, as well as advantage, which they had
acquired by the exclusive practice of charity and beneficence.  The same
spirit of imitation might dispose the emperor to adopt several
ecclesiastical institutions, the use and importance of which were
approved by the success of his enemies. But if these imaginary plans of
reformation had been realized, the forced and imperfect copy would have
been less beneficial to Paganism, than honorable to Christianity.  The
Gentiles, who peaceably followed the customs of their ancestors, were
rather surprised than pleased with the introduction of foreign manners;
and in the short period of his reign, Julian had frequent occasions to
complain of the want of fervor of his own party.

The enthusiasm of Julian prompted him to embrace the friends of Jupiter
as his personal friends and brethren; and though he partially overlooked
the merit of Christian constancy, he admired and rewarded the noble
perseverance of those Gentiles who had preferred the favor of the gods
to that of the emperor.  If they cultivated the literature, as well as
the religion, of the Greeks, they acquired an additional claim to the
friendship of Julian, who ranked the Muses in the number of his tutelar
deities. In the religion which he had adopted, piety and learning were
almost synonymous;  and a crowd of poets, of rhetoricians, and of
philosophers, hastened to the Imperial court, to occupy the vacant
places of the bishops, who had seduced the credulity of Constantius. His
successor esteemed the ties of common initiation as far more sacred than
those of consanguinity; he chose his favorites among the sages, who were
deeply skilled in the occult sciences of magic and divination; and every
impostor, who pretended to reveal the secrets of futurity, was assured
of enjoying the present hour in honor and affluence.  Among the
philosophers, Maximus obtained the most eminent rank in the friendship
of his royal disciple, who communicated, with unreserved confidence, his
actions, his sentiments, and his religious designs, during the anxious
suspense of the civil war.  As soon as Julian had taken possession of
the palace of Constantinople, he despatched an honorable and pressing
invitation to Maximus, who then resided at Sardes in Lydia, with
Chrysanthius, the associate of his art and studies. The prudent and
superstitious Chrysanthius refused to undertake a journey which showed
itself, according to the rules of divination, with the most threatening
and malignant aspect: but his companion, whose fanaticism was of a
bolder cast, persisted in his interrogations, till he had extorted from
the gods a seeming consent to his own wishes, and those of the emperor.
The journey of Maximus through the cities of Asia displayed the triumph
of philosophic vanity; and the magistrates vied with each other in the
honorable reception which they prepared for the friend of their
sovereign. Julian was pronouncing an oration before the senate, when he
was informed of the arrival of Maximus. The emperor immediately
interrupted his discourse, advanced to meet him, and after a tender
embrace, conducted him by the hand into the midst of the assembly; where
he publicly acknowledged the benefits which he had derived from the
instructions of the philosopher. Maximus,  who soon acquired the
confidence, and influenced the councils of Julian, was insensibly
corrupted by the temptations of a court. His dress became more splendid,
his demeanor more lofty, and he was exposed, under a succeeding reign,
to a disgraceful inquiry into the means by which the disciple of Plato
had accumulated, in the short duration of his favor, a very scandalous
proportion of wealth. Of the other philosophers and sophists, who were
invited to the Imperial residence by the choice of Julian, or by the
success of Maximus, few were able to preserve their innocence or their
reputation.  The liberal gifts of money, lands, and houses, were
insufficient to satiate their rapacious avarice; and the indignation of
the people was justly excited by the remembrance of their abject poverty
and disinterested professions. The penetration of Julian could not
always be deceived: but he was unwilling to despise the characters of
those men whose talents deserved his esteem: he desired to escape the
double reproach of imprudence and inconstancy; and he was apprehensive
of degrading, in the eyes of the profane, the honor of letters and of
religion.

The favor of Julian was almost equally divided between the Pagans, who
had firmly adhered to the worship of their ancestors, and the
Christians, who prudently embraced the religion of their sovereign. The
acquisition of new proselytes  gratified the ruling passions of his
soul, superstition and vanity; and he was heard to declare, with the
enthusiasm of a missionary, that if he could render each individual
richer than Midas, and every city greater than Babylon, he should not
esteem himself the benefactor of mankind, unless, at the same time, he
could reclaim his subjects from their impious revolt against the
immortal gods.  A prince who had studied human nature, and who possessed
the treasures of the Roman empire, could adapt his arguments, his
promises, and his rewards, to every order of Christians;  and the merit
of a seasonable conversion was allowed to supply the defects of a
candidate, or even to expiate the guilt of a criminal. As the army is
the most forcible engine of absolute power, Julian applied himself, with
peculiar diligence, to corrupt the religion of his troops, without whose
hearty concurrence every measure must be dangerous and unsuccessful; and
the natural temper of soldiers made this conquest as easy as it was
important. The legions of Gaul devoted themselves to the faith, as well
as to the fortunes, of their victorious leader; and even before the
death of Constantius, he had the satisfaction of announcing to his
friends, that they assisted with fervent devotion, and voracious
appetite, at the sacrifices, which were repeatedly offered in his camp,
of whole hecatombs of fat oxen.  The armies of the East, which had been
trained under the standard of the cross, and of Constantius, required a
more artful and expensive mode of persuasion. On the days of solemn and
public festivals, the emperor received the homage, and rewarded the
merit, of the troops. His throne of state was encircled with the
military ensigns of Rome and the republic; the holy name of Christ was
erased from the Labarum; and the symbols of war, of majesty, and of
pagan superstition, were so dexterously blended, that the faithful
subject incurred the guilt of idolatry, when he respectfully saluted the
person or image of his sovereign. The soldiers passed successively in
review; and each of them, before he received from the hand of Julian a
liberal donative, proportioned to his rank and services, was required to
cast a few grains of incense into the flame which burnt upon the altar.
Some Christian confessors might resist, and others might repent; but the
far greater number, allured by the prospect of gold, and awed by the
presence of the emperor, contracted the criminal engagement; and their
future perseverance in the worship of the gods was enforced by every
consideration of duty and of interest. By the frequent repetition of
these arts, and at the expense of sums which would have purchased the
service of half the nations of Scythia, Julian gradually acquired for
his troops the imaginary protection of the gods, and for himself the
firm and effectual support of the Roman legions.  It is indeed more than
probable, that the restoration and encouragement of Paganism revealed a
multitude of pretended Christians, who, from motives of temporal
advantage, had acquiesced in the religion of the former reign; and who
afterwards returned, with the same flexibility of conscience, to the
faith which was professed by the successors of Julian.

While the devout monarch incessantly labored to restore and propagate
the religion of his ancestors, he embraced the extraordinary design of
rebuilding the temple of Jerusalem. In a public epistle  to the nation
or community of the Jews, dispersed through the provinces, he pities
their misfortunes, condemns their oppressors, praises their constancy,
declares himself their gracious protector, and expresses a pious hope,
that after his return from the Persian war, he may be permitted to pay
his grateful vows to the Almighty in his holy city of Jerusalem. The
blind superstition, and abject slavery, of those unfortunate exiles,
must excite the contempt of a philosophic emperor; but they deserved the
friendship of Julian, by their implacable hatred of the Christian name.
The barren synagogue abhorred and envied the fecundity of the rebellious
church; the power of the Jews was not equal to their malice; but their
gravest rabbis approved the private murder of an apostate;  and their
seditious clamors had often awakened the indolence of the Pagan
magistrates. Under the reign of Constantine, the Jews became the
subjects of their revolted children nor was it long before they
experienced the bitterness of domestic tyranny. The civil immunities
which had been granted, or confirmed, by Severus, were gradually
repealed by the Christian princes; and a rash tumult, excited by the
Jews of Palestine,  seemed to justify the lucrative modes of oppression
which were invented by the bishops and eunuchs of the court of
Constantius. The Jewish patriarch, who was still permitted to exercise a
precarious jurisdiction, held his residence at Tiberias;  and the
neighboring cities of Palestine were filled with the remains of a people
who fondly adhered to the promised land. But the edict of Hadrian was
renewed and enforced; and they viewed from afar the walls of the holy
city, which were profaned in their eyes by the triumph of the cross and
the devotion of the Christians.

Chapter XXIII: Reign Of Julian. -- Part III.

In the midst of a rocky and barren country, the walls of Jerusalem
enclosed the two mountains of Sion and Acra, within an oval figure of
about three English miles.  Towards the south, the upper town, and the
fortress of David, were erected on the lofty ascent of Mount Sion: on
the north side, the buildings of the lower town covered the spacious
summit of Mount Acra; and a part of the hill, distinguished by the name
of Moriah, and levelled by human industry, was crowned with the stately
temple of the Jewish nation. After the final destruction of the temple
by the arms of Titus and Hadrian, a ploughshare was drawn over the
consecrated ground, as a sign of perpetual interdiction. Sion was
deserted; and the vacant space of the lower city was filled with the
public and private edifices of the Ælian colony, which spread themselves
over the adjacent hill of Calvary. The holy places were polluted with
mountains of idolatry; and, either from design or accident, a chapel was
dedicated to Venus, on the spot which had been sanctified by the death
and resurrection of Christ.  * Almost three hundred years after those
stupendous events, the profane chapel of Venus was demolished by the
order of Constantine; and the removal of the earth and stones revealed
the holy sepulchre to the eyes of mankind. A magnificent church was
erected on that mystic ground, by the first Christian emperor; and the
effects of his pious munificence were extended to every spot which had
been consecrated by the footstep of patriarchs, of prophets, and of the
Son of God.

The passionate desire of contemplating the original monuments of their
redemption attracted to Jerusalem a successive crowd of pilgrims, from
the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, and the most distant countries of the
East;  and their piety was authorized by the example of the empress
Helena, who appears to have united the credulity of age with the warm
feelings of a recent conversion. Sages and heroes, who have visited the
memorable scenes of ancient wisdom or glory, have confessed the
inspiration of the genius of the place;  and the Christian who knelt
before the holy sepulchre, ascribed his lively faith, and his fervent
devotion, to the more immediate influence of the Divine Spirit. The
zeal, perhaps the avarice, of the clergy of Jerusalem, cherished and
multiplied these beneficial visits. They fixed, by unquestionable
tradition, the scene of each memorable event. They exhibited the
instruments which had been used in the passion of Christ; the nails and
the lance that had pierced his hands, his feet, and his side; the crown
of thorns that was planted on his head; the pillar at which he was
scourged; and, above all, they showed the cross on which he suffered,
and which was dug out of the earth in the reign of those princes, who
inserted the symbol of Christianity in the banners of the Roman legions.
Such miracles as seemed necessary to account for its extraordinary
preservation, and seasonable discovery, were gradually propagated
without opposition. The custody of the true cross, which on Easter
Sunday was solemnly exposed to the people, was intrusted to the bishop
of Jerusalem; and he alone might gratify the curious devotion of the
pilgrims, by the gift of small pieces, which they encased in gold or
gems, and carried away in triumph to their respective countries. But as
this gainful branch of commerce must soon have been annihilated, it was
found convenient to suppose, that the marvelous wood possessed a secret
power of vegetation; and that its substance, though continually
diminished, still remained entire and unimpaired.  It might perhaps have
been expected, that the influence of the place and the belief of a
perpetual miracle, should have produced some salutary effects on the
morals, as well as on the faith, of the people. Yet the most respectable
of the ecclesiastical writers have been obliged to confess, not only
that the streets of Jerusalem were filled with the incessant tumult of
business and pleasure,  but that every species of vice -- adultery,
theft, idolatry, poisoning, murder -- was familiar to the inhabitants of
the holy city.  The wealth and preeminence of the church of Jerusalem
excited the ambition of Arian, as well as orthodox, candidates; and the
virtues of Cyril, who, since his death, has been honored with the title
of Saint, were displayed in the exercise, rather than in the
acquisition, of his episcopal dignity.

The vain and ambitious mind of Julian might aspire to restore the
ancient glory of the temple of Jerusalem.  As the Christians were firmly
persuaded that a sentence of everlasting destruction had been pronounced
against the whole fabric of the Mosaic law, the Imperial sophist would
have converted the success of his undertaking into a specious argument
against the faith of prophecy, and the truth of revelation.  He was
displeased with the spiritual worship of the synagogue; but he approved
the institutions of Moses, who had not disdained to adopt many of the
rites and ceremonies of Egypt.  The local and national deity of the Jews
was sincerely adored by a polytheist, who desired only to multiply the
number of the gods;  and such was the appetite of Julian for bloody
sacrifice, that his emulation might be excited by the piety of Solomon,
who had offered, at the feast of the dedication, twenty-two thousand
oxen, and one hundred and twenty thousand sheep.  These considerations
might influence his designs; but the prospect of an immediate and
important advantage would not suffer the impatient monarch to expect the
remote and uncertain event of the Persian war. He resolved to erect,
without delay, on the commanding eminence of Moriah, a stately temple,
which might eclipse the splendor of the church of the resurrection on
the adjacent hill of Calvary; to establish an order of priests, whose
interested zeal would detect the arts, and resist the ambition, of their
Christian rivals; and to invite a numerous colony of Jews, whose stern
fanaticism would be always prepared to second, and even to anticipate,
the hostile measures of the Pagan government. Among the friends of the
emperor (if the names of emperor, and of friend, are not incompatible)
the first place was assigned, by Julian himself, to the virtuous and
learned Alypius.  The humanity of Alypius was tempered by severe justice
and manly fortitude; and while he exercised his abilities in the civil
administration of Britain, he imitated, in his poetical compositions,
the harmony and softness of the odes of Sappho. This minister, to whom
Julian communicated, without reserve, his most careless levities, and
his most serious counsels, received an extraordinary commission to
restore, in its pristine beauty, the temple of Jerusalem; and the
diligence of Alypius required and obtained the strenuous support of the
governor of Palestine. At the call of their great deliverer, the Jews,
from all the provinces of the empire, assembled on the holy mountain of
their fathers; and their insolent triumph alarmed and exasperated the
Christian inhabitants of Jerusalem. The desire of rebuilding the temple
has in every age been the ruling passion of the children of Isræl. In
this propitious moment the men forgot their avarice, and the women their
delicacy; spades and pickaxes of silver were provided by the vanity of
the rich, and the rubbish was transported in mantles of silk and purple.
Every purse was opened in liberal contributions, every hand claimed a
share in the pious labor, and the commands of a great monarch were
executed by the enthusiasm of a whole people.

Yet, on this occasion, the joint efforts of power and enthusiasm were
unsuccessful; and the ground of the Jewish temple, which is now covered
by a Mahometan mosque,  still continued to exhibit the same edifying
spectacle of ruin and desolation. Perhaps the absence and death of the
emperor, and the new maxims of a Christian reign, might explain the
interruption of an arduous work, which was attempted only in the last
six months of the life of Julian.  But the Christians entertained a
natural and pious expectation, that, in this memorable contest, the
honor of religion would be vindicated by some signal miracle. An
earthquake, a whirlwind, and a fiery eruption, which overturned and
scattered the new foundations of the temple, are attested, with some
variations, by contemporary and respectable evidence.  This public event
is described by Ambrose,  bishop of Milan, in an epistle to the emperor
Theodosius, which must provoke the severe animadversion of the Jews; by
the eloquent Chrysostom,  who might appeal to the memory of the elder
part of his congregation at Antioch; and by Gregory Nazianzen,  who
published his account of the miracle before the expiration of the same
year. The last of these writers has boldly declared, that this
preternatural event was not disputed by the infidels; and his assertion,
strange as it may seem is confirmed by the unexceptionable testimony of
Ammianus Marcellinus.  The philosophic soldier, who loved the virtues,
without adopting the prejudices, of his master, has recorded, in his
judicious and candid history of his own times, the extraordinary
obstacles which interrupted the restoration of the temple of Jerusalem.
"Whilst Alypius, assisted by the governor of the province, urged, with
vigor and diligence, the execution of the work, horrible balls of fire
breaking out near the foundations, with frequent and reiterated attacks,
rendered the place, from time to time, inaccessible to the scorched and
blasted workmen; and the victorious element continuing in this manner
obstinately and resolutely bent, as it were, to drive them to a
distance, the undertaking was abandoned." * Such authority should
satisfy a believing, and must astonish an incredulous, mind. Yet a
philosopher may still require the original evidence of impartial and
intelligent spectators. At this important crisis, any singular accident
of nature would assume the appearance, and produce the effects of a real
prodigy. This glorious deliverance would be speedily improved and
magnified by the pious art of the clergy of Jerusalem, and the active
credulity of the Christian world and, at the distance of twenty years, a
Roman historian, care less of theological disputes, might adorn his work
with the specious and splendid miracle.

Chapter XXIII: Reign Of Julian. -- Part IV.

The restoration of the Jewish temple was secretly connected with the
ruin of the Christian church. Julian still continued to maintain the
freedom of religious worship, without distinguishing whether this
universal toleration proceeded from his justice or his clemency. He
affected to pity the unhappy Christians, who were mistaken in the most
important object of their lives; but his pity was degraded by contempt,
his contempt was embittered by hatred; and the sentiments of Julian were
expressed in a style of sarcastic wit, which inflicts a deep and deadly
wound, whenever it issues from the mouth of a sovereign. As he was
sensible that the Christians gloried in the name of their Redeemer, he
countenanced, and perhaps enjoined, the use of the less honorable
appellation of Galilæans.  He declared, that by the folly of the
Galilæans, whom he describes as a sect of fanatics, contemptible to men,
and odious to the gods, the empire had been reduced to the brink of
destruction; and he insinuates in a public edict, that a frantic patient
might sometimes be cured by salutary violence.  An ungenerous
distinction was admitted into the mind and counsels of Julian, that,
according to the difference of their religious sentiments, one part of
his subjects deserved his favor and friendship, while the other was
entitled only to the common benefits that his justice could not refuse
to an obedient people.  According to a principle, pregnant with mischief
and oppression, the emperor transferred to the pontiffs of his own
religion the management of the liberal allowances for the public
revenue, which had been granted to the church by the piety of
Constantine and his sons. The proud system of clerical honors and
immunities, which had been constructed with so much art and labor, was
levelled to the ground; the hopes of testamentary donations were
intercepted by the rigor of the laws; and the priests of the Christian
sect were confounded with the last and most ignominious class of the
people. Such of these regulations as appeared necessary to check the
ambition and avarice of the ecclesiastics, were soon afterwards imitated
by the wisdom of an orthodox prince. The peculiar distinctions which
policy has bestowed, or superstition has lavished, on the sacerdotal
order, must be confined to those priests who profess the religion of the
state. But the will of the legislator was not exempt from prejudice and
passion; and it was the object of the insidious policy of Julian, to
deprive the Christians of all the temporal honors and advantages which
rendered them respectable in the eyes of the world.

A just and severe censure has been inflicted on the law which prohibited
the Christians from teaching the arts of grammar and rhetoric.  The
motives alleged by the emperor to justify this partial and oppressive
measure, might command, during his lifetime, the silence of slaves and
the applause of flatterers. Julian abuses the ambiguous meaning of a
word which might be indifferently applied to the language and the
religion of the Greeks: he contemptuously observes, that the men who
exalt the merit of implicit faith are unfit to claim or to enjoy the
advantages of science; and he vainly contends, that if they refuse to
adore the gods of Homer and Demosthenes, they ought to content
themselves with expounding Luke and Matthew in the church of the
Galilæans.  In all the cities of the Roman world, the education of the
youth was intrusted to masters of grammar and rhetoric; who were elected
by the magistrates, maintained at the public expense, and distinguished
by many lucrative and honorable privileges. The edict of Julian appears
to have included the physicians, and professors of all the liberal arts;
and the emperor, who reserved to himself the approbation of the
candidates, was authorized by the laws to corrupt, or to punish, the
religious constancy of the most learned of the Christians.  As soon as
the resignation of the more obstinate  teachers had established the
unrivalled dominion of the Pagan sophists, Julian invited the rising
generation to resort with freedom to the public schools, in a just
confidence, that their tender minds would receive the impressions of
literature and idolatry. If the greatest part of the Christian youth
should be deterred by their own scruples, or by those of their parents,
from accepting this dangerous mode of instruction, they must, at the
same time, relinquish the benefits of a liberal education. Julian had
reason to expect that, in the space of a few years, the church would
relapse into its primæval simplicity, and that the theologians, who
possessed an adequate share of the learning and eloquence of the age,
would be succeeded by a generation of blind and ignorant fanatics,
incapable of defending the truth of their own principles, or of exposing
the various follies of Polytheism.

It was undoubtedly the wish and design of Julian to deprive the
Christians of the advantages of wealth, of knowledge, and of power; but
the injustice of excluding them from all offices of trust and profit
seems to have been the result of his general policy, rather than the
immediate consequence of any positive law.  Superior merit might deserve
and obtain, some extraordinary exceptions; but the greater part of the
Christian officers were gradually removed from their employments in the
state, the army, and the provinces. The hopes of future candidates were
extinguished by the declared partiality of a prince, who maliciously
reminded them, that it was unlawful for a Christian to use the sword,
either of justice, or of war; and who studiously guarded the camp and
the tribunals with the ensigns of idolatry. The powers of government
were intrusted to the pagans, who professed an ardent zeal for the
religion of their ancestors; and as the choice of the emperor was often
directed by the rules of divination, the favorites whom he preferred as
the most agreeable to the gods, did not always obtain the approbation of
mankind.  Under the administration of their enemies, the Christians had
much to suffer, and more to apprehend. The temper of Julian was averse
to cruelty; and the care of his reputation, which was exposed to the
eyes of the universe, restrained the philosophic monarch from violating
the laws of justice and toleration, which he himself had so recently
established. But the provincial ministers of his authority were placed
in a less conspicuous station. In the exercise of arbitrary power, they
consulted the wishes, rather than the commands, of their sovereign; and
ventured to exercise a secret and vexatious tyranny against the
sectaries, on whom they were not permitted to confer the honors of
martyrdom. The emperor, who dissembled as long as possible his knowledge
of the injustice that was exercised in his name, expressed his real
sense of the conduct of his officers, by gentle reproofs and substantial
rewards.

The most effectual instrument of oppression, with which they were armed,
was the law that obliged the Christians to make full and ample
satisfaction for the temples which they had destroyed under the
preceding reign. The zeal of the triumphant church had not always
expected the sanction of the public authority; and the bishops, who were
secure of impunity, had often marched at the head of their congregation,
to attack and demolish the fortresses of the prince of darkness. The
consecrated lands, which had increased the patrimony of the sovereign or
of the clergy, were clearly defined, and easily restored. But on these
lands, and on the ruins of Pagan superstition, the Christians had
frequently erected their own religious edifices: and as it was necessary
to remove the church before the temple could be rebuilt, the justice and
piety of the emperor were applauded by one party, while the other
deplored and execrated his sacrilegious violence.  After the ground was
cleared, the restitution of those stately structures which had been
levelled with the dust, and of the precious ornaments which had been
converted to Christian uses, swelled into a very large account of
damages and debt. The authors of the injury had neither the ability nor
the inclination to discharge this accumulated demand: and the impartial
wisdom of a legislator would have been displayed in balancing the
adverse claims and complaints, by an equitable and temperate
arbitration. But the whole empire, and particularly the East, was thrown
into confusion by the rash edicts of Julian; and the Pagan magistrates,
inflamed by zeal and revenge, abused the rigorous privilege of the Roman
law, which substitutes, in the place of his inadequate property, the
person of the insolvent debtor. Under the preceding reign, Mark, bishop
of Arethusa,  had labored in the conversion of his people with arms more
effectual than those of persuasion.  The magistrates required the full
value of a temple which had been destroyed by his intolerant zeal: but
as they were satisfied of his poverty, they desired only to bend his
inflexible spirit to the promise of the slightest compensation. They
apprehended the aged prelate, they inhumanly scourged him, they tore his
beard; and his naked body, anointed with honey, was suspended, in a net,
between heaven and earth, and exposed to the stings of insects and the
rays of a Syrian sun.  From this lofty station, Mark still persisted to
glory in his crime, and to insult the impotent rage of his persecutors.
He was at length rescued from their hands, and dismissed to enjoy the
honor of his divine triumph. The Arians celebrated the virtue of their
pious confessor; the Catholics ambitiously claimed his alliance;  and
the Pagans, who might be susceptible of shame or remorse, were deterred
from the repetition of such unavailing cruelty.  Julian spared his life:
but if the bishop of Arethusa had saved the infancy of Julian,
posterity will condemn the ingratitude, instead of praising the
clemency, of the emperor.

At the distance of five miles from Antioch, the Macedonian kings of
Syria had consecrated to Apollo one of the most elegant places of
devotion in the Pagan world.  A magnificent temple rose in honor of the
god of light; and his colossal figure  almost filled the capacious
sanctuary, which was enriched with gold and gems, and adorned by the
skill of the Grecian artists. The deity was represented in a bending
attitude, with a golden cup in his hand, pouring out a libation on the
earth; as if he supplicated the venerable mother to give to his arms the
cold and beauteous Daphne: for the spot was ennobled by fiction; and the
fancy of the Syrian poets had transported the amorous tale from the
banks of the Peneus to those of the Orontes. The ancient rites of Greece
were imitated by the royal colony of Antioch. A stream of prophecy,
which rivalled the truth and reputation of the Delphic oracle, flowed
from the Castalianfountain of Daphne.  In the adjacent fields a stadium
was built by a special privilege,  which had been purchased from Elis;
the Olympic games were celebrated at the expense of the city; and a
revenue of thirty thousand pounds sterling was annually applied to the
public pleasures.  The perpetual resort of pilgrims and spectators
insensibly formed, in the neighborhood of the temple, the stately and
populous village of Daphne, which emulated the splendor, without
acquiring the title, of a provincial city. The temple and the village
were deeply bosomed in a thick grove of laurels and cypresses, which
reached as far as a circumference of ten miles, and formed in the most
sultry summers a cool and impenetrable shade. A thousand streams of the
purest water, issuing from every hill, preserved the verdure of the
earth, and the temperature of the air; the senses were gratified with
harmonious sounds and aromatic odors; and the peaceful grove was
consecrated to health and joy, to luxury and love. The vigorous youth
pursued, like Apollo, the object of his desires; and the blushing maid
was warned, by the fate of Daphne, to shun the folly of unseasonable
coyness. The soldier and the philosopher wisely avoided the temptation
of this sensual paradise:  where pleasure, assuming the character of
religion, imperceptibly dissolved the firmness of manly virtue. But the
groves of Daphne continued for many ages to enjoy the veneration of
natives and strangers; the privileges of the holy ground were enlarged
by the munificence of succeeding emperors; and every generation added
new ornaments to the splendor of the temple.

When Julian, on the day of the annual festival, hastened to adore the
Apollo of Daphne, his devotion was raised to the highest pitch of
eagerness and impatience. His lively imagination anticipated the
grateful pomp of victims, of libations and of incense; a long procession
of youths and virgins, clothed in white robes, the symbol of their
innocence; and the tumultuous concourse of an innumerable people. But
the zeal of Antioch was diverted, since the reign of Christianity, into
a different channel. Instead of hecatombs of fat oxen sacrificed by the
tribes of a wealthy city to their tutelar deity the emperor complains
that he found only a single goose, provided at the expense of a priest,
the pale and solitary in habitant of this decayed temple.  The altar was
deserted, the oracle had been reduced to silence, and the holy ground
was profaned by the introduction of Christian and funereal rites. After
Babylas  (a bishop of Antioch, who died in prison in the persecution of
Decius) had rested near a century in his grave, his body, by the order
of Cæsar Gallus, was transported into the midst of the grove of Daphne.
A magnificent church was erected over his remains; a portion of the
sacred lands was usurped for the maintenance of the clergy, and for the
burial of the Christians at Antioch, who were ambitious of lying at the
feet of their bishop; and the priests of Apollo retired, with their
affrighted and indignant votaries. As soon as another revolution seemed
to restore the fortune of Paganism, the church of St. Babylas was
demolished, and new buildings were added to the mouldering edifice which
had been raised by the piety of Syrian kings. But the first and most
serious care of Julian was to deliver his oppressed deity from the
odious presence of the dead and living Christians, who had so
effectually suppressed the voice of fraud or enthusiasm.  The scene of
infection was purified, according to the forms of ancient rituals; the
bodies were decently removed; and the ministers of the church were
permitted to convey the remains of St. Babylas to their former
habitation within the walls of Antioch. The modest behavior which might
have assuaged the jealousy of a hostile government was neglected, on
this occasion, by the zeal of the Christians. The lofty car, that
transported the relics of Babylas, was followed, and accompanied, and
received, by an innumerable multitude; who chanted, with thundering
acclamations, the Psalms of David the most expressive of their contempt
for idols and idolaters. The return of the saint was a triumph; and the
triumph was an insult on the religion of the emperor, who exerted his
pride to dissemble his resentment. During the night which terminated
this indiscreet procession, the temple of Daphne was in flames; the
statue of Apollo was consumed; and the walls of the edifice were left a
naked and awful monument of ruin. The Christians of Antioch asserted,
with religious confidence, that the powerful intercession of St. Babylas
had pointed the lightnings of heaven against the devoted roof: but as
Julian was reduced to the alternative of believing either a crime or a
miracle, he chose, without hesitation, without evidence, but with some
color of probability, to impute the fire of Daphne to the revenge of the
Galilæans.  Their offence, had it been sufficiently proved, might have
justified the retaliation, which was immediately executed by the order
of Julian, of shutting the doors, and confiscating the wealth, of the
cathedral of Antioch. To discover the criminals who were guilty of the
tumult, of the fire, or of secreting the riches of the church, several
of the ecclesiastics were tortured;  and a Presbyter, of the name of
Theodoret, was beheaded by the sentence of the Count of the East. But
this hasty act was blamed by the emperor; who lamented, with real or
affected concern, that the imprudent zeal of his ministers would tarnish
his reign with the disgrace of persecution.

Chapter XXIII: Reign Of Julian. -- Part V.

The zeal of the ministers of Julian was instantly checked by the frown
of their sovereign; but when the father of his country declares himself
the leader of a faction, the license of popular fury cannot easily be
restrained, nor consistently punished. Julian, in a public composition,
applauds the devotion and loyalty of the holy cities of Syria, whose
pious inhabitants had destroyed, at the first signal, the sepulchres of
the Galilæans; and faintly complains, that they had revenged the
injuries of the gods with less moderation than he should have
recommended.  This imperfect and reluctant confession may appear to
confirm the ecclesiastical narratives; that in the cities of Gaza,
Ascalon, Cæsarea, Heliopolis, &c., the Pagans abused, without prudence
or remorse, the moment of their prosperity. That the unhappy objects of
their cruelty were released from torture only by death; and as their
mangled bodies were dragged through the streets, they were pierced (such
was the universal rage) by the spits of cooks, and the distaffs of
enraged women; and that the entrails of Christian priests and virgins,
after they had been tasted by those bloody fanatics, were mixed with
barley, and contemptuously thrown to the unclean animals of the city.
Such scenes of religious madness exhibit the most contemptible and
odious picture of human nature; but the massacre of Alexandria attracts
still more attention, from the certainty of the fact, the rank of the
victims, and the splendor of the capital of Egypt.

George,  from his parents or his education, surnamed the Cappadocian,
was born at Epiphania in Cilicia, in a fuller's shop. From this obscure
and servile origin he raised himself by the talents of a parasite; and
the patrons, whom he assiduously flattered, procured for their worthless
dependent a lucrative commission, or contract, to supply the army with
bacon. His employment was mean; he rendered it infamous. He accumulated
wealth by the basest arts of fraud and corruption; but his malversations
were so notorious, that George was compelled to escape from the pursuits
of justice. After this disgrace, in which he appears to have saved his
fortune at the expense of his honor, he embraced, with real or affected
zeal, the profession of Arianism. From the love, or the ostentation, of
learning, he collected a valuable library of history rhetoric,
philosophy, and theology,  and the choice of the prevailing faction
promoted George of Cappadocia to the throne of Athanasius. The entrance
of the new archbishop was that of a Barbarian conqueror; and each moment
of his reign was polluted by cruelty and avarice. The Catholics of
Alexandria and Egypt were abandoned to a tyrant, qualified, by nature
and education, to exercise the office of persecution; but he oppressed
with an impartial hand the various inhabitants of his extensive diocese.
The primate of Egypt assumed the pomp and insolence of his lofty
station; but he still betrayed the vices of his base and servile
extraction. The merchants of Alexandria were impoverished by the unjust,
and almost universal, monopoly, which he acquired, of nitre, salt,
paper, funerals, &c.: and the spiritual father of a great people
condescended to practise the vile and pernicious arts of an informer.
The Alexandrians could never forget, nor forgive, the tax, which he
suggested, on all the houses of the city; under an obsolete claim, that
the royal founder had conveyed to his successors, the Ptolemies and the
Cæsars, the perpetual property of the soil. The Pagans, who had been
flattered with the hopes of freedom and toleration, excited his devout
avarice; and the rich temples of Alexandria were either pillaged or
insulted by the haughty prince, who exclaimed, in a loud and threatening
tone, "How long will these sepulchres be permitted to stand?" Under the
reign of Constantius, he was expelled by the fury, or rather by the
justice, of the people; and it was not without a violent struggle, that
the civil and military powers of the state could restore his authority,
and gratify his revenge. The messenger who proclaimed at Alexandria the
accession of Julian, announced the downfall of the archbishop. George,
with two of his obsequious ministers, Count Diodorus, and Dracontius,
master of the mint were ignominiously dragged in chains to the public
prison. At the end of twenty-four days, the prison was forced open by
the rage of a superstitious multitude, impatient of the tedious forms of
judicial proceedings. The enemies of gods and men expired under their
cruel insults; the lifeless bodies of the archbishop and his associates
were carried in triumph through the streets on the back of a camel; *
and the inactivity of the Athanasian party  was esteemed a shining
example of evangelical patience. The remains of these guilty wretches
were thrown into the sea; and the popular leaders of the tumult declared
their resolution to disappoint the devotion of the Christians, and to
intercept the future honors of these martyrs, who had been punished,
like their predecessors, by the enemies of their religion.  The fears of
the Pagans were just, and their precautions ineffectual. The meritorious
death of the archbishop obliterated the memory of his life. The rival of
Athanasius was dear and sacred to the Arians, and the seeming conversion
of those sectaries introduced his worship into the bosom of the Catholic
church.  The odious stranger, disguising every circumstance of time and
place, assumed the mask of a martyr, a saint, and a Christian hero;  and
the infamous George of Cappadocia has been transformed  into the
renowned St. George of England, the patron of arms, of chivalry, and of
the garter.

About the same time that Julian was informed of the tumult of
Alexandria, he received intelligence from Edessa, that the proud and
wealthy faction of the Arians had insulted the weakness of the
Valentinians, and committed such disorders as ought not to be suffered
with impunity in a well-regulated state. Without expecting the slow
forms of justice, the exasperated prince directed his mandate to the
magistrates of Edessa,  by which he confiscated the whole property of
the church: the money was distributed among the soldiers; the lands were
added to the domain; and this act of oppression was aggravated by the
most ungenerous irony. "I show myself," says Julian, "the true friend of
the Galilæans. Their admirablelaw has promised the kingdom of heaven to
the poor; and they will advance with more diligence in the paths of
virtue and salvation, when they are relieved by my assistance from the
load of temporal possessions. Take care," pursued the monarch, in a more
serious tone, "take care how you provoke my patience and humanity. If
these disorders continue, I will revenge on the magistrates the crimes
of the people; and you will have reason to dread, not only confiscation
and exile, but fire and the sword." The tumults of Alexandria were
doubtless of a more bloody and dangerous nature: but a Christian bishop
had fallen by the hands of the Pagans; and the public epistle of Julian
affords a very lively proof of the partial spirit of his administration.
His reproaches to the citizens of Alexandria are mingled with
expressions of esteem and tenderness; and he laments, that, on this
occasion, they should have departed from the gentle and generous manners
which attested their Grecian extraction. He gravely censures the offence
which they had committed against the laws of justice and humanity; but
he recapitulates, with visible complacency, the intolerable provocations
which they had so long endured from the impious tyranny of George of
Cappadocia. Julian admits the principle, that a wise and vigorous
government should chastise the insolence of the people; yet, in
consideration of their founder Alexander, and of Serapis their tutelar
deity, he grants a free and gracious pardon to the guilty city, for
which he again feels the affection of a brother.

After the tumult of Alexandria had subsided, Athanasius, amidst the
public acclamations, seated himself on the throne from whence his
unworthy competitor had been precipitated: and as the zeal of the
archbishop was tempered with discretion, the exercise of his authority
tended not to inflame, but to reconcile, the minds of the people. His
pastoral labors were not confined to the narrow limits of Egypt. The
state of the Christian world was present to his active and capacious
mind; and the age, the merit, the reputation of Athanasius, enabled him
to assume, in a moment of danger, the office of Ecclesiastical Dictator.
Three years were not yet elapsed since the majority of the bishops of
the West had ignorantly, or reluctantly, subscribed the Confession of
Rimini. They repented, they believed, but they dreaded the unseasonable
rigor of their orthodox brethren; and if their pride was stronger than
their faith, they might throw themselves into the arms of the Arians, to
escape the indignity of a public penance, which must degrade them to the
condition of obscure laymen. At the same time the domestic differences
concerning the union and distinction of the divine persons, were
agitated with some heat among the Catholic doctors; and the progress of
this metaphysical controversy seemed to threaten a public and lasting
division of the Greek and Latin churches. By the wisdom of a select
synod, to which the name and presence of Athanasius gave the authority
of a general council, the bishops, who had unwarily deviated into error,
were admitted to the communion of the church, on the easy condition of
subscribing the Nicene Creed; without any formal acknowledgment of their
past fault, or any minute definition of their scholastic opinions. The
advice of the primate of Egypt had already prepared the clergy of Gaul
and Spain, of Italy and Greece, for the reception of this salutary
measure; and, notwithstanding the opposition of some ardent spirits,
the fear of the common enemy promoted the peace and harmony of the
Christians.

The skill and diligence of the primate of Egypt had improved the season
of tranquillity, before it was interrupted by the hostile edicts of the
emperor.  Julian, who despised the Christians, honored Athanasius with
his sincere and peculiar hatred. For his sake alone, he introduced an
arbitrary distinction, repugnant at least to the spirit of his former
declarations. He maintained, that the Galilæans, whom he had recalled
from exile, were not restored, by that general indulgence, to the
possession of their respective churches; and he expressed his
astonishment, that a criminal, who had been repeatedly condemned by the
judgment of the emperors, should dare to insult the majesty of the laws,
and insolently usurp the archiepiscopal throne of Alexandria, without
expecting the orders of his sovereign. As a punishment for the imaginary
offence, he again banished Athanasius from the city; and he was pleased
to suppose, that this act of justice would be highly agreeable to his
pious subjects. The pressing solicitations of the people soon convinced
him, that the majority of the Alexandrians were Christians; and that the
greatest part of the Christians were firmly attached to the cause of
their oppressed primate. But the knowledge of their sentiments, instead
of persuading him to recall his decree, provoked him to extend to all
Egypt the term of the exile of Athanasius. The zeal of the multitude
rendered Julian still more inexorable: he was alarmed by the danger of
leaving at the head of a tumultuous city, a daring and popular leader;
and the language of his resentment discovers the opinion which he
entertained of the courage and abilities of Athanasius. The execution of
the sentence was still delayed, by the caution or negligence of
Ecdicius, præfect of Egypt, who was at length awakened from his lethargy
by a severe reprimand. "Though you neglect," says Julian, "to write to
me on any other subject, at least it is your duty to inform me of your
conduct towards Athanasius, the enemy of the gods. My intentions have
been long since communicated to you. I swear by the great Serapis, that
unless, on the calends of December, Athanasius has departed from
Alexandria, nay, from Egypt, the officers of your government shall pay a
fine of one hundred pounds of gold. You know my temper: I am slow to
condemn, but I am still slower to forgive." This epistle was enforced by
a short postscript, written with the emperor's own hand. "The contempt
that is shown for all the gods fills me with grief and indignation.
There is nothing that I should see, nothing that I should hear, with
more pleasure, than the expulsion of Athanasius from all Egypt. The
abominable wretch! Under my reign, the baptism of several Grecian ladies
of the highest rank has been the effect of his persecutions."  The death
of Athanasius was not expresslycommanded; but the præfect of Egypt
understood that it was safer for him to exceed, than to neglect, the
orders of an irritated master. The archbishop prudently retired to the
monasteries of the Desert; eluded, with his usual dexterity, the snares
of the enemy; and lived to triumph over the ashes of a prince, who, in
words of formidable import, had declared his wish that the whole venom
of the Galilæan school were contained in the single person of
Athanasius.

I have endeavored faithfully to represent the artful system by which
Julian proposed to obtain the effects, without incurring the guilt, or
reproach, of persecution. But if the deadly spirit of fanaticism
perverted the heart and understanding of a virtuous prince, it must, at
the same time, be confessed that the realsufferings of the Christians
were inflamed and magnified by human passions and religious enthusiasm.
The meekness and resignation which had distinguished the primitive
disciples of the gospel, was the object of the applause, rather than of
the imitation of their successors. The Christians, who had now possessed
above forty years the civil and ecclesiastical government of the empire,
had contracted the insolent vices of prosperity,  and the habit of
believing that the saints alone were entitled to reign over the earth.
As soon as the enmity of Julian deprived the clergy of the privileges
which had been conferred by the favor of Constantine, they complained of
the most cruel oppression; and the free toleration of idolaters and
heretics was a subject of grief and scandal to the orthodox party.  The
acts of violence, which were no longer countenanced by the magistrates,
were still committed by the zeal of the people. At Pessinus, the altar
of Cybele was overturned almost in the presence of the emperor; and in
the city of Cæsarea in Cappadocia, the temple of Fortune, the sole place
of worship which had been left to the Pagans, was destroyed by the rage
of a popular tumult. On these occasions, a prince, who felt for the
honor of the gods, was not disposed to interrupt the course of justice;
and his mind was still more deeply exasperated, when he found that the
fanatics, who had deserved and suffered the punishment of incendiaries,
were rewarded with the honors of martyrdom.  The Christian subjects of
Julian were assured of the hostile designs of their sovereign; and, to
their jealous apprehension, every circumstance of his government might
afford some grounds of discontent and suspicion. In the ordinary
administration of the laws, the Christians, who formed so large a part
of the people, must frequently be condemned: but their indulgent
brethren, without examining the merits of the cause, presumed their
innocence, allowed their claims, and imputed the severity of their judge
to the partial malice of religious persecution.  These present
hardships, intolerable as they might appear, were represented as a
slight prelude of the impending calamities. The Christians considered
Julian as a cruel and crafty tyrant; who suspended the execution of his
revenge till he should return victorious from the Persian war. They
expected, that as soon as he had triumphed over the foreign enemies of
Rome, he would lay aside the irksome mask of dissimulation; that the
amphitheatre would stream with the blood of hermits and bishops; and
that the Christians who still persevered in the profession of the faith,
would be deprived of the common benefits of nature and society.  Every
calumny  that could wound the reputation of the Apostate, was
credulously embraced by the fears and hatred of his adversaries; and
their indiscreet clamors provoked the temper of a sovereign, whom it was
their duty to respect, and their interest to flatter. They still
protested, that prayers and tears were their only weapons against the
impious tyrant, whose head they devoted to the justice of offended
Heaven. But they insinuated, with sullen resolution, that their
submission was no longer the effect of weakness; and that, in the
imperfect state of human virtue, the patience, which is founded on
principle, may be exhausted by persecution. It is impossible to
determine how far the zeal of Julian would have prevailed over his good
sense and humanity; but if we seriously reflect on the strength and
spirit of the church, we shall be convinced, that before the emperor
could have extinguished the religion of Christ, he must have involved
his country in the horrors of a civil war.

Chapter XXIV: The Retreat And Death Of Julian. Part I.

Residence Of Julian At Antioch. -- His Successful Expedition Against The
Persians. -- Passage Of The Tigris -- The Retreat And Death Of Julian.
-- Election Of Jovian. -- He Saves The Roman Army By A Disgraceful
Treaty.

