[]THE HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE.

CHAP. XI. Reign of Claudius.—Defeat of the Goths.—Victories, Triumph, and Death, of Aurelian.

UNDER the deplorable reigns of Valerian and Gallienus, the empire was oppreſſed and almoſt deſtroyed by the ſoldiers, the tyrants, and the barbarians. It was ſaved by a ſeries of great princes, who derived their obſcure origin from the martial provinces of Illyricum. Within a period of about thirty years, Claudius, Aurelian, Probus, Diocletian and his colleagues, triumphed over the foreign and domeſtic enemies of the ſtate, re-eſtabliſhed, with the military diſ⯑cipline, the ſtrength of the frontiers, and deſerved the glorious title of Reſtorers of the Roman world.

[2] The removal of an effeminate tyrant made way for a ſucceſſion of heroes. The indignation of the people imputed all their calamities to Gallie⯑nus, Aureolus invades Italy, is defeated and be⯑ſieged at Milan. and the far greater part were, indeed, the conſequence of his diſſolute manners and careleſs adminiſtration. He was even deſtitute of a ſenſe of honour, which ſo frequently ſupplies the ab⯑ſence of public virtue; and as long as he was permitted to enjoy the poſſeſſion of Italy, a vic⯑tory of the barbarians, the loſs of a province, or the rebellion of a general, ſeldom diſturbed the tranquil courſe of his pleaſures. At length, a conſiderable army, ſtationed on the Upper Da⯑nube, A. D. 268. inveſted with the Imperial purple their leader Aureolus; who diſdaining a confined and barren reign over the mountains of Rhaetia, paſſed the Alps, occupied Milan, threatened Rome, and challenged Gallienus to diſpute in the field the ſovereignty of Italy. The emperor, provoked by the inſult, and alarmed by the inſtant danger, ſuddenly exerted that latent vigour, which ſome⯑times broke through the indolence of his temper. Forcing himſelf from the luxury of the palace, he appeared in arms at the head of his legions, and advanced beyond the Po to encounter his compe⯑titor. The corrupted name of Pontirolo ¹ ſtill preſerves the memory of a bridge over the Adda, which, during the action, muſt have proved an [3] object of the utmoſt importance to both armies. The Rhaetian uſurper, after receiving a total de⯑feat and a dangerous wound, retired into Milan. The ſiege of that great city was immediately formed; the walls were battered with every en⯑gine in uſe among the ancients; and Aureolus, doubtful of his internal ſtrength, and hopeleſs of foreign ſuccours, already anticipated the fatal conſequences of unſucceſsful rebellion.

His laſt reſource was an attempt to ſeduce the loyalty of the beſiegers. He ſcattered libels through their camp, inviting the troops to deſert an unworthy maſter, who ſacrificed the public happineſs to his luxury, and the lives of his moſt valuable ſubjects to the ſlighteſt ſuſpicions. The arts of Aureolus diffuſed fears and diſcontent among the principal officers of his rival. A con⯑ſpiracy was formed by Heraclianus the Praetorian praefect, by Marcian, a general of rank and repu⯑tation, and by Cecrops, who commanded a nu⯑merous body of Dalmatian guards. The death of Gallienus was reſolved; and notwithſtanding their deſire of firſt terminating the ſiege of Milan, the extreme danger which accompanied every moment's delay, obliged them to haſten the exe⯑cution of their daring purpoſe. At a late hour of the night, but while the emperor ſtill protracted the pleaſures of the table, an alarm was ſuddenly given, that Aureolus, at the head of all his forces, had made a deſperate ſally from the town; Gal⯑lienus, who was never deficient in perſonal bra⯑very, ſtarted from his ſilken couch, and, without [4] allowing himſelf time either to put on his armour or to aſſemble his guards, he mounted on horſe⯑back, and rode full ſpeed toward the ſuppoſed place of the attack. Encompaſſed by his declared or concealed enemies, he ſoon, amidſt the noc⯑turnal tumult, received a mortal dart from an uncertain hand. Before he expired, a patriotic A. D. 268. March 20. Death of Gallienus. ſentiment riſing in the mind of Gallienus, in⯑duced him to name a deſerving ſucceſſor, and it was his laſt requeſt, that the Imperial ornaments ſhould be delivered to Claudius, who then com⯑manded a detached army in the neighbourhood of Pavia. The report at leaſt was diligently pro⯑pagated, and the order cheerfully obeyed by the conſpirators, who had already agreed to place Claudius on the throne. On the firſt news of the emperor's death, the troops expreſſed ſome ſuſ⯑picion and reſentment, till the one was removed, and the other aſſuaged, by a donative of twenty pieces of gold to each ſoldier. They then ra⯑tified the election, and acknowledged the merit of their new ſovereign ².

The obſcurity which covered the origin of Character and eleva⯑tion of the emperor Claudius. Claudius, though it was afterwards embelliſhed by ſome flattering fictions ³, ſufficiently betrays [5] the meanneſs of his birth. We can only diſcover that he was a native of one of the provinces bor⯑dering on the Danube; that his youth was ſpent in arms, and that his modeſt valour attracted the favour and confidence of Decius. The ſenate and people already conſidered him as an excellent officer, equal to the moſt important truſts; and cenſured the inattention of Valerian, who ſuffered him to remain in the ſubordinate ſtation of a tri⯑bune. But it was not long before that emperor diſtinguiſhed the merit of Claudius, by declaring him general and chief of the Illyrian frontier, with the command of all the troops in Thrace, Maeſia, Dacia, Pannonia, and Dalmatia, the ap⯑pointments of the praefect of Egypt, the eſtabliſh⯑ment of the proconſul of Africa, and the ſure proſpect of the conſulſhip. By his victories over the Goths, he deſerved from the ſenate the ho⯑nour of a ſtatue, and excited the jealous appre⯑henſions of Gallienus. It was impoſſible that a ſoldier could eſteem ſo diſſolute a ſovereign, nor is it eaſy to conceal a juſt contempt. Some un⯑guarded expreſſions which dropt from Claudius, were officiouſly tranſmitted to the royal ear. The emperor's anſwer to an officer of confidence, de⯑ſcribes in very lively colours his own character and that of the times. ‘There is not any thing capable of giving me more ſerious concern, than the intelligence contained in your laſt diſ⯑patch ⁴: that ſome malicious ſuggeſtions have [6] indiſpoſed towards us the mind of our friend and parent Claudius. As you regard your al⯑legiance, uſe every means to appeaſe his re⯑ſentment, but conduct your negociation with ſecrecy; let it not reach the knowledge of the Dacian troops; they are already provoked, and it might inflame their fury. I myſelf have ſent him ſome preſents: be it your care that he accept them with pleaſure. Above all, let him not ſuſpect that I am made acquainted with his imprudence. The fear of my anger might urge him to deſperate counſels ⁵.’ The preſents which accompanied this humble epiſtle, in which the monarch ſolicited a reconciliation with his diſcontented ſubject, conſiſted of a con⯑ſiderable ſum of money, a ſplendid wardrobe, and a valuable ſervice of ſilver and gold plate. By ſuch arts Gallienus ſoftened the indignation, and diſpelled the fears, of his Illyrian general; and, during the remainder of that reign, the for⯑midable ſword of Claudius was always drawn in the cauſe of a maſter whom he deſpiſed. At laſt, indeed, he received from the conſpirators the bloody purple of Gallienus: but he had been ab⯑ſent from their camp and counſels; and however he might applaud the deed, we may candidly preſume that he was innocent of the knowledge of it ⁶. When Claudius aſcended the throne, he was about fifty-four years of age.

[7] The ſiege of Milan was ſtill continued, and Aureolus ſoon diſcovered, that the ſucceſs of his artifices had only raiſed up a more determined Death of Aureolus. adverſary. He attempted to negociate with Clau⯑dius a treaty of alliance and partition. ‘Tell him, replied the intrepid emperor, that ſuch propoſals ſhould have been made to Gal⯑lienus; he, perhaps, might have liſtened to them with patience, and accepted a colleague as deſpicable as himſelf ⁷.’ This ſtern refuſal, and a laſt unſucceſsful effort, obliged Aureolus to yield the city and himſelf to the diſcretion of the conqueror. The judgment of the army pro⯑nounced him worthy of death, and Claudius, after a feeble reſiſtance, conſented to the execution of the ſentence. Nor was the zeal of the ſenate leſs ardent in the cauſe of their new ſovereign. They ratified, perhaps with a ſincere tranſport of zeal, the election of Claudius; and as his predeceſſor had ſhewn himſelf the perſonal enemy of their order, they exerciſed under the name of juſtice a ſevere revenge againſt his friends and family. The ſenate was permitted to diſcharge the un⯑grateful office of puniſhment, and the emperor reſerved for himſelf the pleaſure and merit of ob⯑taining by his interceſſion a general act of indem⯑nity ⁸.

[8] Such oſtentatious clemency diſcovers leſs of the real character of Claudius, than a trifling circum⯑ſtance in which he ſeems to have conſulted only Clemency and juſtice of Clau⯑dius. the dictates of his heart. The frequent rebel⯑lions of the provinces had involved almoſt every perſon in the guilt of treaſon, almoſt every eſtate in the caſe of confiſcation; and Gallienus often diſplayed his liberality, by diſtributing among his officers the property of his ſubjects. On the ac⯑ceſſion of Claudius, an old woman threw herſelf at his feet, and complained that a general of the late emperor had obtained an arbitrary grant of her patrimony. This general was Claudius him⯑ſelf, who had not entirely eſcaped the contagion of the times. The emperor bluſhed at the re⯑proach, but deſerved the confidence which ſhe had repoſed in his equity. The confeſſion of his fault was accompanied with immediate and ample reſtitution ⁹.

In the arduous taſk which Claudius had under⯑taken, He under⯑takes the reforma⯑tion of the army. of reſtoring the empire to its ancient ſplen⯑dour, it was firſt neceſſary to revive among his troops a ſenſe of order and obedience. With the authority of a veteran commander, he repreſented to them, that the relaxation of diſcipline had in⯑troduced a long train of diſorders, the effects of which were at length experienced by the ſoldiers themſelves; that a people ruined by oppreſſion, and indolent from deſpair, could no longer ſup⯑ply a numerous army with the means of luxury, or even of ſubſiſtence; that the danger of each individual had increaſed with the deſpotiſm of the [9] military order, ſince princes who tremble on the throne, will guard their ſafety by the inſtant ſa⯑crifice of every obnoxious ſubject. The emperor expatiated on the miſchiefs of a lawleſs caprice which the ſoldiers could only gratify at the ex⯑pence of their own blood; as their ſeditious elec⯑tions had ſo frequently been followed by civil wars, which conſumed the flower of the legions either in the field of battle or in the cruel abuſe of victory. He painted in the moſt lively colours the exhauſted ſtate of the treaſury, the deſolation of the provinces, the diſgrace of the Roman name, and the inſolent triumph of rapacious bar⯑barians. It was againſt thoſe barbarians, he de⯑clared, that he intended to point the firſt effort of their arms. Tetricus might reign for a while over the Weſt, and even Zenobia might preſerve the dominion of the Eaſt ¹⁰. Theſe uſurpers were his perſonal adverſaries; nor could he think of indulging any private reſentment till he had ſaved an empire, whoſe impending ruin would, unleſs it was timely prevented, cruſh both the army and the people.

The various nations of Germany and Sarmatia, who fought under the Gothic ſtandard, had al⯑ready A. D. 269. The Goths invade the empire. collected an armament more formidable than any which had yet iſſued from the Euxine. On the banks of the Nieſter, one of the great rivers that diſcharge themſelves into that ſea, they conſtructed a fleet of two thouſand, or even [10] of ſix thouſand veſſels ¹¹; numbers which, how⯑ever incredible they may ſeem, would have been inſufficient to tranſport their pretended army of three hundred and twenty thouſand barbarians. Whatever might be the real ſtrength of the Goths, the vigour and ſucceſs of the expedition were not adequate to the greatneſs of the preparations. In their paſſage through the Boſphorus, the un⯑ſkilful pilots were overpowered by the violence of the current; and while the multitude of their ſhips were crowded in a narrow channel, many were daſhed againſt each other, or againſt the ſhore. The barbarians made ſeveral deſcents on the coaſts both of Europe and Aſia; but the open country was already plundered, and they were repulſed with ſhame and loſs from the fortified cities which they aſſaulted. A ſpirit of diſcou⯑ragement and diviſion aroſe in the fleet, and ſome of their chiefs ſailed away towards the iſlands of Crete and Cyprus; but the main body purſuing a more ſteady courſe, anchored at length near the foot of mount Athos, and aſſaulted the city of Theſſalonica, the wealthy capital of all the Ma⯑cedonian provinces. Their attacks, in which they diſplayed a fierce but artleſs bravery, were ſoon interrupted by the rapid approach of Clau⯑dius, haſtening to a ſcene of action that deſerved the preſence of a warlike prince at the head of the remaining powers of the empire. Impatient for battle, the Goths immediately broke up their [11] camp, relinquiſhed the ſiege of Theſſalonica, left their navy at the foot of mount Athos, traverſed the hills of Macedonia, and preſſed forwards to engage the laſt defence of Italy.

We ſtill poſſeſs an original letter addreſſed by Claudius to the ſenate and people on this memo⯑rable Diſtreſs and firm⯑neſs of Claudius. occaſion. ‘Conſcript fathers, ſays the emperor, know that three hundred and twenty thouſand Goths have invaded the Roman ter⯑ritory. If I vanquiſh them, your gratitude will reward my ſervices. Should I fall, re⯑member that I am the ſucceſſor of Gallienus. The whole republic is fatigued and exhauſted. We ſhall fight after Valerian, after Ingenuus, Regillianus, Lollianus, Poſthumus, Celſus, and a thouſand others, whom a juſt contempt for Gallienus provoked into rebellion. We are in want of darts, of ſpears, and of ſhields. The ſtrength of the empire, Gaul, and Spain, are uſurped by Tetricus, and we bluſh to ac⯑knowledge that the archers of the Eaſt ſerve under the banners of Zenobia. Whatever we ſhall perform, will be ſufficiently great ¹².’ The melancholy firmneſs of this epiſtle announces a hero careleſs of his fate, conſcious of his dan⯑ger, but ſtill deriving a well-grounded hope from the reſources of his own mind.

The event ſurpaſſed his own expectations and thoſe of the world. By the moſt ſignal victories His victory over the Goths. he delivered the empire from this hoſt of barba⯑rians, and was diſtinguiſhed by poſterity under [12] the glorious appellation of the Gothic Claudius. The imperfect hiſtorians of an irregular war ¹³ do not enable us to deſcribe the order and circum⯑ſtances of his exploits; but, if we could be in⯑dulged in the alluſion, we might diſtribute into three acts this memorable tragedy. I. The de⯑ciſive battle was fought near Naiſſus, a city of Dardania. The legions at firſt gave way, op⯑preſſed by numbers, and diſmayed by misfortunes. Their ruin was inevitable, had not the abilities of their emperor prepared a ſeaſonable relief. A large detachment riſing out of the ſecret and dif⯑ficult paſſes of the mountains, which, by his or⯑der, they had occupied, ſuddenly aſſailed the rear of the victorious Goths. The favorable inſtant was improved by the activity of Claudius. He revived the courage of his troops, reſtored their ranks, and preſſed the barbarians on every ſide. Fifty thouſand men are reported to have been ſlain in the battle of Naiſſus. Several large bodies of barbarians, covering their retreat with a moveable fortification of waggons, retired, or rather eſcaped, from the field of ſlaughter. II. We may preſume that ſome inſurmountable diffi⯑culty, the fatigue, perhaps, or the diſobedience, of the conquerors, prevented Claudius from com⯑pleting in one day the deſtruction of the Goths. The war was diffuſed over the provinces of Maeſia, Thrace, and Macedonia, and its opera⯑tions drawn out into a variety of marches, ſur⯑priſes, [13] and tumultuary engagements, as well by ſea as by land. When the Romans ſuffered any loſs, it was commonly occaſioned by their own cowardice or raſhneſs; but the ſuperior talents of the emperor, his perfect knowledge of the coun⯑try, and his judicious choice of meaſures as well as officers, aſſured on moſt occaſions the ſucceſs of his arms. The immenſe booty, the fruit of ſo many victories, conſiſted for the greater part of cattle and ſlaves. A ſelect body of the Gothic youth was received among the Imperial troops; the remainder was ſold into ſervitude; and ſo conſiderable was the number of female captives, that every ſoldier obtained to his ſhare two or three women. A circumſtance from which we may conclude, that the invaders entertained ſome deſigns of ſettlement as well as of plunder; ſince even in a naval expedition they were accompanied by their families. III. The loſs of their fleet, which was either taken or ſunk, had intercepted the retreat of the Goths. A vaſt circle of Ro⯑man poſts diſtributed with ſkill, ſupported with firmneſs, and gradually cloſing towards a com⯑mon centre, forced the barbarians into the moſt inacceſſible parts of mount Haemus, where they found a ſafe refuge, but a very ſcanty ſubſiſtence. During the courſe of a rigorous winter, in which they were beſieged by the emperor's troops, fa⯑mine and peſtilence, deſertion and the ſword, continually diminiſhed the impriſoned multitude. On the return of ſpring, nothing appeared in A. D. 270. arms except a hardy and deſperate band, the [14] remnant of that mighty hoſt which had embarked at the mouth of the Nieſter.

The peſtilence which ſwept away ſuch num⯑bers of the barbarians, at length proved fatal to March. Death of the empe⯑ror, who recom⯑mends Aurelian for his ſucceſſor. their conqueror. After a ſhort but glorious reign of two years, Claudius expired at Sirmium, amidſt the tears and acclamations of his ſubjects. In his laſt illneſs, he convened the principal officers of the ſtate and army, and in their preſence recom⯑mended Aurelian, one of his generals, as the moſt deſerving of the throne, and the beſt qua⯑lified to execute the great deſign which he himſelf had been permitted only to undertake. The virtues of Claudius, his valour, affability ¹⁴, juſ⯑tice, and temperance, his love of fame and of his country, place him in that ſhort liſt of emperors who added luſtre to the Roman purple. Thoſe virtues, however, were celebrated with peculiar zeal and complacency by the courtly writers of the age of Conſtantine, who was the great grand⯑ſon of Criſpus, the elder brother of Claudius. The voice of flattery was ſoon taught to repeat, that the gods, who ſo haſtily had ſnatched Clau⯑dius from the earth, rewarded his merit and piety by the perpetual eſtabliſhment of the empire in his family ¹⁵.

[15] Notwithſtanding theſe oracles, the greatneſs of the Flavian family (a name which it had pleaſ⯑ed them to aſſume) was deferred above twenty The at⯑tempt and fall of Quintilius. years, and the elevation of Claudius occaſioned the immediate ruin of his brother Quintilius, who poſſeſſed not ſufficient moderation or courage to deſcend into the private ſtation to which the patriotiſm of the late emperor had condemned him. Without delay or reflection, he aſſumed the purple at Aquileia, where he commanded a conſiderable force; and though his reign laſted only ſeventeen days, he had time to obtain the ſanction of the ſenate, and to experience a mu⯑tiny of the troops. As ſoon as he was informed that the great army of the Danube had inveſted the well-known valour of Aurelian with Imperial power, he ſunk under the fame and merit of his rival; and ordering his veins to be opened, pru⯑dently April. withdrew himſelf from the unequal con⯑teſt ¹⁶.

The general deſign of this work will not per⯑mit us minutely to relate the actions of every Origin and ſervices of Aurelian. emperor after he aſcended the throne, much leſs to deduce the various fortunes of his private life. We ſhall only obſerve, that the father of Aure⯑lian was a peaſant of the territory of Sirmium, who occupied a ſmall farm, the property of Au⯑relius, a rich ſenator. His warlike ſon inliſted in the troops as a common ſoldier, ſucceſſively [16] roſe to the rank of a centurion, a tribune, the praefect of a legion, the inſpector of the camp, the general, or, as it was then called, the duke, of a frontier; and at length, during the Gothic war, exerciſed the important office of commander in chief of the cavalry. In every ſtation he diſ⯑tinguiſhed himſelf by matchleſs valour ¹⁷, rigid diſcipline, and ſucceſsful conduct. He was in⯑veſted with the conſulſhip by the emperor Vale⯑rian, who ſtyles him, in the pompous language of that age, the deliverer of Illyricum, the re⯑ſtorer of Gaul, and the rival of the Scipios. At the recommendation of Valerian, a ſenator of the higheſt rank and merit, Ulpius Crinitus, whoſe blood was derived from the ſame ſource as that of Trajan, adopted the Pannonian peaſant, gave him his daughter in marriage, and relieved with his ample fortune the honourable poverty which Aurelian had preſerved inviolate ¹⁸.

The reign of Aurelian laſted only four years Aurelian's ſucceſsful reign. and about nine months; but every inſtant of that ſhort period was filled by ſome memorable at⯑chievement. He put an end to the Gothic war, chaſtiſed the Germans who invaded Italy, reco⯑vered Gaul, Spain, and Britain out of the hands of Tetricus, and deſtroyed the proud monarchy [17] which Zenobia had erected in the Eaſt, on the ruins of the afflicted empire.

It was the rigid attention of Aurelian, even to the minuteſt articles of diſcipline, which be⯑ſtowed His ſevere diſcipline. ſuch uninterrupted ſucceſs on his arms. His military regulations are contained in a very conciſe epiſtle to one of his inferior officers, who is commanded to enforce them, as he wiſhes to become a tribune, or as he is deſirous to live. Gaming, drinking, and the arts of divination, were ſeverely prohibited. Aurelian expected that his ſoldiers ſhould be modeſt, frugal, and labo⯑rious; that their armour ſhould be conſtantly kept bright, their weapons ſharp, their clothing and horſes ready for immediate ſervice; that they ſhould live in their quarters with chaſtity and ſo⯑briety, without damaging the corn fields, with⯑out ſtealing even a ſheep, a fowl, or a bunch of grapes, without exacting from their landlords, either ſalt, or oil, or wood. ‘The public al⯑lowance, continues the emperor, is ſuffi⯑cient for their ſupport; their wealth ſhould be collected from the ſpoil of the enemy, not from the tears of the provincials ¹⁹.’ A ſingle inſtance will ſerve to diſplay the rigour, and even cruelty, of Aurelian. One of the ſoldiers had ſeduced the wife of his hoſt. The guilty wretch [18] was faſtened to two trees forcibly drawn towards each other, and his limbs were torn aſunder by their ſudden ſeparation. A few ſuch examples impreſſed a ſalutary conſternation. The puniſh⯑ments of Aurelian were terrible; but he had ſel⯑dom occaſion to puniſh more than once the ſame offence. His own conduct gave a ſanction to his laws, and the ſeditious legions dreaded a chief who had learned to obey, and who was worthy to command.

The death of Claudius had revived the faint⯑ing ſpirit of the Goths. The troops which guarded the paſſes of Mount Haemus, and the He con⯑cludes a treaty with the Goths, banks of the Danube, had been drawn away by the apprehenſion of a civil war; and it ſeems probable that the remaining body of the Gothic and Vandalic tribes embraced the favourable op⯑portunity, abandoned their ſettlements of the Ukraine, traverſed the rivers, and ſwelled with new multitudes the deſtroying hoſt of their coun⯑trymen. Their united numbers were at length encountered by Aurelian, and the bloody and doubtful conflict ended only with the approach of night ²⁰. Exhauſted by ſo many calamities, which they had mutually endured and inflicted during a twenty years war, the Goths and the Romans conſented to a laſting and beneficial treaty. It was earneſtly ſolicited by the barba⯑rians, and cheerfully ratified by the legions, to whoſe ſuffrage the prudence of Aurelian referred the deciſion of that important queſtion. The [19] Gothic nation engaged to ſupply the armies of Rome with a body of two thouſand auxiliaries, conſiſting entirely of cavalry, and ſtipulated in return an undiſturbed retreat, with a regular market as far as the Danube, provided by the emperor's care, but at their own expence. The treaty was obſerved with ſuch religious fidelity, that when a party of five hundred men ſtraggled from the camp in queſt of pluner, the king or general of the barbarians commanded that the guilty leader ſhould be apprehended and ſhot to death with darts, as a victim devoted to the ſanctity of their engagements. It is, however, not unlikely, that the precaution of Aurelian, who had exacted as hoſtages the ſons and daugh⯑ters of the Gothic chiefs, contributed ſomething to this pacific temper. The youths he trained in the exerciſe of arms, and near his own perſon: to the damſels he gave a liberal and Roman edu⯑cation, and by beſtowing them in marriage on ſome of his principal officers, gradually intro⯑duced between the two nations the cloſeſt and moſt endearing connexions ²¹.

But the moſt important condition of peace was and reſigns to them the pro⯑vince of Dacia. underſtood rather than expreſſed in the treaty. Aurelian withdrew the Roman forces from Dacia, and tacitly relinquiſhed that great province to the Goths and Vandals ²². His manly judgment [20] convinced him of the ſolid advantages, and taught him to deſpiſe the ſeeming diſgrace, of thus con⯑tracting the frontiers of the monarchy. The Dacian ſubjects, removed from thoſe diſtant poſ⯑ſeſſions which they were unable to cultivate or defend, added ſtrength and populouſneſs to the ſouthern ſide of the Danube. A fertile territory, which the repetition of barbarous inroads had changed into a deſert, was yielded to their in⯑duſtry, and a new province of Dacia ſtill pre⯑ſerved the memory of Trajan's conqueſts. The old country of that name detained, however, a conſiderable number of its inhabitants, who dreaded exile more than a Gothic maſter ²³. Theſe degenerate Romans continued to ſerve the empire, whoſe allegiance they had renounced, by introducing among their conquerors the firſt no⯑tions of agriculture, the uſeful arts, and the con⯑veniences of civiliſed life. An intercourſe of commerce and language was gradually eſtabliſhed between the oppoſite banks of the Danube; and after Dacia became an independent ſtate, it often proved the firmeſt barrier of the empire againſt the invaſions of the ſavages of the North. A ſenſe of intereſt attached theſe more ſettled bar⯑barians to the alliance of Rome, and a permanent intereſt very frequently ripens into ſincere and uſeful friendſhip. This various colony, which [21] filled the ancient province, and was inſenſibly blended into one great people, ſtill acknowledg⯑ed the ſuperior renown and authority of the Go⯑thic tribe, and claimed the fancied honour of a Scandinavian origin. At the ſame time the lucky though accidental reſemblance of the name of Gaeta, infuſed among the credulous Goths a vain perſuation, that, in a remote age, their own anceſtors, already ſeated in the Dacian provinces, had received the inſtructions of Zamolxis, and checked the victorious arms of Seſoſtis and Darius ²⁴.

While the vigorous and moderate conduct of The Ale⯑mannie war. Aurelian reſtored the Illyrian frontier, the nation of the Alemanni ²⁵ violated the conditions of peace, which either Gallienus had purchaſed, or Claudius had impoſed, and inflamed by their impatient youth, ſuddenly flew to arms. Forty thouſand horſe appeared in the field ²⁶, and the numbers of the infantry doubled thoſe of the cavalry ²⁷. The firſt objects of their avarice [22] were a few cities of the Rhaetian frontier; but their hopes ſoon riſing with ſucceſs, the rapid march of the Alemanni traced a line of devaſta⯑tion from the Danube to the Po ²⁸.

The emperor was almoſt at the ſame time A. D. 270. September. informed of the irruption, and of the retreat, of the barbarians. Collecting an active body of troops, he marched with ſilence and celerity along the ſkirts of the Hercynian foreſt; and the Alemanni, laden with the ſpoils of Italy, arrived at the Danube, without ſuſpecting, that on the oppoſite bank, and in an advantageous poſt, a Roman army lay concealed and prepared to in⯑tercept their return. Aurelian indulged the fatal ſecurity of the barbarians, and permitted about half their forces to paſs the river without diſturb⯑ance and without precaution. Their ſituation and aſtoniſhment gave him an eaſy victory; his ſkilful conduct improved the advantage. Diſ⯑poſing the legions in a ſemicircular form, he advanced the two horns of the creſcent acroſs the Danube, and wheeling them on a ſudden towards the centre, incloſed the rear of the Ger⯑man hoſt. The diſmayed barbarians, on what⯑ſoever ſide they caſt their eyes, beheld with de⯑ſpair, a waſted country, a deep and rapid ſtream, a victorious and implacable enemy.

Reduced to this diſtreſſed condition, the Ale⯑manni no longer diſdained to ſue for peace. Aurelian received their ambaſſadors at the head of his camp, and with every circumſtance of []

[23] martial pomp that could diſplay the greatneſs and diſcipline of Rome. The legions ſtood to their arms in well-ordered ranks and awful ſilence. The principal commanders, diſtinguiſh⯑ed by the enſigns of their rank, appeared on horſe⯑back on either ſide of the Imperial throne. Behind the throne, the conſecrated images of the emperor, and his predeceſſors ²⁹, the golden eagles, and the various titles of the legions, engraved in letters of gold, were exalted in the air on lofty pikes covered with ſilver. When Aurelian aſſumed his ſeat, his manly grace and majeſtic figure ³⁰ taught the barbarians to revere the perſon as well as the purple of their con⯑queror. The ambaſſadors fell proſtrate on the ground in ſilence. They were commanded to riſe, and permitted to ſpeak. By the aſſiſtance of interpreters they extenuated their perfidy, magnified their exploits, expatiated on the viciſ⯑ſitudes of fortune and the advantages of peace, and, with an ill-timed confidence, demanded a large ſubſidy, as the price of the alliance which they offered to the Romans. The anſwer of the emperor was ſtern and imperious. He treated their offer with contempt, and their demand with indignation, reproached the barbarians, that they were as ignorant of the arts of war as of the laws of peace, and finally diſmiſſed them with the choice only of ſubmitting to his un⯑conditioned [24] mercy, or awaiting the utmoſt ſe⯑verity of his reſentment ³¹. Aurelian had reſign⯑ed a diſtant province to the Goths; but it was dangerous to truſt or to pardon theſe perfidious barbarians, whoſe formidable power kept Italy itſelf in perpetual alarms.

Immediately after this conference, it ſhould The Ale⯑manni in⯑vade Italy, ſeem that ſome unexpected emergency required the emperor's preſence in Pannonia. He de⯑volved on his lieutenants the care of finiſhing the deſtruction of the Alemanni, either by the ſword, or by the ſurer operation of famine. But an active deſpair has often triumphed over the indolent aſſurance of ſucceſs. The bar⯑barians, finding it impoſſible to traverſe the Danube and the Roman camp, broke through the poſts in their rear, which were more feebly or leſs carefully guarded; and with incredible diligence, but by a different road, returned to⯑wards the mountains of Italy ³². Aurelian, who conſidered the war as totally extinguiſhed, received the mortifying intelligence of the eſcape of the Allemanni, and of the ravage which they already committed in the territory of Milan. The le⯑gions were commanded to follow, with as much expedition as thoſe heavy bodies were capable of exerting, the rapid flight of an enemy, whoſe infantry and cavalry moved with almoſt equal ſwiftneſs. A few days afterwards the emperor himſelf marched to the relief of Italy, at the [25] head of a choſen body of auxiliaries (among whom were the hoſtages and cavalry of the Van⯑dals), and of all the Praetorian guards who had ſerved in the wars on the Danube ³³.

As the light troops of the Alemanni had ſpread and are at laſt van⯑quiſhed by Aurelian. themſelves from the Alps to the Apennine, the inceſſant vigilance of Aurelian and his officers was exerciſed in the diſcovery, the attack, and the purſuit of the numerous detachments. Not⯑withſtanding this deſultory war, three conſider⯑able battles are mentioned, in which the prin⯑cipal force of both armies was obſtinately en⯑gaged ³⁴. The ſucceſs was various. In the firſt, fought near Placentia, the Romans received ſo ſevere a blow, that, according to the expreſſion of a writer extremely partial to Aurelian, the immediate diſſolution of the empire was appre⯑hended ³⁵. The crafty barbarians, who had lin⯑ed the woods, ſuddenly attacked the legions in the duſk of the evening, and, it is moſt pro⯑bable, after the fatigue and diſorder of a long march. The fury of their charge was irreſiſtible; but at length, after a dreadful ſlaughter, the patient firmneſs of the emperor rallied his troops, and reſtored, in ſome degree, the honour of his arms. The ſecond battle was fought near Fano in Umbria; on the ſpot which, five hundred years before, had been fatal to the brother of Hannibal ³⁶. Thus far the ſucceſsful Germans [26] had advanced along the Aemilian and Flaminian way, with a deſign of ſacking the defenceleſs miſtreſs of the world. But Aurelian, who, watchful for the ſafety of Rome, ſtill hung on their rear, found in this place the deciſive mo⯑ment, of giving them a total and irretrievable defeat ³⁷. The flying remnant of their hoſt was exterminated in a third and laſt battle near Pavia; and Italy was delivered from the inroads of the Alemanni.

Fear has been the original parent of ſuper⯑ſtition, Superſti⯑tious cere⯑monies. and every new calamity urges trembling mortals to deprecate the wrath of their inviſible enemies. Though the beſt hope of the republic was in the valour and conduct of Aurelian, yet ſuch was the public conſternation, when the bar⯑barians were hourly expected at the gates of Rome, that, by a decree of the ſenate, the Sibylline books were conſulted. Even the emperor him⯑ſelf, from a motive either of religion or of po⯑licy, recommended this ſalutary meaſure, chided the tardineſs of the ſenate ³⁸, and offered to ſup⯑ply whatever expence, whatever animals, what⯑ever captives of any nation, the gods ſhould require. Notwithſtanding this liberal offer, it does not appear, that any human victims expiat⯑ed with their blood the ſins of the Roman peo⯑ple. The Sibylline books enjoined ceremonies of a more harmleſs nature, proceſſions of prieſts A. D. 271. January 11. [27] in white robes, attended by a chorus of youths and virgins; luſtrations of the city and adjacent country; and ſacrifices, whoſe powerful influ⯑ence diſabled the barbarians from paſſing the myſtic ground on which they had been celebrat⯑ed. However puerile in themſelves, theſe ſuper⯑ſtitious arts were ſubſervient to the ſucceſs of the war; and if, in the deciſive battle of Fano, the Alemanni fancied they ſaw an army of ſpectres combating on the ſide of Aurelian, he received a real and effectual aid from this imaginary rein⯑forcement ³⁹.

But whatever confidence might be placed in Fortifica⯑tions of Rome. ideal ramparts, the experience of the paſt, and the dread of the future, induced the Romans to conſtruct fortifications of a groſſer and more ſub⯑ſtantial kind. The ſeven hills of Rome had been ſurrounded, by the ſucceſſors of Romulus, with an ancient wall of more than thirteen miles ⁴⁰. The vaſt incloſure may ſeem diſpro⯑portioned to the ſtrength and numbers of the infant ſtate. But it was neceſſary to ſecure an [28] ample extent of paſture and arable land, againſt the frequent and ſudden incurſions of the tribes of Latium, the perpetual enemies of the repub⯑lic. With the progreſs of Roman greatneſs, the city and its inhabitants gradually increaſed, filled up the vacant ſpace, pierced through the uſeleſs walls, covered the field of Mars, and, on every ſide, followed the public highways in long and beautiful ſuburbs ⁴¹. The extent of the new walls, erected by Aurelian, and finiſhed in the reign of Probus, was magnified by popular eſti⯑mation to near fifty ⁴², but is reduced by accu⯑rate meaſurement to about twenty-one, miles ⁴³. It was a great but melancholy labour, ſince the defence of the capital betrayed the decline of the monarchy. The Romans of a more proſperous age, who truſted to the arms of the legions the ſafety of the frontier camps ⁴⁴, were very far from entertaining a ſuſpicion, that it would ever become neceſſary to fortify the ſeat of empire againſt the inroads of the barbarians ⁴⁵.

The victory of Claudius over the Goths, and Aurelian ſuppreſſes the two uſurpers. the ſucceſs of Aurelian againſt the Alemanni, had already reſtored to the arms of Rome their ancient ſuperiority over the barbarous nations [29] of the North. To chaſtiſe domeſtic tyrants, and to reunite the diſmembered parts of the empire, was a taſk reſerved for the ſecond of thoſe warlike emperors. Though he was ac⯑knowledged by the ſenate and people, the fron⯑tiers of Italy, Africa, Illyricum, and Thrace, confined the limits of his reign. Gaul, Spain, and Britain, Egypt, Syria, and Aſia Minor, were ſtill poſſeſſed by two rebels, who alone, out of ſo numerous a liſt, had hitherto eſcaped the dangers of their ſituation; and to complete the ignominy of Rome, theſe rival thrones had been uſurped by women.

A rapid ſucceſſion of monarchs had ariſen and Succeſſion of uſurp⯑ers in Gaul. fallen in the provinces of Gaul. The rigid vir⯑tues of Poſthumus ſerved only to haſten his deſtruction. After ſuppreſſing a competitor, who had aſſumed the purple at Mentz, he re⯑fuſed to gratify his troops with the plunder of the rebellious city; and, in the ſeventh year of his reign, became the victim of their diſ⯑appointed avarice ⁴⁶. The death of Victo⯑rinus, his friend and aſſociate, was occaſion⯑ed by a leſs worthy cauſe. The ſhining ac⯑compliſhments ⁴⁷ of that prince were ſtained by a [30] licentious paſſion, which he indulged in acts of violence, with too little regard to the laws of ſociety, or even to thoſe of love ⁴⁸. He was ſlain at Cologne, by a conſpiracy of jealous huſ⯑bands, whoſe revenge would have appeared more juſtifiable, had they ſpared the innocence of his ſon. After the murder of ſo many valiant princes, it is ſomewhat remarkable, that a female for a long time controlled the fierce legions of Gaul, and ſtill more ſingular, that ſhe was the mother of the unfortunate Victorinus. The arts and treaſures of Victoria enabled her ſucceſſively to place Marius and Tetricus on the throne, and to reign with a manly vigour under the name of thoſe dependent emperors. Money of copper, of ſilver, and of gold, was coined in her name; ſhe aſſumed the titles of Auguſta and Mother of the Camps: her power ended only with her life; but her life was perhaps ſhortened by the ingratitude of Tetricus ⁴⁹.

When, at the inſtigation of his ambitious pa⯑troneſs, The reign and defeat of Tetri⯑cus. Tetricus aſſumed the enſigns of royalty, he was governor of the peaceful province of Aquitaine, an employment ſuited to his charac⯑ter and education. He reigned four or five years over Gaul, Spain, and Britain, the ſlave and ſovereign of a licentious army, whom he dreaded, and by whom he was deſpiſed. The valour and fortune of Aurelian at length opened [31] the proſpect of a deliverance. He ventured to diſcloſe his melancholy ſituation, and conjured the emperor to haſten to the relief of his unhappy A. D. 271. Summer. rival. Had this ſecret correſpondence reached the ears of the ſoldiers, it would moſt probably have coſt Tetricus his life; nor could he reſign the ſceptre of the Weſt, without committing an act of treaſon againſt himſelf. He affected the appearances of a civil war, led his forces into the field againſt Aurelian, poſted them in the moſt diſadvantageous manner, betrayed his own coun⯑ſels to the enemy, and with a few choſen friends deſerted in the beginning of the action. The rebel legions, though diſordered and diſmayed by the unexpected treachery of their chief, de⯑fended themſelves with deſperate valour, till they were cut in pieces almoſt to a man, in this bloody and memorable battle, which was fought near Chalons in Champagne ⁵⁰. The retreat of the irregular auxiliaries, Franks and Batavians ⁵¹, whom the conqueror ſoon compelled or perſuad⯑ed to repaſs the Rhine, reſtored the general tran⯑quillity, and the power of Aurelian was acknow⯑ledged [32] from the wall of Antoninus to the co⯑lumns of Hercules.

As early as the reign of Claudius, the city of Autun, alone and unaſſiſted, had ventured to declare againſt the legions of Gaul. After a ſiege of ſeven months, they ſtormed and plun⯑dered that unfortunate city, already waſted by famine ⁵². Lyons, on the contrary, had reſiſted with obſtinate diſaffection the arms of Aurelian. We read of the puniſhment of Lyons ⁵³, but there is not any mention of the rewards of Au⯑tun. Such, indeed, is the policy of civil war: ſeverely to remember injuries, and to forget the moſt important ſervices. Revenge is profitable, gratitude is expenſive.

Aurelian had no ſooner ſecured the perſon and provinces of Tetricus, than he turned his arms A. D. 272. Character of Zeno⯑bia; againſt Zenobia, the celebrated queen of Pal⯑myra and the Eaſt. Modern Europe has pro⯑duced ſeveral illuſtrious women who have ſuſtain⯑ed with glory the weight of empire; nor is our own age deſtitute of ſuch diſtinguiſhed charac⯑ters. But if we except the doubtful atchieve⯑ments of Semiramis, Zenobia is perhaps the only female, whoſe ſuperior genius broke through the ſervile indolence impoſed on her ſex by the cli⯑mate and manners of Aſia ⁵⁴. She claimed her [33] deſcent from the Macedonian kings of Egypt, equalled in beauty her anceſtor Cleopatra, and far ſurpaſſed that princeſs in chaſtity ⁵⁵ and va⯑lour. her beauty and learn⯑ing; Zenobia was eſteemed the moſt lovely as well as the moſt heroic of her ſex. She was of a dark complexion (for in ſpeaking of a lady, theſe trifles become important). Her teeth were of a pearly whiteneſs, and her large black eyes ſparkled with uncommon fire, tempered by the moſt attractive ſweetneſs. Her voice was ſtrong and harmonious. Her manly underſtanding was ſtrengthened and adorned by ſtudy. She was not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but poſſeſſed in equal perfection the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian languages. She had drawn up for her own uſe an epitome of oriental hiſtory, and familiarly compared the beauties of Homer and Plato under the tuition of the ſublime Longi⯑nus.

This accompliſhed woman gave her hand to her valour. Odenathus, who from a private ſtation raiſed himſelf to the dominion of the Eaſt. She ſoon became the friend and companion of a hero. In the intervals of war, Odenathus paſſionately delighted in the exerciſe of hunting; he purſued with ardour the wild beaſts of the deſert, lions, panthers, and bears; and the ardour of Zenobia in that dangerous amuſement was not inferior to his own. She had inured her conſtitution to fatigue, diſdained the uſe of a covered carriage, [34] generally appeared on horſeback in a military habit, and ſometimes marched ſeveral miles on foot at the head of the troops. The ſucceſs of Odenathus was in a great meaſure aſcribed to her incomparable prudence and fortitude. Their ſplendid victories over the Great King, whom they twice purſued as far as the gates of Cteſi⯑phon, laid the foundations of their united fame and power. The armies which they commanded, and the provinces which they had ſaved, acknow⯑ledged not any other ſovereigns than their invin⯑cible chiefs. The ſenate and people of Rome revered a ſtranger who had avenged their captive emperor, and even the inſenſible ſon of Valerian accepted Odenathus for his legitimate colleague.

After a ſucceſsful expedition againſt the Gothic She re⯑venges her huſband's death, plunderers of Aſia, the Palmyrenian prince re⯑turned to the city of Emeſa in Syria. Invincible in war, he was there cut off by domeſtic treaſon, and his favourite amuſement of hunting was the cauſe, or at leaſt the occaſion, of his death ⁵⁶. His nephew, Maeonius, preſumed to dart his javelin before that of his uncle; and though admoniſhed of his error, repeated the ſame inſo⯑lence. As a monarch, and as a ſportſman, Ode⯑nathus was provoked, took away his horſe, a mark of ignominy among the barbarians, and chaſtiſed the raſh youth by a ſhort confinement. The offence was ſoon forgot, but the puniſhment [35] was remembered; and Maeonius, with a few daring aſſociates, aſſaſſinated his uncle in the midſt of a great entertainment. Herod, the ſon A. D. 250. of Odenathus, though not of Zenobia, a young man of a ſoft and effeminate temper ⁵⁷, was killed with his father. But Maeonius obtained only the pleaſure of revenge by this bloody deed. He had ſcarcely time to aſſume the title of Auguſtus, before he was ſacrificed by Zenobia to the me⯑mory of her huſband ⁵⁸.

With the aſſiſtance of his moſt faithful friends, and reigns over the Eaſt and Egypt. ſhe immediately filled the vacant throne, and governed with manly counſels Palmyra, Syria, and the Eaſt, above five years. By the death of Odenathus, that authority was at an end which the ſenate had granted him only as a perſonal diſtinction; but his martial widow, diſdaining both the ſenate and Gallienus, obliged one of the Roman generals, who was ſent againſt her, to retreat into Europe, with the loſs of his army and his reputation ⁵⁹. Inſtead of the little paſ⯑ſions which ſo frequently perplex a female reign, the ſteady adminiſtration of Zenobia was guided by the moſt judicious maxims of policy. If it was expedient to pardon, ſhe could calm her reſentment: if it was neceſſary to puniſh, ſhe could impoſe ſilence on the voice of pity. Her ſtrict oeconomy was accuſed of avarice; yet on [36] every proper occaſion ſhe appeared magnificent and liberal. The neighbouring ſtates of Arabia, Armenia, and Perſia, dreaded her enmity, and ſolicited her alliance. To the dominions of Odenathus, which extended from the Euphrates to the frontiers of Bithynia, his widow added the inheritance of her anceſtors, the populous and fertile kingdom of Egypt. The emperor Clau⯑dius acknowledged her merit, and was content, that, while he purſued the Gothic war, ſhe ſhould aſſert the dignity of the empire in the Eaſt ⁶⁰. The conduct, however, of Zenobia, was attend⯑ed with ſome ambiguity; nor is it unlikely that ſhe had conceived the deſign of erecting an in⯑dependent and hoſtile monarchy. She blended with the popular manners of Roman princes the ſtately pomp of the courts of Aſia, and exacted from her ſubjects the ſame adoration that was paid to the ſucceſſors of Cyrus. She beſtowed on her three ſons ⁶¹ a Latin education, and often ſhewed them to the troops adorned with the Imperial purple. For herſelf ſhe reſerved the diadem, with the ſplendid but doubtful title of Queen of the Eaſt.

[37] When Aurelian paſſed over into Aſia, againſt an adverſary whoſe ſex alone could render her an object of contempt, his preſence reſtored obe⯑dience The expe⯑dition of Aurelian. A. D. 272. to the province of Bithynia, already ſhaken by the arms and intrigues of Zenobia ⁶². Advancing at the head of his legions, he ac⯑cepted the ſubmiſſion of Ancyra, and was ad⯑mitted into Tyana after an obſtinate ſiege, by the help of a perfidious citizen. The generous though fierce temper of Aurelian abandoned the traitor to the rage of the ſoldiers: a ſuperſtitious reverence induced him to treat with lenity the countrymen of Apollonius the philoſopher ⁶³. Antioch was deſerted on his approach, till the emperor, by his ſalutary edicts, recalled the fu⯑gitives, and granted a general pardon to all who, from neceſſity rather than choice, had been engaged in the ſervice of the Palmyrenian queen. The unexpected mildneſs of ſuch a conduct re⯑conciled the minds of the Syrians, and, as far as the gates of Emeſa, the wiſhes of the people ſeconded the terror of his arms ⁶⁴.

Zenobia would have ill deſerved her reputa⯑tion, had ſhe indolently permitted the emperor The em⯑peror de⯑feats the Palmyre⯑nians in the battles of Anti⯑och and Emeſa. of the Weſt to approach within an hundred miles of her capital. The fate of the Eaſt was decid⯑ed in two great battles; ſo ſimilar in almoſt [38] every circumſtance, that we can ſcarcely diſtin⯑guiſh them from each other, except by obſerving that the firſt was fought near Antioch ⁶⁵, and the ſecond near Emeſa ⁶⁶. In both, the queen of Palmyra animated the armies by her preſence, and devolved the execution of her orders on Zabdas, who had already ſignalized his military talents by the conqueſt of Egypt. The nume⯑rous forces of Zenobia conſiſted for the moſt part of light archers, and of heavy cavalry clothed in complete ſteel. The Mooriſh and Illyrian horſe of Aurelian were unable to ſuſtain the ponderous charge of their antagoniſts. They fled in real or affected diſorder, engaged the Palmyrenians in a laborious purſuit, haraſſed them by a deſul⯑tory combat, and at length diſcomfited this im⯑penetrable but unwieldy body of cavalry. The light infantry, in the mean time, when they had exhauſted their quivers, remaining without pro⯑tection againſt a cloſer onſet, expoſed their naked ſides to the ſwords of the legions. Aurelian had choſen theſe veteran troops, who were uſu⯑ally ſtationed on the Upper Danube, and whoſe valour had been ſeverely tried in the Alemannic war ⁶⁷. After the defeat of Emeſa, Zenobia found it impoſſible to collect a third army. As far as the frontier of Egypt, the nations ſub⯑ject to her empire had joined the ſtandard of the [39] conqueror, who detached Probus, the braveſt of his generals, to poſſeſs himſelf of the Egyp⯑tian provinces. Palmyra was the laſt reſource of the widow of Odenathus. She retired within the walls of her capital, made every preparation for a vigorous reſiſtance, and declared with the intrepidity of a heroine, that the laſt moment of her reign and of her life ſhould be the ſame.

Amid the barren deſerts of Arabia, a few cul⯑tivated The ſtate of Palmy⯑ra. ſpots riſe like iſlands out of the ſandy ocean. Even the name of Tadmor, or Palmyra, by its ſignification in the Syriac as well as in the Latin language, denoted the multitude of palm trees which afforded ſhade and verdure to that temperate region. The air was pure, and the ſoil, watered by ſome invaluable ſprings, was capable of producing fruits as well as corn. A place poſſeſſed of ſuch ſingular advantages, and ſituated at a convenient diſtance ⁶⁸ between the gulph of Perſia and the Mediterranean, was ſoon frequented by the caravans which conveyed to the nations of Europe a conſiderable part of the rich commodities of India. Palmyra inſen⯑ſibly increaſed into an opulent and independent city, and connecting the Roman and the Par⯑thian monarchies by the mutual benefits of com⯑merce, was ſuffered to obſerve an humble neu⯑trality, till at length, after the victories of Tra⯑jan, the little republic ſunk into the boſom of [40] Rome, and flouriſhed more than one hundred and fifty years in the ſubordinate though honour⯑able rank of a colony. It was during that peace⯑ful period, if we may judge from a few remain⯑ing inſcriptions, that the wealthy Palmyrenians conſtructed thoſe temples, palaces, and porticos of Grecian architecture, whoſe ruins, ſcattered over an extent of ſeveral miles, have deſerved the curioſity of our travellers. The elevation of Odenathus and Zenobia appeared to reflect new ſplendour on their country, and Palmyra, for a while, ſtood forth the rival of Rome: but the competition was fatal, and ages of proſperity were ſacrificed to a moment of glory ⁶⁹.

In his march over the ſandy deſert between It is be⯑ſieged by Aurelian, Emeſa and Palmyra, the emperor Aurelian was perpetually haraſſed by the Arabs; nor could he always defend his army, and eſpecially his bag⯑gage, from thoſe flying troops, of active and daring robbers, who watched the moment of ſurpriſe, and eluded the ſlow purſuit of the le⯑gions. The ſiege of Palmyra was an object far more difficult and important, and the emperor, who, with inceſſant vigour, preſſed the attacks in perſon, was himſelf wounded with a dart. ‘The Roman people, ſays Aurelian, in an original letter, ſpeak with contempt of the [41] war which I am waging againſt a woman. They are ignorant both of the character and of the power of Zenobia. It is impoſſible to enumerate her warlike preparations, of ſtones, of arrows, and of every ſpecies of miſſile wea⯑pons. Every part of the walls is provided with two or three baliſtae, and artificial fires are thrown from her military engines. The fear of puniſhment has armed her with a deſ⯑perate courage. Yet ſtill I truſt in the pro⯑tecting deities of Rome, who have hitherto been favourable to all my undertakings ⁷⁰.’ Doubtful, however, of the protection of the gods, and of the event of the ſiege, Aurelian judged it more prudent to offer terms of an ad⯑vantageous capitulation; to the queen, a ſplen⯑did retreat; to the citizens, their ancient privi⯑leges. His propoſals were obſtinately rejected, and the refuſal was accompanied with inſult.

The firmneſs of Zenobia was ſupported by the who be⯑comes maſter of Zenobia and of the city. hope, that in a very ſhort time famine would compel the Roman army to repaſs the deſert; and by the reaſonable expectation that the kings of the Eaſt, and particularly the Perſian monarch, would arm in the defence of their moſt natural ally. But fortune and the perſeverance of Aure⯑lian overcame every obſtacle. The death of Sapor, which happened about this time ⁷¹, diſ⯑tracted the councils of Perſia, and the incon⯑ſiderable ſuccours that attempted to relieve Pal⯑myra, [42] were eaſily intercepted either by the arms or the liberality of the emperor. From every part of Syria, a regular ſucceſſion of convoys ſafely arrived in the camp, which was increaſed by the return of Probus with his victorious troops from the conqueſt of Egypt. It was then that Zenobia reſolved to fly. She mounted the fleet⯑eſt of her dromedaries ⁷², and had already reach⯑ed the banks of the Euphrates, about ſixty miles from Palmyra, when ſhe was overtaken by the purſuit of Aurelian's light horſe, ſeized, and brought back a captive to the feet of the em⯑peror. A. D. 273. Her capital ſoon afterwards ſurrendered, and was treated with unexpected lenity. The arms, horſes, and camels, with an immenſe treaſure of gold, ſilver, ſilk, and precious ſtones, were all delivered to the conqueror, who leaving only a garriſon of ſix hundred archers, returned to Emeſa, and employed ſome time in the diſtri⯑bution of rewards and puniſhments at the end of ſo memorable a war, which reſtored to the obe⯑dience of Rome thoſe provinces that had re⯑nounced their allegiance ſince the captivity of Valerian.

When the Syrian queen was brought into the preſence of Aurelian, he ſternly aſked her, How Behaviour of Zeno⯑bia. [43] ſhe had preſumed to riſe in arms againſt the emperors of Rome! The anſwer of Zenobia was a prudent mixture of reſpect and firmneſs. ‘Be⯑cauſe I diſdained to conſider as Roman em⯑perors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my ſovereign ⁷³.’ But as female fortitude is commonly artificial, ſo it is ſeldom ſteady or conſiſtent. The courage of Zenobia deſerted her in the hour of trial; ſhe trembled at the angry clamours of the ſoldiers, who called aloud for her immediate execution, forgot the gene⯑rous deſpair of Cleopatra, which ſhe had pro⯑poſed as her model, and ignominiouſly purchaſed life by the ſacrifice of her fame and her friends. It was to their counſels which governed the weak⯑neſs of her ſex, that ſhe imputed the guilt of her obſtinate reſiſtance; it was on their heads that ſhe directed the vengeance of the cruel Aure⯑lian. The fame of Longinus, who was included among the numerous and perhaps innocent vic⯑tims of her fear, will ſurvive that of the queen who betrayed, or the tyrant who condemned him. Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce unlettered ſoldier, but they had ſerved to elevate and harmoniſe the ſoul of Lon⯑ginus. Without uttering a complaint, he calmly followed the executioner, pitying his unhappy miſtreſs, and beſtowing comfort on his afflicted friends ⁷⁴.

[44] Returning from the conqueſt of the Eaſt, Au⯑relian had already croſſed the Streights which divide Europe from Aſia, when he was pro⯑voked Rebellion and ruin of Palmy⯑ra. by the intelligence that the Palmyrenians had maſſacred the governor and garriſon which he had left among them, and again erected the ſtandard of revolt. Without a moment's deli⯑beration, he once more turned his face towards Syria. Antioch was alarmed by his rapid ap⯑proach, and the helpleſs city of Palmyra felt the irreſiſtible weight of his reſentment. We have a letter of Aurelian himſelf, in which he acknowledges ⁷⁵, that old men, women, children, and peaſants, had been involved in that dread⯑ful execution, which ſhould have been confined to armed rebellion; and although his principal concern ſeems directed to the re-eſtabliſhment of a temple of the Sun, he diſcovers ſome pity for the remnant of the Palmyrenians, to whom he grants the permiſſion of rebuilding and in⯑habiting their city. But it is eaſier to deſtroy than to reſtore. The ſeat of commerce, of arts, and of Zenobia, gradually ſunk into an obſcure town, a trifling fortreſs, and at length a miſer⯑able village. The preſent citizens of Palmyra, conſiſting of thirty or forty families, have erected their mud cottages within the ſpacious court of a magnificent temple.

Another and a laſt labour ſtill awaited the in⯑defatigable Aurelian ſuppreſſes the rebel⯑lion of Firmus in Egypt. Aurelian; to ſuppreſs a dangerous though obſcure rebel, who, during the revolt of [45] Palmyra, had ariſen on the banks of the Nile. Firmus, the friend and ally, as he proudly ſtyled himſelf, of Odenathus and Zenobia, was no more than a wealthy merchant of Egypt. In the courſe of his trade to India, he had formed very intimate connexions with the Saracens and the Blemmyes, whoſe ſituation on either coaſt of the Red Sea gave them an eaſy introduction into the Upper Egypt. The Egyptians he inflamed with the hope of freedom, and, at the head of their furious multitude, broke into the city of Alex⯑andria, where he aſſumed the Imperial purple, coined money, publiſhed edicts, and raiſed an army, which, as he vainly boaſted, he was capa⯑ble of maintaining from the ſole profits of his paper trade. Such troops were a feeble defence againſt the approach of Aurelian; and it ſeems almoſt unneceſſary to relate, that Firmus was routed, taken, tortured, and put to death. Aurelian might now congratulate the ſenate, the people, and himſelf, that in little more than three years, he had reſtored univerſal peace and order to the Roman world ⁷⁶.

Since the foundation of Rome, no general had A. D 274. more nobly deſerved a triumph than Aurelian; Triumph of Aure⯑lian. nor was a triumph ever celebrated with ſuperior [46] pride and magnificence ⁷⁷. The pomp was opened by twenty elephants, four royal tigers, and above two hundred of the moſt curious animals from every climate of the North, the Eaſt, and the South. They were followed by ſixteen hundred gladiators, devoted to the cruel amuſement of the amphitheatre. The wealth of Aſia, the arms and enſigns of ſo many conquered nations, and the magnificent plate and wardrobe of the Syrian queen, were diſpoſed in exact ſymmetry or artful diſorder. The ambaſſadors of the moſt remote parts of the earth, of Aethio⯑pia, Arabia, Perſia, Bactriana, India, and China, all remarkable by their rich or ſingular dreſſes, diſplayed the fame and power of the Roman emperor, who expoſed likewiſe to the public view the preſents that he had received, and particu⯑larly a great number of crowns of gold, the offer⯑ings of grateful cities. The victories of Aure⯑lian were atteſted by the long train of captives who reluctantly attended his triumph, Goths, Vandals, Sarmatians, Alemanni, Franks, Gauls, Syrians, and Egyptians. Each people was diſ⯑tinguiſhed by its peculiar inſcription, and the title of Amazons was beſtowed on ten martial heroines of the Gothic nation who had been taken in arms ⁷⁸. But every eye, diſregarding [47] the crowd of captives, was fixed on the emperor Tetricus, and the queen of the Eaſt. The for⯑mer, as well as his ſon, whom he had created Auguſtus, was dreſſed in Gallic trowſers ⁷⁹, a ſaffron tunic, and a robe of purple. The beau⯑teous figure of Zenobia was confined by fetters of gold; a ſlave ſupported the gold chain which encircled her neck, and ſhe almoſt fainted under the intolerable weight of jewels. She preceded on foot the magnificent chariot, in which ſhe once hoped to enter the gates of Rome. It was followed by two other chariots, ſtill more ſump⯑tuous, of Odenathus and of the Perſian monarch. The triumphal car of Aurelian (it had formerly been uſed by a Gothic king) was drawn, on this memorable occaſion, either by four ſtags or by four elephants ⁸⁰. The moſt illuſtrious of the ſenate, the people, and the army, cloſed the ſo⯑lemn proceſſion. Unfeigned joy, wonder, and gratitude, ſwelled the acclamations of the mul⯑titude; but the ſatisfaction of the ſenate was clouded by the appearance of Tetricus; nor could they ſuppreſs a riſing murmur, that the haughty emperor ſhould thus expoſe to public [48] ignominy the perſon of a Roman and a magi⯑ſtrate ⁸¹.

But however, in the treatment of his unfor⯑tunate rivals, Aurelian might indulge his pride, His treat⯑ment of Tetricus and Zeno⯑bia. he behaved towards them with a generous cle⯑mency, which was ſeldom exerciſed by the an⯑cient conquerors. Princes who, without ſucceſs, had defended their throne or freedom, were fre⯑quently ſtrangled in priſon, as ſoon as the tri⯑umphal pomp aſcended the Capitol. Theſe uſurpers, whom their defeat had convicted of the crime of treaſon, were permitted to ſpend their lives in affluence and honourable repoſe. The emperor preſented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur, or Tivoli, about twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen inſenſibly ſunk into a Roman matron, her daughters married into noble families, and her race was not yet extinct in the fifth century ⁸². Tetricus and his ſon were re-inſtated in their rank and fortunes. They erected on the Caelian hill a magnificent palace, and as ſoon as it was finiſhed, invited Aurelian to ſupper. On his entrance, he was agreeably ſurpriſed with a picture which repreſented their ſingular hiſtory. They were delineated offering to the emperor a civic crown and the ſceptre of Gaul, and again receiving at his hands the orna⯑ments [49] of the ſenatorial dignity. The father was afterwards inveſted with the government of Lu⯑cania ⁸³, and Aurelian, who ſoon admitted the abdicated monarch to his friendſhip and con⯑verſation, familiarly aſked him, Whether it were not more deſirable to adminiſter a province of Italy, than to reign beyond the Alps? The ſon long continued a reſpectable member of the ſenate; nor was there any one of the Roman nobility more eſteemed by Aurelian, as well as by his ſucceſſors ⁸⁴.

So long and ſo various was the pomp of Au⯑relian's His mag⯑nificence and devo⯑tion. triumph, that although it opened with the dawn of day, the ſlow majeſty of the pro⯑ceſſion aſcended not the Capitol before the ninth hour; and it was already dark when the emperor returned to the palace. The ſeſtival was pro⯑tracted by theatrical repreſentations, the games of the circus, the hunting of wild beaſts, com⯑bats of gladiators, and naval engagements. Li⯑eral donatives were diſtributed to the army and people, and ſeveral inſtitutions, agreeable or be⯑neficial to the city, contributed to perpetuate the glory of Aurelian. A conſiderable portion of his oriental ſpoils was conſecrated to the gods of Rome; the Capitol, and every other temple, glittered with the offerings of his oſtentatious piety; and the temple of the Sun alone received [50] above fifteen thouſand pounds of gold ⁸⁵. This laſt was a magnificent ſtructure, erected by the emperor on the ſide of the Quirinal hill, and dedicated, ſoon after the triumph, to that deity whom Aurelian adored as the parent of his life and fortunes. His mother had been an inferior prieſteſs in a chapel of the Sun; a peculiar de⯑votion to the god of Light, was a ſentiment which the fortunate peaſant imbibed in his in⯑fancy; and every ſtep of his elevation, every victory of his reign, fortified ſuperſtition by gra⯑titude ⁸⁶.

The arms of Aurelian had vanquiſhed the fo⯑reign and domeſtic foes of the Republic. We He ſup⯑preſſes a ſedition at Rome. are aſſured, that, by his ſalutary rigour, crimes and factions, miſchievous arts and pernicious connivance, the luxuriant growth of a feeble and oppreſſive government, were eradicated through⯑out the Roman world ⁸⁷. But if we attentively reflect how much ſwifter is the progreſs of cor⯑ruption than its cure, and if we remember that the years abandoned to public diſorders exceeded the months allotted to the martial reign of Aure⯑lian, we muſt confeſs that a few ſhort intervals of peace were inſufficient for the arduous work [51] of reformation. Even his attempt to reſtore the integrity of the coin, was oppoſed by a formid⯑able inſurrection. The emperor's vexation breaks out in one of his private letters. ‘Surely, ſays he, the gods have decreed that my life ſhould be a perpetual warfare. A ſedition within the walls has juſt now given birth to a very ſerious civil war. The workmen of the mint, at the inſtigation of Feliciſſimus, a ſlave to whom I had intruſted an employment in the finances, have riſen in rebellion. They are at length ſuppreſſed; but ſeven thouſand of my ſoldiers have been ſlain in the conteſt, of thoſe troops whoſe ordinary ſtation is in Dacia, and the camps along the Danube ⁸⁸.’ Other writers, who confirm the ſame fact, add likewiſe, that it happened ſoon after Aurelian's triumph; that the deciſive engagement was fought on the Caelian hill; that the workmen of the mint had adulterated the coin; and that the emperor reſtored the public credit, by deliver⯑ing out good money in exchange for the bad, which the people was commanded to bring into the treaſury ⁸⁹.

We might content ourſelves with relating this Obſerva⯑tions upon it. extraordinary tranſaction, but we cannot diſſem⯑ble how much in its preſent form it appears to us inconſiſtent and incredible. The debaſement of the coin is indeed well ſuited to the admini⯑ſtration of Gallienus; nor is it unlikely that the [52] inſtruments of the corruption might dread the inflexible juſtice of Aurelian. But the guilt, as well as the profit, muſt have been confined to a few; nor is it eaſy to conceive by what arts they could arm a people whom they had injured, againſt a monarch whom they had betrayed. We might naturally expect, that ſuch miſcreants ſhould have ſhared the public deteſtation, with the informers and the other miniſters of oppreſ⯑ſion; and that the reformation of the coin ſhould have been an action equally popular with the deſtruction of thoſe obſolete accounts, which by the emperor's orders were burnt in the forum of Trajan ⁹⁰. In an age when the principles of commerce were ſo imperfectly underſtood, the moſt deſirable end might perhaps be effected by harſh and injudicious means; but a temporary grievance of ſuch a nature can ſcarcely excite and ſupport a ſerious civil war. The repetition of intolerable taxes, impoſed either on the land or on the neceſſaries of life, may at laſt provoke thoſe who will not, or who cannot, relinquiſh their country. But the caſe is far otherwiſe in every operation which, by whatſoever expedients, reſtores the juſt value of money. The tranſient evil is ſoon obliterated by the permanent bene⯑fit, the loſs is divided among multitudes; and if a few wealthy individuals experience a ſenſible diminution of treaſure, with their riches, they at the ſame time loſe the degree of weight and importance which they derived from the poſſeſ⯑ſion [53] of them. However Aurelian might chuſe to diſguiſe the real cauſe of the inſurrection, his reformation of the coin could only furniſh a faint pretence to a party already powerful and diſcontented. Rome, though deprived of free⯑dom, was diſtracted by faction. The people, towards whom the emperor, himſelf a plebeian, always expreſſed a peculiar fondneſs, lived in per⯑petual diſſention with the ſenate, the equeſtrian order, and the Praetorian guards ⁹¹. Nothing leſs than the firm though ſecret conſpiracy of thoſe orders, of the authority of the firſt, the wealth of the ſecond, and the arms of the third, could have diſplayed a ſtrength capable of con⯑tending in battle with the veteran legions of the Danube, which, under the conduct of a martial ſovereign, had atchieved the conqueſt of the Weſt and of the Eaſt.