The philosophical fable which Julian composed under the name of the
Cæsars,  is one of the most agreeable and instructive productions of
ancient wit.  During the freedom and equality of the days of the
Saturnalia, Romulus prepared a feast for the deities of Olympus, who had
adopted him as a worthy associate, and for the Roman princes, who had
reigned over his martial people, and the vanquished nations of the
earth. The immortals were placed in just order on their thrones of
state, and the table of the Cæsars was spread below the Moon in the
upper region of the air. The tyrants, who would have disgraced the
society of gods and men, were thrown headlong, by the inexorable
Nemesis, into the Tartarean abyss. The rest of the Cæsars successively
advanced to their seats; and as they passed, the vices, the defects, the
blemishes of their respective characters, were maliciously noticed by
old Silenus, a laughing moralist, who disguised the wisdom of a
philosopher under the mask of a Bacchanal.  As soon as the feast was
ended, the voice of Mercury proclaimed the will of Jupiter, that a
celestial crown should be the reward of superior merit. Julius Cæsar,
Augustus, Trajan, and Marcus Antoninus, were selected as the most
illustrious candidates; the effeminate Constantine  was not excluded
from this honorable competition, and the great Alexander was invited to
dispute the prize of glory with the Roman heroes. Each of the candidates
was allowed to display the merit of his own exploits; but, in the
judgment of the gods, the modest silence of Marcus pleaded more
powerfully than the elaborate orations of his haughty rivals. When the
judges of this awful contest proceeded to examine the heart, and to
scrutinize the springs of action, the superiority of the Imperial Stoic
appeared still more decisive and conspicuous.  Alexander and Cæsar,
Augustus, Trajan, and Constantine, acknowledged, with a blush, that
fame, or power, or pleasure had been the important object of
theirlabors: but the gods themselves beheld, with reverence and love, a
virtuous mortal, who had practised on the throne the lessons of
philosophy; and who, in a state of human imperfection, had aspired to
imitate the moral attributes of the Deity. The value of this agreeable
composition (the Cæsars of Julian) is enhanced by the rank of the
author. A prince, who delineates, with freedom, the vices and virtues of
his predecessors, subscribes, in every line, the censure or approbation
of his own conduct.

In the cool moments of reflection, Julian preferred the useful and
benevolent virtues of Antoninus; but his ambitious spirit was inflamed
by the glory of Alexander; and he solicited, with equal ardor, the
esteem of the wise, and the applause of the multitude. In the season of
life when the powers of the mind and body enjoy the most active vigor,
the emperor who was instructed by the experience, and animated by the
success, of the German war, resolved to signalize his reign by some more
splendid and memorable achievement. The ambassadors of the East, from
the continent of India, and the Isle of Ceylon,  had respectfully
saluted the Roman purple.  The nations of the West esteemed and dreaded
the personal virtues of Julian, both in peace and war. He despised the
trophies of a Gothic victory,  and was satisfied that the rapacious
Barbarians of the Danube would be restrained from any future violation
of the faith of treaties by the terror of his name, and the additional
fortifications with which he strengthened the Thracian and Illyrian
frontiers. The successor of Cyrus and Artaxerxes was the only rival whom
he deemed worthy of his arms; and he resolved, by the final conquest of
Persia, to chastise the naughty nation which had so long resisted and
insulted the majesty of Rome.  As soon as the Persian monarch was
informed that the throne of Constantius was filed by a prince of a very
different character, he condescended to make some artful, or perhaps
sincere, overtures towards a negotiation of peace. But the pride of
Sapor was astonished by the firmness of Julian; who sternly declared,
that he would never consent to hold a peaceful conference among the
flames and ruins of the cities of Mesopotamia; and who added, with a
smile of contempt, that it was needless to treat by ambassadors, as he
himself had determined to visit speedily the court of Persia. The
impatience of the emperor urged the diligence of the military
preparations. The generals were named; and Julian, marching from
Constantinople through the provinces of Asia Minor, arrived at Antioch
about eight months after the death of his predecessor. His ardent desire
to march into the heart of Persia, was checked by the indispensable duty
of regulating the state of the empire; by his zeal to revive the worship
of the gods; and by the advice of his wisest friends; who represented
the necessity of allowing the salutary interval of winter quarters, to
restore the exhausted strength of the legions of Gaul, and the
discipline and spirit of the Eastern troops. Julian was persuaded to
fix, till the ensuing spring, his residence at Antioch, among a people
maliciously disposed to deride the haste, and to censure the delays, of
their sovereign.

If Julian had flattered himself, that his personal connection with the
capital of the East would be productive of mutual satisfaction to the
prince and people, he made a very false estimate of his own character,
and of the manners of Antioch.  The warmth of the climate disposed the
natives to the most intemperate enjoyment of tranquillity and opulence;
and the lively licentiousness of the Greeks was blended with the
hereditary softness of the Syrians. Fashion was the only law, pleasure
the only pursuit, and the splendor of dress and furniture was the only
distinction of the citizens of Antioch. The arts of luxury were honored;
the serious and manly virtues were the subject of ridicule; and the
contempt for female modesty and reverent age announced the universal
corruption of the capital of the East. The love of spectacles was the
taste, or rather passion, of the Syrians; the most skilful artists were
procured from the adjacent cities;  a considerable share of the revenue
was devoted to the public amusements; and the magnificence of the games
of the theatre and circus was considered as the happiness and as the
glory of Antioch. The rustic manners of a prince who disdained such
glory, and was insensible of such happiness, soon disgusted the delicacy
of his subjects; and the effeminate Orientals could neither imitate, nor
admire, the severe simplicity which Julian always maintained, and
sometimes affected. The days of festivity, consecrated, by ancient
custom, to the honor of the gods, were the only occasions in which
Julian relaxed his philosophic severity; and those festivals were the
only days in which the Syrians of Antioch could reject the allurements
of pleasure. The majority of the people supported the glory of the
Christian name, which had been first invented by their ancestors:  they
contended themselves with disobeying the moral precepts, but they were
scrupulously attached to the speculative doctrines of their religion.
The church of Antioch was distracted by heresy and schism; but the
Arians and the Athanasians, the followers of Meletius and those of
Paulinus,  were actuated by the same pious hatred of their common
adversary.

The strongest prejudice was entertained against the character of an
apostate, the enemy and successor of a prince who had engaged the
affections of a very numerous sect; and the removal of St. Babylas
excited an implacable opposition to the person of Julian. His subjects
complained, with superstitious indignation, that famine had pursued the
emperor's steps from Constantinople to Antioch; and the discontent of a
hungry people was exasperated by the injudicious attempt to relieve
their distress. The inclemency of the season had affected the harvests
of Syria; and the price of bread,  in the markets of Antioch, had
naturally risen in proportion to the scarcity of corn. But the fair and
reasonable proportion was soon violated by the rapacious arts of
monopoly. In this unequal contest, in which the produce of the land is
claimed by one party as his exclusive property, is used by another as a
lucrative object of trade, and is required by a third for the daily and
necessary support of life, all the profits of the intermediate agents
are accumulated on the head of the defenceless customers. The hardships
of their situation were exaggerated and increased by their own
impatience and anxiety; and the apprehension of a scarcity gradually
produced the appearances of a famine. When the luxurious citizens of
Antioch complained of the high price of poultry and fish, Julian
publicly declared, that a frugal city ought to be satisfied with a
regular supply of wine, oil, and bread; but he acknowledged, that it was
the duty of a sovereign to provide for the subsistence of his people.
With this salutary view, the emperor ventured on a very dangerous and
doubtful step, of fixing, by legal authority, the value of corn. He
enacted, that, in a time of scarcity, it should be sold at a price which
had seldom been known in the most plentiful years; and that his own
example might strengthen his laws, he sent into the market four hundred
and twenty-two thousand modii, or measures, which were drawn by his
order from the granaries of Hierapolis, of Chalcis, and even of Egypt.
The consequences might have been foreseen, and were soon felt. The
Imperial wheat was purchased by the rich merchants; the proprietors of
land, or of corn, withheld from the city the accustomed supply; and the
small quantities that appeared in the market were secretly sold at an
advanced and illegal price. Julian still continued to applaud his own
policy, treated the complaints of the people as a vain and ungrateful
murmur, and convinced Antioch that he had inherited the obstinacy,
though not the cruelty, of his brother Gallus.  The remonstrances of the
municipal senate served only to exasperate his inflexible mind. He was
persuaded, perhaps with truth, that the senators of Antioch who
possessed lands, or were concerned in trade, had themselves contributed
to the calamities of their country; and he imputed the disrespectful
boldness which they assumed, to the sense, not of public duty, but of
private interest. The whole body, consisting of two hundred of the most
noble and wealthy citizens, were sent, under a guard, from the palace to
the prison; and though they were permitted, before the close of evening,
to return to their respective houses,  the emperor himself could not
obtain the forgiveness which he had so easily granted. The same
grievances were still the subject of the same complaints, which were
industriously circulated by the wit and levity of the Syrian Greeks.
During the licentious days of the Saturnalia, the streets of the city
resounded with insolent songs, which derided the laws, the religion, the
personal conduct, and even the beard, of the emperor; the spirit of
Antioch was manifested by the connivance of the magistrates, and the
applause of the multitude.  The disciple of Socrates was too deeply
affected by these popular insults; but the monarch, endowed with a quick
sensibility, and possessed of absolute power, refused his passions the
gratification of revenge. A tyrant might have proscribed, without
distinction, the lives and fortunes of the citizens of Antioch; and the
unwarlike Syrians must have patiently submitted to the lust, the
rapaciousness and the cruelty, of the faithful legions of Gaul. A milder
sentence might have deprived the capital of the East of its honors and
privileges; and the courtiers, perhaps the subjects, of Julian, would
have applauded an act of justice, which asserted the dignity of the
supreme magistrate of the republic.  But instead of abusing, or
exerting, the authority of the state, to revenge his personal injuries,
Julian contented himself with an inoffensive mode of retaliation, which
it would be in the power of few princes to employ. He had been insulted
by satires and libels; in his turn, he composed, under the title of the
Enemy of the Beard, an ironical confession of his own faults, and a
severe satire on the licentious and effeminate manners of Antioch. This
Imperial reply was publicly exposed before the gates of the palace; and
the Misopogon  still remains a singular monument of the resentment, the
wit, the humanity, and the indiscretion of Julian. Though he affected to
laugh, he could not forgive.  His contempt was expressed, and his
revenge might be gratified, by the nomination of a governor  worthy only
of such subjects; and the emperor, forever renouncing the ungrateful
city, proclaimed his resolution to pass the ensuing winter at Tarsus in
Cilicia.

Yet Antioch possessed one citizen, whose genius and virtues might atone,
in the opinion of Julian, for the vice and folly of his country. The
sophist Libanius was born in the capital of the East; he publicly
professed the arts of rhetoric and declamation at Nice, Nicomedia,
Constantinople, Athens, and, during the remainder of his life, at
Antioch. His school was assiduously frequented by the Grecian youth; his
disciples, who sometimes exceeded the number of eighty, celebrated their
incomparable master; and the jealousy of his rivals, who persecuted him
from one city to another, confirmed the favorable opinion which Libanius
ostentatiously displayed of his superior merit. The preceptors of Julian
had extorted a rash but solemn assurance, that he would never attend the
lectures of their adversary: the curiosity of the royal youth was
checked and inflamed: he secretly procured the writings of this
dangerous sophist, and gradually surpassed, in the perfect imitation of
his style, the most laborious of his domestic pupils.  When Julian
ascended the throne, he declared his impatience to embrace and reward
the Syrian sophist, who had preserved, in a degenerate age, the Grecian
purity of taste, of manners, and of religion. The emperor's
prepossession was increased and justified by the discreet pride of his
favorite. Instead of pressing, with the foremost of the crowd, into the
palace of Constantinople, Libanius calmly expected his arrival at
Antioch; withdrew from court on the first symptoms of coldness and
indifference; required a formal invitation for each visit; and taught
his sovereign an important lesson, that he might command the obedience
of a subject, but that he must deserve the attachment of a friend. The
sophists of every age, despising, or affecting to despise, the
accidental distinctions of birth and fortune,  reserve their esteem for
the superior qualities of the mind, with which they themselves are so
plentifully endowed. Julian might disdain the acclamations of a venal
court, who adored the Imperial purple; but he was deeply flattered by
the praise, the admonition, the freedom, and the envy of an independent
philosopher, who refused his favors, loved his person, celebrated his
fame, and protected his memory. The voluminous writings of Libanius
still exist; for the most part, they are the vain and idle compositions
of an orator, who cultivated the science of words; the productions of a
recluse student, whose mind, regardless of his contemporaries, was
incessantly fixed on the Trojan war and the Athenian commonwealth. Yet
the sophist of Antioch sometimes descended from this imaginary
elevation; he entertained a various and elaborate correspondence;  he
praised the virtues of his own times; he boldly arraigned the abuse of
public and private life; and he eloquently pleaded the cause of Antioch
against the just resentment of Julian and Theodosius. It is the common
calamity of old age,  to lose whatever might have rendered it desirable;
but Libanius experienced the peculiar misfortune of surviving the
religion and the sciences, to which he had consecrated his genius. The
friend of Julian was an indignant spectator of the triumph of
Christianity; and his bigotry, which darkened the prospect of the
visible world, did not inspire Libanius with any lively hopes of
celestial glory and happiness.

Chapter XXIV: The Retreat And Death Of Julian. -- Part II.

The martial impatience of Julian urged him to take the field in the
beginning of the spring; and he dismissed, with contempt and reproach,
the senate of Antioch, who accompanied the emperor beyond the limits of
their own territory, to which he was resolved never to return. After a
laborious march of two days,  he halted on the third at Beræa, or
Aleppo, where he had the mortification of finding a senate almost
entirely Christian; who received with cold and formal demonstrations of
respect the eloquent sermon of the apostle of paganism. The son of one
of the most illustrious citizens of Beræa, who had embraced, either from
interest or conscience, the religion of the emperor, was disinherited by
his angry parent. The father and the son were invited to the Imperial
table. Julian, placing himself between them, attempted, without success,
to inculcate the lesson and example of toleration; supported, with
affected calmness, the indiscreet zeal of the aged Christian, who seemed
to forget the sentiments of nature, and the duty of a subject; and at
length, turning towards the afflicted youth, "Since you have lost a
father," said he, "for my sake, it is incumbent on me to supply his
place."  The emperor was received in a manner much more agreeable to his
wishes at Batnæ, * a small town pleasantly seated in a grove of
cypresses, about twenty miles from the city of Hierapolis. The solemn
rites of sacrifice were decently prepared by the inhabitants of Batnæ,
who seemed attached to the worship of their tutelar deities, Apollo and
Jupiter; but the serious piety of Julian was offended by the tumult of
their applause; and he too clearly discerned, that the smoke which arose
from their altars was the incense of flattery, rather than of devotion.
The ancient and magnificent temple which had sanctified, for so many
ages, the city of Hierapolis,  no longer subsisted; and the consecrated
wealth, which afforded a liberal maintenance to more than three hundred
priests, might hasten its downfall. Yet Julian enjoyed the satisfaction
of embracing a philosopher and a friend, whose religious firmness had
withstood the pressing and repeated solicitations of Constantius and
Gallus, as often as those princes lodged at his house, in their passage
through Hierapolis. In the hurry of military preparation, and the
careless confidence of a familiar correspondence, the zeal of Julian
appears to have been lively and uniform. He had now undertaken an
important and difficult war; and the anxiety of the event rendered him
still more attentive to observe and register the most trifling presages,
from which, according to the rules of divination, any knowledge of
futurity could be derived.  He informed Libanius of his progress as far
as Hierapolis, by an elegant epistle,  which displays the facility of
his genius, and his tender friendship for the sophist of Antioch.

Hierapolis, * situate almost on the banks of the Euphrates,  had been
appointed for the general rendezvous of the Roman troops, who
immediately passed the great river on a bridge of boats, which was
previously constructed.  If the inclinations of Julian had been similar
to those of his predecessor, he might have wasted the active and
important season of the year in the circus of Samosata or in the
churches of Edessa. But as the warlike emperor, instead of Constantius,
had chosen Alexander for his model, he advanced without delay to Carrhæ,
a very ancient city of Mesopotamia, at the distance of fourscore miles
from Hierapolis. The temple of the Moon attracted the devotion of
Julian; but the halt of a few days was principally employed in
completing the immense preparations of the Persian war. The secret of
the expedition had hitherto remained in his own breast; but as Carrhæis
the point of separation of the two great roads, he could no longer
conceal whether it was his design to attack the dominions of Sapor on
the side of the Tigris, or on that of the Euphrates. The emperor
detached an army of thirty thousand men, under the command of his
kinsman Procopius, and of Sebastian, who had been duke of Egypt. They
were ordered to direct their march towards Nisibis, and to secure the
frontier from the desultory incursions of the enemy, before they
attempted the passage of the Tigris. Their subsequent operations were
left to the discretion of the generals; but Julian expected, that after
wasting with fire and sword the fertile districts of Media and Adiabene,
they might arrive under the walls of Ctesiphon at the same time that he
himself, advancing with equal steps along the banks of the Euphrates,
should besiege the capital of the Persian monarchy. The success of this
well-concerted plan depended, in a great measure, on the powerful and
ready assistance of the king of Armenia, who, without exposing the
safety of his own dominions, might detach an army of four thousand
horse, and twenty thousand foot, to the assistance of the Romans.  But
the feeble Arsaces Tiranus,  king of Armenia, had degenerated still more
shamefully than his father Chosroes, from the manly virtues of the great
Tiridates; and as the pusillanimous monarch was averse to any enterprise
of danger and glory, he could disguise his timid indolence by the more
decent excuses of religion and gratitude. He expressed a pious
attachment to the memory of Constantius, from whose hands he had
received in marriage Olympias, the daughter of the præfect Ablavius; and
the alliance of a female, who had been educated as the destined wife of
the emperor Constans, exalted the dignity of a Barbarian king.  Tiranus
professed the Christian religion; he reigned over a nation of
Christians; and he was restrained, by every principle of conscience and
interest, from contributing to the victory, which would consummate the
ruin of the church. The alienated mind of Tiranus was exasperated by the
indiscretion of Julian, who treated the king of Armenia as his slave,
and as the enemy of the gods. The haughty and threatening style of the
Imperial mandates  awakened the secret indignation of a prince, who, in
the humiliating state of dependence, was still conscious of his royal
descent from the Arsacides, the lords of the East, and the rivals of the
Roman power.

The military dispositions of Julian were skilfully contrived to deceive
the spies and to divert the attention of Sapor. The legions appeared to
direct their march towards Nisibis and the Tigris. On a sudden they
wheeled to the right; traversed the level and naked plain of Carrhæ; and
reached, on the third day, the banks of the Euphrates, where the strong
town of Nicephorium, or Callinicum, had been founded by the Macedonian
kings. From thence the emperor pursued his march, above ninety miles,
along the winding stream of the Euphrates, till, at length, about one
month after his departure from Antioch, he discovered the towers of
Circesium, * the extreme limit of the Roman dominions. The army of
Julian, the most numerous that any of the Cæsars had ever led against
Persia, consisted of sixty-five thousand effective and well-disciplined
soldiers. The veteran bands of cavalry and infantry, of Romans and
Barbarians, had been selected from the different provinces; and a just
preeminence of loyalty and valor was claimed by the hardy Gauls, who
guarded the throne and person of their beloved prince. A formidable body
of Scythian auxiliaries had been transported from another climate, and
almost from another world, to invade a distant country, of whose name
and situation they were ignorant. The love of rapine and war allured to
the Imperial standard several tribes of Saracens, or roving Arabs, whose
service Julian had commanded, while he sternly refuse the payment of the
accustomed subsidies. The broad channel of the Euphrates  was crowded by
a fleet of eleven hundred ships, destined to attend the motions, and to
satisfy the wants, of the Roman army. The military strength of the fleet
was composed of fifty armed galleys; and these were accompanied by an
equal number of flat-bottomed boats, which might occasionally be
connected into the form of temporary bridges. The rest of the ships,
partly constructed of timber, and partly covered with raw hides, were
laden with an almost inexhaustible supply of arms and engines, of
utensils and provisions. The vigilant humanity of Julian had embarked a
very large magazine of vinegar and biscuit for the use of the soldiers,
but he prohibited the indulgence of wine; and rigorously stopped a long
string of superfluous camels that attempted to follow the rear of the
army. The River Chaboras falls into the Euphrates at Circesium;  and as
soon as the trumpet gave the signal of march, the Romans passed the
little stream which separated two mighty and hostile empires. The custom
of ancient discipline required a military oration; and Julian embraced
every opportunity of displaying his eloquence. He animated the impatient
and attentive legions by the example of the inflexible courage and
glorious triumphs of their ancestors. He excited their resentment by a
lively picture of the insolence of the Persians; and he exhorted them to
imitate his firm resolution, either to extirpate that perfidious nation,
or to devote his life in the cause of the republic. The eloquence of
Julian was enforced by a donative of one hundred and thirty pieces of
silver to every soldier; and the bridge of the Chaboras was instantly
cut away, to convince the troops that they must place their hopes of
safety in the success of their arms. Yet the prudence of the emperor
induced him to secure a remote frontier, perpetually exposed to the
inroads of the hostile Arabs. A detachment of four thousand men was left
at Circesium, which completed, to the number of ten thousand, the
regular garrison of that important fortress.

From the moment that the Romans entered the enemy's country,  the
country of an active and artful enemy, the order of march was disposed
in three columns.  The strength of the infantry, and consequently of the
whole army was placed in the centre, under the peculiar command of their
master-general Victor. On the right, the brave Nevitta led a column of
several legions along the banks of the Euphrates, and almost always in
sight of the fleet. The left flank of the army was protected by the
column of cavalry. Hormisdas and Arinthæus were appointed generals of
the horse; and the singular adventures of Hormisdas  are not undeserving
of our notice. He was a Persian prince, of the royal race of the
Sassanides, who, in the troubles of the minority of Sapor, had escaped
from prison to the hospitable court of the great Constantine. Hormisdas
at first excited the compassion, and at length acquired the esteem, of
his new masters; his valor and fidelity raised him to the military
honors of the Roman service; and though a Christian, he might indulge
the secret satisfaction of convincing his ungrateful country, than at
oppressed subject may prove the most dangerous enemy. Such was the
disposition of the three principal columns. The front and flanks of the
army were covered by Lucilianus with a flying detachment of fifteen
hundred light-armed soldiers, whose active vigilance observed the most
distant signs, and conveyed the earliest notice, of any hostile
approach. Dagalaiphus, and Secundinus duke of Osrhoene, conducted the
troops of the rear-guard; the baggage securely proceeded in the
intervals of the columns; and the ranks, from a motive either of use or
ostentation, were formed in such open order, that the whole line of
march extended almost ten miles. The ordinary post of Julian was at the
head of the centre column; but as he preferred the duties of a general
to the state of a monarch, he rapidly moved, with a small escort of
light cavalry, to the front, the rear, the flanks, wherever his presence
could animate or protect the march of the Roman army. The country which
they traversed from the Chaboras, to the cultivated lands of Assyria,
may be considered as a part of the desert of Arabia, a dry and barren
waste, which could never be improved by the most powerful arts of human
industry. Julian marched over the same ground which had been trod above
seven hundred years before by the footsteps of the younger Cyrus, and
which is described by one of the companions of his expedition, the sage
and heroic Xenophon.  "The country was a plain throughout, as even as
the sea, and full of wormwood; and if any other kind of shrubs or reeds
grew there, they had all an aromatic smell, but no trees could be seen.
Bustards and ostriches, antelopes and wild asses,  appeared to be the
only inhabitants of the desert; and the fatigues of the march were
alleviated by the amusements of the chase." The loose sand of the desert
was frequently raised by the wind into clouds of dust; and a great
number of the soldiers of Julian, with their tents, were suddenly thrown
to the ground by the violence of an unexpected hurricane.

The sandy plains of Mesopotamia were abandoned to the antelopes and wild
asses of the desert; but a variety of populous towns and villages were
pleasantly situated on the banks of the Euphrates, and in the islands
which are occasionally formed by that river. The city of Annah, or
Anatho,  the actual residence of an Arabian emir, is composed of two
long streets, which enclose, within a natural fortification, a small
island in the midst, and two fruitful spots on either side, of the
Euphrates. The warlike inhabitants of Anatho showed a disposition to
stop the march of a Roman emperor; till they were diverted from such
fatal presumption by the mild exhortations of Prince Hormisdas, and the
approaching terrors of the fleet and army. They implored, and
experienced, the clemency of Julian, who transplanted the people to an
advantageous settlement, near Chalcis in Syria, and admitted Pusæus, the
governor, to an honorable rank in his service and friendship. But the
impregnable fortress of Thilutha could scorn the menace of a siege; and
the emperor was obliged to content himself with an insulting promise,
that, when he had subdued the interior provinces of Persia, Thilutha
would no longer refuse to grace the triumph of the emperor. The
inhabitants of the open towns, unable to resist, and unwilling to yield,
fled with precipitation; and their houses, filled with spoil and
provisions, were occupied by the soldiers of Julian, who massacred,
without remorse and without punishment, some defenceless women. During
the march, the Surenas, * or Persian general, and Malek Rodosaces, the
renowned emir of the tribe of Gassan,  incessantly hovered round the
army; every straggler was intercepted; every detachment was attacked;
and the valiant Hormisdas escaped with some difficulty from their hands.
But the Barbarians were finally repulsed; the country became every day
less favorable to the operations of cavalry; and when the Romans arrived
at Macepracta, they perceived the ruins of the wall, which had been
constructed by the ancient kings of Assyria, to secure their dominions
from the incursions of the Medes. These preliminaries of the expedition
of Julian appear to have employed about fifteen days; and we may compute
near three hundred miles from the fortress of Circesium to the wall of
Macepracta.

The fertile province of Assyria,  which stretched beyond the Tigris, as
far as the mountains of Media,  extended about four hundred miles from
the ancient wall of Macepracta, to the territory of Basra, where the
united streams of the Euphrates and Tigris discharge themselves into the
Persian Gulf.  The whole country might have claimed the peculiar name of
Mesopotamia; as the two rivers, which are never more distant than fifty,
approach, between Bagdad and Babylon, within twenty-five miles, of each
other. A multitude of artificial canals, dug without much labor in a
soft and yielding soil connected the rivers, and intersected the plain
of Assyria. The uses of these artificial canals were various and
important. They served to discharge the superfluous waters from one
river into the other, at the season of their respective inundations.
Subdividing themselves into smaller and smaller branches, they refreshed
the dry lands, and supplied the deficiency of rain. They facilitated the
intercourse of peace and commerce; and, as the dams could be speedily
broke down, they armed the despair of the Assyrians with the means of
opposing a sudden deluge to the progress of an invading army. To the
soil and climate of Assyria, nature had denied some of her choicest
gifts, the vine, the olive, and the fig-tree; * but the food which
supports the life of man, and particularly wheat and barley, were
produced with inexhaustible fertility; and the husbandman, who committed
his seed to the earth, was frequently rewarded with an increase of two,
or even of three, hundred. The face of the country was interspersed with
groves of innumerable palm-trees;  and the diligent natives celebrated,
either in verse or prose, the three hundred and sixty uses to which the
trunk, the branches, the leaves, the juice, and the fruit, were
skilfully applied. Several manufactures, especially those of leather and
linen, employed the industry of a numerous people, and afforded valuable
materials for foreign trade; which appears, however, to have been
conducted by the hands of strangers. Babylon had been converted into a
royal park; but near the ruins of the ancient capital, new cities had
successively arisen, and the populousness of the country was displayed
in the multitude of towns and villages, which were built of bricks dried
in the sun, and strongly cemented with bitumen; the natural and peculiar
production of the Babylonian soil. While the successors of Cyrus reigned
over Asia, the province of Syria alone maintained, during a third part
of the year, the luxurious plenty of the table and household of the
Great King. Four considerable villages were assigned for the subsistence
of his Indian dogs; eight hundred stallions, and sixteen thousand mares,
were constantly kept, at the expense of the country, for the royal
stables; and as the daily tribute, which was paid to the satrap,
amounted to one English bushel of silver, we may compute the annual
revenue of Assyria at more than twelve hundred thousand pounds sterling.

Chapter XXIV: The Retreat And Death Of Julian. -- Part III.

The fields of Assyria were devoted by Julian to the calamities of war;
and the philosopher retaliated on a guiltless people the acts of rapine
and cruelty which had been committed by their haughty master in the
Roman provinces. The trembling Assyrians summoned the rivers to their
assistance; and completed, with their own hands, the ruin of their
country. The roads were rendered impracticable; a flood of waters was
poured into the camp; and, during several days, the troops of Julian
were obliged to contend with the most discouraging hardships. But every
obstacle was surmounted by the perseverance of the legionaries, who were
inured to toil as well as to danger, and who felt themselves animated by
the spirit of their leader. The damage was gradually repaired; the
waters were restored to their proper channels; whole groves of
palm-trees were cut down, and placed along the broken parts of the road;
and the army passed over the broad and deeper canals, on bridges of
floating rafts, which were supported by the help of bladders. Two cities
of Assyria presumed to resist the arms of a Roman emperor: and they both
paid the severe penalty of their rashness. At the distance of fifty
miles from the royal residence of Ctesiphon, Perisabor, * or Anbar, held
the second rank in the province; a city, large, populous, and well
fortified, surrounded with a double wall, almost encompassed by a branch
of the Euphrates, and defended by the valor of a numerous garrison. The
exhortations of Hormisdas were repulsed with contempt; and the ears of
the Persian prince were wounded by a just reproach, that, unmindful of
his royal birth, he conducted an army of strangers against his king and
country. The Assyrians maintained their loyalty by a skilful, as well as
vigorous, defence; till the lucky stroke of a battering-ram, having
opened a large breach, by shattering one of the angles of the wall, they
hastily retired into the fortifications of the interior citadel. The
soldiers of Julian rushed impetuously into the town, and after the full
gratification of every military appetite, Perisabor was reduced to
ashes; and the engines which assaulted the citadel were planted on the
ruins of the smoking houses. The contest was continued by an incessant
and mutual discharge of missile weapons; and the superiority which the
Romans might derive from the mechanical powers of their balistæand
catapultæwas counterbalanced by the advantage of the ground on the side
of the besieged. But as soon as an Helepolishad been constructed, which
could engage on equal terms with the loftiest ramparts, the tremendous
aspect of a moving turret, that would leave no hope of resistance or
mercy, terrified the defenders of the citadel into an humble submission;
and the place was surrendered only two days after Julian first appeared
under the walls of Perisabor. Two thousand five hundred persons, of both
sexes, the feeble remnant of a flourishing people, were permitted to
retire; the plentiful magazines of corn, of arms, and of splendid
furniture, were partly distributed among the troops, and partly reserved
for the public service; the useless stores were destroyed by fire or
thrown into the stream of the Euphrates; and the fate of Amida was
revenged by the total ruin of Perisabor.

The city or rather fortress, of Maogamalcha, which was defended by
sixteen large towers, a deep ditch, and two strong and solid walls of
brick and bitumen, appears to have been constructed at the distance of
eleven miles, as the safeguard of the capital of Persia. The emperor,
apprehensive of leaving such an important fortress in his rear,
immediately formed the siege of Maogamalcha; and the Roman army was
distributed, for that purpose, into three divisions. Victor, at the head
of the cavalry, and of a detachment of heavy-armed foot, was ordered to
clear the country, as far as the banks of the Tigris, and the suburbs of
Ctesiphon. The conduct of the attack was assumed by Julian himself, who
seemed to place his whole dependence in the military engines which he
erected against the walls; while he secretly contrived a more
efficacious method of introducing his troops into the heart of the city
Under the direction of Nevitta and Dagalaiphus, the trenches were opened
at a considerable distance, and gradually prolonged as far as the edge
of the ditch. The ditch was speedily filled with earth; and, by the
incessant labor of the troops, a mine was carried under the foundations
of the walls, and sustained, at sufficient intervals, by props of
timber. Three chosen cohorts, advancing in a single file, silently
explored the dark and dangerous passage; till their intrepid leader
whispered back the intelligence, that he was ready to issue from his
confinement into the streets of the hostile city. Julian checked their
ardor, that he might insure their success; and immediately diverted the
attention of the garrison, by the tumult and clamor of a general
assault. The Persians, who, from their walls, contemptuously beheld the
progress of an impotent attack, celebrated with songs of triumph the
glory of Sapor; and ventured to assure the emperor, that he might ascend
the starry mansion of Ormusd, before he could hope to take the
impregnable city of Maogamalcha. The city was already taken. History has
recorded the name of a private soldier the first who ascended from the
mine into a deserted tower. The passage was widened by his companions,
who pressed forwards with impatient valor. Fifteen hundred enemies were
already in the midst of the city. The astonished garrison abandoned the
walls, and their only hope of safety; the gates were instantly burst
open; and the revenge of the soldier, unless it were suspended by lust
or avarice, was satiated by an undistinguishing massacre. The governor,
who had yielded on a promise of mercy, was burnt alive, a few days
afterwards, on a charge of having uttered some disrespectful words
against the honor of Prince Hormisdas. * The fortifications were razed
to the ground; and not a vestige was left, that the city of Maogamalcha
had ever existed. The neighborhood of the capital of Persia was adorned
with three stately palaces, laboriously enriched with every production
that could gratify the luxury and pride of an Eastern monarch. The
pleasant situation of the gardens along the banks of the Tigris, was
improved, according to the Persian taste, by the symmetry of flowers,
fountains, and shady walks: and spacious parks were enclosed for the
reception of the bears, lions, and wild boars, which were maintained at
a considerable expense for the pleasure of the royal chase. The park
walls were broken down, the savage game was abandoned to the darts of
the soldiers, and the palaces of Sapor were reduced to ashes, by the
command of the Roman emperor. Julian, on this occasion, showed himself
ignorant, or careless, of the laws of civility, which the prudence and
refinement of polished ages have established between hostile princes.
Yet these wanton ravages need not excite in our breasts any vehement
emotions of pity or resentment. A simple, naked statue, finished by the
hand of a Grecian artist, is of more genuine value than all these rude
and costly monuments of Barbaric labor; and, if we are more deeply
affected by the ruin of a palace than by the conflagration of a cottage,
our humanity must have formed a very erroneous estimate of the miseries
of human life.

Julian was an object of hatred and terror to the Persian and the
painters of that nation represented the invader of their country under
the emblem of a furious lion, who vomited from his mouth a consuming
fire.  To his friends and soldiers the philosophic hero appeared in a
more amiable light; and his virtues were never more conspicuously
displayed, than in the last and most active period of his life. He
practised, without effort, and almost without merit, the habitual
qualities of temperance and sobriety. According to the dictates of that
artificial wisdom, which assumes an absolute dominion over the mind and
body, he sternly refused himself the indulgence of the most natural
appetites.  In the warm climate of Assyria, which solicited a luxurious
people to the gratification of every sensual desire,  a youthful
conqueror preserved his chastity pure and inviolate; nor was Julian ever
tempted, even by a motive of curiosity, to visit his female captives of
exquisite beauty,  who, instead of resisting his power, would have
disputed with each other the honor of his embraces. With the same
firmness that he resisted the allurements of love, he sustained the
hardships of war. When the Romans marched through the flat and flooded
country, their sovereign, on foot, at the head of his legions, shared
their fatigues and animated their diligence. In every useful labor, the
hand of Julian was prompt and strenuous; and the Imperial purple was wet
and dirty as the coarse garment of the meanest soldier. The two sieges
allowed him some remarkable opportunities of signalizing his personal
valor, which, in the improved state of the military art, can seldom be
exerted by a prudent general. The emperor stood before the citadel
before the citadel of Perisabor, insensible of his extreme danger, and
encouraged his troops to burst open the gates of iron, till he was
almost overwhelmed under a cloud of missile weapons and huge stones,
that were directed against his person. As he examined the exterior
fortifications of Maogamalcha, two Persians, devoting themselves for
their country, suddenly rushed upon him with drawn cimeters: the emperor
dexterously received their blows on his uplifted shield; and, with a
steady and well-aimed thrust, laid one of his adversaries dead at his
feet. The esteem of a prince who possesses the virtues which he
approves, is the noblest recompense of a deserving subject; and the
authority which Julian derived from his personal merit, enabled him to
revive and enforce the rigor of ancient discipline. He punished with
death or ignominy the misbehavior of three troops of horse, who, in a
skirmish with the Surenas, had lost their honor and one of their
standards: and he distinguished with obsidionalcrowns the valor of the
foremost soldiers, who had ascended into the city of Maogamalcha. After
the siege of Perisabor, the firmness of the emperor was exercised by the
insolent avarice of the army, who loudly complained, that their services
were rewarded by a trifling donative of one hundred pieces of silver.
His just indignation was expressed in the grave and manly language of a
Roman. "Riches are the object of your desires; those riches are in the
hands of the Persians; and the spoils of this fruitful country are
proposed as the prize of your valor and discipline. Believe me," added
Julian, "the Roman republic, which formerly possessed such immense
treasures, is now reduced to want and wretchedness once our princes have
been persuaded, by weak and interested ministers, to purchase with gold
the tranquillity of the Barbarians. The revenue is exhausted; the cities
are ruined; the provinces are dispeopled. For myself, the only
inheritance that I have received from my royal ancestors is a soul
incapable of fear; and as long as I am convinced that every real
advantage is seated in the mind, I shall not blush to acknowledge an
honorable poverty, which, in the days of ancient virtue, was considered
as the glory of Fabricius. That glory, and that virtue, may be your own,
if you will listen to the voice of Heaven and of your leader. But if you
will rashly persist, if you are determined to renew the shameful and
mischievous examples of old seditions, proceed. As it becomes an emperor
who has filled the first rank among men, I am prepared to die, standing;
and to despise a precarious life, which, every hour, may depend on an
accidental fever. If I have been found unworthy of the command, there
are now among you, (I speak it with pride and pleasure,) there are many
chiefs whose merit and experience are equal to the conduct of the most
important war. Such has been the temper of my reign, that I can retire,
without regret, and without apprehension, to the obscurity of a private
station"  The modest resolution of Julian was answered by the unanimous
applause and cheerful obedience of the Romans, who declared their
confidence of victory, while they fought under the banners of their
heroic prince. Their courage was kindled by his frequent and familiar
asseverations, (for such wishes were the oaths of Julian,) "So may I
reduce the Persians under the yoke!" "Thus may I restore the strength
and splendor of the republic!" The love of fame was the ardent passion
of his soul: but it was not before he trampled on the ruins of
Maogamalcha, that he allowed himself to say, "We have now provided some
materials for the sophist of Antioch."

The successful valor of Julian had triumphed over all the obstacles that
opposed his march to the gates of Ctesiphon. But the reduction, or even
the siege, of the capital of Persia, was still at a distance: nor can
the military conduct of the emperor be clearly apprehended, without a
knowledge of the country which was the theatre of his bold and skilful
operations.  Twenty miles to the south of Bagdad, and on the eastern
bank of the Tigris, the curiosity of travellers has observed some ruins
of the palaces of Ctesiphon, which, in the time of Julian, was a great
and populous city. The name and glory of the adjacent Seleucia were
forever extinguished; and the only remaining quarter of that Greek
colony had resumed, with the Assyrian language and manners, the
primitive appellation of Coche. Coche was situate on the western side of
the Tigris; but it was naturally considered as a suburb of Ctesiphon,
with which we may suppose it to have been connected by a permanent
bridge of boats. The united parts contribute to form the common epithet
of Al Modain, the cities, which the Orientals have bestowed on the
winter residence of the Sassinades; and the whole circumference of the
Persian capital was strongly fortified by the waters of the river, by
lofty walls, and by impracticable morasses. Near the ruins of Seleucia,
the camp of Julian was fixed, and secured, by a ditch and rampart,
against the sallies of the numerous and enterprising garrison of Coche.
In this fruitful and pleasant country, the Romans were plentifully
supplied with water and forage: and several forts, which might have
embarrassed the motions of the army, submitted, after some resistance,
to the efforts of their valor. The fleet passed from the Euphrates into
an artificial derivation of that river, which pours a copious and
navigable stream into the Tigris, at a small distance belowthe great
city. If they had followed this royal canal, which bore the name of
Nahar-Malcha,  the intermediate situation of Coche would have separated
the fleet and army of Julian; and the rash attempt of steering against
the current of the Tigris, and forcing their way through the midst of a
hostile capital, must have been attended with the total destruction of
the Roman navy. The prudence of the emperor foresaw the danger, and
provided the remedy. As he had minutely studied the operations of Trajan
in the same country, he soon recollected that his warlike predecessor
had dug a new and navigable canal, which, leaving Coche on the right
hand, conveyed the waters of the Nahar-Malcha into the river Tigris, at
some distance abovethe cities. From the information of the peasants,
Julian ascertained the vestiges of this ancient work, which were almost
obliterated by design or accident. By the indefatigable labor of the
soldiers, a broad and deep channel was speedily prepared for the
reception of the Euphrates. A strong dike was constructed to interrupt
the ordinary current of the Nahar-Malcha: a flood of waters rushed
impetuously into their new bed; and the Roman fleet, steering their
triumphant course into the Tigris, derided the vain and ineffectual
barriers which the Persians of Ctesiphon had erected to oppose their
passage.

As it became necessary to transport the Roman army over the Tigris,
another labor presented itself, of less toil, but of more danger, than
the preceding expedition. The stream was broad and rapid; the ascent
steep and difficult; and the intrenchments which had been formed on the
ridge of the opposite bank, were lined with a numerous army of heavy
cuirassiers, dexterous archers, and huge elephants; who (according to
the extravagant hyperbole of Libanius) could trample with the same ease
a field of corn, or a legion of Romans.  In the presence of such an
enemy, the construction of a bridge was impracticable; and the intrepid
prince, who instantly seized the only possible expedient, concealed his
design, till the moment of execution, from the knowledge of the
Barbarians, of his own troops, and even of his generals themselves.
Under the specious pretence of examining the state of the magazines,
fourscore vessels * were gradually unladen; and a select detachment,
apparently destined for some secret expedition, was ordered to stand to
their arms on the first signal. Julian disguised the silent anxiety of
his own mind with smiles of confidence and joy; and amused the hostile
nations with the spectacle of military games, which he insultingly
celebrated under the walls of Coche. The day was consecrated to
pleasure; but, as soon as the hour of supper was passed, the emperor
summoned the generals to his tent, and acquainted them that he had fixed
that night for the passage of the Tigris. They stood in silent and
respectful astonishment; but, when the venerable Sallust assumed the
privilege of his age and experience, the rest of the chiefs supported
with freedom the weight of his prudent remonstrances.  Julian contented
himself with observing, that conquest and safety depended on the
attempt; that instead of diminishing, the number of their enemies would
be increased, by successive reenforcements; and that a longer delay
would neither contract the breadth of the stream, nor level the height
of the bank. The signal was instantly given, and obeyed; the most
impatient of the legionaries leaped into five vessels that lay nearest
to the bank; and as they plied their oars with intrepid diligence, they
were lost, after a few moments, in the darkness of the night. A flame
arose on the opposite side; and Julian, who too clearly understood that
his foremost vessels, in attempting to land, had been fired by the
enemy, dexterously converted their extreme danger into a presage of
victory. "Our fellow-soldiers," he eagerly exclaimed, "are already
masters of the bank; see -- they make the appointed signal; let us
hasten to emulate and assist their courage." The united and rapid motion
of a great fleet broke the violence of the current, and they reached the
eastern shore of the Tigris with sufficient speed to extinguish the
flames, and rescue their adventurous companions. The difficulties of a
steep and lofty ascent were increased by the weight of armor, and the
darkness of the night. A shower of stones, darts, and fire, was
incessantly discharged on the heads of the assailants; who, after an
arduous struggle, climbed the bank and stood victorious upon the
rampart. As soon as they possessed a more equal field, Julian, who, with
his light infantry, had led the attack,  darted through the ranks a
skilful and experienced eye: his bravest soldiers, according to the
precepts of Homer,  were distributed in the front and rear: and all the
trumpets of the Imperial army sounded to battle. The Romans, after
sending up a military shout, advanced in measured steps to the animating
notes of martial music; launched their formidable javelins; and rushed
forwards with drawn swords, to deprive the Barbarians, by a closer
onset, of the advantage of their missile weapons. The whole engagement
lasted above twelve hours; till the gradual retreat of the Persians was
changed into a disorderly flight, of which the shameful example was
given by the principal leader, and the Surenas himself. They were
pursued to the gates of Ctesiphon; and the conquerors might have entered
the dismayed city,  if their general, Victor, who was dangerously
wounded with an arrow, had not conjured them to desist from a rash
attempt, which must be fatal, if it were not successful. On theirside,
the Romans acknowledged the loss of only seventy-five men; while they
affirmed, that the Barbarians had left on the field of battle two
thousand five hundred, or even six thousand, of their bravest soldiers.
The spoil was such as might be expected from the riches and luxury of an
Oriental camp; large quantities of silver and gold, splendid arms and
trappings, and beds and tables of massy silver. * The victorious emperor
distributed, as the rewards of valor, some honorable gifts, civic, and
mural, and naval crowns; which he, and perhaps he alone, esteemed more
precious than the wealth of Asia. A solemn sacrifice was offered to the
god of war, but the appearances of the victims threatened the most
inauspicious events; and Julian soon discovered, by less ambiguous
signs, that he had now reached the term of his prosperity.