Whatever was the cauſe or the object of this Cruelty of Aurelian. rebellion, imputed with ſo little probability to the workmen of the mint, Aurelian uſed his vic⯑tory with unrelenting rigour ⁹². He was natu⯑rally of a ſevere diſpoſition. A peaſant and a ſoldier, his nerves yielded not eaſily to the im⯑preſſions of ſympathy, and he could ſuſtain with⯑out emotion the ſight of tortures and death. Trained from his earlieſt youth in the exerciſe of arms, he ſet too ſmall a value on the life of a [54] citizen, chaſtiſed by military execution the ſlight⯑eſt offences, and transferred the ſtern diſcipline of the camp into the civil adminiſtration of the laws. His love of juſtice often became a blind and furious paſſion; and whenever he deemed his own or the public ſafety endangered, he diſ⯑regarded the rules of evidence, and the propor⯑tion of puniſhments. The unprovoked rebel⯑lion with which the Romans rewarded his ſer⯑vices, exaſperated his haughty ſpirit. The no⯑bleſt families of the capital were involved in the guilt or ſuſpicion of this dark conſpiracy. A haſty ſpirit of revenge urged the bloody proſe⯑cution, and it proved fatal to one of the nephews of the emperor. The executioners (if we may uſe the expreſſion of a contemporary poet) were fatigued, the priſons were crowded, and the un⯑happy ſenate lamented the death or abſence of its moſt illuſtrious members ⁹³. Nor was the pride of Aurelian leſs offenſive to that aſſembly than his cruelty. Ignorant or impatient of the reſtraints of civil inſtitutions, he diſdained to hold his power by any other title than that of the ſword, and governed by right of conqueſt an empire which he had ſaved and ſubdued ⁹⁴.

[55] It was obſerved by one of the moſt ſagacious of the Roman princes, that the talents of his pre⯑deceſſor Aurelian, were better ſuited to the com⯑mand He march⯑es into the Eaſt, and is aſſaſſi⯑nated. of an army, than to the government of an empire ⁹⁵. Conſcious of the character in which Nature and experience had enabled him to excel, he again took the field a few months after his triumph. It was expedient to exerciſe the reſt⯑leſs A. D. 274. October. temper of the legions in ſome foreign war, and the Perſian monarch, exulting in the ſhame of Valerian, ſtill braved with impunity the of⯑fended majeſty of Rome. At the head of an army, leſs formidable by its numbers than by its diſcipline and valour, the emperor advanced as far as the Streights which divide Europe from Aſia. He there experienced, that the moſt ab⯑ſolute power is a weak defence againſt the effects of deſpair. He had threatened one of his ſecre⯑taries who was accuſed of extortion; and it was known that he ſeldom threatened in vain. The laſt hope which remained for the criminal, was to involve ſome of the principal officers of the army in his danger, or at leaſt in his fears. Artfully counterfeiting his maſter's hand, he ſhewed them, in a long and bloody liſt, their own names devoted to death. Without ſuſpect⯑ing or examining the fraud, they reſolved to ſecure their lives by the murder of the emperor. On his march, between Byzantium and Heraclea, Aurelian was ſuddenly attacked by the conſpira⯑tors, [56] whoſe ſtations gave them a right to ſur⯑round his perſon, and, after a ſhort reſiſtance, fell by the hand of Mucapor, a general whom he had always loved and truſted. He died A. D. 275. January. regretted by the army, deteſted by the ſenate, but univerſally acknowledged as a warlike and fortunate prince, the uſeful though ſevere re⯑former of a degenerate ſtate ⁹⁶.

CHAP. XII. Conduct of the Army and Senate after the Death of Aurelian.—Reigns of Tacitus, Probus, Carus, and his Sons.

SUCH was the unhappy condition of the Ro⯑man emperors, that, whatever might be their conduct, their fate was commonly the ſame. A Extraordi⯑nary con⯑teſt be⯑tween the army and the ſenate for the choice of an empe⯑ror. life of pleaſure or virtue, of ſeverity or mildneſs, of indolence or glory, alike led to an untimely grave; and almoſt every reign is cloſed by the ſame diſguſting repetition of treaſon and murder. The death of Aurelian, however, is remarkable by its extraordinary conſequences. The legions admired, lamented, and revenged, their victo⯑rious chief. The artifice of his perfidious ſecre⯑tary was diſcovered and puniſhed. The deluded conſpirators attended the funeral of their injured ſovereign, with ſincere or well-feigned contri⯑tion, and ſubmitted to the unanimous reſolution of the military order, which was ſignified by the following epiſtle. ‘The brave and fortunate armies to the ſenate and people of Rome. The crime of one man, and the error of many, have deprived us of the late emperor Aurelian. May it pleaſe you, venerable lords and fathers! to place him in the number of the gods, and to appoint a ſucceſſor whom your judgment ſhall declare worthy of the Imperial purple! None of thoſe, whoſe guilt or misfortune have [58] contributed to our loſs, ſhall ever reign over us ¹.’ The Roman ſenators heard, without ſurpriſe, that another emperor had been aſſaſſi⯑nated in his camp: they ſecretly rejoiced in the fall of Aurelian; but the modeſt and dutiful ad⯑dreſs of the legions, when it was communicated in full aſſembly by the conſul, diffuſed the moſt pleaſing aſtoniſhment. Such honours as fear and perhaps eſteem could extort, they liberally poured forth on the memory of their deceaſed ſovereign. Such acknowledgments as gratitude could in⯑ſpire, they returned to the faithful armies of the republic, who entertained ſo juſt a ſenſe of the legal authority of the ſenate in the choice of an emperor. Yet, notwithſtanding this flattering appeal, the moſt prudent of the aſſembly declined expoſing their ſafety and dignity to the caprice of an armed multitude. The ſtrength of the le⯑gions was, indeed, a pledge of their ſincerity, ſince thoſe who may command are ſeldom re⯑duced to the neceſſity of diſſembling; but could it naturally be expected, that a haſty repentance would correct the inveterate habits of fourſcore years? Should the ſoldiers relapſe into their ac⯑cuſtomed ſeditions, their inſolence might diſgrace the majeſty of the ſenate, and prove fatal to the object of its choice. Motives like theſe dictated a decree, by which the election of a new em⯑peror was referred to the ſuffrage of the military order.

[59] The contention that enſued is one of the beſt atteſted, but moſt improbable events in the hiſ⯑tory of mankind ². The troops, as if ſatiated A. D. 275. Feb. 3. with the exerciſe of power, again conjured the A peaceful interreg⯑num of eight months. ſenate to inveſt one of its own body with the Im⯑perial purple. The ſenate ſtill perſiſted in its re⯑fuſal; the army in its requeſt. The reciprocal offer was preſſed and rejected at leaſt three times, and whilſt the obſtinate modeſty of either party was reſolved to receive a maſter from the hands of the other, eight months inſenſibly elapſed: an amazing period of tranquil anarchy, during which the Roman world remained without a ſovereign, without an uſurper, and without a ſedition. The generals and magiſtrates appointed by Aurelian continued to execute their ordinary functions; and it is obſerved, that a proconſul of Aſia was the only conſiderable perſon removed from his office, in the whole courſe of the interregnum.

An event ſomewhat ſimilar, but much leſs au⯑thentic, is ſuppoſed to have happened after the death of Romulus, who, in his life and character, bore ſome affinity with Aurelian. The throne was vacant during twelve months, till the elec⯑tion of a Sabine philoſopher, and the public peace was guarded in the ſame manner, by the union of the ſeveral orders of the ſtate. But, in the [60] time of Numa and Romulus, the arms of the people were controlled by the authority of the Patricians; and the balance of freedom was eaſily preſerved in a ſmall and virtuous community ³. The decline of the Roman ſtate, far different from its infancy, was attended with every cir⯑cumſtance that could baniſh from an interregnum the proſpect of obedience and harmony: an im⯑menſe and tumultuous capital, a wide extent of empire, the ſervile equality of deſpotiſm, an army of four hundred thouſand mercenaries, and the experience of frequent revolutions. Yet, notwithſtanding all theſe temptations, the diſci⯑pline and memory of Aurelian ſtill reſtrained the ſeditious temper of the troops, as well as the fatal ambition of their leaders. The flower of the legions maintained their ſtations on the banks of the Boſphorus, and the Imperial ſtandard awed the leſs powerful camps of Rome and of the pro⯑vinces. A generous though tranſient enthuſiaſm ſeemed to animate the military order; and we may hope that a few real patriots cultivated the returning friendſhip of the army and the ſenate, as the only expedient capable of reſtoring the re⯑public to its ancient beauty and vigour.

On the twenty-fifth of September, near eight months after the murder of Aurelian, the conſul A. D. 275. Sept. 25. convoked an aſſembly of the ſenate, and reported The conſul aſſembles the ſenate. [61] the doubtful and dangerous ſituation of the em⯑pire. He ſlightly inſinuated, that the precarious loyalty of the ſoldiers depended on the chance of every hour, and of every accident; but he re⯑preſented, with the moſt convincing eloquence, the various dangers that might attend any far⯑ther delay in the choice of an emperor. Intelli⯑gence, he ſaid, was already received, that the Germans had paſſed the Rhine, and occupied ſome of the ſtrongeſt and moſt opulent cities of Gaul. The ambition of the Perſian king kept the Eaſt in perpetual alarms; Egypt, Africa, and Illyricum, were expoſed to foreign and domeſtic arms, and the levity of Syria would prefer even a female ſceptre to the ſanctity of the Roman laws. The conſul then addreſſing himſelf to Ta⯑citus, the firſt of the ſenators ⁴, required his opinion on the important ſubject of a proper can⯑didate for the vacant throne.

If we can prefer perſonal merit to accidental greatneſs, we ſhall eſteem the birth of Tacitus Character of Taci⯑tus. more truly noble than that of kings. He claimed his deſcent from the philoſophic hiſtorian, whoſe writings will inſtruct the laſt generations of man⯑kind ⁵. The ſenator Tacitus was then ſeventy-five [62] years of age ⁶. The long period of his in⯑nocent life was adorned with wealth and honours. He had twice been inveſted with the conſular dignity ⁷, and enjoyed with elegance and ſobriety his ample patrimony of between two and three millions ſterling ⁸. The experience of ſo many princes, whom he had eſteemed or endured, from the vain follies of Elagabalus to the uſeful rigour of Aurelian, taught him to form a juſt eſtimate of the duties, the dangers, and the temptations, of their ſublime ſtation. From the aſſiduous ſtudy of his immortal anceſtor he derived the knowledge of the Roman conſtitution, and of human nature ⁹. The voice of the people had already named Tacitus as the citizen the moſt worthy of empire. The ungrateful rumour reached his ears, and induced him to ſeek the retirement of one of his villas in Campania. He had paſſed two months in the delightful privacy of Baiae, when he reluctantly obeyed the ſum⯑mons [63] of the conſul to reſume his honourable place in the ſenate, and to aſſiſt the republic with his counſels on this important occaſion.

He aroſe to ſpeak, when, from every quarter of the houſe, he was ſaluted with the names of He is elect⯑ed empe⯑ror, Auguſtus and Emperor. ‘Tacitus Auguſtus, the gods preſerve thee, we chuſe thee for our ſovereign, to thy care we intruſt the republic and the world. Accept the empire from the authority of the ſenate. It is due to thy rank, to thy conduct, to thy manners.’ As ſoon as the tumult of acclamations ſubſided, Tacitus attempted to decline the dangerous honour, and to expreſs his wonder, that they ſhould elect his age and infirmities to ſucceed the martial vigour of Aurelian. ‘Are theſe limbs, conſcript fa⯑thers! fitted to ſuſtain the weight of armour, or to practiſe the exerciſes of the camp? The variety of climates, and the hardſhips of a mi⯑litary life, would ſoon oppreſs a feeble con⯑ſtitution, which ſubſiſts only by the moſt tender management. My exhauſted ſtrength ſcarcely enables me to diſcharge the duty of a ſenator; how inſufficient would it prove to the arduous labours of war and government? Can you hope, that the legions will reſpect a weak old man, whoſe days have been ſpent in the ſhade of peace and retirement? Can you de⯑ſire that I ſhould ever find reaſon to regret the favourable opinion of the ſenate ¹⁰?’

The reluctance of Tacitus, and it might poſ⯑ſibly and ac⯑cepts the purple. be ſincere, was encountered by the affec⯑tionate [64] obſtinacy of the ſenate. Five hundred voices repeated at once, in eloquent confuſion, that the greateſt of the Roman princes, Numa, Trajan, Hadrian, and the Antonines, had aſcend⯑ed the throne in a very advanced ſeaſon of life; that the mind, not the body, a ſovereign, not a ſoldier, was the object of their choice; and that they expected from him no more than to guide by his wiſdom the valour of the legions. Theſe preſſing though tumultuary inſtances were ſe⯑conded by a more regular oration of Metius Fal⯑conius, the next on the conſular bench to Ta⯑citus himſelf. He reminded the aſſembly of the evils which Rome had endured from the vices of headſtrong and capricious youths, congratulated them on the election of a virtuous and experi⯑enced ſenator, and, with a manly, though per⯑haps a ſelfiſh, freedom, exhorted Tacitus to re⯑member the reaſons of his elevation, and to ſeek a ſucceſſor, not in his own family, but in the republic. The ſpeech of Falconius was enforced by a general acclamation. The emperor elect ſubmitted to the authority of his country, and received the voluntary homage of his equals. The judgment of the ſenate was confirmed by the conſent of the Roman people, and of the Prae⯑torian guards ¹¹.

The adminiſtration of Tacitus was not un⯑worthy of his life and principles. A grateful Authority of the ſe⯑nate. ſervant of the ſenate, he conſidered that national [65] council as the author, and himſelf as the ſubject, of the laws ¹². He ſtudied to heal the wounds which Imperial pride, civil diſcord, and military violence, had inflicted on the conſtitution, and to reſtore, at leaſt, the image of the ancient re⯑public, as it had been preſerved by the policy of Auguſtus, and the virtues of Trajan and the An⯑tonines. It may not be uſeleſs to recapitulate ſome of the moſt important prerogatives which the ſenate appeared to have regained by the elec⯑tion of Tacitus ¹³. 1. To inveſt one of their body, under the title of emperor, with the ge⯑neral command of the armies and the govern⯑ment of the frontier provinces. 2. To deter⯑mine the liſt, or as it was then ſtyled, the Col⯑lege of Conſuls. They were twelve in number, who, in ſucceſſive pairs, each, during the ſpace of two months, filled the year, and repreſented the dignity of that ancient office. The authority of the ſenate, in the nomination of the conſuls, was exerciſed with ſuch independent freedom, that no regard was paid to an irregular requeſt of the emperor in favour of his brother Florianus. ‘The ſenate, exclaimed Tacitus, with the ho⯑neſt tranſport of a patriot, underſtand the cha⯑racter of a prince whom they have choſen.’ [66] 3. To appoint the proconſuls and preſidents of the provinces, and to confer on all the magi⯑ſtrates their civil juriſdiction. 4. To receive ap⯑peals through the intermediate office of the prae⯑fect of the city from all the tribunals of the em⯑pire. 5. To give force and validity, by their decrees, to ſuch as they ſhould approve of the emperor's edicts. 6. To theſe ſeveral branches of authority, we may add ſome inſpection over the finances, ſince, even in the ſtern reign of Aurelian, it was in their power to divert a part of the revenue from the public ſervice ¹⁴.

Circular epiſtles were ſent, without delay, to Their joy and confi⯑dence. all the principal cities of the empire, Treves, Milan, Aquileia, Theſſalonica, Corinth, Athens, Antioch, Alexandria, and Carthage, to claim their obedience, and to inform them of the happy revolution, which had reſtored the Roman ſenate to its ancient dignity. Two of theſe epiſtles are ſtill extant. We likewiſe poſſeſs two very ſin⯑gular fragments of the private correſpondence of the ſenators on this occaſion. They diſcover the moſt exceſſive joy, and the moſt unbounded hopes. ‘Caſt away your indolence, it is thus that one of the ſenators addreſſes his friend, emerge from your retirements of Baiae and Puteoli. Give yourſelf to the city, to the ſe⯑nate. Rome flouriſhes, the whole republic flouriſhes. Thanks to the Roman army, to an army truly Roman; at length, we have re⯑covered [67] our juſt authority, the end of all our deſires. We hear appeals, we appoint pro⯑conſuls, we create emperors; perhaps too we may reſtrain them—to the wiſe, a word is ſuf⯑ficient ¹⁵.’ Theſe lofty expectations were, how⯑ever, ſoon diſappointed; nor, indeed, was it poſ⯑ſible, that the armies and the provinces ſhould long obey the luxurious and unwarlike nobles of Rome. On the ſlighteſt touch, the unſupported fabric of their pride and power fell to the ground. The expiring ſenate diſplayed a ſudden luſtre, blazed for a moment, and was extinguiſhed for ever.

All that had yet paſſed at Rome was no more than a theatrical repreſentation, unleſs it was ra⯑tified A. D. 276. Tacitus is acknow⯑ledged by the army. by the more ſubſtantial power of the le⯑gions. Leaving the ſenators to enjoy their dream of freedom and ambition, Tacitus proceeded to the Thracian camp, and was there, by the Prae⯑torian praefect, preſented to the aſſembled troops, as the prince whom they themſelves had de⯑manded, and whom the ſenate had beſtowed. As ſoon as the praefect was ſilent, the emperor addreſſed himſelf to the ſoldiers with eloquence and propriety. He gratified their avarice by a liberal diſtribution of treaſure, under the names of pay and donative. He engaged their eſteem by a ſpirited declaration, that although his age might diſable him from the performance of mili⯑tary exploits, his counſels ſhould never be un⯑worthy [68] of a Roman general, the ſucceſſor of the brave Aurelian ¹⁶.

Whilſt the deceaſed emperor was making pre⯑parations for a ſecond expedition into the Eaſt, The Alani invade Aſia, and are repulſ⯑ed by Ta⯑citus. he had negociated with the Alani, a Scythian people, who pitched their tents in the neighbour⯑hood of the lake Moeotis. Thoſe barbarians, al⯑lured by preſents and ſubſidies, had promiſed to invade Perſia with a numerous body of light ca⯑valry. They were faithful to their engagements; but when they arrived on the Roman frontier, Aurelian was already dead, the deſign of the Perſian war was at leaſt ſuſpended, and the ge⯑nerals, who, during their interregnum, exerciſed a doubtful authority, were unprepared either to receive or to oppoſe them. Provoked by ſuch treatment, which they conſidered as trifling and perfidious, the Alani had recourſe to their own valour for their payment and revenge; and as they moved with the uſual ſwiftneſs of Tartars, they had ſoon ſpread themſelves over the pro⯑vinces of Pontus, Cappadocia, Cilicia, and Ga⯑latia. The legions, who from the oppoſite ſhores of the Boſphorus could almoſt diſtinguiſh the flames of the cities and villages, impatiently urged their general to lead them againſt the in⯑vaders. The conduct of Tacitus was ſuitable to his age and ſtation. He convinced the barba⯑rians, of the faith, as well as of the power, of the empire. Great numbers of the Alani, ap⯑peaſed by the punctual diſcharge of the engage⯑ments [69] which Aurelian had contracted with them, relinquiſhed their booty and captives, and quietly retreated to their own deſerts, beyond the Phaſis. Againſt the remainder who refuſed peace, the Roman emperor waged, in perſon, a ſucceſsful war. Seconded by an army of brave and expe⯑rienced veterans, in a few weeks he delivered the provinces of Aſia from the terror of the Scythian invaſion ¹⁷.

But the glory and life of Tacitus were of ſhort Death of the empe⯑ror Taci⯑tus. duration. Tranſported, in the depth of winter, from the ſoft retirement of Campania, to the foot of mount Caucaſus, he ſunk under the unaccuſ⯑tomed hardſhips of a military life. The fatigues of the body were aggravated by the cares of the mind. For a while, the angry and ſelfiſh paſſions of the ſoldiers had been ſuſpended by the enthu⯑ſiaſm of public virtue. They ſoon broke out with redoubled violence, and raged in the camp, and even in the tent, of the aged emperor. His mild and amiable character ſerved only to inſpire contempt, and he was inceſſantly tormented with factions which he could not aſſuage, and by de⯑mands which it was impoſſible to ſatisfy. What⯑ever flattering expectations he had conceived of reconciling the public diſorders, Tacitus ſoon was convinced, that the licentiouſneſs of the army [70] diſdained the feeble reſtraint of laws, and his laſt hour was haſtened by anguiſh and diſappoint⯑ment. It may be doubtful whether the ſoldiers imbrued their hands in the blood of this innocent prince ¹⁸. It is certain, that their inſolence was the cauſe of his death. He expired at Tyana in Cappadocia, after a reign of only ſix months and A. D. 276. April 12. about twenty days ¹⁹.

The eyes of Tacitus were ſcarcely cloſed, be⯑fore Uſurpation and death of his bro⯑ther Flori⯑anus. his brother Florianus ſhewed himſelf unwor⯑thy to reign, by the haſty uſurpation of the purple, without expecting the approbation of the ſenate. The reverence for the Roman conſtitu⯑tion, which yet influenced the camp and the provinces, was ſufficiently ſtrong to diſpoſe them to cenſure, but not to provoke them to oppoſe, the precipitate ambition of Florianus. The diſ⯑content would have evaporated in idle murmurs, had not the general of the Eaſt, the heroic Pro⯑bus, boldly declared himſelf the avenger of the ſenate. The conteſt, however, was ſtill unequal; nor could the moſt able leader, at the head of the effeminate troops of Egypt and Syria, en⯑counter, with any hopes of victory, the legions of Europe, whoſe irreſiſtible ſtrength appeared to ſupport the brother of Tacitus. But the fortune [71] and activity of Probus triumphed over every ob⯑ſtacle. The hardy veterans of his rival, accuſ⯑tomed to cold climates, ſickened and conſumed away in the ſultry heats of Cilicia, where the ſummer proved remarkably unwholeſome. Their numbers were diminiſhed by frequent deſertion, the paſſes of the mountains were feebly defended; Tarſus opened its gates, and the ſoldiers of Flo⯑rianus, when they had permitted him to enjoy the Imperial title about three months, delivered the empire from civil war by the eaſy ſacrifice of July. a prince whom they deſpiſed ²⁰.

The perpetual revolutions of the throne had ſo Their fa⯑mily ſub⯑ſiſts in ob⯑ſcurity. perfectly eraſed every notion of hereditary right, that the family of an unfortunate emperor was in⯑capable of exciting the jealouſy of his ſucceſſors. The children of Tacitus and Florianus were per⯑mitted to deſcend into a private ſtation, and to mingle with the general maſs of the people. Their poverty indeed became an additional ſafe⯑guard to their innocence. When Tacitus was elected by the ſenate, he reſigned his ample pa⯑trimony to the public ſervice ²¹, an act of gene⯑roſity ſpecious in appearance, but which evidently diſcloſed his intention of tranſmitting the empire to his deſcendants. The only conſolation of their fallen ſtate, was the remembrance of tranſient [72] greatneſs, and a diſtant hope, the child of a flat⯑tering prophecy, that at the end of a thouſand years, a monarch of the race of Tacitus ſhould ariſe, the protector of the ſenate, the reſtorer of Rome, and the conqueror of the whole earth ²².

The peaſants of Illyricum, who had already Character and eleva⯑tion of the emperor Probus. given Claudius and Aurelian to the ſinking em⯑pire, had an equal right to glory in the elevation of Probus ²³. Above twenty years before, the emperor Valerian, with his uſual penetration, had diſcovered the riſing merit of the young ſoldier, on whom he conferred the rank of tribune, long before the age preſcribed by the military regula⯑tions. The tribune ſoon juſtified his choice, by a victory over a great body of Sarmatians, in which he ſaved the life of a near relation of Va⯑lerian; and deſerved to receive from the empe⯑ror's hand the collars, bracelets, ſpears, and ban⯑ners, the mural and the civic crown, and all the honourable rewards reſerved by ancient Rome for ſucceſsful valour. The third, and afterwards the tenth, legion were intruſted to the command of Probus, who, in every ſtep of his promotion, ſhewed himſelf ſuperior to the ſtation which he filled. Africa and Pontus, the Rhine, the Da⯑nube, the Euphrates, and the Nile, by turns af⯑forded [73] him the moſt ſplendid occaſions of diſplay⯑ing his perſonal proweſs and his conduct in war. Aurelian was indebted to him for the conqueſt of Egypt, and ſtill more indebted for the honeſt courage with which he often checked the cruelty of his maſter. Tacitus, who deſired by the abi⯑lities of his generals to ſupply his own deficiency of military talents, named him commander in chief of all the eaſtern provinces, with five times the uſual ſalary, the promiſe of the conſulſhip, and the hope of a triumph. When Probus aſcended the Imperial throne, he was about forty-four years of age ²⁴; in the full poſſeſſion of his fame, of the love of the army, and of a mature vigour of mind and body.

His acknowledged merit, and the ſucceſs of His re⯑ſpectful conduct towards the ſenate. his arms againſt Florianus, left him without an enemy or a competitor. Yet, if we may credit his own profeſſions, very far from being deſirous of the empire, he had accepted it with the moſt ſincere reluctance. ‘But it is no longer in my power, ſays Probus, in a private letter, to lay down a title ſo full of envy and of danger. I muſt continue to perſonate the character which the ſoldiers have impoſed upon me ²⁵.’ His dutiful addreſs to the ſenate diſplayed the ſentiments, or at leaſt the language, of a Roman patriot; ‘When you elected one of your order, [74] conſcript fathers! to ſucceed the emperor Au⯑relian, you acted in a manner ſuitable to your juſtice and wiſdom. For you are the legal ſo⯑vereigns of the world, and the power which you derive from your anceſtors, will deſcend to your poſterity. Happy would it have been, if Florianus, inſtead of uſurping the purple of his brother, like a private inheritance, had ex⯑pected what your majeſty might determine, either in his favour, or in that of any other perſon. The prudent ſoldiers have puniſhed his raſhneſs. To me they have offered the title of Auguſtus. But I ſubmit to your cle⯑mency my pretenſions and my merits ²⁶.’ When this reſpectful epiſtle was read by the con⯑ſul, A. D. 276. Auguſt 3. the ſenators were unable to diſguiſe their ſa⯑tisfaction, that Probus ſhould condeſcend thus humbly to ſolicit a ſceptre which he already poſ⯑ſeſſed. They celebrated with the warmeſt gra⯑titude his virtues, his exploits, and above all his moderation. A decree immediately paſſed, with⯑out a diſſenting voice, to ratify the election of the eaſtern armies, and to confer on their chief all the ſeveral branches of the Imperial dignity: the names of Caeſar and Auguſtus, the title of Father of his country, the right of making in the ſame day three motions in the ſenate ²⁷, the office [75] of Pontifex Maximus, the tribunitian power, and the proconſular command; a mode of inveſti⯑ture, which, though it ſeemed to multiply the authority of the emperor, expreſſed the conſtitu⯑tion of the ancient republic. The reign of Pro⯑bus correſponded with this fair beginning. The ſenate was permitted to direct the civil admini⯑ſtration of the empire. Their faithful general aſſerted the honour of the Roman arms, and often laid at their feet crowns of gold and barbaric trophies, the fruits of his numerous victories ²⁸. Yet, whilſt he gratified their vanity, he muſt ſe⯑cretly have deſpiſed their indolence and weakneſs. Though it was every moment in their power to repeal the diſgraceful edict of Gallienus, the proud ſucceſſors of the Scipios patiently acquieſced in their excluſion from all military employments. They ſoon experienced, that thoſe who refuſe the ſword, muſt renounce the ſceptre.

The ſtrength of Aurelian had cruſhed on every ſide the enemies of Rome. After his death they Victories of Probus over the barba⯑rians. ſeemed to revive with an increaſe of fury and of numbers. They were again vanquiſhed by the active vigour of Probus, who, in a ſhort reign of about ſix years ²⁹, equalled the fame of ancient heroes, and reſtored peace and order to every province of the Roman world. The dangerous [76] frontier of Rhaetia he ſo firmly ſecured, that he left it without the ſuſpicion of an enemy. He broke the wandering power of the Sarmatian tribes, and by the terror of his arms compelled thoſe barbarians to relinquiſh their ſpoil. The Gothic nation courted the alliance of ſo warlike an emperor ³⁰. He attacked the Iſaurians in their mountains, beſieged and took ſeveral of their ſtrongeſt caſtles ³¹, and flattered himſelf that he had for ever ſuppreſſed a domeſtic foe, whoſe in⯑dependence ſo deeply wounded the majeſty of the empire. The troubles excited by the uſurper Firmus in the Upper Egypt, had never been per⯑fectly appeaſed, and the cities of Ptolemais and Coptos, fortified by the alliance of the Blemmyes, ſtill maintained an obſcure rebellion. The chaſ⯑tiſement of thoſe cities, and of their auxiliaries the ſavages of the South, is ſaid to have alarmed the court of Perſia ³², and the Great King ſued in vain for the friendſhip of Probus. Moſt of the exploits which diſtinguiſhed his reign, were at⯑chieved by the perſonal valour and conduct of the emperor, inſomuch that the writer of his life expreſſes ſome amazement how, in ſo ſhort a time, a ſingle man could be preſent in ſo many diſtant wars. The remaining actions he intruſted to the care of his lieutenants, the judicious choice of [77] whom forms no inconſiderable part of his glory. Carus, Diocletian, Maximian, Conſtantius, Ga⯑lerius, Aſclepiodatus, Annibalianus, and a crowd of other chiefs, who afterwards aſcended or ſup⯑ported the throne, were trained to arms in the ſevere ſchool of Aurelian and Probus ³³.

But the moſt important ſervice which Probus A. D. 277. rendered to the republic, was the deliverance of He deli⯑vers Gaul from the invaſion of the Ger⯑mans, Gaul, and the recovery of ſeventy flouriſhing cities oppreſſed by the barbarians of Germany, who, ſince the death of Aurelian, had ravaged that great province with impunity ³⁴. Among the various multitude of thoſe fierce invaders, we may diſtinguiſh, with ſome degree of clearneſs, three great armies, or rather nations, ſucceſſively vanquiſhed by the valour of Probus. He drove back the Francs into their moraſſes; a deſcrip⯑tive circumſtance from whence we may infer, that the confederacy known by the manly appellation of Free, already occupied the flat maritime coun⯑try, interſected and almoſt overflown by the ſtag⯑nating waters of the Rhine, and that ſeveral tribes of the Friſians and Batavians had acceded to their alliance. He vanquiſhed the Burgundians, a conſiderable people of the Vandalic race. They had wandered in queſt of booty from the banks of the Oder to thoſe of the Seine. They eſteem⯑ed themſelves ſufficiently fortunate to purchaſe, by the reſtitution of all their booty, the permiſ⯑ſion [78] of an undiſturbed retreat. They attempted to elude that article of the treaty. Their puniſh⯑ment was immediate and terrible ³⁵. But of all the invaders of Gaul, the moſt formidable were the Lygians, a diſtant people who reigned over a wide domain on the frontiers of Poland and Si⯑leſia ³⁶. In the Lygian nation, the Arii held the firſt rank by their numbers and fierceneſs. ‘The Arii (it is thus that they are deſcribed by the energy of Tacitus) ſtudy to improve by art and circumſtances the innate terrors of their barbariſm. Their ſhields are black, their bodies are painted black. They chuſe for the combat the darkeſt hour of the night. Their hoſt advances, covered as it were with a fune⯑real ſhade ³⁷; nor do they often find an enemy capable of ſuſtaining ſo ſtrange and infernal an aſpect. Of all our ſenſes, the eyes are the firſt vanquiſhed in battle ³⁸.’ Yet the arms and diſcipline of the Romans eaſily diſcomfited theſe horrid phantoms. The Lygii were defeated in a general engagement, and Semno, the moſt renowned of their chiefs, fell alive into the hands of Probus. That prudent emperor, unwilling to reduce a brave people to diſpair, granted them an honourable capitulation, and permitted them [79] to return in ſafety to their native country. But the loſſes which they ſuffered in the march, the battle, and the retreat, broke the power of the nation: nor is the Lygian name ever repeated in the hiſtory either of Germany or of the empire. The deliverance of Gaul is reported to have coſt the lives of four hundred thouſand of the invad⯑ers; a work of labour to the Romans, and of expence to the emperor, who gave a piece of gold for the head of every barbarian ³⁹. But as the fame of warriors is built on the deſtruction of human kind, we may naturally ſuſpect, that the ſanguinary account was multiplied by the avarice of the ſoldiers, and accepted without any very ſevere examination by the liberal vanity of Probus.

Since the expedition of Maximin, the Roman and car⯑ries his arms into Germany. generals had confined their ambition to a defen⯑ſive war againſt the nations of Germany, who perpetually preſſed on the frontiers of the em⯑pire. The more daring Probus purſued his Gallic victories, paſſed the Rhine, and diſplayed his invincible eagles on the banks of the Elbe and the Neckar. He was fully convinced, that nothing could reconcile the minds of the bar⯑barians to peace, unleſs they experienced in their own country the calamities of war. Germany, exhauſted by the ill ſucceſs of the laſt emigra⯑tion, was aſtoniſhed by his preſence. Nine of the moſt conſiderable princes repaired to his camp, and fell proſtrate at his feet. Such a [80] treaty was humbly received by the Germans, as it pleaſed the conqueror to dictate. He exacted a ſtrict reſtitution of the effects and captives which they had carried away from the provinces; and obliged their own magiſtrates to puniſh the more obſtinate robbers who preſumed to detain any part of the ſpoil. A conſiderable tribute of corn, cattle, and horſes, the only wealth of bar⯑barians, was reſerved for the uſe of the garriſons which Probus eſtabliſhed on the limits of their territory. He even entertained ſome thoughts of compelling the Germans to relinquiſh the exerciſe of arms, and to truſt their differences to the juſtice, their ſafety to the power, of Rome. To accompliſh theſe ſalutary ends, the conſtant reſidence of an Imperial governor, ſupported by a numerous army, was indiſpenſably requiſite. Probus therefore judged it more expedient to defer the execution of ſo grèat a deſign; which was indeed rather of ſpecious than ſolid utility ⁴⁰. Had Germany been reduced into the ſtate of a province, the Romans, with immenſe labour and expence, would have acquired only a more ex⯑tenſive boundary to defend againſt the fiercer and more active barbarians of Scythia.

Inſtead of reducing the warlike natives of He builds a wall from the Rhine to the Da⯑nube. Germany to the condition of ſubjects, Probus contented himſelf with the humble expedient of raiſing a bulwark againſt their inroads. The country, which now forms the circle of Swabia, [81] had been left deſert in the age of Auguſtus by the emigration of its ancient inhabitants ⁴¹. The fertility of the ſoil ſoon attracted a new colony from the adjacent provinces of Gaul. Crowds of adventurers, of a roving temper and of deſ⯑perate fortunes, occupied the doubtful poſſeſſion, and acknowledged, by the payment of tythes, the majeſty of the empire ⁴². To protect theſe new ſubjects, a line of frontier garriſons was gradually extended from the Rhine to the Da⯑nube. About the reign of Hadrian, when that mode of defence began to be practiſed, theſe garriſons were connected and covered by a ſtrong intrenchment of trees and paliſades. In the place of ſo rude a bulwark, the emperor Probus conſtructed a ſtone-wall of a conſiderable height, and ſtrengthened it by towers at convenient diſ⯑tances. From the neighbourhood of Newſtadt and Ratiſbon on the Danube, it ſtretched acroſs hills, vallies, rivers, and moraſſes, as far as Wimpfen on the Necker, and at length termi⯑nated on the banks of the Rhine, after a wind⯑ing courſe of near two hundred miles ⁴³. This important barrier, uniting the two mighty ſtreams that protected the provinces of Europe, ſeemed to fill up the vacant ſpace through which [82] the barbarians, and particularly the Alemanni, could penetrate with the greateſt facility into the heart of the empire. But the experience of the world from China to Britain, has expoſed the vain attempt of fortifying any extenſive tract of country ⁴⁴. An active enemy, who can ſelect and vary his points of attack, muſt, in the end, diſcover ſome feeble ſpot or ſome unguarded moment. The ſtrength, as well as the atten⯑tion, of the defenders is divided; and ſuch are the blind effects of terror on the firmeſt troops, that a line broken in a ſingle place is almoſt inſtantly deſerted. The fate of the wall which Probus erected, may confirm the general obſer⯑vation. Within a few years after his death, it was overthrown by the Alemanni. Its ſcattered ruins, univerſally aſcribed to the power of the Daemon, now ſerve only to excite the wonder of the Swabian peaſant.

Among the uſeful conditions of peace impoſed Introduc⯑tion and ſettlement of the bar⯑barians. by Probus on the vanquiſhed nations of Ger⯑many, was the obligation of ſupplying the Ro⯑man army with ſixteen thouſand recruits, the braveſt and moſt robuſt of their youth. The emperor diſperſed them through all the provinces, and diſtributed this dangerous reinforcement in ſmall bands of fifty or ſixty each, among the [83] national troops; judiciouſly obſerving, that the aid which the republic derived from the barba⯑rians, ſhould be felt but not ſeen ⁴⁵. Their aid was now become neceſſary. The feeble elegance of Italy and the internal provinces could no longer ſupport the weight of arms. The hardy frontier of the Rhine and Danube ſtill produced minds and bodies equal to the labours of the camp; but a perpetual ſeries of wars had gradually diminiſhed their numbers. The infrequency of marriage, and the ruin of agriculture, affected the principles of population, and not only de⯑ſtroyed the ſtrength of the preſent, but inter⯑cepted the hope of future generations. The wiſdom of Probus embraced a great and bene⯑ficial plan of repleniſhing the exhauſted frontiers, by new colonies of captive or fugitive barbarians, on whom he beſtowed lands, cattle, inſtruments of huſbandry, and every encouragement that might engage them to educate a race of ſoldiers for the ſervice of the republic. Into Britain, and moſt probably into Cambridgeſhire ⁴⁶, he tranſported a conſiderable body of Vandals. The impoſſibility of an eſcape reconciled them to their ſituation, and in the ſubſequent troubles of that iſland, they approved themſelves the moſt faithful ſervants of the ſtate ⁴⁷. Great num⯑bers [84] of Franks and Gepidae were ſettled on the banks of the Danube and the Rhine. An hun⯑dred thouſand Baſtarnae, expelled from their own country, cheerfully accepted an eſtabliſhment in Thrace, and ſoon imbibed the manners and ſen⯑timents of Roman ſubjects ⁴⁸. But the expec⯑tations of Probus were too often diſappointed. The impatience and idleneſs of the barbarians could ill brook the ſlow labours of agriculture. Their unconquerable love of freedom, riſing againſt deſpotiſm, provoked them into haſty rebellions, alike fatal to themſelves and to the provinces ⁴⁹; nor could theſe artificial ſupplies, however repeated by ſucceeding emperors, re⯑ſtore the important limit of Gaul and Illyricum to its ancient and native vigour.

Of all the barbarians who abandones their Daring en⯑terpriſe of the Franks. new ſettlements, and diſturbed the public tran⯑quillity, a very ſmall number returned to their own country. For a ſhort ſeaſon they might wander in arms through the empire; but in the end they were ſurely deſtroyed by the power of a warlike emperor. The ſucceſsful raſhneſs of a party of Franks was attended, however, with ſuch memorable conſequences, that it ought not to be paſſed unnoticed. They had been eſta⯑bliſhed by Probus, on the ſea-coaſt of Pontus, with a view of ſtrengthening the frontier againſt the inroads of the Alani. A fleet ſtationed in one of the harbours of the Euxine, fell into the [85] hands of the Franks; and they reſolved, through unknown ſeas, to explore their way from the mouth of the Phaſis to that of the Rhine. They eaſily eſcaped through the Boſphorus and the Helleſpont, and cruizing along the Medi⯑terranean, indulged their appetite for revenge and plunder, by frequent deſcents on the unſuſ⯑pecting ſhores of Aſia, Greece, and Africa. The opulent city of Syracuſe, in whoſe port the navies of Athens and Carthage had formerly been ſunk, was ſacked by a handful of barba⯑rians, who maſſacred the greateſt part of the trembling inhabitants. From the iſland of Sicily, the Franks proceeded to the columns of Her⯑cules, truſted themſelves to the ocean, coaſted round Spain and Gaul, and ſteering their tri⯑umphant courſe through the Britiſh channel, at length finiſhed their ſurpriſing voyage, by land⯑ing in ſafety on the Batavian or Friſian ſhores ⁵⁰. The example of their ſucceſs, inſtructing their countrymen to conceive the advantages, and to deſpiſe the dangers, of the ſea, pointed out to their enterpriſing ſpirit, a new road to wealth and glory.

Notwithſtanding the vigilance and activity of Probus, it was almoſt impoſſible that he could at Revolt of Saturni⯑nus in the Eaſt; once contain in obedience every part of his wide-extended dominions. The barbarians, who broke their chains, had ſeized the favourable opportunity of a domeſtic war. When the emperor marched to the relief of Gaul, he devolved the command [86] of the Eaſt on Saturninus. That general, a man of merit and experience, was driven into rebel⯑lion by the abſence of his ſovereign, the levity of the Alexandrian people, the preſſing inſtances of his friends, and his own fears; but from the moment of his elevation, he never entertained a hope of empire, or even of life. ‘Alas! he ſaid, the republic has loſt a uſeful ſervant, and the raſhneſs of an hour has deſtroyed the ſer⯑vices of many years. You know not, con⯑tinued he, the miſery of ſovereign power; a ſword is perpetually ſuſpended over our head. We dread our very guards, we diſtruſt our companions. The choice of action or of re⯑poſe is no longer in our diſpoſition, nor is there any age, or character, or conduct, that can protect us from the cenſure of envy. In thus exalting me to the throne, you have doomed me to a life of cares, and to an un⯑timely fate. The only conſolation which re⯑mains is, the aſſurance that I ſhall not fall alone ⁵¹.’ But as the former part of his pre⯑diction was verified by the victory, ſo the lat⯑ter was diſappointed by the clemency of Probus. That amiable prince attempted even to ſave the unhappy Saturninus from the fury of the ſoldiers. He had more than once ſolicited the uſurper himſelf, to place ſome confidence in the mercy of a ſovereign who ſo highly eſteemed his cha⯑racter, A. D. 279. [87] that he had puniſhed, as a malicious in⯑former, the firſt who related the improbable news of his defection ⁵². Saturninus might, perhaps, have embraced the generous offer, had he not been reſtrained by the obſtinate diſtruſt of his adherents. Their guilt was deeper, and their hopes more ſanguine, than thoſe of their expe⯑rienced leader.

The revolt of Saturninus was ſcarcely extin⯑guiſhed A. D. 280. of Bono⯑ſus and Proculus in Gaul. in the Eaſt, before new troubles were excited in the Weſt, by the rebellion of Bonoſus and Proculus in Gaul. The moſt diſtinguiſhed merit of thoſe two officers was their reſpective proweſs, of the one in the combats of Bacchus, of the other in thoſe of Venus ⁵³, yet neither of them were deſtitute of courage and capacity, and both ſuſtained, with honour, the auguſt cha⯑racter which the fear of puniſhment had engaged them to aſſume, till they ſunk at length beneath the ſuperior genius of Probus. He uſed the victory with his accuſtomed moderation, and ſpared the fortunes as well as the lives of their innocent families ⁵⁴.

[88] The arms of Probus had now ſuppreſſed all the foreign and domeſtic enemies of the ſtate. His mild but ſteady adminiſtration confirmed the A. D. 281. re-eſtabliſhment of the public tranquillity; nor Triumph of the em⯑peror Pro⯑bus. was there left in the provinces a hoſtile barba⯑rian, a tyrant, or even a robber, to revive the memory of paſt diſorders. It was time that the emperor ſhould reviſit Rome, and celebrate his own glory and the general happineſs. The triumph due to the valour of Probus was conducted with a magnificence ſuitable to his fortune, and the people who had ſo lately admired the trophies of Aurelian, gazed with equal pleaſure on thoſe of his heroic ſucceſſor ⁵⁵. We cannot, on this occa⯑ſion, forget the deſperate courage of about four⯑ſcore Gladiators, reſerved with near ſix hundred others, for the inhuman ſports of the amphi⯑theatre. Diſdaining to ſhed their blood for the amuſement of the populace, they killed their keepers, broke from the place of their confine⯑ment, and filled the ſtreets of Rome with blood and confuſion. After an obſtinate reſiſtance, they were overpowered and cut in pieces by the regular forces; but they obtained at leaſt an honourable death, and the ſatisfaction of a juſt revenge ⁵⁶.

The military diſcipline which reigned in the His diſci⯑pline. camps of Probus, was leſs cruel than that of Aurelian, but it was equally rigid and exact. The latter had puniſhed the irregularities of the ſoldiers with unrelenting ſeverity, the former [89] prevented them by employing the legions in conſtant and uſeful labours. When Probus commanded in Egypt, he executed many con⯑ſiderable works for the ſplendour and benefit of that rich country. The navigation of the Nile, ſo important to Rome itſelf, was improved; and temples, bridges, porticoes, and palaces, were conſtructed by the hands of the ſoldiers, who acted by turns as architects, as engineers, and as huſbandmen ⁵⁷. It was reported of Hannibal, that, in order to preſerve his troops from the dangerous temptations of idleneſs, he had oblig⯑ed them to form large plantations of olive trees along the coaſt of Africa ⁵⁸. From a ſimilar principle, Probus exerciſed his legions in cover⯑ing, with rich vineyards, the hills of Gaul and Pannonia, and two conſiderable ſpots are deſcrib⯑ed, which were entirely dug and planted by military labour ⁵⁹. One of theſe, known under the name of Mount Almo, was ſituated near Sirmium, the country where Probus was born, for which he ever retained a partial affection, and whoſe gratitude he endeavoured to ſecure, by converting into tillage a large and unhealthy tract of marſhy ground. An army thus employ⯑ed, [90] conſtituted perhaps the moſt uſeful, as well as the braveſt, portion of Roman ſubjects.

But in the proſecution of a favourite ſcheme, the beſt of men, ſatisfied with the rectitude of His death. their intentions, are ſubject to forget the bounds of moderation; nor did Probus himſelf ſuffici⯑ently conſult the patience and diſpoſition of his fierce legionaries ⁶⁰. The dangers of the military profeſſion ſeem only to be compenſated by a life of pleaſure and idleneſs; but if the duties of the ſoldier are inceſſantly aggravated by the labours of the peaſant, he will at laſt ſink under the intolerable burden, or ſhake it off with indigna⯑tion. The imprudence of Probus is ſaid to have inflamed the diſcontent of his troops. More at⯑tentive to the intereſts of mankind than to thoſe of the army, he expreſſed the vain hope, that, by the eſtabliſhment of univerſal peace, he ſhould ſoon aboliſh the neceſſity of a ſtanding and mer⯑cenary force ⁶¹. The unguarded expreſſion prov⯑ed fatal to him. In one of the hotteſt days of ſummer, as he ſeverely urged the unwholeſome labour of draining the marſhes of Sirmium, the ſoldiers, impatient of fatigue, on a ſudden threw down their tools, graſped their arms, and broke out into a furious mutiny. The emperor, con⯑ſcious of his danger, took refuge in a lofty tower, conſtructed for the purpoſe of ſurveying the [91] progreſs of the work ⁶². The tower was inſtantly forced, and a thouſand ſwords were plunged at once into the boſom of the unfortunate Probus. A. D. 282, Auguſt. The rage of the troops ſubſided as ſoon as it had been gratified. They then lamented their fatal raſhneſs, forgot the ſeverity of the emperor, whom they had maſſacred, and haſtened to per⯑petuate, by an honourable monument, the me⯑mory of his virtues and victories ⁶³.

When the legions had indulged their grief Election and cha⯑racter of Carus. and repentance for the death of Probus, their unanimous conſent declared Carus, his Praetorian praefect, the moſt deſerving of the Imperial throne. Every circumſtance that relates to this prince appears of a mixed and doubtful nature. He gloried in the title of Roman Citizen; and affected to compare the purity of his blood, with the foreign and even barbarous origin of the preceding emperors; yet the moſt inquiſitive of his contemporaries, very far from admitting his claim, have variouſly deduced his own birth, or that of his parents, from Illyricum, from Gaul, or from Africa ⁶⁴. Though a ſoldier, he had received a learned education; though a ſenator, he was inveſted with the firſt dignity of [92] the army; and in an age, when the civil and mi⯑litary profeſſions began to be irrecoverably ſepa⯑rated from each other, they were united in the perſon of Carus. Notwithſtanding the ſevere juſtice which he exerciſed againſt the aſſaſſins of Probus, to whoſe favour and eſteem he was highly indebted, he could not eſcape the ſuſpicion of being acceſſary to a deed from whence he de⯑rived the principal advantage. He enjoyed, at leaſt before his elevation, an acknowledged cha⯑racter of virtue and abilities ⁶⁵; but his auſtere temper inſenſibly degenerated into moroſeneſs and cruelty; and the imperfect writers of his life almoſt heſitate whether they ſhall not rank him in the number of Roman tyrants ⁶⁶. When Ca⯑rus aſſumed the purple, he was about ſixty years of age, and his two ſons Carinus and Numerian had already attained the ſeaſon of manhood ⁶⁷.

The authority of the ſenate expired with Pro⯑bus The ſenti⯑ments of the ſenate and peo⯑ple.; nor was the repentance of the ſoldiers diſ⯑played by the ſame dutiful regard for the civil power, which they had teſtified after the unfor⯑tunate death of Aurelian. The election of Carus was decided without expecting the approbation of the ſenate, and the new emperor contented [93] himſelf with announcing, in a cold and ſtately epiſtle, that he had aſcended the vacant throne ⁶⁸. A behaviour ſo very oppoſite to that of his ami⯑able predeceſſor, afforded no favourable preſage of the new reign; and the Romans, deprived of power and freedom, aſſerted their privilege of licentious murmurs ⁶⁹. The voice of congratula⯑tion and flattery was not however ſilent; and we may ſtill peruſe, with pleaſure and contempt, an eclogue, which was compoſed on the acceſſion of the emperor Carus. Two ſhepherds, avoiding the noon-tide heat, retire into the cave of Fau⯑nus. On a ſpreading beech they diſcover ſome recent characters. The rural deity had deſcribed, in prophetic verſes, the felicity promiſed to the empire, under the reign of ſo great a prince. Faunus hails the approach of that hero, who, receiving on his ſhoulders the ſinking weight of the Roman world, ſhall extinguiſh war and fac⯑tion, and once again reſtore the innocence and ſecurity of the golden age ⁷⁰.

It is more than probable, that theſe elegant Carus de⯑feats the Sarma⯑tians, and marches into the Eaſt; trifles never reached the ears of a veteran general, who, with the conſent of the legions, was pre⯑paring to execute the long ſuſpended deſign of the Perſian war. Before his departure for this diſtant expedition, Carus conferred on his two [94] ſons, Carinus and Numerian, the title of Caeſar, and inveſting the former with almoſt an equal ſhare of the Imperial power, directed the young prince, firſt to ſuppreſs ſome troubles which had ariſen in Gaul, and afterwards to fix the ſeat of his reſidence at Rome, and to aſſume the govern⯑ment of the weſtern provinces ⁷¹. The ſafety of Illyricum was confirmed by a memorable defeat of the Sarmatians; ſixteen thouſand of thoſe bar⯑barians remained on the field of battle, and the number of captives amounted to twenty thou⯑ſand. The old emperor, animated with the fame and proſpect of victory, purſued his march, in the midſt of winter, through the countries of Thrace and Aſia Minor, and at length, with his younger ſon Numerian, arrived on the confines of the Perſian monarchy. There, encamping on the ſummit of a lofty mountain, he pointed out to his troops the opulence and luxury of the enemy whom they were about to invade.

The ſucceſſor of Artaxerxes, Varanes or Bah⯑ram, A. D. 283. though he had ſubdued the Segeſtans, one he gives audience to the Per⯑ſian am⯑baſſadors. of the moſt warlike nations of Upper Aſia ⁷², was alarmed at the approach of the Romans, and en⯑deavoured to retard their progreſs by a negocia⯑tion of peace. His ambaſſadors entered the camp about ſun-ſet, at the time when the troops were ſatisfying their hunger with a frugal repaſt. The Perſians expreſſed their deſire of being introduced [95] to the preſence of the Roman emperor. They were at length conducted to a ſoldier, who was ſeated on the graſs. A piece of ſtale bacon and a few hard peaſe compoſed his ſupper. A coarſe woollen garment of purple was the only circum⯑ſtance that announced his dignity. The confer⯑ence was conducted with the ſame diſregard of courtly elegance. Carus, taking off a cap which he wore to conceal his baldneſs, aſſured the am⯑baſſadors, that, unleſs their maſter acknowledged the ſuperiority of Rome, he would ſpeedily render Perſia as naked of trees, as his own head was deſtitute of hair ⁷³. Notwithſtanding ſome traces of art and preparation, we may diſcover in this ſcene the manners of Carus, and the ſevere ſim⯑plicity which the martial princes, who ſucceeded Gallienus, had already reſtored in the Roman camps. The miniſters of the Great King trem⯑bled and retired.

The threats of Carus were not without effect. He ravaged Meſopotamia, cut in pieces what⯑ever His victo⯑ries and extraordi⯑nary death. oppoſed his paſſage, made himſelf maſter of the great cities of Seleucia and Cteſiphon (which ſeemed to have ſurrendered without reſiſtance), and carried his victorious arms beyond the Tigris ⁷⁴. He had ſeized the favourable moment for an in⯑vaſion. The Perſian councils were diſtracted by [96] domeſtic factions, and the greater part of their forces were detained on the frontiers of India. Rome and the Eaſt received with tranſport the news of ſuch important advantages. Flattery and hope painted, in the moſt lively colours, the fall of Perſia, the conqueſt of Arabia, the ſub⯑miſſion of Egypt, and a laſting deliverance from the inroads of the Scythian nations ⁷⁵. But the reign of Carus was deſtined to expoſe the vanity of predictions. They were ſcarcely uttered be⯑fore A. D. 283. Dec. 25. they were contradicted by his death; an event attended with ſuch ambiguous circum⯑ſtances, that it may be related in a letter from his own ſecretary to the praefect of the city. ‘Carus, ſays he, our deareſt emperor, was confined by ſickneſs to his bed, when a furious tempeſt aroſe in the camp. The darkneſs which overſpread the ſky was ſo thick, that we could no longer diſtinguiſh each other; and the inceſſant flaſhes of lightning took from us the knowledge of all that paſſed in the ge⯑neral confuſion. Immediately after the moſt violent clap of thunder, we heard a ſudden cry, that the emperor was dead; and it ſoon ap⯑peared, that his chamberlains, in a rage of grief, had ſet fire to the royal pavillion, a cir⯑cumſtance which gave riſe to the report that Carus was killed by lightning. But, as far as [97] we have been able to inveſtigate the truth, his death was the natural effect of his diſorder ⁷⁶.’

The vacancy of the throne was not productive of any diſturbance. The ambition of the aſpir⯑ing He is ſuc⯑ceeded by his two ſons Cari⯑nus and Numerian. generals was checked by their mutual fears, and young Numerian, with his abſent brother Carinus, were unanimouſly acknowledged as Ro⯑man emperors. The public expected that the ſucceſſor of Carus would purſue his father's foot⯑ſteps, and without allowing the Perſians to re⯑cover from their conſternation, would advance ſword in hand to the palaces of Suſa and Ecba⯑tana ⁷⁷. But the legions, however ſtrong in num⯑bers and diſcipline, were diſmayed by the moſt abject ſuperſtition. Notwithſtanding all the arts that were practiſed to diſguiſe the manner of the late emperor's death, it was found impoſſible to remove the opinion of the multitude, and the power of opinion is irreſiſtible. Places or per⯑ſons ſtruck with lightning were conſidered by the ancients with pious horror, as ſingularly devoted to the wrath of Heaven ⁷⁸. An oracle was re⯑membered, which marked the river Tigris as the fatal boundary of the Roman arms. The troops, terrified with the fate of Carus and with their own danger, called aloud on young Numerian to obey the will of the gods, and to lead them away from [98] this inauſpicious ſcene of war. The feeble em⯑peror was unable to ſubdue their obſtinate preju⯑dice, and the Perſians wondered at the unexpected retreat of a victorious enemy ⁷⁹.

The intelligence of the myſterious fate of the A. D. 384. Vices of Carinus. late emperor, was ſoon carried from the frontiers of Perſia to Rome; and the ſenate, as well as the provinces, congratulated the acceſſion of the ſons of Carus. Theſe fortunate youths were ſtrangers, however, to that conſcious ſuperiority, either of birth or of merit, which can alone render the poſſeſſion of a throne eaſy, and as it were natural. Born and educated in a private ſtation, the elec⯑tion of their father raiſed them at once to the rank of princes; and his death, which happened about ſixteen months afterwards, left them the unexpected legacy of a vaſt empire. To ſuſtain with temper this rapid elevation, an uncommon ſhare of virtue and prudence was requiſite; and Carinus, the elder of the brothers, was more than commonly deficient in thoſe qualities. In the Gallic war, he diſcovered ſome degree of perſonal courage ⁸⁰; but from the moment of his arrival at Rome, he abandoned himſelf to the luxury of the capital, and to the abuſe of his fortune. He was ſoft yet cruel; devoted to pleaſure, but deſtitute of taſte; and though ex⯑quiſitely ſuſceptible of vanity, indifferent to the public eſteem. In the courſe of a few months, [99] he ſucceſſively married and divorced nine wives, moſt of whom he left pregnant; and notwith⯑ſtanding this legal inconſtancy, found time to indulge ſuch a variety of irregular appetites, as brought diſhonour on himſelf and on the nobleſt houſes of Rome. He beheld with inveterate ha⯑tred all thoſe who might remember his former obſcurity, or cenſure his preſent conduct. He baniſhed, or put to death, the friends and coun⯑ſellors whom his father had placed about him, to guide his inexperienced youth; and he perſecuted with the meaneſt revenge his ſchool-fellows and companions, who had not ſufficiently reſpected the latent majeſty of the emperor. With the ſe⯑nators, Carinus affected a lofty and regal de⯑meanour, frequently declaring, that he deſigned to diſtribute their eſtates among the populace of Rome. From the dregs of that populace, he ſe⯑lected his favourites, and even his miniſters. The palace, and even the Imperial table, was filled with ſingers, dancers, proſtitutes, and all the various retinue of vice and folly. One of his door-keepers ⁸¹ he intruſted with the govern⯑ment of the city. In the room of the Praetorian praefect, whom he put to death, Carinus ſubſti⯑tuted one of the miniſters of his looſer pleaſures. Another who poſſeſſed the ſame, or even a more infamous, title to favour, was inveſted with the conſulſhip. A confidential ſecretary, who had [100] acquired uncommon ſkill in the art of forgery, delivered the indolent emperor, with his own conſent, from the irkſome duty of ſigning his name.

When the emperor Carus undertook the Per⯑ſian war, he was induced, by motives of affection as well as policy, to ſecure the fortunes of his family, by leaving in the hands of his eldeſt ſon the armies and provinces of the Weſt. The in⯑telligence which he ſoon received of the conduct of Carinus, filled him with ſhame and regret; nor had he concealed his reſolution of ſatisfying the republic by a ſevere act of juſtice, and of adopting, in the place of an unworthy ſon, the brave and virtuous Conſtantius, who at that time was governor of Dalmatia. But the elevation of Conſtantius was for a while deferred; and as ſoon as the father's death had releaſed Carinus from the controul of fear or decency, he diſplayed to the Romans the extravagancies of Elagabalus, aggravated by the cruelty of Domitian ⁸².

The only merit of the adminiſtration of Cari⯑nus that hiſtory could record or poetry celebrate, He cele⯑brates the Roman games. was the uncommon ſplendour with which, in his own and his brother's name, he exhibited the Roman games of the theatre, the circus, and the amphitheatre. More than twenty years after⯑wards, when the courtiers of Diocletian repre⯑ſented to their frugal ſovereign the fame and po⯑pularity [101] of his munificent predeceſſor, he ac⯑knowledged, that the reign of Carinus had in⯑deed been a reign of pleaſure ⁸³. But this vain prodigality, which the prudence of Diocletian might juſtly deſpiſe, was enjoyed with ſurpriſe and tranſport by the Roman people. The oldeſt of the citizens, recollecting the ſpectacles of for⯑mer days, the triumphal pomp of Probus or Au⯑relian, and the ſecular games of the emperor Philip, acknowledged that they were all ſurpaſſed by the ſuperior magnificence of Carinus ⁸⁴.

The ſpectacles of Carinus may therefore be Spectacles of Rome. beſt illuſtrated by the obſervation of ſome parti⯑culars, which hiſtory has condeſcended to relate concerning thoſe of his predeceſſors. If we con⯑fine ourſelves ſolely to the hunting of wild beaſts, however we may cenſure the vanity of the deſign or the cruelty of the execution, we are obliged to confeſs, that neither before nor ſince the time of the Romans, ſo much art and expence have ever been laviſhed for the amuſement of the people ⁸⁵. By the order of Probus, a great quan⯑tity of large trees, torn up by the roots, were tranſplanted into the midſt of the circus. The ſpacious and ſhady foreſt was immediately filled with a thouſand oſtriches, a thouſand ſtags, a [102] thouſand fallow deer, and a thouſand wild boars; and all this variety of game was abandoned to the riotous impetuoſity of the multitude. The tragedy of the ſucceeding day conſiſted in the maſſacre of an hundred lions, an equal number of lioneſſes, two hundred leopards, and three hundred bears ⁸⁶. The collection prepared by the younger Gordian for his triumph, and which his ſucceſſor exhibited in the ſecular games, was leſs remarkable by the number than by the ſingu⯑larity of the animals. Twenty zebras diſplayed their elegant forms and variegated beauty to the eyes of the Roman people ⁸⁷. Ten elks, and as many camelopards, the loftieſt and moſt harmleſs creatures that wander over the plains of Sarma⯑tia and Aethiopia, were contraſted with thirty African hyaenas, and ten Indian tygers, the moſt implacable ſavages of the torrid zone. The un⯑offending ſtrength with which Nature has en⯑dowed the greater quadrupeds, was admired in the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus of the Nile ⁸⁸, and a majeſtic troop of thirty-two elephants ⁸⁹. While the populace gazed with ſtupid wonder on [103] the ſplendid ſhow, the naturaliſt might indeed obſerve the figure and properties of ſo many dif⯑ferent ſpecies, tranſported from every part of the ancient world into the amphitheatre of Rome. But this accidental benefit, which ſcience might derive from folly, is ſurely inſufficient to juſtify ſuch a wanton abuſe of the public riches. There occurs, however, a ſingle inſtance in the firſt Punic war, in which the ſenate wiſely connected this amuſement of the multitude with the intereſt of the ſtate. A conſiderable number of ele⯑phants, taken in the defeat of the Carthaginian army, were driven through the circus by a few ſlaves, armed only with blunt javelins ⁹⁰. The uſeful ſpectacle ſerved to impreſs the Roman ſol⯑dier with a juſt contempt for thoſe unwieldy ani⯑mals; and he no longer dreaded to encounter them in the ranks of war.

The hunting or exhibition of wild beaſts, was The am⯑phitheatre. conducted with a magnificence ſuitable to a peo⯑ple who ſtyled themſelves the maſters of the world; nor was the edifice appropriated to that entertainment leſs expreſſive of Roman greatneſs. Poſterity admires, and will long admire, the aw⯑ful remains of the amphitheatre of Titus, which ſo well deſerved the epithet of Coloſſal ⁹¹. It was a building of an elliptic figure, five hundred and ſixty-four feet in length, and four hundred and ſixty-ſeven in breadth, founded on fourſcore arches, and riſing, with four ſucceſſive orders of architecture, to the height of one hundred and [104] forty feet ⁹². The outſide of the edifice was en⯑cruſted with marble, and decorated with ſtatues. The ſlopes of the vaſt concave, which formed the inſide, were filled and ſurrounded with ſixty or eighty rows of ſeats of marble likewiſe, co⯑vered with cuſhions, and capable of receiving with eaſe above fourſcore thouſand ſpectators ⁹³. Sixty-four vomitories (for by that name the doors were very aptly diſtinguiſhed) poured forth the immenſe multitude; and the entrances, paſſages, and ſtair-caſes, were contrived with ſuch exqui⯑ſite ſkill, that each perſon, whether of the ſena⯑torial, the equeſtrian, or the plebeian order, ar⯑rived at his deſtined place without trouble or confuſion ⁹⁴. Nothing was omitted which, in any reſpect, could be ſubſervient to the conve⯑nience and pleaſure of the ſpectators. They were protected from the ſun and rain by an ample canopy, occaſionally drawn over their heads. The air was continually refreſhed by the playing of fountains, and profuſely impregnated by the grateful ſcent of aromatics. In the centre [105] of the edifice, the arena, or ſtage, was ſtrewed with the fineſt ſand, and ſucceſſively aſſumed the moſt different forms. At one moment it ſeemed to riſe out of the earth, like the garden of the Heſperides, and was afterwards broken into the rocks and caverns of Thrace. The ſubterraneous pipes conveyed an inexhauſtible ſupply of water; and what had juſt before appeared a level plain, might be ſuddenly converted into a wide lake, covered with armed veſſels, and repleniſhed with the monſters of the deep ⁹⁵. In the decoration of theſe ſcenes, the Roman emperors diſplayed their wealth and liberality; and we read on various occaſions, that the whole furniture of the amphi⯑theatre conſiſted either of ſilver, or of gold, or of amber ⁹⁶. The poet who deſcribes the games of Carinus, in the character of a ſhepherd at⯑tracted to the capital by the fame of their magni⯑ficence, affirms, that the nets deſigned as a de⯑fence againſt the wild beaſts, were of gold wire; that the porticoes were gilded, and that the belt or circle which divided the ſeveral ranks of ſpec⯑tators from each other, was ſtudded with a pre⯑cious Moſaic of beautiful ſtones ⁹⁷.

In the midſt of this glittering pageantry, the A. D. 284. Sept. 12. emperor Carinus, ſecure of his fortune, enjoyed [106] the acclamations of the people, the flattery of his courtiers, and the ſongs of the poets, who, for want of a more eſſential merit, were reduced to celebrate the divine graces of his perſon ⁹⁸. In the ſame hour, but at the diſtance of nine hun⯑dred miles from Rome, his brother expired; and a ſudden revolution transferred into the hands of a ſtranger the ſceptre of the houſe of Carus ⁹⁹.

The ſons of Carus never ſaw each other after Return of Numerian with the army from Perſia. their father's death. The arrangements which their new ſituation required, were probably de⯑ferred till the return of the younger brother to Rome, where a triumph was decreed to the young emperors, for the glorious ſucceſs of the Perſian war ¹⁰⁰. It is uncertain whether they intended to divide between them the adminiſtration, or the provinces, of the empire; but it is very unlikely that their union would have proved of any long duration. The jealouſy of power muſt have been inflamed by the oppoſition of characters. In the moſt corrupt of times, Carinus was unworthy to live: Numerian deſerved to reign in a happier period. His affable manners and gentle virtues ſecured him, as ſoon as they became known, the regard and affections of the public. He poſſeſſed [107] the elegant accompliſhments of a poet and orator, which dignify as well as adorn the humbleſt and the moſt exalted ſtation. His eloquence, how⯑ever it was applauded by the ſenate, was formed not ſo much on the model of Cicero, as on that of the modern declaimers; but in an age very far from being deſtitute of poetical merit, he contended for the prize with the moſt celebrated of his contemporaries, and ſtill remained the friend of his rivals; a circumſtance which evinces either the goodneſs of his heart, or the ſuperiority of his genius ¹⁰¹. But the talents of Numerian were rather of the contemplative, than of the ac⯑tive kind. When his father's elevation reluc⯑tantly forced him from the ſhade of retirement, neither his temper nor his purſuits had qualified him for the command of armies. His conſtitu⯑tion was deſtroyed by the hardſhips of the Per⯑ſian war; and he had contracted, from the heat of the climate ¹⁰², ſuch a weakneſs in his eyes, as obliged him, in the courſe of a long retreat, to confine himſelf to the ſolitude and darkneſs of a tent or litter. The adminiſtration of all affairs, civil as well as military, was devolved on Arrius Aper, the Praetorian praefect, who, to the power of his important office, added the honour of be⯑ing father-in-law to Numerian. The Imperial [108] pavilion was ſtrictly guarded by his moſt truſty adherents; and during many days, Aper deli⯑vered to the army the ſuppoſed mandates of their inviſible ſovereign ¹⁰³.

It was not till eight months after the death of Death of Numerian. Carus, that the Roman army, returning by ſlow marches from the banks of the Tigris, arrived on thoſe of the Thracian Boſphorus. The le⯑gions halted at Chalcedon in Aſia, while the court paſſed over to Heraclea, on the European ſide of the Propontis ¹⁰⁴. But a report ſoon cir⯑culated through the camp, at firſt in ſecret whiſ⯑pers, and at length in loud clamours, of the em⯑peror's death, and of the preſumption of his ambitious miniſter, who ſtill exerciſed the ſove⯑reign power in the name of a prince who was no more. The impatience of the ſoldiers could not long ſupport a ſtate of ſuſpenſe. With rude curioſity they broke into the Imperial tent, and diſcovered only the corpſe of Numerian ¹⁰⁵. The gradual decline of his health might have induced them to believe that his death was natural; but the concealment was interpreted as an evidence of guilt, and the meaſures which Aper had taken to ſecure his election, became the immediate [109] occaſion of his ruin. Yet, even in the tranſport of their rage and grief, the troops obſerved a regular proceeding, which proves how firmly diſ⯑cipline had been re-eſtabliſhed by the martial ſucceſſors of Gallienus. A general aſſembly of the army was appointed to be held at Chalcedon, whither Aper was tranſported in chains, as a priſoner and a criminal. A vacant tribunal was erected in the midſt of the camp, and the gene⯑rals and tribunes formed a great military council. They ſoon announced to the multitude, that their A. D. 284. Sept. 17. choice had fallen on Diocletian, commander of the domeſtics or body-guards, as the perſon the Election of the empe⯑ror Diocle⯑tian. moſt capable of revenging and ſucceeding their beloved emperor. The future fortunes of the candidate depended on the chance or conduct of the preſent hour. Conſcious that the ſtation which he had filled, expoſed him to ſome ſuſpi⯑cions, Diocletian aſcended the tribunal, and raiſ⯑ing his eyes towards the Sun, made a ſolemn profeſſion of his own innocence, in the preſence of that all-ſeeing Deity ¹⁰⁶. Then, aſſuming the tone of a ſovereign and a judge, he commanded that Aper ſhould be brought in chains to the foot of the tribunal. ‘This man, ſaid he, is the murderer of Numerian;’ and, without giving him time to enter on a dangerous juſtifi⯑cation, drew his ſword, and buried it in the breaſt of the unfortunate praefect. A charge ſupported by ſuch deciſive proof, was admitted without contradiction, and the legions, with re⯑peated [110] acclamations, acknowledged the juſtice and authority of the emperor Diocletian ¹⁰⁷.

Before we enter upon the memorable reign of Defeat and death of Carinus. that prince, it will be proper to puniſh and diſ⯑miſs the unworthy brother of Numerian. Ca⯑rinus poſſeſſed arms and treaſures ſufficient to ſupport his legal title to the empire. But his perſonal vices overbalanced every advantage of birth and ſituation. The moſt faithful ſervants of the father deſpiſed the incapacity, and dreaded the cruel arrogance, of the ſon. The hearts of the people were engaged in favour of his rival, and even the ſenate was inclined to prefer an uſurper to a tyrant. The arts of Diocletian in⯑flamed the general diſcontent; and the winter was employed in ſecret intrigues, and open pre⯑parations for a civil war. In the ſpring, the forces of the Eaſt and of the Weſt encountered A. D. 285. May. each other in the plains of Margus, a ſmall city of Maeſia, in the neighbourhood of the Da⯑nube ¹⁰⁸. The troops, ſo lately returned from the Perſian war, had acquired their glory at the expence of health and numbers, nor were they in a condition to contend with the unexhauſted ſtrength of the legions of Europe. Their ranks were broken, and, for a moment, Diocletian [111] deſpaired of the purple and of life. But the advantage which Carinus had obtained by the valour of his ſoldiers, he quickly loſt by the in⯑fidelity of his officers. A tribune, whoſe wife he had ſeduced, ſeized the opportunity of revenge, and by a ſingle blow extinguiſhed civil diſcord in the blood of the adulterer ¹⁰⁹.

CHAP. XIII. The reign of Diocletian and his three Aſſociates, Maximian, Galerius, and Conſtantius.—General Re-eſtabliſhment of Order and Tranquillity.—The Perſian War, Victory, and Triumph.—The new Form of Adminiſtration.—Abdication and Retirement of Diocletian and Maximian.

AS the reign of Diocletian was more illuſ⯑trious than that of any of his predeceſſors, ſo was his birth more abject and obſcure. Elevation and cha⯑racter of Diocleti⯑an. The ſtrong claims of merit and of violence had frequently ſuperſeded the ideal prerogatives of nobility; but a diſtinct line of ſeparation was A. D. 285. hitherto preſerved between the free and the ſer⯑vile part of mankind. The parents of Diocle⯑tian had been ſlaves in the houſe of Anulinus, a Roman ſenator; nor was he himſelf diſtin⯑guiſhed by any other name, than that which he derived from a ſmall town in Dalmatia, from whence his mother deduced her origin ¹. It is, however, probable, that his father obtained the freedom of the family, and that he ſoon acquired an office of ſcribe, which was commonly exer⯑ciſed [113] by perſons of his condition ². Favourable oracles, or rather the conſciouſneſs of ſuperior merit, prompted his aſpiring ſon to purſue the profeſſion of arms and the hopes of fortune; and it would be extremely curious to obſerve the gradation of arts and accidents which enabled him in the end to fulfil thoſe oracles, and to diſ⯑play that merit to the world. Diocletian was ſucceſſively promoted to the government of Mae⯑ſia, the honours of the conſulſhip, and the im⯑portant command of the guards of the palace. He diſtinguiſhed his abilities in the Perſian war; and, after the death of Numerian, the ſlave, by the confeſſion and judgment of his rivals, was declared the moſt worthy of the Imperial throne. The malice of religious zeal, whilſt it arraigns the ſavage fierceneſs of his colleague Maximian, has affected to caſt ſuſpicions on the perſonal courage of the emperor Diocletian ³. It would not be eaſy to perſuade us of the cowardice of a ſoldier of fortune, who acquired and preſerved the eſteem of the legions, as well as the favour of ſo many warlike princes. Yet even calumny is ſagacious enough to diſcover and to attack the moſt vulnerable part. The valour of Dio⯑cletian was never found inadequate to his duty or to the occaſion; but he appears not to have [114] poſſeſſed the daring and generous ſpirit of a hero, who courts danger and fame, diſdains artifice, and boldly challenges the allegiance of his equals. His abilities were uſeful rather than ſplendid; a vigorous mind, improved by the experience and ſtudy of mankind; dexterity and application in buſineſs; a judicious mixture of liberality and oeconomy, of mildneſs and rigour; profound diſſimulation under the diſguiſe of military frank⯑neſs; ſteadineſs to purſue his ends; flexibility to vary his means; and above all, the great art of ſubmitting his own paſſions, as well as thoſe of others, to the intereſt of his ambition, and of colouring his ambition with the moſt ſpecious pretences of juſtice and public utility. Like Auguſtus, Diocletian may be conſidered as the founder of a new empire. Like the adopted ſon of Caeſar, he was diſtinguiſhed as a ſtateſman rather than as a warrior; nor did either of thoſe princes employ force, whenever their purpoſe could be effected by policy.

The victory of Diocletian was remarkable for His cle⯑mency and victory. its ſingular mildneſs. A people accuſtomed to applaud the clemency of the conqueror, if the uſual puniſhments of death, exile, and confiſ⯑cation were inflicted with any degree of temper and equity, beheld, with the moſt pleaſing aſto⯑niſhment, a civil war, the flames of which were extinguiſhed in the field of battle. Diocletian received into his confidence Ariſtobulus, the principal miniſter of the houſe of Carus, reſpect⯑ed the lives, the fortunes, and the dignity of his adverſaries, and even continued in their reſpec⯑tive [115] ſtations the greater number of the ſervants of Carinus ⁴. It is not improbable that motives of prudence might aſſiſt the humanity of the art⯑ful Dalmatian; of theſe ſervants, many had pur⯑chaſed his favour by ſecret treachery; in others, he eſteemed their grateful fidelity to an unfor⯑tunate maſter. The diſcerning judgment of Au⯑relian, of Probus, and of Carus, had filled the ſeveral departments of the ſtate and army with officers of approved merit, whoſe removal would have injured the public ſervice, without promot⯑ing the intereſt of the ſucceſſor. Such a con⯑duct, however, diſplayed to the Roman world the faireſt proſpect of the new reign, and the emperor affected to confirm this favourable pre⯑poſſeſſion, by declaring, that, among all the vir⯑tues of his predeceſſors, he was the moſt ambi⯑tious of imitating the humane philoſophy of Marcus Antoninus ⁵.

The firſt conſiderable action of his reign ſeem⯑ed Aſſociati⯑on and character of Maxi⯑mian. to evince his ſincerity as well as his modera⯑tion. After the example of Marcus, he gave himſelf a colleague in the perſon of Maximian, A. D 286. April 1. on whom he beſtowed at firſt the title of Caeſar, and afterwards that of Auguſtus ⁶. But the [116] motives of his conduct, as well as the object of his choice, were of a very different nature from thoſe of his admired predeceſſor. By inveſting a luxurious youth with the honours of the purple, Marcus had diſcharged a debt of private grati⯑tude, at the expence, indeed, of the happineſs of the ſtate. By aſſociating a friend and a fel⯑low-ſoldier to the labours of government, Dio⯑cletian, in a time of public danger, provided for the defence both of the Eaſt and of the Weſt. Maximian was born a peaſant, and, like Aure⯑lian, in the territory of Sirmium. Ignorant of letters ⁷, careleſs of laws, the ruſticity of his appearance and manners ſtill betrayed in the moſt elevated fortune the meanneſs of his ex⯑traction. War was the only art which he pro⯑feſſed. In a long courſe of ſervice he had diſ⯑tinguiſhed himſelf on every frontier of the em⯑pire; and though his military talents were form⯑ed to obey rather than to command, though, perhaps, he never attained the ſkill of a con⯑ſummate general, he was capable, by his valour, conſtancy, and experience, of executing the moſt [117] arduous undertakings. Nor were the vices of Maximian leſs uſeful to his benefactor. Inſen⯑ſible to pity, and fearleſs of conſequences, he was the ready inſtrument of every act of cruelty which the policy of that artful prince might at once ſuggeſt and diſclaim. As ſoon as a bloody ſacrifice had been offered to prudence or to re⯑venge, Diocletian, by his ſeaſonable interceſſion, ſaved the remaining few whom he had never deſigned to puniſh, gently cenſured the ſeverity of his ſtern colleague, and enjoyed the compa⯑riſon of a golden and an iron age, which was univerſally applied to their oppoſite maxims of government. Notwithſtanding the difference of their characters, the two emperors maintained, on the throne, that friendſhip which they had contracted in a private ſtation. The haughty turbulent ſpirit of Maximian, ſo fatal afterwards to himſelf and to the public peace, was accuſ⯑tomed to reſpect the genius of Diocletian, and confeſſed the aſcendant of reaſon over brutal violence ⁸. From a motive either of pride or ſuperſtition, the two emperors aſſumed the titles, the one of Jovius, the other of Herculius. Whilſt the motion of the world (ſuch was the language of their venal orators) was maintained by the all-ſeeing wiſdom of Jupiter, the invin⯑cible [118] arm of Hercules purged the earth from monſters and tyrants ⁹.

But even the omnipotence of Jovius and Her⯑culius Aſſocia⯑tion of two Cae⯑ſars. was inſufficient to ſuſtain the weight of the public adminiſtration. The prudence of Diocletian diſcovered, that the empire, aſſailed Galerius and Con⯑ſtantius. on every ſide by the barbarians, required on every ſide the preſence of a great army, and of A. D. 292. March 1. an emperor. With this view he reſolved once more to divide his unwieldy power, and with the inferior title of Caeſars, to confer on two generals of approved merit an equal ſhare of the ſovereign authority ¹⁰. Galerius, ſurnamed Ar⯑mentarius, from his original profeſſion of a herdſ⯑man, and Conſtantius, who from his pale com⯑plexion had acquired the denomination of Chlo⯑rus ¹¹, were the two perſons inveſted with the ſecond honours of the Imperial purple. In deſcribing the country, extraction, and manners of Herculius, we have already delineated thoſe of Galerius, who was often, and not improperly, ſtyled the younger Maximian, though, in many inſtances both of virtue and ability, he appears to have poſſeſſed a manifeſt ſuperiority over the elder. The birth of Conſtantius was leſs obſcure [119] than that of his colleagues. Eutropius, his fa⯑ther, was one of the moſt conſiderable nobles of Dardania, and his mother was the niece of the emperor Claudius ¹². Although the youth of Conſtantius had been ſpent in arms, he was en⯑dowed with a mild and amiable diſpoſition, and the popular voice had long ſince acknowledged him worthy of the rank which he at laſt attained. To ſtrengthen the bonds of political, by thoſe of domeſtic union, each of the emperors aſſumed the character of a father to one of the Caeſars, Diocletian to Galerius, and Maximian to Con⯑ſtantius; and each obliging them to repudiate their former wives, beſtowed his daughter in marriage on his adopted ſon ¹³. Theſe four princes diſtributed among themſelves the wide extent of the Roman empire. The defence of Depart⯑ments and harmony of the four princes. Gaul, Spain ¹⁴, and Britain, was intruſted to Conſtantius: Galerius was ſtationed on the banks of the Danube, as the ſafeguard of the Illyrian provinces. Italy and Africa were conſidered as the department of Maximian; and for his pecu⯑liar portion, Diocletian reſerved Thrace, Egypt, and the rich countries of Aſia. Every one was ſovereign within his own juriſdiction; but their [120] united authority extended over the whole mo⯑narchy; and each of them was prepared to aſſiſt his colleagues with his counſels or preſence. The Caeſars, in their exalted rank, revered the majeſty of the emperors, and the three younger princes invariably acknowledged, by their gra⯑titude and obedience, the common parent of their fortunes. The ſuſpicious jealouſy of power found not any place among them; and the ſin⯑gular happineſs of their union has been compared to a chorus of muſic, whoſe harmony was regu⯑lated and maintained by the ſkilful hand of the firſt artiſt ¹⁵.

This important meaſure was not carried into Series of events. execution till about ſix years after the aſſociation of Maximian, and that interval of time had not been deſtitute of memorable incidents. But we have preferred, for the ſake of perſpicuity, firſt to deſcribe the more perfect form of Diocletian's government, and afterwards to relate the actions of his reign, following rather the natural order of the events, than the dates of a very doubtful chronology.

The firſt exploit of Maximian, though it is mentioned in a few words by our imperfect wri⯑ters, A. D. 287. State of the peaſants of Gaul. deſerves, from its ſingularity, to be record⯑ed in a hiſtory of human manners. He ſup⯑preſſed the peaſants of Gaul, who, under the [121] appellation of Bagaudae ¹⁶, had riſen in a general inſurrection; very ſimilar to thoſe, which in the fourteenth century ſucceſſively afflicted both France and England ¹⁷. It ſhould ſeem, that very many of thoſe inſtitutions, referred by an eaſy ſolution to the feudal ſyſtem, are derived from the Celtic barbarians. When Caeſar ſub⯑dued the Gauls, that great nation was already divided into three orders of men; the clergy, the nobility, and the common people. The firſt governed by ſuperſtition, the ſecond by arms, but the third and laſt was not of any weight or account in their public councils. It was very natural for the Plebeians, oppreſſed by debt, or apprehenſive of injuries, to implore the protec⯑tion of ſome powerful chief, who acquired over their perſons and property, the ſame abſolute rights as, among the Greeks and Romans, a maſter exerciſed over his ſlaves ¹⁸. The greateſt part of the nation was gradually reduced into a ſtate of ſervitude; compelled to perpetual labour on the eſtates of the Gallic nobles, and confined to the ſoil, either by the real weight of fetters, or by the no leſs cruel and forcible reſtraints of the laws. During the long ſeries of troubles which agitated Gaul, from the reign of Gal⯑lienus [122] to that of Diocletian, the condition of theſe ſervile peaſants was peculiarly miſerable; and they experienced at once the complicated tyranny of their maſters, of the barbarians, of the ſoldiers, and of the officers of the revenue ¹⁹.

Their patience was at laſt provoked into de⯑ſpair. Their re⯑bellion, On every ſide they roſe in multitudes, armed with ruſtic weapons, and with irreſiſtible fury. The ploughman became a foot ſoldier, the ſhepherd mounted on horſeback, the deſerted villages and open towns were abandoned to the flames, and the ravages of the peaſants equalled thoſe of the fierceſt barbarians ²⁰. They aſſerted the natural rights of men, but they aſſerted thoſe rights with the moſt ſavage cruelty. The Gal⯑lic nobles juſtly dreading their revenge, either took refuge in the fortified cities, or fled from the wild ſeene of anarchy. The peaſants reign⯑ed without controul; and two of their moſt daring leaders had the folly and raſhneſs to aſſume the Imperial ornaments ²¹. Their power ſoon expired at the approach of the legions. The ſtrength of union and diſcipline obtained an eaſy victory over a licentious and divided multitude ²². A ſevere retaliation was inflicted and chaſ⯑tiſement. on the peaſants who were found in arms: the affrighted remnant returned to their reſpective [123] habitations, and their unſucceſsful effort for freedom ſerved only to confirm their ſlavery. So ſtrong and uniform is the current of popular paſſions, that we might almoſt venture, from very ſcanty materials, to relate the particulars of this war; but we are not diſpoſed to believe that the principal leaders Aelianus and Amandus were Chriſtians ²³, or to inſinuate, that the rebel⯑lion, as [it] happened in the time of Luther, was occaſioned by the abuſe of thoſe benevolent principles of Chriſtianity, which inculcate the natural freedom of mankind.

Maximian had no ſooner recovered Gaul from A. D. 287. the hands of the peaſants, than he loſt Britain by Revolt of Carauſius in Britain. the uſurpation of Carauſius. Ever ſince the raſh but ſucceſsful enterpriſe of the Franks under the reign of Probus, their daring countrymen had conſtructed ſquadrons of light brigantines, in which they inceſſantly ravaged the provinces adjacent to the ocean ²⁴. To repel their deſul⯑tory incurſions, it was found neceſſary to create a naval power; and the judicious meaſure was proſecuted with prudence and vigour. Geſſoria⯑cum, or Boulogne, in the ſtraights of the Britiſh channel, was choſen by the emperor for the ſta⯑tion of the Roman fleet; and the command of it was intruſted to Carauſius, a Menapian of the [124] meaneſt origin ²⁵, but who had long ſignalized his ſkill as a pilot, and his valour as a ſoldier. The integrity of the new admiral correſponded not with his abilities. When the German pi⯑rates ſailed from their own harbours, he con⯑nived at their paſſage, but he diligently inter⯑cepted their return, and appropriated to his own uſe an ample ſhare of the ſpoil which they had acquired. The wealth of Carauſius was, on this occaſion, very juſtly conſidered as an evi⯑dence of his guilt; and Maximian had already given orders for his death. But the crafty Me⯑napian foreſaw and prevented the ſeverity of the emperor. By his liberality he had attached to his fortunes the fleet which he commanded, and ſecured the barbarians in his intereſt. From the port of Boulogne he ſailed over to Britain, perſuaded the legion, and the auxiliaries which guarded that iſland, to embrace his party, and boldly aſſuming, with the Imperial purple, the title of Auguſtus, defied the juſtice and the arms of his injured ſovereign ²⁶.

When Britain was thus diſmembered from the Import⯑ance of Britain. empire, its importance was ſenſibly felt, and its loſs ſincerely lamented. The Romans celebrated, [125] and perhaps magnified, the extent of that noble iſland, provided on every ſide with convenient harbours; the temperature of the climate, and the fertility of the ſoil, alike adapted for the production of corn or of vines; the valuable minerals with which it abounded; its rich paſ⯑tures covered with innumerable flocks, and its woods free from wild beaſts or venomous ſer⯑pents. Above all, they regretted the large amount of the revenue of Britain, whilſt they confeſſed, that ſuch a province well deſerved to become the ſeat of an independent monarchy ²⁷. During the ſpace of ſeven years, it was poſſeſſed Power of Carauſius, by Carauſius; and fortune continued propitious to a rebellion, ſupported with courage and abi⯑lity. The Britiſh emperor defended the frontiers of his dominions againſt the Caledonians of the North, invited, from the continent, a great number of ſkilful artiſts, and diſplayed, on a variety of coins that are ſtill extant, his taſte and opulence. Born on the confines of the Franks, he courted the friendſhip of that for⯑midable people, by the flattering imitation of their dreſs and manners. The braveſt of their youth he enliſted among his land or ſea forces; and in return for their uſeful alliance, he com⯑municated to the barbarians the dangerous know⯑ledge [126] of military and naval arts. Carauſius ſtill preſerved the poſſeſſion of Boulogne and the ad⯑jacent country. His fleets rode triumphant in the channel, commanded the mouths of the Seine and of the Rhine, ravaged the coaſts of the ocean, and diffuſed beyond the columns of Her⯑cules the terror of his name. Under his com⯑mand, Britain, deſtined in a future age to ob⯑tain the empire of the ſea, already aſſumed its natural and reſpectable ſtation of a maritime power ²⁸.

By ſeizing the fleet of Boulogne, Carauſius had deprived his maſter of the means of purſuit A. D. 289. acknow⯑ledged by the other emperors. and revenge. And when, after a vaſt expence of time and labour, a new armament was launch⯑ed into the water ²⁹, the Imperial troops, un⯑accuſtomed to that element, were eaſily baffled and defeated by the veteran ſailors of the uſurper. This diſappointed effort was ſoon productive of a treaty of peace. Diocletian and his colleague, who juſtly dreaded the enterpriſing ſpirit of Carauſius, reſigned to him the ſovereignty of Britain, and reluctantly admitted their perfidious ſervant to a participation of the Imperial ho⯑nours ³⁰. [127] But the adoption of the two Caeſars reſtored new vigour to the Roman arms; and while the Rhine was guarded by the preſence of Maximian, his brave aſſociate Conſtantius aſſum⯑ed the conduct of the Britiſh war. His firſt enterpriſe was againſt the important place of Boulogne. A ſtupendous mole, raiſed acroſs the entrance of the harbour, intercepted all hopes of relief. The town ſurrendered after an obſtinate A. D. 292. defence; and a conſiderable part of the naval ſtrength of Carauſius fell into the hands of the beſiegers. During the three years which Con⯑ſtantius employed in preparing a fleet adequate to the conqueſt of Britain, he ſecured the coaſt of Gaul, invaded the country of the Franks, and deprived the uſurper of the aſſiſtance of thoſe powerful allies.

Before the preparations were finiſhed, Con⯑ſtantius A. D. 294. received the intelligence of the tyrant's His death. death, and it was conſidered as a ſure preſage of the approaching victory. The ſervants of Ca⯑rauſius imitated the example of treaſon, which he had given. He was murdered by his firſt miniſter Alectus, and the aſſaſſin ſucceeded to his power and to his danger. But he poſſeſſed not equal abilities either to exerciſe the one, or to repel the other. He beheld, with anxious terror, the oppoſite ſhores of the continent, al⯑ready filled with arms, with troops, and with [128] veſſels; for Conſtantius had very prudently di⯑vided his forces, that he might likewiſe divide the attention and reſiſtance of the enemy. The attack was at length made by the principal ſqua⯑dron, A. D. 296. which, under the command of the praefect Recovery of Britain by Con⯑ſtantius. Aſclepiodatus, an officer of diſtinguiſhed merit, had been aſſembled in the mouth of the Seine. So imperfect in thoſe times was the art of navi⯑gation, that orators have celebrated the daring courage of the Romans, who ventured to ſet ſail with a ſide-wind, and on a ſtormy day. The weather proved favourable to their enterpriſe. Under the cover of a thick fog, they eſcaped the fleet of Alectus, which had been ſtationed off the Iſle of Wight to receive them, landed in ſafety on ſome part of the weſtern coaſt, and convinced the Britons, that a ſuperiority of naval ſtrength will not always protect their country from a fo⯑reign invaſion. Aſclepiodatus had no ſooner diſ⯑embarked the Imperial troops, than he ſet fire to his ſhips; and, as the expedition proved for⯑tunate, his heroic conduct was univerſally ad⯑mired. The uſurper had poſted himſelf near London, to expect the formidable attack of Con⯑ſtantius, who commanded in perſon the fleet of Boulogne; but the deſcent of a new enemy required his immediate preſence in the Weſt. He performed this long march in ſo precipitate a manner, that he encountered the whole force of the praefect with a ſmall body of haraſſed and diſheartened troops. The engagement was ſoon terminated by the total defeat and death of [129] Allectus; a ſingle battle, as it has often hap⯑pened, decided the fate of this great iſland; and when Conſtantius landed on the ſhores of Kent, he found them covered with obedient ſubjects. Their acclamations were loud and unanimous; and the virtues of the conqueror may induce us to believe, that they ſincerely rejoiced in a revo⯑lution, which, after a ſeparation of ten years, reſtored Britain to the body of the Roman em⯑pire ³¹.

Britain had none but domeſtic enemies to Defence of the fron⯑tiers. dread; and as long as the governors preſerved their fidelity, and the troops their diſcipline, the incurſions of the naked ſavages of Scotland or Ireland could never materially affect the ſafety of the province. The peace of the con⯑tinent, and the defence of the principal rivers which bounded the empire, were objects of far greater difficulty and importance. The policy of Diocletian, which inſpired the councils of his aſſociates, provided for the public tranquillity, by encouraging a ſpirit of diſſention among the barbarians, and by ſtrengthening the fortifica⯑tions of the Roman limit. In the Eaſt he fixed Fortifica⯑tions. a line of camps of Egypt to the Perſian domi⯑nions, and, for every camp, he inſtituted an adequate number of ſtationary troops, command⯑ed by their reſpective officers, and ſupplied with every kind of arms, from the new arſenals which he had formed at Antioch, Emeſa, and Damaſ⯑cus ³². [130] Nor was the precaution of the emperor leſs watchful againſt the well-known valour of the barbarians of Europe. From the mouth of the Rhine to that of the Danube, the ancient camps, towns, and citadels, were diligently re⯑eſtabliſhed, and, in the moſt expoſed places, new ones were ſkilfully conſtructed; the ſtricteſt vigilance was introduced among the garriſons of the frontier, and every expedient was practiſed that could render the long chain of fortifications firm and impenetrable ³³. A barrier ſo reſpect⯑able was ſeldom violated, and the barbarians often turned againſt each other their diſappointed rage. The Goths, the Vandals, the Gepidae, Diſſentions of the bar⯑barians. the Burgundians, the Alemanni, waſted each others ſtrength by deſtructive hoſtilities, and whoſoever vanquiſhed, they vanquiſhed the ene⯑mies of Rome. The ſubjects of Diocletian en⯑joyed the bloody ſpectacle, and congratulated each other, that the miſchiefs of civil war were now experienced only by the barbarians ³⁴.

Notwithſtanding the policy of Diocletian, it was impoſſible to maintain an equal and undiſ⯑turbed Conduct of the empe⯑rors. tranquillity during a reign of twenty [131] years, and along a frontier of many hundred miles. Sometimes the barbarians ſuſpended their domeſtic animoſities, and the relaxed vigi⯑lance of the garriſons ſometimes gave a paſſage to their ſtrength or dexterity. Whenever the provinces were invaded, Diocletian conducted himſelf with that calm dignity which he always affected or poſſeſſed; reſerved his preſence for ſuch occaſions as were worthy of his interpoſition, never expoſed his perſon or reputation to any unneceſſary danger, enſured his ſucceſs by every means that prudence could ſuggeſt, and diſplay⯑ed, with oſtentation, the conſequences of his vic⯑tory. In wars of a more difficult nature, and more doubtful event, he employed the rough valour of Maximian, and that faithful ſoldier was content to aſcribe his own victories to the wiſe counſels and auſpicious influence of his benefactor. But after the adoption of the two Caeſars, the emperors themſelves retiring to a Valour of the Caeſars. leſs laborious ſcene of action, devolved on their adopted ſons the defence of the Danube and of the Rhine. The vigilant Galerius was never reduced to the neceſſity of vanquiſhing an army of barbarians on the Roman territory ³⁵. The brave and active Conſtantius delivered Gaul from a very furious inroad of the Alemanni; and his victories of Langres and Vindoniſſa appear to [132] have been actions of conſiderable danger and merit. As he traverſed the open country with a feeble guard, he was encompaſſed on a ſudden by the ſuperior multitude of the enemy. He retreated with difficulty towards Langres; but, in the general conſternation, the citizens refuſed to open their gates, and the wounded prince was drawn up the wall by the means of a rope. But on the news of his diſtreſs, the Roman troops haſtened from all ſides to his relief, and before the evening he had ſatisfied his honour and re⯑venge by the ſlaughter of ſix thouſand Ale⯑manni ³⁶. From the monuments of thoſe times, the obſcure traces of ſeveral other victories over the barbarians of Sarmatia and Germany might poſſibly be collected; but the tedious ſearch would not be rewarded either with amuſement or with inſtruction.

The conduct which the emperor Probus had Treatment of the bar⯑barians. adopted in the diſpoſal of the vanquiſhed, was imitated by Diocletian and his aſſociates. The captive barbarians, exchanging death for ſlavery, were diſtributed among the provincials, and aſſigned to thoſe diſtricts (in Gaul, the terri⯑tories of Amiens, Beauvais, Cambray, Treves, Langres, and Troyes, are particularly ſpecified ³⁷) which had been depopulated by the calamities of war. They were uſefully employed as ſhepherds and huſbandmen, but were denied the exerciſe [133] of arms, except when it was found expedient to enrol them in the military ſervice. Nor did the emperors refuſe the property of lands, with a leſs ſervile tenure, to ſuch of the barbarians as ſolicited the protection of Rome. They granted a ſettlement to ſeveral colonies of the Carpi, the Baſtarnae, and the Sarmatians; and, by a dan⯑gerous indulgence, permitted them in ſome mea⯑ſure to retain their national manners and inde⯑pendence ³⁸. Among the provincials, it was a ſubject of flattering exultation, that the bar⯑barian, ſo lately an object of terror, now cul⯑tivated their lands, drove their cattle to the neighbouring fair, and contributed by his labour to the public plenty. They congratulated their maſters on the powerful acceſſion of ſubjects and ſoldiers; but they forgot to obſerve, that mul⯑titudes of ſecret enemies, inſolent from favour, or deſperate from oppreſſion, were introduced into the heart of the empire ³⁹.

While the Caeſars exerciſed their valour on the Wars of Africa and Egypt. banks of the Rhine and Danube, the preſence of the emperors was required on the ſouthern confines of the Roman world. From the Nile [134] to mount Atlas, Africa was in arms. A con⯑federacy of five Mooriſh nations iſſued from their deſerts to invade the peaceful provinces ⁴⁰. Julian had aſſumed the purple at Carthage ⁴¹. Achilleus at Alexandria, and even the Blem⯑myes, renewed, or rather continued, their in⯑curſions into the Upper Egypt. Scarcely any circumſtances have been preſerved of the ex⯑ploits of Maximian, in the weſtern parts of Africa; but it appears by the event, that the progreſs of his arms was rapid and deciſive, that he van⯑quiſhed the fierceſt barbarians of Mauritania, and that he removed them from the mountains, whoſe inacceſſible ſtrength had inſpired their in⯑habitants with a lawleſs confidence, and habitu⯑ated them to a life of rapine and violence ⁴². A. D. 296. Diocletian, on his ſide, opened the campaign in Conduct of Diocletian in Egypt. Egypt by the ſiege of Alexandria, cut off the aqueducts which conveyed the waters of the Nile into every quarter of that immenſe city ⁴³, and rendering his camp impregnable to the ſallies of the beſieged multitude, he puſhed his reiterated attacks with caution and vigour. After a ſiege of eight months, Alexandria, waſted by the ſword [135] and by fire, implored the clemency of the con⯑queror; but it experienced the full extent of his ſeverity. Many thouſands of the citizens periſh⯑ed in a promiſcuous ſlaughter, and there were few obnoxious perſons in Egypt who eſcaped a ſentence either of death, or at leaſt of exile ⁴⁴. The fate of Euſiris and of Coptos was ſtill more melancholy than that of Alexandria; thoſe proud cities, the former diſtinguiſhed by its antiquity, the latter enriched by the paſſage of the Indian trade, were utterly deſtroyed by the arms and by the ſevere order of Diooletian ⁴⁵. The cha⯑racter of the Egyptian nation, inſenſible to kind⯑neſs, but extremely ſuſceptible of fear, could alone juſtify this exceſſive rigour. The ſeditions of Alexandria had often affected the tranquillity and ſubſiſtence of Rome itſelf. Since the uſurp⯑ation of Firmus, the province of Upper Egypt, inceſſantly relapſing into rebellion, had embraced the alliance of the ſavages of Aechiopia. The number of the Blemmyes, ſcattered between the iſland of Meroe and the Red Sea, was very in⯑conſiderable, their diſpoſition was unwarlike, their weapons rude and inoffenſive ⁴⁶. Yet in the public diſorders theſe barbarians, whom anti⯑quity, [136] ſhocked with the deformity of their figure, had almoſt excluded from the human ſpecies, preſumed to rank themſelves among the enemies of Rome ⁴⁷. Such had been the unworthy allies of the Egyptians; and while the attention of the ſtate was engaged in more ſerious wars, their vexatious inroads might again haraſs the repoſe of the province. With a view of oppoſing to the Blemmyes a ſuitable adverſary, Diocletian perſuaded the Nobatae, or people of Nubia, to remove from their ancient habitations in the de⯑ſerts of Lybia, and reſigned to them an exten⯑ſive but unprofitable territory above Syene and the cataracts of the Nile, with the ſtipulation, that they ſhould ever reſpect and guard the fron⯑tier of the empire. The treaty long ſubſiſted; and till the eſtabliſhment of Chriſtianity intro⯑duced ſtricter notions of religious worſhip, it was annually ratified by a ſolemn ſacrifice in the iſle of Elephantine, in which the Romans, as well as the barbarians, adored the ſame viſible or invi⯑ſible powers of the univerſe ⁴⁸.

At the ſame time that Diocletian chaſtiſed the paſt crimes of the Egyptians, he provided for their future ſafety and happineſs by many wiſe re⯑gulations which were confirmed and enforced under the ſucceeding reigns ⁴⁹. One very remarkable edict, which he publiſhed, inſtead of being con⯑demned [137] as the effect of jealous tyranny, deſerves to be applauded as an act of prudence and humanity. He cauſed a diligent inquiry to be made ‘for all the He ſup⯑preſſes books of alchymy. ancient books which treated of the admirable art of making gold and ſilver, and without pity committed them to the flames; apprehen⯑ſive, as we are aſſured, leſt the opulence of the Egyptians ſhould inſpire them with confi⯑dence to rebel againſt the empire ⁵⁰.’ But if Diocletian had been convinced of the reality of that valuable art, far from extinguiſhing the me⯑mory, he would have converted the operation of it to the benefit of the public revenue. It is much more likely, that his good ſenſe diſcovered to him the folly of ſuch magnificent pretenſions, and that he was deſirous of preſerving the reaſon and fortunes of his ſubjects from the miſchievous Novelty and pro⯑greſs of that art. purſuit. It may be remarked, that theſe ancient books, ſo liberally aſcribed to Pythagoras, to Solomon, or to Hermes, were the pious frauds of more recent adepts. The Greeks were inat⯑tentive either to the uſe or to the abuſe of chy⯑miſtry. In that immenſe regiſter, where Pliny has depoſited the diſcoveries, the arts, and the errors of mankind, there is not the leaſt mention of the tranſmutation of metals; and the perſecu⯑tion of Diocletian is the firſt authentic event in the hiſtory of alchymy. The conqueſt of Egypt by the Arabs diffuſed that vain ſcience over the globe. Congenial to the avarice of the human heart, it was ſtudied in China as in Europe, with [138] equal eagerneſs, and with equal ſucceſs. The darkneſs of the middle ages enſured a favourable reception to every tale of wonder, and the re⯑vival of learning gave new vigour to hope, and ſuggeſted more ſpecious arts of deception. Phi⯑loſophy, with the aid of experience, has at length baniſhed the ſtudy of alchymy; and the preſent age, however deſirous of riches, is content to ſeek them by the humbler means of commerce and induſtry ⁵¹.

The reduction of Egypt was immediately fol⯑lowed The Per⯑ſian war. by the Perſian war. It was reſerved for the reign of Diocletian to vanquiſh that powerful nation, and to extort a confeſſion from the ſuc⯑ceſſors of Artaxerxes, of the ſuperior majeſty of the Roman empire.

We have obſerved under the reign of Valerian, that Armenia was ſubdued by the perfidy and the Tiridates the Arme⯑nian. arms of the Perſians, and that, after the aſſaſſi⯑nation of Choſroes, his ſon Tiridates, the infant heir of the monarchy, was ſaved by the fidelity of his friends, and educated under the protection of the emperors. Tiridates derived from his exile ſuch advantages as he could never have obtained on the throne of Armenia; the early knowledge of adverſity, of mankind, and of the Roman diſcipline. He ſignalized his youth by deeds of valour, and diſplayed a matchleſs dex⯑terity, as well as ſtrength, in every martial ex⯑erciſe, and even in the leſs honourable conteſts [139] of the Olympian games ⁵². Thoſe qualities were more nobly exerted in the defence of his bene⯑factor Licinius ⁵³. That officer, in the ſedition A. D. 282. which occaſioned the death of Probus, was ex⯑poſed to the moſt imminent danger, and the en⯑raged ſoldiers were forcing their way into his tent, when they were checked by the ſingle arm of the Armenian prince. The gratitude of Ti⯑ridates contributed ſoon afterwards to his reſtora⯑tion. I icinius was in every ſtation the friend and companion of Galerius, and the merit of Galerius, long before he was raiſed to the dignity of Caeſar, had been known and eſteemed by Dio⯑cletian. In the third year of that emperor's reign, Tiridates was inveſted with the kingdom of Armenia. The juſtice of the meaſure was not leſs evident than its expediency. It was time to reſcue from the uſurpation of the Perſian mo⯑narch an important territory, which, ſince the reign of Nero, had been always granted under the protection of the empire to a younger branch of the houſe of Arſaces ⁵⁴.

[140] When Tiridates appeared on the frontiers of Armenia, he was received with an unfeigned tranſport of joy and loyalty. During twenty-ſix A. D. 286. years, the country had experienced the real and His reſto⯑ration to the throne of Arme⯑nia. imaginary hardſhips of a foreign yoke. The Perſian monarchs adorned their new conqueſt with magnificent buildings; but thoſe monu⯑ments had been erected at the expence of the people, and were abhorred as badges of ſlavery. The apprehenſion of a revolt had inſpired the moſt rigorous precautions: oppreſſion had been State of the coun⯑try. aggravated by inſult, and the conſciouſneſs of the public hatred had been productive of every meaſure that could render it ſtill more impla⯑cable. We have already remarked the intolerant ſpirit of the Magian religion. The ſtatues of the deified kings of Armenia, and the ſacred images of the ſun and moon, were broke in pieces by the zeal of the conqueror; and the perpetual fire of Ormuzd was kindled and preſerved upon an altar erected on the ſummit of mount Bagavan ⁵⁵. It was natural, that a people exaſperated by ſo many injuries, ſhould arm with zeal in the cauſe Revolt of the people and no⯑bles. of their independence, their religion, and their hereditary ſovereign. The torrent bore down every obſtacle, and the Perſian garriſons retreated before its fury. The nobles of Armenia flew to [141] the ſtandard of Tiridates, all alleging their paſt merit, offering their future ſervice, and ſoliciting from the new king thoſe honours and rewards from which they had been excluded with diſdain under the foreign government ⁵⁶. The command of the army was beſtowed on Artavaſdes, whoſe father had ſaved the infancy of Tiridates, and whoſe family had been maſſacred for that gene⯑rous action. The brother of Artavaſdes obtained the government of a province. One of the firſt military dignities was conferred on the fatrap Otas, a man of ſingular temperance and forti⯑tude, who preſented to the king, his ſiſter ⁵⁷ and a conſiderable treaſure, both of which, in a ſe⯑queſtered fortreſs, Otas had preſerved from vio⯑lation. Among the Armenian nobles appeared Story of Mamgo. an ally, whoſe fortunes are too remarkable to paſs unnoticed. His name was Mamgo, his ori⯑gin was Scythian, and the horde which acknow⯑ledged his authority, had encamped a very few years before on the ſkirts of the Chineſe empire ⁵⁸, which at that time extended as far as the neigh⯑bourhood [142] of Sogdiana ⁵⁹. Having incurred the diſpleaſure of his maſter, Mamgo, with his fol⯑lowers, retired to the banks of the Oxus, and implored the protection of Sapor. The emperor of China claimed the fugitive, and alleged the rights of ſovereignty. The Perſian monarch pleaded the laws of hoſpitality, and with ſome difficulty avoided a war, by the promiſe that he would baniſh Mamgo to the uttermoſt parts of the Weſt; a puniſhment, as he deſcribed it, not leſs dreadful than death itſelf. Armenia was choſen for the place of exile, and a large diſtrict was aſſigned to the Scythian horde, on which they might feed their flocks and herds, and re⯑move their encampment from one place to an⯑other, according to the different ſeaſons of the year. They were employed to repel the invaſion of Tiridates; but their leader, after weighing the obligations and injuries which he had received from the Perſian monarch, reſolved to abandon his party. The Armenian prince, who was well acquainted with the merit as well as power of Mamgo, treated him with diſtinguiſhed reſpect; and by admitting him into his confidence, ac⯑quired [143] a brave and faithful ſervant, who contri⯑buted very effectually to his reſtoration ⁶⁰.

For a while, fortune appeared to favour the The Per⯑ſians reco⯑ver Arme⯑nia. enterpriſing valour of Tiridates. He not only expelled the enemies of his family and country from the whole extent of Armenia, but in the proſecution of his revenge he carried his arms, or at leaſt his incurſions, into the heart of Aſſyria. The hiſtorian, who has preſerved the name of Tiridates from oblivion, celebrates, with a de⯑gree of national enthuſiaſm, his perſonal proweſs; and, in the true ſpirit of eaſtern romance, de⯑ſcribes the giants and the elephants that fell be⯑neath his invincible arm. It is from other infor⯑mation that we diſcover the diſtracted ſtate of the Perſian monarchy, to which the king of Armenia was indebted for ſome part of his advantages. The throne was diſputed by the ambition of con⯑tending brothers; and Hormuz, after exerting without ſucceſs the ſtrength of his own party, had recourſe to the dangerous aſſiſtance of the barbarians who inhabited the banks of the Caſ⯑pian Sea ⁶¹. The civil war was, however, ſoon terminated, either by a victory, or by a recon⯑ciliation; and Narſes, who was univerſally ac⯑knowledged as king of Perſia, directed his whole [144] force againſt the foreign enemy. The conteſt then became too unequal; nor was the valour of the hero able to withſtand the power of the mo⯑narch. Tiridates, a ſecond time expelled from the throne of Armenia, once more took refuge in the court of the emperors. Narſes ſoon re⯑eſtabliſhed his authority over the revolted pro⯑vince; and loudly complaining of the protection afforded by the Romans to rebels and fugitives, aſpired to the conqueſt of the Eaſt ⁶².

Neither prudence nor honour could permit the War be⯑tween the Perſians and the Romans. emperors to forſake the cauſe of the Armenian king, and it was reſolved to exert the force of the empire in the Perſian war. Diocletian, with A. D. 296. the calm dignity which he conſtantly aſſumed, fixed his own ſtation in the city of Antioch, from whence he prepared and directed the military operations ⁶³. The conduct of the legions was intruſted to the intrepid valour of Galerius, who, for that important purpoſe, was removed from the banks of the Danube to thoſe of the Euphrates. The armies ſoon encountered each other in the Defeat of Galerius. plains of Meſopotamia, and two battles were fought with various and doubtful ſucceſs: but the third engagement was of a more deciſive na⯑ture; [145] and the Roman army received a total over⯑throw, which is attributed to the raſhneſs of Ga⯑lerius, who, with an inconſiderable body of troops, attacked the innumerable hoſt of the Perſians ⁶⁴. But the conſideration of the country that was the ſcene of action, may ſuggeſt another reaſon for his defeat. The ſame ground on which Galerius was vanquiſhed, had been rendered me⯑morable by the death of Craſſus, and the ſlaugh⯑ter of ten legions. It was a plain of more than ſixty miles, which extended from the hills of Carrhae to the Euphrates; a ſmooth and barren ſurface of ſandy deſert, without a hillock, with⯑out a tree, and without a ſpring of freſh water ⁶⁵. The ſteady infantry of the Romans, fainting with heat and thirſt, could neither hope for victory if they preſerved their ranks, nor break their ranks without expoſing themſelves to the moſt immi⯑nent danger. In this ſituation they were gradu⯑ally encompaſſed by the ſuperior numbers, ha⯑raſſed by the rapid evolutions, and deſtroyed by the arrows of the barbarian cavalry. The king of Armenia had ſignalized his valour in the battle, and acquired perſonal glory by the public miſ⯑fortune. He was purſued as far as the Eu⯑phrates; his horſe was wounded, and it appeared impoſſible for him to eſcape the victorious enemy. [146] In this extremity Tiridates embraced the only refuge which he ſaw before him: he diſmounted and plunged into the ſtream. His armour was heavy, the river very deep, and at thoſe parts at leaſt half a mile in breadth ⁶⁶; yet ſuch was his ſtrength and dexterity, that he reached in ſafety the oppoſite bank ⁶⁷. With regard to the Roman general, we are ignorant of the circumſtances of his eſcape; but when he returned to Antioch, Diocletian received him, not with the tenderneſs His recep⯑tion by Diocle⯑tian. of a friend and colleague, but with the indigna⯑tion of an offended ſovereign. The haughtieſt of men, clothed in his purple, but humbled by the ſenſe of his fault and misfortune, was obliged to follow the emperor's chariot above a mile on foot, and to exhibit, before the whole court, the ſpectacle of his diſgrace ⁶⁸.

As ſoon as Diocletian had indulged his private Second campaign of Gale⯑rius. reſentment, and aſſerted the majeſty of ſupreme power, he yielded to the ſubmiſſive entreaties of the Caeſar, and permitted him to retrieve his own A. D. 297. honour as well as that of the Roman arms. In the room of the unwarlike troops of Aſia, which had moſt probably ſerved in the firſt expedition, a ſecond army was drawn from the veterans and new levies of the Illyrian frontier, and a conſi⯑derable [147] body of Gothic auxiliaries were taken into the Imperial pay ⁶⁹. At the head of a choſen army of twenty-five thouſand men, Galerius again paſſed the Euphrates; but, inſtead of expoſing his legions in the open plains of Meſopotamia, he advanced through the mountains of Armenia, where he found the inhabitants devoted to his cauſe, and the country as favourable to the ope⯑rations of infantry, as it was inconvenient for the motions of cavalry ⁷⁰. Adverſity had confirmed the Roman diſcipline, while the barbarians, His vic⯑tory. elated by ſucceſs, were become ſo negligent and remiſs, that in the moment when they leaſt ex⯑pected it, they were ſurpriſed by the active con⯑duct of Galerius, who, attended only by two horſemen, had with his own eyes ſecretly exa⯑mined the ſtate and poſition of their camp. A ſurprize, eſpecially in the night-time, was for the moſt part fatal to a Perſian army. ‘Their horſes were tied, and generally ſhackled, to prevent their running away; and if an alarm happened, a Perſian had his houſing to fix, his horſe to bridle, and his corſlet to put on, before he could mount ⁷¹.’ On this occaſion, the impetuous attack of Galerius ſpread diſorder and diſmay over the camp of the barbarians. A ſlight reſiſtance was followed by a dreadful car⯑nage, [148] and, in the general confuſion, the wound⯑ed monarch (for Narſes commanded his armies in perſon) fled towards the deſerts of Media. His ſumptuous tents, and thoſe of his ſatraps, afforded an immenſe booty to the conqueror; and an incident is mentioned, which proves the ruſtic but martia ignorance of the legions in the ele⯑gant ſuperfluities of life. A bag of ſhining lea⯑ther filled with pearls, fell into the hands of a private ſoldier; he carefully preſerved the bag, but he threw away its contents, judging, that whatever was of no uſe could not poſſibly be of any value ⁷². The principal loſs of Narſes was and beha⯑viour to his royal captives. of a much more affecting nature. Several of his wives, his ſiſters, and children, who had attended the army, were made captives in the defeat. But though the character of Galerius had in general very little affinity with that of Alexander, he imitated, after his victory, the amiable behaviour of the Macedonian towards the family of Darius. The wives and children of Narſes were protected from violence and rapine, conveyed to a place of ſafety, and treated with every mark of reſpect and tenderneſs, that was due from a generous enemy, to their age, their ſex, and their royal dignity ⁷³.

While the Eaſt anxiouſly expected the deciſion of this great conteſt, the emperor Diocletian, Negocia⯑tion for peace. [149] having aſſembled in Syria a ſtrong army of ob⯑ſervation, diſplayed from a diſtance the reſources of the Roman power, and reſerved himſelf for any future emergency of the war. On the intel⯑ligence of the victory, he condeſcended to ad⯑vance towards the frontier; with a view of mo⯑derating, by his preſence and counſels, the pride of Galerius. The interview of the Roman princes at Niſibis was accompanied with every expreſſion of reſpect on one ſide, and of eſteem on the other. It was in that city that they ſoon after⯑wards gave audience to the ambaſſador of the Great King ⁷⁴. The power, or at leaſt the ſpirit of Narſes, had been broken by his laſt defeat; and he conſidered an immediate peace as the only means that could ſtop the progreſs of the Roman arms. He diſpatched Apharban, a ſervant who poſſeſſed his favour and confidence, with a com⯑miſſion to negociate a treaty, or rather to receive whatever conditions the conqueror ſhould im⯑poſe. Apharban opened the conference by ex⯑preſſing Speech of the Perſian ambaſſa⯑dor. his maſter's gratitude for the generous treatment of his family, and by ſoliciting the li⯑berty of thoſe illuſtrious captives. He celebrated the valour of Galerius without degrading the re⯑putation of Narſes, and thought it no diſhonour to confeſs the ſuperiority of the victorious Caeſar, over a monarch who had ſurpaſſed in glory all [150] the princes of his race. Notwithſtanding the juſtice of the Perſian cauſe, he was empowered to ſubmit the preſent differences to the deciſion of the emperors themſelves; convinced as he was, that, in the midſt of proſperity, they would not be unmindful of the viciſſitudes of fortune. Apharban concluded his diſcourſe in the ſtyle of eaſtern allegory, by obſerving that the Roman and Perſian monarchies were the two eyes of the world, which would remain imperfect and muti⯑lated if either of them ſhould be put out.

‘It well becomes the Perſians, replied Ga⯑lerius, Anſwer of Galerius. with a tranſport of fury, which ſeemed to convulſe his whole frame, it well becomes the Perſians to expatiate on the viciſſitudes of for⯑tune, and calmly to read us lectures on the virtues of moderation. Let them remember their own moderation towards the unhappy Va⯑lerian. They vanquiſhed him by fraud, they treated him with indignity. They detained him till the laſt moment of his life in ſhame⯑ful captivity, and after his death they expoſed his body to perpetual ignominy.’ Softening, however, his tone, Galerius inſinuated to the am⯑baſſador, that it had never been the practice of the Romans to trample on a proſtrate enemy; and that, on this occaſion, they ſhould conſult their own dignity, rather than the Perſian merit. He diſmiſſed Apharban with a hope, that Narſes would ſoon be informed on what conditions he might obtain, from the clemency of the empe⯑rors, a laſting peace, and the reſtoration of his [151] wives and children. In this conference we may diſcover the fierce paſſions of Galerius, as well as his deference to the ſuperior wiſdom and au⯑thority of Diocletian. The ambition of the for⯑mer graſped at the conqueſt of the Eaſt, and had propoſed to reduce Perſia into the ſtate of a pro⯑vince. The prudence of the latter, who adhered Modera⯑tion of Di⯑ocletian. to the moderate policy of Auguſtus and the An⯑tonines, embraced the favourable opportunity of terminating a ſucceſsful war by an honourable and advantageous peace ⁷⁵.

In purſuance of their promiſe, the emperors ſoon afterwards appointed Sicorius Probus, one Concluſion of their ſecretaries, to acquaint the Perſian court with their final reſolution. As the miniſter of peace, he was received with every mark of po⯑liteneſs and friendſhip; but, under the pretence of allowing him the neceſſary repoſe after ſo long a journey, the audience of Probus was deferred from day to day; and he attended the ſlow mo⯑tions of the king, till at length he was admitted to his preſence, near the river Aſprudus in Media. The ſecret motive of Narſes in this delay, had been to collect ſuch a military force, as might enable him, though ſincerely deſirous of peace, to negociate with the greater weight and dignity. Three perſons only aſſiſted at this important con⯑ference, the miniſter Apharban, the praefect of the guards, and an officer who had commanded [152] on the Armenian frontier ⁷⁶. The firſt condition propoſed by the ambaſſador, is not at preſent of a very intelligible nature; that the city of Niſibis might be eſtabliſhed for the place of mutual ex⯑change, or, as we ſhould formerly have termed it, for the ſtaple of trade, between the two em⯑pires. There is no difficulty in conceiving the intention of the Roman princes to improve their revenue by ſome reſtraints upon commerce; but as Niſibis was ſituated within their own domi⯑nions, and as they were maſters both of the im⯑ports and exports, it ſhould ſeem, that ſuch re⯑ſtraints were the objects of an internal law, rather than of a foreign treaty. To render them more effectual, ſome ſtipulations were probably re⯑quired on the ſide of the king of Perſia, which appeared ſo very repugnant either to his intereſt or to his dignity, that Narſes could not be per⯑ſuaded to ſubſcribe them. As this was the only article to which he refuſed his conſent, it was no longer inſiſted on; and the emperors either ſuffered the trade to flow in its natural channels, or contented themſelves with ſuch reſtrictions, as it depended on their own authority to eſta⯑bliſh.

As ſoon as this difficulty was removed, a ſo⯑lemn peace was concluded and ratified between and arti⯑cles of the treaty. the two nations. The conditions of a treaty ſo glorious to the empire, and ſo neceſſary to Perſia, [153] may deſerve a more peculiar attention, as the hiſtory of Rome preſents very few tranſactions of a ſimilar nature; moſt of her wars having either been terminated by abſolute conqueſt, or waged againſt barbarians ignorant of the uſe of letters. I. The Aboras, or, as it is called by Xenophon, The Abo⯑ras fixed as the limits between the em⯑pires. the Araxes, was fixed as the boundary between the two monarchies ⁷⁷. That river, which roſe near the Tigris, was increaſed a few miles below Niſibis, by the little ſtream of the Mygdonius, paſſed under the walls of Singara, and fell into the Euphrates at Circeſium, a frontier town, which, by the care of Diocletian, was very ſtrongly fortified ⁷⁸. Meſopotamia, the object of ſo many wars, was ceded to the empire; and the Perſians, by this treaty, renounced all pre⯑tenſions to that great province. II. They relin⯑quiſhed Ceſſion of five pro⯑vinces be⯑yond the Tigris. to the Romans five provinces beyond the Tigris ⁷⁹. Their ſituation formed a very uſeful barrier, and their natural ſtrength was ſoon im⯑proved [154] by art and military ſkill. Four of theſe, to the north of the river, were diſtricts of obſcure fame and inconſiderable extent; Intiline, Zab⯑dicene, Arzanene, and Moxoene: but on the eaſt of the Tigris, the empire acquired the large and mountainous territory of Carduene, the an⯑cient ſeat of the Carduchians, who preſerved for many ages their manly freedom in the heart of the deſpotic monarchies of Aſia. The ten thou⯑ſand Greeks traverſed their country, after a pain⯑ful march, or rather engagement, of ſeven days; and it is confeſſed by their leader, in his incom⯑parable relation of the retreat, that they ſuffered more from the arrows of the Carduchians, than from the power of the Great King ⁸⁰. Their poſterity, the Curds, with very little alteration either of name or manners, acknowledged the nominal ſovereignty of the Turkiſh ſultan. III. It Armenia. is almoſt needleſs to obſerve, that Tiridates, the faithful ally of Rome, was reſtored to the throne of his fathers, and that the rights of the Imperial ſupremacy were fully aſſerted and ſe⯑cured. The limits of Armenia were extended as far as the fortreſs of Sintha in Media, and this increaſe of dominion was not ſo much an act of liberality as of juſtice. Of the provinces already mentioned beyond the Tigris, the four firſt had been diſmembered by the Parthians from the [155] crown of Armenia ⁸¹; and when the Romans ac⯑quired the poſſeſſion of them, they ſtipulated, at the expence of the uſurpers, an ample compen⯑ſation, which inveſted their ally with the exten⯑ſive and fertile country of Atropatene. Its prin⯑cipal city, in the ſame ſituation perhaps as the modern Tauris, was frequently honoured with the reſidence of Tiridates; and as it ſometimes bore the name of Ecbatana, he imitated, in the buildings and fortifications, the ſplendid capital of the Medes ⁸². IV. The country of Iberia was Iberia. barren, its inhabitants rude and ſavage. But they were accuſtomed to the uſe of arms, and they ſeparated from the empire barbarians much fiercer and more formidable than themſelves. The narrow defiles of Mount Caucaſus were in their hands, and it was in their choice, either to admit or to exclude the wandering tribes of Sar⯑matia, whenever a rapacious ſpirit urged them to penetrate into the richer climates of the South ⁸³. The nomination of the kings of Iberia, which was reſigned by the Perſian monarch to the em⯑perors, contributed to the ſtrength and ſecurity of the Roman power in Aſia ⁸⁴. The Eaſt en⯑joyed [156] a profound tranquillity during forty years; and the treaty between the rival monarchies was ſtrictly obſerved till the death of Tiridates; when a new generation, animated with different views and different paſſions, ſucceeded to the govern⯑ment of the world; and the grandſon of Narſes undertook a long and memorable war againſt the princes of the houſe of Conſtantine.

The arduous work of reſcuing the diſtreſſed Triumph of Diocle⯑tian and Maximi⯑an. empire from tyrants and barbarians had now been completely atchieved by a ſucceſſion of Illyrian peaſants. As ſoon as Diocletian entered into the A. D. 303. Nov. 20. twentieth year of his reign, he celebrated that memorable aera, as well as the ſucceſs of his arms, by the pomp of a Roman triumph ⁸⁵. Maximian, the equal partner of his power, was his only companion in the glory of that day. The two Caeſars had fought and conquered, but the merit of their exploits was aſcribed, accord⯑ing to the rigour of ancient maxims, to the au⯑ſpicious influence of their fathers and emperors ⁸⁶. The triumph of Diocletian and Maximian was leſs magnificent perhaps than thoſe of Aurelian and Probus, but it was dignified by ſeveral cir⯑cumſtances of ſuperior fame and good fortune. Africa and Britain, the Rhine, the Danube, and the Nile, furniſhed their reſpective trophies; but the moſt diſtinguiſhed ornament was of a more [157] ſingular nature, a Perſian victory followed by an important conqueſt. The repreſentations of ri⯑vers, mountains, and provinces, were carried before the Imperial car. The images of the captive wives, the ſiſters, and the children of the Great King, afforded a new and grateful ſpec⯑tacle to the vanity of the people ⁸⁷. In the eyes of poſterity this triumph is remarkable, by a diſtinction of a leſs honourable kind. It was the laſt that Rome ever beheld. Soon after this period, the emperors ceaſed to vanquiſh, and Rome ceaſed to be the capital of the empire.

The ſpot on which Rome was founded, Long ab⯑ſence of the empe⯑rors from Rome. had been conſecrated by ancient ceremonies and imaginary miracles. The preſence of ſome god, or the memory of ſome hero, ſeemed to animate every part of the city, and the empire of the world had been promiſed to the Capitol ⁸⁸. The native Romans felt and confeſſed the power of this agreeable illuſion. It was derived from their anceſtors, had grown up with their earlieſt habits of life, and was protected, in ſome mea⯑ſure, by the opinion of political utility. The form and the ſeat of government were intimately blended together, nor was it eſteemed poſſible to tranſport the one without deſtroying the [158] other ⁸⁹. But the ſovereignty of the capital was gradually annihilated in the extent of conqueſt; the provinces roſe to the ſame level, and the vanquiſhed nations acquired the name and pri⯑vileges, without imbibing the partial affections, of Romans. During a long period, however, the remains of the ancient conſtitution, and the influence of cuſtom, preſerved the dignity of Rome. The emperors, though perhaps of Afri⯑can or Illyrian extraction, reſpected their adopt⯑ed country, as the ſeat of their power, and the centre of their extenſive dominions. The emer⯑gencies of war very frequently required their preſence on the frontiers; but Diocletian and Maximian were the firſt Roman princes who fixed, in time of peace, their ordinary reſidence in the provinces; and their conduct, however it might be ſuggeſted by private motives, was juſ⯑tified by very ſpecious conſiderations of policy. The court of the emperor of the Weſt was, for Their reſi⯑dence at Milan the moſt part, eſtabliſhed at Milan, whoſe ſitu⯑ation, at the foot of the Alps, appeared far more convenient than that of Rome, for the important purpoſe of watching the motions of the barbarians of Germany. Milan ſoon aſſum⯑ed the ſplendour of an Imperial city. The houſes are deſcribed as numerous and well-built; [159] the manners of the people as poliſhed and liberal. A circus, a theatre, a mint, a pa⯑lace, baths, which bore the name of their founder Maximian; porticoes adorned with ſtatues, and a double circumference of walls, contributed to the beauty of the new capital; nor did it ſeem oppreſſed even by the proximity of Rome ⁹⁰. To rival the majeſty of Rome was the ambition likewiſe of Diocletian, who employed his lei⯑ſure, and Nico⯑media. and the wealth of the Eaſt, in the embel⯑liſhment of Nicomedia, a city placed on the verge of Europe and Aſia, almoſt at an equal diſtance between the Danube and the Euphrates. By the taſte of the monarch, and at the expence of the people, Nicomedia acquired, in the ſpace of a few years, a degree of magnificence which might appear to have required the labour of ages, and became inferior only to Rome, Alex⯑andria, and Antioch, in extent or populouſneſs ⁹¹. The life of Diocletian and Maximian was a life [160] of action, and a conſiderable portion of it was ſpent in camps, or in their long and frequent marches; but whenever the public buſineſs al⯑lowed them any relaxation, they ſeem to have retired with pleaſure to their favourite reſidences of Nicomedia and Milan. Till Diocletian, in the twentieth year of his reign, celebrated his Roman triumph, it is extremely doubtful whe⯑ther he ever viſited the ancient capital of the empire. Even on that memorable occaſion his ſtay did not exceed two months. Diſguſted with the licentious familiarity of the people, he quitted Rome with precipitation thirteen days before it was expected that he ſhould have ap⯑peared in the ſenate, inveſted with the enſigns of the conſular dignity ⁹².