On the second day after the battle, the domestic guards, the Jovians and
Herculians, and the remaining troops, which composed near two thirds of
the whole army, were securely wafted over the Tigris.  While the
Persians beheld from the walls of Ctesiphon the desolation of the
adjacent country, Julian cast many an anxious look towards the North, in
full expectation, that as he himself had victoriously penetrated to the
capital of Sapor, the march and junction of his lieutenants, Sebastian
and Procopius, would be executed with the same courage and diligence.
His expectations were disappointed by the treachery of the Armenian
king, who permitted, and most probably directed, the desertion of his
auxiliary troops from the camp of the Romans;  and by the dissensions of
the two generals, who were incapable of forming or executing any plan
for the public service. When the emperor had relinquished the hope of
this important reenforcement, he condescended to hold a council of war,
and approved, after a full debate, the sentiment of those generals, who
dissuaded the siege of Ctesiphon, as a fruitless and pernicious
undertaking. It is not easy for us to conceive, by what arts of
fortification a city thrice besieged and taken by the predecessors of
Julian could be rendered impregnable against an army of sixty thousand
Romans, commanded by a brave and experienced general, and abundantly
supplied with ships, provisions, battering engines, and military stores.
But we may rest assured, from the love of glory, and contempt of danger,
which formed the character of Julian, that he was not discouraged by any
trivial or imaginary obstacles.  At the very time when he declined the
siege of Ctesiphon, he rejected, with obstinacy and disdain, the most
flattering offers of a negotiation of peace. Sapor, who had been so long
accustomed to the tardy ostentation of Constantius, was surprised by the
intrepid diligence of his successor. As far as the confines of India and
Scythia, the satraps of the distant provinces were ordered to assemble
their troops, and to march, without delay, to the assistance of their
monarch. But their preparations were dilatory, their motions slow; and
before Sapor could lead an army into the field, he received the
melancholy intelligence of the devastation of Assyria, the ruin of his
palaces, and the slaughter of his bravest troops, who defended the
passage of the Tigris. The pride of royalty was humbled in the dust; he
took his repasts on the ground; and the disorder of his hair expressed
the grief and anxiety of his mind. Perhaps he would not have refused to
purchase, with one half of his kingdom, the safety of the remainder; and
he would have gladly subscribed himself, in a treaty of peace, the
faithful and dependent ally of the Roman conqueror. Under the pretence
of private business, a minister of rank and confidence was secretly
despatched to embrace the knees of Hormisdas, and to request, in the
language of a suppliant, that he might be introduced into the presence
of the emperor. The Sassanian prince, whether he listened to the voice
of pride or humanity, whether he consulted the sentiments of his birth,
or the duties of his situation, was equally inclined to promote a
salutary measure, which would terminate the calamities of Persia, and
secure the triumph of Rome. He was astonished by the inflexible firmness
of a hero, who remembered, most unfortunately for himself and for his
country, that Alexander had uniformly rejected the propositions of
Darius. But as Julian was sensible, that the hope of a safe and
honorable peace might cool the ardor of his troops, he earnestly
requested that Hormisdas would privately dismiss the minister of Sapor,
and conceal this dangerous temptation from the knowledge of the camp.

Chapter XXIV: The Retreat And Death Of Julian. -- Part IV.

The honor, as well as interest, of Julian, forbade him to consume his
time under the impregnable walls of Ctesiphon and as often as he defied
the Barbarians, who defended the city, to meet him on the open plain,
they prudently replied, that if he desired to exercise his valor, he
might seek the army of the Great King. He felt the insult, and he
accepted the advice. Instead of confining his servile march to the banks
of the Euphrates and Tigris, he resolved to imitate the adventurous
spirit of Alexander, and boldly to advance into the inland provinces,
till he forced his rival to contend with him, perhaps in the plains of
Arbela, for the empire of Asia. The magnanimity of Julian was applauded
and betrayed, by the arts of a noble Persian, who, in the cause of his
country, had generously submitted to act a part full of danger, of
falsehood, and of shame.  With a train of faithful followers, he
deserted to the Imperial camp; exposed, in a specious tale, the injuries
which he had sustained; exaggerated the cruelty of Sapor, the discontent
of the people, and the weakness of the monarchy; and confidently offered
himself as the hostage and guide of the Roman march. The most rational
grounds of suspicion were urged, without effect, by the wisdom and
experience of Hormisdas; and the credulous Julian, receiving the traitor
into his bosom, was persuaded to issue a hasty order, which, in the
opinion of mankind, appeared to arraign his prudence, and to endanger
his safety. He destroyed, in a single hour, the whole navy, which had
been transported above five hundred miles, at so great an expense of
toil, of treasure, and of blood. Twelve, or, at the most, twenty-two
small vessels were saved, to accompany, on carriages, the march of the
army, and to form occasional bridges for the passage of the rivers. A
supply of twenty days' provisions was reserved for the use of the
soldiers; and the rest of the magazines, with a fleet of eleven hundred
vessels, which rode at anchor in the Tigris, were abandoned to the
flames, by the absolute command of the emperor. The Christian bishops,
Gregory and Augustin, insult the madness of the Apostate, who executed,
with his own hands, the sentence of divine justice. Their authority, of
less weight, perhaps, in a military question, is confirmed by the cool
judgment of an experienced soldier, who was himself spectator of the
conflagration, and who could not disapprove the reluctant murmurs of the
troops.  Yet there are not wanting some specious, and perhaps solid,
reasons, which might justify the resolution of Julian. The navigation of
the Euphrates never ascended above Babylon, nor that of the Tigris above
Opis.  The distance of the last-mentioned city from the Roman camp was
not very considerable: and Julian must soon have renounced the vain and
impracticable attempt of forcing upwards a great fleet against the
stream of a rapid river,  which in several places was embarrassed by
natural or artificial cataracts.  The power of sails and oars was
insufficient; it became necessary to tow the ships against the current
of the river; the strength of twenty thousand soldiers was exhausted in
this tedious and servile labor, and if the Romans continued to march
along the banks of the Tigris, they could only expect to return home
without achieving any enterprise worthy of the genius or fortune of
their leader. If, on the contrary, it was advisable to advance into the
inland country, the destruction of the fleet and magazines was the only
measure which could save that valuable prize from the hands of the
numerous and active troops which might suddenly be poured from the gates
of Ctesiphon. Had the arms of Julian been victorious, we should now
admire the conduct, as well as the courage, of a hero, who, by depriving
his soldiers of the hopes of a retreat, left them only the alternative
of death or conquest.

The cumbersome train of artillery and wagons, which retards the
operations of a modern army, were in a great measure unknown in the
camps of the Romans.  Yet, in every age, the subsistence of sixty
thousand men must have been one of the most important cares of a prudent
general; and that subsistence could only be drawn from his own or from
the enemy's country. Had it been possible for Julian to maintain a
bridge of communication on the Tigris, and to preserve the conquered
places of Assyria, a desolated province could not afford any large or
regular supplies, in a season of the year when the lands were covered by
the inundation of the Euphrates,  and the unwholesome air was darkened
with swarms of innumerable insects.  The appearance of the hostile
country was far more inviting. The extensive region that lies between
the River Tigris and the mountains of Media, was filled with villages
and towns; and the fertile soil, for the most part, was in a very
improved state of cultivation. Julian might expect, that a conqueror,
who possessed the two forcible instruments of persuasion, steel and
gold, would easily procure a plentiful subsistence from the fears or
avarice of the natives. But, on the approach of the Romans, the rich and
smiling prospect was instantly blasted. Wherever they moved, the
inhabitants deserted the open villages, and took shelter in the
fortified towns; the cattle was driven away; the grass and ripe corn
were consumed with fire; and, as soon as the flames had subsided which
interrupted the march of Julian, he beheld the melancholy face of a
smoking and naked desert. This desperate but effectual method of defence
can only be executed by the enthusiasm of a people who prefer their
independence to their property; or by the rigor of an arbitrary
government, which consults the public safety without submitting to their
inclinations the liberty of choice. On the present occasion the zeal and
obedience of the Persians seconded the commands of Sapor; and the
emperor was soon reduced to the scanty stock of provisions, which
continually wasted in his hands. Before they were entirely consumed, he
might still have reached the wealthy and unwarlike cities of Ecbatana or
Susa, by the effort of a rapid and well-directed march;  but he was
deprived of this last resource by his ignorance of the roads, and by the
perfidy of his guides. The Romans wandered several days in the country
to the eastward of Bagdad; the Persian deserter, who had artfully led
them into the spare, escaped from their resentment; and his followers,
as soon as they were put to the torture, confessed the secret of the
conspiracy. The visionary conquests of Hyrcania and India, which had so
long amused, now tormented, the mind of Julian. Conscious that his own
imprudence was the cause of the public distress, he anxiously balanced
the hopes of safety or success, without obtaining a satisfactory answer,
either from gods or men. At length, as the only practicable measure, he
embraced the resolution of directing his steps towards the banks of the
Tigris, with the design of saving the army by a hasty march to the
confines of Corduene; a fertile and friendly province, which
acknowledged the sovereignty of Rome. The desponding troops obeyed the
signal of the retreat, only seventy days after they had passed the
Chaboras, with the sanguine expectation of subverting the throne of
Persia.

As long as the Romans seemed to advance into the country, their march
was observed and insulted from a distance, by several bodies of Persian
cavalry; who, showing themselves sometimes in loose, and sometimes in
close order, faintly skirmished with the advanced guards. These
detachments were, however, supported by a much greater force; and the
heads of the columns were no sooner pointed towards the Tigris than a
cloud of dust arose on the plain. The Romans, who now aspired only to
the permission of a safe and speedy retreat, endeavored to persuade
themselves, that this formidable appearance was occasioned by a troop of
wild asses, or perhaps by the approach of some friendly Arabs. They
halted, pitched their tents, fortified their camp, passed the whole
night in continual alarms; and discovered at the dawn of day, that they
were surrounded by an army of Persians. This army, which might be
considered only as the van of the Barbarians, was soon followed by the
main body of cuirassiers, archers, and elephants, commanded by Meranes,
a general of rank and reputation. He was accompanied by two of the
king's sons, and many of the principal satraps; and fame and expectation
exaggerated the strength of the remaining powers, which slowly advanced
under the conduct of Sapor himself. As the Romans continued their march,
their long array, which was forced to bend or divide, according to the
varieties of the ground, afforded frequent and favorable opportunities
to their vigilant enemies. The Persians repeatedly charged with fury;
they were repeatedly repulsed with firmness; and the action at Maronga,
which almost deserved the name of a battle, was marked by a considerable
loss of satraps and elephants, perhaps of equal value in the eyes of
their monarch. These splendid advantages were not obtained without an
adequate slaughter on the side of the Romans: several officers of
distinction were either killed or wounded; and the emperor himself, who,
on all occasions of danger, inspired and guided the valor of his troops,
was obliged to expose his person, and exert his abilities. The weight of
offensive and defensive arms, which still constituted the strength and
safety of the Romans, disabled them from making any long or effectual
pursuit; and as the horsemen of the East were trained to dart their
javelins, and shoot their arrows, at full speed, and in every possible
direction,  the cavalry of Persia was never more formidable than in the
moment of a rapid and disorderly flight. But the most certain and
irreparable loss of the Romans was that of time. The hardy veterans,
accustomed to the cold climate of Gaul and Germany, fainted under the
sultry heat of an Assyrian summer; their vigor was exhausted by the
incessant repetition of march and combat; and the progress of the army
was suspended by the precautions of a slow and dangerous retreat, in the
presence of an active enemy. Every day, every hour, as the supply
diminished, the value and price of subsistence increased in the Roman
camp.  Julian, who always contented himself with such food as a hungry
soldier would have disdained, distributed, for the use of the troops,
the provisions of the Imperial household, and whatever could be spared,
from the sumpter-horses, of the tribunes and generals. But this feeble
relief served only to aggravate the sense of the public distress; and
the Romans began to entertain the most gloomy apprehensions that, before
they could reach the frontiers of the empire, they should all perish,
either by famine, or by the sword of the Barbarians.

While Julian struggled with the almost insuperable difficulties of his
situation, the silent hours of the night were still devoted to study and
contemplation. Whenever he closed his eyes in short and interrupted
slumbers, his mind was agitated with painful anxiety; nor can it be
thought surprising, that the Genius of the empire should once more
appear before him, covering with a funeral veil his head, and his horn
of abundance, and slowly retiring from the Imperial tent. The monarch
started from his couch, and stepping forth to refresh his wearied
spirits with the coolness of the midnight air, he beheld a fiery meteor,
which shot athwart the sky, and suddenly vanished. Julian was convinced
that he had seen the menacing countenance of the god of war;  the
council which he summoned, of Tuscan Haruspices,  unanimously pronounced
that he should abstain from action; but on this occasion, necessity and
reason were more prevalent than superstition; and the trumpets sounded
at the break of day. The army marched through a hilly country; and the
hills had been secretly occupied by the Persians. Julian led the van
with the skill and attention of a consummate general; he was alarmed by
the intelligence that his rear was suddenly attacked. The heat of the
weather had tempted him to lay aside his cuirass; but he snatched a
shield from one of his attendants, and hastened, with a sufficient
reenforcement, to the relief of the rear-guard. A similar danger
recalled the intrepid prince to the defence of the front; and, as he
galloped through the columns, the centre of the left was attacked, and
almost overpowered by the furious charge of the Persian cavalry and
elephants. This huge body was soon defeated, by the well-timed evolution
of the light infantry, who aimed their weapons, with dexterity and
effect, against the backs of the horsemen, and the legs of the
elephants. The Barbarians fled; and Julian, who was foremost in every
danger, animated the pursuit with his voice and gestures. His trembling
guards, scattered and oppressed by the disorderly throng of friends and
enemies, reminded their fearless sovereign that he was without armor;
and conjured him to decline the fall of the impending ruin. As they
exclaimed,  a cloud of darts and arrows was discharged from the flying
squadrons; and a javelin, after razing the skin of his arm, transpierced
the ribs, and fixed in the inferior part of the liver. Julian attempted
to draw the deadly weapon from his side; but his fingers were cut by the
sharpness of the steel, and he fell senseless from his horse. His guards
flew to his relief; and the wounded emperor was gently raised from the
ground, and conveyed out of the tumult of the battle into an adjacent
tent. The report of the melancholy event passed from rank to rank; but
the grief of the Romans inspired them with invincible valor, and the
desire of revenge. The bloody and obstinate conflict was maintained by
the two armies, till they were separated by the total darkness of the
night. The Persians derived some honor from the advantage which they
obtained against the left wing, where Anatolius, master of the offices,
was slain, and the præfect Sallust very narrowly escaped. But the event
of the day was adverse to the Barbarians. They abandoned the field;
their two generals, Meranes and Nohordates,  fifty nobles or satraps,
and a multitude of their bravest soldiers; and the success of the
Romans, if Julian had survived, might have been improved into a decisive
and useful victory.

The first words that Julian uttered, after his recovery from the
fainting fit into which he had been thrown by loss of blood, were
expressive of his martial spirit. He called for his horse and arms, and
was impatient to rush into the battle. His remaining strength was
exhausted by the painful effort; and the surgeons, who examined his
wound, discovered the symptoms of approaching death. He employed the
awful moments with the firm temper of a hero and a sage; the
philosophers who had accompanied him in this fatal expedition, compared
the tent of Julian with the prison of Socrates; and the spectators, whom
duty, or friendship, or curiosity, had assembled round his couch,
listened with respectful grief to the funeral oration of their dying
emperor.  "Friends and fellow-soldiers, the seasonable period of my
departure is now arrived, and I discharge, with the cheerfulness of a
ready debtor, the demands of nature. I have learned from philosophy, how
much the soul is more excellent than the body; and that the separation
of the nobler substance should be the subject of joy, rather than of
affliction. I have learned from religion, that an early death has often
been the reward of piety;  and I accept, as a favor of the gods, the
mortal stroke that secures me from the danger of disgracing a character,
which has hitherto been supported by virtue and fortitude. I die without
remorse, as I have lived without guilt. I am pleased to reflect on the
innocence of my private life; and I can affirm with confidence, that the
supreme authority, that emanation of the Divine Power, has been
preserved in my hands pure and immaculate. Detesting the corrupt and
destructive maxims of despotism, I have considered the happiness of the
people as the end of government. Submitting my actions to the laws of
prudence, of justice, and of moderation, I have trusted the event to the
care of Providence. Peace was the object of my counsels, as long as
peace was consistent with the public welfare; but when the imperious
voice of my country summoned me to arms, I exposed my person to the
dangers of war, with the clear foreknowledge (which I had acquired from
the art of divination) that I was destined to fall by the sword. I now
offer my tribute of gratitude to the Eternal Being, who has not suffered
me to perish by the cruelty of a tyrant, by the secret dagger of
conspiracy, or by the slow tortures of lingering disease. He has given
me, in the midst of an honorable career, a splendid and glorious
departure from this world; and I hold it equally absurd, equally base,
to solicit, or to decline, the stroke of fate. This much I have
attempted to say; but my strength fails me, and I feel the approach of
death. I shall cautiously refrain from any word that may tend to
influence your suffrages in the election of an emperor. My choice might
be imprudent or injudicious; and if it should not be ratified by the
consent of the army, it might be fatal to the person whom I should
recommend. I shall only, as a good citizen, express my hopes, that the
Romans may be blessed with the government of a virtuous sovereign."
After this discourse, which Julian pronounced in a firm and gentle tone
of voice, he distributed, by a military testament,  the remains of his
private fortune; and making some inquiry why Anatolius was not present,
he understood, from the answer of Sallust, that Anatolius was killed;
and bewailed, with amiable inconsistency, the loss of his friend. At the
same time he reproved the immoderate grief of the spectators; and
conjured them not to disgrace, by unmanly tears, the fate of a prince,
who in a few moments would be united with heaven, and with the stars.
The spectators were silent; and Julian entered into a metaphysical
argument with the philosophers Priscus and Maximus, on the nature of the
soul. The efforts which he made, of mind as well as body, most probably
hastened his death. His wound began to bleed with fresh violence; his
respiration was embarrassed by the swelling of the veins; he called for
a draught of cold water, and, as soon as he had drank it, expired
without pain, about the hour of midnight. Such was the end of that
extraordinary man, in the thirty-second year of his age, after a reign
of one year and about eight months, from the death of Constantius. In
his last moments he displayed, perhaps with some ostentation, the love
of virtue and of fame, which had been the ruling passions of his life.

The triumph of Christianity, and the calamities of the empire, may, in
some measure, be ascribed to Julian himself, who had neglected to secure
the future execution of his designs, by the timely and judicious
nomination of an associate and successor. But the royal race of
Constantius Chlorus was reduced to his own person; and if he entertained
any serious thoughts of investing with the purple the most worthy among
the Romans, he was diverted from his resolution by the difficulty of the
choice, the jealousy of power, the fear of ingratitude, and the natural
presumption of health, of youth, and of prosperity. His unexpected death
left the empire without a master, and without an heir, in a state of
perplexity and danger, which, in the space of fourscore years, had never
been experienced, since the election of Diocletian. In a government
which had almost forgotten the distinction of pure and noble blood, the
superiority of birth was of little moment; the claims of official rank
were accidental and precarious; and the candidates, who might aspire to
ascend the vacant throne could be supported only by the consciousness of
personal merit, or by the hopes of popular favor. But the situation of a
famished army, encompassed on all sides by a host of Barbarians,
shortened the moments of grief and deliberation. In this scene of terror
and distress, the body of the deceased prince, according to his own
directions, was decently embalmed; and, at the dawn of day, the generals
convened a military senate, at which the commanders of the legions, and
the officers both of cavalry and infantry, were invited to assist. Three
or four hours of the night had not passed away without some secret
cabals; and when the election of an emperor was proposed, the spirit of
faction began to agitate the assembly. Victor and Arinthæus collected
the remains of the court of Constantius; the friends of Julian attached
themselves to the Gallic chiefs, Dagalaiphus and Nevitta; and the most
fatal consequences might be apprehended from the discord of two
factions, so opposite in their character and interest, in their maxims
of government, and perhaps in their religious principles. The superior
virtues of Sallust could alone reconcile their divisions, and unite
their suffrages; and the venerable præfect would immediately have been
declared the successor of Julian, if he himself, with sincere and modest
firmness, had not alleged his age and infirmities, so unequal to the
weight of the diadem. The generals, who were surprised and perplexed by
his refusal, showed some disposition to adopt the salutary advice of an
inferior officer,  that they should act as they would have acted in the
absence of the emperor; that they should exert their abilities to
extricate the army from the present distress; and, if they were
fortunate enough to reach the confines of Mesopotamia, they should
proceed with united and deliberate counsels in the election of a lawful
sovereign. While they debated, a few voices saluted Jovian, who was no
more than firstof the domestics, with the names of Emperor and Augustus.
The tumultuary acclamation * was instantly repeated by the guards who
surrounded the tent, and passed, in a few minutes, to the extremities of
the line. The new prince, astonished with his own fortune was hastily
invested with the Imperial ornaments, and received an oath of fidelity
from the generals, whose favor and protection he so lately solicited.
The strongest recommendation of Jovian was the merit of his father,
Count Varronian, who enjoyed, in honorable retirement, the fruit of his
long services. In the obscure freedom of a private station, the son
indulged his taste for wine and women; yet he supported, with credit,
the character of a Christian  and a soldier. Without being conspicuous
for any of the ambitious qualifications which excite the admiration and
envy of mankind, the comely person of Jovian, his cheerful temper, and
familiar wit, had gained the affection of his fellow-soldiers; and the
generals of both parties acquiesced in a popular election, which had not
been conducted by the arts of their enemies. The pride of this
unexpected elevation was moderated by the just apprehension, that the
same day might terminate the life and reign of the new emperor. The
pressing voice of necessity was obeyed without delay; and the first
orders issued by Jovian, a few hours after his predecessor had expired,
were to prosecute a march, which could alone extricate the Romans from
their actual distress.

Chapter XXIV: The Retreat And Death Of Julian. -- Part V.

The esteem of an enemy is most sincerely expressed by his fears; and the
degree of fear may be accurately measured by the joy with which he
celebrates his deliverance. The welcome news of the death of Julian,
which a deserter revealed to the camp of Sapor, inspired the desponding
monarch with a sudden confidence of victory. He immediately detached the
royal cavalry, perhaps the ten thousand Immortals,  to second and
support the pursuit; and discharged the whole weight of his united
forces on the rear-guard of the Romans. The rear-guard was thrown into
disorder; the renowned legions, which derived their titles from
Diocletian, and his warlike colleague, were broke and trampled down by
the elephants; and three tribunes lost their lives in attempting to stop
the flight of their soldiers. The battle was at length restored by the
persevering valor of the Romans; the Persians were repulsed with a great
slaughter of men and elephants; and the army, after marching and
fighting a long summer's day, arrived, in the evening, at Samara, on the
banks of the Tigris, about one hundred miles above Ctesiphon.  On the
ensuing day, the Barbarians, instead of harassing the march, attacked
the camp, of Jovian; which had been seated in a deep and sequestered
valley. From the hills, the archers of Persia insulted and annoyed the
wearied legionaries; and a body of cavalry, which had penetrated with
desperate courage through the Prætorian gate, was cut in pieces, after a
doubtful conflict, near the Imperial tent. In the succeeding night, the
camp of Carche was protected by the lofty dikes of the river; and the
Roman army, though incessantly exposed to the vexatious pursuit of the
Saracens, pitched their tents near the city of Dura,  four days after
the death of Julian. The Tigris was still on their left; their hopes and
provisions were almost consumed; and the impatient soldiers, who had
fondly persuaded themselves that the frontiers of the empire were not
far distant, requested their new sovereign, that they might be permitted
to hazard the passage of the river. With the assistance of his wisest
officers, Jovian endeavored to check their rashness; by representing,
that if they possessed sufficient skill and vigor to stem the torrent of
a deep and rapid stream, they would only deliver themselves naked and
defenceless to the Barbarians, who had occupied the opposite banks,
Yielding at length to their clamorous importunities, he consented, with
reluctance, that five hundred Gauls and Germans, accustomed from their
infancy to the waters of the Rhine and Danube, should attempt the bold
adventure, which might serve either as an encouragement, or as a
warning, for the rest of the army. In the silence of the night, they
swam the Tigris, surprised an unguarded post of the enemy, and displayed
at the dawn of day the signal of their resolution and fortune. The
success of this trial disposed the emperor to listen to the promises of
his architects, who propose to construct a floating bridge of the
inflated skins of sheep, oxen, and goats, covered with a floor of earth
and fascines.  Two important days were spent in the ineffectual labor;
and the Romans, who already endured the miseries of famine, cast a look
of despair on the Tigris, and upon the Barbarians; whose numbers and
obstinacy increased with the distress of the Imperial army.

In this hopeless condition, the fainting spirits of the Romans were
revived by the sound of peace. The transient presumption of Sapor had
vanished: he observed, with serious concern, that, in the repetition of
doubtful combats, he had lost his most faithful and intrepid nobles, his
bravest troops, and the greatest part of his train of elephants: and the
experienced monarch feared to provoke the resistance of despair, the
vicissitudes of fortune, and the unexhausted powers of the Roman empire;
which might soon advance to relieve, or to revenge, the successor of
Julian. The Surenas himself, accompanied by another satrap, * appeared
in the camp of Jovian;  and declared, that the clemency of his sovereign
was not averse to signify the conditions on which he would consent to
spare and to dismiss the Cæsar with the relics of his captive army.  The
hopes of safety subdued the firmness of the Romans; the emperor was
compelled, by the advice of his council, and the cries of his soldiers,
to embrace the offer of peace;  and the præfect Sallust was immediately
sent, with the general Arinthæus, to understand the pleasure of the
Great King. The crafty Persian delayed, under various pretenses, the
conclusion of the agreement; started difficulties, required
explanations, suggested expedients, receded from his concessions,
increased his demands, and wasted four days in the arts of negotiation,
till he had consumed the stock of provisions which yet remained in the
camp of the Romans. Had Jovian been capable of executing a bold and
prudent measure, he would have continued his march, with unremitting
diligence; the progress of the treaty would have suspended the attacks
of the Barbarians; and, before the expiration of the fourth day, he
might have safely reached the fruitful province of Corduene, at the
distance only of one hundred miles.  The irresolute emperor, instead of
breaking through the toils of the enemy, expected his fate with patient
resignation; and accepted the humiliating conditions of peace, which it
was no longer in his power to refuse. The five provinces beyond the
Tigris, which had been ceded by the grandfather of Sapor, were restored
to the Persian monarchy. He acquired, by a single article, the
impregnable city of Nisibis; which had sustained, in three successive
sieges, the effort of his arms. Singara, and the castle of the Moors,
one of the strongest places of Mesopotamia, were likewise dismembered
from the empire. It was considered as an indulgence, that the
inhabitants of those fortresses were permitted to retire with their
effects; but the conqueror rigorously insisted, that the Romans should
forever abandon the king and kingdom of Armenia. §A peace, or rather a
long truce, of thirty years, was stipulated between the hostile nations;
the faith of the treaty was ratified by solemn oaths and religious
ceremonies; and hostages of distinguished rank were reciprocally
delivered to secure the performance of the conditions.

The sophist of Antioch, who saw with indignation the sceptre of his hero
in the feeble hand of a Christian successor, professes to admire the
moderation of Sapor, in contenting himself with so small a portion of
the Roman empire. If he had stretched as far as the Euphrates the claims
of his ambition, he might have been secure, says Libanius, of not
meeting with a refusal. If he had fixed, as the boundary of Persia, the
Orontes, the Cydnus, the Sangarius, or even the Thracian Bosphorus,
flatterers would not have been wanting in the court of Jovian to
convince the timid monarch, that his remaining provinces would still
afford the most ample gratifications of power and luxury.  Without
adopting in its full force this malicious insinuation, we must
acknowledge, that the conclusion of so ignominious a treaty was
facilitated by the private ambition of Jovian. The obscure domestic,
exalted to the throne by fortune, rather than by merit, was impatient to
escape from the hands of the Persians, that he might prevent the designs
of Procopius, who commanded the army of Mesopotamia, and establish his
doubtful reign over the legions and provinces which were still ignorant
of the hasty and tumultuous choice of the camp beyond the Tigris.  In
the neighborhood of the same river, at no very considerable distance
from the fatal station of Dura,  the ten thousand Greeks, without
generals, or guides, or provisions, were abandoned, above twelve hundred
miles from their native country, to the resentment of a victorious
monarch. The difference of theirconduct and success depended much more
on their character than on their situation. Instead of tamely resigning
themselves to the secret deliberations and private views of a single
person, the united councils of the Greeks were inspired by the generous
enthusiasm of a popular assembly; where the mind of each citizen is
filled with the love of glory, the pride of freedom, and the contempt of
death. Conscious of their superiority over the Barbarians in arms and
discipline, they disdained to yield, they refused to capitulate: every
obstacle was surmounted by their patience, courage, and military skill;
and the memorable retreat of the ten thousand exposed and insulted the
weakness of the Persian monarchy.

As the price of his disgraceful concessions, the emperor might perhaps
have stipulated, that the camp of the hungry Romans should be
plentifully supplied;  and that they should be permitted to pass the
Tigris on the bridge which was constructed by the hands of the Persians.
But, if Jovian presumed to solicit those equitable terms, they were
sternly refused by the haughty tyrant of the East, whose clemency had
pardoned the invaders of his country. The Saracens sometimes intercepted
the stragglers of the march; but the generals and troops of Sapor
respected the cessation of arms; and Jovian was suffered to explore the
most convenient place for the passage of the river. The small vessels,
which had been saved from the conflagration of the fleet, performed the
most essential service. They first conveyed the emperor and his
favorites; and afterwards transported, in many successive voyages, a
great part of the army. But, as every man was anxious for his personal
safety, and apprehensive of being left on the hostile shore, the
soldiers, who were too impatient to wait the slow returns of the boats,
boldly ventured themselves on light hurdles, or inflated skins; and,
drawing after them their horses, attempted, with various success, to
swim across the river. Many of these daring adventurers were swallowed
by the waves; many others, who were carried along by the violence of the
stream, fell an easy prey to the avarice or cruelty of the wild Arabs:
and the loss which the army sustained in the passage of the Tigris, was
not inferior to the carnage of a day of battle. As soon as the Romans
were landed on the western bank, they were delivered from the hostile
pursuit of the Barbarians; but, in a laborious march of two hundred
miles over the plains of Mesopotamia, they endured the last extremities
of thirst and hunger. They were obliged to traverse the sandy desert,
which, in the extent of seventy miles, did not afford a single blade of
sweet grass, nor a single spring of fresh water; and the rest of the
inhospitable waste was untrod by the footsteps either of friends or
enemies. Whenever a small measure of flour could be discovered in the
camp, twenty pounds weight were greedily purchased with ten pieces of
gold:  the beasts of burden were slaughtered and devoured; and the
desert was strewed with the arms and baggage of the Roman soldiers,
whose tattered garments and meagre countenances displayed their past
sufferings and actual misery. A small convoy of provisions advanced to
meet the army as far as the castle of Ur; and the supply was the more
grateful, since it declared the fidelity of Sebastian and Procopius. At
Thilsaphata,  the emperor most graciously received the generals of
Mesopotamia; and the remains of a once flourishing army at length
reposed themselves under the walls of Nisibis. The messengers of Jovian
had already proclaimed, in the language of flattery, his election, his
treaty, and his return; and the new prince had taken the most effectual
measures to secure the allegiance of the armies and provinces of Europe,
by placing the military command in the hands of those officers, who,
from motives of interest, or inclination, would firmly support the cause
of their benefactor.

The friends of Julian had confidently announced the success of his
expedition. They entertained a fond persuasion that the temples of the
gods would be enriched with the spoils of the East; that Persia would be
reduced to the humble state of a tributary province, governed by the
laws and magistrates of Rome; that the Barbarians would adopt the dress,
and manners, and language of their conquerors; and that the youth of
Ecbatana and Susa would study the art of rhetoric under Grecian masters.
The progress of the arms of Julian interrupted his communication with
the empire; and, from the moment that he passed the Tigris, his
affectionate subjects were ignorant of the fate and fortunes of their
prince. Their contemplation of fancied triumphs was disturbed by the
melancholy rumor of his death; and they persisted to doubt, after they
could no longer deny, the truth of that fatal event.  The messengers of
Jovian promulgated the specious tale of a prudent and necessary peace;
the voice of fame, louder and more sincere, revealed the disgrace of the
emperor, and the conditions of the ignominious treaty. The minds of the
people were filled with astonishment and grief, with indignation and
terror, when they were informed, that the unworthy successor of Julian
relinquished the five provinces which had been acquired by the victory
of Galerius; and that he shamefully surrendered to the Barbarians the
important city of Nisibis, the firmest bulwark of the provinces of the
East.  The deep and dangerous question, how far the public faith should
be observed, when it becomes incompatible with the public safety, was
freely agitated in popular conversation; and some hopes were entertained
that the emperor would redeem his pusillanimous behavior by a splendid
act of patriotic perfidy. The inflexible spirit of the Roman senate had
always disclaimed the unequal conditions which were extorted from the
distress of their captive armies; and, if it were necessary to satisfy
the national honor, by delivering the guilty general into the hands of
the Barbarians, the greatest part of the subjects of Jovian would have
cheerfully acquiesced in the precedent of ancient times.

But the emperor, whatever might be the limits of his constitutional
authority, was the absolute master of the laws and arms of the state;
and the same motives which had forced him to subscribe, now pressed him
to execute, the treaty of peace. He was impatient to secure an empire at
the expense of a few provinces; and the respectable names of religion
and honor concealed the personal fears and ambition of Jovian.
Notwithstanding the dutiful solicitations of the inhabitants, decency,
as well as prudence, forbade the emperor to lodge in the palace of
Nisibis; but the next morning after his arrival. Bineses, the ambassador
of Persia, entered the place, displayed from the citadel the standard of
the Great King, and proclaimed, in his name, the cruel alternative of
exile or servitude. The principal citizens of Nisibis, who, till that
fatal moment, had confided in the protection of their sovereign, threw
themselves at his feet. They conjured him not to abandon, or, at least,
not to deliver, a faithful colony to the rage of a Barbarian tyrant,
exasperated by the three successive defeats which he had experienced
under the walls of Nisibis. They still possessed arms and courage to
repel the invaders of their country: they requested only the permission
of using them in their own defence; and, as soon as they had asserted
their independence, they should implore the favor of being again
admitted into the ranks of his subjects. Their arguments, their
eloquence, their tears, were ineffectual. Jovian alleged, with some
confusion, the sanctity of oaths; and, as the reluctance with which he
accepted the present of a crown of gold, convinced the citizens of their
hopeless condition, the advocate Sylvanus was provoked to exclaim, "O
emperor! may you thus be crowned by all the cities of your dominions!"
Jovian, who in a few weeks had assumed the habits of a prince,  was
displeased with freedom, and offended with truth: and as he reasonably
supposed, that the discontent of the people might incline them to submit
to the Persian government, he published an edict, under pain of death,
that they should leave the city within the term of three days. Ammianus
has delineated in lively colors the scene of universal despair, which he
seems to have viewed with an eye of compassion.  The martial youth
deserted, with indignant grief, the walls which they had so gloriously
defended: the disconsolate mourner dropped a last tear over the tomb of
a son or husband, which must soon be profaned by the rude hand of a
Barbarian master; and the aged citizen kissed the threshold, and clung
to the doors, of the house where he had passed the cheerful and careless
hours of infancy. The highways were crowded with a trembling multitude:
the distinctions of rank, and sex, and age, were lost in the general
calamity. Every one strove to bear away some fragment from the wreck of
his fortunes; and as they could not command the immediate service of an
adequate number of horses or wagons, they were obliged to leave behind
them the greatest part of their valuable effects. The savage
insensibility of Jovian appears to have aggravated the hardships of
these unhappy fugitives. They were seated, however, in a new-built
quarter of Amida; and that rising city, with the reenforcement of a very
considerable colony, soon recovered its former splendor, and became the
capital of Mesopotamia.  Similar orders were despatched by the emperor
for the evacuation of Singara and the castle of the Moors; and for the
restitution of the five provinces beyond the Tigris. Sapor enjoyed the
glory and the fruits of his victory; and this ignominious peace has
justly been considered as a memorable æra in the decline and fall of the
Roman empire. The predecessors of Jovian had sometimes relinquished the
dominion of distant and unprofitable provinces; but, since the
foundation of the city, the genius of Rome, the god Terminus, who
guarded the boundaries of the republic, had never retired before the
sword of a victorious enemy.

After Jovian had performed those engagements which the voice of his
people might have tempted him to violate, he hastened away from the
scene of his disgrace, and proceeded with his whole court to enjoy the
luxury of Antioch.  Without consulting the dictates of religious zeal,
he was prompted, by humanity and gratitude, to bestow the last honors on
the remains of his deceased sovereign:  and Procopius, who sincerely
bewailed the loss of his kinsman, was removed from the command of the
army, under the decent pretence of conducting the funeral. The corpse of
Julian was transported from Nisibis to Tarsus, in a slow march of
fifteen days; and, as it passed through the cities of the East, was
saluted by the hostile factions, with mournful lamentations and
clamorous insults. The Pagans already placed their beloved hero in the
rank of those gods whose worship he had restored; while the invectives
of the Christians pursued the soul of the Apostate to hell, and his body
to the grave.  One party lamented the approaching ruin of their altars;
the other celebrated the marvellous deliverance of their church. The
Christians applauded, in lofty and ambiguous strains, the stroke of
divine vengeance, which had been so long suspended over the guilty head
of Julian. They acknowledge, that the death of the tyrant, at the
instant he expired beyond the Tigris, was revealedto the saints of
Egypt, Syria, and Cappadocia;  and instead of suffering him to fall by
the Persian darts, their indiscretion ascribed the heroic deed to the
obscure hand of some mortal or immortal champion of the faith.  Such
imprudent declarations were eagerly adopted by the malice, or credulity,
of their adversaries;  who darkly insinuated, or confidently asserted,
that the governors of the church had instigated and directed the
fanaticism of a domestic assassin.  Above sixteen years after the death
of Julian, the charge was solemnly and vehemently urged, in a public
oration, addressed by Libanius to the emperor Theodosius. His suspicions
are unsupported by fact or argument; and we can only esteem the generous
zeal of the sophist of Antioch for the cold and neglected ashes of his
friend.

It was an ancient custom in the funerals, as well as in the triumphs, of
the Romans, that the voice of praise should be corrected by that of
satire and ridicule; and that, in the midst of the splendid pageants,
which displayed the glory of the living or of the dead, their
imperfections should not be concealed from the eyes of the world.  This
custom was practised in the funeral of Julian. The comedians, who
resented his contempt and aversion for the theatre, exhibited, with the
applause of a Christian audience, the lively and exaggerated
representation of the faults and follies of the deceased emperor. His
various character and singular manners afforded an ample scope for
pleasantry and ridicule.  In the exercise of his uncommon talents, he
often descended below the majesty of his rank. Alexander was transformed
into Diogenes; the philosopher was degraded into a priest. The purity of
his virtue was sullied by excessive vanity; his superstition disturbed
the peace, and endangered the safety, of a mighty empire; and his
irregular sallies were the less entitled to indulgence, as they appeared
to be the laborious efforts of art, or even of affectation. The remains
of Julian were interred at Tarsus in Cilicia; but his stately tomb,
which arose in that city, on the banks of the cold and limpid Cydnus,
was displeasing to the faithful friends, who loved and revered the
memory of that extraordinary man. The philosopher expressed a very
reasonable wish, that the disciple of Plato might have reposed amidst
the groves of the academy;  while the soldier exclaimed, in bolder
accents, that the ashes of Julian should have been mingled with those of
Cæsar, in the field of Mars, and among the ancient monuments of Roman
virtue.  The history of princes does not very frequently renew the
examples of a similar competition.

Chapter XXV: Reigns Of Jovian And Valentinian, Division Of The Empire.
Part I.

The Government And Death Of Jovian. -- Election Of Valentinian, Who
Associates His Brother Valens, And Makes The Final Division Of The
Eastern And Western Empires. -- Revolt Of Procopius. -- Civil And
Ecclesiastical Administration. -- Germany. -- Britain. -- Africa. -- The
East. -- The Danube. -- Death Of Valentinian. -- His Two Sons, Gratian
And Valentinian II., Succeed To The Western Empire.

The death of Julian had left the public affairs of the empire in a very
doubtful and dangerous situation. The Roman army was saved by an
inglorious, perhaps a necessary treaty;  and the first moments of peace
were consecrated by the pious Jovian to restore the domestic tranquility
of the church and state. The indiscretion of his predecessor, instead of
reconciling, had artfully fomented the religious war: and the balance
which he affected to preserve between the hostile factions, served only
to perpetuate the contest, by the vicissitudes of hope and fear, by the
rival claims of ancient possession and actual favor. The Christians had
forgotten the spirit of the gospel; and the Pagans had imbibed the
spirit of the church. In private families, the sentiments of nature were
extinguished by the blind fury of zeal and revenge: the majesty of the
laws was violated or abused; the cities of the East were stained with
blood; and the most implacable enemies of the Romans were in the bosom
of their country. Jovian was educated in the profession of Christianity;
and as he marched from Nisibis to Antioch, the banner of the Cross, the
Labarum of Constantine, which was again displayed at the head of the
legions, announced to the people the faith of their new emperor. As soon
as he ascended the throne, he transmitted a circular epistle to all the
governors of provinces; in which he confessed the divine truth, and
secured the legal establishment, of the Christian religion. The
insidious edicts of Julian were abolished; the ecclesiastical immunities
were restored and enlarged; and Jovian condescended to lament, that the
distress of the times obliged him to diminish the measure of charitable
distributions.  The Christians were unanimous in the loud and sincere
applause which they bestowed on the pious successor of Julian. But they
were still ignorant what creed, or what synod, he would choose for the
standard of orthodoxy; and the peace of the church immediately revived
those eager disputes which had been suspended during the season of
persecution. The episcopal leaders of the contending sects, convinced,
from experience, how much their fate would depend on the earliest
impressions that were made on the mind of an untutored soldier, hastened
to the court of Edessa, or Antioch. The highways of the East were
crowded with Homoousian, and Arian, and Semi-Arian, and Eunomian
bishops, who struggled to outstrip each other in the holy race: the
apartments of the palace resounded with their clamors; and the ears of
the prince were assaulted, and perhaps astonished, by the singular
mixture of metaphysical argument and passionate invective.  The
moderation of Jovian, who recommended concord and charity, and referred
the disputants to the sentence of a future council, was interpreted as a
symptom of indifference: but his attachment to the Nicene creed was at
length discovered and declared, by the reverence which he expressed for
the celestialvirtues of the great Athanasius. The intrepid veteran of
the faith, at the age of seventy, had issued from his retreat on the
first intelligence of the tyrant's death. The acclamations of the people
seated him once more on the archiepiscopal throne; and he wisely
accepted, or anticipated, the invitation of Jovian. The venerable figure
of Athanasius, his calm courage, and insinuating eloquence, sustained
the reputation which he had already acquired in the courts of four
successive princes.  As soon as he had gained the confidence, and
secured the faith, of the Christian emperor, he returned in triumph to
his diocese, and continued, with mature counsels and undiminished vigor,
to direct, ten years longer,  the ecclesiastical government of
Alexandria, Egypt, and the Catholic church. Before his departure from
Antioch, he assured Jovian that his orthodox devotion would be rewarded
with a long and peaceful reign. Athanasius, had reason to hope, that he
should be allowed either the merit of a successful prediction, or the
excuse of a grateful though ineffectual prayer.