The diſlike expreſſed by Diocletian towards Debaſe⯑ment of Rome and of the ſe⯑nate. Rome and Roman freedom, was not the effect of momentary caprice, but the reſult of the moſt artful policy. That crafty prince had framed a new ſyſtem of Imperial government, which was afterwards completed by the family of Conſtan⯑tine; and as the image of the old conſtitution was religiouſly preſerved in the ſenate, he reſolved to deprive that order of its ſmall remains of power and conſideration. We may recollect, about eight years before the elevation of Dio⯑cletian, the tranſient greatneſs, and the ambi⯑tious hopes, of the Roman ſenate. As long as that enthuſiaſm prevailed, many of the nobles [161] imprudently diſplayed their zeal in the cauſe of freedom; and after the ſucceſſors of Probus had withdrawn their countenance from the republican party, the ſenators were unable to diſguiſe their impotent reſentment. As the ſovereign of Italy, Maximian was intruſted with the care of extin⯑guiſhing this troubleſome, rather than danger⯑ous, ſpirit, and the taſk was perfectly ſuited to his cruel temper. The moſt illuſtrious mem⯑bers of the ſenate, whom Diocletian always affect⯑ed to eſteem, were involved, by his colleague, in the accuſation of imaginary plots; and the poſſeſſion of an elegant villa, or a well cultivated eſtate, was interpreted as a convincing evidence of guilt ⁹³. The camp of the Praetorians, which had ſo long oppreſſed, began to protect, the ma⯑jeſty of Rome; and as thoſe haughty troops were conſcious of the decline of their power, they were naturally diſpoſed to unite their ſtrength with the authority of the ſenate. By the prudent meaſures of Diocletian, the numbers of the Prae⯑torians were inſenſibly reduced, their privileges aboliſhed ⁹⁴, and their place ſupplied by two New bo⯑dies of guards, Jovians and Her⯑culians. faithful legions of Illyricum, who, under the new titles of Jovians and Herculians, were ap⯑pointed to perform the ſervice of the Imperial [162] guards ⁹⁵. But the moſt fatal though ſecret wound, which the ſenate received from the hands of Diocletian and Maximian, was inflicted by the inevitable operation of their abſence. As long as the emperors reſided at Rome, that aſſembly might be oppreſſed, but it could ſcarcely be neglected. The ſucceſſors of Auguſtus exerciſed the power of dictating whatever laws their wiſ⯑dom or caprice might ſuggeſt; but thoſe laws were ratified by the ſanction of the ſenate. The model of ancient freedom was preſerved in its deliberations and decrees; and wiſe princes, who reſpected the prejudices of the Roman people, were in ſome meaſure obliged to aſſume the lan⯑guage and behaviour ſuitable to the general and firſt magiſtrate of the republic. In the armies and in the provinces, they diſplayed the dignity of monarchs; and when they fixed their reſidence at a diſtance from the capital, they for ever laid aſide the diſſimulation which Auguſtus had recommended to his ſucceſſors. In the exerciſe of the legiſlative as well as the executive power, the ſovereign adviſed with his miniſters, inſtead of conſulting the great council of the nation. The name of the ſenate was mentioned with honour till the laſt period of the empire; the [163] vanity of its members was ſtill flattered with honorary diſtinctions ⁹⁶; but the aſſembly which had ſo long been the ſource, and ſo long the inſtrument of power, was reſpectfully ſuffered to ſink into oblivion. The ſenate of Rome, loſing all connection with the Imperial court and the actual conſtitution, was left a venerable but uſe⯑leſs monument of antiquity on the Capitoline hill.

When the Roman princes had loſt ſight of the ſenate and of their ancient capital, they eaſily Civil ma⯑giſtracies laid aſide. forgot the origin and nature of their legal power. The civil offices of conſul, of proconſul, of cen⯑ſor, and of tribune, by the union of which it had been formed, betrayed to the people its republican extraction. Thoſe modeſt titles were laid aſide ⁹⁷; and if they ſtill diſtinguiſhed their high ſtation by the appellation of Emperor, or IMPERATOR, that word was underſtood in a new and more dignified ſenſe, and no longer denoted the general of the Roman armies, but the ſove⯑reign of the Roman world. The name of Em⯑peror, which was at firſt of a military nature, Imperial dignity and titles. was aſſociated with another of a more ſervile kind. The epithet of DOMINUS, or Lord, in its primitive ſignification, was expreſſive, not of the authority of a prince over his ſubjects, or [164] of a commander over his ſoldiers, but of the deſpotic power of a maſter over his domeſtic ſlaves ⁹⁸. Viewing it in that odious light, it had been rejected with abhorrence by the firſt Caeſars. Their reſiſtance inſenſibly became more feeble, and the name leſs odious; till at length the ſtyle of our Lord and Emperor, was not only be⯑ſtowed by flattery, but was regularly admitted into the laws and public monuments. Such lofty epithets were ſufficient to elate and ſatisfy the moſt exceſſive vanity; and if the ſucceſſors of Diocletian ſtill declined the title of King, it ſeems to have been the effect not ſo much of their moderation as of their delicacy. Wherever the Latin tongue was in uſe (and it was the lan⯑guage of government throughout the empire), the Imperial title, as it was peculiar to them⯑ſelves, conveyed a more reſpectable idea than the name of King, which they muſt have ſhared with an hundred barbarian chieftains; or which, at the beſt, they could derive only from Romulus or from Tarquin. But the ſentiments of the Eaſt were very different from thoſe of the Weſt. From the earlieſt period of hiſtory, the ſovereigns of Aſia had been celebrated in the Greek lan⯑guage by the title of BASILEUS, or King; and ſince it was conſidered as the firſt diſtinction [165] among men, it was ſoon employed by the ſervile provincials of the Eaſt, in their humble addreſſes to the Roman throne ⁹⁹. Even the attributes, or at leaſt the titles of the DIVINITY, were uſurped by Diocletian and Maximian, who tranſ⯑mitted them to a ſucceſſion of Chriſtian empe⯑rors ¹⁰⁰. Such extravagant compliments, how⯑ever, ſoon loſe their impiety by loſing their meaning; and when the ear is once accuſtomed to the ſound, they are heard with indifference as vague though exceſſive proſeſſions of reſpect.

From the time of Auguſtus to that of Diocle⯑tian, Diocletian aſſumes the diadem, and intro⯑duces the Perſian ce⯑remonial. the Roman princes converſing in a familiar manner among their fellow-citizens, were ſaluted only with the ſame reſpect that was uſually paid to ſenators and magiſtrates. Their principal diſtinction was the Imperial or military robe of purple; whilſt the ſenatorial garment was marked by a broad, and the equeſtrian by a narrow, band or ſtripe of the ſame honourable colour. The pride, or rather the policy, of Diocletian, engaged that artful prince to introduce the ſtately magnificence of the court of Perſia ¹⁰¹. He ven⯑tured to aſſume the diadem, an ornament deteſt⯑ed by the Romans as the odious enſign of roy⯑alty, and the uſe of which had been conſidered [166] as the moſt deſperate act of the madneſs of Caligula. It was no more than a broad white fillet ſet with pearls, which encircled the empe⯑ror's head. The ſumptuous robes of Diocletian and his ſucceſſors were of ſilk and gold; and it is remarked with indignation, that even their ſhoes were ſtudded with the moſt precious gems. The acceſs to their ſacred perſon was every day rendered more difficult, by the inſtitution of new forms and ceremonies. The avenues of the palace were ſtrictly guarded by the various ſchools, as they began to be called, of domeſtic officers. The interior apartments were intruſted to the jealous vigilance of the eunuchs; the increaſe of whoſe numbers and influence was the moſt infallible ſymptom of the progreſs of deſpotiſm. When a ſubject was at length admitted to the Imperial preſence, he was obliged, whatever might be his rank, to fall proſtrate on the ground, and to adore, according to the eaſtern faſhion, the divinity of his lord and maſter ¹⁰². Diocletian was a man of ſenſe, who, in the courſe of private as well as public life, had formed a juſt eſtimate both of himſelf and of mankind: nor is it eaſy to conceive, that in ſubſtituting the manners of Perſia to thoſe of Rome, he was ſeriouſly actuated by ſo mean a principle as that of vanity. He flattered himſelf, that an oſtentation of ſplendour and luxury would ſub⯑due the imagination of the multitude; that the [167] monarch would be leſs expoſed to the rude licence of the people and the ſoldiers, as his perſon was ſecluded from the public view; and that habits of ſubmiſſion would inſenſibly be productive of ſentiments of veneration. Like the modeſty affected by Auguſtus, the ſtate maintained by Diocletian was a theatrical repreſentation; but it muſt be confeſſed, that of the two comedies, the former was of a much more liberal and manly character than the latter. It was the aim of the one to diſguiſe, and the object of the other to diſplay, the unbounded power which the em⯑perors poſſeſſed over the Roman world.

Oſtentation was the firſt principle of the new New form of admini⯑ſtration, two Au⯑guſti, and two Cae⯑ſars. ſyſtem inſtituted by Diocletian. The ſecond was diviſion. He divided the empire, the provinces, and every branch of the civil as well as military adminiſtration. He multiplied the wheels of the machine of government, and rendered its ope⯑rations leſs rapid but more ſecure. Whatever advantages, and whatever defects might attend theſe innovations, they muſt be aſcribed in a very great degree to the firſt inventor; but as the new frame of policy was gradually improved and completed by ſucceeding princes, it will be more ſatisfactory to delay the conſideration of it till the ſeaſon of its full maturity and perfection ¹⁰³. Reſerving, therefore, for the reign of Conſtan⯑tine [168] a more exact picture of the new empire, we ſhall content ourſelves with deſcribing the prin⯑cipal and deciſive outline, as it was traced by the hand of Diocletian. He had aſſociated three colleagues in the exerciſe of the ſupreme power; and as he was convinced that the abilities of a ſingle man were inadequate to the public defence, he conſidered the joint adminiſtration of four princes not as a temporary expedient, but as a fundamental law of the conſtitution. It was his intention, that the two elder princes ſhould be diſtinguiſhed by the uſe of the diadem, and the title of Auguſti: that, as affection or eſteem might direct their choice, they ſhould regularly call to their aſſiſtance two ſubordinate colleagues; and that the Caeſars, riſing in their turn to the firſt rank, ſhould ſupply an uninterrupted ſucceſſion of emperors. The empire was divided into four parts. The Eaſt and Italy were the moſt ho⯑nourable, the Danube and the Rhine the moſt laborious ſtations. The former claimed the preſence of the Auguſti, the latter were intruſted to the adminiſtration of the Caeſars. The ſtrength of the legions was in the hands of the four part⯑ners of ſovereignty, and the deſpair of ſucceſ⯑ſively vanquiſhing four formidable rivals, might intimidate the ambition of an aſpiring general. In their civil government, the emperors were ſuppoſed to exerciſe the undivided power of the monarch, and their edicts, inſcribed with their joint names, were received in all the provinces, as promulgated by their mutual councils and authority. Notwithſtanding theſe precautions, [169] the political union of the Roman world was gra⯑dually diſſolved, and a principle of diviſion was introduced, which, in the courſe of a few years, occaſioned the perpetual ſeparation of the eaſtern and weſtern empires.

The ſyſtem of Diocletian was accompanied Increaſe of taxes. with another very material diſadvantage, which cannot even at preſent be totally overlooked; a more expenſive eſtabliſhment, and conſequently an increaſe of taxes, and the oppreſſion of the people. Inſtead of a modeſt family of ſlaves and freedmen, ſuch as had contented the ſimple greatneſs of Auguſtus and Trajan, three or four magnificent courts were eſtabliſhed in the various parts of the empire, and as many Roman kings contended with each other and with the Perſian monarch for the vain ſuperiority of pomp and luxury. The number of miniſters, of magiſtrates, of officers, and of ſervants, who filled the different departments of the ſtate, was multiplied beyond the example of former times; and (if we may borrow the warm expreſſion of a contemporary), ‘when the proportion of thoſe who received, exceeded the proportion of thoſe who con⯑tributed, the provinces were oppreſſed by the weight of tributes ¹⁰⁴.’ From this period to the extinction of the empire, it would be eaſy to deduce an uninterrupted ſeries of clamours and complaints. According to his religion and ſitu⯑ation, each writer chuſes either Diocletian, or Conſtantine, or Valens, or Theodoſius, for the [170] object of his invectives; but they unanimouſly agree in repreſenting the burden of the public impoſitions, and particularly the land-tax and capitation, as the intolerable and increaſing grievance of their own times. From ſuch a con⯑currence, an impartial hiſtorian, who is obliged to extract truth from ſatire, as well as from pa⯑negyric, will be inclined to divide the blame among the princes whom they accuſe, and to aſcribe their exactions much leſs to their perſonal vices, than to the uniform ſyſtem of their admi⯑niſtration. The emperor Diocletian was indeed the author of that ſyſtem; but during his reign, the growing evil was confined within the bounds of modeſty and diſcretion, and he deſerves the reproach of eſtabliſhing pernicious precedents, rather than of exerciſing actual oppreſſion ¹⁰⁵. It may be added, that his revenues were manag⯑ed with prudent oeconomy; and that after all the current expences were diſcharged, there ſtill remained in the Imperial treaſury an ample pro⯑viſion either for judicious liberality or for any emergency of the ſtate.

It was in the twenty-firſt year of his reign that Diocletian executed his memorable reſolution of Abdicati⯑on of Dio⯑cletian and Maximi⯑an. abdicating the empire; an action more naturally to have been expected from the elder or the younger Antoninus, than from a prince who had never practiſed the leſſons of philoſophy either in the attainment or in the uſe of ſupreme power. [171] Diocletian acquired the glory of giving to the world the firſt example of a reſignation ¹⁰⁶, which has not been very frequently imitated by ſucceed⯑ing monarchs. The parallel of Charles the Fifth, Reſem⯑blance to Charles the Fifth. however, will naturally offer itſelf to our mind, not only ſince the eloquence of a modern hiſto⯑rian has rendered that name ſo familiar to an Engliſh reader, but from the very ſtriking reſem⯑blance between the characters of the two empe⯑rors, whoſe political abilities were ſuperior to their military genius, and whoſe ſpecious virtues were much leſs the effect of nature than of art. The abdication of Charles appears to have been haſtened by the viciſſitude of fortune; and the diſappointment of his favourite ſchemes urged him to relinquiſh a power which he found in⯑adequate to his ambition. But the reign of Diocletian had flowed with a tide of uninter⯑rupted ſucceſs; nor was it till after he had van⯑quiſhed all his enemies, and accompliſhed all his deſigns, that he ſeems to have entertained any ſerious thoughts of reſigning the empire. Neither Charles nor Diocletian were arrived at a very advanced period of life; ſince the one was only fifty-five, and the other was no more than fifty-nine years of age; but the active life of thoſe princes, their wars and journies, the cares of royalty, and their application to buſineſs, had [172] already impaired their conſtitution, and brought on the infirmities of a premature old age ¹⁰⁷.

Notwithſtanding the ſeverity of a very cold and rainy winter, Diocletian left Italy ſoon after A. D. 304. Long ill⯑neſs of Diocle⯑tian. the ceremony of his triumph, and began his progreſs towards the Eaſt round the circuit of the Illyrian provinces. From the inclemency of the weather, and the fatigue of the journey, he ſoon contracted a ſlow illneſs; and though he made eaſy marches, and was generally carried in a cloſe litter, his diſorder, before he arrived at Nicomedia, about the end of the ſummer, was become very ſerious and alarming. During the whole winter he was confined to his palace; his danger inſpired a general and unaffected concern; but the people could only judge of the various alterations of his health, from the joy or con⯑ſternation which they diſcovered in the coun⯑tenances and behaviour of his attendants. The rumour of his death was for ſome time univer⯑ſally believed, and it was ſuppoſed to be con⯑cealed, with a view to prevent the troubles that might have happened during the abſence of the Caeſar Galerius. At length, however, on the firſt of March, Diocletian once more appeared in public, but ſo pale and emaciated, that he could ſcarcely have been recogniſed by thoſe to whom his perſon was the moſt familiar. It was time to put an end to the painful ſtruggle, which he had His pru⯑dence. [173] ſuſtained during more than a year, between the care of his health and that of his dignity. The former required indulgence and relaxation, the latter compelled him to direct, from the bed of ſickneſs, the adminiſtration of a great empire. He reſolved to paſs the remainder of his days in honourable repoſe, to place his glory beyond the reach of fortune, and to relinquiſh the theatre of the world to his younger and more active aſſo⯑ciates ¹⁰⁸.

The ceremony of his abdication was perform⯑ed in a ſpacious plain, about three miles from Nicomedia. The emperor aſcended a lofty throne, and in a ſpeech, full of reaſon and dig⯑nity, declared his intention, both to the people and to the ſoldiers who were aſſembled on this extraordinary occaſion. As ſoon as he had di⯑veſted A. D. 305. May 1. himſelf of the purple, he withdrew from the gazing multitude; and traverſing the city in a covered chariot, proceeded, without delay, to the favourite retirement which he had choſen in his native country of Dalmatia. On the ſame Compli⯑ance of Maximi⯑an. day, which was the firſt of May ¹⁰⁹, Maximian, as it had been previouſly concerted, made his reſignation of the Imperial dignity at Milan. [174] Even in the ſplendour of the Roman triumph, Diocletian had meditated his deſign of abdicat⯑ing the government. As he wiſhed to ſecure the obedience of Maximian, he exacted from him, either a general aſſurance that he would ſubmit his actions to the authority of his benefactor, or a particular promiſe that he would deſcend from the throne, whenever he ſhould receive the ad⯑vice and the example. This engagement, though it was confirmed by the ſolemnity of an oath before the altar of the Capitoline Jupiter ¹¹⁰, would have proved a feeble reſtraint on the fierce temper of Maximian, whoſe paſſion was the love of power, and who neither deſired preſent tran⯑quillity nor future reputation. But he yielded, however reluctantly, to the aſcendant which his wiſer colleague had acquired over him, and re⯑tired, immediately after his abdication, to a villa in Lucania, where it was almoſt impoſſible that ſuch an impatient ſpirit could find any laſting tranquillity.

Diocletian, who, from a ſervile origin, had Retire⯑ment of Diocletian at Salona. raiſed himſelf to the throne, paſſed the nine laſt years of his life in a private condition. Reaſon had dictated, and content ſeems to have accom⯑panied, his retreat, in which he enjoyed for a long time the reſpect of thoſe princes to whom he had reſigned the poſſeſſion of the world ¹¹¹. [175] It is ſeldom that minds, long exerciſed in buſi⯑neſs, have formed any habits of converſing with themſelves, and in the loſs of power they prin⯑cipally regret the want of occupation. The amuſements of letters and of devotion, which afford ſo many reſources in ſolitude, were inca⯑pable of fixing the attention of Diocletian; but he had preſerved, or at leaſt he ſoon recovered, a taſte for the moſt innocent as well as natural pleaſures, and his leiſure hours were ſufficiently employed in building, planting, and gardening. His anſwer to Maximian is deſervedly celebrated. He was ſolicited by that reſtleſs old man to re⯑aſſume His phi⯑loſophy, the reins of government, and the Imperial purple. He rejected the temptation with a ſmile of pity, calmly obſerving, that if he could ſhew Maximian the cabbages which he had planted with his own hands at Salona, he ſhould no longer be urged to relinquiſh the enjoyment of happineſs for the purſuit of power ¹¹². In his converſations with his friends, he frequently acknowledged, that of all arts, the moſt difficult was the art of reigning; and he expreſſed him⯑ſelf on that favourite topic with a degree of warmth which could be the reſult only of ex⯑perience. ‘How often, was he accuſtomed to ſay, is it the intereſt of four or five miniſters to combine together to deceive their ſove⯑reign! [176] Secluded from mankind by his exalted dignity, the truth is concealed from his know⯑ledge; he can ſee only with their eyes, he hears nothing but their miſrepreſentations. He confers the moſt important offices upon vice and weakneſs, and diſgraces the moſt virtuous and deſerving among his ſubjects. By ſuch infamous arts, added Diocletian, the beſt and wiſeſt princes are ſold to the venal corruption of their courtiers ¹¹³.’ A juſt eſtimate of greatneſs, and the aſſurance of im⯑mortal fame, improve our reliſh for the plea⯑ſures of retirement; but the Roman emperor had filled too important a character in the world, to enjoy without alloy the comforts and ſecurity of a private condition. It was impoſſible that he could remain ignorant of the troubles which afflicted the empire after his abdication. It was impoſſible that he could be indifferent to their conſequences. Fear, ſorrow, and diſcontent, ſometimes purſued him into the ſolitude of Sa⯑lona. His tenderneſs, or at leaſt his pride, was deeply wounded by the misfortunes of his wife and daughter; and the laſt moments of Diocle⯑tian were embittered by ſome affronts, which Licinius and Conſtantine might have ſpared the father of ſo many emperors, and the firſt author of their own fortune. A report, though of a very and death. A. D. 313. doubtful nature, has reached our times, that he [177] prudently withdrew himſelf from their power by a voluntary death ¹¹⁴.

Before we diſmiſs the conſideration of the life Deſcrip⯑tion of Sa⯑lona and the adja⯑cent coun⯑try. and character of Diocletian, we may, for a mo⯑ment, direct our view to the place of his retire⯑ment. Salona, a principal city of his native province of Dalmatia, was near two hundred Roman miles (according to the meaſurement of the public highways) from Aquileia and the con⯑fines of Italy, and about two hundred and ſeventy from Sirmium, the uſual reſidence of the empe⯑rors whenever they viſited the Illyrian frontier ¹¹⁵. A miſerable village ſtill preſerves the name of Salona; but ſo late as the ſixteenth century, the remains of a theatre, and a confuſed proſpect of broken arches and marble columns, continued to atteſt its ancient ſplendour ¹¹⁶. About ſix or ſeven miles from the city, Diocletian conſtructed a magnificent palace, and we may infer, from the greatneſs of the work, how long he had meditated his deſign of abdicating the empire. The choice of a ſpot which united all that could contribute either to health or to luxury, did not [178] require the partiality of a native. ‘The ſoil was dry and fertile, the air is pure and whole⯑ſome, and though extremely hot during the ſummer months, this country ſeldom feels thoſe ſultry and noxious winds, to which the coaſts of Iſtria and ſome parts of Italy are ex⯑poſed. The views from the palace are no leſs beautiful than the ſoil and climate were in⯑viting. Towards the weſt lies the fertile ſhore that ſtretches along the Hadriatic, in which a number of ſmall iſlands are ſcattered in ſuch a manner, as to give this part of the ſea the appearance of a great lake. On the north ſide lies the bay, which led to the ancient city of Salona; and the country beyond it, appearing in ſight, forms a proper contraſt to that more extenſive proſpect of water, which the Hadriatic preſents both to the ſouth and to the eaſt. Towards the north, the view is ter⯑minated by high and irregular mountains, ſituated at a proper diſtance, and, in many places, covered with villages, woods, and vine⯑yards ¹¹⁷.’

[179] Though Conſtantine, from a very obvious pre⯑judice, affects to mention the palace of Diocle⯑tian with contempt ¹¹⁸, yet one of their ſuc⯑ceſſors, Of Diocle⯑tian's pa⯑lace. who could only ſee it in a neglected and mutilated ſtate, celebrates its magnificence in terms of the higheſt admiration ¹¹⁹. It covered an extent of ground conſiſting of between nine and ten Engliſh acres. The form was quadran⯑gular, flanked with ſixteen towers. Two of the ſides were near ſix hundred, and the other two near ſeven hundred feet in length. The whole was conſtructed of a beautiful free-ſtone, extract⯑ed from the neighbouring quarries of Trau or Tragutium, and very little inferior to marble itſelf. Four ſtreets, interſecting each other at right angles, divided the ſeveral parts of this great edifice, and the approach to the principal apartment was from a very ſtately entrance, which is ſtill denominated the Golden Gate. The ap⯑proach was terminated by a periſtylium of granite columns, on one ſide of which we diſcover the ſquare temple of Aeſculapius, on the other the octagon temple of Jupiter. The latter of thoſe deities Diocletian revered as the patron of his fortunes, the former as the protector of his health. By comparing the preſent remains with the pre⯑cepts of Vitruvius, the ſeveral parts of the build⯑ing, the baths, bedchamber, the atrium, the baſi⯑lica, and the Cyzicene, Corinthian, and Egyp⯑tian [180] halls, have been deſcribed with ſome degree of preciſion, or at leaſt of probability. Their forms were various, their proportions juſt, but they were all attended with two imperfections, very repugnant to our modern notions of taſte and conveniency. Theſe ſtately rooms had neither windows nor chimnies. They were light⯑ed from the top (for the building ſeems to have conſiſted of no more than one ſtory), and they received their heat by the help of pipes that were conveyed along the walls. The range of principal apartments was protected towards the ſouth-weſt, by a portico of five hundred and ſeventeen feet long, which muſt have formed a very noble and delightful walk, when the beau⯑ties of painting and ſculpture were added to thoſe of the proſpect.

Had this magnificent edifice remained in a ſoli⯑tary country, it would have been expoſed to the ravages of time; but it might, perhaps, have eſcaped the rapacious induſtry of man. The village of Aſpalathus ¹²⁰, and long afterwards the provincial town of Spalatro, have grown out of its ruins. The golden gate now opens into the market-place. St. John the Baptiſt has uſurped the honours of Aeſculapius: and the temple of Jupiter, under the protection of the Virgin, is converted into the cathedral church. For this account of Diocletian's palace, we are principally indebted to an ingenious artiſt of our own time and country, whom a very liberal curioſity car⯑ried [181] into the heart of Dalmatia ¹²¹. But there is room to ſuſpect, that the elegance of his deſigns and engraving has ſomewhat flattered the objects which it was their purpoſe to repreſent. We Decline of the arts. are informed by a more recent and very judi⯑cious traveller, that the awful ruins of Spalatro are not leſs expreſſive of the decline of the arts, than of the greatneſs of the Roman empire in the time of Diocletian ¹²². If ſuch was indeed the ſtate of architecture, we muſt naturally be⯑lieve that painting and ſculpture had experienced a ſtill more ſenſible decay. The practice of architecture is directed by a few general and even mechanical rules. But ſculpture, and above all, painting, propoſe to themſelves the imitation not only of the forms of nature, but of the cha⯑racters and paſſions of the human ſoul. In thoſe ſublime arts, the dexterity of the hand is of lit⯑tle avail, unleſs it is animated by fancy, and guided by the moſt correct taſte and obſerva⯑tion.

It is almoſt unneceſſary to remark, that the Of letters. civil diſtractions of the empire, the licence of the ſoldiers, the inroads of the barbarians, and [182] the progreſs of deſpotiſm, had proved very un⯑favourable to genius, and even to learning. The ſucceſſion of Illyrian princes reſtored the empire, without reſtoring the ſciences. Their military education was not calculated to inſpire them with the love of letters; and even the mind of Diocletian, however active and capacious in buſineſs, was totally uninformed by ſtudy or ſpe⯑culation. The profeſſions of law and phyſic are of ſuch common uſe and certain profit, that they will always ſecure a ſufficient number of prac⯑titioners, endowed with a reaſonable degree of abilities and knowledge; but it does not appear that the ſtudents in thoſe two faculties appeal to any celebrated maſters who have flouriſhed within that period. The voice of poetry was ſilent. Hiſtory was reduced to dry and confuſed abridg⯑ments, alike deſtitute of amuſement and inſtruc⯑tion. A languid and affected eloquence was ſtill retained in the pay and ſervice of the em⯑perors, who encouraged not any arts except thoſe which contributed to the gratification of their pride, or the defence of their power ¹²³.

The declining age of learning and of mankind is marked, however, by the riſe and rapid pro⯑greſs The new Platoniſts. of the new Platoniſts. The ſchool of [183] Alexandria ſilenced thoſe of Athens; and the ancient ſects enrolled themſelves under the ban⯑ners of the more faſhionable teachers, who re⯑commended their ſyſtem by the novelty of their method, and the auſterity of their manners. Several of theſe maſters, Ammonius, Plotinus, Amelius, and Porphyry ¹²⁴, were men of pro⯑found thought, and intenſe application; but by miſtaking the true object of philoſophy, their labours contributed much leſs to improve than to corrupt the human underſtanding. The know⯑ledge that is ſuited to our ſituation and powers, the whole compaſs of moral, natural, and ma⯑thematical ſcience, was neglected by the new Platoniſts; whilſt they exhauſted their ſtrength in the verbal diſputes of metaphyſics, attempted to explore the ſecrets of the inviſible world, and ſtudied to reconcile Ariſtotle with Plato, on ſub⯑jects of which both theſe philoſophers were as ignorant as the reſt of mankind. Conſuming their reaſon in theſe deep but unſubſtantial me⯑ditations, their minds were expoſed to illuſions of fancy. They flattered themſelves that they poſſeſſed the ſecret of diſengaging the ſoul from its corporeal priſon; claimed a familiar inter⯑courſe with daemons and ſpirits; and, by a very ſingular revolution, converted the ſtudy of phi⯑loſophy into that of magic. The ancient ſages [184] had derided the popular ſuperſtition; after diſ⯑guiſing its extravagance by the thin pretence of allegory, the diſciples of Plotinus and Porphyry became its moſt zealous defenders. As they agreed with the Chriſtians in a few myſterious points of faith, they attacked the remainder of their theological ſyſtem with all the fury of civil war. The new Platoniſts would ſcarcely deſerve a place in the hiſtory of ſcience, but in that of the church the mention of them will very fre⯑quently occur.

CHAP. XIV. Troubles after the Abdication of Diocletian.—Death of Conſtantius.—Elevation of Conſtantine and Maxentius.—Six Emperors at the ſame Time.—Death of Maximian and Galerius.—Victories of Conſtantine over Maxentius and Licinius.—Re⯑union of the Empire under the Authority of Con⯑ſtantine.

THE balance of power eſtabliſhed by Dio⯑cletian ſubſiſted no longer than while it was ſuſtained by the firm and dexterous hand of Period of civil wars and confu⯑ſion. the founder. It required ſuch a fortunate mix⯑ture of different tempers and abilities, as could ſcarcely be found or even expected a ſecond time; A. D. 305—323. two emperors without jealouſy, two Caeſars with⯑out ambition, and the ſame general intereſt in⯑variably purſued by four independent princes. The abdication of Diocletian and Maximian was ſucceeded by eighteen years of diſcord and con⯑fuſion. The empire was afflicted by five civil wars; and the remainder of the time was not ſo much a ſtate of tranquillity as a ſuſpenſion of arms between ſeveral hoſtile monarchs, who, viewing each other with an eye of fear and hatred, ſtrove to increaſe their reſpective forces at the expence of their ſubjects.

As ſoon as Diocletian and Maximian had re⯑ſigned the purple, their ſtation, according to the Character and ſitua⯑tion of Conſtan⯑tius. rules of the new conſtitution, was filled by the [186] two Caeſars, Conſtantius and Galerius, who im⯑mediately aſſumed the title of Auguſtus ¹. The honours of ſeniority and precedence were allowed to the former of thoſe princes, and he continued, under a new appellation, to adminiſter his ancient department of Gaul, Spain, and Britain. The government of thoſe ample provinces was ſuffi⯑cient to exerciſe his talents, and to ſatisfy his ambition. Clemency, temperance, and mode⯑ration, diſtinguiſhed the amiable character of Conſtantius, and his fortunate ſubjects had fre⯑quently occaſion to compare the virtues of their ſovereign with the paſſions of Maximian, and even with the arts of Diocletian ². Inſtead of imitating their eaſtern pride and magnificence, Conſtantius preſerved the modeſty of a Roman prince. He declared, with unaffected ſincerity, that his moſt valued treaſure was in the hearts of his people, and that, whenever the dignity of the throne, or the danger of the ſtate, required any extraordinary ſupply, he could depend with con⯑fidence on their gratitude and liberality ³. The [187] provincials of Gaul, Spain, and Britain, ſenſible of his worth and of their own happineſs, reflected with anxiety on the declining health of the em⯑peror Conſtantius, and the tender age of his nu⯑merous family, the iſſue of his ſecond marriage with the daughter of Maximian.

The ſtern temper of Galerius was caſt in a very different mould; and while he commanded Of Gale⯑rius. the eſteem of his ſubjects, he ſeldom condeſcended to ſolicit their affections. His fame in arms, and above all, the ſucceſs of the Perſian war, had elated his haughty mind, which was naturally impatient of a ſuperior, or even of an equal. If it were poſſible to rely on the partial teſtimony of an injudicious writer, we might aſcribe the abdication of Diocletian to the menaces of Ga⯑lerius, and relate the particulars of a private con⯑verſation between the two princes, in which the former diſcovered as much puſillanimity as the latter diſplayed ingratitude and arrogance ⁴. But theſe obſcure anecdotes are ſufficiently refuted by an impartial view of the character and conduct of Diocletian. Whatever might otherwiſe have been his intentions, if he had apprehended any [188] danger from the violence of Galerius, his good ſenſe would have inſtructed him to prevent the ignominious conteſt; and as he had held the ſceptre with glory, he would have reſigned it without diſgrace.

After the elevation of Conſtantius and Galerius The two Caeſars, Severus and Max⯑imin. to the rank of Auguſti, two new Caeſars were re⯑quired to ſupply their place, and to complete the ſyſtem of the Imperial government. Dio⯑cletian was ſincerely deſirous of withdrawing him⯑ſelf from the world; he conſidered Galerius, who had married his daughter, as the firmeſt ſupport of his family and of the empire; and he con⯑ſented, without reluctance, that his ſucceſſor ſhould aſſume the merit as well as the envy of the important nomination. It was fixed without conſulting the intereſt or inclination of the princes of the Weſt. Each of them had a ſon who was arrived at the age of manhood, and who might have been deemed the moſt natural candidates for the vacant honour. But the impotent reſent⯑ment of Maximian was no longer to be dreaded; and the moderate Conſtantius, though he might deſpiſe the dangers, was humanely apprehenſive of the calamities of civil war. The two perſons whom Galerius promoted to the rank of Caeſar, were much better ſuited to ſerve the views of his ambition; and their principal recommendation ſeems to have conſiſted in the want of merit or perſonal conſequence. The firſt of theſe was Daza, or, as he was afterwards called, Maximin, whoſe mother was the ſiſter of Galerius. The [189] unexperienced youth ſtill betrayed by his man⯑ners and language his ruſtic education, when, to his own aſtoniſhment as well as that of the world, he was inveſted by Diocletian with the purple, exalted to the dignity of Caeſar, and intruſted with the ſovereign command of Egypt and Syria ⁵. At the ſame time, Severus, a faithful ſervant, addicted to pleaſure, but not incapable of buſi⯑neſs, was ſent to Milan, to receive from the re⯑luctant hands of Maximian the Caeſarean orna⯑ments, and the poſſeſſion of Italy and Africa ⁶. According to the forms of the conſtitution, Se⯑verus acknowledged the ſupremacy of the weſt⯑ern emperor; but he was abſolutely devoted to the commands of his benefactor Galerius, who, reſerving to himſelf the intermediate countries from the confines of Italy to thoſe of Syria, firmly eſtabliſhed his power over three-fourths of the monarchy. In the full confidence, that the approaching death of Conſtantius would leave him ſole maſter of the Roman world, we are aſ⯑ſured that he had arranged in his mind a long ſucceſſion of future princes, and that he medi⯑tated his own retreat from public life, after he ſhould have accompliſhed a glorious reign of about twenty years ⁷.

[190] But within leſs than eighteen months, two un⯑expected revolutions overturned the ambitious ſchemes of Galerius. The hopes of uniting the Ambition of Gale⯑rius diſap⯑pointed by two revo⯑lutions. weſtern provinces to his empire, were diſappoint⯑ed by the elevation of Conſtantine, whilſt Italy and Africa were loſt by the ſucceſsful revolt of Maxentius.

I. The fame of Conſtantine has rendered poſ⯑terity Birth, education, and eſcape of Con⯑ſtantine. A. D. 274. attentive to the moſt minute circumſtances of his life and actions. The place of his birth, as well as the condition of his mother Helena, have been the ſubject not only of literary but of national diſputes. Notwithſtanding the recent tradition, which aſſigns for her father, a Britiſh king, we are obliged to confeſs, that Helena was the daughter of an innkeeper ⁸; but at the ſame time we may defend the legality of her marriage, againſt thoſe who have repreſented her as the concubine of Conſtantius ⁹. The great Conſtan⯑tine was moſt probably born at Naiſſus, in Da⯑cia ¹⁰; [191] and it is not ſurpriſing, that in a family and province diſtinguiſhed only by the profeſſion of arms, the youth ſhould diſcover very little in⯑clination to improve his mind by the acquiſition of knowledge ¹¹. He was about eighteen years A. D. 292. of age when his father was promoted to the rank of Caeſar; but that fortunate event was attended with his mother's divorce; and the ſplendour of an Imperial alliance reduced the ſon of Helena to a ſtate of diſgrace and humiliation. Inſtead of following Conſtantius in the Weſt, he re⯑mained in the ſervice of Diocletian, ſignalized his valour in the wars of Egypt and Perſia, and [192] gradually roſe to the honourable ſtation of a tri⯑bune of the firſt order. The figure of Conſtan⯑tius was tall and majeſtic; he was dexterous in all his exerciſes, intrepid in war, affable in peace; in his whole conduct, the active ſpirit of youth was tempered by habitual prudence; and while his mind was engroſſed by ambition, he appeared cold and inſenſible to the allurements of pleaſure. The favour of the people and ſoldiers, who had named him as a worthy candidate for the rank of Caeſar, ſerved only to exaſperate the jealouſy of Galerius; and though prudence might reſtrain him from exerciſing any open violence, an ab⯑ſolute monarch is ſeldom at a loſs how to execute a ſure and ſecret revenge ¹². Every hour in⯑creaſed the danger of Conſtantine, and the anxiety of his father, who, by repeated letters, expreſſed the warmeſt deſire of embracing his ſon. For ſome time the policy of Galerius ſupplied him with delays and excuſes, but it was impoſſible long to refuſe ſo natural a requeſt of his aſſociate, without maintaining his refuſal by arms. The permiſſion of the journey was reluctantly granted, and whatever precautions the emperor might have taken to intercept a return, the conſequences of which, he, with ſo much reaſon, apprehended, they were effectually diſappointed by the incre⯑dible [193] diligence of Conſtantine ¹³. Leaving the palace of Nicomedia in the night, he travelled poſt through Bithynia, Thrace, Dacia, Panno⯑nia, Italy, and Gaul, and amidſt the joyful ac⯑clamations of the people, reached the port of Boulogne, in the very moment when his father was preparing to embark for Britain ¹⁴.

The Britiſh expedition, and an eaſy victory Death of Conſtan⯑tius, and elevation of Con⯑ſtantine. A. D. 306. July 25. over the barbarians of Caledonia, were the laſt exploits of the reign of Conſtantius. He ended his life in the Imperial palace of York, fifteen months after he had received the title of Au⯑guſtus, and almoſt fourteen years and a half after he had been promoted to the rank of Caeſar. His death was immediately ſucceeded by the ele⯑vation of Conſtantine. The ideas of inheritance and ſucceſſion are ſo very familiar, that the ge⯑nerality of mankind conſider them as founded, not only in reaſon, but in nature itſelf. Our imagination readily transfers the ſame principles from private property to public dominion: and whenever a virtuous father leaves behind him a ſon whoſe merit ſeems to juſtify the eſteem, or even the hopes of the people, the joint influence of prejudice and of affection operates with irre⯑ſiſtible [194] weight. The flower of the weſtern armies had followed Conſtantius into Britain, and the national troops were reinforced by a numerous body of Alemanni, who obeyed the orders of Crocus, one of their hereditary chieftains ¹⁵. The opinion of their own importance, and the aſſu⯑rance that Britain, Gaul, and Spain would ac⯑quieſce in their nomination, were diligently in⯑culcated to the legions by the adherents of Con⯑ſtantine. The ſoldiers were aſked, Whether they could heſitate a moment between the honour of placing at their head the worthy ſon of their beloved emperor, and the ignominy of tamely expecting the arrival of ſome obſcure ſtranger, on whom it might pleaſe the ſovereign of Aſia to beſtow the armies and provinces of the Weſt. It was inſinuated to them, that gratitude and li⯑berality held a diſtinguiſhed place among the virtues of Conſtantine; nor did that artful prince ſhew himſelf to the troops, till they were pre⯑pared to ſalute him with the names of Auguſtus and Emperor. The throne was the object of his deſires; and had he been leſs actuated by ambi⯑tion, it was his only means of ſafety. He was well acquainted with the character and ſentiments of Galerius, and ſufficiently apprized, that if he wiſhed to live he muſt determine to reign. The [195] decent and even obſtinate reſiſtance which he choſe to affect ¹⁶, was contrived to juſtify his uſurpation; nor did he yield to the acclamations of the army, till he had provided the proper ma⯑terials for a letter, which he immediately diſ⯑patched to the emperor of the Eaſt. Conſtantine informed him of the melancholy event of his fa⯑ther's death, modeſtly aſſerted his natural claim to the ſucceſſion, and reſpectfully lamented, that the affectionate violence of his troops had not permitted him to ſolicit the Imperial purple in the regular and conſtitutional manner. The firſt emotions of Galerius were thoſe of ſurpriſe, diſ⯑appointment, and rage; and as he could ſeldom reſtrain his paſſions, he loudly threatened, that he would commit to the flames both the letter and the meſſenger. But his reſentment inſenſibly He is ac⯑knowledg⯑ed by Ga⯑lerius, who gives him only the title of Caeſar, and that of Auguſtus to Severus. ſubſided; and when he recollected the doubtful chance of war, when he had weighed the cha⯑racter and ſtrength of his adverſary, he conſented to embrace the honourable accommodation which the prudence of Conſtantine had left open to him. Without either condemning or ratifying the choice of the Britiſh army, Galerius accepted the ſon of his deceaſed colleague, as the ſovereign of the provinces beyond the Alps; but he gave him only the title of Caeſar, and the fourth rank among the Roman princes, whilſt he conferred the vacant place of Auguſtus on his favourite [196] Severus. The apparent harmony of the empire was ſtill preſerved, and Conſtantine, who already poſſeſſed the ſubſtance, expected, without impa⯑tience, an opportunity of obtaining the honours, of ſupreme power ¹⁷.

The children of Conſtantius by his ſecond marriage were ſix in number, three of either ſex, The bro⯑thers and ſiſters of Conſtan⯑tine. and whoſe Imperial deſcent might have ſolicited a preference over the meaner extraction of the ſon of Helena. But Conſtantine was in the thirty⯑ſecond year of his age, in the full vigour both of mind and body, at the time when the eldeſt of his brothers could not poſſibly be more than thir⯑teen years old. His claim of ſuperior merit had been allowed and ratified by the dying emperor ¹⁸. In his laſt moments, Conſtantius bequeathed to his eldeſt ſon the care of the ſafety as well as greatneſs of the family; conjuring him to aſſume both the authority and the ſentiments of a father with regard to the children of Theodora. Their liberal education, advantageous marriages, the ſecure dignity of their lives, and the firſt honours of the ſtate with which they were inveſted, atteſt the fraternal affection of Conſtantine; and as thoſe princes poſſeſſed a mild and grateful diſpoſition, [197] they ſubmitted without reluctance to the ſupe⯑riority of his genius and fortune ¹⁹.

II. The ambitious ſpirit of Galerius was Diſcontent of the Ro⯑mans at the appre⯑henſion of taxes. ſcarcely reconciled to the diſappointment of his views upon the Gallic provinces, before the un⯑expected loſs of Italy wounded his pride as well as power in a ſtill more ſenſible part. The long abſence of the emperors had filled Rome with diſcontent and indignation; and the people gra⯑dually diſcovered, that the preference given to Nicomedia and Milan, was not to be aſcribed to the particular inclination of Diocletian, but to the permanent form of government which he had inſtituted. It was in vain that, a few months after his abdication, his ſucceſſors dedicated, un⯑der his name, thoſe magnificent baths, whoſe ruins ſtill ſupply the ground as well as the ma⯑terials for ſo many churches and convents ²⁰. The tranquillity of thoſe elegant receſſes of eaſe and luxury was diſturbed by the impatient mur⯑murs of the Romans; and a report was inſenſibly [198] circulated, that the ſums expended in erecting thoſe buildings, would ſoon be required at their hands. About that time the avarice of Galerius, or perhaps the exigencies of the ſtate, had in⯑duced him to make a very ſtrict and rigorous in⯑quiſition into the property of his ſubjects for the purpoſe of a general taxation, both on their lands and on their perſons. A very minute ſurvey ap⯑pears to have been taken of their real eſtates; and wherever there was the ſlighteſt ſuſpicion of concealment, torture was very freely employed to obtain a ſincere declaration of their perſonal wealth ²¹. The privileges which had exalted Italy above the rank of the provinces, were no longer regarded: and the officers of the revenue already began to number the Roman people, and to ſettle the proportion of the new taxes. Even when the ſpirit of freedom had been utterly extinguiſhed, the tameſt ſubjects have ſometimes ventured to reſiſt an unprecedented invaſion of their property; but on this occaſion the injury was aggravated by the inſult, and the ſenſe of private intereſt was quickened by that of national honour. The conqueſt of Macedonia, as we have already ob⯑ſerved, had delivered the Roman people from the weight of perſonal taxes. Though they had experienced every form of deſpotiſm, they had now enjoyed that exemption near five hundred years; nor could they patiently brook the inſo⯑lence of an Illyrian peaſant, who, from his diſtant reſidence in Aſia, preſumed to number Rome [199] among the tributary cities of his empire. The riſing fury of the people was encouraged by the authority, or at leaſt the connivance, of the ſe⯑nate; and the feeble remains of the Praetorian guards, who had reaſon to apprehend their own diſſolution, embraced ſo honourable a pretence, and declared their readineſs to draw their ſwords in the ſervice of their oppreſſed country. It was the wiſh, and it ſoon became the hope, of every citizen, that after expelling from Italy their fo⯑reign tyrants, they ſhould elect a prince who, by the place of his reſidence, and by his maxims of government, might once more deſerve the title of Roman emperor. The name, as well as the ſituation, of Maxentius, determined in his favour the popular enthuſiaſm.

Maxentius was the ſon of the emperor Maxi⯑mian, Maxentius declared emperor at Rome. A. D. 306. 28th Oct. and he had married the daughter of Gale⯑rius. His birth and alliance ſeemed to offer him the faireſt promiſe of ſucceeding to the empire; but his vices and incapacity procured him the ſame excluſion from the dignity of Caeſar, which Conſtantine had deſerved by a dangerous ſupe⯑riority of merit. The policy of Galerius pre⯑ferred ſuch aſſociates, as would never diſgrace the choice, nor diſpute the commands of their benefactor. An obſcure ſtranger was therefore raiſed to the throne of Italy, and the ſon of the late emperor of the Weſt was left to enjoy the luxury of a private fortune in a villa a few miles diſtant from the capital. The gloomy paſſions of his ſoul, ſhame, vexation, and rage were in⯑flamed by envy on the news of Conſtantine's ſuc⯑ceſs; [200] but the hopes of Maxentius revived with the public diſcontent, and he was eaſily perſuaded to unite his perſonal injury and pretenſions with the cauſe of the Roman people. Two Praetorian tribunes and a commiſſary of proviſions under⯑took the management of the conſpiracy; and as every order of men was actuated by the ſame ſpirit, the immediate event was neither doubtful nor difficult. The praefect of the city, and a few magiſtrates, who maintained their fidelity to Se⯑verus, were maſſacred by the guards; and Max⯑entius, inveſted with the Imperial ornaments, was acknowledged by the applauding ſenate and people as the protector of the Roman freedom and dignity. It is uncertain whether Maximian was previouſly acquainted with the conſpiracy; but as ſoon as the ſtandard of rebellion was erect⯑ed at Rome, the old emperor broke from the re⯑tirement Maximian re-aſſumes the purple. where the authority of Diocletian had condemned him to paſs a life of melancholy ſoli⯑tude, and concealed his returning ambition under the diſguiſe of paternal tenderneſs. At the re⯑queſt of his ſon and of the ſenate, he conde⯑ſcended to re-aſſume the purple. His ancient dignity, his experience, and his fame in arms, added ſtrength as well as reputation to the party of Maxentius ²².

[201] According to the advice, or rather the orders, of his colleague, the emperor Severus immedi⯑ately haſtened to Rome, in the full confidence, Defeat and death of Severus. that, by his unexpected celerity, he ſhould eaſily ſuppreſs the tumult of an unwarlike populace, commanded by a licentious youth. But he found on his arrival the gates of the city ſhut againſt him, the walls filled with men and arms, an ex⯑perienced general at the head of the rebels, and his own troops without ſpirit or affection. A large body of Moors deſerted to the enemy, al⯑lured by the promiſe of a large donative; and, if it be true that they had been levied by Maxi⯑mian in his African war, preferring the natural feelings of gratitude to the artificial ties of alle⯑giance. Anulinus, the Praetorian praefect, de⯑clared himſelf in favour of Maxentius, and drew after him the moſt conſiderable part of the troops, accuſtomed to obey his commands. Rome, ac⯑cording to the expreſſion of an orator, recalled her armies; and the unfortunate Severus, deſti⯑tute of force and of counſel, retired, or rather fled, with precipitation to Ravenna. Here he might for ſome time have been ſafe. The for⯑tifications of Ravenna were able to reſiſt the at⯑tempts, and the moraſſes that ſurrounded the town were ſufficient to prevent the approach, of the Italian army. The ſea, which Severus com⯑manded with a powerful fleet, ſecured him an inexhauſtible ſupply of proviſions, and gave a free entrance to the legions, which, on the return of ſpring, would advance to his aſſiſtance from [202] Illyricum and the Eaſt. Maximian, who con⯑ducted the ſiege in perſon, was ſoon convinced that he might waſte his time and his army in the fruitleſs enterpriſe, and that he had nothing to hope either from force or famine. With an art more ſuitable to the character of Diocletian than to his own, he directed his attack, not ſo much againſt the walls of Ravenna, as againſt the mind of Severus. The treachery which he had expe⯑rienced, diſpoſed that unhappy prince to diſtruſt the moſt ſincere of his friends and adherents. The emiſſaries of Maximian eaſily perſuaded his credulity, that a conſpiracy was formed to betray the town, and prevailed upon his fears not to ex⯑poſe himſelf to the diſcretion of an irritated con⯑queror, but to accept the faith of an honourable capitulation. He was at firſt received with hu⯑manity, and treated with reſpect. Maximian conducted the captive emperor to Rome, and gave him the moſt ſolemn aſſurances that he had ſecured his life by the reſignation of the purple. But Severus could obtain only an eaſy death and an Imperial funeral. When the ſentence was A. D. 307. February. ſigned to him, the manner of executing it was left to his own choice; he preferred the favourite mode of the ancients, that of opening his veins: and as ſoon as he expired, his body was carried to the ſepulchre which had been conſtructed for the family of Gallienus ²³.

[203] Though the characters of Conſtantine and Maxentius had very little affinity with each other, their ſituation and intereſt were the ſame; and Maximian gives his daughter Fauſta, and the title of Auguſtus, to Con⯑ſtantine. A. D. 307. March 31. prudence ſeemed to require that they ſhould unite their forces againſt the common enemy. Not⯑withſtanding the ſuperiority of his age and dig⯑nity, the indefatigable Maximian paſſed the Alps, and courting a perſonal interview with the ſove⯑reign of Gaul, carried with him his daughter Fauſta as the pledge of the new alliance. The marriage was celebrated at Arles with every cir⯑cumſtance of magnificence; and the ancient col⯑league of Diocletian, who again aſſerted his claim to the weſtern empire, conferred on his ſon-in⯑law and ally the title of Auguſtus. By conſent⯑ing to receive that honour from Maximian, Con⯑ſtantine ſeemed to embrace the cauſe of Rome and of the ſenate; but his profeſſions were am⯑biguous, and his aſſiſtance ſlow and ineffectual. He conſidered with attention the approaching conteſt between the maſters of Italy and the em⯑peror of the Eaſt, and was prepared to conſult his own ſafety or ambition in the event of the war ²⁴.

The importance of the occaſion called for the Galerius invades Italy. preſence and abilities of Galerius. At the head of a powerful army collected from Illyricum and the Eaſt, he entered Italy, reſolved to revenge the death of Severus, and to chaſtiſe the rebel⯑lious [204] Romans; or, as he expreſſed his intentions, in the furious language of a barbarian, to extir⯑pate the ſenate, and to deſtroy the people by the ſword. But the ſkill of Maximian had concerted a prudent ſyſtem of defence. The invader found every place hoſtile, fortified, and inacceſſible; and though he forced his way as far as Narni, within ſixty miles of Rome, his dominion in Italy was confined to the narrow limits of his camp. Senſible of the increaſing difficulties of his enter⯑priſe, the haughty Galerius made the firſt ad⯑vances towards a reconciliation, and diſpatched two of his moſt conſiderable officers to tempt the Roman princes by the offer of a conference and the declaration of his paternal regard for Maxen⯑tius, who might obtain much more from his liberality than he could hope from the doubtful chance of war ²⁵. The offers of Galerius were rejected with firmneſs, his perfidious friendſhip refuſed with contempt, and it was not long be⯑fore he diſcovered, that, unleſs he provided for his ſafety by a timely retreat, he had ſome reaſon to apprehend the fate of Severus. The wealth, which the Romans defended againſt his rapacious tyranny, they freely contributed for his deſtruc⯑tion. The name of Maximian, the popular arts of his ſon, the ſecret diſtribution of large ſums, and the promiſe of ſtill more liberal rewards, [205] checked the ardour, and corrupted the fidelity of the Illyrian legions; and when Galerius at length gave the ſignal of the retreat, it was with ſome difficulty that he could prevail on his ve⯑terans not to deſert a banner which had ſo often conducted them to victory and honour. A con⯑temporary writer aſſigns two other cauſes for the failure of the expedition; but they are both of ſuch a nature, that a cautious hiſtorian will ſcarcely venture to adopt them. We are told that Galerius, who had formed a very imperfect notion of the greatneſs of Rome by the cities of the Eaſt, with which he was acquainted, found his forces inadequate to the ſiege of that immenſe capital. But the extent of a city ſerves only to render it more acceſſible to the enemy; Rome had long ſince been accuſtomed to ſubmit on the approach of a conqueror; nor could the tempo⯑rary enthuſiaſm of the people have long con⯑tended againſt the diſcipline and valour of the legions. We are likewiſe informed, that the le⯑gions themſelves were ſtruck with horror and re⯑morſe, and that thoſe pious ſons of the republic refuſed to violate the ſanctity of their venerable parent ²⁶. But when we recollect with how much eaſe, in the more ancient civil wars, the zeal of party, and the habits of military obedience had converted the native citizens of Rome into her moſt implacable enemies, we ſhall be inclined to [206] diſtruſt this extreme delicacy of ſtrangers and barbarians, who had never beheld Italy, till they entered it in a hoſtile manner. Had they not been reſtrained by motives of a more intereſted nature, they would probably have anſwered Ga⯑lerius in the words of Caeſar's veterans; ‘If our general wiſhes to lead us to the banks of the Tyber, we are prepared to trace out his camp. Whatſoever walls he has determined to level with the ground, our hands are ready to work the engines: nor ſhall we heſitate, ſhould the name of the devoted city be Rome itſelf.’ Theſe are indeed the expreſſions of a poet; but of a poet who has been diſtinguiſhed and even cenſured for his ſtrict adherence to the truth of hiſtory ²⁷.

The legions of Galerius exhibit a very melan⯑choly His re⯑treat. proof of their diſpoſition, by the ravages which they committed in their retreat. They murdered, they raviſhed, they plundered, they drove away the flocks and herds of the Italians, they burnt the villages through which they paſſed, and they endeavoured to deſtroy the country which it had not been in their power to ſubdue. During the whole march, Maxentius hung on their rear, but he very prudently declined a ge⯑neral engagement with thoſe brave and deſperate [207] veterans. His father had undertaken a ſecond journey into Gaul, with the hope of perſuading Conſtantine, who had aſſembled an army on the frontier, to join the purſuit and to complete the victory. But the actions of Conſtantine were guided by reaſon and not by reſentment. He perſiſted in the wiſe reſolution of maintaining a balance of power in the divided empire, and he no longer hated Galerius, when that aſpiring prince had ceaſed to be an object of terror ²³.

The mind of Galerius was the moſt ſuſceptible Elevation of Licinius to the rank of Auguſ⯑tus; of the ſterner paſſions, but it was not however incapable of a ſincere and laſting friendſhip. Li⯑cinius, whoſe manners as well as character were A. D. 307. Nov. 11. not unlike his own, ſeems to have engaged both his affection and eſteem. Their intimacy had commenced in the happier period perhaps of their youth and obſcurity. It had been cemented by the freedom and dangers of a military life; they had advanced, almoſt by equal ſteps, through the ſucceſſive honours of the ſervice; and as ſoon as Galerius was inveſted with the Imperial dig⯑nity, he ſeems to have conceived the deſign of raiſing his companion to the ſame rank with him⯑ſelf. During the ſhort period of his proſperity, he conſidered the rank of Caeſar as unworthy of the age and merit of Licinius, and rather choſe to reſerve for him the place of Conſtantius, and the empire of the Weſt. While the emperor [208] was employed in the Italian war, he intruſted his friend with the defence of the Danube; and im⯑mediately after his return from that unfortunate expedition, he inveſted Licinius with the vacant purple of Severus, reſigning to his immediate command the provinces of Illyricum ²⁹. The and of Maximin. news of his promotion was no ſooner carried into the Eaſt, than Maximin, who governed, or ra⯑ther oppreſſed, the countries of Egypt and Syria, betrayed his envy and diſcontent, diſdained the inferior name of Caeſar, and notwithſtanding the prayers as well as arguments of Galerius, exacted, almoſt by violence, the equal title of Auguſtus ³⁰. For the firſt, and indeed for the laſt time, the Roman world was adminiſtered by ſix emperors. In the Weſt, Conſtantine and Maxentius affected Six empe⯑rors. A. D. 308. to reverence their father Maximian. In the Eaſt, Licinius and Maximin honoured with more real conſideration their benefactor Galerius. The oppoſition of intereſt, and the memory of a re⯑cent war, divided the empire into two great ho⯑ſtile powers; but their mutual fears produced an apparent tranquillity, and even a feigned recon⯑ciliation, [209] till the death of the elder princes, of Maximian, and more particularly of Galerius, gave a new direction to the views and paſſions of their ſurviving aſſociates.

When Maximian had reluctantly abdicated the Misfor⯑tunes of Maximi⯑an. empire, the venal orators of the times applauded his philoſophic moderation. When his ambition excited, or at leaſt encouraged, a civil war, they returned thanks to his generous patriotiſm, and gently cenſured that love of eaſe and retirement which had withdrawn him from the public ſer⯑vice ³¹. But it was impoſſible, that minds like thoſe of Maximian and his ſon, could long poſſeſs in harmony an undivided power. Maxentius conſidered himſelf as the legal ſovereign of Italy, elected by the Roman ſenate and people; nor would he endure the controul of his father, who arrogantly declared, that by his name and abi⯑lities the raſh youth had been eſtabliſhed on the throne. The cauſe was ſolemnly pleaded before the Praetorian guards, and thoſe troops, who dreaded the ſeverity of the old emperor, eſpouſed the party of Maxentius ³². The life and freedom of Maximian were however reſpected, and he re⯑tired from Italy into Illyricum, affecting to la⯑ment his paſt conduct, and ſecretly contriving [210] new miſchiefs. But Galerius, who was well ac⯑quainted with his character, ſoon obliged him to leave his dominions, and the laſt refuge of the diſappointed Maximian was the court of his ſon-in-law Conſtantine ³³. He was received with reſpect by that artful prince, and with the ap⯑pearance of filial tenderneſs by the empreſs Fauſta. That he might remove every ſuſpicion, he re⯑ſigned the Imperial purple a ſecond time ³⁴, pro⯑feſſing himſelf at length convinced of the vanity of greatneſs and ambition. Had he perſevered in this reſolution, he might have ended his life with leſs dignity indeed than in his firſt retire⯑ment, yet, however, with comfort and reputa⯑tion. But the near proſpect of a throne brought back to his remembrance the ſtate from whence he was fallen, and he reſolved, by a deſperate effort, either to reign or to periſh. An incurſion of the Franks had ſummoned Conſtantine, with a part of his army, to the banks of the Rhine; the remainder of the troops were ſtationed in the ſouthern provinces of Gaul, which lay expoſed to the enterpriſes of the Italian emperor, and a conſiderable treaſure was depoſited in the city of Arles. Maximian either craftily invented, or haſtily credited, a vain report of the death of [211] Conſtantine. Without heſitation he aſcended the throne, ſeized the treaſure, and ſcattering it with his accuſtomed profuſion among the ſoldiers, endeavoured to awake in their minds the memory of his ancient dignity and exploits. Before he could eſtabliſh his authority, or finiſh the nego⯑tiation which he appears to have entered into with his ſon Maxentius, the celerity of Conſtan⯑tine defeated all his hopes. On the firſt news of his perfidy and ingratitude, that prince returned by rapid marches from the Rhine to the Saone, embarked on the laſt mentioned river at Chalons, and at Lyons truſting himſelf to the rapidity of the Rhone, arrived at the gates of Arles, with a military force which it was impoſſible for Max⯑imian to reſiſt, and which ſcarcely permitted him to take refuge in the neighbouring city of Mar⯑ſeilles. The narrow neck of land which joined that place to the continent was fortified againſt the beſiegers, whilſt the ſea was open, either for the eſcape of Maximian, or for the ſuccours of Maxentius, if the latter ſhould chuſe to diſguiſe his invaſion of Gaul, under the honourable pre⯑tence of defending a diſtreſſed, or, as he might allege, an injured father. Apprehenſive of the fatal conſequences of delay, Conſtantine gave orders for an immediate aſſault; but the ſcaling⯑ladders were found too ſhort for the height of the walls, and Marſeilles might have ſuſtained as long a ſiege as it formerly did againſt the arms of Caeſar, if the garriſon, conſcious either of their fault or of their danger, had not pur⯑chaſed [212] their pardon by delivering up the city and the perſon of Maximian. A ſecret but irrevo⯑cable ſentence of death was pronounced againſt His death. A. D. 310. February. the uſurper, he obtained only the ſame favour which he had indulged to Severus, and it was publiſhed to the world, that, oppreſſed by the remorſe of his repeated crimes, he ſtrangled him⯑ſelf with his own hands. After he had loſt the aſſiſtance, and diſdained the moderate counſels, of Diocletian, the ſecond period of his active life was a ſeries of public calamities and perſonal mortifications, which were terminated, in about three years, by an ignominious death. He de⯑ſerved his fate; but we ſhould find more reaſon to applaud the humanity of Conſtantine, if he had ſpared an old man, the benefactor of his fa⯑ther, and the father of his wife. During the whole of this melancholy tranſaction, it appears that Fauſta ſacrificed the ſentiments of nature to her conjugal duties ³⁵.

The laſt years of Galerius were leſs ſhameful Death of Galerius. A. D. 311. May. and unfortunate; and though he had filled with more glory the ſubordinate ſtation of Caeſar, than the ſuperior rank of Auguſtus, he preſerved, till the moment of his death, the firſt place among the princes of the Roman world. He ſurvived [213] his retreat from Italy about four years, and wiſely relinquiſhing his views of univerſal empire, he devoted the remainder of his life to the enjoy⯑ment of pleaſure, and to the execution of ſome works of public utility, among which we may diſtinguiſh the diſcharging into the Danube the ſuperfluous waters of the lake Pelſo, and the cutting down the immenſe foreſts that encom⯑paſſed it; an operation worthy of a monarch, ſince it gave an extenſive country to the agricul⯑ture of his Pannonian ſubjects ³⁶. His death was occaſioned by a very painful and lingering diſ⯑order. His body, ſwelled by an intemperate courſe of life to an unwieldy corpulence, was co⯑vered with ulcers, and devoured by innumerable ſwarms of thoſe inſects, who have given their name to a moſt loathſome diſeaſe ³⁷; but as Ga⯑lerius had offended a very zealous and powerful party among his ſubjects, his ſufferings, inſtead of exciting their compaſſion, have been cele⯑brated as the viſible effects of divine juſtice ³⁸. [214] He had no ſooner expired in his palace of Nico⯑media, than the two emperors who were indebted for their purple to his favour, began to collect His domi⯑nion ſhared between Maximin and Lici⯑nius. their forces, with the intention either of diſput⯑ing, or of dividing, the dominions which he had left without a maſter. They were perſuaded however to deſiſt from the former deſign, and to agree in the latter. The provinces of Aſia fell to the ſhare of Maximin, and thoſe of Europe augmented the portion of Licinius. The Helle⯑ſpont and the Thracian Boſphorus formed their mutual boundary, and the banks of thoſe narrow ſeas, which flowed in the midſt of the Roman world, were covered with ſoldiers, with arms, and with fortifications. The deaths of Maximian and of Galerius reduced the number of emperors to four. The ſenſe of their true intereſt ſoon connected Licinius and Conſtantine; a ſecret al⯑liance was concluded between Maximin and Maxentius, and their unhappy ſubjects expected with terror the bloody conſequences of their in⯑evitable diſſenſions, which were no longer re⯑ſtrained by the fear or the reſpect which they had entertained for Galerius ³⁹.

Among ſo many crimes and misfortunes occa⯑ſioned Admini⯑ſtration of Conſtan⯑tine in Gaul. A. D. 306—312. by the paſſions of the Roman princes, there is ſome pleaſure in diſcovering a ſingle [215] action which may be aſcribed to their virtue. In the ſixth year of his reign, Conſtantine viſited the city of Autun, and generouſly remitted the arrears of tribute, reducing at the ſame time the proportion of their aſſeſſment, from twenty-five to eighteen thouſand heads, ſubject to the real and perſonal capitation ⁴⁰. Yet even this indul⯑gence affords the moſt unqueſtionable proof of the public miſery. This tax was ſo extremely oppreſſive, either in itſelf or in the mode of col⯑lecting it, that whilſt the revenue was increaſed by extortion, it was diminiſhed by deſpair: a conſiderable part of the territory of Autun was left uncultivated; and great numbers of the pro⯑vincials rather choſe to live as exiles and outlaws, than to ſupport the weight of civil ſociety. It is but too probable, that the bountiful emperor relieved, by a partial act of liberality, one among the many evils which he had cauſed by his ge⯑neral maxims of adminiſtration. But even thoſe maxims were leſs the effect of choice than of ne⯑ceſſity. And if we except the death of Maxi⯑mian, the reign of Conſtantine in Gaul ſeems to have been the moſt innocent and even virtuous period of his life. The provinces were protected by his preſence from the inroads of the barba⯑rians, who either dreaded or experienced his ac⯑tive valour. After a ſignal victory over the Franks and Alemanni, ſeveral of their princes [216] were expoſed by his order to the wild beaſts in the amphitheatre of Treves, and the people ſeem to have enjoyed the ſpectacle, without diſcover⯑ing, in ſuch a treatment of royal captives, any thing that was repugnant to the laws of nations or of humanity ⁴¹.