The slightest force, when it is applied to assist and guide the natural
descent of its object, operates with irresistible weight; and Jovian had
the good fortune to embrace the religious opinions which were supported
by the spirit of the times, and the zeal and numbers of the most
powerful sect.  Under his reign, Christianity obtained an easy and
lasting victory; and as soon as the smile of royal patronage was
withdrawn, the genius of Paganism, which had been fondly raised and
cherished by the arts of Julian, sunk irrecoverably in the. In many
cities, the temples were shut or deserted: the philosophers who had
abused their transient favor, thought it prudent to shave their beards,
and disguise their profession; and the Christians rejoiced, that they
were now in a condition to forgive, or to revenge, the injuries which
they had suffered under the preceding reign.  The consternation of the
Pagan world was dispelled by a wise and gracious edict of toleration; in
which Jovian explicitly declared, that although he should severely
punish the sacrilegious rites of magic, his subjects might exercise,
with freedom and safety, the ceremonies of the ancient worship. The
memory of this law has been preserved by the orator Themistius, who was
deputed by the senate of Constantinople to express their royal devotion
for the new emperor. Themistius expatiates on the clemency of the Divine
Nature, the facility of human error, the rights of conscience, and the
independence of the mind; and, with some eloquence, inculcates the
principles of philosophical toleration; whose aid Superstition herself,
in the hour of her distress, is not ashamed to implore. He justly
observes, that in the recent changes, both religions had been
alternately disgraced by the seeming acquisition of worthless
proselytes, of those votaries of the reigning purple, who could pass,
without a reason, and without a blush, from the church to the temple,
and from the altars of Jupiter to the sacred table of the Christians.

In the space of seven months, the Roman troops, who were now returned to
Antioch, had performed a march of fifteen hundred miles; in which they
had endured all the hardships of war, of famine, and of climate.
Notwithstanding their services, their fatigues, and the approach of
winter, the timid and impatient Jovian allowed only, to the men and
horses, a respite of six weeks. The emperor could not sustain the
indiscreet and malicious raillery of the people of Antioch.  He was
impatient to possess the palace of Constantinople; and to prevent the
ambition of some competitor, who might occupy the vacant allegiance of
Europe. But he soon received the grateful intelligence, that his
authority was acknowledged from the Thracian Bosphorus to the Atlantic
Ocean. By the first letters which he despatched from the camp of
Mesopotamia, he had delegated the military command of Gaul and Illyricum
to Malarich, a brave and faithful officer of the nation of the Franks;
and to his father-in-law, Count Lucillian, who had formerly
distinguished his courage and conduct in the defence of Nisibis.
Malarich had declined an office to which he thought himself unequal; and
Lucillian was massacred at Rheims, in an accidental mutiny of the
Batavian cohorts.  But the moderation of Jovinus, master-general of the
cavalry, who forgave the intention of his disgrace, soon appeased the
tumult, and confirmed the uncertain minds of the soldiers. The oath of
fidelity was administered and taken, with loyal acclamations; and the
deputies of the Western armies  saluted their new sovereign as he
descended from Mount Taurus to the city of Tyana in Cappadocia. From
Tyana he continued his hasty march to Ancyra, capital of the province of
Galatia; where Jovian assumed, with his infant son, the name and ensigns
of the consulship.  Dadastana,  an obscure town, almost at an equal
distance between Ancyra and Nice, was marked for the fatal term of his
journey and life. After indulging himself with a plentiful, perhaps an
intemperate, supper, he retired to rest; and the next morning the
emperor Jovian was found dead in his bed. The cause of this sudden death
was variously understood. By some it was ascribed to the consequences of
an indigestion, occasioned either by the quantity of the wine, or the
quality of the mushrooms, which he had swallowed in the evening.
According to others, he was suffocated in his sleep by the vapor of
charcoal, which extracted from the walls of the apartment the
unwholesome moisture of the fresh plaster.  But the want of a regular
inquiry into the death of a prince, whose reign and person were soon
forgotten, appears to have been the only circumstance which countenanced
the malicious whispers of poison and domestic guilt.  The body of Jovian
was sent to Constantinople, to be interred with his predecessors, and
the sad procession was met on the road by his wife Charito, the daughter
of Count Lucillian; who still wept the recent death of her father, and
was hastening to dry her tears in the embraces of an Imperial husband.
Her disappointment and grief were imbittered by the anxiety of maternal
tenderness. Six weeks before the death of Jovian, his infant son had
been placed in the curule chair, adorned with the title of Nobilissimus,
and the vain ensigns of the consulship. Unconscious of his fortune, the
royal youth, who, from his grandfather, assumed the name of Varronian,
was reminded only by the jealousy of the government, that he was the son
of an emperor. Sixteen years afterwards he was still alive, but he had
already been deprived of an eye; and his afflicted mother expected every
hour, that the innocent victim would be torn from her arms, to appease,
with his blood, the suspicions of the reigning prince.

After the death of Jovian, the throne of the Roman world remained ten
days,  without a master. The ministers and generals still continued to
meet in council; to exercise their respective functions; to maintain the
public order; and peaceably to conduct the army to the city of Nice in
Bithynia, which was chosen for the place of the election.  In a solemn
assembly of the civil and military powers of the empire, the diadem was
again unanimously offered to the præfect Sallust. He enjoyed the glory
of a second refusal: and when the virtues of the father were alleged in
favor of his son, the præfect, with the firmness of a disinterested
patriot, declared to the electors, that the feeble age of the one, and
the unexperienced youth of the other, were equally incapable of the
laborious duties of government. Several candidates were proposed; and,
after weighing the objections of character or situation, they were
successively rejected; but, as soon as the name of Valentinian was
pronounced, the merit of that officer united the suffrages of the whole
assembly, and obtained the sincere approbation of Sallust himself.
Valentinian  was the son of Count Gratian, a native of Cibalis, in
Pannonia, who from an obscure condition had raised himself, by matchless
strength and dexterity, to the military commands of Africa and Britain;
from which he retired with an ample fortune and suspicious integrity.
The rank and services of Gratian contributed, however, to smooth the
first steps of the promotion of his son; and afforded him an early
opportunity of displaying those solid and useful qualifications, which
raised his character above the ordinary level of his fellow-soldiers.
The person of Valentinian was tall, graceful, and majestic. His manly
countenance, deeply marked with the impression of sense and spirit,
inspired his friends with awe, and his enemies with fear; and to second
the efforts of his undaunted courage, the son of Gratian had inherited
the advantages of a strong and healthy constitution. By the habits of
chastity and temperance, which restrain the appetites and invigorate the
faculties, Valentinian preserved his own and the public esteem. The
avocations of a military life had diverted his youth from the elegant
pursuits of literature; * he was ignorant of the Greek language, and the
arts of rhetoric; but as the mind of the orator was never disconcerted
by timid perplexity, he was able, as often as the occasion prompted him,
to deliver his decided sentiments with bold and ready elocution. The
laws of martial discipline were the only laws that he had studied; and
he was soon distinguished by the laborious diligence, and inflexible
severity, with which he discharged and enforced the duties of the camp.
In the time of Julian he provoked the danger of disgrace, by the
contempt which he publicly expressed for the reigning religion;  and it
should seem, from his subsequent conduct, that the indiscreet and
unseasonable freedom of Valentinian was the effect of military spirit,
rather than of Christian zeal. He was pardoned, however, and still
employed by a prince who esteemed his merit;  and in the various events
of the Persian war, he improved the reputation which he had already
acquired on the banks of the Rhine. The celerity and success with which
he executed an important commission, recommended him to the favor of
Jovian; and to the honorable command of the second school, or company,
of Targetiers, of the domestic guards. In the march from Antioch, he had
reached his quarters at Ancyra, when he was unexpectedly summoned,
without guilt and without intrigue, to assume, in the forty-third year
of his age, the absolute government of the Roman empire.

The invitation of the ministers and generals at Nice was of little
moment, unless it were confirmed by the voice of the army. The aged
Sallust, who had long observed the irregular fluctuations of popular
assemblies, proposed, under pain of death, that none of those persons,
whose rank in the service might excite a party in their favor, should
appear in public on the day of the inauguration. Yet such was the
prevalence of ancient superstition, that a whole day was voluntarily
added to this dangerous interval, because it happened to be the
intercalation of the Bissextile.  At length, when the hour was supposed
to be propitious, Valentinian showed himself from a lofty tribunal; the
judicious choice was applauded; and the new prince was solemnly invested
with the diadem and the purple, amidst the acclamation of the troops,
who were disposed in martial order round the tribunal. But when he
stretched forth his hand to address the armed multitude, a busy whisper
was accidentally started in the ranks, and insensibly swelled into a
loud and imperious clamor, that he should name, without delay, a
colleague in the empire. The intrepid calmness of Valentinian obtained
silence, and commanded respect; and he thus addressed the assembly: "A
few minutes since it was in yourpower, fellow-soldiers, to have left me
in the obscurity of a private station. Judging, from the testimony of my
past life, that I deserved to reign, you have placed me on the throne.
It is now myduty to consult the safety and interest of the republic. The
weight of the universe is undoubtedly too great for the hands of a
feeble mortal. I am conscious of the limits of my abilities, and the
uncertainty of my life; and far from declining, I am anxious to solicit,
the assistance of a worthy colleague. But, where discord may be fatal,
the choice of a faithful friend requires mature and serious
deliberation. That deliberation shall be mycare. Let yourconduct be
dutiful and consistent. Retire to your quarters; refresh your minds and
bodies; and expect the accustomed donative on the accession of a new
emperor."  The astonished troops, with a mixture of pride, of
satisfaction, and of terror, confessed the voice of their master. Their
angry clamors subsided into silent reverence; and Valentinian,
encompassed with the eagles of the legions, and the various banners of
the cavalry and infantry, was conducted, in warlike pomp, to the palace
of Nice. As he was sensible, however, of the importance of preventing
some rash declaration of the soldiers, he consulted the assembly of the
chiefs; and their real sentiments were concisely expressed by the
generous freedom of Dagalaiphus. "Most excellent prince," said that
officer, "if you consider only your family, you have a brother; if you
love the republic, look round for the most deserving of the Romans."
The emperor, who suppressed his displeasure, without altering his
intention, slowly proceeded from Nice to Nicomedia and Constantinople.
In one of the suburbs of that capital,  thirty days after his own
elevation, he bestowed the title of Augustus on his brother Valens; *
and as the boldest patriots were convinced, that their opposition,
without being serviceable to their country, would be fatal to
themselves, the declaration of his absolute will was received with
silent submission. Valens was now in the thirty-sixth year of his age;
but his abilities had never been exercised in any employment, military
or civil; and his character had not inspired the world with any sanguine
expectations. He possessed, however, one quality, which recommended him
to Valentinian, and preserved the domestic peace of the empire; devout
and grateful attachment to his benefactor, whose superiority of genius,
as well as of authority, Valens humbly and cheerfully acknowledged in
every action of his life.

Chapter XXV: Reigns Of Jovian And Valentinian, Division Of The Empire.
-- Part II.

Before Valentinian divided the provinces, he reformed the administration
of the empire. All ranks of subjects, who had been injured or oppressed
under the reign of Julian, were invited to support their public
accusations. The silence of mankind attested the spotless integrity of
the præfect Sallust;  and his own pressing solicitations, that he might
be permitted to retire from the business of the state, were rejected by
Valentinian with the most honorable expressions of friendship and
esteem. But among the favorites of the late emperor, there were many who
had abused his credulity or superstition; and who could no longer hope
to be protected either by favor or justice.  The greater part of the
ministers of the palace, and the governors of the provinces, were
removed from their respective stations; yet the eminent merit of some
officers was distinguished from the obnoxious crowd; and,
notwithstanding the opposite clamors of zeal and resentment, the whole
proceedings of this delicate inquiry appear to have been conducted with
a reasonable share of wisdom and moderation.  The festivity of a new
reign received a short and suspicious interruption from the sudden
illness of the two princes; but as soon as their health was restored,
they left Constantinople in the beginning of the spring. In the castle,
or palace, of Mediana, only three miles from Naissus, they executed the
solemn and final division of the Roman empire.  Valentinian bestowed on
his brother the rich præfecture of the East, from the Lower Danube to
the confines of Persia; whilst he reserved for his immediate government
the warlike * præfectures of Illyricum, Italy, and Gaul, from the
extremity of Greece to the Caledonian rampart, and from the rampart of
Caledonia to the foot of Mount Atlas. The provincial administration
remained on its former basis; but a double supply of generals and
magistrates was required for two councils, and two courts: the division
was made with a just regard to their peculiar merit and situation, and
seven master-generals were soon created, either of the cavalry or
infantry. When this important business had been amicably transacted,
Valentinian and Valens embraced for the last time. The emperor of the
West established his temporary residence at Milan; and the emperor of
the East returned to Constantinople, to assume the dominion of fifty
provinces, of whose language he was totally ignorant.

The tranquility of the East was soon disturbed by rebellion; and the
throne of Valens was threatened by the daring attempts of a rival whose
affinity to the emperor Julian  was his sole merit, and had been his
only crime. Procopius had been hastily promoted from the obscure station
of a tribune, and a notary, to the joint command of the army of
Mesopotamia; the public opinion already named him as the successor of a
prince who was destitute of natural heirs; and a vain rumor was
propagated by his friends, or his enemies, that Julian, before the altar
of the Moon at Carrhæ, had privately invested Procopius with the
Imperial purple.  He endeavored, by his dutiful and submissive behavior,
to disarm the jealousy of Jovian; resigned, without a contest, his
military command; and retired, with his wife and family, to cultivate
the ample patrimony which he possessed in the province of Cappadocia.
These useful and innocent occupations were interrupted by the appearance
of an officer with a band of soldiers, who, in the name of his new
sovereigns, Valentinian and Valens, was despatched to conduct the
unfortunate Procopius either to a perpetual prison or an ignominious
death. His presence of mind procured him a longer respite, and a more
splendid fate. Without presuming to dispute the royal mandate, he
requested the indulgence of a few moments to embrace his weeping family;
and while the vigilance of his guards was relaxed by a plentiful
entertainment, he dexterously escaped to the sea-coast of the Euxine,
from whence he passed over to the country of Bosphorus. In that
sequestered region he remained many months, exposed to the hardships of
exile, of solitude, and of want; his melancholy temper brooding over his
misfortunes, and his mind agitated by the just apprehension, that, if
any accident should discover his name, the faithless Barbarians would
violate, without much scruple, the laws of hospitality. In a moment of
impatience and despair, Procopius embarked in a merchant vessel, which
made sail for Constantinople; and boldly aspired to the rank of a
sovereign, because he was not allowed to enjoy the security of a
subject. At first he lurked in the villages of Bithynia, continually
changing his habitation and his disguise.  By degrees he ventured into
the capital, trusted his life and fortune to the fidelity of two
friends, a senator and a eunuch, and conceived some hopes of success,
from the intelligence which he obtained of the actual state of public
affairs. The body of the people was infected with a spirit of
discontent: they regretted the justice and the abilities of Sallust, who
had been imprudently dismissed from the præfecture of the East. They
despised the character of Valens, which was rude without vigor, and
feeble without mildness. They dreaded the influence of his
father-in-law, the patrician Petronius, a cruel and rapacious minister,
who rigorously exacted all the arrears of tribute that might remain
unpaid since the reign of the emperor Aurelian. The circumstances were
propitious to the designs of a usurper. The hostile measures of the
Persians required the presence of Valens in Syria: from the Danube to
the Euphrates the troops were in motion; and the capital was
occasionally filled with the soldiers who passed or repassed the
Thracian Bosphorus. Two cohorts of Gaul were persuaded to listen to the
secret proposals of the conspirators; which were recommended by the
promise of a liberal donative; and, as they still revered the memory of
Julian, they easily consented to support the hereditary claim of his
proscribed kinsman. At the dawn of day they were drawn up near the baths
of Anastasia; and Procopius, clothed in a purple garment, more suitable
to a player than to a monarch, appeared, as if he rose from the dead, in
the midst of Constantinople. The soldiers, who were prepared for his
reception, saluted their trembling prince with shouts of joy and vows of
fidelity. Their numbers were soon increased by a band of sturdy
peasants, collected from the adjacent country; and Procopius, shielded
by the arms of his adherents, was successively conducted to the
tribunal, the senate, and the palace. During the first moments of his
tumultuous reign, he was astonished and terrified by the gloomy silence
of the people; who were either ignorant of the cause, or apprehensive of
the event. But his military strength was superior to any actual
resistance: the malecontents flocked to the standard of rebellion; the
poor were excited by the hopes, and the rich were intimidated by the
fear, of a general pillage; and the obstinate credulity of the multitude
was once more deceived by the promised advantages of a revolution. The
magistrates were seized; the prisons and arsenals broke open; the gates,
and the entrance of the harbor, were diligently occupied; and, in a few
hours, Procopius became the absolute, though precarious, master of the
Imperial city. * The usurper improved this unexpected success with some
degree of courage and dexterity. He artfully propagated the rumors and
opinions the most favorable to his interest; while he deluded the
populace by giving audience to the frequent, but imaginary, ambassadors
of distant nations. The large bodies of troops stationed in the cities
of Thrace and the fortresses of the Lower Danube, were gradually
involved in the guilt of rebellion: and the Gothic princes consented to
supply the sovereign of Constantinople with the formidable strength of
several thousand auxiliaries. His generals passed the Bosphorus, and
subdued, without an effort, the unarmed, but wealthy provinces of
Bithynia and Asia. After an honorable defence, the city and island of
Cyzicus yielded to his power; the renowned legions of the Jovians and
Herculians embraced the cause of the usurper, whom they were ordered to
crush; and, as the veterans were continually augmented with new levies,
he soon appeared at the head of an army, whose valor, as well as
numbers, were not unequal to the greatness of the contest. The son of
Hormisdas,  a youth of spirit and ability, condescended to draw his
sword against the lawful emperor of the East; and the Persian prince was
immediately invested with the ancient and extraordinary powers of a
Roman Proconsul. The alliance of Faustina, the widow of the emperor
Constantius, who intrusted herself and her daughter to the hands of the
usurper, added dignity and reputation to his cause. The princess
Constantia, who was then about five years of age, accompanied, in a
litter, the march of the army. She was shown to the multitude in the
arms of her adopted father; and, as often as she passed through the
ranks, the tenderness of the soldiers was inflamed into martial fury:
they recollected the glories of the house of Constantine, and they
declared, with loyal acclamation, that they would shed the last drop of
their blood in the defence of the royal infant.

In the mean while Valentinian was alarmed and perplexed by the doubtful
intelligence of the revolt of the East. * The difficulties of a German
was forced him to confine his immediate care to the safety of his own
dominions; and, as every channel of communication was stopped or
corrupted, he listened, with doubtful anxiety, to the rumors which were
industriously spread, that the defeat and death of Valens had left
Procopius sole master of the Eastern provinces. Valens was not dead: but
on the news of the rebellion, which he received at Cæsarea, he basely
despaired of his life and fortune; proposed to negotiate with the
usurper, and discovered his secret inclination to abdicate the Imperial
purple. The timid monarch was saved from disgrace and ruin by the
firmness of his ministers, and their abilities soon decided in his favor
the event of the civil war. In a season of tranquillity, Sallust had
resigned without a murmur; but as soon as the public safety was
attacked, he ambitiously solicited the preeminence of toil and danger;
and the restoration of that virtuous minister to the præfecture of the
East, was the first step which indicated the repentance of Valens, and
satisfied the minds of the people. The reign of Procopius was apparently
supported by powerful armies and obedient provinces. But many of the
principal officers, military as well as civil, had been urged, either by
motives of duty or interest, to withdraw themselves from the guilty
scene; or to watch the moment of betraying, and deserting, the cause of
the usurper. Lupicinus advanced by hasty marches, to bring the legions
of Syria to the aid of Valens. Arintheus, who, in strength, beauty, and
valor, excelled all the heroes of the age, attacked with a small troop a
superior body of the rebels. When he beheld the faces of the soldiers
who had served under his banner, he commanded them, with a loud voice,
to seize and deliver up their pretended leader; and such was the
ascendant of his genius, that this extraordinary order was instantly
obeyed.  Arbetio, a respectable veteran of the great Constantine, who
had been distinguished by the honors of the consulship, was persuaded to
leave his retirement, and once more to conduct an army into the field.
In the heat of action, calmly taking off his helmet, he showed his gray
hairs and venerable countenance: saluted the soldiers of Procopius by
the endearing names of children and companions, and exhorted them no
longer to support the desperate cause of a contemptible tyrant; but to
follow their old commander, who had so often led them to honor and
victory. In the two engagements of Thyatira  and Nacolia, the
unfortunate Procopius was deserted by his troops, who were seduced by
the instructions and example of their perfidious officers. After
wandering some time among the woods and mountains of Phrygia, he was
betrayed by his desponding followers, conducted to the Imperial camp,
and immediately beheaded. He suffered the ordinary fate of an
unsuccessful usurper; but the acts of cruelty which were exercised by
the conqueror, under the forms of legal justice, excited the pity and
indignation of mankind.

Such indeed are the common and natural fruits of despotism and
rebellion. But the inquisition into the crime of magic,  which, under
the reign of the two brothers, was so rigorously prosecuted both at Rome
and Antioch, was interpreted as the fatal symptom, either of the
displeasure of Heaven, or of the depravity of mankind.  Let us not
hesitate to indulge a liberal pride, that, in the present age, the
enlightened part of Europe has abolished  a cruel and odious prejudice,
which reigned in every climate of the globe, and adhered to every system
of religious opinions.  The nations, and the sects, of the Roman world,
admitted with equal credulity, and similar abhorrence, the reality of
that infernal art,  which was able to control the eternal order of the
planets, and the voluntary operations of the human mind. They dreaded
the mysterious power of spells and incantations, of potent herbs, and
execrable rites; which could extinguish or recall life, inflame the
passions of the soul, blast the works of creation, and extort from the
reluctant dæmons the secrets of futurity. They believed, with the
wildest inconsistency, that this preternatural dominion of the air, of
earth, and of hell, was exercised, from the vilest motives of malice or
gain, by some wrinkled hags and itinerant sorcerers, who passed their
obscure lives in penury and contempt.  The arts of magic were equally
condemned by the public opinion, and by the laws of Rome; but as they
tended to gratify the most imperious passions of the heart of man, they
were continually proscribed, and continually practised.  An imaginary
cause as capable of producing the most serious and mischievous effects.
The dark predictions of the death of an emperor, or the success of a
conspiracy, were calculated only to stimulate the hopes of ambition, and
to dissolve the ties of fidelity; and the intentional guilt of magic was
aggravated by the actual crimes of treason and sacrilege.  Such vain
terrors disturbed the peace of society, and the happiness of
individuals; and the harmless flame which insensibly melted a waxen
image, might derive a powerful and pernicious energy from the affrighted
fancy of the person whom it was maliciously designed to represent.  From
the infusion of those herbs, which were supposed to possess a
supernatural influence, it was an easy step to the use of more
substantial poison; and the folly of mankind sometimes became the
instrument, and the mask, of the most atrocious crimes. As soon as the
zeal of informers was encouraged by the ministers of Valens and
Valentinian, they could not refuse to listen to another charge, too
frequently mingled in the scenes of domestic guilt; a charge of a softer
and less malignant nature, for which the pious, though excessive, rigor
of Constantine had recently decreed the punishment of death.  This
deadly and incoherent mixture of treason and magic, of poison and
adultery, afforded infinite gradations of guilt and innocence, of excuse
and aggravation, which in these proceedings appear to have been
confounded by the angry or corrupt passions of the judges. They easily
discovered that the degree of their industry and discernment was
estimated, by the Imperial court, according to the number of executions
that were furnished from the respective tribunals. It was not without
extreme reluctance that they pronounced a sentence of acquittal; but
they eagerly admitted such evidence as was stained with perjury, or
procured by torture, to prove the most improbable charges against the
most respectable characters. The progress of the inquiry continually
opened new subjects of criminal prosecution; the audacious informer,
whose falsehood was detected, retired with impunity; but the wretched
victim, who discovered his real or pretended accomplices, were seldom
permitted to receive the price of his infamy. From the extremity of
Italy and Asia, the young, and the aged, were dragged in chains to the
tribunals of Rome and Antioch. Senators, matrons, and philosophers,
expired in ignominious and cruel tortures. The soldiers, who were
appointed to guard the prisons, declared, with a murmur of pity and
indignation, that their numbers were insufficient to oppose the flight,
or resistance, of the multitude of captives. The wealthiest families
were ruined by fines and confiscations; the most innocent citizens
trembled for their safety; and we may form some notion of the magnitude
of the evil, from the extravagant assertion of an ancient writer, that,
in the obnoxious provinces, the prisoners, the exiles, and the
fugitives, formed the greatest part of the inhabitants.

When Tacitus describes the deaths of the innocent and illustrious
Romans, who were sacrificed to the cruelty of the first Cæsars, the art
of the historian, or the merit of the sufferers, excites in our breast
the most lively sensations of terror, of admiration, and of pity. The
coarse and undistinguishing pencil of Ammianus has delineated his bloody
figures with tedious and disgusting accuracy. But as our attention is no
longer engaged by the contrast of freedom and servitude, of recent
greatness and of actual misery, we should turn with horror from the
frequent executions, which disgraced, both at Rome and Antioch, the
reign of the two brothers.  Valens was of a timid,  and Valentinian of a
choleric, disposition.  An anxious regard to his personal safety was the
ruling principle of the administration of Valens. In the condition of a
subject, he had kissed, with trembling awe, the hand of the oppressor;
and when he ascended the throne, he reasonably expected, that the same
fears, which had subdued his own mind, would secure the patient
submission of his people. The favorites of Valens obtained, by the
privilege of rapine and confiscation, the wealth which his economy would
have refused.  They urged, with persuasive eloquence, that, in all cases
of treason, suspicion is equivalent to proof; thatthe power supposes the
intention, of mischief; thatthe intention is not less criminal than the
act; and thata subject no longer deserves to live, if his life may
threaten the safety, or disturb the repose, of his sovereign. The
judgment of Valentinian was sometimes deceived, and his confidence
abused; but he would have silenced the informers with a contemptuous
smile, had they presumed to alarm his fortitude by the sound of danger.
They praised his inflexible love of justice; and, in the pursuit of
justice, the emperor was easily tempted to consider clemency as a
weakness, and passion as a virtue. As long as he wrestled with his
equals, in the bold competition of an active and ambitious life,
Valentinian was seldom injured, and never insulted, with impunity: if
his prudence was arraigned, his spirit was applauded; and the proudest
and most powerful generals were apprehensive of provoking the resentment
of a fearless soldier. After he became master of the world, he
unfortunately forgot, that where no resistance can be made, no courage
can be exerted; and instead of consulting the dictates of reason and
magnanimity, he indulged the furious emotions of his temper, at a time
when they were disgraceful to himself, and fatal to the defenceless
objects of his displeasure. In the government of his household, or of
his empire, slight, or even imaginary, offences -- a hasty word, a
casual omission, an involuntary delay -- were chastised by a sentence of
immediate death. The expressions which issued the most readily from the
mouth of the emperor of the West were, "Strike off his head;" "Burn him
alive;" "Let him be beaten with clubs till he expires;"  and his most
favored ministers soon understood, that, by a rash attempt to dispute,
or suspend, the execution of his sanguinary commands, they might involve
themselves in the guilt and punishment of disobedience. The repeated
gratification of this savage justice hardened the mind of Valentinian
against pity and remorse; and the sallies of passion were confirmed by
the habits of cruelty.  He could behold with calm satisfaction the
convulsive agonies of torture and death; he reserved his friendship for
those faithful servants whose temper was the most congenial to his own.
The merit of Maximin, who had slaughtered the noblest families of Rome,
was rewarded with the royal approbation, and the præfecture of Gaul. Two
fierce and enormous bears, distinguished by the appellations of
Innocence, and Mica Aurea, could alone deserve to share the favor of
Maximin. The cages of those trusty guards were always placed near the
bed-chamber of Valentinian, who frequently amused his eyes with the
grateful spectacle of seeing them tear and devour the bleeding limbs of
the malefactors who were abandoned to their rage. Their diet and
exercises were carefully inspected by the Roman emperor; and when
Innocencehad earned her discharge, by a long course of meritorious
service, the faithful animal was again restored to the freedom of her
native woods.

Chapter XXV: Reigns Of Jovian And Valentinian, Division Of The Empire.
-- Part III.

But in the calmer moments of reflection, when the mind of Valens was not
agitated by fear, or that of Valentinian by rage, the tyrant resumed the
sentiments, or at least the conduct, of the father of his country. The
dispassionate judgment of the Western emperor could clearly perceive,
and accurately pursue, his own and the public interest; and the
sovereign of the East, who imitated with equal docility the various
examples which he received from his elder brother, was sometimes guided
by the wisdom and virtue of the præfect Sallust. Both princes invariably
retained, in the purple, the chaste and temperate simplicity which had
adorned their private life; and, under their reign, the pleasures of the
court never cost the people a blush or a sigh. They gradually reformed
many of the abuses of the times of Constantius; judiciously adopted and
improved the designs of Julian and his successor; and displayed a style
and spirit of legislation which might inspire posterity with the most
favorable opinion of their character and government. It is not from the
master of Innocence, that we should expect the tender regard for the
welfare of his subjects, which prompted Valentinian to condemn the
exposition of new-born infants;  and to establish fourteen skilful
physicians, with stipends and privileges, in the fourteen quarters of
Rome. The good sense of an illiterate soldier founded a useful and
liberal institution for the education of youth, and the support of
declining science.  It was his intention, that the arts of rhetoric and
grammar should be taught in the Greek and Latin languages, in the
metropolis of every province; and as the size and dignity of the school
was usually proportioned to the importance of the city, the academies of
Rome and Constantinople claimed a just and singular preeminence. The
fragments of the literary edicts of Valentinian imperfectly represent
the school of Constantinople, which was gradually improved by subsequent
regulations. That school consisted of thirty-one professors in different
branches of learning. One philosopher, and two lawyers; five sophists,
and ten grammarians for the Greek, and three orators, and ten
grammarians for the Latin tongue; besides seven scribes, or, as they
were then styled, antiquarians, whose laborious pens supplied the public
library with fair and correct copies of the classic writers. The rule of
conduct, which was prescribed to the students, is the more curious, as
it affords the first outlines of the form and discipline of a modern
university. It was required, that they should bring proper certificates
from the magistrates of their native province. Their names, professions,
and places of abode, were regularly entered in a public register. The
studious youth were severely prohibited from wasting their time in
feasts, or in the theatre; and the term of their education was limited
to the age of twenty. The præfect of the city was empowered to chastise
the idle and refractory by stripes or expulsion; and he was directed to
make an annual report to the master of the offices, that the knowledge
and abilities of the scholars might be usefully applied to the public
service. The institutions of Valentinian contributed to secure the
benefits of peace and plenty; and the cities were guarded by the
establishment of the Defensors;  freely elected as the tribunes and
advocates of the people, to support their rights, and to expose their
grievances, before the tribunals of the civil magistrates, or even at
the foot of the Imperial throne. The finances were diligently
administered by two princes, who had been so long accustomed to the
rigid economy of a private fortune; but in the receipt and application
of the revenue, a discerning eye might observe some difference between
the government of the East and of the West. Valens was persuaded, that
royal liberality can be supplied only by public oppression, and his
ambition never aspired to secure, by their actual distress, the future
strength and prosperity of his people. Instead of increasing the weight
of taxes, which, in the space of forty years, had been gradually
doubled, he reduced, in the first years of his reign, one fourth of the
tribute of the East.  Valentinian appears to have been less attentive
and less anxious to relieve the burdens of his people. He might reform
the abuses of the fiscal administration; but he exacted, without
scruple, a very large share of the private property; as he was
convinced, that the revenues, which supported the luxury of individuals,
would be much more advantageously employed for the defence and
improvement of the state. The subjects of the East, who enjoyed the
present benefit, applauded the indulgence of their prince. The solid but
less splendid, merit of Valentinian was felt and acknowledged by the
subsequent generation.

But the most honorable circumstance of the character of Valentinian, is
the firm and temperate impartiality which he uniformly preserved in an
age of religious contention. His strong sense, unenlightened, but
uncorrupted, by study, declined, with respectful indifference, the
subtle questions of theological debate. The government of the
Earthclaimed his vigilance, and satisfied his ambition; and while he
remembered that he was the disciple of the church, he never forgot that
he was the sovereign of the clergy. Under the reign of an apostate, he
had signalized his zeal for the honor of Christianity: he allowed to his
subjects the privilege which he had assumed for himself; and they might
accept, with gratitude and confidence, the general toleration which was
granted by a prince addicted to passion, but incapable of fear or of
disguise.  The Pagans, the Jews, and all the various sects which
acknowledged the divine authority of Christ, were protected by the laws
from arbitrary power or popular insult; nor was any mode of worship
prohibited by Valentinian, except those secret and criminal practices,
which abused the name of religion for the dark purposes of vice and
disorder. The art of magic, as it was more cruelly punished, was more
strictly proscribed: but the emperor admitted a formal distinction to
protect the ancient methods of divination, which were approved by the
senate, and exercised by the Tuscan haruspices. He had condemned, with
the consent of the most rational Pagans, the license of nocturnal
sacrifices; but he immediately admitted the petition of Prætextatus,
proconsul of Achaia, who represented, that the life of the Greeks would
become dreary and comfortless, if they were deprived of the invaluable
blessing of the Eleusinian mysteries. Philosophy alone can boast, (and
perhaps it is no more than the boast of philosophy,) that her gentle
hand is able to eradicate from the human mind the latent and deadly
principle of fanaticism. But this truce of twelve years, which was
enforced by the wise and vigorous government of Valentinian, by
suspending the repetition of mutual injuries, contributed to soften the
manners, and abate the prejudices, of the religious factions.

The friend of toleration was unfortunately placed at a distance from the
scene of the fiercest controversies. As soon as the Christians of the
West had extricated themselves from the snares of the creed of Rimini,
they happily relapsed into the slumber of orthodoxy; and the small
remains of the Arian party, that still subsisted at Sirmium or Milan,
might be considered rather as objects of contempt than of resentment.
But in the provinces of the East, from the Euxine to the extremity of
Thebais, the strength and numbers of the hostile factions were more
equally balanced; and this equality, instead of recommending the
counsels of peace, served only to perpetuate the horrors of religious
war. The monks and bishops supported their arguments by invectives; and
their invectives were sometimes followed by blows. Athanasius still
reigned at Alexandria; the thrones of Constantinople and Antioch were
occupied by Arian prelates, and every episcopal vacancy was the occasion
of a popular tumult. The Homoousians were fortified by the
reconciliation of fifty-nine Macedonian, or Semi-Arian, bishops; but
their secret reluctance to embrace the divinity of the Holy Ghost,
clouded the splendor of the triumph; and the declaration of Valens, who,
in the first years of his reign, had imitated the impartial conduct of
his brother, was an important victory on the side of Arianism. The two
brothers had passed their private life in the condition of catechumens;
but the piety of Valens prompted him to solicit the sacrament of
baptism, before he exposed his person to the dangers of a Gothic war. He
naturally addressed himself to Eudoxus,  * bishop of the Imperial city;
and if the ignorant monarch was instructed by that Arian pastor in the
principles of heterodox theology, his misfortune, rather than his guilt,
was the inevitable consequence of his erroneous choice. Whatever had
been the determination of the emperor, he must have offended a numerous
party of his Christian subjects; as the leaders both of the Homoousians
and of the Arians believed, that, if they were not suffered to reign,
they were most cruelly injured and oppressed. After he had taken this
decisive step, it was extremely difficult for him to preserve either the
virtue, or the reputation of impartiality. He never aspired, like
Constantius, to the fame of a profound theologian; but as he had
received with simplicity and respect the tenets of Eudoxus, Valens
resigned his conscience to the direction of his ecclesiastical guides,
and promoted, by the influence of his authority, the reunion of the
Athanasian hereticsto the body of the Catholic church. At first, he
pitied their blindness; by degrees he was provoked at their obstinacy;
and he insensibly hated those sectaries to whom he was an object of
hatred.  The feeble mind of Valens was always swayed by the persons with
whom he familiarly conversed; and the exile or imprisonment of a private
citizen are the favors the most readily granted in a despotic court.
Such punishments were frequently inflicted on the leaders of the
Homoousian party; and the misfortune of fourscore ecclesiastics of
Constantinople, who, perhaps accidentally, were burned on shipboard, was
imputed to the cruel and premeditated malice of the emperor, and his
Arian ministers. In every contest, the Catholics (if we may anticipate
that name) were obliged to pay the penalty of their own faults, and of
those of their adversaries. In every election, the claims of the Arian
candidate obtained the preference; and if they were opposed by the
majority of the people, he was usually supported by the authority of the
civil magistrate, or even by the terrors of a military force. The
enemies of Athanasius attempted to disturb the last years of his
venerable age; and his temporary retreat to his father's sepulchre has
been celebrated as a fifth exile. But the zeal of a great people, who
instantly flew to arms, intimidated the præfect: and the archbishop was
permitted to end his life in peace and in glory, after a reign of
forty-seven years. The death of Athanasius was the signal of the
persecution of Egypt; and the Pagan minister of Valens, who forcibly
seated the worthless Lucius on the archiepiscopal throne, purchased the
favor of the reigning party, by the blood and sufferings of their
Christian brethren. The free toleration of the heathen and Jewish
worship was bitterly lamented, as a circumstance which aggravated the
misery of the Catholics, and the guilt of the impious tyrant of the
East.

The triumph of the orthodox party has left a deep stain of persecution
on the memory of Valens; and the character of a prince who derived his
virtues, as well as his vices, from a feeble understanding and a
pusillanimous temper, scarcely deserves the labor of an apology. Yet
candor may discover some reasons to suspect that the ecclesiastical
ministers of Valens often exceeded the orders, or even the intentions,
of their master; and that the real measure of facts has been very
liberally magnified by the vehement declamation and easy credulity of
his antagonists.  1. The silence of Valentinian may suggest a probable
argument that the partial severities, which were exercised in the name
and provinces of his colleague, amounted only to some obscure and
inconsiderable deviations from the established system of religious
toleration: and the judicious historian, who has praised the equal
temper of the elder brother, has not thought himself obliged to contrast
the tranquillity of the West with the cruel persecution of the East.  2.
Whatever credit may be allowed to vague and distant reports, the
character, or at least the behavior, of Valens, may be most distinctly
seen in his personal transactions with the eloquent Basil, archbishop of
Cæsarea, who had succeeded Athanasius in the management of the
Trinitarian cause.  The circumstantial narrative has been composed by
the friends and admirers of Basil; and as soon as we have stripped away
a thick coat of rhetoric and miracle, we shall be astonished by the
unexpected mildness of the Arian tyrant, who admired the firmness of his
character, or was apprehensive, if he employed violence, of a general
revolt in the province of Cappadocia. The archbishop, who asserted, with
inflexible pride,  the truth of his opinions, and the dignity of his
rank, was left in the free possession of his conscience and his throne.
The emperor devoutly assisted at the solemn service of the cathedral;
and, instead of a sentence of banishment, subscribed the donation of a
valuable estate for the use of a hospital, which Basil had lately
founded in the neighborhood of Cæsarea.  3. I am not able to discover,
that any law (such as Theodosius afterwards enacted against the Arians)
was published by Valens against the Athanasian sectaries; and the edict
which excited the most violent clamors, may not appear so extremely
reprehensible. The emperor had observed, that several of his subjects,
gratifying their lazy disposition under the pretence of religion, had
associated themselves with the monks of Egypt; and he directed the count
of the East to drag them from their solitude; and to compel these
deserters of society to accept the fair alternative of renouncing their
temporal possessions, or of discharging the public duties of men and
citizens.  The ministers of Valens seem to have extended the sense of
this penal statute, since they claimed a right of enlisting the young
and able-bodied monks in the Imperial armies. A detachment of cavalry
and infantry, consisting of three thousand men, marched from Alexandria
into the adjacent desert of Nitria,  which was peopled by five thousand
monks. The soldiers were conducted by Arian priests; and it is reported,
that a considerable slaughter was made in the monasteries which
disobeyed the commands of their sovereign.

The strict regulations which have been framed by the wisdom of modern
legislators to restrain the wealth and avarice of the clergy, may be
originally deduced from the example of the emperor Valentinian. His
edict,  addressed to Damasus, bishop of Rome, was publicly read in the
churches of the city. He admonished the ecclesiastics and monks not to
frequent the houses of widows and virgins; and menaced their
disobedience with the animadversion of the civil judge. The director was
no longer permitted to receive any gift, or legacy, or inheritance, from
the liberality of his spiritual-daughter: every testament contrary to
this edict was declared null and void; and the illegal donation was
confiscated for the use of the treasury. By a subsequent regulation, it
should seem, that the same provisions were extended to nuns and bishops;
and that all persons of the ecclesiastical order were rendered incapable
of receiving any testamentary gifts, and strictly confined to the
natural and legal rights of inheritance. As the guardian of domestic
happiness and virtue, Valentinian applied this severe remedy to the
growing evil. In the capital of the empire, the females of noble and
opulent houses possessed a very ample share of independent property: and
many of those devout females had embraced the doctrines of Christianity,
not only with the cold assent of the understanding, but with the warmth
of affection, and perhaps with the eagerness of fashion. They sacrificed
the pleasures of dress and luxury; and renounced, for the praise of
chastity, the soft endearments of conjugal society. Some ecclesiastic,
of real or apparent sanctity, was chosen to direct their timorous
conscience, and to amuse the vacant tenderness of their heart: and the
unbounded confidence, which they hastily bestowed, was often abused by
knaves and enthusiasts; who hastened from the extremities of the East,
to enjoy, on a splendid theatre, the privileges of the monastic
profession. By their contempt of the world, they insensibly acquired its
most desirable advantages; the lively attachment, perhaps of a young and
beautiful woman, the delicate plenty of an opulent household, and the
respectful homage of the slaves, the freedmen, and the clients of a
senatorial family. The immense fortunes of the Roman ladies were
gradually consumed in lavish alms and expensive pilgrimages; and the
artful monk, who had assigned himself the first, or possibly the sole
place, in the testament of his spiritual daughter, still presumed to
declare, with the smooth face of hypocrisy, that hewas only the
instrument of charity, and the steward of the poor. The lucrative, but
disgraceful, trade,  which was exercised by the clergy to defraud the
expectations of the natural heirs, had provoked the indignation of a
superstitious age: and two of the most respectable of the Latin fathers
very honestly confess, that the ignominious edict of Valentinian was
just and necessary; and that the Christian priests had deserved to lose
a privilege, which was still enjoyed by comedians, charioteers, and the
ministers of idols. But the wisdom and authority of the legislator are
seldom victorious in a contest with the vigilant dexterity of private
interest; and Jerom, or Ambrose, might patiently acquiesce in the
justice of an ineffectual or salutary law. If the ecclesiastics were
checked in the pursuit of personal emolument, they would exert a more
laudable industry to increase the wealth of the church; and dignify
their covetousness with the specious names of piety and patriotism.