The virtues of Conſtantine were rendered more Tyranny of Maxen⯑tius in Italy and Africa. A. D. 306—312. illuſtrious by the vices of Maxentius. Whilſt the Gallic provinces enjoyed as much happineſs as the condition of the times was capable of re⯑ceiving, Italy and Africa groaned under the do⯑minion of a tyrant as contemptible as he was odious. The zeal of flattery and faction has in⯑deed too frequently ſacrificed the reputation of the vanquiſhed to the glory of their ſucceſsful rivals; but even thoſe writers who have revealed, with the moſt freedom and pleaſure, the faults of Conſtantine, unanimouſly confeſs, that Maxen⯑tius was cruel, rapacious, and profligate ⁴². He had the good fortune to ſuppreſs a ſlight rebel⯑lion in Africa. The governor and a few adhe⯑rents had been guilty; the province ſuffered for their crime. The flouriſhing cities of Cirtha and Carthage, and the whole extent of that fertile country, were waſted by fire and ſword. The abuſe of victory was followed by the abuſe of law and juſtice. A formidable army of ſycophants [217] and delators invaded Africa; the rich and the noble were eaſily convicted of a connexion with the rebels; and thoſe among them who experi⯑enced the emperor's clemency, were only pu⯑niſhed by the confiſcation of their eſtates ⁴³. So ſignal a victory was celebrated by a magnificent triumph, and Maxentius expoſed to the eyes of the people the ſpoils and captives of a Roman province. The ſtate of the capital was no leſs deſerving of compaſſion than that of Africa. The wealth of Rome ſupplied an inexhauſtible fund for his vain and prodigal expences, and the miniſters of his revenue were ſkilled in the arts of rapine. It was under his reign that the method of exacting a free gift from the ſenators was firſt invented; and as the ſum was inſenſibly increaſed, the pretences of levying it, a victory, a birth, a marriage, or an Imperial conſulſhip, were pro⯑portionably multiplied ⁴⁴. Maxentius had im⯑bibed the ſame implacable averſion to the ſenate, which had characterized moſt of the former ty⯑rants of Rome: nor was it poſſible for his un⯑grateful temper to forgive the generous fidelity which had raiſed him to the throne, and ſup⯑ported him againſt all his enemies. The lives of the ſenators were expoſed to his jealous ſuſpi⯑cions, the diſhonour of their wives and daughters heightened the gratification of his ſenſual paſ⯑ſions ⁴⁵. [218] It may be preſumed, that an Imperial lover was ſeldom reduced to ſigh in vain; but whenever perſuaſion proved ineffectual, he had recourſe to violence; and there remains one me⯑morable example of a noble matron, who pre⯑ſerved her chaſtity by a voluntary death. The ſoldiers were the only order of men whom he ap⯑peared to reſpect, or ſtudied to pleaſe. He filled Rome and Italy with armed troops, connived at their tumults, ſuffered them with impunity to plunder, and even to maſſacre, the defenceleſs people ⁴⁶; and indulging them in the ſame licen⯑tiouſneſs which their emperor enjoyed, Maxen⯑tius often beſtowed on his military favourites the ſplendid villa, or the beautiful wife, of a ſena⯑tor. A prince of ſuch a character, alike inca⯑pable of governing either in peace or in war, might purchaſe the ſupport, but he could never obtain the eſteem, of the army. Yet his pride was equal to his other vices. Whilſt he paſſed his indolent life, either within the walls of his palace, or in the neighbouring gardens of Sal⯑luſt, he was repeatedly heard to declare, that he alone was emperor, and that the other princes were no more than his lieutenants, on whom he [219] had devolved the defence of the frontier pro⯑vinces, that he might enjoy without interruption the elegant luxury of the capital. Rome, which had ſo long regretted the abſence, lamented, dur⯑ing the ſix years of his reign, the preſence of her ſovereign ⁴⁷.

Though Conſtantine might view the conduct Civil war between Conſtan⯑tine and Maxen⯑tius. A. D. 312. of Maxentius with abhorrence, and the ſituation of the Romans with compaſſion, we have no reaſon to preſume that he would have taken up arms to puniſh the one, or to relieve the other. But the tyrant of Italy raſhly ventured to pro⯑voke a formidable enemy, whoſe ambition had been hitherto reſtrained by conſiderations of pru⯑dence, rather than by principles of juſtice ⁴⁸. After the death of Maximian, his titles, accord⯑ing to the eſtabliſhed cuſtom, had been eraſed, and his ſtatues thrown down with ignominy. His ſon, who had perſecuted and deſerted him when alive, affected to diſplay the moſt pious regard for his memory, and gave orders that a ſimilar treatment ſhould be immediately inflicted on all the ſtatues that had been erected in Italy and Africa to the honour of Conſtantine. That wiſe prince, who ſincerely wiſhed to decline a war, with the difficulty and importance of which [220] he was ſufficiently acquainted, at firſt diſſembled the inſult, and ſought for redreſs by the milder expedients of negotiation, till he was convinced, that the hoſtile and ambitious deſigns of the Italian emperor made it neceſſary for him to arm in his own defence. Maxentius, who openly avowed his pretenſions to the whole monarchy of the Weſt, had already prepared a very conſider⯑able force to invade the Gallic provinces on the ſide of Rhaetia; and though he could not expect any aſſiſtance from Licinius, he was flattered with the hope that the legions of Illyricum, allured by his preſents and promiſes, would deſert the ſtandard of that prince, and unanimouſly declare themſelves his ſoldiers and ſubjects ⁴⁹. Con⯑ſtantine no longer heſitated. He had deliberated with caution, he acted with vigour. He gave a private audience to the ambaſſadors, who, in the name of the ſenate and people, conjured him to deliver Rome from a deteſted tyrant; and, with⯑out regarding the timid remonſtrances of his council, he reſolved to prevent the enemy, and to carry the war into the heart of Italy ⁵⁰.

[221] The enterpriſe was as full of danger as of glory; and the unſucceſsful event of two former invaſions was ſufficient to inſpire the moſt ſerious Prepara⯑tions. apprehenſions. The veteran troops who revered the name of Maximian, had embraced in both thoſe wars the party of his ſon, and were now reſtrained by a ſenſe of honour, as well as of intereſt, from entertaining an idea of a ſecond deſertion. Maxentius, who conſidered the Prae⯑torian guards as the firmeſt defence of his throne, had increaſed them to their ancient eſtabliſh⯑ment; and they compoſed, including the reſt of the Italians who were inliſted into his ſervice, a formidable body of fourſcore thouſand men. Forty thouſand Moors and Carthaginians had been raiſed ſince the reduction of Africa. Even Sicily furniſhed its proportion of troops; and the armies of Maxentius amounted to one hun⯑dred and ſeventy thouſand foot, and eighteen thouſand horſe. The wealth of Italy ſupplied the expences of the war; and the adjacent pro⯑vinces were exhauſted, to form immenſe maga⯑zines of corn and every other kind of proviſions. The whole force of Conſtantine conſiſted of ninety thouſand foot and eight thouſand horſe ⁵¹; and as the defence of the Rhine required an ex⯑traordinary attention during the abſence of the emperor, it was not in his power to employ [222] above half his troops in the Italian expedition, unleſs he ſacrificed the public ſafety to his pri⯑vate quarrel ⁵². At the head of about forty thouſand ſoldiers, he marched to encounter an enemy whoſe numbers were at leaſt four times ſuperior to his own. But the armies of Rome, placed at a ſecure diſtance from danger, were enervated by indulgence and luxury. Habituat⯑ed to the baths and theatres of Rome, they took the field with reluctance, and were chiefly com⯑poſed of veterans who had almoſt forgotten, or of new levies, who had never acquired, the uſe of arms and the practice of war. The hardy legions of Gaul had long defended the frontiers of the empire againſt the barbarians of the North; and in the performance of that laborious ſervice, their valour was exerciſed and their diſcipline confirmed. There appeared the ſame difference between the leaders as between the armies. Caprice or flattery had tempted Maxentius with the hopes of conqueſt; but theſe aſpiring hopes ſoon gave way to the habits of pleaſure and the conſciouſneſs of his inexperience. The intrepid mind of Conſtantine had been trained from his earlieſt youth to war, to action, and to military command.

When Hannibal marched from Gaul into Italy, Conſtan⯑tine paſſes the Alps. he was obliged, firſt, to diſcover, and then to [223] open, a way over mountains and through ſavage nations, that had never yielded a paſſage to a regular army ⁵³. The Alps were then guarded by nature, they are now fortified by art. Cita⯑dels conſtructed with no leſs ſkill than labour and expence, command every avenue into the plain, and on that ſide render Italy almoſt in⯑acceſſible to the enemies of the king of Sardi⯑nia ⁵⁴. But in the courſe of the intermediate period, the generals, who have attempted the paſſage, have ſeldom experienced any difficulty or reſiſtance. In the age of Conſtantine, the peaſants of the mountains were civilized and obedient ſubjects; the country was plentifully ſtocked with proviſions, and the ſtupendous high⯑ways which the Romans had carried over the Alps, opened ſeveral communications between Gaul and Italy ⁵⁵. Conſtantine preferred the road of the Cottian Alps, or, as it is now called, of mount Cenis, and led his troops with ſuch [224] active diligence, that he deſcended into the plain of Piedmont before the court of Maxentius had received any certain intelligence of his departure from the banks of the Rhine. The city of Suſa, however, which is ſituated at the foot of Mount Cenis, was ſurrounded with walls, and provided with a garriſon ſufficiently numerous to check the progreſs of an invader; but the impatience of Conſtantine's troops diſdained the tedious forms of a ſiege. The ſame day that they appeared before Suſa, they applied fire to the gates, and ladders to the walls; and mount⯑ing to the aſſault amidſt a ſhower of ſtones and arrows, they entered the place ſword in hand, and cut in pieces the greateſt part of the gar⯑riſon. The flames were extinguiſhed by the care of Conſtantine, and the remains of Suſa pre⯑ſerved from total deſtruction. About forty miles from thence, a more ſevere conteſt awaited him. A numerous army of Italians was aſſem⯑bled under the lieutenants of Maxentius in the Battle of Turin. plains of Turin. Its principal ſtrength conſiſted in a ſpecies of heavy cavalry, which the Romans, ſince the decline of their diſcipline, had borrow⯑ed from the nations of the Eaſt. The horſes, as well as the men, were clothed in complete armour, the joints of which were artfully adapted to the motions of their bodies. The aſpect of this cavalry was formidable, their weight almoſt irreſiſtible; and as, on this occaſion, their gene⯑rals had drawn them up in a compact column or wedge, with a ſharp point, and with ſpreading [225] flanks, they flattered themſelves that they ſhould eaſily break and trample down the army of Con⯑ſtantine. They might perhaps have ſucceeded in their deſign, had not their experienced ad⯑verſary embraced the ſame method of defence, which in ſimilar circumſtances had been prac⯑tiſed by Aurelian. The ſkilful evolutions of Conſtantine divided and baffled this maſſy co⯑lumn of cavalry. The troops of Maxentius fled in confuſion towards Turin; and as the gates of the city were ſhut againſt them, very few eſcap⯑ed the ſword of the victorious purſuers. By this important ſervice, Turin deſerved to experience the clemency and even favour of the conqueror. He made his entry into the Imperial palace of Milan, and almoſt all the cities of Italy between the Alps and the Po not only acknowledged the power, but embraced with zeal the party, of Conſtantine ⁵⁶.

From Milan to Rome, the Aemilian and Fla⯑minian Siege and battle of Verona. highways offered an eaſy march of about four hundred miles; but though Conſtantine was impatient to encounter the tyrant, he pru⯑dently directed his operations againſt another army of Italians, who, by their ſtrength and poſition, might either oppoſe his progreſs, or, in caſe of a misfortune, might intercept his retreat. Ruricius Pompeianus, a general diſtin⯑guiſhed by his valour and ability, had under his [226] command the city of Verona, and all the troops that were ſtationed in the province of Venetia. As ſoon as he was informed that Conſtantine was advancing towards him, he detached a large body of cavalry, which was defeated in an en⯑gagement near Breſcia, and purſued by the Gallic legions as far as the gates of Verona. The neceſſity, the importance, and the diffi⯑culties of the ſiege of Verona, immediately pre⯑ſented themſelves to the ſagacious mind of Con⯑ſtantine ⁵⁷ The city was acceſſible only by a narrow peninſula towards the weſt, as the other three ſides were ſurrounded by the Adige, a ra⯑pid river which covered the province of Venetia, from whence the beſieged derived an inexhauſti⯑ble ſupply of men and proviſions. It was not without great difficulty, and after ſeveral fruitleſs attempts, that Conſtantine found means to paſs the river at ſome diſtance above the city, and in a place where the torrent was leſs violent. He then encompaſſed Verona with ſtrong lines, puſh⯑ed his attacks with prudent vigour, and repelled a deſperate ſally of Pompeianus. That intrepid general, when he had uſed every means of de⯑fence that the ſtrength of the place or that of the garriſon could afford, ſecretly eſcaped from Ve⯑rona, [227] anxious not for his own but for the pub⯑lic ſafety. With indefatigable diligence he ſoon collected an army ſufficient either to meet Con⯑ſtantine in the field, or to attack him if he ob⯑ſtinately remained within his lines. The em⯑peror, attentive to the motions, and informed of the approach, of ſo formidable an enemy, left a part of his legions to continue the operations of the ſiege, whilſt, at the head of thoſe troops on whoſe valour and fidelity he more particularly depended, he advanced in perſon to engage the general of Maxentius. The army of Gaul was drawn up in two lines, according to the uſual practice of war; but their experienced leader, perceiving that the numbers of the Italians far exceeded his own, ſuddenly changed his diſpoſi⯑tion, and reducing the ſecond, extended the front of his firſt line, to a juſt proportion with that of the enemy. Such evolutions, which only veteran troops can execute without confuſion in a moment of danger, commonly prove deciſive: but as this engagement began towards the cloſe of the day, and was conteſted with great obſti⯑nacy during the whole night, there was leſs room for the conduct of the generals than for the cou⯑rage of the ſoldiers. The return of light diſ⯑played the victory of Conſtantine, and a field of carnage covered with many thouſands of the van⯑quiſhed Italians. Their general Pompeianus was found among the ſlain; Verona immediately ſurrendered at diſcretion, and the garriſon was [228] made priſoners of war ⁵⁸. When the officers of the victorious army congratulated their maſter on this important ſucceſs, they ventured to add ſome reſpectful complaints, of ſuch a nature, however, as the moſt jealous monarchs will liſten to without diſpleaſure. They repreſented to Conſtantine, that, not contented with perform⯑ing all the duties of a commander, he had ex⯑poſed his own perſon with an exceſs of valour which almoſt degenerated into raſhneſs; and they conjured him for the future to pay more regard to the preſervation of a life, in which the ſafety of Rome and of the empire was involved ⁵⁹.

While Conſtantine ſignalized his conduct and Indolence and fears of Maxen⯑tius. valour in the field, the ſovereign of Italy appear⯑ed inſenſible of the calamities and danger of a civil was which raged in the heart of his domi⯑nions. Pleaſure was ſtill the only buſineſs of Maxentius. Concealing, or at leaſt attempting to conceal, from the public knowledge the miſ⯑fortunes of his arms ⁶⁰, he indulged himſelf in a vain confidence, which deferred the remedies of the approaching evil, without deferring the evil itſelf ⁶¹. The rapid progreſs of Conſtan⯑tine ⁶² [229] was ſcarcely ſufficient to awaken him from this fatal ſecurity; he flattered himſelf, that his well-known liberality, and the majeſty of the Roman name, which had already delivered him from two invaſions, would diſſipate with the ſame facility the rebellious army of Gaul. The officers of experience and ability, who had ſerved under the banners of Maximian, were at length compelled to inform his effeminate ſon of the imminent danger to which he was reduced; and, with a freedom that at once ſurpriſed and con⯑vinced him, to urge the neceſſity of preventing his ruin, by a vigorous exertion of his remaining power. The reſources of Maxentius, both of men and money, were ſtill conſiderable. The Praetorian guards felt how ſtrongly their own intereſt and ſafety were connected with his cauſe; and a third army was ſoon collected, more nu⯑merous than thoſe which had been loſt in the battles of Turin and Verona. It was far from the intention of the emperor to lead his troops in perſon. A ſtranger to the exerciſes of war, he trembled at the apprehenſion of ſo dangerous a conteſt; and as fear is commonly ſuperſtitious, he liſtened with melancholy attention to the ru⯑mours of omens and preſages which ſeemed to menace his life and empire. Shame at length ſupplied the place of courage, and forced him to take the field. He was unable to ſuſtain the [230] contempt of the Roman people. The circus reſounded with their indignant clamours, and they tumultuouſly beſieged the gates of the pa⯑lace, reproaching the puſillanimity of their in⯑dolent ſovereign, and celebrating the heroic ſpi⯑rit of Conſtantine ⁶³. Before Maxentius left Rome, he conſulted the Sibylline books. The guardians of theſe ancient oracles were as well verſed in the arts of this world, as they were ignorant of the ſecrets of fate; and they returned him a very prudent anſwer, which might adapt itſelf to the event, and ſecure their reputation whatever ſhould be the chance of arms ⁶⁴.

The celerity of Conſtantine's march has been Victory of Conſtan⯑tine near Rome. A. D. 312. 28th Oct. compared to the rapid conqueſt of Italy by the firſt of the Caeſars; nor is the flattering parallel repugnant to the truth of hiſtory, ſince no more than fifty-eight days elapſed between the ſurren⯑der of Verona and the final deciſion of the war. Conſtantine had always apprehended that the tyrant would conſult the dictates of fear, and perhaps of prudence; and that, inſtead of riſk⯑ing his laſt hopes in a general engagement, he would ſhut himſelf up within the walls of Rome. His ample magazines ſecured him againſt the danger of famine; and as the ſituation of Con⯑ſtantine admitted not of delay, he might have been reduced to the ſad neceſſity of deſtroying with fire and ſword the Imperial city, the nobleſt reward of his victory, and the deliverance of [231] which had been the motive, or rather indeed the pretence, of the civil war ⁶⁵. It was with equal ſurpriſe and pleaſure, that on his arrival at a place called Saxa Rubra, about nine miles from Rome ⁶⁶, he diſcovered the army of Maxentius prepared to give him battle ⁶⁷. Their long front filled a very ſpacious plain, and their deep array reached to the banks of the Tyber, which cover⯑ed their rear, and forbade their retreat. We are informed, and we may believe, that Conſtantine diſpoſed his troops with conſummate ſkill, and that he choſe for himſelf the poſt of honour and danger. Diſtinguiſhed by the ſplendour of his arms, he charged in perſon the cavalry of his rival; and his irreſiſtible attack determined the fortune of the day. The cavalry of Maxentius was principally compoſed either of unwieldy cui⯑raſſiers, or of light Moors and Numidians. They yielded to the vigour of the Gallic horſe, which poſſeſſed more activity than the one, more firmneſs than the other. The defeat of the two wings left the infantry without any protection on [232] its flanks, and the undiſciplined Italians fled without reluctance from the ſtandard of a tyrant whom they had always hated, and whom they no longer feared. The Praetorians, conſcious that their offences were beyond the reach of mercy, were animated by revenge and deſpair. Notwithſtanding their repeated efforts, thoſe brave veterans were unable to recover the vic⯑tory: they obtained, however, an honourable death; and it was obſerved, that their bodies covered the ſame ground which had been occu⯑pied by their ranks ⁶⁸. The confuſion then be⯑came general, and the diſmayed troops of Max⯑entius, purſued by an implacable enemy, ruſhed by thouſands into the deep and rapid ſtream of the Tyber. The emperor himſelf attempted to eſcape back into the city over the Milvian bridge, but the crowds which preſſed together through that narrow paſſage, forced him into the river, where he was immediately drowned by the weight of his armour ⁶⁹. His body, which had ſunk very deep into the mud, was found with ſome [233] difficulty the next day. The ſight of his head, when it was expoſed to the eyes of the people, convinced them of their deliverance, and admo⯑niſhed them to receive, with acclamations of loy⯑alty and gratitude, the fortunate Conſtantine, who thus atchieved by his valour and ability the moſt ſplendid enterpriſe of his life ⁷⁰.

In the uſe of victory, Conſtantine neither de⯑ſerved His recep⯑tion, the praiſe of clemency, nor incurred the cenſure of immoderate rigour ⁷¹. He inflicted the ſame treatment, to which a defeat would have expoſed his own perſon and family, put to death the two ſons of the tyrant, and carefully extir⯑pated his whole race. The moſt diſtinguiſhed adherents of Maxentius muſt have expected to ſhare his fate, as they had ſhared his proſperity and his crimes; but when the Roman people loudly demanded a greater number of victims, the conqueror reſiſted, with firmneſs and huma⯑nity, thoſe ſervile clamours which were dictated by flattery as well as by reſentment. Informers were puniſhed and diſcouraged; the innocent, who had ſuffered under the late tyranny, were recalled from exile, and reſtored to their eſtates. [234] A general act of oblivion quieted the minds and ſettled the property of the people, both in Italy and in Africa ⁷². The firſt time that Conſtantine honoured the ſenate with his preſence, he reca⯑pitulated his own ſervices and exploits in a mo⯑deſt oration, aſſured that illuſtrious order of his ſincere regard, and promiſed to re-eſtabliſh its ancient dignity and privileges. The grateful ſenate repaid theſe unmeaning profeſſions by the empty titles of honour, which it was yet in their power to beſtow; and without preſuming to ratify the authority of Conſtantine, they paſſed a de⯑cree to aſſign him the firſt rank among the three Auguſti who governed the Roman world ⁷³. Games and feſtivals were inſtituted to preſerve the fame of his victory, and ſeveral edifices raiſed at the expence of Maxentius, were dedicated to the honour of his ſucceſsful rival. The triumphal arch of Conſtantine ſtill remains a melancholy proof of the decline of the arts, and a ſingular teſtimony of the meaneſt vanity. As it was not poſſible to find in the capital of the empire, a ſculptor who was capable of adorning that pub⯑lic monument; the arch of Trajan, without any reſpect either for his memory or for the rules of propriety, was ſtripped of its moſt elegant figures. The difference of times and perſons, of actions and characters, was totally diſregarded. The [235] Parthian captives appear proſtrate at the feet of a prince who never carried his arms beyond the Euphrates; and curious antiquarians can ſtill diſcover the head of Trajan on the trophies of Conſtantine. The new ornaments which it was neceſſary to introduce between the vacancies of ancient ſculpture, are executed in the rudeſt and moſt unſkilful manner ⁷⁴.

The final abolition of the Praetorian guards and con⯑duct at Rome. was a meaſure of prudence as well as of revenge. Thoſe haughty troops, whoſe numbers and pri⯑vileges had been reſtored, and even augmented, by Maxentius, were for ever ſuppreſſed by Con⯑ſtantine. Their fortified camp was deſtroyed, and the few Praetorians who had eſcaped the fury of the ſword, were diſperſed among the legions, and baniſhed to the frontiers of the empire, where they might be ſerviceable without again becoming dangerous. ⁷⁵. By ſuppreſſing the troops which were uſually ſtationed in Rome, Conſtantine gave the fatal blow to the dignity of the ſenate and people, and the diſarmed capital was expoſed without protection to the inſults or neglect of its diſtant maſter. We may obſerve, [236] that in this laſt effort to preſerve their expiring freedom, the Romans, from the apprehenſion of a tribute, had raiſed Maxentius to the throne. He exacted that tribute from the ſenate under the name of a free gift. They implored the aſſiſtance of Conſtantine. He vanquiſhed the tyrant, and converted the free gift into a per⯑petual tax. The ſenators, according to the de⯑claration which was required of their property, were divided into ſeveral claſſes. The moſt opulent paid annually eight pounds of gold, the next claſs paid four, the laſt two, and thoſe whoſe poverty might have claimed an exemp⯑tion, were aſſeſſed however at ſeven pieces of gold. Beſides the regular members of the ſe⯑nate, their ſons, their deſcendants, and even their relations, enjoyed the vain privileges, and ſup⯑ported the heavy burdens, of the ſenatorial order; nor will it any longer excite our ſurpriſe, that Con⯑ſtantine ſhould be attentive to increaſe the number of perſons who were included under ſo uſeful a de⯑ſcription ⁷⁶. After the defeat of Maxentius, the victorious emperor paſſed no more than two or three months in Rome, which he viſited twice during the remainder of his life, to celebrate the ſolemn feſtivals of the tenth and of the twen⯑tieth years of his reign. Conſtantine was almoſt [237] perpetually in motion to exerciſe the legions, or to inſpect the ſtate of the provinces. Treves, Milan, Aquileia, Sirmium, Naiſſus, and Theſ⯑ſalonica, were the occaſional places of his reſi⯑dence, till he founded a NEW ROME on the con⯑fines of Europe and Aſia ⁷⁷.

Before Conſtantine marched into Italy, he had His alli⯑ance with Licinius. A. D. 313. March. ſecured the friendſhip, or at leaſt the neutrality, of Licinius, the Illyrian emperor. He had pro⯑miſed his ſiſter Conſtantia in marriage to that prince; but the celebration of the nuptials was deferred till after the concluſion of the war, and the interview of the two emperors at Milan, which was appointed for that purpoſe, appeared to cement the union of their families and inte⯑reſts ⁷⁸. In the midſt of the public feſtivity they were ſuddenly obliged to take leave of each other. An inroad of the Franks ſummoned Conſtantine to the Rhine, and the hoſtile ap⯑proach of the ſovereign of Aſia demanded the immediate preſence of Licinius. Maximin had War be⯑tween Maximin and Lici⯑nius. A. D. 313. been the ſecret ally of Maxentius, and without being diſcouraged by his fate, he reſolved to try the fortune of a civil war. He moved out of Syria towards the frontiers of Bythynia in [238] the depth of winter. The ſeaſon was ſevere and tempeſtuous; great numbers of men as well as horſes periſhed in the ſnow; and as the roads were broken up by inceſſant rains, he was oblig⯑ed to leave behind him a conſiderable part of the heavy baggage, which was unable to follow the rapidity of his forced marches. By this extra⯑ordinary effort of diligence, he arrived, with a haraſſed but formidable army, on the banks of the Thracian Boſphorus, before the lieutenants of Licinius were appriſed of his hoſtile inten⯑tions. Byzantium ſurrendered to the power of Maximin, after a ſiege of eleven days. He was detained ſome days under the walls of Heraclea; and he had no ſooner taken poſſeſſion of that city, than he was alarmed by the intelligence, that Licinius had pitched his camp at the diſtance of only eighteen miles. After a fruitleſs nego⯑ciation, The de⯑feat, April 30, in which the two princes attempted to ſeduce the fidelity of each other's adherents, they had recourſe to arms. The emperor of the Eaſt commanded a diſciplined and veteran army of above ſeventy thouſand men, and Licinius, who had collected about thirty thouſand Illyrians, was at firſt oppreſſed by the ſuperiority of num⯑bers. His military ſkill, and the firmneſs of his troops, reſtored the day, and obtained a deciſive victory. The incredible ſpeed which Maximin exerted in his flight, is much more celebrated than his proweſs in the battle. Twenty-four hours afterwards he was ſeen pale, trembling, and without his Imperial ornaments, at Nico⯑media, one hundred and ſixty miles from the [239] place of his defeat. The wealth of Aſia was yet unexhauſted; and though the flower of his vete⯑rans had fallen in the late action, he had ſtill power, if he could obtain time, to draw very numerous levies from Syria and Egypt. But he and death of the for⯑mer. Auguſt. ſurvived his misfortune only three or four months. His death, which happened at Tarſus, was vari⯑ouſly aſcribed to deſpair, to poiſon, and to the divine juſtice. As Maximin was alike deſtitute of abilities and of virtue, he was lamented nei⯑ther by the people nor by the ſoldiers. The provinces of the Eaſt, delivered from the terrors of civil war, cheerfully acknowledged the autho⯑rity of Licinius ⁷⁹.

The vanquiſhed emperor left behind him two Cruelty of Lici⯑nius. children, a boy of about eight, and a girl of about ſeven, years old. Their inoffenſive age might have excited compaſſion; but the com⯑paſſion of Licinius was a very feeble reſource, nor did it reſtrain him from extinguiſhing the name and memory of his adverſary. The death of Severianus will admit of leſs excuſe, as it was dictated neither by revenge nor by policy. The conqueror had never received any injury from the father of that unhappy youth, and the ſhort and obſcure reign of Severus in a diſtant part of the empire was already forgotten. But the exe⯑cution of Candidianus was an act of the blackeſt cruelty and ingratitude. He was the natural ſon [240] of Galerius, the friend and benefactor of Lici⯑nius. The prudent father had judged him too young to ſuſtain the weight of a diadem; but he hoped that under the protection of princes, who were indebted to his favour for the Imperial purple, Candidianus might paſs a ſecure and honourable life. He was now advancing towards the twentieth year of his age, and the royalty of his birth, though unſupported either by merit or ambition, was ſufficient to exaſperate the jea⯑lous mind of Licinius ⁸⁰. To theſe innocent and illuſtrious victims of his tyranny, we muſt add the wife and daughter of the emperor Diocletian. When that prince conferred on Galerius the title of Caeſar, he had given him in marriage his daughter Valeria, whoſe melancholy adventures might furniſh a very ſingular ſubject for tragedy. She had fulfilled and even ſurpaſſed the duties of Unfortu⯑nate fate of the empreſs Valeria and her mo⯑ther. a wife. As ſhe had not any children herſelf, ſhe condeſcended to adopt the illegitimate ſon of her huſband, and invariably diſplayed towards the unhappy Candidianus the tenderneſs and anxiety of a real mother. After the death of Galerius, her ample poſſeſſions provoked the avarice, and her perſonal attractions excited the deſires, of his ſucceſſor Maximin ⁸¹. He had a wife ſtill alive, [241] but divorce was permitted by the Roman law, and the fierce paſſions of the tyrant demanded an immediate gratification. The anſwer of Va⯑leria was ſuch as became the daughter and widow of emperors; but it was tempered by the pru⯑dence which her defenceleſs condition compelled her to obſerve. She repreſented to the perſons whom Maximin had employed on this occaſion, that even if honour could permit a woman of her character and dignity to entertain a thought of ſecond nuptials, decency at leaſt muſt for⯑bid her to liſten to his addreſſes at a time when the aſhes of her huſband and his bene⯑factor were ſtill warm; and while the ſorrows of her mind were ſtill expreſſed by her mourn⯑ing garments. She ventured to declare, that ſhe could place very little confidence in the profeſſions of a man, whoſe cruel inconſtancy was capable of repudiating a faithful and affec⯑tionate wife ⁸². On this repulſe, the love of Maximin was converted into fury, and as wit⯑neſſes and judges were always at his diſpoſal, it was eaſy for him to cover his fury with an ap⯑pearance of legal proceedings, and to aſſault the reputation as well as the happineſs of Valeria. Her eſtates were confiſcated, her eunuchs and domeſtics devoted to the moſt inhuman tortures, [242] and ſeveral innocent and reſpectable matrons, who were honoured with her friendſhip, ſuffered death, on a falſe accuſation of adultery. The empreſs herſelf, together with her mother Priſca, was condemned to exile; and as they were igno⯑miniouſly hurried from place to place before they were confined to a ſequeſtered village in the deſerts of Syria, they expoſed their ſhame and diſtreſs to the provinces of the Eaſt, which, dur⯑ing thirty years, had reſpected their auguſt dig⯑nity. Diocletian made ſeveral ineffectual efforts to alleviate the misfortunes of his daughter; and, as the laſt return that he expected for the Im⯑perial purple, which he had conferred upon Maximin, he entreated that Valeria might be permitted to ſhare his retirement of Salona, and to cloſe the eyes of her afflicted father ⁸³. He entreated, but as he could no longer threaten, his prayers were received with coldneſs and diſ⯑dain; and the pride of Maximin was gratified, in treating Diocletian as a ſuppliant, and his daughter as a criminal. The death of Maximin ſeemed to aſſure the empreſſes of a favourable alteration in their fortune. The public diſorders relaxed the vigilance of their guard, and they eaſily found means to eſcape from the place of their exile, and to repair, though with ſome precaution, and in diſguiſe, to the court of Li⯑cinius. His behaviour, in the firſt days of his [243] reign, and the honourable reception which he gave to young Candidianus, inſpired Valeria with a ſecret ſatisfaction, both on her own account, and on that of her adopted ſon. But theſe grate⯑ful proſpects were ſoon ſucceeded by horrour and aſtoniſhment, and the bloody executions which ſtained the palace of Nicomedia, ſufficiently con⯑vinced her, that the throne of Maximin was filled by a tyrant more inhuman than himſelf. Valeria conſulted her ſafety by a haſty flight, and, ſtill accompanied by her mother Priſca, they wandered above fifteen months ⁸⁴ through the provinces, concealed in the diſguiſe of ple⯑beian habits. They were at length diſcovered at Theſſalonica; and as the ſentence of their death was already pronounced, they were imme⯑diately beheaded, and their bodies thrown into the ſea. The people gazed on the melancholy ſpectacle; but their grief and indignation were ſuppreſſed by the terrors of a military guard. Such was the unworthy fate of the wife and daughter of Diocletian. We lament their mis⯑fortunes, we cannot diſcover their crimes, and whatever idea we may juſtly entertain of the cru⯑elty of Licinius, it remains a matter of ſurpriſe, [244] that he was not contented with ſome more ſecret and decent method of revenge ⁸⁵.

The Roman world was now divided between Quarrel between Conſtan⯑tine and Licinius. A. D. 314. Conſtantine and Licinius, the former of whom was maſter of the Weſt, and the latter of the Eaſt. It might perhaps have been expected that the conquerors, fatigued with civil war, and con⯑nected by a private as well as public alliance, would have renounced, or at leaſt would have ſuſpended, any farther deſigns of ambition. And yet a year had ſcarcely elapſed after the death of Maximin, before the victorious emperors turned their arms againſt each other. The genius, the ſucceſs, and the aſpiring temper, of Conſtantine, may ſeem to mark him out as the aggreſſor; but the perfidious character of Licinius juſtifies the moſt unfavourable ſuſpicions, and by the faint light which hiſtory reflects on this tranſaction ⁸⁶, we may diſcover a conſpiracy fomented by his arts againſt the authority of his colleague. Con⯑ſtantine had lately given his ſiſter Anaſtaſia in marriage to Baſſianus, a man of a conſiderable family and fortune, and had elevated his new kinſman to the rank of Caeſar. According to the ſyſtem of government inſtituted by Diocle⯑tian, Italy, and perhaps Africa, were deſigned [245] for his department in the empire. But the per⯑formance of the promiſed favour was either at⯑tended with ſo much delay, or accompanied with ſo many unequal conditions, that the fidelity of Baſſianus was alienated rather than ſecured by the honourable diſtinction which he had obtained. His nomination had been ratified by the conſent of Licinius, and that artful prince, by the means of his emiſſaries, ſoon contrived to enter into a ſecret and dangerous correſpondence with the new Caeſar, to irritate his diſcontents, and to urge him to the raſh enterpriſe of extorting by violence what he might in vain ſolicit from the juſtice of Conſtantine. But the vigilant emperor diſcovered the conſpiracy before it was ripe for execution; and, after ſolemnly renouncing the alliance of Baſſianus, deſpoiled him of the pur⯑ple, and inflicted the deſerved puniſhment on his treaſon and ingratitude. The haughty refuſal of Licinius, when he was required to deliver up the criminals, who had taken refuge in his domi⯑nions, confirmed the ſuſpicions already enter⯑tained of his perfidy; and the indignities offered at Aemona, on the frontiers of Italy, to the ſtatues of Conſtantine, became the ſignal of diſcord be⯑tween the two princes ⁸⁷.

The firſt battle was fought near Cibalis, a city of Pannonia, ſituated on the river Save, about Firſt civil war be⯑tween them. [246] fifty miles above Sirmium ⁸⁸. From the incon⯑ſiderable forces which in this important conteſt two ſuch powerful monarchs brought into the Battle of Cibalis. A. D. 315. 8th Oct. field, it may be inferred, that the one was ſud⯑denly provoked, and that the other was unex⯑pectedly ſurpriſed. The emperor of the Weſt had only twenty thouſand, and the ſovereign of the Eaſt no more than five and thirty thouſand, men. The inferiority of number was, however, compenſated by the advantage of the ground. Conſtantine had taken poſt in a defile about half a mile in breadth, between a ſteep hill and a deep moraſs, and in that ſituation he ſteadily expected and repulſed the firſt attack of the enemy. He purſued his ſucceſs, and advanced into the plain. But the veteran legions of Illyricum rallied under the ſtandard of a leader who had been trained to arms in the ſchool of Probus and Diocletian. The miſſile weapons on both ſides were ſoon ex⯑hauſted; the two armies, with equal valour, ruſhed to a cloſer engagement of ſwords and ſpears, and the doubtful conteſt had already laſt⯑ed from the dawn of the day to a late hour of the evening, when the right wing, which Conſtantine led in perſon, made a vigorous and deciſive charge. The judicious retreat of Licinius ſaved [247] the remainder of his troops from a total defeat; but when he computed his loſs, which amounted to more than twenty thouſand men, he thought it unſafe to paſs the night in the preſence of an active and victorious enemy. Abandoning his camp and magazines, he marched away with ſe⯑crecy and diligence at the head of the greateſt part of his cavalry, and was ſoon removed be⯑yond the danger of a purſuit. His diligence preſerved his wife, his ſon, and his treaſures, which he had depoſited at Sirmium. Licinius paſſed through that city, and breaking down the bridge on the Save, haſtened to collect a new army in Dacia and Thrace. In his flight he be⯑ſtowed the precarious title of Caeſar on Valens, his general of the Illyrian frontier ⁸⁹.

The plain of Mardia in Thrace was the theatre Battle of Mardia. of a ſecond battle no leſs obſtinate and bloody than the former. The troops on both ſides diſ⯑played the ſame valour and diſcipline; and the victory was once more decided by the ſuperior abilities of Conſtantine, who directed a body of five thouſand men to gain an advantageous height, from whence, during the heat of the action, they attacked the rear of the enemy, and made a very conſiderable ſlaughter. The troops of Licinius, however, preſenting a double front, ſtill main⯑tained their ground, till the approach of night put an end to the combat, and ſecured their re⯑treat [248] towards the mountains of Macedonia ⁹⁰. The loſs of two battles, and of his braveſt ve⯑terans, reduced the fierce ſpirit of Licinius to ſue for peace. His ambaſſador Miſtrianus was admitted to the audience of Conſtantine; he ex⯑patiated on the common topics of moderation and humanity, which are ſo familiar to the elo⯑quence of the vanquiſhed; repreſented, in the moſt inſinuating language, that the event of the war was ſtill doubtful, whilſt its inevitable ca⯑lamities were alike pernicious to both the con⯑tending parties; and declared, that he was au⯑thoriſed to propoſe a laſting and honourable peace in the name of the two emperors his maſ⯑ters. Conſtantine received the mention of Va⯑lens with indignation and contempt. ‘It was not for ſuch a purpoſe, he ſternly replied, that we have advanced from the ſhores of the weſtern ocean in an uninterrupted courſe of combats and victories, that, after rejecting an ungrateful kinſman, we ſhould accept for our colleague a contemptible ſlave. The abdica⯑tion of Valens is the firſt article of the treaty ⁹¹.’ [249] It was neceſſary to accept this humiliating con⯑dition, and the unhappy Valens, after a reign of a few days, was deprived of the purple and of his life. As ſoon as this obſtacle was removed, the tranquillity of the Roman world was eaſily reſtored. The ſucceſſive defeats of Licinius had ruined his forces, but they had diſplayed his courage and abilities. His ſituation was almoſt deſperate, but the efforts of deſpair are ſome⯑times formidable; and the good ſenſe of Con⯑ſtantine preferred a great and certain advantage to a third trial of the chance of arms. He con⯑ſented Treaty of peace. December. to leave his rival, or, as he again ſtyled Licinius, his friend and brother, in the poſſeſſion of Thrace, Aſia Minor, Syria, and Egypt; but the provinces of Pannonia, Dalmatia, Dacia, Macedonia, and Greece, were yielded to the weſtern empire, and the dominions of Conſtan⯑tine now extended from the confines of Caledo⯑nia to the extremity of Peloponneſus. It was ſtipulated by the ſame treaty, that three royal youths, the ſons of the emperors, ſhould be called to the hopes of the ſucceſſion. Criſpus and the young Conſtantine were ſoon afterwards declared Caeſars in the Weſt, while the younger Licinius was inveſted with the ſame dignity in the Eaſt. In this double proportion of honours, the con⯑queror aſſerted the ſuperiority of his arms and power ⁹².

[250] The reconciliation of Conſtantine and Licinius, though it was embittered by reſentment and jea⯑louſy, by the remembrance of recent injuries, General peace and laws of Conſtan⯑tine. A. D. 315—323. and by the apprehenſion of future dangers, main⯑tained, however, above eight years, the tran⯑quillity of the Roman world. As a very regular ſeries of the Imperial laws commences about this period, it would not be difficult to tranſcribe the civil regulations which employed the leiſure of Conſtantine. But the moſt important of his inſtitutions are intimately connected with the new ſyſtem of policy and religion, which was not perfectly eſtabliſhed till the laſt and peace⯑ful years of his reign. There are many of his laws, which, as far as they concern the rights and property of individuals, and the practice of the bar, are more properly referred to the private than to the public juriſprudence of the empire; and he publiſhed many edicts of ſo local and temporary a nature, that they would ill deſerve the notice of a general hiſtory. Two laws, how⯑ever, may be ſelected from the crowd; the one, for its importance, the other, for its ſingularity; the former for its remarkable benevolence, the latter for its exceſſive ſeverity. 1. The horrid practice, ſo familiar to the ancients, of expoſing or murdering their new-born infants, was be⯑come [251] every day more frequent in the provinces, and eſpecially in Italy. It was the effect of diſ⯑treſs; and the diſtreſs was principally occaſioned by the intolerable burden of taxes, and by the vexatious as well as cruel proſecutions of the officers of the revenue againſt their inſolent debtors. The leſs opulent or leſs induſtrious part of mankind, inſtead of rejoicing in an in⯑creaſe of family, deemed it an act of paternal tenderneſs to releaſe their children from the im⯑pending miſeries of a life which they themſelves were unable to ſupport. The humanity of Con⯑ſtantine, moved, perhaps, by ſome recent and extraordinary inſtances of deſpair, engaged him to addreſs an edict to all the cities of Italy, and afterwards of Africa, directing immediate and ſufficient relief to be given to thoſe parents who ſhould produce, before the magiſtrates, the chil⯑dren whom their own poverty would not allow them to educate. But the promiſe was too li⯑beral, and the proviſion too vague, to effect any general or permanent benefit ⁹³. The law, though it may merit ſome praiſe, ſerved rather to diſ⯑play than to alleviate the public diſtreſs. It ſtill remains an authentic monument to contradict and confound thoſe venal orators, who were too well ſatisfied with their own ſituation to diſcover either vice or miſery under the government of a generous ſovereign ⁹⁴. 2. The laws of Conſtan⯑tine [252] againſt rapes were dictated with very little indulgence, for the moſt amiable weakneſſes of human nature; ſince the deſcription of that crime was applied not only to the brutal violence which compelled, but even to the gentle ſeduc⯑tion which might perſuade, an unmarried wo⯑man, under the age of twenty-five, to leave the houſe of her parents. ‘The ſucceſsful raviſher was puniſhed with death; and as if ſimple death was inadequate to the enormity of his guilt, he was either burnt alive, or torn in pieces by wild beaſts in the amphitheatre. The virgin's declaration that ſhe had been car⯑ried away with her own conſent, inſtead of ſaving her lover, expoſed her to ſhare his fate. The duty of a public proſecution was intruſted to the parents of the guilty or unfortunate maid; and if the ſentiments of Nature pre⯑vailed on them to diſſemble the injury, and to repair by a ſubſequent marriage the honour of their family, they were themſelves puniſhed by exile and confiſcation. The ſlaves, whe⯑ther male or female, who were convicted of having been acceſſary to the rape or ſeduction, were burnt alive, or put to death by the in⯑genious torture of pouring down their throats a quantity of melted lead. As the crime was of a public kind, the accuſation was permitted even to ſtrangers. The commencement of the action was not limited to any term of years, and the conſequences of the ſentence [253] were extended to the innocent offspring of ſuch an irregular union ⁹⁵.’ But whenever the offence inſpires leſs horror than the puniſh⯑ment, the rigour of penal law is obliged to give way to the common feelings of mankind. The moſt odious parts of this edict were ſoftened or repealed in the ſubſequent reigns ⁹⁶; and even Conſtantine himſelf very frequently alleviated, by partial acts of mercy, the ſtern temper of his general inſtitutions. Such, indeed, was the ſin⯑gular humour of that emperor, who ſhewed him⯑ſelf as indulgent, and even remiſs, in the execu⯑tion of his laws, as he was ſevere, and even cruel, in the enacting of them. It is ſcarcely poſſible to obſerve a more deciſive ſymptom of weakneſs, either in the character of the prince, or in the conſtitution of the government ⁹⁷.

The civil adminiſtration was ſometimes inter⯑rupted The Go⯑thic war. by the military defence of the empire. Criſpus, a youth of the moſt amiable character, A. D. 322. who had received with the title of Caeſar the command of the Rhine, diſtinguiſhed his con⯑duct, as well as valour, in ſeveral victories over [254] the Franks and Alemanni; and taught the bar⯑barians of that frontier to dread the eldeſt ſon of Conſtantine, and the grandſon of Conſtantius ⁹⁸. The emperor himſelf had aſſumed the more dif⯑ficult and important province of the Danube. The Goths, who in the time of Claudius and Aurelian had felt the weight of the Roman arms, reſpected the power of the empire, even in the midſt of its inteſtine diviſions. But the ſtrength of that warlike nation was now reſtored by a peace of near fifty years; a new generation had ariſen, who no longer remembered the misfor⯑tunes of ancient days: the Sarmatians of the lake Moeotis followed the Gothic ſtandard either as ſubjects or as allies, and their united force was poured upon the countries of Illyricum. Cam⯑pona, Margus, and Bononia, appear to have been the ſcenes of ſeveral memorable ſieges and battles ⁹⁹; and though Conſtantine encountered a very obſtinate reſiſtance, he prevailed at length in the conteſt, and the Goths were compelled to purchaſe an ignominious retreat, by reſtoring the booty and priſoners which they had taken. Nor was this advantage ſufficient to ſatisfy the indig⯑nation of the emperor. He reſolved to chaſtiſe as well as to repulſe the inſolent barbarians who [255] had dared to invade the territories of Rome. At the head of his legions he paſſed the Danube, after repairing the bridge which had been con⯑ſtructed by Trajan, penetrated into the ſtrongeſt receſſes of Dacia ¹⁰⁰, and when he had inflicted a ſevere revenge, condeſcended to give peace to the ſuppliant Goths, on condition that, as often as they were required, they ſhould ſupply his armies with a body of forty thouſand ſoldiers ¹⁰¹. Exploits like theſe were no doubt honourable to Conſtantine, and beneficial to the ſtate; but it may ſurely be queſtioned, whether they can juſ⯑tify the exaggerated aſſertion of Euſebius, that ALL SCYTHIA, as far as the extremity of the North, divided as it was into ſo many names and nations of the moſt various and ſavage manners, had been added by his victorious arms to the Roman empire ¹⁰².

In this exalted ſtate of glory it was impoſſible Second civil war between Conſtan⯑tine and Licinius. A. D. 323. that Conſtantine ſhould any longer endure a partner in the empire. Confiding in the ſupe⯑riority of his genius and military power, he de⯑termined, without any previous injury, to exert [256] them for the deſtruction of Licinius, whoſe ad⯑vanced age and unpopular vices ſeemed to offer a very eaſy conqueſt ¹⁰³. But the old emperor, awakened by the approaching danger, deceived the expectations of his friends as well as of his enemies. Calling forth that ſpirit and thoſe abi⯑lities by which he had deſerved the friendſhip of Galerius and the Imperial purple, he prepared himſelf for the conteſt, collected the forces of the Eaſt, and ſoon filled the plains of Hadri⯑anople with his troops, and the Streights of the Helleſpont with his fleet. The army conſiſted of one hundred and fifty thouſand foot, and fifteen thouſand horſe; and as the cavalry was drawn, for the moſt part, from Phrygia and Cappadocia, we may conceive a more favourable opinion of the beauty of the horſes, than of the courage and dexterity of their riders. The fleet was compoſed of three hundred and fifty gallies of three ranks of oars. An hundred and thirty of theſe were furniſhed by Egypt, and the adja⯑cent coaſt of Africa. An hundred and ten ſailed from the ports of Phoenicia and the iſle of Cy⯑prus; and the maritime countries of Bithynia, Ionia, and Caria, were likewiſe obliged to pro⯑vide an hundred and ten gallies. The troops of Conſtantine were ordered to rendezvous at Theſ⯑ſalonica; they amounted to above an hundred [257] and twenty thouſand horſe and foot ¹⁰⁴. Their emperor was ſatisfied with their martial appear⯑ance, and his army contained more ſoldiers, though fewer men, than that of his eaſtern com⯑petitor. The legions of Conſtantine were levied in the warlike provinces of Europe; action had confirmed their diſcipline, victory had elevated their hopes, and there were among them a great number of veterans, who, after ſeventeen glorious campaigns under the ſame leader, prepared them⯑ſelves to deſerve an honourable diſmiſſion by a laſt effort of their valour ¹⁰⁵. But the naval pre⯑parations of Conſtantine were in every reſpect much inferior to thoſe of Licinius. The mari⯑time cities of Greece ſent their reſpective quotas of men and ſhips to the celebrated harbour of Piraeus, and their united forces conſiſted of no more than two hundred ſmall veſſels: a very feeble armament, if it is compared with thoſe formidable fleets which were equipped and main⯑tained by the republic of Athens during the Pe⯑loponneſian war ¹⁰⁶. Since Italy was no longer [258] the ſeat of government, the naval eſtabliſhments of Miſenum and Ravenna had been gradually neglected; and as the ſhipping and mariners of the empire were ſupported by commerce rather than by war, it was natural that they ſhould the moſt abound in the induſtrious provinces of Egypt and Aſia. It is only ſurpriſing that the eaſtern emperor, who poſſeſſed ſo great a ſupe⯑riority at ſea, ſhould have neglected the oppor⯑tunity of carrying an offenſive war into the centre of his rival's dominions.

Inſtead of embracing ſuch an active reſolution, Battle of Hadriano⯑ple. A. D. 323. July 3. which might have changed the whole face of the war, the prudent Licinius expected the approach of his rival in a camp near Hadrianople, which he had fortified with an anxious care that be⯑trayed his apprehenſion of the event. Conſtan⯑tine directed his march from Theſſalonica to⯑wards that part of Thrace, till he found himſelf ſtopped by the broad and rapid ſtream of the Hebrus, and diſcovered the numerous army of Licinius, which filled the ſteep aſcent of the hill, from the river to the city of Hadrianople. Many days were ſpent in doubtful and diſtant ſkir⯑miſhes; but at length the obſtacles of the paſſage and of the attack were removed by the intrepid conduct of Conſtantine. In this place we might relate a wonderful exploit of Conſtantine, which, though it can ſcarcely be paralleled either in po⯑etry or romance, is celebrated, not by a venal orator devoted to his fortune, but by an hiſto⯑rian, the partial enemy of his fame. We are [259] aſſured that the valiant emperor threw himſelf into the river Hebrus, accompanied only by twelve horſemen, and that by the effort or terror of his invincible arm, he broke, ſlaughtered, and put to ſlight a hoſt of an hundred and fifty thou⯑ſand men. The credulity of Zoſimus prevailed ſo ſtrongly over his paſſion, that among the events of the memorable battle of Hadrianople, he ſeems to have ſelected and embelliſhed, not the moſt important, but the moſt marvellous. The valour and danger of Conſtantine are atteſted by a ſlight wound which he received in the thigh, but it may be diſcovered even from an imperfect narration, and perhaps a corrupted text, that the victory was obtained no leſs by the conduct of the general than by the courage of the hero; that a body of five thouſand archers marched round to occupy a thick wood in the rear of the enemy, whoſe attention was diverted by the con⯑ſtruction of a bridge, and that Licinius, per⯑plexed by ſo many artful evolutions, was reluc⯑tantly drawn from his advantageous poſt to com⯑bat on equal ground in the plain. The conteſt was no longer equal. His confuſed multitude of new levies was eaſily vanquiſhed by the ex⯑perienced veterans of the Weſt. Thirty-four thouſand men are reported to have been ſlain. The fortified camp of Licinius was taken by aſſault the evening of the battle; the greater part of the fugitives, who had retired to the moun⯑tains, ſurrendered themſelves the next day to the diſcretion of the conqueror; and his rival, [260] who could no longer keep the field, confined himſelf within the walls of Byzantium ¹⁰⁷.

The ſiege of Byzantium, which was immedi⯑ately Siege of Byzanti⯑um, and naval vic⯑tory of Criſpus. undertaken by Conſtantine, was attended with great labour and uncertainty. In the late civil wars, the fortifications of that place, ſo juſtly conſidered as the key of Europe and Aſia, had been repaired and ſtrengthened; and as long as Licinius remained maſter of the ſea, the gar⯑riſon was much leſs expoſed to the danger of fa⯑mine than the army of the beſiegers. The naval commanders of Conſtantine were ſummoned to his camp, and received his poſitive orders to force the paſſage of the Helleſpont, as the fleet of Licinius, inſtead of ſeeking and deſtroying their feeble enemy, continued inactive in thoſe narrow ſtreights where its ſuperiority of numbers was of little uſe or advantage. Criſpus, the em⯑peror's eldeſt ſon, was intruſted with the execu⯑tion of this daring enterpriſe, which he per⯑formed with ſo much courage and ſucceſs, that he deſerved the eſteem, and moſt probably ex⯑cited the jealouſy, of his father. The engage⯑ment laſted two days, and in the evening of the firſt, the contending fleets, after a conſiderable and mutual loſs, retired into their reſpective har⯑bours [261] of Europe and Aſia. The ſecond day about noon a ſtrong ſouth wind ¹⁰⁸ ſprang up, which carried the veſſels of Criſpus againſt the enemy, and as the caſual advantage was improved by his ſkilful intrepidity, he ſoon obtained a complete victory. An hundred and thirty veſſels were deſtroyed, five thouſand men were ſlain, and Amandus, the admiral of the Aſiatic fleet, eſcaped with the utmoſt difficulty to the ſhores of Chalcedon. As ſoon as the Helleſpont was open, a plentiful convoy of proviſions flowed into the camp of Conſtantine, who had already advanced the operations of the ſiege. He conſtructed ar⯑tificial mounds of earth of an equal height with the ramparts of Byzantium. The lofty towers which were erected on that foundation, galled the beſieged with large ſtones and darts from the military engines, and the battering rams had ſhaken the walls in ſeveral places. If Licinius perſiſted much longer in the defence, he expoſed himſelf to be involved in the ruin, of the place. Before he was ſurrounded he prudently removed his perſon and treaſures to Chalcedon in Aſia; and as he was always deſirous of aſſociating com⯑panions to the hopes and dangers of his fortune, he now beſtowed the title of Caeſar on Martini⯑anus, [262] who exerciſed one of the moſt important offices of the empire ¹⁰⁹.

Such were ſtill the reſources, and ſuch the Battle of Chryſopo⯑lis. abilities, of Licinius, that, after ſo many ſucceſ⯑ſive defeats, he collected in Bithynia a new army of fifty or ſixty thouſand men, while the activity of Conſtantine was employed in the ſiege of By⯑zantium. The vigilant emperor did not how⯑ever neglect the laſt ſtruggles of his antagoniſt. A conſiderable part of his victorious army was tranſported over the Boſphorus in ſmall veſſels, and the deciſive engagement was ſought ſoon after their landing on the heights of Chryſopolis, or, as it is now called, of Scutari. The troops of Licinius, though they were lately raiſed, ill armed, and worſe diſciplined, made head againſt their conquerors with fruitleſs but deſperate va⯑lour, till a total defeat and the ſlaughter of five and twenty thouſand men irretrievably deter⯑mined the fate of their leader ¹¹⁰. He retired to Submiſſion and death of Lici⯑nius. Nicomedia, rather with the view of gaining ſome time for negotiation, than with the hope of any effectual defence. Conſtantia, his wife and the ſiſter of Conſtantine, interceded with her brother in favour of her huſband, and obtained from his policy rather than from his compaſſion, a ſolemn [263] promiſe, confirmed by an oath, that after the ſacrifice of Martinianus, and the reſignation of the purple, Licinius himſelf ſhould be permitted to paſs the remainder of his life in peace and affluence. The behaviour of Conſtantia, and her relation to the contending parties, naturally recals the remembrance of that virtuous matron who was the ſiſter of Auguſtus, and the wife of Antony. But the temper of mankind was al⯑tered, and it was no longer eſteemed infamous for a Roman to ſurvive his honour and inde⯑pendence. Licinius ſolicited and accepted the pardon of his offences, laid himſelf and his pur⯑ple at the feet of his lord and maſter, was raiſed from the ground with inſulting pity, was ad⯑mitted the ſame day to the Imperial banquet, and ſoon afterwards was ſent away to Theſſalo⯑nica, which had been choſen for the place of his confinement ¹¹¹. His confinement was ſoon ter⯑minated by death, and it is doubtful whether a tumult of the ſoldiers, or a decree of the ſenate, was ſuggeſted as a motive for his execution. According to the rules of tyranny, he was accuſed of forming a conſpiracy, and of holding a trea⯑ſonable correſpondence with the barbarians; but as he was never convicted, either by his own conduct or by any legal evidence, we may per⯑haps be allowed, from his weakneſs, to preſume his innocence ¹¹². The memory of Licinius was [264] branded with infamy, his ſtatues were thrown down, and, by a haſty edict, of ſuch miſchievous tendency that it was almoſt immediately cor⯑rected, all his laws, and all the judicial proceed⯑ings of his reign, were at once aboliſhed ¹¹³. By Re-union of the em⯑pire. A. D. 324. this victory of Conſtantine, the Roman world was again united under the authority of one em⯑peror, thirty-ſeven years after Diocletian had di⯑vided his power and provinces with his aſſociate Maximian.

The ſucceſſive ſteps of the elevation of Con⯑ſtantine, from his firſt aſſuming the purple at York, to the reſignation of Licinius at Nicome⯑dia, have been related with ſome minuteneſs and preciſion, not only as the events are in them⯑ſelves both intereſting and important, but ſtill more, as they contributed to the decline of the empire by the expence of blood and treaſure, and by the perpetual increaſe, as well of the taxes, as of the military eſtabliſhment. The foundation of Conſtantinople, and the eſtabliſh⯑ment of the Chriſtian religion, were the imme⯑diate and memorable conſequences of this revo⯑lution.

CHAP. XV. The Progreſs of the Chriſtian Religion, and the Sen⯑timents, Manners, Numbers, and Condition, of the primitive Chriſtians.

A CANDID but rational inquiry into the pro⯑greſs and eſtabliſhment of Chriſtianity, may be conſidered as a very eſſential part of the Import⯑ance of the inquiry. hiſtory of the Roman empire. While that great body was invaded by open violence, or under⯑mined by ſlow decay, a pure and humble religion gently inſinuated itſelf into the minds of men, grew up in ſilence and obſcurity, derived new vigour from oppoſition, and finally erected the triumphant banner of the croſs on the ruins of the Capitol. Nor was the influence of Chriſti⯑anity confined to the period or to the limits of the Roman empire. After a revolution of thir⯑teen or fourteen centuries, that religion is ſtill profeſſed by the nations of Europe, the moſt diſ⯑tinguiſhed portion of human kind in arts and learning as well as in arms. By the induſtry and zeal of the Europeans, it has been widely diffuſed to the moſt diſtant ſhores of Aſia and Africa; and by the means of their colonies has been firmly eſtabliſhed from Canada to Chili, in a world unknown to the ancients.

But this inquiry, however uſeful or entertain⯑ing, Its difficul⯑ties. is attended with two peculiar difficulties. The ſcanty and ſuſpicious materials of eccleſiaſti⯑cal [266] hiſtory ſeldom enable us to diſpel the dark cloud that hangs over the firſt age of the church. The great law of impartiality too often obliges us to reveal the imperfections of the uninſpired teachers and believers of the goſpel; and, to a careleſs obſerver, their faults may ſeem to caſt a ſhade on the faith which they profeſſed. But the ſcandal of the pious Chriſtian, and the fallacious triumph of the Infidel, ſhould ceaſe as ſoon as they recollect not only by whom, but likewiſe to whom, the Divine Revelation was given. The theologian may indulge the pleaſing taſk of de⯑ſcribing Religion as ſhe deſcended from Heaven, arrayed in her native purity. A more melan⯑choly duty is impoſed on the hiſtorian. He muſt diſcover the inevitable mixture of error and cor⯑ruption, which ſhe contracted in a long reſi⯑dence upon earth, among a weak and degenerate race of beings.

Our curioſity is naturally prompted to inquire Five cauſes of the growth of Chriſtiani⯑ty. by what means the Chriſtian faith obtained ſo remarkable a victory over the eſtabliſhed religions of the earth. To this inquiry, an obvious but ſatisfactory anſwer may be returned; that it was owing to the convincing evidence of the doctrine itſelf, and to the ruling providence of its great Author. But as truth and reaſon ſeldom find ſo favourable a reception in the world, and as the wiſdom of Providence frequently condeſcends to uſe the paſſions of the human heart, and the general circumſtances of mankind, as inſtruments to execute its purpoſe; we may ſtill be permitted, [267] though with becoming ſubmiſſion, to aſk, not indeed what were the firſt, but what were the ſe⯑condary cauſes of the rapid growth of the Chriſtian church. It will, perhaps, appear, that it was moſt effectually favoured and aſſiſted by the five following cauſes: I. The inflexible, and, if we may uſe the expreſſion, the intolerant zeal of the Chriſtians, derived, it is true, from the Jewiſh religion, but purified from the narrow and un⯑ſocial ſpirit, which, inſtead of inviting, had de⯑terred the Gentiles from embracing the law of Moſes. II. The doctrine of a future life, im⯑proved by every additional circumſtance which could give weight and efficacy to that important truth. III. The miraculous powers aſcribed to the primitive church. IV. The pure and auſtere morals of the Chriſtians. V. The union and diſcipline of the Chriſtian republic, which gra⯑dually formed an independent and increaſing ſtate in the heart of the Roman empire.

I. We have already deſcribed the religious THE FIRST CAUSE. Zeal of the Jews. harmony of the ancient world, and the facility with which the moſt different and even hoſtile nations embraced, or at leaſt reſpected, each other's ſuperſtitions. A ſingle people refuſed to join in the common intercourſe of mankind. The Jews, who under the Aſſyrian and Perſian monarchies, had languiſhed for many ages the moſt deſpiſed portion of their ſlaves ¹, emerged [268] from obſcurity under the ſucceſſors of Alexander; and as they multiplied to a ſurpriſing degree in the Eaſt, and afterwards in the Weſt, they ſoon excited the curioſity and wonder of other nations ². The ſullen obſtinacy with which they maintained their peculiar rites and unſocial manners, ſeemed to mark them out a diſtinct ſpecies of men, who boldly profeſſed, or who faintly diſguiſed, their implacable hatred to the reſt of human-kind ³. Neither the violence of Antiochus, nor the arts of Herod, nor the example of the circumjacent nations, could ever perſuade the Jews to aſſociate with the inſtitutions of Moſes the elegant mytho⯑logy of the Greeks ⁴. According to the maxims of univerſal toleration, the Romans protected a ſuperſtition which they deſpiſed ⁵. The polite Auguſtus condeſcended to give orders, that ſacri⯑fices ſhould be offered for his proſperity in the [269] temple of Jeruſalem ⁶; while the meaneſt of the poſterity of Abraham, who ſhould have paid the ſame homage to the Jupiter of the Capitol, would have been an object of abhorrence to him⯑ſelf and to his brethren. But the moderation of the conquerors was inſufficient to appeaſe the jealous prejudices of their ſubjects, who were alarmed and ſcandalized at the enſigns of pagan⯑iſm, which neceſſarily introduced themſelves into a Roman province ⁷. The mad attempt of Ca⯑ligula to place his own ſtatue in the temple of Jeruſalem, was defeated by the unanimous reſo⯑lution of a people who dreaded death much leſs than ſuch an idolatrous profanation ⁸. Their attachment to the law of Moſes was equal to their deteſtation of foreign religions. The cur⯑rent of zeal and devotion, as it was contracted into a narrow channel, ran with the ſtrength, and ſometimes with the fury, of a torrent.

This inflexible perſeverance, which appeared Its gradual increaſe. ſo odious or ſo ridiculous to the ancient world, aſſumes a more awful character, ſince Providence has deigned to reveal to us the myſterious hiſtory [270] of the choſen people. But the devout and even ſcrupulous attachment to the Moſaic religion, ſo conſpicuous among the Jews who lived under the ſecond temple, becomes ſtill more ſurpriſing, if it is compared with the ſtubborn incredulity of their forefathers. When the law was given in thunder from Mount Sinai; when the tides of the ocean, and the courſe of the planets were ſuſpended for the convenience of the Iſraelites; and when temporal rewards and puniſhments were the immediate conſequences of their piety or diſobedience, they perpetually relapſed into rebellion againſt the viſible majeſty of their Di⯑vine King, placed the idols of the nations in the ſanctuary of Jehovah, and imitated every fan⯑taſtic ceremony that was practiſed in the tents of the Arabs, or in the cities of Phoenicia ⁹. As the protection of Heaven was deſervedly with⯑drawn from the ungrateful race, their faith ac⯑quired a proportionable degree of vigour and purity. The contemporaries of Moſes and Joſhua had beheld with careleſs indifference the moſt amazing miracles. Under the preſſure of every calamity, the belief of thoſe miracles has pre⯑ſerved the Jews of a later period from the uni⯑verſal contagion of idolatry; and in contradiction to every known principle of the human mind, that ſingular people ſeems to have yielded a ſtronger and more ready aſſent to the traditions [271] of their remote anceſtors, than to the evidence of their own ſenſes ¹⁰.

The Jewiſh religion was admirably fitted for Their reli⯑gion better ſuited to defence than to conqueſt. defence, but it was never deſigned for conqueſt; and it ſeems probable that the number of pro⯑ſelytes was never much ſuperior to that of apoſ⯑tates. The divine promiſes were originally made, and the diſtinguiſhing rite of circumciſion was enjoined to a ſingle family. When the poſterity of Abraham had multiplied like the ſands of the ſea, the Deity, from whoſe mouth they received a ſyſtem of laws and ceremonies, declared him⯑ſelf the proper and as it were the national God of Iſrael; and with the moſt jealous care ſepa⯑rated his favourite people from the reſt of man⯑kind. The conqueſt of the land of Canaan was accompanied with ſo many wonderful and with ſo many bloody circumſtances, that the victo⯑rious Jews were left in a ſtate of irreconcilable hoſtility with all their neighbours. They had been commanded to extirpate ſome of the moſt idolatrous tribes, and the execution of the Di⯑vine will had ſeldom been retarded by the weak⯑neſs of humanity. With the other nations they were forbidden to contract any marriages or al⯑liances, and the prohibition of receiving them into the congregation, which in ſome caſes was perpetual, almoſt always extended to the third, [272] to the ſeventh, or even to the tenth generation. The obligation of preaching to the Gentiles the faith of Moſes, had never been inculcated as a precept of the law, nor were the Jews inclined to impoſe it on themſelves as a voluntary duty. In the admiſſion of new citizens, that unſocial people was actuated by the ſelfiſh vanity of the Greeks, rather than by the generous policy of Rome. The deſcendants of Abraham were flat⯑tered by the opinion, that they alone were the heirs of the covenant, and they were apprehen⯑ſive of diminiſhing the value of their inherit⯑ance, by ſharing it too eaſily with the ſtrangers of the earth. A larger acquaintance with man⯑kind, extended their knowledge without correct⯑ing their prejudices; and whenever the God of Iſrael acquired any new votaries, he was much more indebted to the inconſtant humour of po⯑lytheiſm than to the active zeal of his own miſ⯑ſionaries ¹¹. The religion of Moſes ſeems to be inſtituted for a particular country as well as for a ſingle nation; and if a ſtrict obedience had been paid to the order, that every male, three times in the year, ſhould preſent himſelf before the Lord Jehovah, it would have been impoſſible that the Jews could ever have ſpread themſelves beyond the narrow limits of the promiſed land ¹². That obſtacle was indeed removed by the deſtruction of the temple of Jeruſalem; but the moſt con⯑ſiderable [273] part of the Jewiſh religion was involved in its deſtruction; and the pagans, who had long wondered at the ſtrange report of an empty ſanctuary ¹³, were at a loſs to diſcover what could be the object, or what could be the inſtruments, of a worſhip which was deſtitute of temples and of altars, of prieſts and of ſacrifices. Yet even in their fallen ſtate, the Jews, ſtill aſſerting their lofty and excluſive privileges, ſhunned, inſtead of courting, the ſociety of ſtrangers. They ſtill inſiſted with inflexible rigour on thoſe parts of the law which it was in their power to practiſe. Their peculiar diſtinctions of days, of meats, and a variety of trivial though burdenſome obſerv⯑ances, were ſo many objects of diſguſt and aver⯑ſion for the other nations, to whoſe habits and prejudices they were diametrically oppoſite. The painful and even dangerous rite of circumciſion was alone capable of repelling a willing proſelyte from the door of the ſynagogue ¹⁴.

Under theſe circumſtances, Chriſtianity offered More libe⯑ral zeal of Chriſtiani⯑ty. itſelf to the world, armed with the ſtrength of the Moſaic law, and delivered from the weight of its fetters. An excluſive zeal for the truth of religion, and the unity of God, was as carefully [274] inculcated in the new as in the ancient ſyſtem: and whatever was now revealed to mankind con⯑cerning the nature and deſigns of the Supreme Being, was fitted to increaſe their reverence for that myſterious doctrine. The divine authority of Moſes and the prophets was admitted, and even eſtabliſhed, as the firmeſt baſis of Chriſti⯑anity. From the beginning of the world, an uninterrupted ſeries of predictions had announced and prepared the long expected coming of the Meſſiah, who, in compliance with the groſs apprehenſions of the Jews, had been more fre⯑quently repreſented under the character of a King and Conqueror, than under that of a Prophet, a Martyr, and the Son of God. By his expia⯑tory ſacrifice, the imperfect ſacrifices of the tem⯑ple were at once conſummated and aboliſhed. The ceremonial law, which conſiſted only of types and figures, was ſucceeded by a pure and ſpiritual worſhip, equally adapted to all climates, as well as to every condition of mankind; and to the initiation of blood, was ſubſtituted a more harmleſs initiation of water. The promiſe of divine favour, inſtead of being partially confined to the poſterity of Abraham, was univerſally pro⯑poſed to the freeman and the ſlave, to the Greek and to the barbarian, to the Jew and to the Gen⯑tile. Every privilege that could raiſe the pro⯑ſelyte from earth to Heaven, that could exalt his devotion, ſecure his happineſs, or even gratify that ſecret pride, which, under the ſemblance of devotion, inſinuates itſelf into the human heart, [275] was ſtill reſerved for the members of the Chriſtian church; but at the ſame time all mankind was permitted, and even ſolicited, to accept the glo⯑rious diſtinction, which was not only proffered as a favour, but impoſed as an obligation. It be⯑came the moſt ſacred duty of a new convert to diffuſe among his friends and relations the ineſti⯑mable bleſſing which he had received, and to warn them againſt a refuſal that would be ſe⯑verely puniſhed as a criminal diſobedience to the will of a benevolent but all-powerful deity.

The enfranchiſement of the church from the Obſtinacy and reaſons of the be⯑lieving Jews. bonds of the ſynagogue, was a work however of ſome time and of ſome difficulty. The Jewiſh converts, who acknowledged Jeſus in the cha⯑racter of the Meſſiah foretold by their ancient oracles, reſpected him as a prophetic teacher of virtue and religion; but they obſtinately adhered to the ceremonies of their anceſtors, and were deſirous of impoſing them on the Gentiles, who continually augmented the number of believers. Theſe Judaiſing Chriſtians ſeem to have argued with ſome degree of plauſibility from the divine origin of the Moſaic law, and from the immu⯑table perfections of its great Author. They af⯑firmed, that if the Being, who is the ſame through all eternity, had deſigned to aboliſh thoſe ſacred rites which had ſerved to diſtinguiſh his choſen people, the repeal of them would have been no leſs clear and ſolemn than their firſt promulga⯑tion: that, inſtead of thoſe frequent declarations, which either ſuppoſe or aſſert the perpetuity of [276] the Moſaic religion, it would have been repre⯑ſented as a proviſionary ſcheme intended to laſt only till the coming of the Meſſiah, who ſhould inſtruct mankind in a more perfect mode of faith and of worſhip ¹⁵: that the Meſſiah himſelf, and his diſciples who converſed with him on earth, inſtead of authorizing by their example the moſt minute obſervances of the Moſaic law ¹⁶, would have publiſhed to the world the abolition of thoſe uſeleſs and obſolete ceremonies, without ſuffering Chriſtianity to remain during ſo many years obſcurely confounded among the ſects of the Jewiſh church. Arguments like theſe ap⯑pear to have been uſed in the defence of the ex⯑piring cauſe of the Moſaic law; but the induſtry of our learned divines has abundantly explained the ambiguous language of the Old Teſtament, and the ambiguous conduct of the apoſtolic teachers. It was proper gradually to unfold the ſyſtem of the Goſpel, and to pronounce, with the utmoſt caution and tenderneſs, a ſentence of condemnation ſo repugnant to the inclination and prejudices of the believing Jews.

[277] The hiſtory of the church of Jeruſalem affords a lively proof of the neceſſity of thoſe precau⯑tions, and of the deep impreſſion which the Jew⯑iſh The Na⯑zarene church of Jeruſalem. religion had made on the minds of its ſec⯑taries. The firſt fifteen biſhops of Jeruſalem were all circumciſed Jews; and the congregation over which they preſided, united the law of Moſes with the doctrine of Chriſt ¹⁷. It was natural that the primitive tradition of a church which was founded only forty days after the death of Chriſt, and was governed almoſt as many years under the immediate inſpection of his apoſtle, ſhould be received as the ſtandard of orthodoxy ¹⁸. The diſtant churches very frequently appealed to the authority of their venerable Parent, and relieved her diſtreſſes by a liberal contribution of alms. But when numerous and opulent ſocieties were eſtabliſhed in the great cities of the empire, in Antioch, Alexandria, Epheſus, Corinth, and Rome, the reverence which Jeruſalem had in⯑ſpired to all the Chriſtian colonies inſenſibly di⯑miniſhed. The Jewiſh converts, or, as they were afterwards called, the Nazarenes, who had laid the foundations of the church, ſoon found themſelves overwhelmed by the increaſing mul⯑titudes, that from all the various religions of polytheiſm inliſted under the banner of Chriſt: [278] and the Gentiles, who, with the approbation of their peculiar apoſtle, had rejected the intolerable weight of Moſaic ceremonies, at length refuſed to their more ſcrupulous brethren the ſame tole⯑ration which at firſt they had humbly ſolicited for their own practice. The ruin of the temple, of the city, and of the public religion of the Jews, was ſeverely felt by the Nazarenes; as in their manners, though not in their faith, they main⯑tained ſo intimate a connexion with their impious countrymen, whoſe misfortunes were attributed by the Pagans to the contempt, and more juſtly aſcribed by the Chriſtians to the wrath, of the Supreme Deity. The Nazarenes retired from the ruins of Jeruſalem to the little town of Pella beyond the Jordan, where that ancient church languiſhed above ſixty years in ſolitude and ob⯑ſcurity ¹⁹. They ſtill enjoyed the comfort of making frequent and devout viſits to the Holy City, and the hope of being one day reſtored to thoſe ſeats which both nature and religion taught them to love as well as to revere. But at length, under the reign of Hadrian, the deſperate fana⯑ticiſm of the Jews filled up the meaſure of their calamities; and the Romans, exaſperated by their repeated rebellions, exerciſed the rights of vic⯑tory with unuſual rigour. The emperor found⯑ed, [279] under the name of Aelia Capitolina, a new city on Mount Sion ²⁰, to which he gave the privileges of a colony; and denouncing the ſever⯑eſt penalties againſt any of the Jewiſh people who ſhould dare to approach its precincts, he fixed a vigilant garriſon of a Roman cohort to enforce the execution of his orders. The Nazarenes had only one way left to eſcape the common pro⯑ſcription, and the force of truth was on this occaſion aſſiſted by the influence of temporal advantages. They elected Marcus for their biſhop, a prelate of the race of the Gentiles, and moſt probably a native either of Italy or of ſome of the Latin provinces. At his perſuaſion, the moſt conſiderable part of the congregation renounced the Moſaic law, in the practice of which they had perſevered above a century. By this ſacrifice of their habits and prejudices, they purchaſed a free admiſſion into the colony of Hadrian, and more firmly cemented their union with the Catholic church ²¹.

When the name and honours of the church of The Ebio⯑nites. Jeruſalem had been reſtored to Mount Sion, the crimes of hereſy and ſchiſm were imputed to the obſcure remnant of the Nazarenes, which refuſed [280] to accompany their Latin biſhop. They ſtill preſerved their former habitation of Pella, ſpread themſelves into the villages adjacent to Damaſ⯑cus, and formed an inconſiderable church in the city of Boerea, or, as it is now called, of Alep⯑po, in Syria ²². The name of Nazarenes was deemed too honourable for thoſe Chriſtian Jews, and they ſoon received from the ſuppoſed poverty of their underſtanding, as well as of their condition, the contemptuous epithet of Ebio⯑nites ²³. In a few years after the return of the church of Jeruſalem, it became a matter of doubt and controverſy, whether a man who ſin⯑cerely acknowledged Jeſus as the Meſſiah, but who ſtill continued to obſerve the law of Moſes, could poſſibly hope for ſalvation. The humane temper of Juſtin Martyr inclined him to anſwer this queſtion in the affirmative; and though he expreſſed himſelf with the moſt guarded diffi⯑dence, he ventured to determine in favour of ſuch an imperfect Chriſtian, if he were content to practiſe the Moſaic ceremonies, without pre⯑tending [281] to aſſert their general uſe or neceſſity. But when Juſtin was preſſed to declare the ſen⯑timent of the church, he confeſſed that there were very many among the orthodox Chriſtians, who not only excluded their Judaiſing brethren from the hope of ſalvation, but who declined any intercourſe with them in the common offices of friendſhip, hoſpitality, and ſocial life ²⁴. The more rigorous opinion prevailed, as it was na⯑tural to expect, over the milder; and an eternal bar of ſeparation was fixed between the diſciples of Moſes and thoſe of Chriſt. The unfortunate Ebionites, rejected from one religion as apoſtates, and from the other as heretics, found themſelves compelled to aſſume a more decided character; and although ſome traces of that obſolete ſect may be diſcovered as late as the fourth century, they inſenſibly melted away either into the church or the ſynagogue ²⁵.

[282] While the orthodox church preſerved a juſt medium between exceſſive veneration and im⯑proper contempt for the law of Moſes, the vari⯑ous The Gno⯑ſtics. heretics deviated into equal but oppoſite extremes of error and extravagance. From the acknowledged truth of the Jewiſh religion, the Ebionites had concluded that it could never be aboliſhed. From its ſuppoſed imperfections the Gnoſtics as haſtily inferred that it never was in⯑ſtituted by the wiſdom of the Deity. There are ſome objections againſt the authority of Moſes and the prophets, which too readily preſent them⯑ſelves to the ſceptical mind; though they can only be derived from our ignorance of remote antiquity, and from our incapacity to form an adequate judgment of the divine oeconomy. Theſe objections were eagerly embraced and as petulantly urged by the vain ſcience of the Gno⯑ſtics ²⁶. As thoſe heretics were, for the moſt part, averſe to the pleaſures of ſenſe, they mo⯑roſely arraigned the polygamy of the patriarchs, the gallantries of David, and the ſeraglio of So⯑lomon. The conqueſt of the land of Canaan, and the extirpation of the unſuſpecting natives, they were at a loſs how to reconcile with the common notions of humanity and juſtice. But when they recollected the ſanguinary liſt of mur⯑ders, of executions, and of maſſacres, which ſtain almoſt every page of the Jewiſh annals, they [283] acknowledged that the barbarians of Paleſtine had exerciſed as much compaſſion towards their idolatrous enemies, as they had ever ſhewn to their friends or countrymen ²⁷. Paſſing from the ſectaries of the law to the law itſelf, they aſſerted that it was impoſſible that a religion which con⯑ſiſted only of bloody ſacrifices and trifling cere⯑monies, and whoſe rewards as well as puniſh⯑ments were all of a carnal and temporal nature, could inſpire the love of virtue, or reſtrain the impetuoſity of paſſion. The Moſaic account of the creation and fall of man was treated with profane deriſion by the Gnoſtics, who would not liſten with patience to the repoſe of the Deity after ſix days labour, to the rib of Adam, the garden of Eden, the trees of life and of knowledge, the ſpeaking ſerpent, the forbidden fruit, and the condemnation pronounced againſt human kind for the venal offence of their firſt progenitors ²⁸. The God of Iſrael was impiouſly repreſented by the Gnoſtics, as a being liable to paſſion and to error, capricious in his favour, implacable in his reſentment, meanly jealous of his ſuperſtitious worſhip, and confining his partial providence to a ſingle people, and to this tranſitory life. In ſuch a character they could diſcover none of the features of the wiſe and omnipotent father of the [284] univerſe ²⁹. They allowed that the religion of the Jews was ſomewhat leſs criminal than the idolatry of the Gentiles; but it was their fun⯑damental doctrine, that the Chriſt whom they adored as the firſt and brighteſt emanation of the Deity, appeared upon earth to reſcue mankind from their various errors, and to reveal a new ſyſtem of truth and perfection. The moſt learn⯑ed of the fathers, by a very ſingular condeſcen⯑ſion, have imprudently admitted the ſophiſtry of the Gnoſtics. Acknowledging that the literal ſenſe is repugnant to every principle of faith as well as reaſon, they deem themſelves ſecure and invulnerable behind the ample veil of allegory, which they carefully ſpread over every tender part of the Moſaic diſpenſation ³⁰.

It has been remarked with more ingenuity Their ſects, progreſs, and influence. than truth, that the virgin purity of the church was never violated by ſchiſm or hereſy before the reign of Trajan or Hadrian, about one hun⯑dred years after the death of Chriſt ³¹. We may obſerve with much more propriety, that, during that period, the diſciples of the Meſſiah were indulged in a freer latitude both of faith and practice, than has ever been allowed in ſucceed⯑ing [285] ages. As the terms of communion were inſenſibly narrowed, and the ſpiritual authority of the prevailing party was exerciſed with in⯑creaſing ſeverity, many of its moſt reſpectable adherents, who were called upon to renounce, were provoked to aſſert their private opinions, to purſue the conſequences of their miſtaken principles, and openly to erect the ſtandard of rebellion againſt the unity of the church. The Gnoſtics were diſtinguiſhed as the moſt polite, the moſt learned, and the moſt wealthy of the Chriſtian name, and that general appellation which expreſſed a ſuperiority of knowledge, was either aſſumed by their own pride, or ironically beſtowed by the envy of their adverſaries. They were almoſt without exception of the race of the Gentiles, and their principal founders ſeem to have been natives of Syria or Egypt, where the warmth of the climate diſpoſes both the mind and the body to indolent and contemplative de⯑votion. The Gnoſtics blended with the faith of Chriſt many ſublime but obſcure tenets, which they derived from oriental philoſophy, and even from the religion of Zoroaſter, concerning the eternity of matter, the exiſtence of two prin⯑ciples, and the myſterious hierarchy of the in⯑viſible world ³². As ſoon as they launched out into that vaſt abyſs, they delivered themſelves to the guidance of a diſordered imagination; and [286] as the paths of error are various and infinite, the Gnoſtics were imperceptibly divided into more than fifty particular ſects ³³, of whom the moſt celebrated appear to have been the Baſilidians, the Valentinians, the Marcionites, and, in a ſtill later period, the Manichaeans. Each of theſe ſects could boaſt of its biſhops and congrega⯑tions, of its doctors and martyrs ³⁴, and, inſtead of the four goſpels adopted by the church, the heretics produced a multitude of hiſtories, in which the actions and diſcourſes of Chriſt and of his apoſtles were adapted to their reſpective te⯑nets ³⁵. The ſucceſs of the Gnoſtics was rapid and extenſive ³⁶. They covered Aſia and Egypt, eſtabliſhed themſelves in Rome, and ſometimes [287] penetrated into the provinces of the Weſt. For the moſt part they aroſe in the ſecond century, flouriſhed during the third, and were ſuppreſſed in the fourth or fifth, by the prevalence of more faſhionable controverſies, and by the ſuperior aſcendant of the reigning power. Though they conſtantly diſturbed the peace, and frequently diſgraced the name, of religion, they contributed to aſſiſt rather than to retard the progreſs of Chriſtianity. The Gentile converts, whoſe ſtrong⯑eſt objections and prejudices were directed againſt the law of Moſes, could find admiſſion into many Chriſtian ſocieties, which required not from their untutored mind any belief of an antecedent revelation. Their faith was inſenſibly fortified and enlarged, and the church was ultimately be⯑nefited by the conqueſts of its moſt inveterate enemies ³⁷.

But whatever difference of opinion might ſub⯑ſiſt The dae⯑mons con⯑ſidered as the gods of antiquity. between the Orthodox, the Ebionites, and the Gnoſtics, concerning the divinity or the obli⯑gation of the Moſaic law, they were all equally animated by the ſame excluſive zeal, and by the ſame abhorrence for idolatry which had diſtin⯑guiſhed the Jews from the other nations of the ancient world. The philoſopher, who conſidered the ſyſtem of polytheiſm as a compoſition of human fraud and error, could diſguiſe a ſmile of contempt under the maſk of devotion, without [288] apprehending that either the mockery, or the compliance, would expoſe him to the reſentment of any inviſible, or, as he conceived them, ima⯑ginary powers. But the eſtabliſhed religions of Paganiſm were ſeen by the primitive Chriſtians in a much more odious and formidable light. It was the univerſal ſentiment both of the church and of heretics, that the daemons were the au⯑thors, the patrons, and the objects of idolatry ³⁸. Thoſe rebellious ſpirits who had been degraded from the rank of angels, and caſt down into the infernal pit, were ſtill permitted to roam upon earth, to torment the bodies, and to ſeduce the minds, of ſinful men. The daemons ſoon diſ⯑covered and abuſed the natural propenſity of the human heart towards devotion, and, artfully withdrawing the adoration of mankind from their Creator, they uſurped the place and honours of the Supreme Deity. By the ſucceſs of their malicious contrivances, they at once gratified their own vanity and revenge, and obtained the only comfort of which they were yet ſuſceptible, the hope of involving the human ſpecies in the par⯑ticipation of their guilt and miſery. It was con⯑feſſed, or at leaſt it was imagined, that they had diſtributed among themſelves the moſt import⯑ant characters of polytheiſm, one daemon aſſum⯑ing the name and attributes of Jupiter, an⯑other of Aeſculapius, a third of Venus, and a fourth perhaps of Apollo ³⁹; and that, by the [289] advantage of their long experience and aërial nature, they were enabled to execute, with ſuf⯑ficient ſkill and dignity, the parts which they had undertaken. They lurked in the temples, inſtituted feſtivals and ſacrifices, invented fables, pronounced oracles, and were frequently allowed to perform miracles. The Chriſtians, who, by the interpoſition of evil ſpirits, could ſo readily explain every praeternatural appearance, were diſpoſed and even deſirous to admit the moſt ex⯑travagant fictions of the Pagan mythology. But the belief of the Chriſtian was accompanied with horror. The moſt trifling mark of reſpect to the national worſhip he conſidered as a direct homage yielded to the daemon, and as an act of rebellion againſt the majeſty of God.

In conſequence of this opinion, it was the firſt Abhor⯑rence of the Chriſ⯑tians for idolatry. but arduous duty of a Chriſtian to preſerve him⯑ſelf pure and undefiled by the practice of ido⯑latry. The religion of the nations was not merely a ſpeculative doctrine profeſſed in the ſchools or preached in the temples. The innumerable deities and rites of polytheiſm were cloſely inter⯑woven with every circumſtance of buſineſs or pleaſure, of public or of private life; and it ſeemed impoſſible to eſcape the obſervance of them, without, at the ſame time, renouncing the commerce of mankind, and all the offices and amuſements of ſociety ⁴⁰. The important Ceremo⯑nies. [290] tranſactions of peace and war were prepared or concluded by ſolemn ſacrifices, in which the magiſtrate, the ſenator, and the ſoldier, were obliged to preſide or to participate ⁴¹. The public ſpectacles were an eſſential part of the cheerful devotion of the Pagans, and the gods were ſuppoſed to accept, as the moſt grateful offering, the games that the prince and people celebrated in honour of their peculiar feſtivals ⁴². The Chriſtian, who with pious horror avoided the abomination of the circus or the theatre, ſound himſelf encompaſſed with infernal ſnares in every convivial entertainment, as often as his friends, invoking the hoſpitable deities, poured out libations to each other's happineſs ⁴³. When the bride, ſtruggling with well-affected reluc⯑tance, was forced in hymenaeal pomp over the threſhold of her new habitation ⁴⁴, or when the [291] ſad proceſſion of the dead ſlowly moved towards the funeral pile ⁴⁵; the Chriſtian, on theſe inte⯑reſting occaſions, was compelled to deſert the perſons who were the deareſt to him, rather than contract the guilt inherent to thoſe impious ce⯑remonies. Every art and every trade that was Arts. in the leaſt concerned in the framing or adorning of idols was polluted by the ſtain of idolatry ⁴⁶; a ſevere ſentence, ſince it devoted to eternal mi⯑ſery the far greater part of the community, which is employed in the exerciſe of liberal or mechanic profeſſions. If we caſt our eyes over the numerous remains of antiquity, we ſhall per⯑ceive, that beſides the immediate repreſentations of the Gods, and the holy inſtruments of their worſhip, the elegant forms and agreeable fictions conſecrated by the imagination of the Greeks, were introduced as the richeſt ornaments of the houſes, the dreſs, and the furniture, of the Pa⯑gans ⁴⁷. Even the arts of muſic and painting, of eloquence and poetry, flowed from the ſame impure origin. In the ſtyle of the fathers, Apollo and the Muſes were the organs of the infernal ſpirit, Homer and Virgil were the moſt [292] eminent of his ſervants, and the beautiful my⯑thology which pervades and animates the com⯑poſitions of their genius, is deſtined to celebrate the glory of the daemons. Even the common language of Greece and Rome abounded with familiar but impious expreſſions, which the im⯑prudent Chriſtian might too careleſsly utter, or too patiently hear ⁴⁸.

The dangerous temptations which on every Feſtivals. ſide lurked in ambuſh to ſurpriſe the unguarded believer, aſſailed him with redoubled violence on the days of ſolemn feſtivals. So artfully were they framed and diſpoſed throughout the year, that ſuperſtition always wore the appearance of pleaſure, and often of virtue ⁴⁹. Some of the moſt ſacred feſtivals in the Roman ritual were deſtined to ſalute the new calends of January with vows of public and private felicity, to in⯑dulge the pious remembrance of the dead and living, to aſcertain the inviolable bounds of pro⯑perty, to hail, on the return of ſpring, the ge⯑nial powers of fecundity, to perpetuate the two memorable aeras of Rome, the foundation of the city, and that of the republic, and to reſtore, during the humane licenſe of the Saturnalia, the primitive equality of mankind. Some idea may [293] be conceived of the abhorrence of the Chriſtians for ſuch impious ceremonies, by the ſcrupulous delicacy which they diſplayed on a much leſs alarming occaſion. On days of general feſtivity, it was the cuſtom of the ancients to adorn their doors with lamps and with branches of laurel, and to crown their heads with a garland of flowers. This innocent and elegant practice might perhaps have been tolerated as a mere civil inſtitution. But it moſt unluckily happened that the doors were under the protection of the houſe⯑hold gods, that the laurel was ſacred to the lover of Daphne, and that garlands of flowers, though frequently worn as a ſymbol either of joy or mourning, had been dedicated in their firſt origin to the ſervice of ſuperſtition. The trembling Chriſtians, who were perſuaded in this inſtance to comply with the faſhion of their country, and the commands of the magiſtrate, laboured under the moſt gloomy apprehenſions, from the re⯑proaches of their own conſcience, the cenſures of the church, and the denunciations of divine vengeance ⁵⁰.

Such was the anxious diligence which was re⯑quired Zeal for Chriſtian⯑ity. to guard the chaſtity of the goſpel from the infectious breath of idolatry. The ſuperſti⯑tious [294] obſervances of public or private rites were careleſsly practiſed, from education and habit, by the followers of the eſtabliſhed religion. But as often as they occurred, they afforded the Chriſtians an opportunity of declaring and con⯑firming their zealous oppoſition. By theſe fre⯑quent proteſtations their attachment to the faith was continually fortified, and in proportion to the increaſe of zeal, they combated with the more ardour and ſucceſs in the holy war, which they had undertaken againſt the empire of the daemons.

II. The writings of Cicero ⁵¹ repreſent in the THE SE⯑COND CAUSE. The doc⯑trine of the im⯑mortality of the ſoul among the philoſo⯑phers; moſt lively colours the ignorance, the errors, and the uncertainty of the ancient philoſophers with regard to the immortality of the ſoul. When they are deſirous of arming their diſciples againſt the fear of death, they inculcate, as an obvious, though melancholy poſition, that the fatal ſtroke of our diſſolution releaſes us from the calamities of life; and that thoſe can no longer ſuffer who no longer exiſt. Yet there were a few ſages of Greece and Rome who had conceived a more exalted, and, in ſome reſpects, a juſter idea of human nature; though it muſt be con⯑feſſed, that, in the ſublime inquiry, their reaſon had been often guided by their imagination, and that their imagination had been prompted by [295] their vanity. When they viewed with compla⯑cency the extent of their own mental powers, when they exerciſed the various faculties of me⯑mory, of fancy, and of judgment, in the moſt profound ſpeculations, or the moſt important la⯑bours, and when they reflected on the deſire of ſame, which tranſported them into future ages, far beyond the bounds of death and of the grave; they were unwilling to confound themſelves with the beaſts of the field, or to ſuppoſe, that a be⯑ing, for whoſe dignity they entertained the moſt ſincere admiration, could be limited to a ſpot of earth, and to a few years of duration. With this favourable prepoſſeſſion they ſummoned to their aid the ſcience, or rather the language, of Metaphyſics. They ſoon diſcovered, that as none of the properties of matter will apply to the operations of the mind, the human ſoul muſt conſequently be a ſubſtance diſtinct from the body, pure, ſimple, and ſpiritual, incapable of diſſolution, and ſuſceptible of a much higher de⯑gree of virtue and happineſs after the releaſe from its corporeal priſon. From theſe ſpecious and noble principles, the philoſophers who trod in the footſteps of Plato, deduced a very unjuſ⯑tifiable concluſion, ſince they aſſerted, not only the future immortality, but the paſt eternity of the human ſoul, which they were too apt to con⯑ſider as a portion of the infinite and ſelf-exiſting ſpirit, which pervades and ſuſtains the univerſe ⁵². [296] A doctrine thus removed beyond the ſenſes and the experience of mankind, might ſerve to amuſe the leiſure of a philoſophic mind; or, in the ſilence of ſolitude, it might ſometimes impart a ray of comfort to deſponding virtue; but the faint impreſſion which had been received in the ſchools, was ſoon obliterated by the commerce and buſineſs of active life. We are ſufficiently acquainted with the eminent perſons who flou⯑riſhed in the age of Cicero, and of the firſt Cae⯑ſars, with their actions, their characters, and their motives, to be aſſured that their conduct in this life was never regulated by any ſerious conviction of the rewards or puniſhments of a future ſtate. At the bar and in the ſenate of Rome the ableſt orators were not apprehenſive of giving offence to their hearers, by expoſing that doctrine as an idle and extravagant opinion, which was rejected with contempt by every man of a liberal education and underſtanding ⁵³.

Since therefore the moſt ſublime efforts of phi⯑loſophy among the Pagans of Greece and Rome; can extend no farther than feebly to point out the deſire, the hope, or, at moſt, the probability, of a future ſtate, there is nothing, except a divine revelation, that can aſcertain the exiſtence, and deſcribe the condition of the invi⯑ſible country which is deſtined to receive the ſouls of men after their ſeparation from the body. [297] But we may perceive ſeveral defects inherent to the popular religions of Greece and Rome, which rendered them very unequal to ſo arduous a taſk. 1. The general ſyſtem of their mythology was unſupported by any ſolid proofs; and the wiſeſt among the Pagans had already diſclaimed its uſurped authority. 2. The deſcription of the infernal regions had been abandoned to the fancy of painters and of poets, who peopled them with ſo many phantoms and monſters, who diſpenſed their rewards and puniſhments with ſo little equity, that a ſolemn truth, the moſt congenial to the human heart, was oppreſſed and diſgraced by the abſurd mixture of the wildeſt fictions ⁵⁴. 3. The doctrine of a future ſtate was ſcarcely conſidered among the devout polytheiſts of Greece and Rome as a fundamental article of faith. The providence of the gods, as it related to public communities rather than to private in⯑dividuals, was principally diſplayed on the viſible theatre of the preſent world. The petitions which were offered on the altars of Jupiter or Apollo, expreſſed the anxiety of their worſhip⯑pers for temporal happineſs, and their ignorance or indifference concerning a future life ⁵⁵. The [298] important truth of the immortality of the ſoul was inculcated with more diligence as well as ſucceſs in India, in Aſſyria, in Egypt, and in Gaul; and ſince we cannot attribute ſuch a dif⯑ference among the barbari⯑ans; to the ſuperior knowledge of the barba⯑rians, we muſt aſcribe it to the influence of an eſtabliſhed prieſthood, which employed the mo⯑tives of virtue as the inſtrument of ambition ⁵⁶.

We might naturally expect, that a principle ſo among the Jews; eſſential to religion, would have been revealed in the cleareſt terms to the choſen people of Pa⯑leſtine, and that it might ſafely have been in⯑truſted to the hereditary prieſthood of Aaron. It is incumbent on us to adore the myſterious diſpenſations of Providence ⁵⁷, when we diſcover, that the doctrine of the immortality of the ſoul is omitted in the law of Moſes; it is darkly in⯑ſinuated by the prophets, and during the long period which elapſed between the Egyptian and the Babylonian ſervitudes, the hopes as well as fears of the Jews appear to have been confined [299] within the narrow compaſs of the preſent life ⁵⁸ After Cyrus had permitted the exiled nation to return into the promiſed land, and after Ezra had reſtored the ancient records of their religion, two celebrated ſects, the Sadducees and the Phariſees, inſenſibly aroſe at Jeruſalem ⁵⁹ The former ſe⯑lected from the more opulent and diſtinguiſhed ranks of ſociety, were ſtrictly attached to the literal ſenſe of the Moſaic law, and they piouſly rejected the immortality of the ſoul, as an opi⯑nion that received no countenance from the di⯑vine book, which they revered as the only rule of their faith. To the authority of ſcripture the Phariſees added that of tradition, and they ac⯑cepted, under the name of traditions, ſeveral ſpeculative tenets from the philoſophy or religion of the eaſtern nations. The doctrines of fate or predeſtination, of angels and ſpirits, and of a future ſtate of rewards and puniſhments, were in the number of theſe new articles of belief; and as the Phariſees, by the auſterity of their manners, had drawn into their party the body of the Jewiſh people, the immortality of the ſoul became the prevailing ſentiment of the ſyna⯑gogue, [300] under the reign of the Aſmonaean princes and pontiffs. The temper of the Jews was in⯑capable of contenting itſelf with ſuch a cold and languid aſſent as might ſatisfy the mind of a Polytheiſt; and as ſoon as they admitted the idea of a future ſtate, they embraced it with the zeal which has always formed the characteriſtic of the nation. Their zeal, however, added no⯑thing to its evidence, or even probability: and it was ſtill neceſſary, that the doctrine of life and immortality, which had been dictated by na⯑ture, approved by reaſon, and received by ſu⯑perſtition, ſhould obtain the ſanction of divine truth from the authority and example of Chriſt.

When the promiſe of eternal happineſs was among the Chriſtians. propoſed to mankind, on condition of adopting the faith, and of obſerving the precepts of the goſpel, it is no wonder that ſo advantageous an offer ſhould have been accepted by great num⯑bers of every religion, of every rank, and of every province in the Roman empire. The an⯑cient Chriſtians were animated by a contempt for their preſent exiſtence, and by a juſt confidence of immortality, of which the doubtful and im⯑perfect faith of modern ages cannot give us any adequate notion. In the primitive church, the influence of truth was very powerfully ſtrength⯑ened Approach⯑ing end of the world. by an opinion, which however it may de⯑ſerve reſpect for its uſefulneſs and antiquity, has not been found agreeable to experience. It was univerſally believed, that the end of the world and the kingdom of Heaven, were at hand. The near approach of this wonderful event had been predicted by the apoſtles; the tradition of [301] it was preſerved by their earlieſt diſciples, and thoſe who underſtood in their literal ſenſe the diſcourſes of Chriſt himſelf, were obliged to ex⯑pect the ſecond and glorious coming of the Son of Man in the clouds, before that generation was totally extinguiſhed, which had beheld his hum⯑ble condition upon earth, and which might ſtill be witneſs of the calamities of the Jews under Veſpaſian or Hadrian. The revolution of ſeven⯑teen centuries has inſtructed us not to preſs too cloſely the myſterious language of prophecy and revelation; but as long as, for wiſe purpoſes, this error was permitted to ſubſiſt in the church, it was productive of the moſt ſalutary effects on the faith and practice of Chriſtians, who lived in the awful expectation of that moment when the globe itſelf, and all the various race of man⯑kind, ſhould tremble at the appearance of their divine judge ⁶⁰.

The ancient and popular doctrine of the Mil⯑lennium Doctrine of the Mil⯑lennium. was intimately connected with the ſe⯑cond coming of Chriſt. As the works of the creation had been finiſhed in ſix days, their du⯑ration in their preſent ſtate, according to a tra⯑dition which was attributed to the prophet Eli⯑jah, was fixed to ſix thouſand years ⁶¹. By the [302] ſame analogy it was inferred, that this long pe⯑riod of labour and contention, which was now almoſt elapſed ⁶², would be ſucceeded by a joyful Sabbath of a thouſand years; and that Chriſt, with the triumphant band of the ſaints and the elect who had eſcaped death, or who had been miraculouſly revived, would reign upon earth till the time appointed for the laſt and general reſurrection. So pleaſing was this hope to the mind of believers, that the New Jeruſalem, the ſeat of this bliſsful kingdom, was quickly adorned with all the gayeſt colours of the imagination. A felicity conſiſting only of pure and ſpiritual pleaſure, would have appeared too refined for its inhabitants, who were ſtill ſuppoſed to poſſeſs their human nature and ſenſes. A garden of Eden, with the amuſements of the paſtoral life, was no longer ſuited to the advanced ſtate of ſociety which prevailed under the Roman em⯑pire. A city was therefore erected of gold and precious ſtones, and a ſupernatural plenty of corn and wine was beſtowed on the adjacent territory; in the free enjoyment of whoſe ſpon⯑taneous productions, the happy and benevolent [303] people was never to be reſtrained by any jealous laws of excluſive property ⁶³. The aſſurance of ſuch a Millennium, was carefully inculcated by a ſucceſſion of fathers from Juſtin Martyr ⁶⁴ and Irenaeus, who converſed with the immediate diſ⯑ciples of the apoſtles, down to Lactantius, who was preceptor to the ſon of Conſtantine ⁶⁵. Though it might not be univerſally received, it appears to have been the reigning ſentiment of the orthodox believers; and it ſeems ſo well adapted to the deſires and apprehenſions of man⯑kind, that it muſt have contributed in a very conſiderable degree to the progreſs of the Chriſ⯑tian faith. But when the edifice of the church was almoſt completed, the temporary ſupport was laid aſide. The doctrine of Chriſt's reign upon earth, was at firſt treated as a profound allegory, was conſidered by degrees as a doubt⯑ful and uſeleſs opinion, and was at length reject⯑ed as the abſurd invention of hereſy and fana⯑ticiſm ⁶⁶. [304] A myſterious prophecy, which ſtill forms a part of the ſacred canon, but which was thought to favour the exploded ſentiment, has very narrowly eſcaped the proſcription of the church ⁶⁷.

Whilſt the happineſs and glory of a temporal reign were promiſed to the diſciples of Chriſt, Conflagra⯑tion of Rome and of the world. the moſt dreadful calamities were denounced againſt an unbelieving world. The edification of the new Jeruſalem was to advance by equal ſteps with the deſtruction of the myſtic Babylon; and as long as the emperors who reigned before Conſtantine perſiſted in the profeſſion of idolatry, the epithet of Babylon was applied to the city and to the empire of Rome. A regular ſeries [305] was prepared of all the moral and phyſical evils which can afflict a flouriſhing nation; inteſtine diſcord, and the invaſion of the fierceſt barbari⯑ans from the unknown regions of the North; peſ⯑tilence and famine, comets and eclipſes, earth⯑quakes and inundations ⁶⁸. All theſe were only ſo many preparatory and alarming ſigns of the great cataſtrophe of Rome, when the country of the Scipios and Caeſars ſhould be conſumed by a flame from Heaven, and the city of the ſeven hills, with her palaces, her temples, and her tri⯑umphal arches, ſhould be buried in a vaſt lake of fire and brimſtone. It might, however, afford ſome conſolation to Roman vanity, that the pe⯑riod of their empire would be that of the world itſelf; which, as it had once periſhed by the element of water, was deſtined to experience a ſecond and ſpeedy deſtruction from the element of fire. In the opinion of a general conflagra⯑tion, the faith of the Chriſtian very happily coin⯑cided with the tradition of the Eaſt, the philo⯑ſophy of the Stoics, and the analogy of Nature; and even the country, which, from religious motives, had been choſen for the origin and principal ſcene of the conflagration, was the beſt adapted for that purpoſe by natural and phyſical cauſes; by its deep caverns, beds of ſulphur, and numerous volcanoes, of which thoſe of Aetna, of Veſuvius, and of Lipari, exhibit a very im⯑perfect repreſentation. The calmeſt and moſt [306] intrepid ſceptic could not refuſe to acknowledge, that the deſtruction of the preſent ſyſtem of the world by fire, was in itſelf extremely probable. The Chriſtian, who founded his belief much leſs on the fallacious arguments of reaſon than on the authority of tradition and the interpretation of ſcripture, expected it with terror and con⯑fidence as a certain and approaching event; and as his mind was perpetually filled with the ſolemn idea, he conſidered every diſaſter that happened to the empire as an infallible ſymptom of an expiring world ⁶⁹.

The condemnation of the wiſeſt and moſt vir⯑tuous The Pa⯑gans de⯑voted to eternal pu⯑niſhment. of the Pagans, on account of their igno⯑rance or diſbelief of the divine truth, ſeems to offend the reaſon and the humanity of the pre⯑ſent age ⁷⁰. But the primitive church, whoſe faith was of a much firmer conſiſtence, delivered over, without heſitation, to eternal torture, the far greater part of the human ſpecies. A cha⯑ritable [307] hope might perhaps be indulged in favour of Socrates, or ſome other ſages of antiquity, who had conſulted the light of reaſon before that of the goſpel had ariſen ⁷¹. But it was unani⯑mouſly affirmed, that thoſe who, ſince the birth or the death of Chriſt, had obſtinately perſiſted in the worſhip of the daemons, neither deſerved nor could expect a pardon from the irritated juſtice of the Deity. Theſe rigid ſentiments, which had been unknown to the ancient world, appear to have infuſed a ſpirit of bitterneſs into a ſyſtem of love and harmony. The ties of blood and friendſhip were frequently torn aſunder by the difference of religious faith; and the Chriſ⯑tians, who, in this world, found themſelves op⯑preſſed by the power of the Pagans, were ſome⯑times ſeduced by reſentment and ſpiritual pride to delight in the proſpect of their future triumph. ‘You are fond of ſpectacles, exclaims the ſtern Tertullian, expect the greateſt of all ſpec⯑tacles, the laſt and eternal judgment of the univerſe. How ſhall I admire, how laugh, how rejoice, how exult, when I behold ſo many proud monarchs, and fancied gods, groaning in the loweſt abyſs of darkneſs; ſo many magiſtrates who perſecuted the name of the Lord, liquefying in fiercer fires than they ever kindled againſt the Chriſtians; ſo many ſage philoſophers bluſhing in red hot flames [308] with their deluded ſcholars; ſo many cele⯑brated poets trembling before the tribunal, not of Minos, but of Chriſt; ſo many trage⯑dians, more tuneful in the expreſſion of their own ſufferings; ſo many dancers—.’ But the humanity of the reader will permit me to draw a veil over the reſt of this infernal deſcrip⯑tion, which the zealous African purſues in a long variety of affected and unfeeling witticiſms ⁷².

Doubtleſs there were many among the primi⯑tive Were of⯑ten con⯑verted by their fears. Chriſtians of a temper more ſuitable to the meekneſs and charity of their profeſſion. There were many who felt a ſincere compaſſion for the danger of their friends and countrymen, and who exerted the moſt benevolent zeal to ſave them from the impending deſtruction. The careleſs Polytheiſt, aſſailed by new and unexpected ter⯑rors, againſt which neither his prieſts nor his philoſophers could afford him any certain pro⯑tection, was very frequently terrified and ſub⯑dued by the menace of eternal tortures. His fears might aſſiſt the progreſs of his faith and reaſon; and if he could once perſuade himſelf to ſuſpect that the Chriſtian religion might poſſibly be true, it became an eaſy taſk to convince him [309] that it was the ſafeſt and moſt prudent party that he could poſſibly embrace.

III. The ſupernatural gifts, which even in this THE THIRD CAUSE. Miracu⯑lous pow⯑ers of the primitive church. life were aſcribed to the Chriſtians above the reſt of mankind, muſt have conduced to their own comfort, and very frequently to the con⯑viction of infidels. Beſides the occaſional pro⯑digies, which might ſometimes be effected by the immediate interpoſition of the Deity when he ſuſpended the laws of Nature for the ſervice of religion, the Chriſtian church, from the time of the apoſtles and their firſt diſciples ⁷³, has claim⯑ed an uninterrupted ſucceſſion of miraculous powers, the gift of tongues, of viſion and of prophecy, the power of expelling daemons, of healing the ſick, and of raiſing the dead. The knowledge of foreign languages was frequently communicated to the contemporaries of Irenaeus, though Irenaeus himſelf was left to ſtruggle with the difficulties of a barbarous dialect whilſt he preached the goſpel to the natives of Gaul ⁷⁴. The divine inſpiration, whether it was conveyed in the form of a waking or of a ſleeping viſion, is deſcribed as a favour very liberally beſtowed on all ranks of the faithful, on women as on elders, on boys as well as upon biſhops. When [310] their devout minds were ſufficiently prepared by a courſe of prayer, of faſting, and of vigils, to receive the extraordinary impulſe, they were tranſported out of their ſenſes, and delivered in extaſy what was inſpired, being mere organs of the holy ſpirit, juſt as a pipe or flute is of him who blows into it ⁷⁵. We may add, that the de⯑ſign of theſe viſions was, for the moſt part, either to diſcloſe the future hiſtory, or to guide the preſent adminiſtration of the church. The ex⯑pulſion of the daemons from the bodies of thoſe unhappy perſons whom they had been permitted to torment, was conſidered as a ſignal though ordinary triumph of religion, and is repeatedly alleged by the ancient apologiſts, as the moſt convincing evidence of the truth of Chriſtianity. The awful ceremony was uſually performed in a public manner, and in the preſence of a great number of ſpectators; the patient was relieved by the power or ſkill of the exorciſt, and the van⯑quiſhed daemon was heard to confeſs, that he was one of the fabled gods of antiquity, who had impiouſly uſurped the adoration of mankind ⁷⁶. But the miraculous cure of diſeaſes of the moſt inveterate or even preternatural kind, can no longer occaſion any ſurpriſe, when we recollect, [311] that in the days of Irenaeus, about the end of the ſecond century, the reſurrection of the dead was very far from being eſteemed an uncommon event; that the miracle was frequently perform⯑ed on neceſſary occaſions, by great faſting and the joint ſupplication of the church of the place, and that the perſons thus reſtored to their pray⯑ers, had lived afterwards among them many years ⁷⁷. At ſuch a period, when faith could boaſt of ſo many wonderful victories over death, it ſeems difficult to account for the ſcepticiſm of thoſe philoſophers, who ſtill rejected and derided the doctrine of the reſurrection. A noble Gre⯑cian had reſted on this important ground the whole controverſy, and promiſed Theophilus, biſhop of Antioch, that if he could be gratified with the ſight of a ſingle perſon who had been actually raiſed from the dead, he would imme⯑diately embrace the Chriſtian religion. It is ſomewhat remarkable, that the prelate of the firſt eaſtern church, however anxious for the conver⯑ſion of his friend, thought proper to decline this fair and reaſonable challenge ⁷⁸.

The miracles of the primitive church, after Their truth con⯑teſted. obtaining the ſanction of ages, have been lately attacked in a very free and ingenious inquiry ⁷⁹; [312] which, though it has met with the moſt favour⯑able reception from the Public, appears to have excited a general ſcandal among the divines of our own as well as of the other proteſtant churches of Europe ⁸⁰. Our different ſentiments on this ſubject will be much leſs influenced by any par⯑ticular arguments, than by our habits of ſtudy and reflection; and above all, by the degree of the evidence which we have accuſtomed ourſelves to require for the proof of a miraculous event. The duty of an hiſtorian does not call upon him Our per⯑plexity in defining the mira⯑culous pe⯑riod. to interpoſe his private judgment in this nice and important controverſy; but he ought not to diſ⯑ſemble the difficulty of adopting ſuch a theory as may reconcile the intereſt of religion with that of reaſon, of making a proper application of that theory, and of defining with preciſion the limits of that happy period exempt from error and from deceit, to which we might be diſpoſed to extend the gift of ſupernatural powers. From the firſt of the fathers to the laſt of the popes, a ſucceſſion of biſhops, of ſaints, of martyrs, and of miracles, is continued without interruption, and the pro⯑greſs of ſuperſtition was ſo gradual and almoſt imperceptible, that we know not in what par⯑ticular link we ſhould break the chain of tradi⯑tion. Every age bears teſtimony to the wonder⯑ful events by which it was diſtinguiſhed, and its teſtimony appears no leſs weighty and reſpectable [313] than that of the preceding generation, till we are inſenſibly led on to accuſe our own inconſiſtency, if in the eighth or in the twelfth century we deny to the venerable Bede, or to the holy Ber⯑nard, the ſame degree of confidence which, in the ſecond century, we had ſo liberally granted to Juſtin or to Irenaeus ⁸¹. If the truth of any of thoſe miracles is appreciated by their apparent uſe and propriety, every age had unbelievers to convince, heretics to confute, and idolatrous nations to convert; and ſufficient motives might always be produced to juſtify the interpoſition of Heaven. And yet ſince every friend to revela⯑tion is perſuaded of the reality, and every reaſon⯑able man is convinced of the ceſſation, of mira⯑culous powers, it is evident that there muſt have been ſome period in which they were either ſud⯑denly or gradually withdrawn from the Chriſtian church. Whatever aera is choſen for that pur⯑poſe, the death of the apoſtles, the converſion of the Roman empire, or the extinction of the Ari⯑an hereſy ⁸², the inſenſibility of the Chriſtians who lived at that time will equally afford a juſt matter of ſurpriſe. They ſtill ſupported their pretenſions after they had loſt their power. [314] Credulity performed the office of faith; fana⯑ticiſm was permitted to aſſume the language of inſpiration, and the effects of accident or con⯑trivance were aſcribed to ſupernatural cauſes. The recent experience of genuine miracles ſhould have inſtructed the Chriſtian world in the ways of Providence, and habituated their eye (if we may uſe a very inadequate expreſſion) to the ſtyle of the divine artiſt. Should the moſt ſkil⯑ful painter of modern Italy preſume to decorate his feeble imitations with the name of Raphael or of Correggio, the inſolent fraud would be ſoon diſcovered and indignantly rejected.

Whatever opinion may be entertained of the Uſe of the primitive miracles. miracles of the primitive church ſince the time of the apoſtles, this unreſiſting ſoftneſs of tem⯑per, ſo conſpicuous among the believers of the ſecond and third centuries, proved of ſome acci⯑dental benefit to the cauſe of truth and religion. In modern times, a latent and even involuntary ſcepticiſm adheres to the moſt pious diſpoſitions. Their admiſſion of ſupernatural truths is much leſs an active conſent, than a cold and paſſive acquieſcence. Accuſtomed long ſince to obſerve and to reſpect the invariable order of Nature, our reaſon, or at leaſt our imagination, is not ſufficiently prepared to ſuſtain the viſible action of the Deity. But, in the firſt ages of Chriſti⯑anity, the ſituation of mankind was extremely different. The moſt curious, or the moſt cre⯑dulous, among the Pagans, were often perſuad⯑ed to enter into a ſociety, which aſſerted an actual claim of miraculous powers. The primitive [315] Chriſtians perpetually trod on myſtic ground, and their minds were exerciſed by the habits of believing the moſt extraordinary events. They felt, or they fancied, that on every ſide they were inceſſantly aſſaulted by daemons, comforted by viſions, inſtructed by prophecy, and ſurpri⯑ſingly delivered from danger, ſickneſs, and from death itſelf, by the ſupplications of the church. The real or imaginary prodigies, of which they ſo frequently conceived themſelves to be the ob⯑jects, the inſtruments, or the ſpectators, very happily diſpoſed them to adopt with the ſame eaſe, but with far greater juſtice, the authentic wonders of the evangelic hiſtory; and thus mira⯑cles that exceeded not the meaſure of their own experience, inſpired them with the moſt lively aſſurance of myſteries which were acknowledged to ſurpaſs the limits of their underſtanding. It is this deep impreſſion of ſupernatural truths, which has been ſo much celebrated under the name of faith; a ſtate of mind deſcribed as the ſureſt pledge of the divine favour and of future felicity, and recommended as the firſt or per⯑haps the only merit of a Chriſtian. According to the more rigid doctors, the moral virtues, which may be equally practiſed by infidels, are deſtitute of any value or efficacy in the work of our juſtification.

IV. But the primitive Chriſtian demonſtrated THE FOURTH CAUSE. Virtues of the firſt Chriſtians. his faith by his virtues; and it was very juſtly ſuppoſed that the divine perſuaſion which en⯑lightened or ſubdued the underſtanding, muſt, at the ſame time, purify the heart and direct the [316] actions of the believer. The firſt apologiſts of Chriſtianity who juſtify the innocence of their brethren, and the writers of a later period who celebrate the ſanctity of their anceſtors, diſplay, in the moſt lively colours, the reformation of manners which was introduced into the world by the preaching of the goſpel. As it is my intention to remark only ſuch human cauſes as were permitted to ſecond the influence of reve⯑lation, I ſhall ſlightly mention two motives which might naturally render the lives of the primitive Chriſtians much purer and more auſtere than thoſe of their Pagan contemporaries, or their degenerate ſucceſſors; repentance for their paſt ſins, and the laudable deſire of ſupporting the reputation of the ſociety in which they were engaged.

It is a very ancient reproach, ſuggeſted by the Effects of their re⯑pentance. ignorance or the malice of infidelity, that the Chriſtians allured into their party the moſt atro⯑cious criminals, who, as ſoon as they were touch⯑ed by a ſenſe of remorſe, were eaſily perſuaded to waſh away, in the water of baptiſm, the guilt of their paſt conduct, for which the temples of the gods refuſed to grant them any expiation. But this reproach, when it is cleared from miſ⯑repreſentation, contributes as much to the ho⯑nour as it did to the increaſe of the church ⁸³. The friends of Chriſtianity may acknowledge without a bluſh, that many of the moſt eminent [317] ſaints had been before their baptiſm the moſt abandoned ſinners. Thoſe perſons, who in the world had followed, though in an imperfect man⯑ner, the dictates of benevolence and propriety, derived ſuch a calm ſatisfaction from the opinion of their own rectitude, as rendered them much leſs ſuſceptible of the ſudden emotions of ſhame, of grief, and of terror, which have given birth to ſo many wonderful converſions. After the example of their Divine Maſter, the miſſionaries of the goſpel diſdained not the ſociety of men, and eſpecially of women, oppreſſed by the con⯑ſciouſneſs, and very often by the effects, of their vices. As they emerged from ſin and ſuperſti⯑tion to the glorious hope of immortality, they reſolved to devote themſelves to a life, not only of virtue, but of penitence. The deſire of per⯑fection became the ruling paſſion of their ſoul; and it is well known, that while reaſon embraces a cold medicrity, our paſſions hurry us, with rapid violence, over the ſpace which lies between the moſt oppoſite extremes.

When the new converts had been enrolled in Care of their repu⯑tation. the number of the faithful, and were admitted to the ſacraments of the church, they found themſelves reſtrained from relapſing into their paſt diſorders by another conſideration of a leſs ſpiritual, but of a very innocent and reſpectable nature. Any particular ſociety that has departed from the great body of the nation, or the religion to which it belonged, immediately becomes the object of univerſal as well as invidious obſerva⯑tion. [318] In proportion to the ſmallneſs of its num⯑bers, the character of the ſociety may be affect⯑ed by the virtue and vices of the perſons who compoſe it; and every member is engaged to watch with the moſt vigilant attention over his own behaviour, and over that of his brethren, ſince, as he muſt expect to incur a part of the common diſgrace, he may hope to enjoy a ſhare of the common reputation. When the Chriſtians of Bithynia were brought before the tribunal of the younger Pliny, they aſſured the proconſul, that, far from being engaged in any unlawful conſpiracy, they were bound by a ſolemn obli⯑gation to abſtain from the commiſſion of thoſe crimes which diſturb the private or public peace of ſociety, from theft, robbery, adultery, per⯑jury, and fraud ⁸⁴. Near a century afterwards, Tertullian, with an honeſt pride, could boaſt, that very few Chriſtians had ſuffered by the hand of the executioner, except on account of their religion ⁸⁵. Their ſerious and ſequeſtered life, averſe to the gay luxury of the age, inured them to chaſtity, temperance, oeconomy, and all the ſober and domeſtic virtues. As the greater num⯑ber were of ſome trade or profeſſion, it was in⯑cumbent on them, by the ſtricteſt integrity and the faireſt dealing, to remove the ſuſpicions which the profane are too apt to conceive againſt the appearances of ſanctity. The contempt of the world exerciſed them in the habits of humi⯑lity, [319] meekneſs, and patience. The more they were perſecuted, the more cloſely they adhered to each other. Their mutual charity and unſuſ⯑pecting confidence has been remarked by infidels, and was too often abuſed by perfidious friends ⁸⁶.

It is a very honourable circumſtance for the Morality of the fa⯑thers. morals of the primitive Chriſtians, that even their faults, or rather errors, were derived from an exceſs of virtue. The biſhops and doctors of the church, whoſe evidence atteſts, and whoſe authority might influence, the profeſſions, the principles, and even the practice, of their con⯑temporaries, had ſtudied the ſcriptures with leſs ſkill than devotion, and they often received, in the moſt literal ſenſe, thoſe rigid precepts of Chriſt and the apoſtles, to which the prudence of ſucceeding commentators has applied a looſer and more figurative mode of interpretation. Ambitious to exalt the perfection of the goſpel above the wiſdom of philoſophy, the zealous fa⯑thers have carried the duties of ſelf-mortification, of purity, and of patience, to a height which it is ſcarcely poſſible to attain, and much leſs to preſerve, in our preſent ſtate of weakneſs and corruption. A doctrine ſo extraordinary and ſo ſublime muſt inevitably command the veneration of the people; but it was ill calculated to ob⯑tain the ſuffrage of thoſe worldly philoſophers, who, in the conduct of this tranſitory life, con⯑ſult [320] only the feelings of nature and the intereſt of ſociety ⁸⁷.

There are two very natural propenſities which Principles of human nature. we may diſtinguiſh in the moſt virtuous and liberal diſpoſitions, the love of pleaſure and the love of action. If the former is refined by art and learning, improved by the charms of ſocial intercourſe, and corrected by a juſt regard to oeconomy, to health, and to reputation, it is productive of the greateſt part of the happineſs of private life. The love of action is a principle of a much ſtronger and more doubtful nature. It often leads to anger, to ambition, and to re⯑venge; but when it is guided by the ſenſe of propriety and benevolence, it becomes the parent of every virtue; and if thoſe virtues are accom⯑panied with equal abilities, a family, a ſtate, or an empire, may be indebted for their ſafety and proſperity to the undaunted courage of a ſingle man. To the love of pleaſure we may therefore aſcribe moſt of the agreeable, to the love of action we may attribute moſt of the uſeful and reſpectable, qualifications. The character in which both the one and the other ſhould be united and harmoniſed, would ſeem to conſti⯑tute the moſt perfect idea of human nature. The inſenſible and inactive diſpoſition, which ſhould be ſuppoſed alike deſtitute of both, would be rejected, by the common conſent of mankind, as utterly incapable of procuring any happineſs [321] to the individual, or any public benefit to the world. But it was not in this world that the primitive Chriſtians were deſirous of making themſelves either agreeable or uſeful.

The acquiſition of knowledge, the exerciſe of The pri⯑mitive Chriſtians condemn pleaſure and lux⯑ury. our reaſon or fancy, and the cheerful flow of unguarded converſation, may employ the lei⯑ſure of a liberal mind. Such amuſements, how⯑ever, were rejected with abhorrence, or admit⯑ted with the utmoſt caution, by the ſeverity of the fathers, who deſpiſed all knowledge that was not uſeful to ſalvation, and who conſidered all levity of diſcourſe as a criminal abuſe of the gift of ſpeech. In our preſent ſtate of exiſtence, the body is ſo inſeparably connected with the ſoul, that it ſeems to be our intereſt to taſte, with innocence and moderation, the enjoyments of which that faithful companion is ſuſceptible. Very different was the reaſoning of our devout predeceſſors; vainly aſpiring to imitate the per⯑fection of angels, they diſdained, or they affected to diſdain, every earthly and corporeal delight ⁸⁸. Some of our ſenſes indeed are neceſſary for our preſervation, others for our ſubſiſtence, and others again for our information, and thus far it was impoſſible to reject the uſe of them. The firſt ſenſation of pleaſure was marked as the firſt moment of their abuſe. The unfeeling candidate for Heaven was inſtructed, not only to reſiſt the groſſer allurements of the taſte or ſmell, but even to ſhut his ears againſt the pro⯑fane [322] harmony of ſounds, and to view with in⯑difference the moſt finiſhed productions of human art. Gay apparel, magnificent houſes, and ele⯑gant furniture, were ſuppoſed to unite the dou⯑ble guilt of pride and of ſenſuality: a ſimple and mortified appearance was more ſuitable to the Chriſtian who was certain of his ſins and doubt⯑ful of his ſalvation. In their cenſures of luxury, the fathers are extremely minute and circum⯑ſtantial ⁸⁹; and among the various articles which excite their pious indignation, we may enume⯑rate falſe hair, garments of any colour except white, inſtruments of muſic, vaſes of gold or ſil⯑ver, downy pillows (as Jacob repoſed his head on a ſtone), white bread, foreign wines, public ſalutations, the uſe of warm baths, and the prac⯑tice of ſhaving the beard, which, according to the expreſſion of Tertullian, is a lie againſt our own faces, and an impious attempt to improve the works of the Creator ⁹⁰. When Chriſtianity was introduced among the rich and the polite, the obſervation of theſe ſingular laws was left, as it would be at preſent, to the few who were am⯑bitious of ſuperior ſanctity. But it is always eaſy, as well as agreeable, for the inferior ranks of mankind to claim a merit from the contempt of that pomp and pleaſure, which fortune has placed beyond their reach. The virtue of the [323] primitive Chriſtians, like that of the firſt Ro⯑mans, was very frequently guarded by poverty and ignorance.

The chaſte ſeverity of the fathers, in whatever Their ſen⯑timents concerning marriage and chaſti⯑ty. related to the commerce of the two ſexes, flow⯑ed from the ſame principle; their abhorrence of every enjoyment, which might gratify the ſen⯑ſual, and degrade the ſpiritual, nature of man. It was their favourite opinion, that if Adam had preſerved his obedience to the Creator, he would have lived for ever in a ſtate of virgin purity, and that ſome harmleſs mode of vegetation might have peopled paradiſe with a race of innocent and immortal beings ⁹¹. The uſe of marriage was permitted only to his fallen poſterity, as a neceſſary expedient to continue the human ſpe⯑cies, and as a reſtraint, however imperfect, on the natural licentiouſneſs of deſire. The heſita⯑tion of the orthodox caſuiſts on this intereſting ſubject, betrays the perplexity of men, unwilling to approve an inſtitution, which they were com⯑pelled to tolerate ⁹². The enumeration of the very whimſical laws, which they moſt circum⯑ſtantially impoſed on the marriage-bed, would force a ſmile from the young, and a bluſh from the fair. It was their unanimous ſentiment, that a firſt marriage was adequate to all the purpoſes of nature and of ſociety. The ſenſual connexion was refined into a reſemblance of the myſtic [324] union of Chriſt with his church, and was pro⯑nounced to be indiſſoluble either by divorce or by death. The practice of ſecond nuptials was branded with the name of a legal adultery; and the perſons who were guilty of ſo ſcandalous an offence againſt Chriſtian purity, were ſoon ex⯑cluded from the honours, and even from the alms, of the church ⁹³. Since deſire was im⯑puted as a crime, and marriage was tolerated as a defect, it was conſiſtent with the ſame prin⯑ciples to conſider a ſtate of celibacy as the near⯑eſt approach to the Divine perfection. It was with the utmoſt difficulty that ancient Rome could ſupport the inſtitution of ſix veſtals ⁹⁴; but the primitive church was filled with a great number of perſons of either ſex, who had de⯑voted themſelves to the profeſſion of perpetual chaſtity ⁹⁵. A few of theſe, among whom we may reckon the learned Origen, judged it the moſt prudent to diſarm the temper ⁹⁶. Some [325] were inſenſible and ſome were invincible againſt the aſſaults of the fleſh. Diſdaining an ignomi⯑nious flight, the virgins of the warm climate of Africa encountered the enemy in the cloſeſt en⯑gagement; they permitted prieſts and deacons to ſhare their bed, and gloried amidſt the flames in their unſullied purity. But inſulted Nature ſometimes vindicated her rights, and this new ſpecies of martyrdom ſerved only to introduce a new ſcandal into the church ⁹⁷. Among the Chriſtian aſcetics, however (a name which they ſoon acquired from their painful exerciſe), many, as they were leſs preſumptuous, were probably more ſucceſsful. The loſs of ſenſual pleaſure was ſupplied and compenſated by ſpiritual pride. Even the multitude of Pagans were inclined to eſtimate the merit of the ſacrifice by its apparent difficulty; and it was in the praiſe of theſe chaſte ſpouſes of Chriſt that the fathers have poured forth the troubled ſtream of their eloquence ⁹⁸. Such are the early traces of monaſtic principles and inſtitutions, which, in a ſubſequent age, have counterbalanced all the temporal advantages of Chriſtianity ⁹⁹.

[326] The Chriſtians were not leſs averſe to the bu⯑ſineſs than to the pleaſures of this world. The defence of our perſons and property they knew Their a⯑verſion to the buſi⯑neſs of war and go⯑vernment. not how to reconcile with the patient doctrine which enjoined an unlimited forgiveneſs of paſt injuries, and commanded them to invite the re⯑petition of freſh inſults. Their ſimplicity was offended by the uſe of oaths, by the pomp of magiſtracy, and by the active contention of pub⯑lic life, nor could their humane ignorance be convinced, that it was lawful on any occaſion to ſhed the blood of our fellow-creatures, either by the ſword of juſtice, or by that of war; even though their criminal or hoſtile attempts ſhould threaten the peace and ſafety of the whole com⯑munity ¹⁰⁰. It was acknowledged, that, under a leſs perfect law, the powers of the Jewiſh con⯑ſtitution had been exerciſed, with the approba⯑tion of Heaven, by inſpired prophets and by anointed kings. The Chriſtians felt and con⯑feſſed, that ſuch inſtitutions might be neceſſary for the preſent ſyſtem of the world, and they cheerfully ſubmitted to the authority of their Pagan governors. But while they inculcated the maxims of paſſive obedience, they refuſed to take any active part in the civil adminiſtration or the military defence of the empire. Some indul⯑gence might perhaps be allowed to thoſe perſons [327] who, before their converſion, were already en⯑gaged in ſuch violent and ſanguinary occupa⯑tions ¹⁰¹; but it was impoſſible that the Chriſ⯑tians, without renouncing a more ſacred duty, could aſſume the character of ſoldiers, of magiſ⯑trates, or of princes ¹⁰². This indolent, or even criminal diſregard to the public welfare, expoſed them to the contempt and reproaches of the Pa⯑gans, who very frequently aſked, what muſt be the fate of the empire, attacked on every ſide by the barbarians, if all mankind ſhould adopt the puſillanimous ſentiments of the new ſect ¹⁰³? To this inſulting queſtion the Chriſtian apolo⯑giſts returned obſcure and ambiguous anſwers, as they were unwilling to reveal the ſecret cauſe of their ſecurity; the expectation that, before the converſion of mankind was accompliſhed, war, government, the Roman empire, and the world itſelf, would be no more. It may be ob⯑ſerved, that, in this inſtance likewiſe, the ſitua⯑tion of the firſt Chriſtians coincided very hap⯑pily with their religious ſcruples, and that their averſion to an active life contributed rather to excuſe them from the ſervice, than to exclude them from the honours, of the ſtate and army.