Damasus, bishop of Rome, who was constrained to stigmatize the avarice
of his clergy by the publication of the law of Valentinian, had the good
sense, or the good fortune, to engage in his service the zeal and
abilities of the learned Jerom; and the grateful saint has celebrated
the merit and purity of a very ambiguous character.  But the splendid
vices of the church of Rome, under the reign of Valentinian and Damasus,
have been curiously observed by the historian Ammianus, who delivers his
impartial sense in these expressive words: "The præfecture of Juventius
was accompanied with peace and plenty, but the tranquillity of his
government was soon disturbed by a bloody sedition of the distracted
people. The ardor of Damasus and Ursinus, to seize the episcopal seat,
surpassed the ordinary measure of human ambition. They contended with
the rage of party; the quarrel was maintained by the wounds and death of
their followers; and the præfect, unable to resist or appease the
tumult, was constrained, by superior violence, to retire into the
suburbs. Damasus prevailed: the well-disputed victory remained on the
side of his faction; one hundred and thirty-seven dead bodies  were
found in the Basilicaof Sicininus,  where the Christians hold their
religious assemblies; and it was long before the angry minds of the
people resumed their accustomed tranquillity. When I consider the
splendor of the capital, I am not astonished that so valuable a prize
should inflame the desires of ambitious men, and produce the fiercest
and most obstinate contests. The successful candidate is secure, that he
will be enriched by the offerings of matrons;  that, as soon as his
dress is composed with becoming care and elegance, he may proceed, in
his chariot, through the streets of Rome;  and that the sumptuousness of
the Imperial table will not equal the profuse and delicate
entertainments provided by the taste, and at the expense, of the Roman
pontiffs. How much more rationally (continues the honest Pagan) would
those pontiffs consult their true happiness, if, instead of alleging the
greatness of the city as an excuse for their manners, they would imitate
the exemplary life of some provincial bishops, whose temperance and
sobriety, whose mean apparel and downcast looks, recommend their pure
and modest virtue to the Deity and his true worshippers!"  The schism of
Damasus and Ursinus was extinguished by the exile of the latter; and the
wisdom of the præfect Prætextatus  restored the tranquillity of the
city. Prætextatus was a philosophic Pagan, a man of learning, of taste,
and politeness; who disguised a reproach in the form of a jest, when he
assured Damasus, that if he could obtain the bishopric of Rome, he
himself would immediately embrace the Christian religion.  This lively
picture of the wealth and luxury of the popes in the fourth century
becomes the more curious, as it represents the intermediate degree
between the humble poverty of the apostolic fishermen, and the royal
state of a temporal prince, whose dominions extend from the confines of
Naples to the banks of the Po.

Chapter XXV: Reigns Of Jovian And Valentinian, Division Of The Empire.
-- Part IV.

When the suffrage of the generals and of the army committed the sceptre
of the Roman empire to the hands of Valentinian, his reputation in arms,
his military skill and experience, and his rigid attachment to the
forms, as well as spirit, of ancient discipline, were the principal
motives of their judicious choice. The eagerness of the troops, who
pressed him to nominate his colleague, was justified by the dangerous
situation of public affairs; and Valentinian himself was conscious, that
the abilities of the most active mind were unequal to the defence of the
distant frontiers of an invaded monarchy. As soon as the death of Julian
had relieved the Barbarians from the terror of his name, the most
sanguine hopes of rapine and conquest excited the nations of the East,
of the North, and of the South. Their inroads were often vexatious, and
sometimes formidable; but, during the twelve years of the reign of
Valentinian, his firmness and vigilance protected his own dominions; and
his powerful genius seemed to inspire and direct the feeble counsels of
his brother. Perhaps the method of annals would more forcibly express
the urgent and divided cares of the two emperors; but the attention of
the reader, likewise, would be distracted by a tedious and desultory
narrative. A separate view of the five great theatres of war; I.
Germany; II. Britain; III. Africa; IV. The East; and, V. The Danube;
will impress a more distinct image of the military state of the empire
under the reigns of Valentinian and Valens.

I. The ambassadors of the Alemanni had been offended by the harsh and
haughty behavior of Ursacius, master of the offices;  who by an act of
unseasonable parsimony, had diminished the value, as well as the
quantity, of the presents to which they were entitled, either from
custom or treaty, on the accession of a new emperor. They expressed, and
they communicated to their countrymen, their strong sense of the
national affront. The irascible minds of the chiefs were exasperated by
the suspicion of contempt; and the martial youth crowded to their
standard. Before Valentinian could pass the Alps, the villages of Gaul
were in flames; before his general Degalaiphus could encounter the
Alemanni, they had secured the captives and the spoil in the forests of
Germany. In the beginning of the ensuing year, the military force of the
whole nation, in deep and solid columns, broke through the barrier of
the Rhine, during the severity of a northern winter. Two Roman counts
were defeated and mortally wounded; and the standard of the Heruli and
Batavians fell into the hands of the Heruli and Batavians fell into the
hands of the conquerors, who displayed, with insulting shouts and
menaces, the trophy of their victory. The standard was recovered; but
the Batavians had not redeemed the shame of their disgrace and flight in
the eyes of their severe judge. It was the opinion of Valentinian, that
his soldiers must learn to fear their commander, before they could cease
to fear the enemy. The troops were solemnly assembled; and the trembling
Batavians were enclosed within the circle of the Imperial army.
Valentinian then ascended his tribunal; and, as if he disdained to
punish cowardice with death, he inflicted a stain of indelible ignominy
on the officers, whose misconduct and pusillanimity were found to be the
first occasion of the defeat. The Batavians were degraded from their
rank, stripped of their arms, and condemned to be sold for slaves to the
highest bidder. At this tremendous sentence, the troops fell prostrate
on the ground, deprecated the indignation of their sovereign, and
protested, that, if he would indulge them in another trial, they would
approve themselves not unworthy of the name of Romans, and of his
soldiers. Valentinian, with affected reluctance, yielded to their
entreaties; the Batavians resumed their arms, and with their arms, the
invincible resolution of wiping away their disgrace in the blood of the
Alemanni.  The principal command was declined by Dagalaiphus; and that
experienced general, who had represented, perhaps with too much
prudence, the extreme difficulties of the undertaking, had the
mortification, before the end of the campaign, of seeing his rival
Jovinus convert those difficulties into a decisive advantage over the
scattered forces of the Barbarians. At the head of a well-disciplined
army of cavalry, infantry, and light troops, Jovinus advanced, with
cautious and rapid steps, to Scarponna,  * in the territory of Metz,
where he surprised a large division of the Alemanni, before they had
time to run to their arms; and flushed his soldiers with the confidence
of an easy and bloodless victory. Another division, or rather army, of
the enemy, after the cruel and wanton devastation of the adjacent
country, reposed themselves on the shady banks of the Moselle. Jovinus,
who had viewed the ground with the eye of a general, made a silent
approach through a deep and woody vale, till he could distinctly
perceive the indolent security of the Germans. Some were bathing their
huge limbs in the river; others were combing their long and flaxen hair;
others again were swallowing large draughts of rich and delicious wine.
On a sudden they heard the sound of the Roman trumpet; they saw the
enemy in their camp. Astonishment produced disorder; disorder was
followed by flight and dismay; and the confused multitude of the bravest
warriors was pierced by the swords and javelins of the legionaries and
auxiliaries. The fugitives escaped to the third, and most considerable,
camp, in the Catalonian plains, near Chalons in Champagne: the
straggling detachments were hastily recalled to their standard; and the
Barbarian chiefs, alarmed and admonished by the fate of their
companions, prepared to encounter, in a decisive battle, the victorious
forces of the lieutenant of Valentinian. The bloody and obstinate
conflict lasted a whole summer's day, with equal valor, and with
alternate success. The Romans at length prevailed, with the loss of
about twelve hundred men. Six thousand of the Alemanni were slain, four
thousand were wounded; and the brave Jovinus, after chasing the flying
remnant of their host as far as the banks of the Rhine, returned to
Paris, to receive the applause of his sovereign, and the ensigns of the
consulship for the ensuing year.  The triumph of the Romans was indeed
sullied by their treatment of the captive king, whom they hung on a
gibbet, without the knowledge of their indignant general. This
disgraceful act of cruelty, which might be imputed to the fury of the
troops, was followed by the deliberate murder of Withicab, the son of
Vadomair; a German prince, of a weak and sickly constitution, but of a
daring and formidable spirit. The domestic assassin was instigated and
protected by the Romans;  and the violation of the laws of humanity and
justice betrayed their secret apprehension of the weakness of the
declining empire. The use of the dagger is seldom adopted in public
councils, as long as they retain any confidence in the power of the
sword.

While the Alemanni appeared to be humbled by their recent calamities,
the pride of Valentinian was mortified by the unexpected surprisal of
Moguntiacum, or Mentz, the principal city of the Upper Germany. In the
unsuspicious moment of a Christian festival, * Rando, a bold and artful
chieftain, who had long meditated his attempt, suddenly passed the
Rhine; entered the defenceless town, and retired with a multitude of
captives of either sex. Valentinian resolved to execute severe vengeance
on the whole body of the nation. Count Sebastian, with the bands of
Italy and Illyricum, was ordered to invade their country, most probably
on the side of Rhætia. The emperor in person, accompanied by his son
Gratian, passed the Rhine at the head of a formidable army, which was
supported on both flanks by Jovinus and Severus, the two masters-general
of the cavalry and infantry of the West. The Alemanni, unable to prevent
the devastation of their villages, fixed their camp on a lofty, and
almost inaccessible, mountain, in the modern duchy of Wirtemberg, and
resolutely expected the approach of the Romans. The life of Valentinian
was exposed to imminent danger by the intrepid curiosity with which he
persisted to explore some secret and unguarded path. A troop of
Barbarians suddenly rose from their ambuscade: and the emperor, who
vigorously spurred his horse down a steep and slippery descent, was
obliged to leave behind him his armor-bearer, and his helmet,
magnificently enriched with gold and precious stones. At the signal of
the general assault, the Roman troops encompassed and ascended the
mountain of Solicinium on three different sides.  Every step which they
gained, increased their ardor, and abated the resistance of the enemy:
and after their united forces had occupied the summit of the hill, they
impetuously urged the Barbarians down the northern descent, where Count
Sebastian was posted to intercept their retreat. After this signal
victory, Valentinian returned to his winter quarters at Treves; where he
indulged the public joy by the exhibition of splendid and triumphal
games.  But the wise monarch, instead of aspiring to the conquest of
Germany, confined his attention to the important and laborious defence
of the Gallic frontier, against an enemy whose strength was renewed by a
stream of daring volunteers, which incessantly flowed from the most
distant tribes of the North.  The banks of the Rhine  from its source to
the straits of the ocean, were closely planted with strong castles and
convenient towers; new works, and new arms, were invented by the
ingenuity of a prince who was skilled in the mechanical arts; and his
numerous levies of Roman and Barbarian youth were severely trained in
all the exercises of war. The progress of the work, which was sometimes
opposed by modest representations, and sometimes by hostile attempts,
secured the tranquillity of Gaul during the nine subsequent years of the
administration of Valentinian.

That prudent emperor, who diligently practised the wise maxims of
Diocletian, was studious to foment and excite the intestine divisions of
the tribes of Germany. About the middle of the fourth century, the
countries, perhaps of Lusace and Thuringia, on either side of the Elbe,
were occupied by the vague dominion of the Burgundians; a warlike and
numerous people, * of the Vandal race,  whose obscure name insensibly
swelled into a powerful kingdom, and has finally settled on a
flourishing province. The most remarkable circumstance in the ancient
manners of the Burgundians appears to have been the difference of their
civil and ecclesiastical constitution. The appellation of Hendinoswas
given to the king or general, and the title of Sinistusto the high
priest, of the nation. The person of the priest was sacred, and his
dignity perpetual; but the temporal government was held by a very
precarious tenure. If the events of war accuses the courage or conduct
of the king, he was immediately deposed; and the injustice of his
subjects made him responsible for the fertility of the earth, and the
regularity of the seasons, which seemed to fall more properly within the
sacerdotal department.  The disputed possession of some salt-pits
engaged the Alemanni and the Burgundians in frequent contests: the
latter were easily tempted, by the secret solicitations and liberal
offers of the emperor; and their fabulous descent from the Roman
soldiers, who had formerly been left to garrison the fortresses of
Drusus, was admitted with mutual credulity, as it was conducive to
mutual interest.  An army of fourscore thousand Burgundians soon
appeared on the banks of the Rhine; and impatiently required the support
and subsidies which Valentinian had promised: but they were amused with
excuses and delays, till at length, after a fruitless expectation, they
were compelled to retire. The arms and fortifications of the Gallic
frontier checked the fury of their just resentment; and their massacre
of the captives served to imbitter the hereditary feud of the
Burgundians and the Alemanni. The inconstancy of a wise prince may,
perhaps, be explained by some alteration of circumstances; and perhaps
it was the original design of Valentinian to intimidate, rather than to
destroy; as the balance of power would have been equally overturned by
the extirpation of either of the German nations. Among the princes of
the Alemanni, Macrianus, who, with a Roman name, had assumed the arts of
a soldier and a statesman, deserved his hatred and esteem. The emperor
himself, with a light and unencumbered band, condescended to pass the
Rhine, marched fifty miles into the country, and would infallibly have
seized the object of his pursuit, if his judicious measures had not been
defeated by the impatience of the troops. Macrianus was afterwards
admitted to the honor of a personal conference with the emperor; and the
favors which he received, fixed him, till the hour of his death, a
steady and sincere friend of the republic.

The land was covered by the fortifications of Valentinian; but the
sea-coast of Gaul and Britain was exposed to the depredations of the
Saxons. That celebrated name, in which we have a dear and domestic
interest, escaped the notice of Tacitus; and in the maps of Ptolemy, it
faintly marks the narrow neck of the Cimbric peninsula, and three small
islands towards the mouth of the Elbe.  This contracted territory, the
present duchy of Sleswig, or perhaps of Holstein, was incapable of
pouring forth the inexhaustible swarms of Saxons who reigned over the
ocean, who filled the British island with their language, their laws,
and their colonies; and who so long defended the liberty of the North
against the arms of Charlemagne.  The solution of this difficulty is
easily derived from the similar manners, and loose constitution, of the
tribes of Germany; which were blended with each other by the slightest
accidents of war or friendship. The situation of the native Saxons
disposed them to embrace the hazardous professions of fishermen and
pirates; and the success of their first adventures would naturally
excite the emulation of their bravest countrymen, who were impatient of
the gloomy solitude of their woods and mountains. Every tide might float
down the Elbe whole fleets of canoes, filled with hardy and intrepid
associates, who aspired to behold the unbounded prospect of the ocean,
and to taste the wealth and luxury of unknown worlds. It should seem
probable, however, that the most numerous auxiliaries of the Saxons were
furnished by the nations who dwelt along the shores of the Baltic. They
possessed arms and ships, the art of navigation, and the habits of naval
war; but the difficulty of issuing through the northern columns of
Hercules  (which, during several months of the year, are obstructed with
ice) confined their skill and courage within the limits of a spacious
lake. The rumor of the successful armaments which sailed from the mouth
of the Elbe, would soon provoke them to cross the narrow isthmus of
Sleswig, and to launch their vessels on the great sea. The various
troops of pirates and adventurers, who fought under the same standard,
were insensibly united in a permanent society, at first of rapine, and
afterwards of government. A military confederation was gradually moulded
into a national body, by the gentle operation of marriage and
consanguinity; and the adjacent tribes, who solicited the alliance,
accepted the name and laws, of the Saxons. If the fact were not
established by the most unquestionable evidence, we should appear to
abuse the credulity of our readers, by the description of the vessels in
which the Saxon pirates ventured to sport in the waves of the German
Ocean, the British Channel, and the Bay of Biscay. The keel of their
large flat-bottomed boats were framed of light timber, but the sides and
upper works consisted only of wicker, with a covering of strong hides.
In the course of their slow and distant navigations, they must always
have been exposed to the danger, and very frequently to the misfortune,
of shipwreck; and the naval annals of the Saxons were undoubtedly filled
with the accounts of the losses which they sustained on the coasts of
Britain and Gaul. But the daring spirit of the pirates braved the perils
both of the sea and of the shore: their skill was confirmed by the
habits of enterprise; the meanest of their mariners was alike capable of
handling an oar, of rearing a sail, or of conducting a vessel, and the
Saxons rejoiced in the appearance of a tempest, which concealed their
design, and dispersed the fleets of the enemy.  After they had acquired
an accurate knowledge of the maritime provinces of the West, they
extended the scene of their depredations, and the most sequestered
places had no reason to presume on their security. The Saxon boats drew
so little water that they could easily proceed fourscore or a hundred
miles up the great rivers; their weight was so inconsiderable, that they
were transported on wagons from one river to another; and the pirates
who had entered the mouth of the Seine, or of the Rhine, might descend,
with the rapid stream of the Rhone, into the Mediterranean. Under the
reign of Valentinian, the maritime provinces of Gaul were afflicted by
the Saxons: a military count was stationed for the defence of the
sea-coast, or Armorican limit; and that officer, who found his strength,
or his abilities, unequal to the task, implored the assistance of
Severus, master-general of the infantry. The Saxons, surrounded and
outnumbered, were forced to relinquish their spoil, and to yield a
select band of their tall and robust youth to serve in the Imperial
armies. They stipulated only a safe and honorable retreat; and the
condition was readily granted by the Roman general, who meditated an act
of perfidy,  imprudent as it was inhuman, while a Saxon remained alive,
and in arms, to revenge the fate of their countrymen. The premature
eagerness of the infantry, who were secretly posted in a deep valley,
betrayed the ambuscade; and they would perhaps have fallen the victims
of their own treachery, if a large body of cuirassiers, alarmed by the
noise of the combat, had not hastily advanced to extricate their
companions, and to overwhelm the undaunted valor of the Saxons. Some of
the prisoners were saved from the edge of the sword, to shed their blood
in the amphitheatre; and the orator Symmachus complains, that
twenty-nine of those desperate savages, by strangling themselves with
their own hands, had disappointed the amusement of the public. Yet the
polite and philosophic citizens of Rome were impressed with the deepest
horror, when they were informed, that the Saxons consecrated to the gods
the tithe of their humanspoil; and that they ascertained by lot the
objects of the barbarous sacrifice.

II. The fabulous colonies of Egyptians and Trojans, of Scandinavians and
Spaniards, which flattered the pride, and amused the credulity, of our
rude ancestors, have insensibly vanished in the light of science and
philosophy.  The present age is satisfied with the simple and rational
opinion, that the islands of Great Britain and Ireland were gradually
peopled from the adjacent continent of Gaul. From the coast of Kent, to
the extremity of Caithness and Ulster, the memory of a Celtic origin was
distinctly preserved, in the perpetual resemblance of language, of
religion, and of manners; and the peculiar characters of the British
tribes might be naturally ascribed to the influence of accidental and
local circumstances.  The Roman Province was reduced to the state of
civilized and peaceful servitude; the rights of savage freedom were
contracted to the narrow limits of Caledonia. The inhabitants of that
northern region were divided, as early as the reign of Constantine,
between the two great tribes of the Scots and of the Picts,  who have
since experienced a very different fortune. The power, and almost the
memory, of the Picts have been extinguished by their successful rivals;
and the Scots, after maintaining for ages the dignity of an independent
kingdom, have multiplied, by an equal and voluntary union, the honors of
the English name. The hand of nature had contributed to mark the ancient
distinctions of the Scots and Picts. The former were the men of the
hills, and the latter those of the plain. The eastern coast of Caledonia
may be considered as a level and fertile country, which, even in a rude
state of tillage, was capable of producing a considerable quantity of
corn; and the epithet of cruitnich, or wheat-eaters, expressed the
contempt or envy of the carnivorous highlander. The cultivation of the
earth might introduce a more accurate separation of property, and the
habits of a sedentary life; but the love of arms and rapine was still
the ruling passion of the Picts; and their warriors, who stripped
themselves for a day of battle, were distinguished, in the eyes of the
Romans, by the strange fashion of painting their naked bodies with gaudy
colors and fantastic figures. The western part of Caledonia irregularly
rises into wild and barren hills, which scarcely repay the toil of the
husbandman, and are most profitably used for the pasture of cattle. The
highlanders were condemned to the occupations of shepherds and hunters;
and, as they seldom were fixed to any permanent habitation, they
acquired the expressive name of Scots, which, in the Celtic tongue, is
said to be equivalent to that of wanderers, or vagrants. The inhabitants
of a barren land were urged to seek a fresh supply of food in the
waters. The deep lakes and bays which intersect their country, are
plentifully supplied with fish; and they gradually ventured to cast
their nets in the waves of the ocean. The vicinity of the Hebrides, so
profusely scattered along the western coast of Scotland, tempted their
curiosity, and improved their skill; and they acquired, by slow degrees,
the art, or rather the habit, of managing their boats in a tempestuous
sea, and of steering their nocturnal course by the light of the
well-known stars. The two bold headlands of Caledonia almost touch the
shores of a spacious island, which obtained, from its luxuriant
vegetation, the epithet of Green; and has preserved, with a slight
alteration, the name of Erin, or Ierne, or Ireland. It is probable, that
in some remote period of antiquity, the fertile plains of Ulster
received a colony of hungry Scots; and that the strangers of the North,
who had dared to encounter the arms of the legions, spread their
conquests over the savage and unwarlike natives of a solitary island. It
is certain, that, in the declining age of the Roman empire, Caledonia,
Ireland, and the Isle of Man, were inhabited by the Scots, and that the
kindred tribes, who were often associated in military enterprise, were
deeply affected by the various accidents of their mutual fortunes. They
long cherished the lively tradition of their common name and origin; and
the missionaries of the Isle of Saints, who diffused the light of
Christianity over North Britain, established the vain opinion, that
their Irish countrymen were the natural, as well as spiritual, fathers
of the Scottish race. The loose and obscure tradition has been preserved
by the venerable Bede, who scattered some rays of light over the
darkness of the eighth century. On this slight foundation, a huge
superstructure of fable was gradually reared, by the bards and the
monks; two orders of men, who equally abused the privilege of fiction.
The Scottish nation, with mistaken pride, adopted their Irish genealogy;
and the annals of a long line of imaginary kings have been adorned by
the fancy of Boethius, and the classic elegance of Buchanan.

Chapter XXV: Reigns Of Jovian And Valentinian, Division Of The Empire.
-- Part V.

Six years after the death of Constantine, the destructive inroads of the
Scots and Picts required the presence of his youngest son, who reigned
in the Western empire. Constans visited his British dominions: but we
may form some estimate of the importance of his achievements, by the
language of panegyric, which celebrates only his triumph over the
elements or, in other words, the good fortune of a safe and easy passage
from the port of Boulogne to the harbor of Sandwich.  The calamities
which the afflicted provincials continued to experience, from foreign
war and domestic tyranny, were aggravated by the feeble and corrupt
administration of the eunuchs of Constantius; and the transient relief
which they might obtain from the virtues of Julian, was soon lost by the
absence and death of their benefactor. The sums of gold and silver,
which had been painfully collected, or liberally transmitted, for the
payment of the troops, were intercepted by the avarice of the
commanders; discharges, or, at least, exemptions, from the military
service, were publicly sold; the distress of the soldiers, who were
injuriously deprived of their legal and scanty subsistence, provoked
them to frequent desertion; the nerves of discipline were relaxed, and
the highways were infested with robbers.  The oppression of the good,
and the impunity of the wicked, equally contributed to diffuse through
the island a spirit of discontent and revolt; and every ambitious
subject, every desperate exile, might entertain a reasonable hope of
subverting the weak and distracted government of Britain. The hostile
tribes of the North, who detested the pride and power of the King of the
World, suspended their domestic feuds; and the Barbarians of the land
and sea, the Scots, the Picts, and the Saxons, spread themselves with
rapid and irresistible fury, from the wall of Antoninus to the shores of
Kent. Every production of art and nature, every object of convenience
and luxury, which they were incapable of creating by labor or procuring
by trade, was accumulated in the rich and fruitful province of Britain.
A philosopher may deplore the eternal discords of the human race, but he
will confess, that the desire of spoil is a more rational provocation
than the vanity of conquest. From the age of Constantine to the
Plantagenets, this rapacious spirit continued to instigate the poor and
hardy Caledonians; but the same people, whose generous humanity seems to
inspire the songs of Ossian, was disgraced by a savage ignorance of the
virtues of peace, and of the laws of war. Their southern neighbors have
felt, and perhaps exaggerated, the cruel depredations of the Scots and
Picts;  and a valiant tribe of Caledonia, the Attacotti,  the enemies,
and afterwards the soldiers, of Valentinian, are accused, by an
eye-witness, of delighting in the taste of human flesh. When they hunted
the woods for prey, it is said, that they attacked the shepherd rather
than his flock; and that they curiously selected the most delicate and
brawny parts, both of males and females, which they prepared for their
horrid repasts.  If, in the neighborhood of the commercial and literary
town of Glasgow, a race of cannibals has really existed, we may
contemplate, in the period of the Scottish history, the opposite
extremes of savage and civilized life. Such reflections tend to enlarge
the circle of our ideas; and to encourage the pleasing hope, that New
Zealand may produce, in some future age, the Hume of the Southern
Hemisphere.

Every messenger who escaped across the British Channel, conveyed the
most melancholy and alarming tidings to the ears of Valentinian; and the
emperor was soon informed that the two military commanders of the
province had been surprised and cut off by the Barbarians. Severus,
count of the domestics, was hastily despatched, and as suddenly
recalled, by the court of Treves. The representations of Jovinus served
only to indicate the greatness of the evil; and, after a long and
serious consultation, the defence, or rather the recovery, of Britain
was intrusted to the abilities of the brave Theodosius. The exploits of
that general, the father of a line of emperors, have been celebrated,
with peculiar complacency, by the writers of the age: but his real merit
deserved their applause; and his nomination was received, by the army
and province, as a sure presage of approaching victory. He seized the
favorable moment of navigation, and securely landed the numerous and
veteran bands of the Heruli and Batavians, the Jovians and the Victors.
In his march from Sandwich to London, Theodosius defeated several
parties of the Barbarians, released a multitude of captives, and, after
distributing to his soldiers a small portion of the spoil, established
the fame of disinterested justice, by the restitution of the remainder
to the rightful proprietors. The citizens of London, who had almost
despaired of their safety, threw open their gates; and as soon as
Theodosius had obtained from the court of Treves the important aid of a
military lieutenant, and a civil governor, he executed, with wisdom and
vigor, the laborious task of the deliverance of Britain. The vagrant
soldiers were recalled to their standard; an edict of amnesty dispelled
the public apprehensions; and his cheerful example alleviated the rigor
of martial discipline. The scattered and desultory warfare of the
Barbarians, who infested the land and sea, deprived him of the glory of
a signal victory; but the prudent spirit, and consummate art, of the
Roman general, were displayed in the operations of two campaigns, which
successively rescued every part of the province from the hands of a
cruel and rapacious enemy. The splendor of the cities, and the security
of the fortifications, were diligently restored, by the paternal care of
Theodosius; who with a strong hand confined the trembling Caledonians to
the northern angle of the island; and perpetuated, by the name and
settlement of the new province of Valentia, the glories of the reign of
Valentinian.  The voice of poetry and panegyric may add, perhaps with
some degree of truth, that the unknown regions of Thule were stained
with the blood of the Picts; that the oars of Theodosius dashed the
waves of the Hyperborean ocean; and that the distant Orkneys were the
scene of his naval victory over the Saxon pirates.  He left the province
with a fair, as well as splendid, reputation; and was immediately
promoted to the rank of master-general of the cavalry, by a prince who
could applaud, without envy, the merit of his servants. In the important
station of the Upper Danube, the conqueror of Britain checked and
defeated the armies of the Alemanni, before he was chosen to suppress
the revolt of Africa.

III. The prince who refuses to be the judge, instructs the people to
consider him as the accomplice, of his ministers. The military command
of Africa had been long exercised by Count Romanus, and his abilities
were not inadequate to his station; but, as sordid interest was the sole
motive of his conduct, he acted, on most occasions, as if he had been
the enemy of the province, and the friend of the Barbarians of the
desert. The three flourishing cities of Oea, Leptis, and Sabrata, which,
under the name of Tripoli, had long constituted a federal union,  were
obliged, for the first time, to shut their gates against a hostile
invasion; several of their most honorable citizens were surprised and
massacred; the villages, and even the suburbs, were pillaged; and the
vines and fruit trees of that rich territory were extirpated by the
malicious savages of Getulia. The unhappy provincials implored the
protection of Romanus; but they soon found that their military governor
was not less cruel and rapacious than the Barbarians. As they were
incapable of furnishing the four thousand camels, and the exorbitant
present, which he required, before he would march to the assistance of
Tripoli; his demand was equivalent to a refusal, and he might justly be
accused as the author of the public calamity. In the annual assembly of
the three cities, they nominated two deputies, to lay at the feet of
Valentinian the customary offering of a gold victory; and to accompany
this tribute of duty, rather than of gratitude, with their humble
complaint, that they were ruined by the enemy, and betrayed by their
governor. If the severity of Valentinian had been rightly directed, it
would have fallen on the guilty head of Romanus. But the count, long
exercised in the arts of corruption, had despatched a swift and trusty
messenger to secure the venal friendship of Remigius, master of the
offices. The wisdom of the Imperial council was deceived by artifice;
and their honest indignation was cooled by delay. At length, when the
repetition of complaint had been justified by the repetition of public
misfortunes, the notary Palladius was sent from the court of Treves, to
examine the state of Africa, and the conduct of Romanus. The rigid
impartiality of Palladius was easily disarmed: he was tempted to reserve
for himself a part of the public treasure, which he brought with him for
the payment of the troops; and from the moment that he was conscious of
his own guilt, he could no longer refuse to attest the innocence and
merit of the count. The charge of the Tripolitans was declared to be
false and frivolous; and Palladius himself was sent back from Treves to
Africa, with a special commission to discover and prosecute the authors
of this impious conspiracy against the representatives of the sovereign.
His inquiries were managed with so much dexterity and success, that he
compelled the citizens of Leptis, who had sustained a recent siege of
eight days, to contradict the truth of their own decrees, and to censure
the behavior of their own deputies. A bloody sentence was pronounced,
without hesitation, by the rash and headstrong cruelty of Valentinian.
The president of Tripoli, who had presumed to pity the distress of the
province, was publicly executed at Utica; four distinguished citizens
were put to death, as the accomplices of the imaginary fraud; and the
tongues of two others were cut out, by the express order of the emperor.
Romanus, elated by impunity, and irritated by resistance, was still
continued in the military command; till the Africans were provoked, by
his avarice, to join the rebellious standard of Firmus, the Moor.

His father Nabal was one of the richest and most powerful of the Moorish
princes, who acknowledged the supremacy of Rome. But as he left, either
by his wives or concubines, a very numerous posterity, the wealthy
inheritance was eagerly disputed; and Zamma, one of his sons, was slain
in a domestic quarrel by his brother Firmus. The implacable zeal, with
which Romanus prosecuted the legal revenge of this murder, could be
ascribed only to a motive of avarice, or personal hatred; but, on this
occasion, his claims were just; his influence was weighty; and Firmus
clearly understood, that he must either present his neck to the
executioner, or appeal from the sentence of the Imperial consistory, to
his sword, and to the people.  He was received as the deliverer of his
country; and, as soon as it appeared that Romanus was formidable only to
a submissive province, the tyrant of Africa became the object of
universal contempt. The ruin of Cæsarea, which was plundered and burnt
by the licentious Barbarians, convinced the refractory cities of the
danger of resistance; the power of Firmus was established, at least in
the provinces of Mauritania and Numidia; and it seemed to be his only
doubt whether he should assume the diadem of a Moorish king, or the
purple of a Roman emperor. But the imprudent and unhappy Africans soon
discovered, that, in this rash insurrection, they had not sufficiently
consulted their own strength, or the abilities of their leader. Before
he could procure any certain intelligence, that the emperor of the West
had fixed the choice of a general, or that a fleet of transports was
collected at the mouth of the Rhone, he was suddenly informed that the
great Theodosius, with a small band of veterans, had landed near
Igilgilis, or Gigeri, on the African coast; and the timid usurper sunk
under the ascendant of virtue and military genius. Though Firmus
possessed arms and treasures, his despair of victory immediately reduced
him to the use of those arts, which, in the same country, and in a
similar situation, had formerly been practised by the crafty Jugurtha.
He attempted to deceive, by an apparent submission, the vigilance of the
Roman general; to seduce the fidelity of his troops; and to protract the
duration of the war, by successively engaging the independent tribes of
Africa to espouse his quarrel, or to protect his flight. Theodosius
imitated the example, and obtained the success, of his predecessor
Metellus. When Firmus, in the character of a suppliant, accused his own
rashness, and humbly solicited the clemency of the emperor, the
lieutenant of Valentinian received and dismissed him with a friendly
embrace: but he diligently required the useful and substantial pledges
of a sincere repentance; nor could he be persuaded, by the assurances of
peace, to suspend, for an instant, the operations of an active war. A
dark conspiracy was detected by the penetration of Theodosius; and he
satisfied, without much reluctance, the public indignation, which he had
secretly excited. Several of the guilty accomplices of Firmus were
abandoned, according to ancient custom, to the tumult of a military
execution; many more, by the amputation of both their hands, continued
to exhibit an instructive spectacle of horror; the hatred of the rebels
was accompanied with fear; and the fear of the Roman soldiers was
mingled with respectful admiration. Amidst the boundless plains of
Getulia, and the innumerable valleys of Mount Atlas, it was impossible
to prevent the escape of Firmus; and if the usurper could have tired the
patience of his antagonist, he would have secured his person in the
depth of some remote solitude, and expected the hopes of a future
revolution. He was subdued by the perseverance of Theodosius; who had
formed an inflexible determination, that the war should end only by the
death of the tyrant; and that every nation of Africa, which presumed to
support his cause, should be involved in his ruin. At the head of a
small body of troops, which seldom exceeded three thousand five hundred
men, the Roman general advanced, with a steady prudence, devoid of
rashness or of fear, into the heart of a country, where he was sometimes
attacked by armies of twenty thousand Moors. The boldness of his charge
dismayed the irregular Barbarians; they were disconcerted by his
seasonable and orderly retreats; they were continually baffled by the
unknown resources of the military art; and they felt and confessed the
just superiority which was assumed by the leader of a civilized nation.
When Theodosius entered the extensive dominions of Igmazen, king of the
Isaflenses, the haughty savage required, in words of defiance, his name,
and the object of his expedition. "I am," replied the stern and
disdainful count, "I am the general of Valentinian, the lord of the
world; who has sent me hither to pursue and punish a desperate robber.
Deliver him instantly into my hands; and be assured, that if thou dost
not obey the commands of my invincible sovereign, thou, and the people
over whom thou reignest, shall be utterly extirpated." * As soon as
Igmazen was satisfied, that his enemy had strength and resolution to
execute the fatal menace, he consented to purchase a necessary peace by
the sacrifice of a guilty fugitive. The guards that were placed to
secure the person of Firmus deprived him of the hopes of escape; and the
Moorish tyrant, after wine had extinguished the sense of danger,
disappointed the insulting triumph of the Romans, by strangling himself
in the night. His dead body, the only present which Igmazen could offer
to the conqueror, was carelessly thrown upon a camel; and Theodosius,
leading back his victorious troops to Sitifi, was saluted by the warmest
acclamations of joy and loyalty.

Africa had been lost by the vices of Romanus; it was restored by the
virtues of Theodosius; and our curiosity may be usefully directed to the
inquiry of the respective treatment which the two generals received from
the Imperial court. The authority of Count Romanus had been suspended by
the master-general of the cavalry; and he was committed to safe and
honorable custody till the end of the war. His crimes were proved by the
most authentic evidence; and the public expected, with some impatience,
the decree of severe justice. But the partial and powerful favor of
Mellobaudes encouraged him to challenge his legal judges, to obtain
repeated delays for the purpose of procuring a crowd of friendly
witnesses, and, finally, to cover his guilty conduct, by the additional
guilt of fraud and forgery. About the same time, the restorer of Britain
and Africa, on a vague suspicion that his name and services were
superior to the rank of a subject, was ignominiously beheaded at
Carthage. Valentinian no longer reigned; and the death of Theodosius, as
well as the impunity of Romanus, may justly be imputed to the arts of
the ministers, who abused the confidence, and deceived the inexperienced
youth, of his sons.

If the geographical accuracy of Ammianus had been fortunately bestowed
on the British exploits of Theodosius, we should have traced, with eager
curiosity, the distinct and domestic footsteps of his march. But the
tedious enumeration of the unknown and uninteresting tribes of Africa
may be reduced to the general remark, that they were all of the swarthy
race of the Moors; that they inhabited the back settlements of the
Mauritanian and Numidian province, the country, as they have since been
termed by the Arabs, of dates and of locusts;  and that, as the Roman
power declined in Africa, the boundary of civilized manners and
cultivated land was insensibly contracted. Beyond the utmost limits of
the Moors, the vast and inhospitable desert of the South extends above a
thousand miles to the banks of the Niger. The ancients, who had a very
faint and imperfect knowledge of the great peninsula of Africa, were
sometimes tempted to believe, that the torrid zone must ever remain
destitute of inhabitants;  and they sometimes amused their fancy by
filling the vacant space with headless men, or rather monsters;  with
horned and cloven-footed satyrs;  with fabulous centaurs;  and with
human pygmies, who waged a bold and doubtful warfare against the cranes.
Carthage would have trembled at the strange intelligence that the
countries on either side of the equator were filled with innumerable
nations, who differed only in their color from the ordinary appearance
of the human species: and the subjects of the Roman empire might have
anxiously expected, that the swarms of Barbarians, which issued from the
North, would soon be encountered from the South by new swarms of
Barbarians, equally fierce and equally formidable. These gloomy terrors
would indeed have been dispelled by a more intimate acquaintance with
the character of their African enemies. The inaction of the negroes does
not seem to be the effect either of their virtue or of their
pusillanimity. They indulge, like the rest of mankind, their passions
and appetites; and the adjacent tribes are engaged in frequent acts of
hostility.  But their rude ignorance has never invented any effectual
weapons of defence, or of destruction; they appear incapable of forming
any extensive plans of government, or conquest; and the obvious
inferiority of their mental faculties has been discovered and abused by
the nations of the temperate zone. Sixty thousand blacks are annually
embarked from the coast of Guinea, never to return to their native
country; but they are embarked in chains;  and this constant emigration,
which, in the space of two centuries, might have furnished armies to
overrun the globe, accuses the guilt of Europe, and the weakness of
Africa.

Chapter XXV: Reigns Of Jovian And Valentinian, Division Of The Empire.
-- Part VI.

IV. The ignominious treaty, which saved the army of Jovian, had been
faithfully executed on the side of the Romans; and as they had solemnly
renounced the sovereignty and alliance of Armenia and Iberia, those
tributary kingdoms were exposed, without protection, to the arms of the
Persian monarch.  Sapor entered the Armenian territories at the head of
a formidable host of cuirassiers, of archers, and of mercenary foot; but
it was the invariable practice of Sapor to mix war and negotiation, and
to consider falsehood and perjury as the most powerful instruments of
regal policy. He affected to praise the prudent and moderate conduct of
the king of Armenia; and the unsuspicious Tiranus was persuaded, by the
repeated assurances of insidious friendship, to deliver his person into
the hands of a faithless and cruel enemy. In the midst of a splendid
entertainment, he was bound in chains of silver, as an honor due to the
blood of the Arsacides; and, after a short confinement in the Tower of
Oblivion at Ecbatana, he was released from the miseries of life, either
by his own dagger, or by that of an assassin. * The kingdom of Armenia
was reduced to the state of a Persian province; the administration was
shared between a distinguished satrap and a favorite eunuch; and Sapor
marched, without delay, to subdue the martial spirit of the Iberians.
Sauromaces, who reigned in that country by the permission of the
emperors, was expelled by a superior force; and, as an insult on the
majesty of Rome, the king of kings placed a diadem on the head of his
abject vassal Aspacuras. The city of Artogerassa  was the only place of
Armenia  which presumed to resist the efforts of his arms. The treasure
deposited in that strong fortress tempted the avarice of Sapor; but the
danger of Olympias, the wife or widow of the Armenian king, excited the
public compassion, and animated the desperate valor of her subjects and
soldiers. §The Persians were surprised and repulsed under the walls of
Artogerassa, by a bold and well-concerted sally of the besieged. But the
forces of Sapor were continually renewed and increased; the hopeless
courage of the garrison was exhausted; the strength of the walls yielded
to the assault; and the proud conqueror, after wasting the rebellious
city with fire and sword, led away captive an unfortunate queen; who, in
a more auspicious hour, had been the destined bride of the son of
Constantine.  Yet if Sapor already triumphed in the easy conquest of two
dependent kingdoms, he soon felt, that a country is unsubdued as long as
the minds of the people are actuated by a hostile and contumacious
spirit. The satraps, whom he was obliged to trust, embraced the first
opportunity of regaining the affection of their countrymen, and of
signalizing their immortal hatred to the Persian name. Since the
conversion of the Armenians and Iberians, these nations considered the
Christians as the favorites, and the Magians as the adversaries, of the
Supreme Being: the influence of the clergy, over a superstitious people
was uniformly exerted in the cause of Rome; and as long as the
successors of Constantine disputed with those of Artaxerxes the
sovereignty of the intermediate provinces, the religious connection
always threw a decisive advantage into the scale of the empire. A
numerous and active party acknowledged Para, the son of Tiranus, as the
lawful sovereign of Armenia, and his title to the throne was deeply
rooted in the hereditary succession of five hundred years. By the
unanimous consent of the Iberians, the country was equally divided
between the rival princes; and Aspacuras, who owed his diadem to the
choice of Sapor, was obliged to declare, that his regard for his
children, who were detained as hostages by the tyrant, was the only
consideration which prevented him from openly renouncing the alliance of
Persia. The emperor Valens, who respected the obligations of the treaty,
and who was apprehensive of involving the East in a dangerous war,
ventured, with slow and cautious measures, to support the Roman party in
the kingdoms of Iberia and Armenia. $ Twelve legions established the
authority of Sauromaces on the banks of the Cyrus. The Euphrates was
protected by the valor of Arintheus. A powerful army, under the command
of Count Trajan, and of Vadomair, king of the Alemanni, fixed their camp
on the confines of Armenia. But they were strictly enjoined not to
commit the first hostilities, which might be understood as a breach of
the treaty: and such was the implicit obedience of the Roman general,
that they retreated, with exemplary patience, under a shower of Persian
arrows till they had clearly acquired a just title to an honorable and
legitimate victory. Yet these appearances of war insensibly subsided in
a vain and tedious negotiation. The contending parties supported their
claims by mutual reproaches of perfidy and ambition; and it should seem,
that the original treaty was expressed in very obscure terms, since they
were reduced to the necessity of making their inconclusive appeal to the
partial testimony of the generals of the two nations, who had assisted
at the negotiations.  The invasion of the Goths and Huns which soon
afterwards shook the foundations of the Roman empire, exposed the
provinces of Asia to the arms of Sapor. But the declining age, and
perhaps the infirmities, of the monarch suggested new maxims of
tranquillity and moderation. His death, which happened in the full
maturity of a reign of seventy years, changed in a moment the court and
councils of Persia; and their attention was most probably engaged by
domestic troubles, and the distant efforts of a Carmanian war.  The
remembrance of ancient injuries was lost in the enjoyment of peace. The
kingdoms of Armenia and Iberia were permitted, by the mutual, though
tacit consent of both empires, to resume their doubtful neutrality. In
the first years of the reign of Theodosius, a Persian embassy arrived at
Constantinople, to excuse the unjustifiable measures of the former
reign; and to offer, as the tribute of friendship, or even of respect, a
splendid present of gems, of silk, and of Indian elephants.