[328] V. But the human character, however it may be exalted or depreſſed by a temporary enthu⯑ſiaſm, will return by degrees to its proper and THE FIFTH CAUSE. The Chriſ⯑tians ac⯑tive in the govern⯑ment of the church. natural level, and will reſume thoſe paſſions that ſeem the moſt adapted to its preſent condition. The primitive Chriſtians were dead to the buſi⯑neſs and pleaſures of the world; but their love of action, which could never be entirely extin⯑guiſhed, ſoon revived, and found a new occu⯑pation in the government of the church. A ſeparate ſociety, which attacked the eſtabliſhed religion of the empire, was obliged to adopt ſome form of internal policy, and to appoint a ſufficient number of miniſters, intruſted not only with the ſpiritual functions, but even with the temporal direction of the Chriſtian common⯑wealth. The ſafety of that ſociety, its honour, its aggrandiſement, were productive, even in the moſt pious minds, of a ſpirit of patriotiſm, ſuch as the firſt of the Romans had felt for the repub⯑lic, and ſometimes, of a ſimilar indifference, in the uſe of whatever means might probably con⯑duce to ſo deſirable an end. The ambition of raiſing themſelves or their friends to the honours and offices of the church, was diſguiſed by the laudable intention of devoting to the public benefit, the power and conſideration, which, for that purpoſe only, it became their duty to ſolicit. In the exerciſe of their functions, they were fre⯑quently called upon to detect the errors of hereſy, or the arts of faction, to oppoſe the deſigns of perfidious brethren, to ſtigmatize their charac⯑ters [329] with deſerved infamy, and to expel them from the boſom of a ſociety, whoſe peace and happineſs they had attempted to diſturb. The eccleſiaſtical governors of the Chriſtians were taught to unite the wiſdom of the ſerpent with the innocence of the dove; but as the former was refined, ſo the latter was inſenſibly corrupt⯑ed, by the habits of government. In the church as well as in the world, the perſons who were placed in any public ſtation rendered themſelves conſiderable by their eloquence and firmneſs, by their knowledge of mankind, and by their dex⯑terity in buſineſs; and while they concealed from others, and perhaps from themſelves, the ſecret motives of their conduct, they too frequently relapſed into all the turbulent paſſions of active life, which were tinctured with an additional de⯑gree of bitterneſs and obſtinacy from the infuſion of ſpiritual zeal.

The government of the church has often been Its primi⯑tive free⯑dom and equality. the ſubject as well as the prize of religious con⯑tention. The hoſtile diſputants of Rome, of Paris, of Oxford, and of Geneva, have alike ſtruggled to reduce the primitive and apoſtolic model ¹⁰⁴, to the reſpective ſtandards of their own policy. The few who have purſued this inquiry with more candour and impartiality, are of opi⯑nion ¹⁰⁵, [330] that the apoſtles declined the office of legiſlation, and rather choſe to endure ſome par⯑tial ſcandals and diviſions, than to exclude the Chriſtians of a future age from the liberty of varying their forms of eccleſiaſtical government according to the changes of times and circum⯑ſtances. The ſcheme of policy, which, under their approbation, was adopted for the uſe of the firſt century, may be diſcovered from the prac⯑tice of Jeruſalem, of Epheſus, or of Corinth. The ſocieties which were inſtituted in the cities of the Roman empire, were united only by the ties of faith and charity. Independence and equality formed the baſis of their internal con⯑ſtitution. The want of diſcipline and human learning was ſupplied by the occaſional aſſiſtance of the prophets ¹⁰⁶, who were called to that func⯑tion without diſtinction of age, of ſex, or of natural abilities, and who, as often as they felt the divine impulſe, poured forth the effuſions of the ſpirit in the aſſembly of the faithful. But theſe extraordinary gifts were frequently abuſed or miſapplied by the prophetic teachers. They diſplayed them at an improper ſeaſon, preſump⯑tuouſly diſturbed the ſervice of the aſſembly, and by their pride or miſtaken zeal they introduced, particularly into the apoſtolic church of Corinth, a long and melancholy train of diſorders ¹⁰⁷. [331] As the inſtitution of prophets became uſeleſs, and even pernicious, their powers were with⯑drawn, and their office aboliſhed. The public functions of religion were ſolely intruſted to the eſtabliſhed miniſters of the church, the biſhops and the preſbyters; two appellations which, in their firſt origin, appear to have diſtinguiſhed the ſame office and the ſame order of perſons. The name of Preſbyter was expreſſive of their age, or rather of their gravity and wiſdom. The title of Biſhop denoted their inſpection over the faith and manners of the Chriſtians who were committed to their paſtoral care. In proportion to the reſpective numbers of the faithful, a larger or ſmaller number of theſe epiſcopal preſbyters guided each infant congregation with equal au⯑thority, and with united counſels ¹⁰⁸.

But the moſt perfect equality of freedom re⯑quires Inſtitution of biſhops as preſi⯑dents of the college of preſby⯑ters. the directing hand of a ſuperior magiſtrate; and the order of public deliberations ſoon intro⯑duces the office of a preſident, inveſted at leaſt with the authority of collecting the ſentiments, and of executing the reſolutions, of the aſſembly. A regard for the public tranquillity, which would ſo frequently have been interrupted by annual or by occaſional elections, induced the primitive Chriſtians to conſtitute an honourable and per⯑petual magiſtracy, and to chooſe one of the wiſeſt and moſt holy among their preſbyters to execute, during his life, the duties of their eccleſiaſtical governor. It was under theſe circumſtances that [332] the lofty title of Biſhop began to raiſe itſelf above the humble appellation of preſbyter; and while the latter remained the moſt natural diſ⯑tinction for the members of every Chriſtian ſenate, the former was appropriated to the dig⯑nity of its new preſident ¹⁰⁹. The advantages of this epiſcopal form of government, which appears to have been introduced before the end of the firſt century ¹¹⁰, were ſo obvious, and ſo impor⯑tant for the future greatneſs, as well as the pre⯑ſent peace, of Chriſtianity, that it was adopted without delay by all the ſocieties which were already ſcattered over the empire, had acquired in a very early period the ſanction of antiquity ¹¹¹, and is ſtill revered by the moſt powerful churches, both of the Eaſt and of the Weſt, as a primitive and even as a divine eſtabliſhment ¹¹². It is needleſs to obſerve, that the pious and humble [333] preſbyters, who were firſt dignified with the epiſ⯑copal title, could not poſſeſs, and would proba⯑bly have rejected, the power and pomp which now encircles the tiara of the Roman pontiff, or the mitre of a German prelate. But we may define, in a few words, the narrow limits of their original juriſdiction, which was chiefly of a ſpi⯑ritual, though in ſome inſtances of a temporal, nature ¹¹³. It conſiſted in the adminiſtration of the ſacraments and diſcipline of the church, the ſuperintendency of religious ceremonies, which imperceptibly increaſed in number and variety, the conſecration of eccleſiaſtical miniſters, to whom the biſhop aſſigned their reſpective func⯑tions, the management of the public fund, and the determination of all ſuch differences as the faithful were unwilling to expoſe before the tri⯑bunal of an idolatrous judge. Theſe powers, during a ſhort period, were exerciſed according to the advice of the preſbyteral college, and with the conſent and approbation of the aſſembly of Chriſtians. The primitive biſhops were con⯑ſidered only as the firſt of their equals, and the honourable ſervants of a free people. Whenever the epiſcopal chair became vacant by death, a new preſident was choſen among the preſbyters by the ſuffrage of the whole congregation, every [334] member of which ſuppoſed himſelf inveſted with a ſacred and ſacerdotal character ¹¹⁴.

Such was the mild and equal conſtitution by Provincial councils. which the Chriſtians were governed more than an hundred years after the death of the apoſtles. Every ſociety formed within itſelf a ſeparate and independent republic: and although the moſt diſtant of theſe little ſtates maintained a mutual as well as friendly intercourſe of letters and depu⯑tations, the Chriſtian world was not yet connect⯑ed by any ſupreme authority or legiſlative aſſem⯑bly. As the numbers of the faithful were gra⯑dually multiplied, they diſcovered the advantages that might reſult from a cloſer union of their intereſt and deſigns. Towards the end of the ſecond century, the churches of Greece and Aſia adopted the uſeful inſtitutions of provincial ſy⯑nods, and they may juſtly be ſuppoſed to have borrowed the model of a repreſentative council from the celebrated examples of their own coun⯑try, the Amphictyons, the Achaean league, or the aſſemblies of the Ionian cities. It was ſoon eſtabliſhed as a cuſtom and as a law, that the biſhops of the independent churches ſhould meet in the capital of the province at the ſtated periods of ſpring and autumn. Their deliberations were aſſiſted by the advice of a few diſtinguiſhed preſbyters, and moderated by the preſence of a [335] liſtening multitude ¹¹⁵. Their decrees, which were ſtyled Canons, regulated every important controverſy of faith and diſcipline; and it was natural to believe that a liberal effuſion of the holy ſpirit would be poured on the united aſſem⯑bly of the delegates of the Chriſtian people. The inſtitution of ſynods was ſo well ſuited to private ambition and to public intereſt, that in the ſpace of a few years it was received through⯑out the whole empire. A regular correſpondence Union of the church. was eſtabliſhed between the provincial councils, which mutually communicated and approved their reſpective proceedings; and the catholic church ſoon aſſumed the form, and acquired the ſtrength, of a great ſoederative republic ¹¹⁶.

As the legiſlative authority of the particular Progreſs of epiſcopal authority. churches was inſenſibly ſuperſeded by the uſe of councils, the biſhops obtained by their alliance a much larger ſhare of executive and arbitrary power; and as ſoon as they were connected by a ſenſe of their common intereſt, they were ena⯑bled to attack, with united vigour, the original rights of their clergy and people. The prelates of the third century imperceptibly changed the language of exhortation into that of command, ſcattered the ſeeds of future uſurpations, and [336] ſupplied, by ſcripture allegories and declamatory rhetoric, their deficiency of force and of reaſon. They exalted the unity and power of the church, as it was repreſented in the EPISCOPAL OFFICE, of which every biſhop enjoyed an equal and un⯑divided portion ¹¹⁷. Princes and magiſtrates, it was often repeated, might boaſt an earthly claim to a tranſitory dominion: it was the epiſcopal authority alone which was derived from the deity, and extended itſelf over this and over another world. The biſhops were the vicegerents of Chriſt, the ſucceſſors of the apoſtles, and the myſtic ſubſtitutes of the high prieſt of the Mo⯑ſaic law. Their excluſive privilege of confer⯑ring the ſacerdotal character, invaded the freedom both of clerical and of popular elections; and if, in the adminiſtration of the church, they ſtill conſulted the judgment of the preſbyters, or the inclination of the people, they moſt carefully in⯑culcated the merit of ſuch a voluntary conde⯑ſcenſion. The biſhops acknowledged the ſupreme authority which reſided in the aſſembly of their brethren; but in the government of his peculiar dioceſe, each of them exacted from his flock the ſame implicit obedience as if that favourite me⯑taphor had been literally juſt, and as if the ſhep⯑herd had been of a more exalted nature than that of his ſheep ¹¹⁸. This obedience, however, [337] was not impoſed without ſome efforts on one ſide, and ſome reſiſtance on the other. The de⯑mocratical part of the conſtitution was, in many places, very warmly ſupported by the zealous or intereſted oppoſition of the inferior clergy. But their patriotiſm received the ignominious epi⯑thets of faction and ſchiſm; and the epiſcopal cauſe was indebted for its rapid progreſs to the labours of many active prelates, who, like Cy⯑prian of Carthage, could reconcile the arts of the moſt ambitious ſtateſman with the Chriſtian virtues which ſeem adapted to the character of a ſaint and martyr ¹¹⁹.

The ſame cauſes which at firſt had deſtroyed Pre-emi⯑nence of the metro⯑politan churches. the equality of the preſbyters, introduced among the biſhops a pre-eminence of rank, and from thence a ſuperiority of juriſdiction. As often as in the ſpring and autumn they met in provincial ſynod, the difference of perſonal merit and re⯑putation was very ſenſibly felt among the mem⯑bers of the aſſembly, and the multitude was go⯑verned by the wiſdom and eloquence of the few. But the order of public proceedings required a more regular and leſs invidious diſtinction; the office of perpetual preſidents in the councils of each province, was conferred on the biſhops of the principal city, and theſe aſpiring prelates, who ſoon acquired the lofty titles of Metropo⯑litans [338] and Primates, ſecretly prepared themſelves to uſurp over their epiſcopal brethren the ſame authority which the biſhops had ſo lately aſſumed above the college of preſbyters ¹²⁰. Nor was it long before an emulation of pre-eminence and power prevailed among the metropolitans them⯑ſelves, each of them affecting to diſplay, in the moſt pompous terms, the temporal honours and advantages of the city over which he preſided; the numbers and opulence of the Chriſtians, who were ſubject to their paſtoral care; the ſaints and martyrs who had ariſen among them, and the purity with which they preſerved the tradition of the faith, as it had been tranſmitted through a ſeries of orthodox biſhops from the apoſtle or the apoſtolic diſciple, to whom the foundation of their church was aſcribed ¹²¹. From every cauſe either of a civil or of an eccleſiaſtical nature, it was eaſy to foreſee that Rome muſt enjoy the reſpect, and would ſoon claim the obedience, of the provinces. The ſociety of the faithful Ambition of the Roman pontiff. bore a juſt proportion to the capital of the em⯑pire; and the Roman church was the greateſt, the moſt numerous, and, in regard to the Weſt, the moſt ancient of all the Chriſtian eſtabliſh⯑ments, many of which had received their reli⯑gion from the pious labours of her miſſionaries. Inſtead of one apoſtolic founder, the utmoſt boaſt [339] of Antioch, of Epheſus, or of Corinth, the banks of the Tyber were ſuppoſed to have been honoured with the preaching and martyrdom of the two moſt eminent among the apoſtles ¹²²; and the biſhops of Rome very prudently claimed the inheritance of whatſoever prerogatives were attributed either to the perſon or to the office of St. Peter ¹²³. The biſhops of Italy and of the provinces were diſpoſed to allow them a primacy of order and aſſociation (ſuch was their very accurate expreſſion) in the Chriſtian ariſto⯑cracy ¹²⁴. But the power of a monarch was re⯑jected with abhorrence, and the aſpiring genius of Rome experienced from the nations of Aſia and Africa, a more vigorous reſiſtance to her ſpiritual, than ſhe had formerly done to her tem⯑poral, dominion. The patriotic Cyprian, who ruled with the moſt abſolute ſway the church of Carthage and the provincial ſynods, oppoſed [340] with reſolution and ſucceſs the ambition of the Roman pontiff, artfully connected his own cauſe with that of the eaſtern biſhops, and, like Han⯑nibal, ſought out new allies in the heart of Aſia ¹²⁵. If this Punic war was carried on with⯑out any effuſion of blood, it was owing much leſs to the moderation than to the weakneſs of the contending prelates. Invectives and excom⯑munications were their only weapons; and theſe, during the progreſs of the whole controverſy, they hurled againſt each other with equal fury and devotion. The hard neceſſity of cenſuring either a pope, or a ſaint and martyr, diſtreſſes the modern catholics, whenever they are obliged to relate the particulars of a diſpute, in which the champions of religion indulged ſuch paſſions as ſeem much more adapted to the ſenate or to the camp ¹²⁶.

The progreſs of the eccleſiaſtical authority Laity and clergy. gave birth to the memorable diſtinction of the laity and of the clergy, which had been unknown to the Greeks and Romans ¹²⁷. The former of theſe appellations comprehended the body of the Chriſtian people; the latter, according to the ſignification of the word, was appropriated to the choſen portion that had been ſet apart for [341] the ſervice of religion; a celebrated order of men which has furniſhed the moſt important, though not always the moſt edifying, ſubjects for modern hiſtory. Their mutual hoſtilities ſometimes diſturbed the peace of the infant church, but their zeal and activity were united in the common cauſe, and the love of power, which (under the moſt artful diſguiſes) could inſinuate itſelf into the breaſts of biſhops and martyrs, animated them to increaſe the number of their ſubjects, and to enlarge the limits of the Chriſtian empire. They were deſtitute of any temporal force, and they were for a long time diſcouraged and oppreſſed, rather than aſ⯑ſiſted, by the civil magiſtrate; but they had ac⯑quired, and they employed within their own ſociety, the two moſt efficacious inſtruments of government, rewards and puniſhments; the for⯑mer derived from the pious liberality, the latter from the devout apprehenſions, of the faithful.

1. The community of goods, which had ſo Oblations and reve⯑nue of the church. agreeably amuſed the imagination of Plato ¹²⁸, and which ſubſiſted in ſome degree among the auſtere ſect of the Eſſenians ¹²⁹, was adopted for a ſhort time in the primitive church. The fer⯑vour of the firſt proſelytes prompted them to ſell thoſe worldly poſſeſſions, which they de⯑ſpiſed, [342] to lay the price of them at the feet of the apoſtles, and to content themſelves with re⯑ceiving an equal ſhare out of the general diſtribu⯑tion ¹³⁰. The progreſs of the Chriſtian religion relaxed, and gradually aboliſhed this generous inſtitution, which, in hands leſs pure than thoſe of the apoſtles, would too ſoon have been cor⯑rupted and abuſed by the returning ſelfiſhneſs of human nature; and the converts who embraced the new religion were permitted to retain the poſſeſſion of their patrimony, to receive legacies and inheritances, and to increaſe their ſeparate property by all the lawful means of trade and induſtry. Inſtead of an abſolute ſacrifice, a moderate proportion was accepted by the mi⯑niſters of the goſpel; and in their weekly or monthly aſſemblies, every believer, according to the exigency of the occaſion, and the meaſure of his wealth and piety, preſented his voluntary offering for the uſe of the common fund ¹³¹. Nothing, however inconſiderable, was refuſed; but it was diligently inculcated, that, in the article of Tythes, the Moſaic law was ſtill of divine obligation; and that ſince the Jews, under a leſs perfect diſcipline, had been commanded to pay a tenth part of all that they poſſeſſed, it would become the diſciples of Chriſt to diſtin⯑guiſh themſelves by a ſuperior degree of libe⯑rality ¹³², [343] and to acquire ſome merit by reſign⯑ing a ſuperfluous treaſure, which muſt ſo ſoon be annihilated with the world itſelf ¹³³. It is almoſt unneceſſary to obſerve, that the revenue of each particular church, which was of ſo un⯑certain and fluctuating a nature, muſt have varied with the poverty or the opulence of the faithful, as they were diſperſed in obſcure villages, or collected in the great cities of the empire. In the time of the emperor Decius, it was the opi⯑nion of the magiſtrates, that the Chriſtians of Rome were poſſeſſed of very conſiderable wealth; that veſſels of gold and ſilver were uſed in their religious worſhip, and that many among their proſelytes had ſold their lands and houſes to increaſe the public riches of the ſect, at the expence, indeed, of their unfortunate children, who found themſelves beggars, becauſe their parents had been ſaints ¹³⁴. We ſhould liſten [344] with diſtruſt to the ſuſpicions of ſtrangers and enemies: on this occaſion, however, they receive a very ſpecious and probable colour from the two following circumſtances, the only ones that have reached our knowledge, which define any preciſe ſums, or convey any diſtinct idea. Al⯑moſt at the ſame period, the biſhop of Carthage, from a ſociety leſs opulent than that of Rome, collected an hundred thouſand ſeſterces (above eight hundred and fifty pounds ſterling), on a ſudden call of charity to redeem the brethren of Numidia, who had been carried away captives by the barbarians of the deſert ¹³⁵. About an hundred years before the reign of Decius, the Roman church had received, in a ſingle dona⯑tion, the ſum of two hundred thouſand ſeſterces from a ſtranger of Pontus, who propoſed to fix his reſidence in the capital ¹³⁶. Theſe oblations, for the moſt part, were made in money; nor [345] was the ſociety of Chriſtians either deſirous or capable of acquiring, to any conſiderable degree, the incumbrance of landed property. It had been provided by ſeveral laws, which were enacted with the ſame deſign as our ſtatutes of mortmain, that no real eſtates ſhould be given or bequeathed to any corporate body, without either a ſpecial privilege or a particular diſpenſation from the emperor or from the ſenate ¹³⁷; who were ſeldom diſpoſed to grant them in favour of a ſect, at firſt the object of their contempt, and at laſt of their fears and jealouſy. A tranſaction however is related under the reign of Alexander Severus, which diſcovers that the reſtraint was ſometimes eluded or ſuſpended, and that the Chriſtians were permitted to claim and to poſſeſs lands within the limits of Rome itſelf ¹³⁸. The progreſs of Chriſtianity, and the civil confuſion of the empire, contributed to relax the ſeverity of the laws, and before the cloſe of the third century many conſiderable eſtates were beſtowed on the opulent churches of Rome, Milan, Car⯑thage, Antioch, Alexandria, and the other great cities of Italy and the provinces.

The biſhop was the natural ſteward of the Diſtribu⯑tion of the revenue. church; the public ſtock was intruſted to his [346] care without account or controul; the preſbyters were confined to their ſpiritual functions, and the more dependent order of deacons was ſolely employed in the management and diſtribution of the eccleſiaſtical revenue ¹³⁹. If we may give credit to the vehement declamations of Cyprian, there were too many among his African brethren, who, in the execution of their charge, violated every precept, not only of evangelic perfection, but even of moral virtue. By ſome of theſe un⯑faithful ſtewards the riches of the church were laviſhed in ſenſual pleaſures, by others they were perverted to the purpoſes of private gain, of fraudulent purchaſes, and of rapacious uſury ¹⁴⁰. But as long as the contributions of the Chriſtian people were free and unconſtrained, the abuſe of their confidence could not be very frequent, and the general uſes to which their liberality was applied, reflected honour on the religious ſociety. A decent portion was reſerved for the mainte⯑nance of the biſhop and his clergy; a ſufficient ſum was allotted for the expences of the public worſhip, of which the feaſts of love, the agapae, as they were called, conſtituted a very pleaſing part. The whole remainder was the ſacred pa⯑trimony of the poor. According to the diſcre⯑tion of the biſhop, it was diſtributed to ſupport widows and orphans, the lame, the ſick, and the aged of the community; to comfort ſtrangers and pilgrims, and to alleviate the misfortunes of [347] priſoners and captives, more eſpecially when their ſufferings had been occaſioned by their firm attachment to the cauſe of religion ¹⁴¹. A ge⯑nerous intercourſe of charity united the moſt diſtant provinces, and the ſmaller congregations were cheerfully aſſiſted by the alms of their more opulent brethren ¹⁴². Such an inſtitution, which paid leſs regard to the merit than to the diſtreſs of the object, very materially conduced to the progreſs of Chriſtianity. The Pagans, who were actuated by a ſenſe of humanity, while they de⯑rided the doctrines, acknowledged the benevo⯑lence, of the new ſect ¹⁴³. The proſpect of im⯑mediate relief and of future protection allured into its hoſpitable boſom many of thoſe unhappy perſons whom the neglect of the world would have abandoned to the miſeries of want, of ſick⯑neſs, and of old age. There is ſome reaſon like⯑wiſe to believe, that great numbers of infants, who, according to the inhuman practice of the times, had been expoſed by their parents, were frequently reſcued from death, baptiſed, edu⯑cated, and maintained by the piety of the Chriſ⯑tians, and at the expence of the public trea⯑ſure ¹⁴⁴.

[348] II. It is the undoubted right of every ſociety to exclude from its communion and benefits, ſuch among its members as reject or violate thoſe Excom⯑munica⯑tion. regulations which have been eſtabliſhed by ge⯑neral conſent. In the exerciſe of this power, the cenſures of the Chriſtian church were chiefly directed againſt ſcandalous ſinners, and particu⯑larly thoſe who were guilty of murder, of fraud, or of incontinence; againſt the authors, or the followers of any heretical opinions which had been condemned by the judgment of the epiſco⯑pal order; and againſt thoſe unhappy perſons, who, whether from choice or from compulſion, had polluted themſelves after their baptiſm by any act of idolatrous worſhip. The conſequences of excommunication were of a temporal as well as a ſpiritual nature. The Chriſtian againſt whom it was pronounced, was deprived of any part in the oblations of the faithful. The ties both of religious and of private friendſhip were diſſolved: he found himſelf a profane object of abhorrence to the perſons whom he the moſt eſteemed, or by whom he had been the moſt tenderly beloved; and as far as an expulſion from a reſpectable ſociety could imprint on his character a mark of diſgrace, he was ſhunned or ſuſpected by the generality of mankind. The ſituation of theſe unfortunate exiles was in itſelf very painful and melancholy; but, as it uſually happens, their apprehenſions far exceeded their [349] ſufferings. The benefits of the Chriſtian com⯑munion were thoſe of eternal life, nor could they eraſe from their minds the awful opinion, that to thoſe eccleſiaſtical governors by whom they were condemned, the Deity had committed the keys of Hell and of Paradiſe. The heretics, in⯑deed, who might be ſupported by the conſciouſ⯑neſs of their intentions, and by the flattering hope that they alone had diſcovered the true path of ſalvation, endeavoured to regain, in their ſeparate aſſemblies, thoſe comforts, temporal as well as ſpiritual, which they no longer derived from the great ſociety of Chriſtians. But almoſt all thoſe who had reluctantly yielded to the power of vice or idolatry, were ſenſible of their fallen condition, and anxiouſly deſirous of being re⯑ſtored to the benefits of the Chriſtian commu⯑nion.

With regard to the treatment of theſe penitents, two oppoſite opinions, the one of juſtice, the other of mercy, divided the primitive church. The more rigid and inflexible caſuiſts refuſed them for ever, and without exception, the meaneſt place in the holy community, which they had diſgraced or deſerted, and leaving them to the remorſe of a guilty conſcience, indulged them only with a faint ray of hope, that the contrition of their life and death might poſſibly be accepted by the Supreme Being ¹⁴⁵. A milder [350] ſentiment was embraced in practice as well as in theory, by the pureſt and moſt reſpectable of the Chriſtian churches ¹⁴⁶. The gates of reconcilia⯑tion and of Heaven were ſeldom ſhut againſt the returning penitent; but a ſevere and ſolemn form of diſcipline was inſtituted, which, while it ſerved to expiate his crime, might powerfully deter the ſpectators from the imitation of his example. Humbled by a public confeſſion, emaciated by Public pe⯑nance. faſting, and clothed in ſackcloth, the penitent lay proſtrate at the door of the aſſembly, im⯑ploring with tears the pardon of his offences, and ſoliciting the prayers of the faithful ¹⁴⁷. If the fault was of a very heinous nature, whole years of penance were eſteemed an inadequate ſatisfaction to the Divine Juſtice; and it was al⯑ways by ſlow and painful gradations that the ſinner, the heretic, or the apoſtate, was re-ad⯑mitted into the boſom of the church. A ſen⯑tence of perpetual excommunication was, how⯑ever, reſerved for ſome crimes of an extraordi⯑nary magnitude, and particularly for the inex⯑cuſable relapſes of thoſe penitents who had al⯑ready experienced and abuſed the clemency of their eccleſiaſtical ſuperiors. According to the circumſtances or the number of the guilty, the exerciſe of the Chriſtian diſcipline was varied by the diſcretion of the biſhops. The councils of Ancyra and Illiberis were held about the ſame [351] time, the one in Galatia, the other in Spain; but their reſpective canons, which are ſtill ex⯑tant, ſeem to breathe a very different ſpirit. The Galatian, who after his baptiſm had repeat⯑edly ſacrificed to idols, might obtain his pardon by a penance of ſeven years, and if he had ſe⯑duced others to imitate his example, only three years more were added to the term of his exile. But the unhappy Spaniard, who had committed the ſame offence, was deprived of the hope of reconciliation, even in the article of death; and his idolatry was placed at the head of a liſt of ſeventeen other crimes, againſt which a ſentence no leſs terrible was pronounced. Among theſe we may diſtinguiſh the inexpiable guilt of calum⯑niating a biſhop, a preſbyter, or even a dea⯑con ¹⁴⁸.

The well-tempered mixture of liberality and rigour, the judicious diſpenſation of rewards and The dig⯑nity of epiſcopal govern⯑ment. puniſhments, according to the maxims of policy as well as juſtice, conſtituted the human ſtrength of the church. The biſhops, whoſe paternal care extended itſelf to the government of both worlds, were ſenſible of the importance of theſe prerogatives, and covering their ambition with the fair pretence of the love of order, they were jealous of any rival in the exerciſe of a diſcipline [352] ſo neceſſary to prevent the deſertion of thoſe troops which had inliſted themſelves under the banner of the croſs, and whoſe numbers every day became more conſiderable. From the im⯑perious declamations of Cyprian, we ſhould na⯑turally conclude, that the doctrines of excom⯑munication and penance formed the moſt eſſen⯑tial part of religion; and that it was much leſs dangerous for the diſciples of Chriſt to neglect the obſervance of the moral duties, than to de⯑ſpiſe the cenſures and authority of their biſhops. Sometimes we might imagine that we were liſten⯑ing to the voice of Moſes, when he commanded the earth to open, and to ſwallow up, in con⯑ſuming flames, the rebellious race which refuſed obedience to the prieſthood of Aaron; and we ſhould ſometimes ſuppoſe that we heard a Roman conſul aſſerting the majeſty of the republic, and declaring his inflexible reſolution to enforce the rigour of the laws. ‘If ſuch irregularities are ſuffered with impunity (it is thus that the bi⯑ſhop of Carthage chides the lenity of his col⯑league), if ſuch irregularities are ſuffered, there is an end of EPISCOPAL VIGOUR ¹⁴⁹; an end of the ſublime and divine power of go⯑verning the church, an end of Chriſtianity itſelf.’ Cyprian had renounced thoſe tempo⯑ral honours, which it is probable he would never have obtained; but the acquiſition of ſuch ab⯑ſolute command over the conſciences and under⯑ſtanding of a congregation, however obſcure or [353] deſpiſed by the world, is more truly grateful to the pride of the human heart, than the poſſeſſion of the moſt deſpotic power, impoſed by arms and conqueſt on a reluctant people.

In the courſe of this important, though per⯑haps Recapitu⯑lation of the five cauſes. tedious, inquiry, I have attempted to diſ⯑play the ſecondary cauſes which ſo efficaciouſly aſſiſted the truth of the Chriſtian religion. If among theſe cauſes we have diſcovered any ar⯑tificial ornaments, any accidental circumſtances, or any mixture of error and paſſion, it cannot appear ſurpriſing that mankind ſhould be the moſt ſenſibly affected by ſuch motives as were ſuited to their imperfect nature. It was by the aid of theſe cauſes, excluſive zeal, the immedi⯑ate expectation of another world, the claim of miracles, the practice of rigid virtue, and the conſtitution of the primitive church, that Chriſ⯑tianity ſpread itſelf with ſo much ſucceſs in the Roman empire. To the firſt of theſe the Chriſ⯑tians were indebted for their invincible valour, which diſdained to capitulate with the enemy whom they were reſolved to vanquiſh. The three ſucceeding cauſes ſupplied their valour with the moſt formidable arms. The laſt of theſe cauſes united their courage, directed their arms, and gave their efforts that irreſiſtible weight, which even a ſmall band of well-trained and intrepid volunteers has ſo often poſſeſſed over an undiſciplined multitude, ignorant of the ſubject, and careleſs of the event of the war. In the various religions of Polytheiſm, ſome Weakneſs of polythe⯑iſm. [354] wandering fanatics of Egypt and Syria, who ad⯑dreſſed themſelves to the credulous ſuperſtition of the populace, were perhaps the only order of prieſts ¹⁵⁰ that derived their whole ſupport and credit from their ſacerdotal profeſſion, and were very deeply affected by a perſonal concern for the ſafety or proſperity of their tutelar deities. The miniſters of polytheiſm, both in Rome and in the provinces, were, for the moſt part, men of a noble birth, and of an affluent fortune, who received, as an honourable diſtinction, the care of a celebrated temple, or of a public ſacrifice, exhibited, very frequently at their own expence, the ſacred games ¹⁵¹, and with cold indifference performed the ancient rites, according to the laws and faſhion of their country. As they were engaged in the ordinary occupations of life, their zeal and devotion were ſeldom animated by a ſenſe of intereſt, or by the habits of an eccleſi⯑aſtical character. Confined to their reſpective temples and cities, they remained without any connexion of diſcipline or government; and whilſt they acknowledged the ſupreme juriſdic⯑tion of the ſenate, of the college of pontiffs, and [355] of the emperor, thoſe civil magiſtrates contented themſelves with the eaſy taſk of maintaining, in peace and dignity, the general worſhip of man⯑kind. We have already ſeen how various, how looſe, and how uncertain were the religious ſen⯑timents of Polytheiſts. They were abandoned, almoſt without controul, to the natural workings of a ſuperſtitious fancy. The accidental circum⯑ſtances of their life and ſituation determined the object as well as the degree of their devotion; and as long as their adoration was ſucceſſively proſtituted to a thouſand deities, it was ſcarcely poſſible that their hearts could be ſuſceptible of a very ſincere or lively paſſion for any of them.

When Chriſtianity appeared in the world, even The ſcep⯑ticiſm of the Pagan world proved fa⯑vourable to the new religion, theſe faint and imperfect impreſſions had loſt much of their original power. Human reaſon, which by its unaſſiſted ſtrength is incapable of perceiving the myſteries of faith, had already obtained an eaſy triumph over the folly of Pa⯑ganiſm; and when Tertullian or Lactantius em⯑ploy their labours in expoſing its falſehood and extravagance, they are obliged to tranſcribe the eloquence of Cicero or the wit of Lucian. The contagion of theſe ſceptical writings had been diffuſed far beyond the number of their readers. The faſhion of incredulity was communicated from the philoſopher to the man of pleaſure or buſineſs, from the noble to the plebeian, and from the maſter to the menial ſlave who waited at his table, and who eagerly liſtened to the freedom of his converſation. On public occa⯑ſions [356] the philoſophic part of mankind affected to treat with reſpect and decency the religious in⯑ſtitutions of their country; but their ſecret con⯑tempt penetrated through the thin and awkward diſguiſe, and even the people, when they diſ⯑covered that their deities were rejected and de⯑rided by thoſe whoſe rank or underſtanding they were accuſtomed to reverence, were filled with doubts and apprehenſions concerning the truth of thoſe doctrines, to which they had yielded the moſt implicit belief. The decline of ancient prejudice expoſed a very numerous portion of human kind to the danger of a painful and com⯑fortleſs ſituation. A ſtate of ſcepticiſm and ſuſ⯑penſe may amuſe a few inquiſitive minds. But the practice of ſuperſtition is ſo congenial to the multitude, that if they are forcibly awakened, they ſtill regret the loſs of their pleaſing viſion. Their love of the marvellous and ſupernatural, their curioſity with regard to future events, and their ſtrong propenſity to extend their hopes and fears beyond the limits of the viſible world, were the principal cauſes which favoured the eſtabliſh⯑ment of Polytheiſm. So urgent on the vulgar is the neceſſity of believing, that the fall of any ſyſtem of mythology will moſt probably be ſuc⯑ceeded by the introduction of ſome other mode of ſuperſtition. Some deities of a more recent and faſhionable caſt might ſoon have occupied the deſerted temples of Jupiter and Apollo, if, in the deciſive moment, the wiſdom of Providence had not interpoſed a genuine revelation, fitted to inſpire the moſt rational eſteem and conviction, [357] whilſt, at the ſame time, it was adorned with all that could attract the curioſity, the wonder, and the veneration of the people. In their actual diſpoſition, as many were almoſt diſengaged from their artificial prejudices, but equally ſuſceptible and deſirous of a devout attachment; an object much leſs deſerving would have been ſufficient to fill the vacant place in their hearts, and to gratify the uncertain eagerneſs of their paſſions. Thoſe who are inclined to purſue this reflection, inſtead of viewing with aſtoniſhment the rapid progreſs of Chriſtianity, will perhaps be ſurpriſed that its ſucceſs was not ſtill more rapid and ſtill more univerſal.

It has been obſerved, with truth as well as as well as the peace and union of the Ro⯑man em⯑pire. propriety, that the conqueſts of Rome prepared and facilitated thoſe of Chriſtianity. In the ſecond chapter of this work we have attempted to explain in what manner the moſt civilized provinces of Europe, Aſia, and Africa, were united under the dominion of one ſovereign, and gradually connected by the moſt intimate ties of laws, of manners, and of language. The Jews of Paleſtine, who had fondly expected a temporal deliverer, gave ſo cold a reception to the mi⯑racles of the divine prophet, that it was found unneceſſary to publiſh, or at leaſt to preſerve, any Hebrew goſpel ¹⁵². The authentic hiſtories of the actions of Chriſt were compoſed in the [358] Greek language, at a conſiderable diſtance from Jeruſalem, and after the Gentile converts were grown extremely numerous ¹⁵³. As ſoon as thoſe hiſtories were tranſlated into the Latin tongue, they were perfectly intelligible to all the ſubjects of Rome, excepting only to the peaſants of Sy⯑ria and Egypt, for whoſe benefit particular ver⯑ſions were afterwards made. The public high⯑ways, which had been conſtructed for the uſe of the legions, opened an eaſy paſſage for the Chriſ⯑tian miſſionaries from Damaſcus to Corinth, and from Italy to the extremity of Spain or Britain; nor did thoſe ſpiritual conquerors encounter any of the obſtacles which uſually retard or prevent the introduction of a foreign religion into a diſ⯑tant country. There is the ſtrongeſt reaſon to believe, that before the reigns of Diocletian and Conſtantine, the faith of Chriſt had been preach⯑ed in every province, and in all the great cities of the empire; but the foundation of the ſeveral Hiſtorical view of the pro⯑greſs of Chriſtian⯑ity congregations, the numbers of the faithful who compoſed them, and their proportion to the un⯑believing multitude, are now buried in obſcurity, or diſguiſed by fiction and declamation. Such imperfect circumſtances, however, as have reach⯑ed our knowledge concerning the increaſe of the Chriſtian name in Aſia and Greece, in Egypt, in Italy, and in the Weſt, we ſhall now proceed to relate, without neglecting the real or imaginary [359] acquiſitions which lay beyond the frontiers of the Roman empire.

The rich provinces that extend from the in the Eaſt. Euphrates to the Ionian ſea, were the principal theatre on which the apoſtle of the Gentiles diſ⯑played his zeal and piety. The ſeeds of the goſpel, which he had ſcattered in a fertile ſoil, were diligently cultivated by his diſciples; and it ſhould ſeem that, during the two firſt centuries, the moſt conſiderable body of Chriſtians was contained within thoſe limits. Among the ſo⯑cieties which were inſtituted in Syria, none were more ancient or more illuſtrious than thoſe of Damaſcus, of Berea or Aleppo, and of Antioch. The prophetic introduction of the Apocalypſe has deſcribed and immortaliſed the ſeven churches of Aſia; Epheſus, Smyrna, Pergamus, Thya⯑tira ¹⁵⁴, Sardes, Laodicea, and Philadelphia; and their colonies were ſoon diffuſed over that popu⯑lous country. In a very early period, the iſlands of Cyprus and Crete, the provinces of Thrace and Macedonia, gave a favourable reception to the new religion; and Chriſtian republics were ſoon founded in the cities of Corinth, of Sparta, and of Athens ¹⁵⁵. The antiquity of the Greek and Aſiatic churches allowed a ſufficient ſpace of [360] time for their increaſe and multiplication, and even the ſwarms of Gnoſtics and other heretics ſerve to diſplay the flouriſhing condition of the orthodox church, ſince the appellation of heretics has always been applied to the leſs numerous party. To theſe domeſtic teſtimonies we may add the confeſſion, the complaints, and the ap⯑prehenſions of the Gentiles themſelves. From the writings of Lucian, a philoſopher who had ſtudied mankind, and who deſcribes their man⯑ners in the moſt lively colours, we may learn, that, under the reign of Commodus, his native country of Pontus was filled with Epicureans and Chriſtians ¹⁵⁶. Within fourſcore years after the death of Chriſt ¹⁵⁷, the humane Pliny laments the magnitude of the evil which he vainly attempted to eradicate. In his very curious epiſtle to the emperor Trajan, he affirms, that the temples were almoſt deſerted, that the ſacred victims ſcarcely found any purchaſers, and that the ſu⯑perſtition had not only infected the cities, but had even ſpread itſelf into the villages and the open country of Pontus and Bithynia ¹⁵⁸.

Without deſcending into a minute ſcrutiny of The church of Antioch. the expreſſions, or of the motives of thoſe wri⯑ters [361] who either celebrate or lament the progreſs of Chriſtianity in the Eaſt, it may in general be obſerved, that none of them have left us any grounds from whence a juſt eſtimate might be formed of the real numbers of the faithful in thoſe provinces. One circumſtance, however, has been fortunately preſerved, which ſeems to caſt a more diſtinct light on this obſcure but intereſting ſubject. Under the reign of Theo⯑doſius, after Chriſtianity had enjoyed, during more than ſixty years, the ſunſhine of Imperial favour, the ancient and illuſtrious church of Antioch conſiſted of one hundred thouſand per⯑ſons, three thouſand of whom were ſupported out of the public oblations ¹⁵⁹. The ſplendour and dignity of the queen of the Eaſt, the acknow⯑ledged populouſneſs of Caeſarea, Seleucia, and Alexandria, and the deſtruction of two hundred and fifty thouſand ſouls in the earthquake which afflicted Antioch under the elder Juſtin ¹⁶⁰, are ſo many convincing proofs that the whole number of its inhabitants was not leſs than half a million, and that the Chriſtians, however multiplied by zeal and power, did not exceed a fifth part of that great city. How different a proportion muſt we adopt when we compare the perſecuted with the triumphant church, the Weſt with the Eaſt, remote villages with populous towns, and countries recently converted to the faith, with [362] the place where the believers firſt received the appellation of Chriſtians! It muſt not, however, be diſſembled, that, in another paſſage, Chry⯑ſoſtom, to whom we are indebted for this uſeful information, computes the multitude of the faith⯑ful as even ſuperior to that of the Jews and Pa⯑gans ¹⁶¹. But the ſolution of this apparent diffi⯑culty is eaſy and obvious. The eloquent preacher draws a parallel between the civil and the eccle⯑ſiaſtical conſtitution of Antioch; between the liſt of Chriſtians who had acquired Heaven by bap⯑tiſm, and the liſt of citizens who had a right to ſhare the public liberality. Slaves, ſtrangers, and infants were compriſed in the former; they were excluded from the latter.

The extenſive commerce of Alexandria, and In Egypt. its proximity to Paleſtine, gave an eaſy entrance to the new religion. It was at firſt embraced by great numbers of the Therapeutae, or Eſſenians of the lake Mareotis, a Jewiſh ſect which had abated much of its reverence for the Moſaic ceremonies. The auſtere life of the Eſſenians, their faſts and excommunications, the community of goods, the love of celibacy, their zeal for martyrdom, and the warmth though not the purity of their faith, already offered a very lively image of the primitive diſcipline ¹⁶². It was in [363] the ſchool of Alexandria that the Chriſtian theo⯑logy appears to have aſſumed a regular and ſci⯑entifical form; and when Hadrian viſited Egypt, he found a church compoſed of Jews and of Greeks, ſufficiently important to attract the no⯑tice of that inquiſitive prince ¹⁶³. But the pro⯑greſs of Chriſtianity was for a long time confined within the limits of a ſingle city, which was itſelf a foreign colony, and till the cloſe of the ſecond century the predeceſſors of Demetrius were the only prelates of the Egyptian church. Three biſhops were conſecrated by the hands of Deme⯑trius, and the number was increaſed to twenty by his ſucceſſor Heraclas ¹⁶⁴. The body of the natives, a people diſtinguiſhed by a ſullen inflexi⯑bility of temper ¹⁶⁵, entertained the new doc⯑trine with coldneſs and reluctance: and even in the time of Origen, it was rare to meet with an Egyptian who had ſurmounted his early preju⯑dices in favour of the ſacred animals of his coun⯑try ¹⁶⁶. As ſoon, indeed, as Chriſtianity aſcend⯑ed the throne, the zeal of thoſe barbarians obey⯑ed [364] the prevailing impulſion; the cities of Egypt were filled with biſhops, and the deſerts of The⯑bais ſwarmed with hermits.

A perpetual ſtream of ſtrangers and provin⯑cials In Rome. flowed into the capacious boſom of Rome. Whatever was ſtrange or odious, whoever was guilty or ſuſpected, might hope, in the obſcurity of that immenſe capital, to elude the vigilance of the law. In ſuch a various conflux of nations, every teacher, either of truth or of falſehood, every founder, whether of a virtuous or a cri⯑minal aſſociation, might eaſily multiply his diſ⯑ciples or accomplices. The Chriſtians of Rome, at the time of the accidental perſecution of Nero, are repreſented by Tacitus as already amount⯑ing to a very great multitude ¹⁶⁷, and the lan⯑guage of that great hiſtorian is almoſt ſimilar to the ſtyle employed by Livy, when he relates the introduction and the ſuppreſſion of the rites of Bacchus. After the Bacchanals had awakened the ſeverity of the ſenate, it was likewiſe appre⯑hended that a very great multitude, as it were another people, had been initiated into thoſe ab⯑horred myſteries. A more careful inquiry ſoon demonſtrated, that the offenders did not exceed ſeven thouſand; a number indeed ſufficiently alarming, when conſidered as the object of pub⯑lic juſtice ¹⁶⁸. It is with the ſame candid allow⯑ance [365] that we ſhould interpret the vague expreſ⯑ſions of Tacitus, and in a former inſtance of Pliny, when they exaggerate the crowds of deluded fanatics who had forſaken the eſtabliſhed worſhip of the gods. The church of Rome was un⯑doubtedly the firſt and moſt populous of the em⯑pire; and we are poſſeſſed of an authentic record which atteſts the ſtate of religion in that city about the middle of the third century, and after a piece of thirty-eight years. The clergy, at that time, conſiſted of a biſhop, forty-ſix preſ⯑byters, ſeven deacons, as many ſub-deacons, forty-two acolythes, and fifty readers, exorciſts, and porters. The number of widows, of the in⯑firm, and of the poor, who were maintained by the oblations of the faithful, amounted to fifteen hundred ¹⁶⁹. From reaſon, as well as from the analogy of Antioch, we may venture to eſtimate the Chriſtians of Rome at about fifty thouſand. The populouſneſs of that great capital cannot perhaps be exactly aſcertained; but the moſt modeſt calculation will not ſurely reduce it lower than a million of inhabitants, of whom the Chriſ⯑tians might conſtitute at the moſt a twentieth part ¹⁷⁰.

[366] The weſtern provincials appeared to have de⯑rived the knowledge of Chriſtianity from the ſame ſource which had diffuſed among them the lan⯑guage, In Africa and the weſtern provinces. the ſentiments, and the manners of Rome. In this more important circumſtance, Africa, as well as Gaul, was gradually faſhioned to the imi⯑tation of the capital. Yet notwithſtanding the many favourable occaſions which might invite the Roman miſſionaries to viſit their Latin provinces, it was late before they paſſed either the ſea or the Alps ¹⁷¹; nor can we diſcover in thoſe great countries any aſſured traces either of faith or of perſecution that aſcend higher than the reign of the Antonines ¹⁷². The ſlow progreſs of the go⯑ſpel in the cold climate of Gaul, was extremely different from the eagerneſs with which it ſeems to have been received on the burning ſands of Africa. The African Chriſtians ſoon formed one of the principal members of the primitive church. The practice introduced into that province, of appointing biſhops to the moſt inconſiderable towns, and very frequently to the moſt obſcure villages, contributed to multiply the ſplendour [367] and importance of their religious ſocieties, which during the courſe of the third century were ani⯑mated by the zeal of Tertullian, directed by the abilities of Cyprian, and adorned by the eloquence of Lactantius. But if, on the contrary, we turn our eyes towards Gaul, we muſt content ourſelves with diſcovering, in the time of Marcus Antoni⯑nus, the feeble and united congregations of Ly⯑ons and Vienna; and even as late as the reign of Decius, we are aſſured, that in a few cities only, Arles, Narbonne, Thoulouſe, Limoges, Cler⯑mont, Tours, and Paris, ſome ſcattered churches were ſupported by the devotion of a ſmall num⯑ber of Chriſtians ¹⁷³. Silence is indeed very conſiſtent with devotion, but as it is ſeldom com⯑patible with zeal, we may perceive and lament the languid ſtate of Chriſtianity in thoſe pro⯑vinces which had exchanged the Celtic for the Latin tongue; ſince they did not, during the three firſt centuries, give birth to a ſingle eccle⯑ſiaſtical writer. From Gaul, which claimed a juſt pre-eminence of learning and authority over all the countries on this ſide of the Alps, the light of the goſpel was more faintly reflected on the remote provinces of Spain and Britain; and if we may credit the vehement aſſertions of Tertullian, they had already received the firſt rays [368] of the faith, when he addreſſed his apology to the magiſtrates of the emperor Severus ¹⁷⁴. But the obſcure and imperfect origin of the weſtern churches of Europe has been ſo negligently re⯑corded, that if we would relate the time and manner of their foundation, we muſt ſupply the ſilence of antiquity by thoſe legends which ava⯑rice or ſuperſtition long afterwards dictated to the monks in the lazy gloom of their convents ¹⁷⁵. Of theſe holy romances, that of the apoſtle St. James can alone, by its ſingle extravagance, de⯑ſerve to be mentioned. From a peaceful fiſherman of the lake of Genneſareth, he was transformed into a valorous knight, who charged at the head of the Spaniſh chivalry in their battles againſt the Moors. The graveſt hiſtorians have cele⯑brated his exploits; the miraculous ſhrine of Compoſtella diſplayed his power; and the ſword of a military order, aſſiſted by the terrors of the Inquiſition, was ſufficient to remove every ob⯑jection of profane criticiſm ¹⁷⁶.

The progreſs of Chriſtianity was not confined Beyond the limits of the Ro⯑man em⯑pire. to the Roman empire; and according to the pri⯑mitive fathers, who interpret facts by prophecy, [369] the new religion, within a century after the death of its divine author, had already viſited every part of the globe. ‘There exiſts not, ſays Juſtin Martyr, a people, whether Greek or Barbarian, or any other race of men, by what⯑ſoever appellation or manners they may be diſtinguiſhed, however ignorant of arts or agriculture, whether they dwell under tents, or wander about in covered waggons, among whom prayers are not offered up in the name of a crucified Jeſus to the Father and Creator of all things ¹⁷⁷.’ But this ſplendid exaggeration, which even at preſent it would be extremely difficult to reconcile with the real ſtate of man⯑kind, can be conſidered only as the raſh ſally of a devout but careleſs writer, the meaſure of whoſe belief was regulated by that of his wiſhes. But neither the belief, nor the wiſhes of the fa⯑thers, can alter the truth of hiſtory. It will ſtill remain an undoubted fact, that the barbarians of Scythia and Germany, who afterwards ſubverted the Roman monarchy, were involved in the dark⯑neſs of paganiſm; and that even the converſion of Iberia, of Armenia, or of Aethiopia, was not attempted with any degree of ſucceſs till the ſceptre was in the hands of an orthodox empe⯑ror ¹⁷⁸. Before that time, the various accidents [370] of war and commerce might indeed diffuſe an imperfect knowledge of the goſpel among the tribes of Caledonia ¹⁷⁹, and among the borderers of the Rhine, the Danube, and the Euphrates ¹⁸⁰. Beyond the laſt-mentioned river, Edeſſa was diſtinguiſhed by a firm and early adherence to the faith ¹⁸¹. From Edeſſa, the principles of Chriſtianity were eaſily introduced into the Greek and Syrian cities which obeyed the ſucceſſors of Artaxerxes; but they do not appear to have made any deep impreſſion on the minds of the Perſians, whoſe religious ſyſtem, by the labours of a well-diſciplined order of prieſts, had been conſtructed with much more art and ſolidity than the uncertain mythology of Greece and Rome ¹⁸².

[371] From this impartial though imperfect ſurvey of the progreſs of Chriſtianity, it may perhaps ſeem probable, that the number of its proſelytes General proportion of Chriſ⯑tians and Pagans. has been exceſſively magnified by fear on the one ſide, and by devotion on the other. According to the irreproachable teſtimony of Origen ¹⁸³, the proportion of the faithful was very inconſider⯑able when compared with the multitude of an unbelieving world; but, as we are left without any diſtinct information, it is impoſſible to deter⯑mine, and it is difficult even to conjecture, the real numbers of the primitive Chriſtians. The moſt favourable calculation, however, that can be deduced from the examples of Antioch and of Rome, will not permit us to imagine that more than a twentieth part of the ſubjects of the empire had enliſted themſelves under the banner of the croſs before the important converſion of Conſtantine. But their habits of faith, of zeal, and of union, ſeemed to multiply their numbers; and the ſame cauſes which contributed to their future increaſe, ſerved to render their actual ſtrength more apparent and more formidable.

Such is the conſtitution of civil ſociety, that Whether the firſt Chriſtians were mean and igno⯑rant. whilſt a few perſons are diſtinguiſhed by riches, by honours, and by knowledge, the body of the people is condemned to obſcurity, ignorance, and poverty. The Chriſtian religion, which addreſſed itſelf to the whole human race, muſt conſequently collect a far greater number of proſelytes from the lower than from the ſuperior ranks of life. [372] This innocent and natural circumſtance has been improved into a very odious imputation, which ſeems to be leſs ſtrenuouſly denied by the apolo⯑giſts, than it is urged by the adverſaries, of the faith; that the new ſect of Chriſtians was almoſt entirely compoſed of the dregs of the populace, of peaſants and mechanics, of boys and women, of beggars and ſlaves, the laſt of whom might ſometimes introduce the miſſionaries into the rich and noble families to which they belonged. Theſe obſcure teachers (ſuch was the charge of malice and infidelity) are as mute in public as they are loquacious and dogmatical in private. Whilſt they cautiouſly avoid the dangerous en⯑counter of philoſophers, they mingle with the rude and illiterate crowd, and inſinuate them⯑ſelves into thoſe minds, whom their age, their ſex, or their education, has the beſt diſpoſed to receive the impreſſion of ſuperſtitious terrors ¹⁸⁴,

This unfavourable picture, though not devoid Some ex⯑ceptions with re⯑gard to learning; of a faint reſemblance, betrays, by its dark co⯑louring and diſtorted features, the pencil of an enemy. As the humble faith of Chriſt diffuſed itſelf through the world, it was embraced by ſeveral perſons who derived ſome conſequence from the advantages of nature or fortune. Ariſ⯑tides, who preſented an eloquent apology to the emperor Hadrian, was an Athenian philoſopher ¹⁸⁵. Juſtin Martyr had ſought divine knowledge in the ſchools of Zeno, of Ariſtotle, of Pythagoras, [373] and of Plato, before he fortunately was accoſted by the old man, or rather the angel, who turned his attention to the ſtudy of the Jewiſh pro⯑phets ¹⁸⁶. Clemens of Alexandria had acquired much various reading in the Greek, and Ter⯑tullian in the Latin, language. Julius Africanus and Origen poſſeſſed a very conſiderable ſhare of the learning of their times; and although the ſtyle of Cyprian is very different from that of Lactantius, we might almoſt diſcover that both thoſe writers had been public teachers of rhe⯑toric. Even the ſtudy of philoſophy was at length introduced among the Chriſtians, but it was not always productive of the moſt ſalutary effects; knowledge was as often the parent of hereſy as of devotion, and the deſcription which was deſigned for the followers of Artemon, may, with equal propriety, be applied to the various ſects that reſiſted the ſucceſſors of the apoſtles. ‘They preſume to alter the holy ſcriptures, to abandon the ancient rule of faith, and to form their opinions according to the ſubtile precepts of logic. The ſcience of the church is neglected for the ſtudy of geometry, and they loſe ſight of Heaven while they are em⯑ployed in meaſuring the earth. Euclid is per⯑petually in their hands. Ariſtotle and Theo⯑phraſtus are the objects of their admiration; and they expreſs an uncommon reverence for the works of Galen. Their errors are derived [374] from the abuſe of the arts and ſciences of the infidels, and they corrupt the ſimplicity of the goſpel by the refinements of human reaſon ¹⁸⁷.’

Nor can it be affirmed with truth, that the with re⯑gard to rank and fortune. advantages of birth and fortune were always ſeparated from the profeſſion of Chriſtianity. Several Roman citizens were brought before the tribunal of Pliny, and he ſoon diſcovered, that a great number of perſons of every order of men in Bithynia had deſerted the religion of their an⯑ceſtors ¹⁸⁸. His unſuſpected teſtimony may, in this inſtance, obtain more credit than the bold challenge of Tertullian, when he addreſſes him⯑ſelf to the fears as well as to the humanity of the proconſul of Africa, by aſſuring him, that if he perſiſts in his cruel intentions, he muſt decimate Carthage, and that he will find among the guilty many perſons of his own rank, ſenators and matrons of nobleſt extraction, and the friends or relations of his moſt intimate friends ¹⁸⁹. It appears, however, that about forty years after-wards the emperor Valerian was perſuaded of the truth of this aſſertion, ſince in one of his reſcripts he evidently ſuppoſes, that ſenators, Roman knights, and ladies of quality, were engaged in [] the Chriſtian ſect ¹⁹⁰. The church ſtill continued to increaſe its outward ſplendour as it loſt its internal purity; and, in the reign of Diocletian, the palace, the courts of juſtice, and even the army, concealed a multitude of Chriſtians, who endeavoured to reconcile the intereſts of the pre⯑ſent, with thoſe of a future, life.

And yet theſe exceptions are either too few in Chriſtian⯑ity moſt favourably received by the poor and ſimple. number, or too recent in time, entirely to re⯑move the imputation of ignorance and obſcurity which has been ſo arrogantly caſt on the firſt proſelytes of Chriſtianity. Inſtead of employing in our defence the fictions of later ages, it will be more prudent to convert the occaſion of ſcan⯑dal into a ſubject of edification. Our ſerious thoughts will ſuggeſt to us, that the apoſtles themſelves were choſen by providence among the fiſhermen of Galilee, and that the lower we de⯑preſs the temporal condition of the firſt Chriſ⯑tians, the more reaſon we ſhall find to admire their merit and ſucceſs. It is incumbent on us diligently to remember, that the kingdom of Heaven was promiſed to the poor in ſpirit, and that minds afflicted by calamity and the contempt of mankind, cheerfully liſten to the divine pro⯑miſe of future happineſs; while, on the contrary, the fortunate are ſatisfied with the poſſeſſion of this world; and the wiſe abuſe in doubt and dis⯑pute their vain ſuperiority of reaſon and know⯑ledge.

We ſtand in need of ſuch reflections to com⯑fort Rejected by ſome eminent men of the firſt and ſe⯑cond cen⯑turies. us for the loſs of ſome illuſtrious characters, [376] which in our eyes might have ſeemed the moſt worthy of the heavenly preſent. The names of Seneca, of the elder and the younger Pliny, of Tacitus, of Plutarch, of Galen, of the ſlave Epic⯑tetus, and of the emperor Marcus Antoninus, adorn the age in which they flouriſhed, and exalt the dignity of human nature. They filled with glory their reſpective ſtations, either in active or contemplative life; their excellent underſtand⯑ings were improved by ſtudy; Philoſophy had purified their minds from the prejudices of the popular ſuperſtition; and their days were ſpent in the purſuit of truth and the practice of virtue. Yet all theſe ſages (it is no leſs an object of ſur⯑priſe than of concern) overlooked or rejected the perfection of the Chriſtian ſyſtem. Their lan⯑guage or their ſilence equally diſcover their con⯑tempt for the growing ſect, which in their time had diffuſed itſelf over the Roman empire. Thoſe among them who condeſcend to mention the Chriſtians, conſider them only as obſtinate and perverſe enthuſiaſts, who exacted an implicit ſubmiſſion to their myſterious doctrines, without being able to produce a ſingle argument that could engage the attention of men of ſenſe and learning ¹⁹¹.

[377] It is at leaſt doubtful whether any of theſe phi⯑loſophers peruſed the apologies which the primi⯑tive Chriſtians repeatedly publiſhed in behalf of Their ne⯑glect of prophecy themſelves and of their religion; but it is much to be lamented that ſuch a cauſe was not defended by abler advocates. They expoſe with ſuper⯑fluous wit and eloquence, the extravagance of Polytheiſm. They intereſt our compaſſion by diſplaying the innocence and ſufferings of their injured brethren. But when they would demon⯑ſtrate the divine origin of Chriſtianity, they inſiſt much more ſtrongly on the predictions which announced, than on the miracles which accompanied, the appearance of the Meſſiah. Their favourite argument might ſerve to edify a Chriſtian or to convert a Jew, ſince both the one and the other acknowledge the authority of thoſe prophecies, and both are obliged, with devout reverence, to ſearch for their ſenſe and their accompliſhment. But this mode of per⯑ſuaſion loſes much of its weight and influence, when it is addreſſed to thoſe who neither under⯑ſtand nor reſpect the Moſaic diſpenſation and the prophetic ſtyle ¹⁹². In the unſkilful hands of Juſtin and of the ſucceeding apologiſts, the ſu⯑blime meaning of the Hebrew oracles evaporates in diſtant types, affected conceits, and cold alle⯑gories; [378] and even their authenticity was rendered ſuſpicious to an unenlightened Gentile, by the mixture of pious forgeries, which, under the names of Orpheus, Hermes, and the Sibyls ¹⁹³, were obtruded on him as of equal value with the genuine inſpirations of Heaven. The adoption of fraud and ſophiſtry in the defence of revela⯑tion, too often reminds us of the injudicious conduct of thoſe poets who load their invulnerable heroes with a uſeleſs weight of cumberſome and brittle armour.

But how ſhall we excuſe the ſupine inattention and of mi⯑racles. of the Pagan and philoſophic world, to thoſe evidences which were preſented by the hand of Omnipotence, not to their reaſon, but to their ſenſes? During the age of Chriſt, of his apoſtles, and of their firſt diſciples, the doctrine which they preached was confirmed by innumerable prodi⯑gies. The lame walked, the blind ſaw, the ſick were healed, the dead were raiſed, daemons were expelled, and the laws of Nature were frequently ſuſpended for the benefit of the church. But the General ſi⯑lence con⯑cerning the darkneſs of the Paſ⯑ſion. ſages of Greece and Rome turned aſide from the awful ſpectacle, and purſuing the ordinary occu⯑pations of life and ſtudy, appeared unconſcious of any alterations in the moral or phyſical govern⯑ment [379] of the world. Under the reign of Tibe⯑rius, the whole earth ⁹⁴, or at leaſt a celebrated province of the Roman empire ¹⁹⁵, was involved in a praeternatural darkneſs of three hours. Even this miraculous event, which ought to have ex⯑cited the wonder, the curioſity, and the devotion of mankind, paſſed without notice in an age of ſcience and hiſtory ¹⁹⁶. It happened during the lifetime of Seneca and the elder Pliny, who muſt have experienced the immediate effects, or re⯑ceived the earlieſt intelligence, of the prodigy. Each of theſe philoſophers, in a laborious work, has recorded all the great phenomena of Nature, earthquakes, meteors, comets, and eclipſes, which his indefatigable curioſity could collect ¹⁹⁷. Both the one and the other have omitted to mention the greateſt phenomenon to which the mortal eye has been witneſs ſince the creation of the globe. A diſtinct chapter of Pliny ¹⁹⁸ is deſigned for eclipſes of an extraordinary nature and unuſual duration; but he contents himſelf with deſcrib⯑ing [380] the ſingular defect of light which followed the murder of Caeſar, when, during the greateſt part of a year, the orb of the ſun appeared pale and without ſplendour. This ſeaſon of obſcurity, which cannot ſurely be compared with the prae⯑ternatural darkneſs of the Paſſion, had been already celebrated by moſt of the poets ¹⁹⁹ and hiſtorians of that memorable age ²⁰⁰.

CHAP. XVI. The Conduct of the Roman Government towards the Chriſtians, from the Reign of Nero to that of Conſtantine.

IF we ſeriouſly conſider the purity of the Chriſtian religion, the ſanctity of its moral precepts, and the innocent as well as auſtere lives of the greater Chriſtian⯑ity perſe⯑cuted by the Ro⯑man em⯑perors. number of thoſe, who during the firſt ages em⯑braced the faith of the goſpel, we ſhould natu⯑rally ſuppoſe, that ſo benevolent a doctrine would have been received with due reverence, even by the unbelieving world; that the learned and the polite, however they might deride the miracles, would have eſteemed the virtues of the new ſect; and that the magiſtrates, inſtead of perſecuting, would have protected an order of men who yield⯑ed the moſt paſſive obedience to the laws, though they declined the active cares of war and govern⯑ment. If on the other hand we recollect the univerſal toleration of Polytheiſm, as it was in⯑variably maintained by the faith of the people, the incredulity of philoſophers, and the policy of the Roman ſenate and emperors, we are at a loſs to diſcover what new offence the Chriſtians had committed, what new provocation could exaſperate the mild indifference of antiquity, and what new motives could urge the Roman princes, who beheld without concern a thouſand forms of religion ſubſiſting in peace under their [382] gentle ſway, to inflict a ſevere puniſhment on any part of their ſubjects, who had choſen for themſelves a ſingular but an inoffenſive mode of faith and worſhip.

The religious policy of the ancient world ſeems to have aſſumed a more ſtern and intolerant cha⯑racter, to oppoſe the progreſs of Chriſtianity. About fourſcore years after the death of Chriſt, his innocent diſciples were puniſhed with death by the ſentence of a proconſul of the moſt ami⯑able and philoſophic character, and according to the laws of an emperor, diſtinguiſhed by the wiſ⯑dom and juſtice of his general adminiſtration. The apologies which were repeatedly addreſſed to the ſucceſſors of Trajan are filled with the moſt pathetic complaints, that the Chriſtians who obeyed the dictates, and ſolicited the liberty, of conſcience, were alone, among all the ſubjects of the Roman empire, excluded from the common benefits of their auſpicious government. The deaths of a few eminent martyrs have been re⯑corded with care; and from the time that Chriſ⯑tianity was inveſted with the ſupreme power, the governors of the church have been no leſs dili⯑gently employed in diſplaying the cruelty, than in imitating the conduct, of their Pagan adver⯑ſaries. To ſeparate (if it be poſſible) a few authentic as well as intereſting facts from an un⯑digeſted maſs of fiction and error, and to relate, in a clear and rational manner, the cauſes, the extent, the duration, and the moſt important circumſtances of the perſecutions to which the [383] firſt Chriſtians were expoſed, is the deſign of the preſent Chapter.