In the general picture of the affairs of the East under the reign of
Valens, the adventures of Para form one of the most striking and
singular objects. The noble youth, by the persuasion of his mother
Olympias, had escaped through the Persian host that besieged
Artogerassa, and implored the protection of the emperor of the East. By
his timid councils, Para was alternately supported, and recalled, and
restored, and betrayed. The hopes of the Armenians were sometimes raised
by the presence of their natural sovereign, * and the ministers of
Valens were satisfied, that they preserved the integrity of the public
faith, if their vassal was not suffered to assume the diadem and title
of King. But they soon repented of their own rashness. They were
confounded by the reproaches and threats of the Persian monarch. They
found reason to distrust the cruel and inconstant temper of Para
himself; who sacrificed, to the slightest suspicions, the lives of his
most faithful servants, and held a secret and disgraceful correspondence
with the assassin of his father and the enemy of his country. Under the
specious pretence of consulting with the emperor on the subject of their
common interest, Para was persuaded to descend from the mountains of
Armenia, where his party was in arms, and to trust his independence and
safety to the discretion of a perfidious court. The king of Armenia, for
such he appeared in his own eyes and in those of his nation, was
received with due honors by the governors of the provinces through which
he passed; but when he arrived at Tarsus in Cilicia, his progress was
stopped under various pretences; his motions were watched with
respectful vigilance, and he gradually discovered, that he was a
prisoner in the hands of the Romans. Para suppressed his indignation,
dissembled his fears, and after secretly preparing his escape, mounted
on horseback with three hundred of his faithful followers. The officer
stationed at the door of his apartment immediately communicated his
flight to the consular of Cilicia, who overtook him in the suburbs, and
endeavored without success, to dissuade him from prosecuting his rash
and dangerous design. A legion was ordered to pursue the royal fugitive;
but the pursuit of infantry could not be very alarming to a body of
light cavalry; and upon the first cloud of arrows that was discharged
into the air, they retreated with precipitation to the gates of Tarsus.
After an incessant march of two days and two nights, Para and his
Armenians reached the banks of the Euphrates; but the passage of the
river which they were obliged to swim, * was attended with some delay
and some loss. The country was alarmed; and the two roads, which were
only separated by an interval of three miles had been occupied by a
thousand archers on horseback, under the command of a count and a
tribune. Para must have yielded to superior force, if the accidental
arrival of a friendly traveller had not revealed the danger and the
means of escape. A dark and almost impervious path securely conveyed the
Armenian troop through the thicket; and Para had left behind him the
count and the tribune, while they patiently expected his approach along
the public highways. They returned to the Imperial court to excuse their
want of diligence or success; and seriously alleged, that the king of
Armenia, who was a skilful magician, had transformed himself and his
followers, and passed before their eyes under a borrowed shape.  After
his return to his native kingdom, Para still continued to profess
himself the friend and ally of the Romans: but the Romans had injured
him too deeply ever to forgive, and the secret sentence of his death was
signed in the council of Valens. The execution of the bloody deed was
committed to the subtle prudence of Count Trajan; and he had the merit
of insinuating himself into the confidence of the credulous prince, that
he might find an opportunity of stabbing him to the heart Para was
invited to a Roman banquet, which had been prepared with all the pomp
and sensuality of the East; the hall resounded with cheerful music, and
the company was already heated with wine; when the count retired for an
instant, drew his sword, and gave the signal of the murder. A robust and
desperate Barbarian instantly rushed on the king of Armenia; and though
he bravely defended his life with the first weapon that chance offered
to his hand, the table of the Imperial general was stained with the
royal blood of a guest, and an ally. Such were the weak and wicked
maxims of the Roman administration, that, to attain a doubtful object of
political interest the laws of nations, and the sacred rights of
hospitality were inhumanly violated in the face of the world.

V. During a peaceful interval of thirty years, the Romans secured their
frontiers, and the Goths extended their dominions. The victories of the
great Hermanric,  king of the Ostrogoths, and the most noble of the race
of the Amali, have been compared, by the enthusiasm of his countrymen,
to the exploits of Alexander; with this singular, and almost incredible,
difference, that the martial spirit of the Gothic hero, instead of being
supported by the vigor of youth, was displayed with glory and success in
the extreme period of human life, between the age of fourscore and one
hundred and ten years. The independent tribes were persuaded, or
compelled, to acknowledge the king of the Ostrogoths as the sovereign of
the Gothic nation: the chiefs of the Visigoths, or Thervingi, renounced
the royal title, and assumed the more humble appellation of Judges; and,
among those judges, Athanaric, Fritigern, and Alavivus, were the most
illustrious, by their personal merit, as well as by their vicinity to
the Roman provinces. These domestic conquests, which increased the
military power of Hermanric, enlarged his ambitious designs. He invaded
the adjacent countries of the North; and twelve considerable nations,
whose names and limits cannot be accurately defined, successively
yielded to the superiority of the Gothic arms  The Heruli, who inhabited
the marshy lands near the lake Mæotis, were renowned for their strength
and agility; and the assistance of their light infantry was eagerly
solicited, and highly esteemed, in all the wars of the Barbarians. But
the active spirit of the Heruli was subdued by the slow and steady
perseverance of the Goths; and, after a bloody action, in which the king
was slain, the remains of that warlike tribe became a useful accession
to the camp of Hermanric. He then marched against the Venedi; unskilled
in the use of arms, and formidable only by their numbers, which filled
the wide extent of the plains of modern Poland. The victorious Goths,
who were not inferior in numbers, prevailed in the contest, by the
decisive advantages of exercise and discipline. After the submission of
the Venedi, the conqueror advanced, without resistance, as far as the
confines of the Æstii;  an ancient people, whose name is still preserved
in the province of Esthonia. Those distant inhabitants of the Baltic
coast were supported by the labors of agriculture, enriched by the trade
of amber, and consecrated by the peculiar worship of the Mother of the
Gods. But the scarcity of iron obliged the Æstian warriors to content
themselves with wooden clubs; and the reduction of that wealthy country
is ascribed to the prudence, rather than to the arms, of Hermanric. His
dominions, which extended from the Danube to the Baltic, included the
native seats, and the recent acquisitions, of the Goths; and he reigned
over the greatest part of Germany and Scythia with the authority of a
conqueror, and sometimes with the cruelty of a tyrant. But he reigned
over a part of the globe incapable of perpetuating and adorning the
glory of its heroes. The name of Hermanric is almost buried in oblivion;
his exploits are imperfectly known; and the Romans themselves appeared
unconscious of the progress of an aspiring power which threatened the
liberty of the North, and the peace of the empire.

The Goths had contracted an hereditary attachment for the Imperial house
of Constantine, of whose power and liberality they had received so many
signal proofs. They respected the public peace; and if a hostile band
sometimes presumed to pass the Roman limit, their irregular conduct was
candidly ascribed to the ungovernable spirit of the Barbarian youth.
Their contempt for two new and obscure princes, who had been raised to
the throne by a popular election, inspired the Goths with bolder hopes;
and, while they agitated some design of marching their confederate force
under the national standard,  they were easily tempted to embrace the
party of Procopius; and to foment, by their dangerous aid, the civil
discord of the Romans. The public treaty might stipulate no more than
ten thousand auxiliaries; but the design was so zealously adopted by the
chiefs of the Visigoths, that the army which passed the Danube amounted
to the number of thirty thousand men.  They marched with the proud
confidence, that their invincible valor would decide the fate of the
Roman empire; and the provinces of Thrace groaned under the weight of
the Barbarians, who displayed the insolence of masters and the
licentiousness of enemies. But the intemperance which gratified their
appetites, retarded their progress; and before the Goths could receive
any certain intelligence of the defeat and death of Procopius, they
perceived, by the hostile state of the country, that the civil and
military powers were resumed by his successful rival. A chain of posts
and fortifications, skilfully disposed by Valens, or the generals of
Valens, resisted their march, prevented their retreat, and intercepted
their subsistence. The fierceness of the Barbarians was tamed and
suspended by hunger; they indignantly threw down their arms at the feet
of the conqueror, who offered them food and chains: the numerous
captives were distributed in all the cities of the East; and the
provincials, who were soon familiarized with their savage appearance,
ventured, by degrees, to measure their own strength with these
formidable adversaries, whose name had so long been the object of their
terror. The king of Scythia (and Hermanric alone could deserve so lofty
a title) was grieved and exasperated by this national calamity. His
ambassadors loudly complained, at the court of Valens, of the infraction
of the ancient and solemn alliance, which had so long subsisted between
the Romans and the Goths. They alleged, that they had fulfilled the duty
of allies, by assisting the kinsman and successor of the emperor Julian;
they required the immediate restitution of the noble captives; and they
urged a very singular claim, that the Gothic generals marching in arms,
and in hostile array, were entitled to the sacred character and
privileges of ambassadors. The decent, but peremptory, refusal of these
extravagant demands, was signified to the Barbarians by Victor,
master-general of the cavalry; who expressed, with force and dignity,
the just complaints of the emperor of the East.  The negotiation was
interrupted; and the manly exhortations of Valentinian encouraged his
timid brother to vindicate the insulted majesty of the empire.

The splendor and magnitude of this Gothic war are celebrated by a
contemporary historian:  but the events scarcely deserve the attention
of posterity, except as the preliminary steps of the approaching decline
and fall of the empire. Instead of leading the nations of Germany and
Scythia to the banks of the Danube, or even to the gates of
Constantinople, the aged monarch of the Goths resigned to the brave
Athanaric the danger and glory of a defensive war, against an enemy, who
wielded with a feeble hand the powers of a mighty state. A bridge of
boats was established upon the Danube; the presence of Valens animated
his troops; and his ignorance of the art of war was compensated by
personal bravery, and a wise deference to the advice of Victor and
Arintheus, his masters-general of the cavalry and infantry. The
operations of the campaign were conducted by their skill and experience;
but they found it impossible to drive the Visigoths from their strong
posts in the mountains; and the devastation of the plains obliged the
Romans themselves to repass the Danube on the approach of winter. The
incessant rains, which swelled the waters of the river, produced a tacit
suspension of arms, and confined the emperor Valens, during the whole
course of the ensuing summer, to his camp of Marcianopolis. The third
year of the war was more favorable to the Romans, and more pernicious to
the Goths. The interruption of trade deprived the Barbarians of the
objects of luxury, which they already confounded with the necessaries of
life; and the desolation of a very extensive tract of country threatened
them with the horrors of famine. Athanaric was provoked, or compelled,
to risk a battle, which he lost, in the plains; and the pursuit was
rendered more bloody by the cruel precaution of the victorious generals,
who had promised a large reward for the head of every Goth that was
brought into the Imperial camp. The submission of the Barbarians
appeased the resentment of Valens and his council: the emperor listened
with satisfaction to the flattering and eloquent remonstrance of the
senate of Constantinople, which assumed, for the first time, a share in
the public deliberations; and the same generals, Victor and Arintheus,
who had successfully directed the conduct of the war, were empowered to
regulate the conditions of peace. The freedom of trade, which the Goths
had hitherto enjoyed, was restricted to two cities on the Danube; the
rashness of their leaders was severely punished by the suppression of
their pensions and subsidies; and the exception, which was stipulated in
favor of Athanaric alone, was more advantageous than honorable to the
Judge of the Visigoths. Athanaric, who, on this occasion, appears to
have consulted his private interest, without expecting the orders of his
sovereign, supported his own dignity, and that of his tribe, in the
personal interview which was proposed by the ministers of Valens. He
persisted in his declaration, that it was impossible for him, without
incurring the guilt of perjury, ever to set his foot on the territory of
the empire; and it is more than probable, that his regard for the
sanctity of an oath was confirmed by the recent and fatal examples of
Roman treachery. The Danube, which separated the dominions of the two
independent nations, was chosen for the scene of the conference. The
emperor of the East, and the Judge of the Visigoths, accompanied by an
equal number of armed followers, advanced in their respective barges to
the middle of the stream. After the ratification of the treaty, and the
delivery of hostages, Valens returned in triumph to Constantinople; and
the Goths remained in a state of tranquillity about six years; till they
were violently impelled against the Roman empire by an innumerable host
of Scythians, who appeared to issue from the frozen regions of the
North.

The emperor of the West, who had resigned to his brother the command of
the Lower Danube, reserved for his immediate care the defence of the
Rhætian and Illyrian provinces, which spread so many hundred miles along
the greatest of the European rivers. The active policy of Valentinian
was continually employed in adding new fortifications to the security of
the frontier: but the abuse of this policy provoked the just resentment
of the Barbarians. The Quadi complained, that the ground for an intended
fortress had been marked out on their territories; and their complaints
were urged with so much reason and moderation, that Equitius,
master-general of Illyricum, consented to suspend the prosecution of the
work, till he should be more clearly informed of the will of his
sovereign. This fair occasion of injuring a rival, and of advancing the
fortune of his son, was eagerly embraced by the inhuman Maximin, the
præfect, or rather tyrant, of Gaul. The passions of Valentinian were
impatient of control; and he credulously listened to the assurances of
his favorite, that if the government of Valeria, and the direction of
the work, were intrusted to the zeal of his son Marcellinus, the emperor
should no longer be importuned with the audacious remonstrances of the
Barbarians. The subjects of Rome, and the natives of Germany, were
insulted by the arrogance of a young and worthless minister, who
considered his rapid elevation as the proof and reward of his superior
merit. He affected, however, to receive the modest application of
Gabinius, king of the Quadi, with some attention and regard: but this
artful civility concealed a dark and bloody design, and the credulous
prince was persuaded to accept the pressing invitation of Marcellinus. I
am at a loss how to vary the narrative of similar crimes; or how to
relate, that, in the course of the same year, but in remote parts of the
empire, the inhospitable table of two Imperial generals was stained with
the royal blood of two guests and allies, inhumanly murdered by their
order, and in their presence. The fate of Gabinius, and of Para, was the
same: but the cruel death of their sovereign was resented in a very
different manner by the servile temper of the Armenians, and the free
and daring spirit of the Germans. The Quadi were much declined from that
formidable power, which, in the time of Marcus Antoninus, had spread
terror to the gates of Rome. But they still possessed arms and courage;
their courage was animated by despair, and they obtained the usual
reenforcement of the cavalry of their Sarmatian allies. So improvident
was the assassin Marcellinus, that he chose the moment when the bravest
veterans had been drawn away, to suppress the revolt of Firmus; and the
whole province was exposed, with a very feeble defence, to the rage of
the exasperated Barbarians. They invaded Pannonia in the season of
harvest; unmercifully destroyed every object of plunder which they could
not easily transport; and either disregarded, or demolished, the empty
fortifications. The princess Constantia, the daughter of the emperor
Constantius, and the granddaughter of the great Constantine, very
narrowly escaped. That royal maid, who had innocently supported the
revolt of Procopius, was now the destined wife of the heir of the
Western empire. She traversed the peaceful province with a splendid and
unarmed train. Her person was saved from danger, and the republic from
disgrace, by the active zeal of Messala, governor of the provinces. As
soon as he was informed that the village, where she stopped only to
dine, was almost encompassed by the Barbarians, he hastily placed her in
his own chariot, and drove full speed till he reached the gates of
Sirmium, which were at the distance of six-and-twenty miles. Even
Sirmium might not have been secure, if the Quadi and Sarmatians had
diligently advanced during the general consternation of the magistrates
and people. Their delay allowed Probus, the Prætorian præfect,
sufficient time to recover his own spirits, and to revive the courage of
the citizens. He skilfully directed their strenuous efforts to repair
and strengthen the decayed fortifications; and procured the seasonable
and effectual assistance of a company of archers, to protect the capital
of the Illyrian provinces. Disappointed in their attempts against the
walls of Sirmium, the indignant Barbarians turned their arms against the
master general of the frontier, to whom they unjustly attributed the
murder of their king. Equitius could bring into the field no more than
two legions; but they contained the veteran strength of the Mæsian and
Pannonian bands. The obstinacy with which they disputed the vain honors
of rank and precedency, was the cause of their destruction; and while
they acted with separate forces and divided councils, they were
surprised and slaughtered by the active vigor of the Sarmatian horse.
The success of this invasion provoked the emulation of the bordering
tribes; and the province of Mæsia would infallibly have been lost, if
young Theodosius, the duke, or military commander, of the frontier, had
not signalized, in the defeat of the public enemy, an intrepid genius,
worthy of his illustrious father, and of his future greatness.

Chapter XXV: Reigns Of Jovian And Valentinian, Division Of The Empire.
-- Part VII.

The mind of Valentinian, who then resided at Treves, was deeply affected
by the calamities of Illyricum; but the lateness of the season suspended
the execution of his designs till the ensuing spring. He marched in
person, with a considerable part of the forces of Gaul, from the banks
of the Moselle: and to the suppliant ambassadors of the Sarmatians, who
met him on the way, he returned a doubtful answer, that, as soon as he
reached the scene of action, he should examine, and pronounce. When he
arrived at Sirmium, he gave audience to the deputies of the Illyrian
provinces; who loudly congratulated their own felicity under the
auspicious government of Probus, his Prætorian præfect.  Valentinian,
who was flattered by these demonstrations of their loyalty and
gratitude, imprudently asked the deputy of Epirus, a Cynic philosopher
of intrepid sincerity,  whether he was freely sent by the wishes of the
province. "With tears and groans am I sent," replied Iphicles, "by a
reluctant people." The emperor paused: but the impunity of his ministers
established the pernicious maxim, that they might oppress his subjects,
without injuring his service. A strict inquiry into their conduct would
have relieved the public discontent. The severe condemnation of the
murder of Gabinius, was the only measure which could restore the
confidence of the Germans, and vindicate the honor of the Roman name.
But the haughty monarch was incapable of the magnanimity which dares to
acknowledge a fault. He forgot the provocation, remembered only the
injury, and advanced into the country of the Quadi with an insatiate
thirst of blood and revenge. The extreme devastation, and promiscuous
massacre, of a savage war, were justified, in the eyes of the emperor,
and perhaps in those of the world, by the cruel equity of retaliation:
and such was the discipline of the Romans, and the consternation of the
enemy, that Valentinian repassed the Danube without the loss of a single
man. As he had resolved to complete the destruction of the Quadi by a
second campaign, he fixed his winter quarters at Bregetio, on the
Danube, near the Hungarian city of Presburg. While the operations of war
were suspended by the severity of the weather, the Quadi made an humble
attempt to deprecate the wrath of their conqueror; and, at the earnest
persuasion of Equitius, their ambassadors were introduced into the
Imperial council. They approached the throne with bended bodies and
dejected countenances; and without daring to complain of the murder of
their king, they affirmed, with solemn oaths, that the late invasion was
the crime of some irregular robbers, which the public council of the
nation condemned and abhorred. The answer of the emperor left them but
little to hope from his clemency or compassion. He reviled, in the most
intemperate language, their baseness, their ingratitude, their
insolence. His eyes, his voice, his color, his gestures, expressed the
violence of his ungoverned fury; and while his whole frame was agitated
with convulsive passion, a large blood vessel suddenly burst in his
body; and Valentinian fell speechless into the arms of his attendants.
Their pious care immediately concealed his situation from the crowd;
but, in a few minutes, the emperor of the West expired in an agony of
pain, retaining his senses till the last; and struggling, without
success, to declare his intentions to the generals and ministers, who
surrounded the royal couch. Valentinian was about fifty-four years of
age; and he wanted only one hundred days to accomplish the twelve years
of his reign.

The polygamy of Valentinian is seriously attested by an ecclesiastical
historian.  "The empress Severa (I relate the fable) admitted into her
familiar society the lovely Justina, the daughter of an Italian
governor: her admiration of those naked charms, which she had often seen
in the bath, was expressed with such lavish and imprudent praise, that
the emperor was tempted to introduce a second wife into his bed; and his
public edict extended to all the subjects of the empire the same
domestic privilege which he had assumed for himself." But we may be
assured, from the evidence of reason as well as history, that the two
marriages of Valentinian, with Severa, and with Justina, were
successivelycontracted; and that he used the ancient permission of
divorce, which was still allowed by the laws, though it was condemned by
the church Severa was the mother of Gratian, who seemed to unite every
claim which could entitle him to the undoubted succession of the Western
empire. He was the eldest son of a monarch whose glorious reign had
confirmed the free and honorable choice of his fellow-soldiers. Before
he had attained the ninth year of his age, the royal youth received from
the hands of his indulgent father the purple robe and diadem, with the
title of Augustus; the election was solemnly ratified by the consent and
applause of the armies of Gaul;  and the name of Gratian was added to
the names of Valentinian and Valens, in all the legal transactions of
the Roman government. By his marriage with the granddaughter of
Constantine, the son of Valentinian acquired all the hereditary rights
of the Flavian family; which, in a series of three Imperial generations,
were sanctified by time, religion, and the reverence of the people. At
the death of his father, the royal youth was in the seventeenth year of
his age; and his virtues already justified the favorable opinion of the
army and the people. But Gratian resided, without apprehension, in the
palace of Treves; whilst, at the distance of many hundred miles,
Valentinian suddenly expired in the camp of Bregetio. The passions,
which had been so long suppressed by the presence of a master,
immediately revived in the Imperial council; and the ambitious design of
reigning in the name of an infant, was artfully executed by Mellobaudes
and Equitius, who commanded the attachment of the Illyrian and Italian
bands. They contrived the most honorable pretences to remove the popular
leaders, and the troops of Gaul, who might have asserted the claims of
the lawful successor; they suggested the necessity of extinguishing the
hopes of foreign and domestic enemies, by a bold and decisive measure.
The empress Justina, who had been left in a palace about one hundred
miles from Bregetio, was respectively invited to appear in the camp,
with the son of the deceased emperor. On the sixth day after the death
of Valentinian, the infant prince of the same name, who was only four
years old, was shown, in the arms of his mother, to the legions; and
solemnly invested, by military acclamation, with the titles and ensigns
of supreme power. The impending dangers of a civil war were seasonably
prevented by the wise and moderate conduct of the emperor Gratian. He
cheerfully accepted the choice of the army; declared that he should
always consider the son of Justina as a brother, not as a rival; and
advised the empress, with her son Valentinian to fix their residence at
Milan, in the fair and peaceful province of Italy; while he assumed the
more arduous command of the countries beyond the Alps. Gratian
dissembled his resentment till he could safely punish, or disgrace, the
authors of the conspiracy; and though he uniformly behaved with
tenderness and regard to his infant colleague, he gradually confounded,
in the administration of the Western empire, the office of a guardian
with the authority of a sovereign. The government of the Roman world was
exercised in the united names of Valens and his two nephews; but the
feeble emperor of the East, who succeeded to the rank of his elder
brother, never obtained any weight or influence in the councils of the
West.

Chapter XXVI: Progress of The Huns. Part I.

Manners Of The Pastoral Nations. -- Progress Of The Huns, From China To
Europe. -- Flight Of The Goths. -- They Pass The Danube. -- Gothic War.
-- Defeat And Death Of Valens. -- Gratian Invests Theodosius With The
Eastern Empire. -- His Character And Success. -- Peace And Settlement Of
The Goths.

In the second year of the reign of Valentinian and Valens, on the
morning of the twenty-first day of July, the greatest part of the Roman
world was shaken by a violent and destructive earthquake. The impression
was communicated to the waters; the shores of the Mediterranean were
left dry, by the sudden retreat of the sea; great quantities of fish
were caught with the hand; large vessels were stranded on the mud; and a
curious spectator  amused his eye, or rather his fancy, by contemplating
the various appearance of valleys and mountains, which had never, since
the formation of the globe, been exposed to the sun. But the tide soon
returned, with the weight of an immense and irresistible deluge, which
was severely felt on the coasts of Sicily, of Dalmatia, of Greece, and
of Egypt: large boats were transported, and lodged on the roofs of
houses, or at the distance of two miles from the shore; the people, with
their habitations, were swept away by the waters; and the city of
Alexandria annually commemorated the fatal day, on which fifty thousand
persons had lost their lives in the inundation. This calamity, the
report of which was magnified from one province to another, astonished
and terrified the subjects of Rome; and their affrighted imagination
enlarged the real extent of a momentary evil. They recollected the
preceding earthquakes, which had subverted the cities of Palestine and
Bithynia: they considered these alarming strokes as the prelude only of
still more dreadful calamities, and their fearful vanity was disposed to
confound the symptoms of a declining empire and a sinking world.  It was
the fashion of the times to attribute every remarkable event to the
particular will of the Deity; the alterations of nature were connected,
by an invisible chain, with the moral and metaphysical opinions of the
human mind; and the most sagacious divines could distinguish, according
to the color of their respective prejudices, that the establishment of
heresy tended to produce an earthquake; or that a deluge was the
inevitable consequence of the progress of sin and error. Without
presuming to discuss the truth or propriety of these lofty speculations,
the historian may content himself with an observation, which seems to be
justified by experience, that man has much more to fear from the
passions of his fellow-creatures, than from the convulsions of the
elements.  The mischievous effects of an earthquake, or deluge, a
hurricane, or the eruption of a volcano, bear a very inconsiderable
portion to the ordinary calamities of war, as they are now moderated by
the prudence or humanity of the princes of Europe, who amuse their own
leisure, and exercise the courage of their subjects, in the practice of
the military art. But the laws and manners of modern nations protect the
safety and freedom of the vanquished soldier; and the peaceful citizen
has seldom reason to complain, that his life, or even his fortune, is
exposed to the rage of war. In the disastrous period of the fall of the
Roman empire, which may justly be dated from the reign of Valens, the
happiness and security of each individual were personally attacked; and
the arts and labors of ages were rudely defaced by the Barbarians of
Scythia and Germany. The invasion of the Huns precipitated on the
provinces of the West the Gothic nation, which advanced, in less than
forty years, from the Danube to the Atlantic, and opened a way, by the
success of their arms, to the inroads of so many hostile tribes, more
savage than themselves. The original principle of motion was concealed
in the remote countries of the North; and the curious observation of the
pastoral life of the Scythians,  or Tartars,  will illustrate the latent
cause of these destructive emigrations.

The different characters that mark the civilized nations of the globe,
may be ascribed to the use, and the abuse, of reason; which so variously
shapes, and so artificially composes, the manners and opinions of a
European, or a Chinese. But the operation of instinct is more sure and
simple than that of reason: it is much easier to ascertain the appetites
of a quadruped than the speculations of a philosopher; and the savage
tribes of mankind, as they approach nearer to the condition of animals,
preserve a stronger resemblance to themselves and to each other. The
uniform stability of their manners is the natural consequence of the
imperfection of their faculties. Reduced to a similar situation, their
wants, their desires, their enjoyments, still continue the same: and the
influence of food or climate, which, in a more improved state of
society, is suspended, or subdued, by so many moral causes, most
powerfully contributes to form, and to maintain, the national character
of Barbarians. In every age, the immense plains of Scythia, or Tartary,
have been inhabited by vagrant tribes of hunters and shepherds, whose
indolence refuses to cultivate the earth, and whose restless spirit
disdains the confinement of a sedentary life. In every age, the
Scythians, and Tartars, have been renowned for their invincible courage
and rapid conquests. The thrones of Asia have been repeatedly overturned
by the shepherds of the North; and their arms have spread terror and
devastation over the most fertile and warlike countries of Europe.  On
this occasion, as well as on many others, the sober historian is
forcibly awakened from a pleasing vision; and is compelled, with some
reluctance, to confess, that the pastoral manners, which have been
adorned with the fairest attributes of peace and innocence, are much
better adapted to the fierce and cruel habits of a military life. To
illustrate this observation, I shall now proceed to consider a nation of
shepherds and of warriors, in the three important articles of, I. Their
diet; II. Their habitations; and, III. Their exercises. The narratives
of antiquity are justified by the experience of modern times;  and the
banks of the Borysthenes, of the Volga, or of the Selinga, will
indifferently present the same uniform spectacle of similar and native
manners.

I. The corn, or even the rice, which constitutes the ordinary and
wholesome food of a civilized people, can be obtained only by the
patient toil of the husbandman. Some of the happy savages, who dwell
between the tropics, are plentifully nourished by the liberality of
nature; but in the climates of the North, a nation of shepherds is
reduced to their flocks and herds. The skilful practitioners of the
medical art will determine (if they are able to determine) how far the
temper of the human mind may be affected by the use of animal, or of
vegetable, food; and whether the common association of carnivorous and
cruel deserves to be considered in any other light than that of an
innocent, perhaps a salutary, prejudice of humanity.  Yet, if it be
true, that the sentiment of compassion is imperceptibly weakened by the
sight and practice of domestic cruelty, we may observe, that the horrid
objects which are disguised by the arts of European refinement, are
exhibited in their naked and most disgusting simplicity in the tent of a
Tartarian shepherd. The ox, or the sheep, are slaughtered by the same
hand from which they were accustomed to receive their daily food; and
the bleeding limbs are served, with very little preparation, on the
table of their unfeeling murderer. In the military profession, and
especially in the conduct of a numerous army, the exclusive use of
animal food appears to be productive of the most solid advantages. Corn
is a bulky and perishable commodity; and the large magazines, which are
indispensably necessary for the subsistence of our troops, must be
slowly transported by the labor of men or horses. But the flocks and
herds, which accompany the march of the Tartars, afford a sure and
increasing supply of flesh and milk: in the far greater part of the
uncultivated waste, the vegetation of the grass is quick and luxuriant;
and there are few places so extremely barren, that the hardy cattle of
the North cannot find some tolerable pasture. The supply is multiplied
and prolonged by the undistinguishing appetite, and patient abstinence,
of the Tartars. They indifferently feed on the flesh of those animals
that have been killed for the table, or have died of disease.
Horseflesh, which in every age and country has been proscribed by the
civilized nations of Europe and Asia, they devour with peculiar
greediness; and this singular taste facilitates the success of their
military operations. The active cavalry of Scythia is always followed,
in their most distant and rapid incursions, by an adequate number of
spare horses, who may be occasionally used, either to redouble the
speed, or to satisfy the hunger, of the Barbarians. Many are the
resources of courage and poverty. When the forage round a camp of
Tartars is almost consumed, they slaughter the greatest part of their
cattle, and preserve the flesh, either smoked, or dried in the sun. On
the sudden emergency of a hasty march, they provide themselves with a
sufficient quantity of little balls of cheese, or rather of hard curd,
which they occasionally dissolve in water; and this unsubstantial diet
will support, for many days, the life, and even the spirits, of the
patient warrior. But this extraordinary abstinence, which the Stoic
would approve, and the hermit might envy, is commonly succeeded by the
most voracious indulgence of appetite. The wines of a happier climate
are the most grateful present, or the most valuable commodity, that can
be offered to the Tartars; and the only example of their industry seems
to consist in the art of extracting from mare's milk a fermented liquor,
which possesses a very strong power of intoxication. Like the animals of
prey, the savages, both of the old and new world, experience the
alternate vicissitudes of famine and plenty; and their stomach is inured
to sustain, without much inconvenience, the opposite extremes of hunger
and of intemperance.

II. In the ages of rustic and martial simplicity, a people of soldiers
and husbandmen are dispersed over the face of an extensive and
cultivated country; and some time must elapse before the warlike youth
of Greece or Italy could be assembled under the same standard, either to
defend their own confines, or to invade the territories of the adjacent
tribes. The progress of manufactures and commerce insensibly collects a
large multitude within the walls of a city: but these citizens are no
longer soldiers; and the arts which adorn and improve the state of civil
society, corrupt the habits of the military life. The pastoral manners
of the Scythians seem to unite the different advantages of simplicity
and refinement. The individuals of the same tribe are constantly
assembled, but they are assembled in a camp; and the native spirit of
these dauntless shepherds is animated by mutual support and emulation.
The houses of the Tartars are no more than small tents, of an oval form,
which afford a cold and dirty habitation, for the promiscuous youth of
both sexes. The palaces of the rich consist of wooden huts, of such a
size that they may be conveniently fixed on large wagons, and drawn by a
team perhaps of twenty or thirty oxen. The flocks and herds, after
grazing all day in the adjacent pastures, retire, on the approach of
night, within the protection of the camp. The necessity of preventing
the most mischievous confusion, in such a perpetual concourse of men and
animals, must gradually introduce, in the distribution, the order, and
the guard, of the encampment, the rudiments of the military art. As soon
as the forage of a certain district is consumed, the tribe, or rather
army, of shepherds, makes a regular march to some fresh pastures; and
thus acquires, in the ordinary occupations of the pastoral life, the
practical knowledge of one of the most important and difficult
operations of war. The choice of stations is regulated by the difference
of the seasons: in the summer, the Tartars advance towards the North,
and pitch their tents on the banks of a river, or, at least, in the
neighborhood of a running stream. But in the winter, they return to the
South, and shelter their camp, behind some convenient eminence, against
the winds, which are chilled in their passage over the bleak and icy
regions of Siberia. These manners are admirably adapted to diffuse,
among the wandering tribes, the spirit of emigration and conquest. The
connection between the people and their territory is of so frail a
texture, that it may be broken by the slightest accident. The camp, and
not the soil, is the native country of the genuine Tartar. Within the
precincts of that camp, his family, his companions, his property, are
always included; and, in the most distant marches, he is still
surrounded by the objects which are dear, or valuable, or familiar in
his eyes. The thirst of rapine, the fear, or the resentment of injury,
the impatience of servitude, have, in every age, been sufficient causes
to urge the tribes of Scythia boldly to advance into some unknown
countries, where they might hope to find a more plentiful subsistence or
a less formidable enemy. The revolutions of the North have frequently
determined the fate of the South; and in the conflict of hostile
nations, the victor and the vanquished have alternately drove, and been
driven, from the confines of China to those of Germany.  These great
emigrations, which have been sometimes executed with almost incredible
diligence, were rendered more easy by the peculiar nature of the
climate. It is well known that the cold of Tartary is much more severe
than in the midst of the temperate zone might reasonably be expected;
this uncommon rigor is attributed to the height of the plains, which
rise, especially towards the East, more than half a mile above the level
of the sea; and to the quantity of saltpetre with which the soil is
deeply impregnated.  In the winter season, the broad and rapid rivers,
that discharge their waters into the Euxine, the Caspian, or the Icy
Sea, are strongly frozen; the fields are covered with a bed of snow; and
the fugitive, or victorious, tribes may securely traverse, with their
families, their wagons, and their cattle, the smooth and hard surface of
an immense plain.

III. The pastoral life, compared with the labors of agriculture and
manufactures, is undoubtedly a life of idleness; and as the most
honorable shepherds of the Tartar race devolve on their captives the
domestic management of the cattle, their own leisure is seldom disturbed
by any servile and assiduous cares. But this leisure, instead of being
devoted to the soft enjoyments of love and harmony, is use fully spent
in the violent and sanguinary exercise of the chase. The plains of
Tartary are filled with a strong and serviceable breed of horses, which
are easily trained for the purposes of war and hunting. The Scythians of
every age have been celebrated as bold and skilful riders; and constant
practice had seated them so firmly on horseback, that they were supposed
by strangers to perform the ordinary duties of civil life, to eat, to
drink, and even to sleep, without dismounting from their steeds. They
excel in the dexterous management of the lance; the long Tartar bow is
drawn with a nervous arm; and the weighty arrow is directed to its
object with unerring aim and irresistible force. These arrows are often
pointed against the harmless animals of the desert, which increase and
multiply in the absence of their most formidable enemy; the hare, the
goat, the roebuck, the fallow-deer, the stag, the elk, and the antelope.
The vigor and patience, both of the men and horses, are continually
exercised by the fatigues of the chase; and the plentiful supply of game
contributes to the subsistence, and even luxury, of a Tartar camp. But
the exploits of the hunters of Scythia are not confined to the
destruction of timid or innoxious beasts; they boldly encounter the
angry wild boar, when he turns against his pursuers, excite the sluggish
courage of the bear, and provoke the fury of the tiger, as he slumbers
in the thicket. Where there is danger, there may be glory; and the mode
of hunting, which opens the fairest field to the exertions of valor, may
justly be considered as the image, and as the school, of war. The
general hunting matches, the pride and delight of the Tartar princes,
compose an instructive exercise for their numerous cavalry. A circle is
drawn, of many miles in circumference, to encompass the game of an
extensive district; and the troops that form the circle regularly
advance towards a common centre; where the captive animals, surrounded
on every side, are abandoned to the darts of the hunters. In this march,
which frequently continues many days, the cavalry are obliged to climb
the hills, to swim the rivers, and to wind through the valleys, without
interrupting the prescribed order of their gradual progress. They
acquire the habit of directing their eye, and their steps, to a remote
object; of preserving their intervals of suspending or accelerating
their pace, according to the motions of the troops on their right and
left; and of watching and repeating the signals of their leaders. Their
leaders study, in this practical school, the most important lesson of
the military art; the prompt and accurate judgment of ground, of
distance, and of time. To employ against a human enemy the same patience
and valor, the same skill and discipline, is the only alteration which
is required in real war; and the amusements of the chase serve as a
prelude to the conquest of an empire.

The political society of the ancient Germans has the appearance of a
voluntary alliance of independent warriors. The tribes of Scythia,
distinguished by the modern appellation of Hords, assume the form of a
numerous and increasing family; which, in the course of successive
generations, has been propagated from the same original stock. The
meanest, and most ignorant, of the Tartars, preserve, with conscious
pride, the inestimable treasure of their genealogy; and whatever
distinctions of rank may have been introduced, by the unequal
distribution of pastoral wealth, they mutually respect themselves, and
each other, as the descendants of the first founder of the tribe. The
custom, which still prevails, of adopting the bravest and most faithful
of the captives, may countenance the very probable suspicion, that this
extensive consanguinity is, in a great measure, legal and fictitious.
But the useful prejudice, which has obtained the sanction of time and
opinion, produces the effects of truth; the haughty Barbarians yield a
cheerful and voluntary obedience to the head of their blood; and their
chief, or mursa, as the representative of their great father, exercises
the authority of a judge in peace, and of a leader in war. In the
original state of the pastoral world, each of the mursas(if we may
continue to use a modern appellation) acted as the independent chief of
a large and separate family; and the limits of their peculiar
territories were gradually fixed by superior force, or mutual consent.
But the constant operation of various and permanent causes contributed
to unite the vagrant Hords into national communities, under the command
of a supreme head. The weak were desirous of support, and the strong
were ambitious of dominion; the power, which is the result of union,
oppressed and collected the divided force of the adjacent tribes; and,
as the vanquished were freely admitted to share the advantages of
victory, the most valiant chiefs hastened to range themselves and their
followers under the formidable standard of a confederate nation. The
most successful of the Tartar princes assumed the military command, to
which he was entitled by the superiority, either of merit or of power.
He was raised to the throne by the acclamations of his equals; and the
title of Khanexpresses, in the language of the North of Asia, the full
extent of the regal dignity. The right of hereditary succession was long
confined to the blood of the founder of the monarchy; and at this moment
all the Khans, who reign from Crimea to the wall of China, are the
lineal descendants of the renowned Zingis.  But, as it is the
indispensable duty of a Tartar sovereign to lead his warlike subjects
into the field, the claims of an infant are often disregarded; and some
royal kinsman, distinguished by his age and valor, is intrusted with the
sword and sceptre of his predecessor. Two distinct and regular taxes are
levied on the tribes, to support the dignity of the national monarch,
and of their peculiar chief; and each of those contributions amounts to
the tithe, both of their property, and of their spoil. A Tartar
sovereign enjoys the tenth part of the wealth of his people; and as his
own domestic riches of flocks and herds increase in a much larger
proportion, he is able plentifully to maintain the rustic splendor of
his court, to reward the most deserving, or the most favored of his
followers, and to obtain, from the gentle influence of corruption, the
obedience which might be sometimes refused to the stern mandates of
authority. The manners of his subjects, accustomed, like himself, to
blood and rapine, might excuse, in their eyes, such partial acts of
tyranny, as would excite the horror of a civilized people; but the power
of a despot has never been acknowledged in the deserts of Scythia. The
immediate jurisdiction of the khan is confined within the limits of his
own tribe; and the exercise of his royal prerogative has been moderated
by the ancient institution of a national council. The Coroultai,  or
Diet, of the Tartars, was regularly held in the spring and autumn, in
the midst of a plain; where the princes of the reigning family, and the
mursas of the respective tribes, may conveniently assemble on horseback,
with their martial and numerous trains; and the ambitious monarch, who
reviewed the strength, must consult the inclination of an armed people.
The rudiments of a feudal government may be discovered in the
constitution of the Scythian or Tartar nations; but the perpetual
conflict of those hostile nations has sometimes terminated in the
establishment of a powerful and despotic empire. The victor, enriched by
the tribute, and fortified by the arms of dependent kings, has spread
his conquests over Europe or Asia: the successful shepherds of the North
have submitted to the confinement of arts, of laws, and of cities; and
the introduction of luxury, after destroying the freedom of the people,
has undermined the foundations of the throne.

The memory of past events cannot long be preserved in the frequent and
remote emigrations of illiterate Barbarians. The modern Tartars are
ignorant of the conquests of their ancestors;  and our knowledge of the
history of the Scythians is derived from their intercourse with the
learned and civilized nations of the South, the Greeks, the Persians,
and the Chinese. The Greeks, who navigated the Euxine, and planted their
colonies along the sea-coast, made the gradual and imperfect discovery
of Scythia; from the Danube, and the confines of Thrace, as far as the
frozen Mæotis, the seat of eternal winter, and Mount Caucasus, which, in
the language of poetry, was described as the utmost boundary of the
earth. They celebrated, with simple credulity, the virtues of the
pastoral life:  they entertained a more rational apprehension of the
strength and numbers of the warlike Barbarians,  who contemptuously
baffled the immense armament of Darius, the son of Hystaspes.  The
Persian monarchs had extended their western conquests to the banks of
the Danube, and the limits of European Scythia. The eastern provinces of
their empire were exposed to the Scythians of Asia; the wild inhabitants
of the plains beyond the Oxus and the Jaxartes, two mighty rivers, which
direct their course towards the Caspian Sea. The long and memorable
quarrel of Iran and Touran is still the theme of history or romance: the
famous, perhaps the fabulous, valor of the Persian heroes, Rustan and
Asfendiar, was signalized, in the defence of their country, against the
Afrasiabs of the North;  and the invincible spirit of the same
Barbarians resisted, on the same ground, the victorious arms of Cyrus
and Alexander.  In the eyes of the Greeks and Persians, the real
geography of Scythia was bounded, on the East, by the mountains of
Imaus, or Caf; and their distant prospect of the extreme and
inaccessible parts of Asia was clouded by ignorance, or perplexed by
fiction. But those inaccessible regions are the ancient residence of a
powerful and civilized nation,  which ascends, by a probable tradition,
above forty centuries;  and which is able to verify a series of near two
thousand years, by the perpetual testimony of accurate and contemporary
historians.  The annals of China  illustrate the state and revolutions
of the pastoral tribes, which may still be distinguished by the vague
appellation of Scythians, or Tartars; the vassals, the enemies, and
sometimes the conquerors, of a great empire; whose policy has uniformly
opposed the blind and impetuous valor of the Barbarians of the North.
From the mouth of the Danube to the Sea of Japan, the whole longitude of
Scythia is about one hundred and ten degrees, which, in that parallel,
are equal to more than five thousand miles. The latitude of these
extensive deserts cannot be so easily, or so accurately, measured; but,
from the fortieth degree, which touches the wall of China, we may
securely advance above a thousand miles to the northward, till our
progress is stopped by the excessive cold of Siberia. In that dreary
climate, instead of the animated picture of a Tartar camp, the smoke
that issues from the earth, or rather from the snow, betrays the
subterraneous dwellings of the Tongouses, and the Samoides: the want of
horses and oxen is imperfectly supplied by the use of reindeer, and of
large dogs; and the conquerors of the earth insensibly degenerate into a
race of deformed and diminutive savages, who tremble at the sound of
arms.

Chapter XXVI: Progress of The Huns. -- Part II.

The Huns, who under the reign of Valens threatened the empire of Rome,
had been formidable, in a much earlier period, to the empire of China.
Their ancient, perhaps their original, seat was an extensive, though dry
and barren, tract of country, immediately on the north side of the great
wall. Their place is at present occupied by the forty-nine Hords or
Banners of the Mongous, a pastoral nation, which consists of about two
hundred thousand families.  But the valor of the Huns had extended the
narrow limits of their dominions; and their rustic chiefs, who assumed
the appellation of Tanjou, gradually became the conquerors, and the
sovereigns of a formidable empire. Towards the East, their victorious
arms were stopped only by the ocean; and the tribes, which are thinly
scattered between the Amoor and the extreme peninsula of Corea, adhered,
with reluctance, to the standard of the Huns. On the West, near the head
of the Irtish, in the valleys of Imaus, they found a more ample space,
and more numerous enemies. One of the lieutenants of the Tanjou subdued,
in a single expedition, twenty-six nations; the Igours,  distinguished
above the Tartar race by the use of letters, were in the number of his
vassals; and, by the strange connection of human events, the flight of
one of those vagrant tribes recalled the victorious Parthians from the
invasion of Syria.  On the side of the North, the ocean was assigned as
the limit of the power of the Huns. Without enemies to resist their
progress, or witnesses to contradict their vanity, they might securely
achieve a real, or imaginary, conquest of the frozen regions of Siberia.
The Northern Seawas fixed as the remote boundary of their empire. But
the name of that sea, on whose shores the patriot Sovou embraced the
life of a shepherd and an exile,  may be transferred, with much more
probability, to the Baikal, a capacious basin, above three hundred miles
in length, which disdains the modest appellation of a lake  and which
actually communicates with the seas of the North, by the long course of
the Angara, the Tongusha, and the Jenissea. The submission of so many
distant nations might flatter the pride of the Tanjou; but the valor of
the Huns could be rewarded only by the enjoyment of the wealth and
luxury of the empire of the South. In the third century  before the
Christian æra, a wall of fifteen hundred miles in length was
constructed, to defend the frontiers of China against the inroads of the
Huns;  but this stupendous work, which holds a conspicuous place in the
map of the world, has never contributed to the safety of an unwarlike
people. The cavalry of the Tanjou frequently consisted of two or three
hundred thousand men, formidable by the matchless dexterity with which
they managed their bows and their horses: by their hardy patience in
supporting the inclemency of the weather; and by the incredible speed of
their march, which was seldom checked by torrents, or precipices, by the
deepest rivers, or by the most lofty mountains. They spread themselves
at once over the face of the country; and their rapid impetuosity
surprised, astonished, and disconcerted the grave and elaborate tactics
of a Chinese army. The emperor Kaoti,  a soldier of fortune, whose
personal merit had raised him to the throne, marched against the Huns
with those veteran troops which had been trained in the civil wars of
China. But he was soon surrounded by the Barbarians; and, after a siege
of seven days, the monarch, hopeless of relief, was reduced to purchase
his deliverance by an ignominious capitulation. The successors of Kaoti,
whose lives were dedicated to the arts of peace, or the luxury of the
palace, submitted to a more permanent disgrace. They too hastily
confessed the insufficiency of arms and fortifications. They were too
easily convinced, that while the blazing signals announced on every side
the approach of the Huns, the Chinese troops, who slept with the helmet
on their head, and the cuirass on their back, were destroyed by the
incessant labor of ineffectual marches.  A regular payment of money, and
silk, was stipulated as the condition of a temporary and precarious
peace; and the wretched expedient of disguising a real tribute, under
the names of a gift or subsidy, was practised by the emperors of China
as well as by those of Rome. But there still remained a more disgraceful
article of tribute, which violated the sacred feelings of humanity and
nature. The hardships of the savage life, which destroy in their infancy
the children who are born with a less healthy and robust constitution,
introduced a remarkable disproportion between the numbers of the two
sexes. The Tartars are an ugly and even deformed race; and while they
consider their own women as the instruments of domestic labor, their
desires, or rather their appetites, are directed to the enjoyment of
more elegant beauty. A select band of the fairest maidens of China was
annually devoted to the rude embraces of the Huns;  and the alliance of
the haughty Tanjous was secured by their marriage with the genuine, or
adopted, daughters of the Imperial family, which vainly attempted to
escape the sacrilegious pollution. The situation of these unhappy
victims is described in the verses of a Chinese princess, who laments
that she had been condemned by her parents to a distant exile, under a
Barbarian husband; who complains that sour milk was her only drink, raw
flesh her only food, a tent her only palace; and who expresses, in a
strain of pathetic simplicity, the natural wish, that she were
transformed into a bird, to fly back to her dear country; the object of
her tender and perpetual regret.

The conquest of China has been twice achieved by the pastoral tribes of
the North: the forces of the Huns were not inferior to those of the
Moguls, or of the Mantcheoux; and their ambition might entertain the
most sanguine hopes of success. But their pride was humbled, and their
progress was checked, by the arms and policy of Vouti,  the fifth
emperor of the powerful dynasty of the Han. In his long reign of
fifty-four years, the Barbarians of the southern provinces submitted to
the laws and manners of China; and the ancient limits of the monarchy
were enlarged, from the great river of Kiang, to the port of Canton.
Instead of confining himself to the timid operations of a defensive war,
his lieutenants penetrated many hundred miles into the country of the
Huns. In those boundless deserts, where it is impossible to form
magazines, and difficult to transport a sufficient supply of provisions,
the armies of Vouti were repeatedly exposed to intolerable hardships:
and, of one hundred and forty thousand soldiers, who marched against the
Barbarians, thirty thousand only returned in safety to the feet of their
master. These losses, however, were compensated by splendid and decisive
success. The Chinese generals improved the superiority which they
derived from the temper of their arms, their chariots of war, and the
service of their Tartar auxiliaries. The camp of the Tanjou was
surprised in the midst of sleep and intemperance; and, though the
monarch of the Huns bravely cut his way through the ranks of the enemy,
he left above fifteen thousand of his subjects on the field of battle.
Yet this signal victory, which was preceded and followed by many bloody
engagements, contributed much less to the destruction of the power of
the Huns than the effectual policy which was employed to detach the
tributary nations from their obedience. Intimidated by the arms, or
allured by the promises, of Vouti and his successors, the most
considerable tribes, both of the East and of the West, disclaimed the
authority of the Tanjou. While some acknowledged themselves the allies
or vassals of the empire, they all became the implacable enemies of the
Huns; and the numbers of that haughty people, as soon as they were
reduced to their native strength, might, perhaps, have been contained
within the walls of one of the great and populous cities of China.  The
desertion of his subjects, and the perplexity of a civil war, at length
compelled the Tanjou himself to renounce the dignity of an independent
sovereign, and the freedom of a warlike and high-spirited nation. He was
received at Sigan, the capital of the monarchy, by the troops, the
mandarins, and the emperor himself, with all the honors that could adorn
and disguise the triumph of Chinese vanity.  A magnificent palace was
prepared for his reception; his place was assigned above all the princes
of the royal family; and the patience of the Barbarian king was
exhausted by the ceremonies of a banquet, which consisted of eight
courses of meat, and of nine solemn pieces of music. But he performed,
on his knees, the duty of a respectful homage to the emperor of China;
pronounced, in his own name, and in the name of his successors, a
perpetual oath of fidelity; and gratefully accepted a seal, which was
bestowed as the emblem of his regal dependence. After this humiliating
submission, the Tanjous sometimes departed from their allegiance and
seized the favorable moments of war and rapine; but the monarchy of the
Huns gradually declined, till it was broken, by civil dissension, into
two hostile and separate kingdoms. One of the princes of the nation was
urged, by fear and ambition, to retire towards the South with eight
hords, which composed between forty and fifty thousand families. He
obtained, with the title of Tanjou, a convenient territory on the verge
of the Chinese provinces; and his constant attachment to the service of
the empire was secured by weakness, and the desire of revenge. From the
time of this fatal schism, the Huns of the North continued to languish
about fifty years; till they were oppressed on every side by their
foreign and domestic enemies. The proud inscription  of a column,
erected on a lofty mountain, announced to posterity, that a Chinese army
had marched seven hundred miles into the heart of their country. The
Sienpi,  a tribe of Oriental Tartars, retaliated the injuries which they
had formerly sustained; and the power of the Tanjous, after a reign of
thirteen hundred years, was utterly destroyed before the end of the
first century of the Christian æra.

The fate of the vanquished Huns was diversified by the various influence
of character and situation.  Above one hundred thousand persons, the
poorest, indeed, and the most pusillanimous of the people, were
contented to remain in their native country, to renounce their peculiar
name and origin, and to mingle with the victorious nation of the Sienpi.
Fifty-eight hords, about two hundred thousand men, ambitious of a more
honorable servitude, retired towards the South; implored the protection
of the emperors of China; and were permitted to inhabit, and to guard,
the extreme frontiers of the province of Chansi and the territory of
Ortous. But the most warlike and powerful tribes of the Huns maintained,
in their adverse fortune, the undaunted spirit of their ancestors. The
Western world was open to their valor; and they resolved, under the
conduct of their hereditary chieftains, to conquer and subdue some
remote country, which was still inaccessible to the arms of the Sienpi,
and to the laws of China.  The course of their emigration soon carried
them beyond the mountains of Imaus, and the limits of the Chinese
geography; but we are able to distinguish the two great divisions of
these formidable exiles, which directed their march towards the Oxus,
and towards the Volga. The first of these colonies established their
dominion in the fruitful and extensive plains of Sogdiana, on the
eastern side of the Caspian; where they preserved the name of Huns, with
the epithet of Euthalites, or Nepthalites. * Their manners were
softened, and even their features were insensibly improved, by the
mildness of the climate, and their long residence in a flourishing
province,  which might still retain a faint impression of the arts of
Greece.  The whiteHuns, a name which they derived from the change of
their complexions, soon abandoned the pastoral life of Scythia. Gorgo,
which, under the appellation of Carizme, has since enjoyed a temporary
splendor, was the residence of the king, who exercised a legal authority
over an obedient people. Their luxury was maintained by the labor of the
Sogdians; and the only vestige of their ancient barbarism, was the
custom which obliged all the companions, perhaps to the number of
twenty, who had shared the liberality of a wealthy lord, to be buried
alive in the same grave.  The vicinity of the Huns to the provinces of
Persia, involved them in frequent and bloody contests with the power of
that monarchy. But they respected, in peace, the faith of treaties; in
war, she dictates of humanity; and their memorable victory over Peroses,
or Firuz, displayed the moderation, as well as the valor, of the
Barbarians. The seconddivision of their countrymen, the Huns, who
gradually advanced towards the North-west, were exercised by the
hardships of a colder climate, and a more laborious march. Necessity
compelled them to exchange the silks of China for the furs of Siberia;
the imperfect rudiments of civilized life were obliterated; and the
native fierceness of the Huns was exasperated by their intercourse with
the savage tribes, who were compared, with some propriety, to the wild
beasts of the desert. Their independent spirit soon rejected the
hereditary succession of the Tanjous; and while each horde was governed
by its peculiar mursa, their tumultuary council directed the public
measures of the whole nation. As late as the thirteenth century, their
transient residence on the eastern banks of the Volga was attested by
the name of Great Hungary.  In the winter, they descended with their
flocks and herds towards the mouth of that mighty river; and their
summer excursions reached as high as the latitude of Saratoff, or
perhaps the conflux of the Kama. Such at least were the recent limits of
the black Calmucks,  who remained about a century under the protection
of Russia; and who have since returned to their native seats on the
frontiers of the Chinese empire. The march, and the return, of those
wandering Tartars, whose united camp consists of fifty thousand tents or
families, illustrate the distant emigrations of the ancient Huns.

It is impossible to fill the dark interval of time, which elapsed, after
the Huns of the Volga were lost in the eyes of the Chinese, and before
they showed themselves to those of the Romans. There is some reason,
however, to apprehend, that the same force which had driven them from
their native seats, still continued to impel their march towards the
frontiers of Europe. The power of the Sienpi, their implacable enemies,
which extended above three thousand miles from East to West,  must have
gradually oppressed them by the weight and terror of a formidable
neighborhood; and the flight of the tribes of Scythia would inevitably
tend to increase the strength or to contract the territories, of the
Huns. The harsh and obscure appellations of those tribes would offend
the ear, without informing the understanding, of the reader; but I
cannot suppress the very natural suspicion, thatthe Huns of the North
derived a considerable reenforcement from the ruin of the dynasty of the
South, which, in the course of the third century, submitted to the
dominion of China; thatthe bravest warriors marched away in search of
their free and adventurous countrymen; andthat, as they had been divided
by prosperity, they were easily reunited by the common hardships of
their adverse fortune.  The Huns, with their flocks and herds, their
wives and children, their dependents and allies, were transported to the
west of the Volga, and they boldly advanced to invade the country of the
Alani, a pastoral people, who occupied, or wasted, an extensive tract of
the deserts of Scythia. The plains between the Volga and the Tanais were
covered with the tents of the Alani, but their name and manners were
diffused over the wide extent of their conquests; and the painted tribes
of the Agathyrsi and Geloni were confounded among their vassals. Towards
the North, they penetrated into the frozen regions of Siberia, among the
savages who were accustomed, in their rage or hunger, to the taste of
human flesh; and their Southern inroads were pushed as far as the
confines of Persia and India. The mixture of Somatic and German blood
had contributed to improve the features of the Alani, * to whiten their
swarthy complexions, and to tinge their hair with a yellowish cast,
which is seldom found in the Tartar race. They were less deformed in
their persons, less brutish in their manners, than the Huns; but they
did not yield to those formidable Barbarians in their martial and
independent spirit; in the love of freedom, which rejected even the use
of domestic slaves; and in the love of arms, which considered war and
rapine as the pleasure and the glory of mankind. A naked cimeter, fixed
in the ground, was the only object of their religious worship; the
scalps of their enemies formed the costly trappings of their horses; and
they viewed, with pity and contempt, the pusillanimous warriors, who
patiently expected the infirmities of age, and the tortures of lingering
disease.  On the banks of the Tanais, the military power of the Huns and
the Alani encountered each other with equal valor, but with unequal
success. The Huns prevailed in the bloody contest; the king of the Alani
was slain; and the remains of the vanquished nation were dispersed by
the ordinary alternative of flight or submission.  A colony of exiles
found a secure refuge in the mountains of Caucasus, between the Euxine
and the Caspian, where they still preserve their name and their
independence. Another colony advanced, with more intrepid courage,
towards the shores of the Baltic; associated themselves with the
Northern tribes of Germany; and shared the spoil of the Roman provinces
of Gaul and Spain. But the greatest part of the nation of the Alani
embraced the offers of an honorable and advantageous union; and the
Huns, who esteemed the valor of their less fortunate enemies, proceeded,
with an increase of numbers and confidence, to invade the limits of the
Gothic empire.

The great Hermanric, whose dominions extended from the Baltic to the
Euxine, enjoyed, in the full maturity of age and reputation, the fruit
of his victories, when he was alarmed by the formidable approach of a
host of unknown enemies,  on whom his barbarous subjects might, without
injustice, bestow the epithet of Barbarians. The numbers, the strength,
the rapid motions, and the implacable cruelty of the Huns, were felt,
and dreaded, and magnified, by the astonished Goths; who beheld their
fields and villages consumed with flames, and deluged with
indiscriminate slaughter. To these real terrors they added the surprise
and abhorrence which were excited by the shrill voice, the uncouth
gestures, and the strange deformity of the Huns. * These savages of
Scythia were compared (and the picture had some resemblance) to the
animals who walk very awkwardly on two legs and to the misshapen
figures, the Termini, which were often placed on the bridges of
antiquity. They were distinguished from the rest of the human species by
their broad shoulders, flat noses, and small black eyes, deeply buried
in the head; and as they were almost destitute of beards, they never
enjoyed either the manly grace of youth, or the venerable aspect of age.
A fabulous origin was assigned, worthy of their form and manners; that
the witches of Scythia, who, for their foul and deadly practices, had
been driven from society, had copulated in the desert with infernal
spirits; and that the Huns were the offspring of this execrable
conjunction.  The tale, so full of horror and absurdity, was greedily
embraced by the credulous hatred of the Goths; but, while it gratified
their hatred, it increased their fear, since the posterity of dæmons and
witches might be supposed to inherit some share of the præternatural
powers, as well as of the malignant temper, of their parents. Against
these enemies, Hermanric prepared to exert the united forces of the
Gothic state; but he soon discovered that his vassal tribes, provoked by
oppression, were much more inclined to second, than to repel, the
invasion of the Huns. One of the chiefs of the Roxolani  had formerly
deserted the standard of Hermanric, and the cruel tyrant had condemned
the innocent wife of the traitor to be torn asunder by wild horses. The
brothers of that unfortunate woman seized the favorable moment of
revenge. The aged king of the Goths languished some time after the
dangerous wound which he received from their daggers; but the conduct of
the war was retarded by his infirmities; and the public councils of the
nation were distracted by a spirit of jealousy and discord. His death,
which has been imputed to his own despair, left the reins of government
in the hands of Withimer, who, with the doubtful aid of some Scythian
mercenaries, maintained the unequal contest against the arms of the Huns
and the Alani, till he was defeated and slain in a decisive battle. The
Ostrogoths submitted to their fate; and the royal race of the Amali will
hereafter be found among the subjects of the haughty Attila. But the
person of Witheric, the infant king, was saved by the diligence of
Alatheus and Saphrax; two warriors of approved valor and fidelity, who,
by cautious marches, conducted the independent remains of the nation of
the Ostrogoths towards the Danastus, or Niester; a considerable river,
which now separates the Turkish dominions from the empire of Russia. On
the banks of the Niester, the prudent Athanaric, more attentive to his
own than to the general safety, had fixed the camp of the Visigoths;
with the firm resolution of opposing the victorious Barbarians, whom he
thought it less advisable to provoke. The ordinary speed of the Huns was
checked by the weight of baggage, and the encumbrance of captives; but
their military skill deceived, and almost destroyed, the army of
Athanaric. While the Judge of the Visigoths defended the banks of the
Niester, he was encompassed and attacked by a numerous detachment of
cavalry, who, by the light of the moon, had passed the river in a
fordable place; and it was not without the utmost efforts of courage and
conduct, that he was able to effect his retreat towards the hilly
country. The undaunted general had already formed a new and judicious
plan of defensive war; and the strong lines, which he was preparing to
construct between the mountains, the Pruth, and the Danube, would have
secured the extensive and fertile territory that bears the modern name
of Walachia, from the destructive inroads of the Huns.  But the hopes
and measures of the Judge of the Visigoths was soon disappointed, by the
trembling impatience of his dismayed countrymen; who were persuaded by
their fears, that the interposition of the Danube was the only barrier
that could save them from the rapid pursuit, and invincible valor, of
the Barbarians of Scythia. Under the command of Fritigern and Alavivus,
the body of the nation hastily advanced to the banks of the great river,
and implored the protection of the Roman emperor of the East. Athanaric
himself, still anxious to avoid the guilt of perjury, retired, with a
band of faithful followers, into the mountainous country of Caucaland;
which appears to have been guarded, and almost concealed, by the
impenetrable forests of Transylvania.  *

Chapter XXVI: Progress of The Huns. -- Part III.

After Valens had terminated the Gothic war with some appearance of glory
and success, he made a progress through his dominions of Asia, and at
length fixed his residence in the capital of Syria. The five years
which he spent at Antioch was employed to watch, from a secure distance,
the hostile designs of the Persian monarch; to check the depredations of
the Saracens and Isaurians;  to enforce, by arguments more prevalent
than those of reason and eloquence, the belief of the Arian theology;
and to satisfy his anxious suspicions by the promiscuous execution of
the innocent and the guilty. But the attention of the emperor was most
seriously engaged, by the important intelligence which he received from
the civil and military officers who were intrusted with the defence of
the Danube. He was informed, that the North was agitated by a furious
tempest; that the irruption of the Huns, an unknown and monstrous race
of savages, had subverted the power of the Goths; and that the suppliant
multitudes of that warlike nation, whose pride was now humbled in the
dust, covered a space of many miles along the banks of the river. With
outstretched arms, and pathetic lamentations, they loudly deplored their
past misfortunes and their present danger; acknowledged that their only
hope of safety was in the clemency of the Roman government; and most
solemnly protested, that if the gracious liberality of the emperor would
permit them to cultivate the waste lands of Thrace, they should ever
hold themselves bound, by the strongest obligations of duty and
gratitude, to obey the laws, and to guard the limits, of the republic.
These assurances were confirmed by the ambassadors of the Goths, * who
impatiently expected from the mouth of Valens an answer that must
finally determine the fate of their unhappy countrymen. The emperor of
the East was no longer guided by the wisdom and authority of his elder
brother, whose death happened towards the end of the preceding year; and
as the distressful situation of the Goths required an instant and
peremptory decision, he was deprived of the favorite resources of feeble
and timid minds, who consider the use of dilatory and ambiguous measures
as the most admirable efforts of consummate prudence. As long as the
same passions and interests subsist among mankind, the questions of war
and peace, of justice and policy, which were debated in the councils of
antiquity, will frequently present themselves as the subject of modern
deliberation. But the most experienced statesman of Europe has never
been summoned to consider the propriety, or the danger, of admitting, or
rejecting, an innumerable multitude of Barbarians, who are driven by
despair and hunger to solicit a settlement on the territories of a
civilized nation. When that important proposition, so essentially
connected with the public safety, was referred to the ministers of
Valens, they were perplexed and divided; but they soon acquiesced in the
flattering sentiment which seemed the most favorable to the pride, the
indolence, and the avarice of their sovereign. The slaves, who were
decorated with the titles of præfects and generals, dissembled or
disregarded the terrors of this national emigration; so extremely
different from the partial and accidental colonies, which had been
received on the extreme limits of the empire. But they applauded the
liberality of fortune, which had conducted, from the most distant
countries of the globe, a numerous and invincible army of strangers, to
defend the throne of Valens; who might now add to the royal treasures
the immense sums of gold supplied by the provincials to compensate their
annual proportion of recruits. The prayers of the Goths were granted,
and their service was accepted by the Imperial court: and orders were
immediately despatched to the civil and military governors of the
Thracian diocese, to make the necessary preparations for the passage and
subsistence of a great people, till a proper and sufficient territory
could be allotted for their future residence. The liberality of the
emperor was accompanied, however, with two harsh and rigorous
conditions, which prudence might justify on the side of the Romans; but
which distress alone could extort from the indignant Goths. Before they
passed the Danube, they were required to deliver their arms: and it was
insisted, that their children should be taken from them, and dispersed
through the provinces of Asia; where they might be civilized by the arts
of education, and serve as hostages to secure the fidelity of their
parents.

During the suspense of a doubtful and distant negotiation, the impatient
Goths made some rash attempts to pass the Danube, without the permission
of the government, whose protection they had implored. Their motions
were strictly observed by the vigilance of the troops which were
stationed along the river and their foremost detachments were defeated
with considerable slaughter; yet such were the timid councils of the
reign of Valens, that the brave officers who had served their country in
the execution of their duty, were punished by the loss of their
employments, and narrowly escaped the loss of their heads. The Imperial
mandate was at length received for transporting over the Danube the
whole body of the Gothic nation;  but the execution of this order was a
task of labor and difficulty. The stream of the Danube, which in those
parts is above a mile broad,  had been swelled by incessant rains; and
in this tumultuous passage, many were swept away, and drowned, by the
rapid violence of the current. A large fleet of vessels, of boats, and
of canoes, was provided; many days and nights they passed and repassed
with indefatigable toil; and the most strenuous diligence was exerted by
the officers of Valens, that not a single Barbarian, of those who were
reserved to subvert the foundations of Rome, should be left on the
opposite shore. It was thought expedient that an accurate account should
be taken of their numbers; but the persons who were employed soon
desisted, with amazement and dismay, from the prosecution of the endless
and impracticable task:  and the principal historian of the age most
seriously affirms, that the prodigious armies of Darius and Xerxes,
which had so long been considered as the fables of vain and credulous
antiquity, were now justified, in the eyes of mankind, by the evidence
of fact and experience. A probable testimony has fixed the number of the
Gothic warriors at two hundred thousand men: and if we can venture to
add the just proportion of women, of children, and of slaves, the whole
mass of people which composed this formidable emigration, must have
amounted to near a million of persons, of both sexes, and of all ages.
The children of the Goths, those at least of a distinguished rank, were
separated from the multitude. They were conducted, without delay, to the
distant seats assigned for their residence and education; and as the
numerous train of hostages or captives passed through the cities, their
gay and splendid apparel, their robust and martial figure, excited the
surprise and envy of the Provincials. * But the stipulation, the most
offensive to the Goths, and the most important to the Romans, was
shamefully eluded. The Barbarians, who considered their arms as the
ensigns of honor and the pledges of safety, were disposed to offer a
price, which the lust or avarice of the Imperial officers was easily
tempted to accept. To preserve their arms, the haughty warriors
consented, with some reluctance, to prostitute their wives or their
daughters; the charms of a beauteous maid, or a comely boy, secured the
connivance of the inspectors; who sometimes cast an eye of covetousness
on the fringed carpets and linen garments of their new allies,  or who
sacrificed their duty to the mean consideration of filling their farms
with cattle, and their houses with slaves. The Goths, with arms in their
hands, were permitted to enter the boats; and when their strength was
collected on the other side of the river, the immense camp which was
spread over the plains and the hills of the Lower Mæsia, assumed a
threatening and even hostile aspect. The leaders of the Ostrogoths,
Alatheus and Saphrax, the guardians of their infant king, appeared soon
afterwards on the Northern banks of the Danube; and immediately
despatched their ambassadors to the court of Antioch, to solicit, with
the same professions of allegiance and gratitude, the same favor which
had been granted to the suppliant Visigoths. The absolute refusal of
Valens suspended their progress, and discovered the repentance, the
suspicions, and the fears, of the Imperial council.

An undisciplined and unsettled nation of Barbarians required the firmest
temper, and the most dexterous management. The daily subsistence of near
a million of extraordinary subjects could be supplied only by constant
and skilful diligence, and might continually be interrupted by mistake
or accident. The insolence, or the indignation, of the Goths, if they
conceived themselves to be the objects either of fear or of contempt,
might urge them to the most desperate extremities; and the fortune of
the state seemed to depend on the prudence, as well as the integrity, of
the generals of Valens. At this important crisis, the military
government of Thrace was exercised by Lupicinus and Maximus, in whose
venal minds the slightest hope of private emolument outweighed every
consideration of public advantage; and whose guilt was only alleviated
by their incapacity of discerning the pernicious effects of their rash
and criminal administration. Instead of obeying the orders of their
sovereign, and satisfying, with decent liberality, the demands of the
Goths, they levied an ungenerous and oppressive tax on the wants of the
hungry Barbarians. The vilest food was sold at an extravagant price;
and, in the room of wholesome and substantial provisions, the markets
were filled with the flesh of dogs, and of unclean animals, who had died
of disease. To obtain the valuable acquisition of a pound of bread, the
Goths resigned the possession of an expensive, though serviceable,
slave; and a small quantity of meat was greedily purchased with ten
pounds of a precious, but useless metal,  when their property was
exhausted, they continued this necessary traffic by the sale of their
sons and daughters; and notwithstanding the love of freedom, which
animated every Gothic breast, they submitted to the humiliating maxim,
that it was better for their children to be maintained in a servile
condition, than to perish in a state of wretched and helpless
independence. The most lively resentment is excited by the tyranny of
pretended benefactors, who sternly exact the debt of gratitude which
they have cancelled by subsequent injuries: a spirit of discontent
insensibly arose in the camp of the Barbarians, who pleaded, without
success, the merit of their patient and dutiful behavior; and loudly
complained of the inhospitable treatment which they had received from
their new allies. They beheld around them the wealth and plenty of a
fertile province, in the midst of which they suffered the intolerable
hardships of artificial famine. But the means of relief, and even of
revenge, were in their hands; since the rapaciousness of their tyrants
had left to an injured people the possession and the use of arms. The
clamors of a multitude, untaught to disguise their sentiments, announced
the first symptoms of resistance, and alarmed the timid and guilty minds
of Lupicinus and Maximus. Those crafty ministers, who substituted the
cunning of temporary expedients to the wise and salutary counsels of
general policy, attempted to remove the Goths from their dangerous
station on the frontiers of the empire; and to disperse them, in
separate quarters of cantonment, through the interior provinces. As they
were conscious how ill they had deserved the respect, or confidence, of
the Barbarians, they diligently collected, from every side, a military
force, that might urge the tardy and reluctant march of a people, who
had not yet renounced the title, or the duties, of Roman subjects. But
the generals of Valens, while their attention was solely directed to the
discontented Visigoths, imprudently disarmed the ships and the
fortifications which constituted the defence of the Danube. The fatal
oversight was observed, and improved, by Alatheus and Saphrax, who
anxiously watched the favorable moment of escaping from the pursuit of
the Huns. By the help of such rafts and vessels as could be hastily
procured, the leaders of the Ostrogoths transported, without opposition,
their king and their army; and boldly fixed a hostile and independent
camp on the territories of the empire.

Under the name of Judges, Alavivus and Fritigern were the leaders of the
Visigoths in peace and war; and the authority which they derived from
their birth was ratified by the free consent of the nation. In a season
of tranquility, their power might have been equal, as well as their
rank; but, as soon as their countrymen were exasperated by hunger and
oppression, the superior abilities of Fritigern assumed the military
command, which he was qualified to exercise for the public welfare. He
restrained the impatient spirit of the Visigoths till the injuries and
the insults of their tyrants should justify their resistance in the
opinion of mankind: but he was not disposed to sacrifice any solid
advantages for the empty praise of justice and moderation. Sensible of
the benefits which would result from the union of the Gothic powers
under the same standard, he secretly cultivated the friendship of the
Ostrogoths; and while he professed an implicit obedience to the orders
of the Roman generals, he proceeded by slow marches towards
Marcianopolis, the capital of the Lower Mæsia, about seventy miles from
the banks of the Danube. On that fatal spot, the flames of discord and
mutual hatred burst forth into a dreadful conflagration. Lupicinus had
invited the Gothic chiefs to a splendid entertainment; and their martial
train remained under arms at the entrance of the palace. But the gates
of the city were strictly guarded, and the Barbarians were sternly
excluded from the use of a plentiful market, to which they asserted
their equal claim of subjects and allies. Their humble prayers were
rejected with insolence and derision; and as their patience was now
exhausted, the townsmen, the soldiers, and the Goths, were soon involved
in a conflict of passionate altercation and angry reproaches. A blow was
imprudently given; a sword was hastily drawn; and the first blood that
was spilt in this accidental quarrel, became the signal of a long and
destructive war. In the midst of noise and brutal intemperance,
Lupicinus was informed, by a secret messenger, that many of his soldiers
were slain, and despoiled of their arms; and as he was already inflamed
by wine, and oppressed by sleep he issued a rash command, that their
death should be revenged by the massacre of the guards of Fritigern and
Alavivus. The clamorous shouts and dying groans apprised Fritigern of
his extreme danger; and, as he possessed the calm and intrepid spirit of
a hero, he saw that he was lost if he allowed a moment of deliberation
to the man who had so deeply injured him. "A trifling dispute," said the
Gothic leader, with a firm but gentle tone of voice, "appears to have
arisen between the two nations; but it may be productive of the most
dangerous consequences, unless the tumult is immediately pacified by the
assurance of our safety, and the authority of our presence." At these
words, Fritigern and his companions drew their swords, opened their
passage through the unresisting crowd, which filled the palace, the
streets, and the gates, of Marcianopolis, and, mounting their horses,
hastily vanished from the eyes of the astonished Romans. The generals of
the Goths were saluted by the fierce and joyful acclamations of the
camp; war was instantly resolved, and the resolution was executed
without delay: the banners of the nation were displayed according to the
custom of their ancestors; and the air resounded with the harsh and
mournful music of the Barbarian trumpet.  The weak and guilty Lupicinus,
who had dared to provoke, who had neglected to destroy, and who still
presumed to despise, his formidable enemy, marched against the Goths, at
the head of such a military force as could be collected on this sudden
emergency. The Barbarians expected his approach about nine miles from
Marcianopolis; and on this occasion the talents of the general were
found to be of more prevailing efficacy than the weapons and discipline
of the troops. The valor of the Goths was so ably directed by the genius
of Fritigern, that they broke, by a close and vigorous attack, the ranks
of the Roman legions. Lupicinus left his arms and standards, his
tribunes and his bravest soldiers, on the field of battle; and their
useless courage served only to protect the ignominious flight of their
leader. "That successful day put an end to the distress of the
Barbarians, and the security of the Romans: from that day, the Goths,
renouncing the precarious condition of strangers and exiles, assumed the
character of citizens and masters, claimed an absolute dominion over the
possessors of land, and held, in their own right, the northern provinces
of the empire, which are bounded by the Danube." Such are the words of
the Gothic historian,  who celebrates, with rude eloquence, the glory of
his countrymen. But the dominion of the Barbarians was exercised only
for the purposes of rapine and destruction. As they had been deprived,
by the ministers of the emperor, of the common benefits of nature, and
the fair intercourse of social life, they retaliated the injustice on
the subjects of the empire; and the crimes of Lupicinus were expiated by
the ruin of the peaceful husbandmen of Thrace, the conflagration of
their villages, and the massacre, or captivity, of their innocent
families. The report of the Gothic victory was soon diffused over the
adjacent country; and while it filled the minds of the Romans with
terror and dismay, their own hasty imprudence contributed to increase
the forces of Fritigern, and the calamities of the province. Some time
before the great emigration, a numerous body of Goths, under the command
of Suerid and Colias, had been received into the protection and service
of the empire.  They were encamped under the walls of Hadrianople; but
the ministers of Valens were anxious to remove them beyond the
Hellespont, at a distance from the dangerous temptation which might so
easily be communicated by the neighborhood, and the success, of their
countrymen. The respectful submission with which they yielded to the
order of their march, might be considered as a proof of their fidelity;
and their moderate request of a sufficient allowance of provisions, and
of a delay of only two days was expressed in the most dutiful terms. But
the first magistrate of Hadrianople, incensed by some disorders which
had been committed at his country-house, refused this indulgence; and
arming against them the inhabitants and manufacturers of a populous
city, he urged, with hostile threats, their instant departure. The
Barbarians stood silent and amazed, till they were exasperated by the
insulting clamors, and missile weapons, of the populace: but when
patience or contempt was fatigued, they crushed the undisciplined
multitude, inflicted many a shameful wound on the backs of their flying
enemies, and despoiled them of the splendid armor,  which they were
unworthy to bear. The resemblance of their sufferings and their actions
soon united this victorious detachment to the nation of the Visigoths;
the troops of Colias and Suerid expected the approach of the great
Fritigern, ranged themselves under his standard, and signalized their
ardor in the siege of Hadrianople. But the resistance of the garrison
informed the Barbarians, that in the attack of regular fortifications,
the efforts of unskillful courage are seldom effectual. Their general
acknowledged his error, raised the siege, declared that "he was at peace
with stone walls,"  and revenged his disappointment on the adjacent
country. He accepted, with pleasure, the useful reenforcement of hardy
workmen, who labored in the gold mines of Thrace,  for the emolument,
and under the lash, of an unfeeling master:  and these new associates
conducted the Barbarians, through the secret paths, to the most
sequestered places, which had been chosen to secure the inhabitants, the
cattle, and the magazines of corn. With the assistance of such guides,
nothing could remain impervious or inaccessible; resistance was fatal;
flight was impracticable; and the patient submission of helpless
innocence seldom found mercy from the Barbarian conqueror. In the course
of these depredations, a great number of the children of the Goths, who
had been sold into captivity, were restored to the embraces of their
afflicted parents; but these tender interviews, which might have revived
and cherished in their minds some sentiments of humanity, tended only to
stimulate their native fierceness by the desire of revenge. They
listened, with eager attention, to the complaints of their captive
children, who had suffered the most cruel indignities from the lustful
or angry passions of their masters, and the same cruelties, the same
indignities, were severely retaliated on the sons and daughters of the
Romans.

The imprudence of Valens and his ministers had introduced into the heart
of the empire a nation of enemies; but the Visigoths might even yet have
been reconciled, by the manly confession of past errors, and the sincere
performance of former engagements. These healing and temperate measures
seemed to concur with the timorous disposition of the sovereign of the
East: but, on this occasion alone, Valens was brave; and his
unseasonable bravery was fatal to himself and to his subjects. He
declared his intention of marching from Antioch to Constantinople, to
subdue this dangerous rebellion; and, as he was not ignorant of the
difficulties of the enterprise, he solicited the assistance of his
nephew, the emperor Gratian, who commanded all the forces of the West.
The veteran troops were hastily recalled from the defence of Armenia;
that important frontier was abandoned to the discretion of Sapor; and
the immediate conduct of the Gothic war was intrusted, during the
absence of Valens, to his lieutenants Trajan and Profuturus, two
generals who indulged themselves in a very false and favorable opinion
of their own abilities. On their arrival in Thrace, they were joined by
Richomer, count of the domestics; and the auxiliaries of the West, that
marched under his banner, were composed of the Gallic legions, reduced
indeed, by a spirit of desertion, to the vain appearances of strength
and numbers. In a council of war, which was influenced by pride, rather
than by reason, it was resolved to seek, and to encounter, the
Barbarians, who lay encamped in the spacious and fertile meadows, near
the most southern of the six mouths of the Danube.  Their camp was
surrounded by the usual fortification of wagons;  and the Barbarians,
secure within the vast circle of the enclosure, enjoyed the fruits of
their valor, and the spoils of the province. In the midst of riotous
intemperance, the watchful Fritigern observed the motions, and
penetrated the designs, of the Romans. He perceived, that the numbers of
the enemy were continually increasing: and, as he understood their
intention of attacking his rear, as soon as the scarcity of forage
should oblige him to remove his camp, he recalled to their standard his
predatory detachments, which covered the adjacent country. As soon as
they descried the flaming beacons,  they obeyed, with incredible speed,
the signal of their leader: the camp was filled with the martial crowd
of Barbarians; their impatient clamors demanded the battle, and their
tumultuous zeal was approved and animated by the spirit of their chiefs.
The evening was already far advanced; and the two armies prepared
themselves for the approaching combat, which was deferred only till the
dawn of day. While the trumpets sounded to arms, the undaunted courage
of the Goths was confirmed by the mutual obligation of a solemn oath;
and as they advanced to meet the enemy, the rude songs, which celebrated
the glory of their forefathers, were mingled with their fierce and
dissonant outcries, and opposed to the artificial harmony of the Roman
shout. Some military skill was displayed by Fritigern to gain the
advantage of a commanding eminence; but the bloody conflict, which began
and ended with the light, was maintained on either side, by the personal
and obstinate efforts of strength, valor, and agility. The legions of
Armenia supported their fame in arms; but they were oppressed by the
irresistible weight of the hostile multitude the left wing of the Romans
was thrown into disorder and the field was strewed with their mangled
carcasses. This partial defeat was balanced, however, by partial
success; and when the two armies, at a late hour of the evening,
retreated to their respective camps, neither of them could claim the
honors, or the effects, of a decisive victory. The real loss was more
severely felt by the Romans, in proportion to the smallness of their
numbers; but the Goths were so deeply confounded and dismayed by this
vigorous, and perhaps unexpected, resistance, that they remained seven
days within the circle of their fortifications. Such funeral rites, as
the circumstances of time and place would admit, were piously discharged
to some officers of distinguished rank; but the indiscriminate vulgar
was left unburied on the plain. Their flesh was greedily devoured by the
birds of prey, who in that age enjoyed very frequent and delicious
feasts; and several years afterwards the white and naked bones, which
covered the wide extent of the fields, presented to the eyes of Ammianus
a dreadful monument of the battle of Salices.

The progress of the Goths had been checked by the doubtful event of that
bloody day; and the Imperial generals, whose army would have been
consumed by the repetition of such a contest, embraced the more rational
plan of destroying the Barbarians by the wants and pressure of their own
multitudes. They prepared to confine the Visigoths in the narrow angle
of land between the Danube, the desert of Scythia, and the mountains of
Hæmus, till their strength and spirit should be insensibly wasted by the
inevitable operation of famine. The design was prosecuted with some
conduct and success: the Barbarians had almost exhausted their own
magazines, and the harvests of the country; and the diligence of
Saturninus, the master-general of the cavalry, was employed to improve
the strength, and to contract the extent, of the Roman fortifications.
His labors were interrupted by the alarming intelligence, that new
swarms of Barbarians had passed the unguarded Danube, either to support
the cause, or to imitate the example, of Fritigern. The just
apprehension, that he himself might be surrounded, and overwhelmed, by
the arms of hostile and unknown nations, compelled Saturninus to
relinquish the siege of the Gothic camp; and the indignant Visigoths,
breaking from their confinement, satiated their hunger and revenge by
the repeated devastation of the fruitful country, which extends above
three hundred miles from the banks of the Danube to the straits of the
Hellespont.  The sagacious Fritigern had successfully appealed to the
passions, as well as to the interest, of his Barbarian allies; and the
love of rapine, and the hatred of Rome, seconded, or even prevented, the
eloquence of his ambassadors. He cemented a strict and useful alliance
with the great body of his countrymen, who obeyed Alatheus and Saphrax
as the guardians of their infant king: the long animosity of rival
tribes was suspended by the sense of their common interest; the
independent part of the nation was associated under one standard; and
the chiefs of the Ostrogoths appear to have yielded to the superior
genius of the general of the Visigoths. He obtained the formidable aid
of the Taifalæ, * whose military renown was disgraced and polluted by
the public infamy of their domestic manners. Every youth, on his
entrance into the world, was united by the ties of honorable friendship,
and brutal love, to some warrior of the tribe; nor could he hope to be
released from this unnatural connection, till he had approved his
manhood by slaying, in single combat, a huge bear, or a wild boar of the
forest.  But the most powerful auxiliaries of the Goths were drawn from
the camp of those enemies who had expelled them from their native seats.
The loose subordination, and extensive possessions, of the Huns and the
Alani, delayed the conquests, and distracted the councils, of that
victorious people. Several of the hords were allured by the liberal
promises of Fritigern; and the rapid cavalry of Scythia added weight and
energy to the steady and strenuous efforts of the Gothic infantry. The
Sarmatians, who could never forgive the successor of Valentinian,
enjoyed and increased the general confusion; and a seasonable irruption
of the Alemanni, into the provinces of Gaul, engaged the attention, and
diverted the forces, of the emperor of the West.

Chapter XXVI: Progress of The Huns. -- Part IV.

One of the most dangerous inconveniences of the introduction of the
Barbarians into the army and the palace, was sensibly felt in their
correspondence with their hostile countrymen; to whom they imprudently,
or maliciously, revealed the weakness of the Roman empire. A soldier, of
the lifeguards of Gratian, was of the nation of the Alemanni, and of the
tribe of the Lentienses, who dwelt beyond the Lake of Constance. Some
domestic business obliged him to request a leave of absence. In a short
visit to his family and friends, he was exposed to their curious
inquiries: and the vanity of the loquacious soldier tempted him to
display his intimate acquaintance with the secrets of the state, and the
designs of his master. The intelligence, that Gratian was preparing to
lead the military force of Gaul, and of the West, to the assistance of
his uncle Valens, pointed out to the restless spirit of the Alemanni the
moment, and the mode, of a successful invasion. The enterprise of some
light detachments, who, in the month of February, passed the Rhine upon
the ice, was the prelude of a more important war. The boldest hopes of
rapine, perhaps of conquest, outweighed the considerations of timid
prudence, or national faith. Every forest, and every village, poured
forth a band of hardy adventurers; and the great army of the Alemanni,
which, on their approach, was estimated at forty thousand men by the
fears of the people, was afterwards magnified to the number of seventy
thousand by the vain and credulous flattery of the Imperial court. The
legions, which had been ordered to march into Pannonia, were immediately
recalled, or detained, for the defence of Gaul; the military command was
divided between Nanienus and Mellobaudes; and the youthful emperor,
though he respected the long experience and sober wisdom of the former,
was much more inclined to admire, and to follow, the martial ardor of
his colleague; who was allowed to unite the incompatible characters of
count of the domestics, and of king of the Franks. His rival Priarius,
king of the Alemanni, was guided, or rather impelled, by the same
headstrong valor; and as their troops were animated by the spirit of
their leaders, they met, they saw, they encountered each other, near the
town of Argentaria, or Colmar,  in the plains of Alsace. The glory of
the day was justly ascribed to the missile weapons, and well-practised
evolutions, of the Roman soldiers; the Alemanni, who long maintained
their ground, were slaughtered with unrelenting fury; five thousand only
of the Barbarians escaped to the woods and mountains; and the glorious
death of their king on the field of battle saved him from the reproaches
of the people, who are always disposed to accuse the justice, or policy,
of an unsuccessful war. After this signal victory, which secured the
peace of Gaul, and asserted the honor of the Roman arms, the emperor
Gratian appeared to proceed without delay on his Eastern expedition; but
as he approached the confines of the Alemanni, he suddenly inclined to
the left, surprised them by his unexpected passage of the Rhine, and
boldly advanced into the heart of their country. The Barbarians opposed
to his progress the obstacles of nature and of courage; and still
continued to retreat, from one hill to another, till they were
satisfied, by repeated trials, of the power and perseverance of their
enemies. Their submission was accepted as a proof, not indeed of their
sincere repentance, but of their actual distress; and a select number of
their brave and robust youth was exacted from the faithless nation, as
the most substantial pledge of their future moderation. The subjects of
the empire, who had so often experienced that the Alemanni could neither
be subdued by arms, nor restrained by treaties, might not promise
themselves any solid or lasting tranquillity: but they discovered, in
the virtues of their young sovereign, the prospect of a long and
auspicious reign. When the legions climbed the mountains, and scaled the
fortifications of the Barbarians, the valor of Gratian was distinguished
in the foremost ranks; and the gilt and variegated armor of his guards
was pierced and shattered by the blows which they had received in their
constant attachment to the person of their sovereign. At the age of
nineteen, the son of Valentinian seemed to possess the talents of peace
and war; and his personal success against the Alemanni was interpreted
as a sure presage of his Gothic triumphs.

While Gratian deserved and enjoyed the applause of his subjects, the
emperor Valens, who, at length, had removed his court and army from
Antioch, was received by the people of Constantinople as the author of
the public calamity. Before he had reposed himself ten days in the
capital, he was urged by the licentious clamors of the Hippodrome to
march against the Barbarians, whom he had invited into his dominions;
and the citizens, who are always brave at a distance from any real
danger, declared, with confidence, that, if they were supplied with
arms, theyalone would undertake to deliver the province from the ravages
of an insulting foe.  The vain reproaches of an ignorant multitude
hastened the downfall of the Roman empire; they provoked the desperate
rashness of Valens; who did not find, either in his reputation or in his
mind, any motives to support with firmness the public contempt. He was
soon persuaded, by the successful achievements of his lieutenants, to
despise the power of the Goths, who, by the diligence of Fritigern, were
now collected in the neighborhood of Hadrianople. The march of the
Taifalæhad been intercepted by the valiant Frigerid: the king of those
licentious Barbarians was slain in battle; and the suppliant captives
were sent into distant exile to cultivate the lands of Italy, which were
assigned for their settlement in the vacant territories of Modena and
Parma.  The exploits of Sebastian,  who was recently engaged in the
service of Valens, and promoted to the rank of master-general of the
infantry, were still more honorable to himself, and useful to the
republic. He obtained the permission of selecting three hundred soldiers
from each of the legions; and this separate detachment soon acquired the
spirit of discipline, and the exercise of arms, which were almost
forgotten under the reign of Valens. By the vigor and conduct of
Sebastian, a large body of the Goths were surprised in their camp; and
the immense spoil, which was recovered from their hands, filled the city
of Hadrianople, and the adjacent plain. The splendid narratives, which
the general transmitted of his own exploits, alarmed the Imperial court
by the appearance of superior merit; and though he cautiously insisted
on the difficulties of the Gothic war, his valor was praised, his advice
was rejected; and Valens, who listened with pride and pleasure to the
flattering suggestions of the eunuchs of the palace, was impatient to
seize the glory of an easy and assured conquest. His army was
strengthened by a numerous reenforcement of veterans; and his march from
Constantinople to Hadrianople was conducted with so much military skill,
that he prevented the activity of the Barbarians, who designed to occupy
the intermediate defiles, and to intercept either the troops themselves,
or their convoys of provisions. The camp of Valens, which he pitched
under the walls of Hadrianople, was fortified, according to the practice
of the Romans, with a ditch and rampart; and a most important council
was summoned, to decide the fate of the emperor and of the empire. The
party of reason and of delay was strenuously maintained by Victor, who
had corrected, by the lessons of experience, the native fierceness of
the Sarmatian character; while Sebastian, with the flexible and
obsequious eloquence of a courtier, represented every precaution, and
every measure, that implied a doubt of immediate victory, as unworthy of
the courage and majesty of their invincible monarch. The ruin of Valens
was precipitated by the deceitful arts of Fritigern, and the prudent
admonitions of the emperor of the West. The advantages of negotiating in
the midst of war were perfectly understood by the general of the
Barbarians; and a Christian ecclesiastic was despatched, as the holy
minister of peace, to penetrate, and to perplex, the councils of the
enemy. The misfortunes, as well as the provocations, of the Gothic
nation, were forcibly and truly described by their ambassador; who
protested, in the name of Fritigern, that he was still disposed to lay
down his arms, or to employ them only in the defence of the empire; if
he could secure for his wandering countrymen a tranquil settlement on
the waste lands of Thrace, and a sufficient allowance of corn and
cattle. But he added, in a whisper of confidential friendship, that the
exasperated Barbarians were averse to these reasonable conditions; and
that Fritigern was doubtful whether he could accomplish the conclusion
of the treaty, unless he found himself supported by the presence and
terrors of an Imperial army. About the same time, Count Richomer
returned from the West to announce the defeat and submission of the
Alemanni, to inform Valens that his nephew advanced by rapid marches at
the head of the veteran and victorious legions of Gaul, and to request,
in the name of Gratian and of the republic, that every dangerous and
decisive measure might be suspended, till the junction of the two
emperors should insure the success of the Gothic war. But the feeble
sovereign of the East was actuated only by the fatal illusions of pride
and jealousy. He disdained the importunate advice; he rejected the
humiliating aid; he secretly compared the ignominious, at least the
inglorious, period of his own reign, with the fame of a beardless youth;
and Valens rushed into the field, to erect his imaginary trophy, before
the diligence of his colleague could usurp any share of the triumphs of
the day.

On the ninth of August, a day which has deserved to be marked among the
most inauspicious of the Roman Calendar,  the emperor Valens, leaving,
under a strong guard, his baggage and military treasure, marched from
Hadrianople to attack the Goths, who were encamped about twelve miles
from the city.  By some mistake of the orders, or some ignorance of the
ground, the right wing, or column of cavalry arrived in sight of the
enemy, whilst the left was still at a considerable distance; the
soldiers were compelled, in the sultry heat of summer, to precipitate
their pace; and the line of battle was formed with tedious confusion and
irregular delay. The Gothic cavalry had been detached to forage in the
adjacent country; and Fritigern still continued to practise his
customary arts. He despatched messengers of peace, made proposals,
required hostages, and wasted the hours, till the Romans, exposed
without shelter to the burning rays of the sun, were exhausted by
thirst, hunger, and intolerable fatigue. The emperor was persuaded to
send an ambassador to the Gothic camp; the zeal of Richomer, who alone
had courage to accept the dangerous commission, was applauded; and the
count of the domestics, adorned with the splendid ensigns of his
dignity, had proceeded some way in the space between the two armies,
when he was suddenly recalled by the alarm of battle. The hasty and
imprudent attack was made by Bacurius the Iberian, who commanded a body
of archers and targiteers; and as they advanced with rashness, they
retreated with loss and disgrace. In the same moment, the flying
squadrons of Alatheus and Saphrax, whose return was anxiously expected
by the general of the Goths, descended like a whirlwind from the hills,
swept across the plain, and added new terrors to the tumultuous, but
irresistible charge of the Barbarian host. The event of the battle of
Hadrianople, so fatal to Valens and to the empire, may be described in a
few words: the Roman cavalry fled; the infantry was abandoned,
surrounded, and cut in pieces. The most skilful evolutions, the firmest
courage, are scarcely sufficient to extricate a body of foot,
encompassed, on an open plain, by superior numbers of horse; but the
troops of Valens, oppressed by the weight of the enemy and their own
fears, were crowded into a narrow space, where it was impossible for
them to extend their ranks, or even to use, with effect, their swords
and javelins. In the midst of tumult, of slaughter, and of dismay, the
emperor, deserted by his guards and wounded, as it was supposed, with an
arrow, sought protection among the Lancearii and the Mattiarii, who
still maintained their ground with some appearance of order and
firmness. His faithful generals, Trajan and Victor, who perceived his
danger, loudly exclaimed that all was lost, unless the person of the
emperor could be saved. Some troops, animated by their exhortation,
advanced to his relief: they found only a bloody spot, covered with a
heap of broken arms and mangled bodies, without being able to discover
their unfortunate prince, either among the living or the dead. Their
search could not indeed be successful, if there is any truth in the
circumstances with which some historians have related the death of the
emperor. By the care of his attendants, Valens was removed from the
field of battle to a neighboring cottage, where they attempted to dress
his wound, and to provide for his future safety. But this humble retreat
was instantly surrounded by the enemy: they tried to force the door,
they were provoked by a discharge of arrows from the roof, till at
length, impatient of delay, they set fire to a pile of dry fagots, and
consumed the cottage with the Roman emperor and his train. Valens
perished in the flames; and a youth, who dropped from the window, alone
escaped, to attest the melancholy tale, and to inform the Goths of the
inestimable prize which they had lost by their own rashness. A great
number of brave and distinguished officers perished in the battle of
Hadrianople, which equalled in the actual loss, and far surpassed in the
fatal consequences, the misfortune which Rome had formerly sustained in
the fields of Cannæ.  Two master-generals of the cavalry and infantry,
two great officers of the palace, and thirty-five tribunes, were found
among the slain; and the death of Sebastian might satisfy the world,
that he was the victim, as well as the author, of the public calamity.
Above two thirds of the Roman army were destroyed: and the darkness of
the night was esteemed a very favorable circumstance, as it served to
conceal the flight of the multitude, and to protect the more orderly
retreat of Victor and Richomer, who alone, amidst the general
consternation, maintained the advantage of calm courage and regular
discipline.

While the impressions of grief and terror were still recent in the minds
of men, the most celebrated rhetorician of the age composed the funeral
oration of a vanquished army, and of an unpopular prince, whose throne
was already occupied by a stranger. "There are not wanting," says the
candid Libanius, "those who arraign the prudence of the emperor, or who
impute the public misfortune to the want of courage and discipline in
the troops. For my own part, I reverence the memory of their former
exploits: I reverence the glorious death, which they bravely received,
standing, and fighting in their ranks: I reverence the field of battle,
stained with their blood, and the blood of the Barbarians. Those
honorable marks have been already washed away by the rains; but the
lofty monuments of their bones, the bones of generals, of centurions,
and of valiant warriors, claim a longer period of duration. The king
himself fought and fell in the foremost ranks of the battle. His
attendants presented him with the fleetest horses of the Imperial
stable, that would soon have carried him beyond the pursuit of the
enemy. They vainly pressed him to reserve his important life for the
future service of the republic. He still declared that he was unworthy
to survive so many of the bravest and most faithful of his subjects; and
the monarch was nobly buried under a mountain of the slain. Let none,
therefore, presume to ascribe the victory of the Barbarians to the fear,
the weakness, or the imprudence, of the Roman troops. The chiefs and the
soldiers were animated by the virtue of their ancestors, whom they
equalled in discipline and the arts of war. Their generous emulation was
supported by the love of glory, which prompted them to contend at the
same time with heat and thirst, with fire and the sword; and cheerfully
to embrace an honorable death, as their refuge against flight and
infamy. The indignation of the gods has been the only cause of the
success of our enemies." The truth of history may disclaim some parts of
this panegyric, which cannot strictly be reconciled with the character
of Valens, or the circumstances of the battle: but the fairest
commendation is due to the eloquence, and still more to the generosity,
of the sophist of Antioch.

The pride of the Goths was elated by this memorable victory; but their
avarice was disappointed by the mortifying discovery, that the richest
part of the Imperial spoil had been within the walls of Hadrianople.
They hastened to possess the reward of their valor; but they were
encountered by the remains of a vanquished army, with an intrepid
resolution, which was the effect of their despair, and the only hope of
their safety. The walls of the city, and the ramparts of the adjacent
camp, were lined with military engines, that threw stones of an enormous
weight; and astonished the ignorant Barbarians by the noise, and
velocity, still more than by the real effects, of the discharge. The
soldiers, the citizens, the provincials, the domestics of the palace,
were united in the danger, and in the defence: the furious assault of
the Goths was repulsed; their secret arts of treachery and treason were
discovered; and, after an obstinate conflict of many hours, they retired
to their tents; convinced, by experience, that it would be far more
advisable to observe the treaty, which their sagacious leader had
tacitly stipulated with the fortifications of great and populous cities.
After the hasty and impolitic massacre of three hundred deserters, an
act of justice extremely useful to the discipline of the Roman armies,
the Goths indignantly raised the siege of Hadrianople. The scene of war
and tumult was instantly converted into a silent solitude: the multitude
suddenly disappeared; the secret paths of the woods and mountains were
marked with the footsteps of the trembling fugitives, who sought a
refuge in the distant cities of Illyricum and Macedonia; and the
faithful officers of the household, and the treasury, cautiously
proceeded in search of the emperor, of whose death they were still
ignorant. The tide of the Gothic inundation rolled from the walls of
Hadrianople to the suburbs of Constantinople. The Barbarians were
surprised with the splendid appearance of the capital of the East, the
height and extent of the walls, the myriads of wealthy and affrighted
citizens who crowded the ramparts, and the various prospect of the sea
and land. While they gazed with hopeless desire on the inaccessible
beauties of Constantinople, a sally was made from one of the gates by a
party of Saracens,  who had been fortunately engaged in the service of
Valens. The cavalry of Scythia was forced to yield to the admirable
swiftness and spirit of the Arabian horses: their riders were skilled in
the evolutions of irregular war; and the Northern Barbarians were
astonished and dismayed, by the inhuman ferocity of the Barbarians of
the South. A Gothic soldier was slain by the dagger of an Arab; and the
hairy, naked savage, applying his lips to the wound, expressed a horrid
delight, while he sucked the blood of his vanquished enemy.  The army of
the Goths, laden with the spoils of the wealthy suburbs and the adjacent
territory, slowly moved, from the Bosphorus, to the mountains which form
the western boundary of Thrace. The important pass of Succi was betrayed
by the fear, or the misconduct, of Maurus; and the Barbarians, who no
longer had any resistance to apprehend from the scattered and vanquished
troops of the East, spread themselves over the face of a fertile and
cultivated country, as far as the confines of Italy and the Hadriatic
Sea.

The Romans, who so coolly, and so concisely, mention the acts of
justicewhich were exercised by the legions,  reserve their compassion,
and their eloquence, for their own sufferings, when the provinces were
invaded, and desolated, by the arms of the successful Barbarians. The
simple circumstantial narrative (did such a narrative exist) of the ruin
of a single town, of the misfortunes of a single family,  might exhibit
an interesting and instructive picture of human manners: but the tedious
repetition of vague and declamatory complaints would fatigue the
attention of the most patient reader. The same censure may be applied,
though not perhaps in an equal degree, to the profane, and the
ecclesiastical, writers of this unhappy period; that their minds were
inflamed by popular and religious animosity; and that the true size and
color of every object is falsified by the exaggerations of their corrupt
eloquence. The vehement Jerom  might justly deplore the calamities
inflicted by the Goths, and their barbarous allies, on his native
country of Pannonia, and the wide extent of the provinces, from the
walls of Constantinople to the foot of the Julian Alps; the rapes, the
massacres, the conflagrations; and, above all, the profanation of the
churches, that were turned into stables, and the contemptuous treatment
of the relics of holy martyrs. But the Saint is surely transported
beyond the limits of nature and history, when he affirms, "that, in
those desert countries, nothing was left except the sky and the earth;
that, after the destruction of the cities, and the extirpation of the
human race, the land was overgrown with thick forests and inextricable
brambles; and that the universal desolation, announced by the prophet
Zephaniah, was accomplished, in the scarcity of the beasts, the birds,
and even of the fish." These complaints were pronounced about twenty
years after the death of Valens; and the Illyrian provinces, which were
constantly exposed to the invasion and passage of the Barbarians, still
continued, after a calamitous period of ten centuries, to supply new
materials for rapine and destruction. Could it even be supposed, that a
large tract of country had been left without cultivation and without
inhabitants, the consequences might not have been so fatal to the
inferior productions of animated nature. The useful and feeble animals,
which are nourished by the hand of man, might suffer and perish, if they
were deprived of his protection; but the beasts of the forest, his
enemies or his victims, would multiply in the free and undisturbed
possession of their solitary domain. The various tribes that people the
air, or the waters, are still less connected with the fate of the human
species; and it is highly probable that the fish of the Danube would
have felt more terror and distress, from the approach of a voracious
pike, than from the hostile inroad of a Gothic army.

Chapter XXVI: Progress of The Huns. -- Part V.

Whatever may have been the just measure of the calamities of Europe,
there was reason to fear that the same calamities would soon extend to
the peaceful countries of Asia. The sons of the Goths had been
judiciously distributed through the cities of the East; and the arts of
education were employed to polish, and subdue, the native fierceness of
their temper. In the space of about twelve years, their numbers had
continually increased; and the children, who, in the first emigration,
were sent over the Hellespont, had attained, with rapid growth, the
strength and spirit of perfect manhood.  It was impossible to conceal
from their knowledge the events of the Gothic war; and, as those daring
youths had not studied the language of dissimulation, they betrayed
their wish, their desire, perhaps their intention, to emulate the
glorious example of their fathers The danger of the times seemed to
justify the jealous suspicions of the provincials; and these suspicions
were admitted as unquestionable evidence, that the Goths of Asia had
formed a secret and dangerous conspiracy against the public safety. The
death of Valens had left the East without a sovereign; and Julius, who
filled the important station of master-general of the troops, with a
high reputation of diligence and ability, thought it his duty to consult
the senate of Constantinople; which he considered, during the vacancy of
the throne, as the representative council of the nation. As soon as he
had obtained the discretionary power of acting as he should judge most
expedient for the good of the republic, he assembled the principal
officers, and privately concerted effectual measures for the execution
of his bloody design. An order was immediately promulgated, that, on a
stated day, the Gothic youth should assemble in the capital cities of
their respective provinces; and, as a report was industriously
circulated, that they were summoned to receive a liberal gift of lands
and money, the pleasing hope allayed the fury of their resentment, and,
perhaps, suspended the motions of the conspiracy. On the appointed day,
the unarmed crowd of the Gothic youth was carefully collected in the
square or Forum; the streets and avenues were occupied by the Roman
troops, and the roofs of the houses were covered with archers and
slingers. At the same hour, in all the cities of the East, the signal
was given of indiscriminate slaughter; and the provinces of Asia were
delivered by the cruel prudence of Julius, from a domestic enemy, who,
in a few months, might have carried fire and sword from the Hellespont
to the Euphrates.  The urgent consideration of the public safety may
undoubtedly authorize the violation of every positive law. How far that,
or any other, consideration may operate to dissolve the natural
obligations of humanity and justice, is a doctrine of which I still
desire to remain ignorant.

The emperor Gratian was far advanced on his march towards the plains of
Hadrianople, when he was informed, at first by the confused voice of
fame, and afterwards by the more accurate reports of Victor and
Richomer, that his impatient colleague had been slain in battle, and
that two thirds of the Roman army were exterminated by the sword of the
victorious Goths. Whatever resentment the rash and jealous vanity of his
uncle might deserve, the resentment of a generous mind is easily subdued
by the softer emotions of grief and compassion; and even the sense of
pity was soon lost in the serious and alarming consideration of the
state of the republic. Gratian was too late to assist, he was too weak
to revenge, his unfortunate colleague; and the valiant and modest youth
felt himself unequal to the support of a sinking world. A formidable
tempest of the Barbarians of Germany seemed ready to burst over the
provinces of Gaul; and the mind of Gratian was oppressed and distracted
by the administration of the Western empire. In this important crisis,
the government of the East, and the conduct of the Gothic war, required
the undivided attention of a hero and a statesman. A subject invested
with such ample command would not long have preserved his fidelity to a
distant benefactor; and the Imperial council embraced the wise and manly
resolution of conferring an obligation, rather than of yielding to an
insult. It was the wish of Gratian to bestow the purple as the reward of
virtue; but, at the age of nineteen, it is not easy for a prince,
educated in the supreme rank, to understand the true characters of his
ministers and generals. He attempted to weigh, with an impartial hand,
their various merits and defects; and, whilst he checked the rash
confidence of ambition, he distrusted the cautious wisdom which
despaired of the republic. As each moment of delay diminished something
of the power and resources of the future sovereign of the East, the
situation of the times would not allow a tedious debate. The choice of
Gratian was soon declared in favor of an exile, whose father, only three
years before, had suffered, under the sanction of hisauthority, an
unjust and ignominious death. The great Theodosius, a name celebrated in
history, and dear to the Catholic church,  was summoned to the Imperial
court, which had gradually retreated from the confines of Thrace to the
more secure station of Sirmium. Five months after the death of Valens,
the emperor Gratian produced before the assembled troops hiscolleague
and theirmaster; who, after a modest, perhaps a sincere, resistance, was
compelled to accept, amidst the general acclamations, the diadem, the
purple, and the equal title of Augustus.  The provinces of Thrace, Asia,
and Egypt, over which Valens had reigned, were resigned to the
administration of the new emperor; but, as he was specially intrusted
with the conduct of the Gothic war, the Illyrian præfecture was
dismembered; and the two great dioceses of Dacia and Macedonia were
added to the dominions of the Eastern empire.

The same province, and perhaps the same city,  which had given to the
throne the virtues of Trajan, and the talents of Hadrian, was the
original seat of another family of Spaniards, who, in a less fortunate
age, possessed, near fourscore years, the declining empire of Rome.
They emerged from the obscurity of municipal honors by the active spirit
of the elder Theodosius, a general whose exploits in Britain and Africa
have formed one of the most splendid parts of the annals of Valentinian.
The son of that general, who likewise bore the name of Theodosius, was
educated, by skilful preceptors, in the liberal studies of youth; but he
was instructed in the art of war by the tender care and severe
discipline of his father.  Under the standard of such a leader, young
Theodosius sought glory and knowledge, in the most distant scenes of
military action; inured his constitution to the difference of seasons
and climates; distinguished his valor by sea and land; and observed the
various warfare of the Scots, the Saxons, and the Moors. His own merit,
and the recommendation of the conqueror of Africa, soon raised him to a
separate command; and, in the station of Duke of Mæsia, he vanquished an
army of Sarmatians; saved the province; deserved the love of the
soldiers; and provoked the envy of the court.  His rising fortunes were
soon blasted by the disgrace and execution of his illustrious father;
and Theodosius obtained, as a favor, the permission of retiring to a
private life in his native province of Spain. He displayed a firm and
temperate character in the ease with which he adapted himself to this
new situation. His time was almost equally divided between the town and
country; the spirit, which had animated his public conduct, was shown in
the active and affectionate performance of every social duty; and the
diligence of the soldier was profitably converted to the improvement of
his ample patrimony,  which lay between Valladolid and Segovia, in the
midst of a fruitful district, still famous for a most exquisite breed of
sheep.  From the innocent, but humble labors of his farm, Theodosius was
transported, in less than four months, to the throne of the Eastern
empire; and the whole period of the history of the world will not
perhaps afford a similar example, of an elevation at the same time so
pure and so honorable. The princes who peaceably inherit the sceptre of
their fathers, claim and enjoy a legal right, the more secure as it is
absolutely distinct from the merits of their personal characters. The
subjects, who, in a monarchy, or a popular state, acquire the possession
of supreme power, may have raised themselves, by the superiority either
of genius or virtue, above the heads of their equals; but their virtue
is seldom exempt from ambition; and the cause of the successful
candidate is frequently stained by the guilt of conspiracy, or civil
war. Even in those governments which allow the reigning monarch to
declare a colleague or a successor, his partial choice, which may be
influenced by the blindest passions, is often directed to an unworthy
object But the most suspicious malignity cannot ascribe to Theodosius,
in his obscure solitude of Caucha, the arts, the desires, or even the
hopes, of an ambitious statesman; and the name of the Exile would long
since have been forgotten, if his genuine and distinguished virtues had
not left a deep impression in the Imperial court. During the season of
prosperity, he had been neglected; but, in the public distress, his
superior merit was universally felt and acknowledged. What confidence
must have been reposed in his integrity, since Gratian could trust, that
a pious son would forgive, for the sake of the republic, the murder of
his father! What expectations must have been formed of his abilities to
encourage the hope, that a single man could save, and restore, the
empire of the East! Theodosius was invested with the purple in the
thirty-third year of his age. The vulgar gazed with admiration on the
manly beauty of his face, and the graceful majesty of his person, which
they were pleased to compare with the pictures and medals of the emperor
Trajan; whilst intelligent observers discovered, in the qualities of his
heart and understanding, a more important resemblance to the best and
greatest of the Roman princes.

It is not without the most sincere regret, that I must now take leave of
an accurate and faithful guide, who has composed the history of his own
times, without indulging the prejudices and passions, which usually
affect the mind of a contemporary. Ammianus Marcellinus, who terminates
his useful work with the defeat and death of Valens, recommends the more
glorious subject of the ensuing reign to the youthful vigor and
eloquence of the rising generation.  The rising generation was not
disposed to accept his advice or to imitate his example;  and, in the
study of the reign of Theodosius, we are reduced to illustrate the
partial narrative of Zosimus, by the obscure hints of fragments and
chronicles, by the figurative style of poetry or panegyric, and by the
precarious assistance of the ecclesiastical writers, who, in the heat of
religious faction, are apt to despise the profane virtues of sincerity
and moderation. Conscious of these disadvantages, which will continue to
involve a considerable portion of the decline and fall of the Roman
empire, I shall proceed with doubtful and timorous steps. Yet I may
boldly pronounce, that the battle of Hadrianople was never revenged by
any signal or decisive victory of Theodosius over the Barbarians: and
the expressive silence of his venal orators may be confirmed by the
observation of the condition and circumstances of the times. The fabric
of a mighty state, which has been reared by the labors of successive
ages, could not be overturned by the misfortune of a single day, if the
fatal power of the imagination did not exaggerate the real measure of
the calamity. The loss of forty thousand Romans, who fell in the plains
of Hadrianople, might have been soon recruited in the populous provinces
of the East, which contained so many millions of inhabitants. The
courage of a soldier is found to be the cheapest, and most common,
quality of human nature; and sufficient skill to encounter an
undisciplined foe might have been speedily taught by the care of the
surviving centurions. If the Barbarians were mounted on the horses, and
equipped with the armor, of their vanquished enemies, the numerous studs
of Cappadocia and Spain would have supplied new squadrons of cavalry;
the thirty-four arsenals of the empire were plentifully stored with
magazines of offensive and defensive arms: and the wealth of Asia might
still have yielded an ample fund for the expenses of the war. But the
effects which were produced by the battle of Hadrianople on the minds of
the Barbarians and of the Romans, extended the victory of the former,
and the defeat of the latter, far beyond the limits of a single day. A
Gothic chief was heard to declare, with insolent moderation, that, for
his own part, he was fatigued with slaughter: but that he was astonished
how a people, who fled before him like a flock of sheep, could still
presume to dispute the possession of their treasures and provinces.  The
same terrors which the name of the Huns had spread among the Gothic
tribes, were inspired, by the formidable name of the Goths, among the
subjects and soldiers of the Roman empire.  If Theodosius, hastily
collecting his scattered forces, had led them into the field to
encounter a victorious enemy, his army would have been vanquished by
their own fears; and his rashness could not have been excused by the
chance of success. But the greatTheodosius, an epithet which he
honorably deserved on this momentous occasion, conducted himself as the
firm and faithful guardian of the republic. He fixed his head-quarters
at Thessalonica, the capital of the Macedonian diocese;  from whence he
could watch the irregular motions of the Barbarians, and direct the
operations of his lieutenants, from the gates of Constantinople to the
shores of the Hadriatic. The fortifications and garrisons of the cities
were strengthened; and the troops, among whom a sense of order and
discipline was revived, were insensibly emboldened by the confidence of
their own safety. From these secure stations, they were encouraged to
make frequent sallies on the Barbarians, who infested the adjacent
country; and, as they were seldom allowed to engage, without some
decisive superiority, either of ground or of numbers, their enterprises
were, for the most part, successful; and they were soon convinced, by
their own experience, of the possibility of vanquishing their
invincibleenemies. The detachments of these separate garrisons were
generally united into small armies; the same cautious measures were
pursued, according to an extensive and well-concerted plan of
operations; the events of each day added strength and spirit to the
Roman arms; and the artful diligence of the emperor, who circulated the
most favorable reports of the success of the war, contributed to subdue
the pride of the Barbarians, and to animate the hopes and courage of his
subjects. If, instead of this faint and imperfect outline, we could
accurately represent the counsels and actions of Theodosius, in four
successive campaigns, there is reason to believe, that his consummate
skill would deserve the applause of every military reader. The republic
had formerly been saved by the delays of Fabius; and, while the splendid
trophies of Scipio, in the field of Zama, attract the eyes of posterity,
the camps and marches of the dictator among the hills of the Campania,
may claim a juster proportion of the solid and independent fame, which
the general is not compelled to share, either with fortune or with his
troops. Such was likewise the merit of Theodosius; and the infirmities
of his body, which most unseasonably languished under a long and
dangerous disease, could not oppress the vigor of his mind, or divert
his attention from the public service.

The deliverance and peace of the Roman provinces  was the work of
prudence, rather than of valor: the prudence of Theodosius was seconded
by fortune: and the emperor never failed to seize, and to improve, every
favorable circumstance. As long as the superior genius of Fritigern
preserved the union, and directed the motions of the Barbarians, their
power was not inadequate to the conquest of a great empire. The death of
that hero, the predecessor and master of the renowned Alaric, relieved
an impatient multitude from the intolerable yoke of discipline and
discretion. The Barbarians, who had been restrained by his authority,
abandoned themselves to the dictates of their passions; and their
passions were seldom uniform or consistent. An army of conquerors was
broken into many disorderly bands of savage robbers; and their blind and
irregular fury was not less pernicious to themselves, than to their
enemies. Their mischievous disposition was shown in the destruction of
every object which they wanted strength to remove, or taste to enjoy;
and they often consumed, with improvident rage, the harvests, or the
granaries, which soon afterwards became necessary for their own
subsistence. A spirit of discord arose among the independent tribes and
nations, which had been united only by the bands of a loose and
voluntary alliance. The troops of the Huns and the Alani would naturally
upbraid the flight of the Goths; who were not disposed to use with
moderation the advantages of their fortune; the ancient jealousy of the
Ostrogoths and the Visigoths could not long be suspended; and the
haughty chiefs still remembered the insults and injuries, which they had
reciprocally offered, or sustained, while the nation was seated in the
countries beyond the Danube. The progress of domestic faction abated the
more diffusive sentiment of national animosity; and the officers of
Theodosius were instructed to purchase, with liberal gifts and promises,
the retreat or service of the discontented party. The acquisition of
Modar, a prince of the royal blood of the Amali, gave a bold and
faithful champion to the cause of Rome. The illustrious deserter soon
obtained the rank of master-general, with an important command;
surprised an army of his countrymen, who were immersed in wine and
sleep; and, after a cruel slaughter of the astonished Goths, returned
with an immense spoil, and four thousand wagons, to the Imperial camp.
In the hands of a skilful politician, the most different means may be
successfully applied to the same ends; and the peace of the empire,
which had been forwarded by the divisions, was accomplished by the
reunion, of the Gothic nation. Athanaric, who had been a patient
spectator of these extraordinary events, was at length driven, by the
chance of arms, from the dark recesses of the woods of Caucaland. He no
longer hesitated to pass the Danube; and a very considerable part of the
subjects of Fritigern, who already felt the inconveniences of anarchy,
were easily persuaded to acknowledge for their king a Gothic Judge,
whose birth they respected, and whose abilities they had frequently
experienced. But age had chilled the daring spirit of Athanaric; and,
instead of leading his people to the field of battle and victory, he
wisely listened to the fair proposal of an honorable and advantageous
treaty. Theodosius, who was acquainted with the merit and power of his
new ally, condescended to meet him at the distance of several miles from
Constantinople; and entertained him in the Imperial city, with the
confidence of a friend, and the magnificence of a monarch. "The
Barbarian prince observed, with curious attention, the variety of
objects which attracted his notice, and at last broke out into a sincere
and passionate exclamation of wonder. I now behold (said he) what I
never could believe, the glories of this stupendous capital! And as he
cast his eyes around, he viewed, and he admired, the commanding
situation of the city, the strength and beauty of the walls and public
edifices, the capacious harbor, crowded with innumerable vessels, the
perpetual concourse of distant nations, and the arms and discipline of
the troops. Indeed, (continued Athanaric,) the emperor of the Romans is
a god upon earth; and the presumptuous man, who dares to lift his hand
against him, is guilty of his own blood."  The Gothic king did not long
enjoy this splendid and honorable reception; and, as temperance was not
the virtue of his nation, it may justly be suspected, that his mortal
disease was contracted amidst the pleasures of the Imperial banquets.
But the policy of Theodosius derived more solid benefit from the death,
than he could have expected from the most faithful services, of his
ally. The funeral of Athanaric was performed with solemn rites in the
capital of the East; a stately monument was erected to his memory; and
his whole army, won by the liberal courtesy, and decent grief, of
Theodosius, enlisted under the standard of the Roman empire.  The
submission of so great a body of the Visigoths was productive of the
most salutary consequences; and the mixed influence of force, of reason,
and of corruption, became every day more powerful, and more extensive.
Each independent chieftain hastened to obtain a separate treaty, from
the apprehension that an obstinate delay might expose him, alone and
unprotected, to the revenge, or justice, of the conqueror. The general,
or rather the final, capitulation of the Goths, may be dated four years,
one month, and twenty-five days, after the defeat and death of the
emperor Valens.

The provinces of the Danube had been already relieved from the
oppressive weight of the Gruthungi, or Ostrogoths, by the voluntary
retreat of Alatheus and Saphrax, whose restless spirit had prompted them
to seek new scenes of rapine and glory. Their destructive course was
pointed towards the West; but we must be satisfied with a very obscure
and imperfect knowledge of their various adventures. The Ostrogoths
impelled several of the German tribes on the provinces of Gaul;
concluded, and soon violated, a treaty with the emperor Gratian;
advanced into the unknown countries of the North; and, after an interval
of more than four years, returned, with accumulated force, to the banks
of the Lower Danube. Their troops were recruited with the fiercest
warriors of Germany and Scythia; and the soldiers, or at least the
historians, of the empire, no longer recognized the name and
countenances of their former enemies.  The general who commanded the
military and naval powers of the Thracian frontier, soon perceived that
his superiority would be disadvantageous to the public service; and that
the Barbarians, awed by the presence of his fleet and legions, would
probably defer the passage of the river till the approaching winter. The
dexterity of the spies, whom he sent into the Gothic camp, allured the
Barbarians into a fatal snare. They were persuaded that, by a bold
attempt, they might surprise, in the silence and darkness of the night,
the sleeping army of the Romans; and the whole multitude was hastily
embarked in a fleet of three thousand canoes.  The bravest of the
Ostrogoths led the van; the main body consisted of the remainder of
their subjects and soldiers; and the women and children securely
followed in the rear. One of the nights without a moon had been selected
for the execution of their design; and they had almost reached the
southern bank of the Danube, in the firm confidence that they should
find an easy landing and an unguarded camp. But the progress of the
Barbarians was suddenly stopped by an unexpected obstacle a triple line
of vessels, strongly connected with each other, and which formed an
impenetrable chain of two miles and a half along the river. While they
struggled to force their way in the unequal conflict, their right flank
was overwhelmed by the irresistible attack of a fleet of galleys, which
were urged down the stream by the united impulse of oars and of the
tide. The weight and velocity of those ships of war broke, and sunk, and
dispersed, the rude and feeble canoes of the Barbarians; their valor was
ineffectual; and Alatheus, the king, or general, of the Ostrogoths,
perished with his bravest troops, either by the sword of the Romans, or
in the waves of the Danube. The last division of this unfortunate fleet
might regain the opposite shore; but the distress and disorder of the
multitude rendered them alike incapable, either of action or counsel;
and they soon implored the clemency of the victorious enemy. On this
occasion, as well as on many others, it is a difficult task to reconcile
the passions and prejudices of the writers of the age of Theodosius. The
partial and malignant historian, who misrepresents every action of his
reign, affirms, that the emperor did not appear in the field of battle
till the Barbarians had been vanquished by the valor and conduct of his
lieutenant Promotus.  The flattering poet, who celebrated, in the court
of Honorius, the glory of the father and of the son, ascribes the
victory to the personal prowess of Theodosius; and almost insinuates,
that the king of the Ostrogoths was slain by the hand of the emperor.
The truth of history might perhaps be found in a just medium between
these extreme and contradictory assertions.

The original treaty which fixed the settlement of the Goths, ascertained
their privileges, and stipulated their obligations, would illustrate the
history of Theodosius and his successors. The series of their history
has imperfectly preserved the spirit and substance of this single
agreement.  The ravages of war and tyranny had provided many large
tracts of fertile but uncultivated land for the use of those Barbarians
who might not disdain the practice of agriculture. A numerous colony of
the Visigoths was seated in Thrace; the remains of the Ostrogoths were
planted in Phrygia and Lydia; their immediate wants were supplied by a
distribution of corn and cattle; and their future industry was
encouraged by an exemption from tribute, during a certain term of years.
The Barbarians would have deserved to feel the cruel and perfidious
policy of the Imperial court, if they had suffered themselves to be
dispersed through the provinces. They required, and they obtained, the
sole possession of the villages and districts assigned for their
residence; they still cherished and propagated their native manners and
language; asserted, in the bosom of despotism, the freedom of their
domestic government; and acknowledged the sovereignty of the emperor,
without submitting to the inferior jurisdiction of the laws and
magistrates of Rome. The hereditary chiefs of the tribes and families
were still permitted to command their followers in peace and war; but
the royal dignity was abolished; and the generals of the Goths were
appointed and removed at the pleasure of the emperor. An army of forty
thousand Goths was maintained for the perpetual service of the empire of
the East; and those haughty troops, who assumed the title of Fderati, or
allies, were distinguished by their gold collars, liberal pay, and
licentious privileges. Their native courage was improved by the use of
arms and the knowledge of discipline; and, while the republic was
guarded, or threatened, by the doubtful sword of the Barbarians, the
last sparks of the military flame were finally extinguished in the minds
of the Romans.  Theodosius had the address to persuade his allies, that
the conditions of peace, which had been extorted from him by prudence
and necessity, were the voluntary expressions of his sincere friendship
for the Gothic nation.  A different mode of vindication or apology was
opposed to the complaints of the people; who loudly censured these
shameful and dangerous concessions.  The calamities of the war were
painted in the most lively colors; and the first symptoms of the return
of order, of plenty, and security, were diligently exaggerated. The
advocates of Theodosius could affirm, with some appearance of truth and
reason, that it was impossible to extirpate so many warlike tribes, who
were rendered desperate by the loss of their native country; and that
the exhausted provinces would be revived by a fresh supply of soldiers
and husbandmen. The Barbarians still wore an angry and hostile aspect;
but the experience of past times might encourage the hope, that they
would acquire the habits of industry and obedience; that their manners
would be polished by time, education, and the influence of Christianity;
and that their posterity would insensibly blend with the great body of
the Roman people.

Notwithstanding these specious arguments, and these sanguine
expectations, it was apparent to every discerning eye, that the Goths
would long remain the enemies, and might soon become the conquerors of
the Roman empire. Their rude and insolent behavior expressed their
contempt of the citizens and provincials, whom they insulted with
impunity.  To the zeal and valor of the Barbarians Theodosius was
indebted for the success of his arms: but their assistance was
precarious; and they were sometimes seduced, by a treacherous and
inconstant disposition, to abandon his standard, at the moment when
their service was the most essential. During the civil war against
Maximus, a great number of Gothic deserters retired into the morasses of
Macedonia, wasted the adjacent provinces, and obliged the intrepid
monarch to expose his person, and exert his power, to suppress the
rising flame of rebellion.  The public apprehensions were fortified by
the strong suspicion, that these tumults were not the effect of
accidental passion, but the result of deep and premeditated design. It
was generally believed, that the Goths had signed the treaty of peace
with a hostile and insidious spirit; and that their chiefs had
previously bound themselves, by a solemn and secret oath, never to keep
faith with the Romans; to maintain the fairest show of loyalty and
friendship, and to watch the favorable moment of rapine, of conquest,
and of revenge. But as the minds of the Barbarians were not insensible
to the power of gratitude, several of the Gothic leaders sincerely
devoted themselves to the service of the empire, or, at least, of the
emperor; the whole nation was insensibly divided into two opposite
factions, and much sophistry was employed in conversation and dispute,
to compare the obligations of their first, and second, engagements. The
Goths, who considered themselves as the friends of peace, of justice,
and of Rome, were directed by the authority of Fravitta, a valiant and
honorable youth, distinguished above the rest of his countrymen by the
politeness of his manners, the liberality of his sentiments, and the
mild virtues of social life. But the more numerous faction adhered to
the fierce and faithless Priulf, * who inflamed the passions, and
asserted the independence, of his warlike followers. On one of the
solemn festivals, when the chiefs of both parties were invited to the
Imperial table, they were insensibly heated by wine, till they forgot
the usual restraints of discretion and respect, and betrayed, in the
presence of Theodosius, the fatal secret of their domestic disputes. The
emperor, who had been the reluctant witness of this extraordinary
controversy, dissembled his fears and resentment, and soon dismissed the
tumultuous assembly. Fravitta, alarmed and exasperated by the insolence
of his rival, whose departure from the palace might have been the signal
of a civil war, boldly followed him; and, drawing his sword, laid Priulf
dead at his feet. Their companions flew to arms; and the faithful
champion of Rome would have been oppressed by superior numbers, if he
had not been protected by the seasonable interposition of the Imperial
guards.  Such were the scenes of Barbaric rage, which disgraced the
palace and table of the Roman emperor; and, as the impatient Goths could
only be restrained by the firm and temperate character of Theodosius,
the public safety seemed to depend on the life and abilities of a single
man.

Vol. 2