The ſectaries of a perſecuted religion, de⯑preſſed Inquiry into their motives. by fear, animated with reſentment, and perhaps heated by enthuſiaſm, are ſeldom in a proper temper of mind calmly to inveſtigate, or candidly to appreciate, the motives of their ene⯑mies, which often eſcape the impartial and diſ⯑cerning view even of thoſe who are placed at a ſecure diſtance from the flames of perſecution. A reaſon has been aſſigned for the conduct of the emperors towards the primitive Chriſtians, which may appear the more ſpecious and probable as it is drawn from the acknowledged genius of Poly⯑theiſm. It has already been obſerved, that the religious concord of the world was principally ſupported by the implicit aſſent and reverence which the nations of antiquity expreſſed for their reſpective traditions and ceremonies. It might therefore be expected, that they would unite with indignation againſt any ſect or people which ſhould ſeparate itſelf from the communion of mankind, and claiming the excluſive poſſeſſion of divine knowledge, ſhould diſdain every form of worſhip, except its own, as impious and ido⯑latrous. The rights of toleration were held by mutual indulgence: they were juſtly for⯑feited by a refuſal of the accuſtomed tribute. As the payment of this tribute was inflexibly refuſed by the Jews, and by them alone, the conſideration of the treatment which they expe⯑rienced [384] from the Roman magiſtrates, will ſerve to explain how far theſe ſpeculations are juſtified by facts, and will lead us to diſcover the true cauſes of the perſecution of Chriſtianity.

Without repeating what has been already men⯑tioned, Rebellious ſpirit of the Jews. of the reverence of the Roman princes and governors for the temple of Jeruſalem, we ſhall only obſerve, that the deſtruction of the temple and city was accompanied and followed by every circumſtance that could exaſperate the minds of the conquerors, and authorize religious perſecution by the moſt ſpecious arguments of political juſtice and the public ſafety. From the reign of Nero to that of Antoninus Pius, the Jews diſcovered a fierce impatience of the domi⯑nion of Rome, which repeatedly broke out in the moſt furious maſſacres and inſurrections. Humanity is ſhocked at the recital of the horrid cruelties which they committed in the cities of Egypt, of Cyprus, and of Cyrene, where they dwelt in treacherous friendſhip with the unſuſ⯑pecting natives ¹; and we are tempted to applaud the ſevere retaliation which was exerciſed by the arms of the legions againſt a race of fanatics, whoſe dire and credulous ſuperſtition ſeemed to render them the implacable enemies not only of [385] the Roman government, but of humankind ². The enthuſiaſm of the Jews was ſupported by the opinion, that it was unlawful for them to pay taxes to an idolatrous maſter; and by the flat⯑tering promiſe which they derived from their ancient oracles, that a conquering Meſſiah would ſoon ariſe, deſtined to break their fetters, and to inveſt the favourites of heaven with the empire of the earth. It was by announcing himſelf as their long-expected deliverer, and by calling on all the deſcendants of Abraham to aſſert the hope of Iſrael, that the famous Barchochebas collected a formidable army, with which he reſiſted dur⯑ing two years the power of the emperor Ha⯑drian ³.

Notwithſtanding theſe repeated provocations, Toleration of the Jew⯑iſh religi⯑on. the reſentment of the Roman princes expired after the victory; nor were their apprehenſions continued beyond the period of war and danger. By the general indulgence of polytheiſm, and by the mild temper of Antoninus Pius, the Jews were reſtored to their ancient privileges, and once more obtained the permiſſion of circum⯑ciſing their children, with the eaſy reſtraint, that they ſhould never confer on any foreign proſelyte [386] that diſtinguiſhing mark of the Hebrew race ⁴. The numerous remains of that people, though they were ſtill excluded from the precincts of Jeruſalem, were permitted to form and to main⯑tain conſiderable eſtabliſhments both in Italy and in the provinces, to acquire the freedom of Rome, to enjoy municipal honours, and to obtain at the ſame time an exemption from the burdenſome and expenſive offices of ſociety. The modera⯑tion or the contempt of the Romans gave a legal ſanction to the form of eccleſiaſtical police which was inſtituted by the vanquiſhed ſect. The pa⯑triarch, who had fixed his reſidence at Tiberias, was empowered to appoint his ſubordinate mi⯑niſters and apoſtles, to exerciſe a domeſtic juriſ⯑diction, and to receive from his diſperſed bre⯑thren an annual contribution ⁵. New ſynagogues were frequently erected in the principal cities of the empire; and the ſabbaths, the faſts, and the feſtivals, which were either commanded by the Moſaic law, or enjoined by the traditions of the Rabbis, were celebrated in the moſt ſolemn and public manner ⁶. Such gentle treatment inſen⯑ſibly aſſuaged the ſtern temper of the Jews. Awakened from their dream of prophecy and [387] conqueſt, they aſſumed the behaviour of peace⯑able and induſtrious ſubjects. Their irrecon⯑cileable hatred of mankind, inſtead of flaming out in acts of blood and violence, evaporated in leſs dangerous gratifications. They embraced every opportunity of over-reaching the idolaters in trade; and they pronounced ſecret and ambi⯑guous imprecations againſt the haughty kingdom of Edom ⁷.

Since the Jews, who rejected with abhorrence The Jews were a peo⯑ple which followed, the Chriſ⯑tians a ſect which deſerted, the religi⯑on of their fathers. the deities adored by their ſovereign and by their fellow-ſubjects, enjoyed however the free exer⯑ciſe of their unſocial religion; there muſt have exiſted ſome other cauſe, which expoſed the diſ⯑ciples of Chriſt to thoſe ſeverities from which the poſterity of Abraham was exempt. The differ⯑ence between them is ſimple and obvious; but, according to the ſentiments of antiquity, it was of the higheſt importance. The Jews were a nation; the Chriſtians were a ſect: and if it was natural for every community to reſpect the ſacred inſtitutions of their neighbours, it was incum⯑bent on them to perſevere in thoſe of their an⯑ceſtors. The voice of oracles, the precepts of philoſophers, and the authority of the laws, una⯑nimouſly enforced this national obligation. By their lofty claim of ſuperior ſanctity, the Jews [388] might provoke the Polytheiſts to conſider them as an odious and impure race. By diſdaining the intercourſe of other nations they might de⯑ſerve their contempt. The laws of Moſes might be for the moſt part frivolous or abſurd; yet ſince they had been received during many ages by a large ſociety, his followers were juſtified by the example of mankind; and it was univer⯑ſally acknowledged, that they had a right to practiſe what it would have been criminal in them to neglect. But this principle which pro⯑tected the Jewiſh ſynagogue, afforded not any favour or ſecurity to the primitive church. By embracing the faith of the Goſpel, the Chriſtians incurred the ſuppoſed guilt of an unnatural and unpardonable offence. They diſſolved the ſacred ties of cuſtom and education, violated the religi⯑ous inſtitutions of their country, and preſump⯑tuouſly deſpiſed whatever their fathers had be⯑lieved as true, or had reverenced as ſacred. Nor was this apoſtacy (if we may uſe the expreſſion) merely of a partial or local kind; ſince the pious deſerter who withdrew himſelf from the temples of Egypt or Syria, would equally diſdain to ſeek an aſylum in thoſe of Athens or Carthage. Every Chriſtian rejected with contempt the ſuperſtitions of his family, his city, and his province. The whole body of Chriſtians unanimouſly refuſed to hold any communion with the gods of Rome, of the empire, and of mankind. It was in vain that the oppreſſed believer aſſerted the inalienable rights of conſcience and private judgment. Though his ſituation might excite the pity, his [389] arguments could never reach the underſtanding, either of the philoſophic or of the believing part of the Pagan world. To their apprehenſions, it was no leſs a matter of ſurpriſe, that any indi⯑viduals ſhould entertain ſcruples againſt comply⯑ing with the eſtabliſhed mode of worſhip, than if they had conceived a ſudden abhorrence to the manners, the dreſs, or the language of their na⯑tive country ⁸.

The ſurpriſe of the Pagans was ſoon ſucceed⯑ed Chriſtia⯑nity accuſ⯑ed of athe⯑iſm, and miſtaken by the peo⯑ple and philoſo⯑phers. by reſentment; and the moſt pious of men were expoſed to the unjuſt but dangerous impu⯑tation of impiety. Malice and prejudice con⯑curred in repreſenting the Chriſtians as a ſociety of atheiſts, who, by the moſt daring attack on the religious conſtitution of the empire, had me⯑rited the ſevereſt animadverſion of the civil ma⯑giſtrate. They had ſeparated themſelves (they gloried in the confeſſion) from every mode of ſuperſtition which was received in any part of the globe by the various temper of polytheiſm: but it was not altogether ſo evident what deity, or what form of worſhip, they had ſubſtituted to the gods and temples of antiquity. The pure and ſublime idea which they entertained of the Su⯑preme Being eſcaped the groſs conception of the Pagan multitude, who were at a loſs to diſcover [390] a ſpiritual and ſolitary God, that was neither re⯑preſented under any corporeal figure or viſible ſymbol, nor was adored with the accuſtomed pomp of libations and feſtivals, of altars and ſacrifices ⁹. The ſages of Greece and Rome, who had elevated their minds to the contempla⯑tion of the exiſtence and attributes of the Firſt Cauſe, were induced by reaſon or by vanity to reſerve for themſelves and their choſen diſciples the privilege of this philoſophical devotion ¹⁰. They were far from admitting the prejudices of mankind as the ſtandard of truth, but they con⯑ſidered them as flowing from the original diſ⯑poſition of human nature; and they ſuppoſed that any popular mode of faith and worſhip which preſumed to diſclaim the aſſiſtance of the ſenſes, would, in proportion as it receded from ſuper⯑ſtition, find itſelf incapable of reſtraining the wanderings of the fancy and the viſions of fana⯑ticiſm. The careleſs glance which men of wit and learning condeſcended to caſt on the Chriſ⯑tian revelation, ſerved only to confirm their haſty opinion, and to perſuade them, that the principle, which they might have revered, of the divine unity, was defaced by the wild enthuſiaſm, [391] and annihilated by the airy ſpeculations, of the new ſectaries. The author of a celebrated dia⯑logue, which has been attributed to Lucian, whilſt he affects to treat the myſterious ſubject of the Trinity in a ſtyle of ridicule and contempt, betrays his own ignorance of the weakneſs of human reaſon, and of the inſcrutable nature of the Divine perfections ¹¹.

It might appear leſs ſurpriſing, that the found⯑er of Chriſtianity ſhould not only be revered by his diſciples as a ſage and a prophet, but that he ſhould be adored as a God. The Polytheiſts were diſpoſed to adopt every article of faith, which ſeemed to offer any reſemblance, however diſtant or imperfect, with the popular mythology; and the legends of Bacchus, of Hercules, and of Aeſculapius, had, in ſome meaſure, prepared their imagination for the appearance of the Son of God under a human form ¹². But they were aſtoniſhed that the Chriſtians ſhould abandon the temples of thoſe ancient heroes, who, in the [392] infancy of the world, had invented arts, inſti⯑tuted laws, and vanquiſhed the tyrants or mon⯑ſters who infeſted the earth; in order to chooſe for the excluſive object of their religious wor⯑ſhip, an obſcure teacher, who, in a recent age, and among a barbarous people, had fallen a ſa⯑crifice either to the malice of his own country⯑men, or to the jealouſy of the Roman govern⯑ment. The Pagan multitude, reſerving their gratitude for temporal benefits alone, rejected the ineſtimable preſent of life and immortality, which was offered to mankind by Jeſus of Nazareth. His mild conſtancy in the midſt of cruel and voluntary ſufferings, his univerſal benevolence, and the ſublime ſimplicity of his actions and cha⯑racter, were inſufficient, in the opinion of thoſe carnal men, to compenſate for the want of fame, of empire, and of ſucceſs; and whilſt they re⯑fuſed to acknowledge his ſtupendous triumph over the powers of darkneſs and of the grave, they miſrepreſented, or they inſulted, the equi⯑vocal birth, wandering life, and ignominious death, of the divine Author of Chriſtianity ¹³.

The perſonal guilt which every Chriſtian had The union and aſſem⯑blies of the Chriſtians conſidered as a dan⯑gerous conſpiracy. contracted, in thus preferring his private ſenti⯑ment to the national religion, was aggravated in a very high degree by the number and union of the criminals. It is well known, and has been already obſerved, that Roman policy viewed with [393] the utmoſt jealouſy and diſtruſt any aſſociation among its ſubjects; and that the privileges of private corporations, though formed for the moſt harmleſs or beneficial purpoſes, were beſtowed with a very ſparing hand ¹⁴. The religious aſ⯑ſemblies of the Chriſtians, who had ſeparated themſelves from the public worſhip, appeared of a much leſs innocent nature: they were illegal in their principle, and in their conſequences might become dangerous; nor were the empe⯑rors conſcious that they violated the laws of juſ⯑tice, when, for the peace of ſociety, they pro⯑hibited thoſe ſecret and ſometimes nocturnal meetings ¹⁵. The pious diſobedience of the Chriſtians made their conduct, or perhaps their deſigns, appear in a much more ſerious and cri⯑minal light; and the Roman princes, who might perhaps have ſuffered themſelves to be diſarmed by a ready ſubmiſſion, deeming their honour concerned in the execution of their commands, ſometimes attempted, by rigorous puniſhments, to ſubdue this independent ſpirit, which boldly acknowledged an authority ſuperior to that of the magiſtrate. The extent and duration of this ſpiritual conſpiracy ſeemed to render it every day more deſerving of his animadverſion. We have already ſeen that the active and ſucceſsful zeal of [394] the Chriſtians had inſenſibly diffuſed them through every province and almoſt every city of the em⯑pire. The new converts ſeemed to renounce their family and country, that they might con⯑nect themſelves in an indiſſoluble band of union with a peculiar ſociety, which every where aſſumed a different character from the reſt of mankind. Their gloomy and auſtere aſpect, their abhor⯑rence of the common buſineſs and pleaſures of life, and their frequent predictions of impending calamities ¹⁶, inſpired the Pagans with the appre⯑henſion of ſome danger, which would ariſe from the new ſect, the more alarming as it was the more obſcure. ‘Whatever, ſays Pliny, may be the principle of their conduct, their inflex⯑ible obſtinacy appeared deſerving of puniſh⯑ment ¹⁷.’

The precautions with which the diſciples of Chriſt performed the offices of religion were at Their manners calumni⯑ated. firſt dictated by fear and neceſſity; but they were continued from choice. By imitating the awful ſecreſy which reigned in the Eleuſinian myſteries, the Chriſtians had flattered themſelves that they ſhould render their ſacred inſtitutions more re⯑ſpectable in the eyes of the Pagan world ¹⁸. But [395] the event, as it often happens to the operations of ſubtile policy, deceived their wiſhes and their expectations. It was concluded, that they only concealed, what they would have bluſhed to diſ⯑cloſe. Their miſtaken prudence afforded an op⯑portunity for malice to invent, and for ſuſpi⯑cious credulity to believe, the horrid tales which deſcribed the Chriſtians as the moſt wicked of human kind, who practiſed in their dark receſſes every abomination that a depraved fancy could ſuggeſt, and who ſolicited the favour of their unknown God by the ſacrifice of every moral virtue. There were many who pretended to confeſs or to relate the ceremonies of this ab⯑horred ſociety. It was aſſerted, ‘that a new⯑born infant, entirely covered over with flour, was preſented, like ſome myſtic ſymbol of ini⯑tiation, to the knife of the proſelyte, who un⯑knowingly inflicted many a ſecret and mortal wound on the innocent victim of his error; that as ſoon as the cruel deed was perpetrated, the ſectaries drank up the blood, greedily tore aſunder the quivering members, and pledged themſelves to eternal ſecreſy, by a mutual conſciouſneſs of guilt. It was as confidently affirmed, that this inhuman ſacrifice was ſuc⯑ceeded by a ſuitable entertainment, in which intemperance ſerved as a provocative to brutal luſt; till, at the appointed moment, the lights were ſuddenly extinguiſhed, ſhame was ba⯑niſhed, nature was forgotten; and, as acci⯑dent might direct, the darkneſs of the night [396] was polluted by the inceſtuous commerce of ſiſters and brothers, of ſons and of mo⯑thers ¹⁹.’

But the peruſal of the ancient apologies was Their im⯑prudent defence. ſufficient to remove even the ſlighteſt ſuſpicion from the mind of a candid adverſary. The Chriſtians, with the intrepid ſecurity of inno⯑cence, appeal from the voice of rumour to the equity of the magiſtrates. They acknowledge, that if any proof can be produced of the crimes which calumny has imputed to them, they are worthy of the moſt ſevere puniſhment. They provoke the puniſhment, and they challenge the proof. At the ſame time they urge, with equal truth and propriety, that the charge is not leſs devoid of probability, than it is deſtitute of evi⯑dence; they aſk, whether any one can ſeriouſly believe that the pure and holy precepts of the Goſpel, which ſo frequently reſtrain the uſe of the moſt lawful enjoyments, ſhould inculcate the practice of the moſt abominable crimes; that a large ſociety ſhould reſolve to diſhonour itſelf in the eyes of its own members; and that a great number of perſons of either ſex, and every age and character, inſenſible to the fear of death or infamy, ſhould conſent to violate thoſe principles which nature and education had imprinted moſt [397] deeply in their minds ²⁰. Nothing, it ſhould ſeem, could weaken the force or deſtroy the ef⯑fect of ſo unanſwerable a juſtification, unleſs it were the injudicious conduct of the apologiſts themſelves, who betrayed the common cauſe of religion, to gratify their devout hatred to the domeſtic enemies of the church. It was ſome⯑times faintly inſinuated, and ſometimes boldly aſſerted, that the ſame bloody ſacrifices, and the ſame inceſtuous feſtivals, which were ſo falſely aſcribed to the orthodox believers, were in reality celebrated by the Marcionites, by the Carpocra⯑tians, and by ſeveral other ſects of the Gnoſtics, who, notwithſtanding they might deviate into the paths of hereſy, were ſtill actuated by the ſentiments of men, and ſtill governed by the precepts of Chriſtianity ²¹. Accuſations of a ſimilar kind were retorted upon the church by the ſchiſmatics who had departed from its com⯑munion ²², and it was confeſſed on all ſides, that [398] the moſt ſcandalous licentiouſneſs of manners prevailed among great numbers of thoſe who affected the name of Chriſtians. A Pagan magiſtrate, who poſſeſſed neither leiſure nor abilities to diſcern the almoſt imperceptible line which divides the orthodox faith from heretical pravity, might eaſily have imagined that their mutual animoſity had extorted the diſcovery of their common guilt. It was fortunate for the repoſe, or at leaſt for the reputation, of the firſt Chriſtians, that the magiſtrates ſometimes pro⯑ceeded with more temper and moderation than is uſually conſiſtent with religious zeal, and that they reported, as the impartial reſult of their judicial inquiry, that the ſectaries, who had de⯑ſerted the eſtabliſhed worſhip, appeared to them ſincere in their profeſſions, and blameleſs in their manners; however they might incur, by their abſurd and exceſſive ſuperſtition, the cenſure of the laws ²³.

Hiſtory, which undertakes to record the tranſ⯑actions Idea of the conduct of the empe⯑rors to⯑wards the Chriſtians. of the paſt, for the inſtruction of future, ages; would ill deſerve that honourable office, if ſhe condeſcended to plead the cauſe of tyrants, or to juſtify the maxims of perſecution. It muſt, however, be acknowledged, that the conduct of the emperors who appeared the leaſt favourable [399] to the primitive church, is by no means ſo cri⯑minal as that of modern ſovereigns, who have employed the arm of violence and terror againſt the religious opinions of any part of their ſub⯑jects. From their reflections, or even from their own feelings, a Charles V. or a Louis XIV. might have acquired a juſt knowledge of the rights of conſcience, of the obligation of faith, and of the innocence of error. But the princes and magiſtrates of ancient Rome were ſtrangers to thoſe principles which inſpired and authoriſed the inflexible obſtinacy of the Chriſtians in the cauſe of truth, nor could they themſelves diſ⯑cover in their own breaſts, any motive which would have prompted them to refuſe a legal, and as it were a natural, ſubmiſſion to the ſacred inſtitutions of their country. The ſame reaſon which contributes to alleviate the guilt, muſt have tended to abate the rigour, of their perſe⯑cutions. As they were actuated, not by the furious zeal of bigots, but by the temperate po⯑licy of legiſlators, contempt muſt often have relaxed, and humanity muſt frequently have ſuſ⯑pended the execution of thoſe laws, which they enacted againſt the humble and obſcure followers of Chriſt. From the general view of their cha⯑racter and motives we might naturally conclude: I. That a conſiderable time elapſed before they conſidered the new ſectaries as an object deſerv⯑ing of the attention of government. II. That in the conviction of any of their ſubjects who were accuſed of ſo very ſingular a crime, they [400] proceeded with caution and reluctance. III. That they were moderate in the uſe of puniſhments; and IV. That the afflicted church enjoyed many intervals of peace and tranquillity. Notwith⯑ſtanding the careleſs indifference which the moſt copious and the moſt minute of the Pagan writers have ſhewn to the affairs of the Chriſ⯑tians ²⁴, it may ſtill be in our power to confirm each of theſe probable ſuppoſitions, by the evi⯑dence of authentic facts.

I. By the wiſe diſpenſation of Providence, a They ne⯑glected the Chriſtians as a ſect of Jews. myſterious veil was caſt over the infancy of the church, which, till the faith of the Chriſtians was matured, and their numbers were multiplied, ſerved to protect them not only from the malice but even from the knowledge of the pagan world. The ſlow and gradual abolition of the Moſaic ceremonies afforded a ſafe and innocent diſguiſe to the more early proſelytes of the Goſpel. As they were far the greater part of the race of Abraham, they were diſtinguiſhed by the peculiar mark of circumciſion, offered up their devotions in the Temple of Jeruſalem till its final deſtruction, and received both the Law and the Prophets as the genuine inſpirations of the Deity. The Gentile converts, who by a ſpi⯑ritual adoption had been aſſociated to the hope of Iſrael, were likewiſe confounded under the [401] garb and appearance of Jews ²⁵, and as the Po⯑lytheiſts paid leſs regard to articles of faith than to the external worſhip, the new ſect, which carefully concealed, or faintly announced, its future greatneſs and ambition, was permitted to ſhelter itſelf under the general toleration which was granted to an ancient and celebrated people in the Roman empire. It was not long, per⯑haps, before the Jews themſelves, animated with a fiercer zeal and a more jealous faith, perceived the gradual ſeparation of their Nazarene bre⯑thren from the doctrine of the ſynagogue; and they would gladly have extinguiſhed the dan⯑gerous hereſy in the blood of its adherents. But the decrees of heaven had already diſarmed their malice; and though they might ſometimes exert the licentious privilege of ſedition, they no longer poſſeſſed the adminiſtration of criminal juſtice; nor did they find it eaſy to infuſe into the calm breaſt of a Roman magiſtrate the rancour of their own zeal and prejudice. The provincial governors declared themſelves ready to liſten to any accuſation that might affect the public ſafety: but as ſoon as they were informed, that it was a queſtion not of facts but of words, a diſpute relating only to the interpretation of the Jewiſh laws and prophecies, they deemed it unworthy of the majeſty of Rome ſeriouſly to diſcuſs the obſcure differences which might ariſe among a [402] barbarous and ſuperſtitious people. The inno⯑cence of the firſt Chriſtians was protected by ig⯑norance and contempt; and the tribunal of the pagan magiſtrate often proved their moſt aſſured refuge againſt the fury of the ſynagogue ²⁶. If indeed we were diſpoſed to adopt the traditions of a too credulous antiquity, we might relate the diſtant peregrinations, the wonderful at⯑chievements, and the various deaths of the twelve apoſtles: but a more accurate inquiry will induce us to doubt, whether any of thoſe perſons who had been witneſſes to the miracles of Chriſt were permitted beyond the limits of Paleſtine, to ſeal with their blood the truth of their teſtimony ²⁷. From the ordinary term of human life, it may very naturally be preſumed that moſt of them were deceaſed before the diſ⯑content of the Jews broke out into that furious war, which was terminated only by the ruin of Jeruſalem. During a long period, from the death of Chriſt to that memorable rebellion, we cannot diſcover any traces of Roman intole⯑rance, unleſs they are to be found in the ſudden, the tranſient, but the cruel perſecution, which [403] was exerciſed by Nero againſt the Chriſtians of the capital, thirty-five years after the former, and only two years before the latter of thoſe great events. The character of the philoſophic hiſtorian, to whom we are principally indebted for the knowledge of this ſingular tranſaction, would alone be ſufficient to recommend it to our moſt attentive conſideration.

In the tenth year of the reign of Nero, the The fire of Rome un⯑der the reign of Nero. capital of the empire was afflicted by a fire which raged beyond the memory or example of former ages ²⁸. The monuments of Grecian art and of Roman virtue, the trophies of the Punic and Gallic wars, the moſt holy temples, and the moſt ſplendid palaces, were involved in one common deſtruction. Of the fourteen regions or quarters into which Rome was divided, four only ſubſiſted entire, three were levelled with the ground, and the remaining ſeven, which had experienced the fury of the flames, diſplayed a melancholy proſpect of ruin and deſolation. The vigilance of government appears not to have neglected any of the precautions which might alleviate the ſenſe of ſo dreadful a calamity. The Imperial gardens were thrown open to the diſtreſſed multitude, temporary buildings were erected for their accommodation, and a plentiful ſupply of corn and proviſions was diſtributed at [404] a very moderate price ²⁹. The moſt generous policy ſeemed to have dictated the edicts which regulated the diſpoſition of the ſtreets and the conſtruction of private houſes; and as it uſually happens, in an age of proſperity, the conflagra⯑tion of Rome, in the courſe of a few years, pro⯑duced a new city, more regular and more beau⯑tiful than the former. But all the prudence and humanity affected by Nero on this occaſion were inſufficient to preſerve him from the popular ſuſpicion. Every crime might be imputed to the aſſaſſin of his wife and mother; nor could the prince, who proſtituted his perſon and dig⯑nity on the theatre, be deemed incapable of the moſt extravagant folly. The voice of rumour accuſed the emperor as the incendiary of his own capital; and as the moſt incredible ſtories are the beſt adapted to the genius of an enraged people, it was gravely reported, and firmly be⯑lieved, that Nero, enjoying the calamity which he had occaſioned, amuſed himſelf with ſinging to his lyre the deſtruction of ancient Troy ³⁰. To divert a ſuſpicion, which the power of de⯑ſpotiſm was unable to ſuppreſs, the emperor re⯑ſolved to ſubſtitute in his own place ſome ficti⯑tious criminals. ‘With this view (continues [405] Tacitus) he inflicted the moſt exquiſite tor⯑tures on thoſe men, who, under the vulgar appellation of Chriſtians, were already branded Cruel pu⯑niſhment of the Chriſtians, as the in⯑cendiaries of the city. with deſerved infamy. They derived their name and origin from Chriſt, who in the reign of Tiberius had ſuffered death, by the ſentence of the procurator Pontius Pilate ³¹. For a while, this dire ſuperſtition was checked; but it again burſt forth; and not only ſpread itſelf over Judaea, the firſt ſeat of this miſ⯑chievous ſect, but was even introduced into Rome, the common aſylum which receives and protects, whatever is impure, whatever is atrocious. The confeſſions of thoſe who were ſeized, diſcovered a great multitude of their accomplices, and they were all convicted, not ſo much for the crime of ſetting fire to the city, as for their hatred of human kind ³². [406] They died in torments, and their torments were embittered by inſult and deriſion. Some were nailed on croſſes; others ſewn up in the ſkins of wild beaſts, and expoſed to the fury of dogs: others again, ſmeared over with combuſtible materials, were uſed as torches to illuminate the darkneſs of the night. The gardens of Nero were deſtined for the melan⯑choly ſpectacle, which was accompanied with a horſe race, and honoured with the preſence of the emperor, who mingled with the popu⯑lace in the dreſs and attitude of a charioteer. The guilt of the Chriſtians deſerved indeed the moſt exemplary puniſhment, but the pub⯑lic abhorrence was changed into commiſera⯑tion, from the opinion that thoſe unhappy wretches were ſacrificed, not ſo much to the public welfare, as to the cruelty of a jealous tyrant ³³.’ Thoſe who ſurvey with a curious eye the revolutions of mankind, may obſerve, that the gardens and circus of Nero on the Va⯑tican, which were polluted with the blood of the firſt Chriſtians, have been rendered ſtill more famous, by the triumph and by the abuſe of the [407] perſecuted religion. On the ſame ſpot ³⁴, a temple, which far ſurpaſſes the ancient glories of the Capitol, has been ſince erected by the Chriſtian Pontiffs, who, deriving their claim of univerſal dominion from an humble fiſherman of Galilee, have ſucceeded to the throne of the Caeſars, given laws to the barbarian conquerors of Rome, and extended their ſpiritual juriſdiction from the coaſt of the Baltic to the ſhores of the Pacific Ocean.

But it would be improper to diſmiſs this ac⯑count of Nero's perſecution, till we have made ſome obſervations, that may ſerve to remove the difficulties with which it is perplexed, and to throw ſome light on the ſubſequent hiſtory of the church.

1. The moſt ſceptical criticiſm is obliged to Remarks on the paſ⯑ſage of Ta⯑citus rela⯑tive to the perſecu⯑tion of the Chriſtians by Nero. reſpect the truth of this extraordinary fact, and the integrity of this celebrated paſſage of Ta⯑citus. The former is confirmed by the diligent and accurate Suetonius, who mentions the pu⯑niſhment which Nero inflicted on the Chriſtians, a ſect of men who had embraced a new and criminal ſuperſtition ³⁵. The latter may be proved by the conſent of the moſt ancient ma⯑nuſcripts; by the inimitable character of the ſtyle of Tacitus; by his reputation, which [408] guarded his text from the interpolations of pious fraud; and by the purport of his narration, which accuſed the firſt Chriſtians of the moſt atrocious crimes, without inſinuating that they poſſeſſed any miraculous or even magical powers above the reſt of mankind ³⁶. 2. Notwithſtand⯑ing it is probable that Tacitus was born ſome years before the fire of Rome ³⁷, he could derive only from reading and converſation the know⯑ledge of an event which happened during his infancy. Before he gave himſelf to the Public, he calmly waited till his genius had attained its full maturity, and he was more than forty years of age, when a grateful regard for the memory of the virtuous Agricola, extorted from him the moſt early of thoſe hiſtorical compoſitions which will delight and inſtruct the moſt diſtant poſte⯑rity. After making a trial of his ſtrength in the life of Agricola and the deſcription of Ger⯑many, he conceived, and at length executed, a [409] more arduous work; the hiſtory of Rome, in thirty books, from the fall of Nero to the ac⯑ceſſion of Nerva. The adminiſtration of Nerva introduced an age of juſtice and proſperity, which Tacitus had deſtined for the occupation of his old age ³⁸; but when he took a nearer view of his ſubject, judging, perhaps, that it was a more honourable, or a leſs invidious office, to record the vices of paſt tyrants, than to celebrate the virtues of a reigning monarch, he choſe rather to relate, under the form of annals, the actions of the four immediate ſucceſſors of Auguſtus. To collect, to diſpoſe, and to adorn a ſeries of fourſcore years, in an immortal work, every ſen⯑tence of which is pregnant with the deepeſt ob⯑ſervations and the moſt lively images, was an undertaking ſufficient to exerciſe the genius of Tacitus himſelf during the greateſt part of his life. In the laſt years of the reign of Trajan, whilſt the victorious monarch extended the power of Rome beyond its ancient limits, the hiſtorian was deſcribing, in the ſecond and fourth books of his annals, the tyranny of Tiberius ³⁹; and the emperor Hadrian muſt have ſucceeded to the throne, before Tacitus, in the regular proſecu⯑tion of his work, could relate the fire of the capital and the cruelty of Nero towards the un⯑fortunate Chriſtians. At the diſtance of ſixty years, it was the duty of the annaliſt to adopt [410] the narratives of contemporaries; but it was na⯑tural for the philoſopher to indulge himſelf in the deſcription of the origin, the progreſs, and the character of the new ſect, not ſo much ac⯑cording to the knowledge or prejudices of the age of Nero, as according to thoſe of the time of Hadrian. 3. Tacitus very frequently truſts to the curioſity or reflection of his readers to ſupply thoſe intermediate circumſtances and ideas, which, in his extreme conciſeneſs, he has thought proper to ſuppreſs. We may therefore preſume to imagine ſome probable cauſe which could direct the cruelty of Nero againſt the Chriſtians of Rome, whoſe obſcurity, as well as innocence, ſhould have ſhielded them from his indignation, and even from his notice. The Jews, who were numerous in the capital, and oppreſſed in their own country, were a much fitter object for the ſuſpicions of the emperor and of the people; nor did it ſeem unlikely that a vanquiſhed nation, who already diſcovered their abhorrence of the Roman yoke, might have recourſe to the moſt atrocious means of gratifying their implacable revenge. But the Jews poſſeſſed very powerful advocates in the palace, and even in the heart of the tyrant; his wife and miſtreſs, the beautiful Poppaea, and a favourite player of the race of Abraham, who had already employed their interceſſion in behalf of the obnoxious people ⁴⁰. In their room it. [411] was neceſſary to offer ſome other victims, and it might eaſily be ſuggeſted that, although the genuine followers of Moſes were innocent of the fire of Rome, there had ariſen among them a new and pernicious ſect of GALILAEANS, which was capable of the moſt horrid crimes. Under the appellation of GALILAEANS, two diſtinctions of men were confounded, the moſt oppoſite to each other in their manners and principles; the diſciples who had embraced the faith of Jeſus of Nazareth ⁴¹, and the zealots who had followed the ſtandard of Judas the Gaulonite ⁴². The former were the friends, the latter were the enemies, of humankind; and the only reſem⯑blance between them conſiſted in the ſame in⯑flexible conſtancy, which, in the defence of their cauſe, rendered them inſenſible of death and tortures. The followers of Judas, who impelled their countrymen into rebellion, were ſoon buried under the ruins of Jeruſalem; whilſt thoſe of Jeſus, known by the more celebrated name of Chriſtians, diffuſed themſelves over the Roman empire. How natural was it for Tacitus, in the time of Hadrian, to appropriate to the Chriſtians, [412] the guilt and the ſufferings, which he might, with far greater truth and juſtice, have attributed to a ſect whoſe odious memory was almoſt ex⯑tinguiſhed! 4. Whatever opinion may be enter⯑tained of this conjecture (for it is no more than a conjecture), it is evident that the effect, as well as the cauſe, of Nero's perſecution, were con⯑fined to the walls of Rome ⁴³; that the religious tenets of the Galilaeans, or Chriſtians, were never made a ſubject of puniſhment, or even of inquiry; and that, as the idea of their ſufferings was, for a long time, connected with the idea of cruelty and injuſtice, the moderation of ſucceed⯑ing princes inclined them to ſpare a ſect, op⯑preſſed by a tyrant, whoſe rage had been uſually directed againſt virtue and innocence.

It is ſomewhat remarkable, that the flames of Oppreſſion of the Jews and Chriſ⯑tians by Domitian. war conſumed almoſt at the ſame time the tem⯑ple of Jeruſalem and the Capitol of Rome ⁴⁴; and it appears no leſs ſingular, that the tribute which devotion had deſtined to the former, ſhould have been converted by the power of an aſſaulting victor to reſtore and adorn the ſplen⯑dour [413] of the latter ⁴⁵. The emperors levied a general capitation tax on the Jewiſh people; and although the ſum aſſeſſed on the head of each individual was inconſiderable, the uſe for which it was deſigned, and the ſeverity with which it was exacted, were conſidered as an intolerable grievance ⁴⁶. Since the officers of the revenue extended their unjuſt claim to many perſons who were ſtrangers to the blood or reli⯑gion of the Jews, it was impoſſible that the Chriſtians, who had ſo often ſheltered themſelves under the ſhade of the ſynagogue, ſhould now eſcape this rapacious perſecution. Anxious as they were to avoid the ſlighteſt infection of ido⯑latry, their conſcience forbade them to contri⯑bute to the honour of that daemon who had aſſumed the character of the Capitoline Jupiter. As a very numerous though declining party among the Chriſtians ſtill adhered to the law of Moſes, their efforts to diſſemble their Jewiſh origin were detected by the deciſive teſt of cir⯑cumciſion ⁴⁷: nor were the Roman magiſtrates at leiſure to inquire into the difference of their [414] religious tenets. Among the Chriſtians, who were brought before the tribunal of the empe⯑ror, or, as it ſeems more probable, before that of the procurator of Judaea, two perſons are ſaid to have appeared, diſtinguiſhed by their ex⯑traction, which was more truly noble than that of the greateſt monarchs. Theſe were the grand⯑ſons of St. Jude the apoſtle, who himſelf was the brother of Jeſus Chriſt ⁴⁸. Their natural pre⯑tenſions to the throne of David might perhaps attract the reſpect of the people, and excite the jealouſy of the governor; but the meanneſs of their garb, and the ſimplicity of their anſwers, ſoon convinced him that they were neither de⯑ſirous nor capable of diſturbing the peace of the Roman empire. They frankly confeſſed their royal origin, and their near relation to the Meſ⯑ſiah; but they diſclaimed any temporal views, and profeſſed that his kingdom, which they devoutly expected, was purely of a ſpiritual and angelic nature. When they were examined con⯑cerning their fortune and occupation, they ſhewed their hands hardened with daily labour, and declared that they derived their whole ſubſiſtence [415] from the cultivation of a farm near the village of Cocaba, of the extent of about twenty-four Engliſh acres ⁴⁹, and of the value of nine thou⯑ſand drachms, or three hundred pounds ſterling. The grandſons of St. Jude were diſmiſſed with compaſſion and contempt ⁵⁰.

But although the obſcurity of the houſe of Execution of Clemens the conſul. David might protect them from the ſuſpicions of a tyrant, the preſent greatneſs of his own family alarmed the puſillanimous temper of Do⯑mitian, which could only be appeaſed by the blood of thoſe Romans whom he either feared, or hated, or eſteemed. Of the two ſons of his uncle Flavius Sabinus ⁵¹, the elder was ſoon con⯑victed of treaſonable intentions, and the younger, who bore the name of Flavius Clemens, was indebted for his ſafety to his want of courage and ability ⁵². The emperor, for a long time, diſtin⯑guiſhed ſo harmleſs a kinſman by his favour and protection, beſtowed on him his own niece Do⯑mitilla, adopted the children of that marriage to the hope of the ſucceſſion, and inveſted their father with the honours of the conſulſhip. But he had ſcarcely finiſhed the term of his annual [416] magiſtracy, when on a ſlight pretence he was condemned and executed; Domitilla was baniſhed to a deſolate iſland on the coaſt of Campania ⁵³; and ſentences either of death or of confiſcation were pronounced againſt a great number of per⯑ſons who were involved in the ſame accuſation. The guilt imputed to their charge was that of Atheiſm and Jewiſh manners ⁵⁴; a ſingular aſſocia⯑tion of ideas, which cannot with any propriety be applied except to the Chriſtians, as they were obſcurely and imperfectly viewed by the magiſ⯑trates and by the writers of that period. On the ſtrength of ſo probable an interpretation, and too eagerly admitting the ſuſpicions of a tyrant as an evidence of their honourable crime, the church has placed both Clemens and Domitilla among its firſt martyrs, and has branded the cruelty of Domitian with the name of the ſecond perſecution. But this perſecution (if it deſerves that epithet) was of no long duration. A few months after the death of Clemens, and the baniſhment of Domitilla, Stephen, a freedman belonging to the latter, who had enjoyed the favour, but who had not ſurely embraced the faith, of his miſtreſs, aſſaſſinated the emperor in [417] his palace ⁵⁵. The memory of Domitian was condemned by the ſenate; his acts were reſcind⯑ed; his exiles recalled; and under the gentle adminiſtration of Nerva, while the innocent were reſtored to their rank and fortunes, even the moſt guilty either obtained pardon or eſcaped puniſh⯑ment ⁵⁶.

II. About ten years afterwards, under the reign Ignorance of Pliny concerning the Chriſ⯑tians. of Trajan, the younger Pliny was intruſted by his friend and maſter with the government of Bithynia and Pontus. He ſoon found himſelf at a loſs to determine by what rule of juſtice or of law he ſhould direct his conduct in the execution of an office the moſt repugnant to his humanity. Pliny had never aſſiſted at any judicial proceed⯑ings againſt the Chriſtians, with whoſe name alone he ſeems to be acquainted; and he was totally uninformed with regard to the nature of their guilt, the method of their conviction, and the degree of their puniſhment. In this per⯑plexity he had recourſe to his uſual expedient, of ſubmitting to the wiſdom of Trajan an impartial, and in ſome reſpects, a favourable, account of the new ſuperſtition, requeſting the emperor, that he would condeſcend to reſolve his doubts, and to inſtruct his ignorance ⁵⁷. The life of Pliny had been employed in the acquiſition of learn⯑ing, [418] and in the buſineſs of the world. Since the age of nineteen he had pleaded with diſtinction in the tribunals of Rome ⁵⁸, filled a place in the ſenate, had been inveſted with the honours of the conſulſhip, and had formed very numerous connexions with every order of men, both in Italy and in the provinces. From his ignorance there⯑fore we may derive ſome uſeful information. We may aſſure ourſelves, that when he accepted the government of Bithynia, there were no gene⯑ral laws or decrees of the ſenate in force againſt the Chriſtians; that neither Trajan nor any of his virtuous predeceſſors, whoſe edicts were re⯑ceived into the civil and criminal juriſprudence, had publicly declared their intentions concerning the new ſect; and that whatever proceedings had been carried on againſt the Chriſtians, there were none of ſufficient weight and authority to eſta⯑bliſh a precedent for the conduct of a Roman magiſtrate.

The anſwer of Trajan, to which the Chriſtians Trajan and his ſucceſ⯑ſors eſta⯑bliſh a le⯑gal mode of pro⯑ceeding againſt them. of the ſucceeding age have frequently appealed, diſcovers as much regard for juſtice and huma⯑nity as could be reconciled with his miſtaken notions of religious policy ⁵⁹. Inſtead of diſ⯑playing the implacable zeal of an inquiſitor, [419] anxious to diſcover the moſt minute particles of hereſy, and exulting in the number of his vic⯑tims, the emperor expreſſes much more ſolicitude to protect the ſecurity of the innocent, than to prevent the eſcape of the guilty. He acknow⯑ledges the difficulty of fixing any general plan; but he lays down two ſalutary rules, which often afforded relief and ſupport to the diſtreſſed Chriſ⯑tians. Though he directs the magiſtrates to puniſh ſuch perſons as are legally convicted, he prohibits them, with a very humane inconſiſtency, from making any inquiries concerning the ſup⯑poſed criminals. Nor was the magiſtrate allow⯑ed to proceed on every kind of information. Anonymous charges the emperor rejects, as too repugnant to the equity of his government; and he ſtrictly requires, for the conviction of thoſe to whom the guilt of Chriſtianity is imputed, the poſitive evidence of a fair and open accuſer. It is likewiſe probable, that the perſons who aſſumed ſo invidious an office, were obliged to declare the grounds of their ſuſpicions, to ſpecify (both in reſpect to time and place) the ſecret aſſemblies, which their Chriſtian adverſary had frequented, and to diſcloſe a great number of circumſtances, which were concealed with the moſt vigilant jealouſy from the eye of the pro⯑fane. If they ſucceeded in their proſecution, they were expoſed to the reſentment of a con⯑ſiderable and active party, to the cenſure of the more liberal portion of mankind, and to the ig⯑nominy which, in every age and country, has [420] attended the character of an informer. If, on the contrary, they failed in their proofs, they incurred the ſevere and perhaps capital penalty, which, according to a law publiſhed by the em⯑peror Hadrian, was inflicted on thoſe who falſely attributed to their fellow-citizens the crime of Chriſtianity. The violence of perſonal or ſuper⯑ſtitious animoſity might ſometimes prevail over the moſt natural apprehenſions of diſgrace and danger; but it cannot ſurely be imagined, that accuſations of ſo unpromiſing an appearance were either lightly or frequently undertaken by the Pagan ſubjects of the Roman empire ⁶⁰.

The expedient which was employed to elude Popular clamours. the prudence of the laws, affords a ſufficient proof how effectually they diſappointed the miſ⯑chievous deſigns of private malice or ſuperſtitious zeal. In a large and tumultuous aſſembly the reſtraints of fear and ſhame, ſo forcible on the minds of individuals, are deprived of the greateſt part of their influence. The pious Chriſtian, as he was deſirous to obtain or to eſcape the glory of martyrdom, expected, either with im⯑patience or with terror, the ſtated returns of the public games and feſtivals. On thoſe occaſions, the inhabitants of the great cities of the empire were collected in the circus of the theatre, where every circumſtance of the place, as well as of the [421] ceremony, contributed to kindle their devotion, and to extinguiſh their humanity. Whilſt the numerous ſpectators, crowned with garlands, per⯑fumed with incenſe, purified with the blood of victims, and ſurrounded with the altars and ſta⯑tues of their tutelar deities, reſigned themſelves to the enjoyment of pleaſures, which they con⯑ſidered as an eſſential part of their religious wor⯑ſhip; they recollected that the Chriſtians alone abhorred the gods of mankind, and by their ab⯑ſence and melancholy on theſe ſolemn feſtivals, ſeemed to inſult or to lament the public felicity. If the empire had been afflicted by any recent calamity, by a plague, a famine, or an unſuc⯑ceſsful war; if the Tyber had, or if the Nile had not, riſen beyond its banks; if the earth had ſhaken, or if the temperate order of the ſea⯑ſons had been interrupted, the ſuperſtitious Pa⯑gans were convinced, that the crimes and the impiety of the Chriſtians, who were ſpared by the exceſſive lenity of the government, had at length provoked the Divine Juſtice. It was not among a licentious and exaſperated populace, that the forms of legal proceedings could be obſerved; it was not in an amphitheatre, ſtained with the blood of wild beaſts and gladiators, that the voice of compaſſion could be heard. The impatient clamours of the multitude denounced the Chriſ⯑tians as the enemies of gods and men, doomed them to the ſevereſt tortures, and venturing to accuſe by name ſome of the moſt diſtinguiſhed of the new ſectaries, required with irreſiſtible vehemence that they ſhould be inſtantly appre⯑hended [422] and caſt to the lions ⁶¹. The provincial governors and magiſtrates who preſided in the public ſpectacles were uſually inclined to gratify the inclinations, and to appeaſe the rage, of the people, by the ſacrifice of a few obnoxious vic⯑tims. But the wiſdom of the emperors protected the church from the danger of theſe tumultuous clamours and irregular accuſations, which they juſtly cenſured as repugnant both to the firmneſs and to the equity of their adminiſtration. The edicts of Hadrian and of Antoninus Pius expreſsly declared, that the voice of the multitude ſhould never be admitted as legal evidence to convict or to puniſh thoſe unfortunate perſons who had em⯑braced the enthuſiaſm of the Chriſtians ⁶².

III. Puniſhment was not the inevitable con⯑ſequence Trials of the Chriſ⯑tians. of conviction, and the Chriſtians, whoſe guilt was the moſt clearly proved by the teſti⯑mony of witneſſes, or even by their voluntary confeſſion, ſtill retained in their own power the alternative of life or death. It was not ſo much the paſt offence, as the actual reſiſtance, which excited the indignation of the magiſtrate. He was perſuaded that he offered them an eaſy par⯑don, ſince if they conſented to caſt a few grains of incenſe upon the altar, they were diſmiſſed from the tribunal in ſafety and with applauſe. [423] It was eſteemed the duty of a humane judge to endeavour to reclaim, rather than to puniſh, thoſe deluded enthuſiaſts. Varying his tone according to the age, the ſex, or the ſituation of the pri⯑ſoners, he frequently condeſcended to ſet before their eyes every circumſtance which could render life more pleaſing, or death more terrible; and to ſolicit, nay to intreat, them, that they would ſhew ſome compaſſion to themſelves, to their families, and to their friends ⁶³. If threats and perſuaſions proved ineffectual, he had often re⯑courſe to violence; the ſcourge and the rack were called in to ſupply the deficiency of argu⯑ment, and every art of cruelty was employed to ſubdue ſuch inflexible, and, as it appeared to the Pagans, ſuch criminal, obſtinacy. The ancient apologiſts of Chriſtianity have cenſured, with equal truth and ſeverity, the irregular conduct of their perſecutors, who, contrary to every principle of judicial proceeding, admitted the uſe of torture, in order to obtain, not a con⯑feſſion, but a denial, of the crime which was the object of their inquiry ⁶⁴. The monks of ſuc⯑ceeding ages, who, in their peaceful ſolitudes, entertained themſelves with diverſifying the deaths and ſufferings of the primitive martyrs, have frequently invented torments of a much more refined and ingenious nature. In particu⯑lar, [424] it has pleaſed them to ſuppoſe, that the zeal of the Roman magiſtrates, diſdaining every con⯑ſideration of moral virtue or public decency, endeavoured to ſeduce thoſe whom they were unable to vanquiſh, and that by their orders the moſt brutal violence was offered to thoſe whom they found it impoſſible to ſeduce. It is related, that pious females, who were prepared to deſpiſe death, were ſometimes condemned to a more ſevere trial, and called upon to determine whe⯑ther they ſet a higher value on their religion or on their chaſtity. The youths to whoſe licen⯑tious embraces they were abandoned, received a ſolemn exhortation from the judge, to exert their moſt ſtrenuous efforts to maintain the honour of Venus againſt the impious virgin who refuſed to burn incenſe on her altars. Their violence how⯑ever was commonly diſappointed, and the ſeaſon⯑able interpoſition of ſome miraculous power preſerved the chaſte ſpouſes of Chriſt from the diſhonour even of an involuntary defeat. We ſhould not indeed neglect to remark, that the more ancient as well as authentic memorials of the church are ſeldom polluted with theſe extra⯑vagant and indecent fictions ⁶⁵.

The total diſregard of truth and probability in Humanity of the Ro⯑man ma⯑giſtrates. the repreſentation of theſe primitive martyrdoms [425] was occaſioned by a very natural miſtake. The eccleſiaſtical writers of the fourth or fifth cen⯑turies aſcribed to the magiſtrates of Rome the ſame degree of implacable and unrelenting zeal which filled their own breaſts againſt the heretics or the idolators of their own times. It is not improbable that ſome of thoſe perſons who were raiſed to the dignities of the empire, might have imbibed the prejudices of the populace, and that the cruel diſpoſition of others might occaſionally be ſtimulated by motives of avarice or of per⯑ſonal reſentment ⁶⁶. But it is certain, and we may appeal to the grateful confeſſions of the firſt Chriſtians, that the greateſt part of thoſe magiſ⯑trates who exerciſed in the provinces the autho⯑rity of the emperor, or of the ſenate, and to whoſe hands alone the juriſdiction of life and death was intruſted, behaved like men of poliſhed manners and liberal educations, who reſpected the rules of juſtice, and who were converſant with the precepts of philoſophy. They frequently declined the odious taſk of perſecution, diſmiſſed the charge with contempt, or ſuggeſted to the accuſed Chriſtian ſome legal evaſion, by which he might elude the ſeverity of the laws ⁶⁷. When⯑ever they were inveſted with a diſcretionary [426] power ⁶⁸, they uſed it much leſs for the oppreſ⯑ſion, than for the relief and benefit of the afflicted church. They were far from condemning all the Chriſtians who were accuſed before their tribunal, and very far from puniſhing with death all thoſe who were convicted of an obſtinate adherence to the new ſuperſtition. Contenting themſelves, for the moſt part, with the milder chaſtiſements of impriſonment, exile, or ſlavery in the mines ⁶⁹, they left the unhappy victims of their juſtice ſome reaſon to hope, that a proſperous event, the acceſſion, the marriage, or the triumph of an emperor, might ſpeedily reſtore them by a gene⯑ral pardon to their former ſtate. The martyrs, Inconſider⯑able num⯑ber of mar⯑tyrs. devoted to immediate execution by the Roman magiſtrates, appear to have been ſelected from the moſt oppoſite extremes. They were either biſhops and preſbyters, the perſons the moſt diſtinguiſhed among the Chriſtians by their rank and influence, and whoſe example might ſtrike terror into the whole ſect ⁷⁰; or elſe they were [427] the meaneſt and moſt abject among them, par⯑ticularly thoſe of the ſervile condition whoſe lives were eſteemed of little value, and whoſe ſuffer⯑ings were viewed by the ancients with too care⯑leſs an indifference ⁷¹. The learned Origen, who, from his experience as well as reading, was intimately acquainted with the hiſtory of the Chriſtians, declares, in the moſt expreſs terms, that the number of martyrs was very inconſider⯑able ⁷². His authority would alone be ſufficient to annihilate that formidable army of martyrs, whoſe relics, drawn for the moſt part from the catacombs of Rome, have repleniſhed ſo many churches ⁷³, and whoſe marvellous atchievements [428] have been the ſubject of ſo many volumes of Holy Romance ⁷⁴. But the general aſſertion of Origen may be explained and confirmed by the particular teſtimony of his friend Dionyſius, who, in the immenſe city of Alexandria, and under the rigorous perſecution of Decius, reckons only ten men and ſeven women who ſuffered for the pro⯑feſſion of the Chriſtian name ⁷⁵.

During the ſame period of perſecution, the zea⯑lous, Example of Cyprian biſhop of Carthage. the eloquent, the ambitious Cyprian governed the church, not only of Carthage, but even of Africa. He poſſeſſed every quality which could engage the reverence of the faithful, or provoke the ſuſpicions and reſentment of the Pagan magiſ⯑trates. His character as well as his ſtation ſeemed to mark out that holy prelate as the moſt diſtin⯑guiſhed object of envy and of danger ⁷⁶. The experience, however, of the life of Cyprian, is ſufficient to prove, that our fancy has exag⯑gerated the perilous ſituation of a Chriſtian biſhop; and that the dangers to which he was [429] expoſed were leſs imminent than thoſe which temporal ambition is always prepared to encoun⯑ter in the purſuit of honours. Four Roman emperors, with their families, their favourites, and their adherents, periſhed by the ſword in the ſpace of ten years, during which, the biſhop of Carthage guided by his authority and elo⯑quence the counſels of the African church. It was only in the third year of his adminiſtration, that he had reaſon, during a few months, to apprehend the ſevere edicts of Decius, the vigi⯑lance His dan⯑ger and flight. of the magiſtrate, and the clamours of the multitude, who loudly demanded, that Cyprian, the leader of the Chriſtians, ſhould be thrown to the lions. Prudence ſuggeſted the neceſſity of a temporary retreat, and the voice of prudence was obeyed. He withdrew himſelf into an obſcure ſolitude, from whence he could maintain a con⯑ſtant correſpondence with the clergy and people of Carthage; and concealing himſelf till the tempeſt was paſt, he preſerved his life, without relinquiſhing either his power or his reputation. His extreme caution did not however eſcape the cenſure of the more rigid Chriſtians who lament⯑ed, or the reproaches of his perſonal enemies who inſulted, a conduct which they conſidered as a puſillanimous and criminal deſertion of the moſt ſacred duty ⁷⁷. The propriety of reſerving him⯑ſelf for the future exigencies of the church, the [430] example of ſeveral holy biſhops ⁷⁸, and the divine admonitions which, as he declares himſelf, he frequently received in viſions and extaſies, were the reaſons alleged in his juſtification ⁷⁹. But his beſt apology may be found in the cheerful reſolution, with which, about eight years after⯑wards, he ſuffered death in the cauſe of religion. The authentic hiſtory of his martyrdom has been recorded with unuſual candour and impartiality. A ſhort abſtract therefore of its moſt important circumſtances will convey the cleareſt information of the ſpirit, and of the forms, of the Roman perſecutions ⁸⁰.

When Valerian was conſul for the third, and Gallienus for the fourth, time; Paternus, pro⯑conſul A. D. 257. His baniſh⯑ment. of Africa, ſummoned Cyprian to appear in his private council-chamber. He there ac⯑quainted him with the Imperial mandate which he had juſt received ⁸¹, that thoſe who had aban⯑doned the Roman religion, ſhould immediately return to the practice of the ceremonies of their [431] anceſtors. Cyprian replied without heſitation, that he was a Chriſtian and a biſhop, devoted to the worſhip of the true and only Deity, to whom he offered up his daily ſupplications for the ſafety and proſperity of the two emperors, his lawful ſovereigns. With modeſt confidence he pleaded the privilege of a citizen, in refuſing to give any anſwer to ſome invidious and indeed illegal queſtions which the proconſul had propoſed. A ſentence of baniſhment was pronounced as the penalty of Cyprian's diſobedience; and he was conducted without delay to Curubis, a free and maritime city of Zeugitania, in a pleaſant ſitua⯑tion, a fertile territory, and at the diſtance of about forty miles from Carthage ⁸². The exiled biſhop enjoyed the conveniencies of life and the conſciouſneſs of virtue. His reputation was dif⯑fuſed over Africa and Italy; an account of his behaviour was publiſhed for the edification of the Chriſtian world ⁸³; and his ſolitude was fre⯑quently interrupted by the letters, the viſits, and the congratulations of the faithful. On the arrival of a new proconſul in the province, the fortune of Cyprian appeared for ſome time to wear a ſtill [432] more favourable aſpect. He was recalled from baniſhment; and though not yet permitted to return to Carthage, his own gardens in the neigh⯑bourhood of the capital were aſſigned for the place of his reſidence ⁸⁴.

At length, exactly one year ⁸⁵ after Cyprian His con⯑demnati⯑on. was firſt apprehended, Galerius Maximus, pro⯑conſul of Africa, received the Imperial warrant for the execution of the Chriſtian teachers. The biſhop of Carthage was ſenſible that he ſhould be ſingled out for one of the firſt victims; and the frailty of nature tempted him to withdraw him⯑ſelf by a ſecret flight, from the danger and the honour of martyrdom: but ſoon recovering that fortitude which his character required, he returned to his gardens, and patiently expected the mi⯑niſters of death. Two officers of rank, who were intruſted with that commiſſion, placed Cyprian between them in a chariot; and as the proconſul was not then at leiſure, they conducted him, not to a priſon, but to a private houſe in Carthage, which belonged to one of them. An elegant ſupper was provided for the entertainment of the biſhop, and his Chriſtian friends were permitted for the laſt time to enjoy his ſociety, whilſt the ſtreets were filled with a multitude of the faithful, [433] anxious and alarmed at the approaching fate of their ſpiritual father ⁸⁶. In the morning he ap⯑peared before the tribunal of the proconſul, who, after informing himſelf of the name and ſituation of Cyprian, commanded him to offer ſacrifice, and preſſed him to reflect on the conſequences of his diſobedience. The refuſal of Cyprian was firm and deciſive; and the magiſtrate, when he had taken the opinion of his council, pronounced with ſome reluctance the ſentence of death. It was conceived in the following terms: ‘That Thaſcius Cyprianus ſhould be immediately beheaded, as the enemy of the gods of Rome, and as the chief and ringleader of a criminal aſſociation, which he had ſeduced into an im⯑pious reſiſtance againſt the laws of the moſt holy emperors, Valerian and Gallienus ⁸⁷.’ The manner of his execution was the mildeſt and leaſt painful that could be inflicted on a perſon convicted of any capital offence: nor was the uſe of torture admitted to obtain from the biſhop of Carthage either the recantation of his prin⯑ciples, or the diſcovery of his accomplices.

As ſoon as the ſentence was proclaimed, a His mar⯑tyrdom. general cry of "We will die with him," aroſe at once among the liſtening multitude of Chriſtians [434] who waited before the palace gates. The gene⯑rous effuſions of their zeal and affection were neither ſerviceable to Cyprian nor dangerous to themſelves. He was led away under a guard of tribunes and centurions, without reſiſtance and without inſult, to the place of his execution, a ſpacious and level plain near the city, which was already filled with great numbers of ſpectators. His faithful preſbyters and deacons were permit⯑ted to accompany their holy biſhop. They aſſiſted him in laying aſide his upper garment, ſpread linen on the ground to catch the precious relics of his blood, and received his orders to beſtow five-and-twenty pieces of gold on the executioner. The martyr then covered his face with his hands, and at one blow his head was ſeparated from his body. His corpſe remained during ſome hours expoſed to the curioſity of the Gentiles: but in the night it was removed, and tranſported in a triumphal proceſſion and with a ſplendid illumination to the burial-place of the Chriſtians. The funeral of Cyprian was publicly celebrated without receiving any interruption from the Roman magiſtrates; and thoſe among the faithful who had performed the laſt offices to his perſon and his memory, were ſecure from the danger of inquiry or of puniſhment. It is remark⯑able, that of ſo great a multitude of biſhops in the province of Africa, Cyprian was the firſt who was eſteemed worthy to obtain the crown of mar⯑tyrdom ⁸⁸.

[435] It was in the choice of Cyprian either to die a martyr or to live an apoſtate: but on that choice depended the alternative of honour or Various in⯑citements to martyr⯑dom. infamy. Could we ſuppoſe that the biſhop of Carthage had employed the profeſſion of the Chriſtian faith only as the inſtrument of his avarice or ambition, it was ſtill incumbent on him to ſupport the character which he had aſſumed ⁸⁹; and, if he poſſeſſed the ſmalleſt de⯑gree of manly fortitude, rather to expoſe himſelf to the moſt cruel tortures, than by a ſingle act to exchange the reputation of a whole life, for the abhorrence of his Chriſtian brethren and the contempt of the Gentile world. But if the zeal of Cyprian was ſupported by the ſincere con⯑viction of the truth of thoſe doctrines which he preached, the crown of martyrdom muſt have appeared to him as an object of deſire rather than of terror. It is not eaſy to extract any diſtinct ideas from the vague though eloquent declama⯑tions of the Fathers, or to aſcertain the degree of immortal glory and happineſs which they con⯑fidently promiſed to thoſe who were ſo fortunate as to ſhed their blood in the cauſe of religion ⁹⁰. They inculcated with becoming diligence, that [436] the fire of martyrdom ſupplied every defect and expiated every ſin; that while the ſouls of ordi⯑nary Chriſtians were obliged to paſs through a ſlow and painful purification, the triumphant ſufferers entered into the immediate fruition of eternal bliſs, where, in the ſociety of the patri⯑archs, the apoſtles, and the prophets, they reigned with Chriſt, and acted as his aſſeſſors in the univerſal judgment of mankind. The aſſurance of a laſting reputation upon earth, a motive ſo congenial to the vanity of human nature, often ſerved to animate the courage of the martyrs. The honours which Rome or Athens beſtowed on thoſe citizens who had fallen in the cauſe of their country, were cold and unmeaning demonſtra⯑tions of reſpect, when compared with the ardent gratitude and devotion which the primitive church expreſſed towards the victorious cham⯑pions of the faith. The annual commemoration of their virtues and ſufferings was obſerved as a ſacred ceremony, and at length terminated in religious worſhip. Among the Chriſtians who had publicly confeſſed their religious principles, thoſe, who (as it very frequently happened) had been diſmiſſed from the tribunal or the priſons of the Pagan magiſtrates, obtained ſuch honours as were juſtly due to their imperfect martyrdom and their generous reſolution. The moſt pious females courted the permiſſion of imprinting kiſſes on the fetters which they had worn, and on the wounds which they had received. Their perſons were eſteemed holy, their deciſions were [437] admitted with deference, and they too often abuſed, by their ſpiritual pride and licentious manners, the pre-eminence which their zeal and intrepidity had acquired ⁹¹. Diſtinctions like theſe, whilſt they diſplay the exalted merit, be⯑tray the inconſiderable number of thoſe who ſuf⯑fered, and of thoſe who died for the profeſſion of Chriſtianity.

The ſober diſcretion of the preſent age will Ardour of the firſt Chriſtians. more readily cenſure than admire, but can more eaſily admire than imitate, the fervour of the firſt Chriſtians, who, according to the lively ex⯑preſſion of Sulpicius Severus, deſired martyrdom with more eagerneſs than his own contemporaries ſolicited a biſhopric ⁹². The epiſtles which Ig⯑natius compoſed as he was carried in chains through the cities of Aſia, breathe ſentiments the moſt repugnant to the ordinary feelings of human nature. He earneſtly beſeeches the Ro⯑mans, that when he ſhould be expoſed in the amphitheatre, they would not, by their kind but unſeaſonable interceſſion, deprive him of the crown of glory; and he declares his reſolution to provoke and irritate the wild beaſts which might be employed as the inſtruments of his [438] death ⁹³. Some ſtories are related of the courage of martyrs, who actually performed what Igna⯑tius had intended; who exaſperated the fury of the lions, preſſed the executioner to haſten his office, cheerfully leaped into the fires which were kindled to conſume them, and diſcovered a ſen⯑ſation of joy and pleaſure in the midſt of the moſt exquiſite tortures. Several examples have been preſerved of a zeal impatient of thoſe re⯑ſtraints which the emperors had provided for the ſecurity of the church. The Chriſtians ſome⯑times ſupplied by their voluntary declaration the want of an accuſer, rudely diſturbed the public ſervice of Paganiſm ⁹⁴, and ruſhing in crowds round the tribunal of the magiſtrates, called upon them to pronounce and to inflict the ſen⯑tence of the law. The behaviour of the Chriſt⯑ians was too remarkable to eſcape the notice of the ancient philoſophers; but they ſeem to have conſidered it with much leſs admiration than aſtoniſhment. Incapable of conceiving the mo⯑tives which ſometimes tranſported the fortitude of believers beyond the bounds of prudence or reaſon, they treated ſuch an eagerneſs to die as [439] the ſtrange reſult of obſtinate deſpair, of ſtupid inſenſibility, or of ſuperſtitious phrenzy ⁹⁵. ‘Un⯑happy men, exclaimed the proconſul Anto⯑ninus to the Chriſtians of Aſia, unhappy men, if you are thus weary of your lives, is it ſo difficult for you to find ropes and preci⯑pices ⁹⁶?’ He was extremely cautious (as it is obſerved by a learned and pious hiſtorian) of puniſhing men who had found no accuſers but themſelves, the Imperial laws not having made any proviſion for ſo unexpected a caſe: con⯑demning therefore a few, as a warning to their brethren, he diſmiſſed the multitude with indig⯑nation and contempt ⁹⁷. Notwithſtanding this real or affected diſdain, the intrepid conſtancy of the faithful was productive of more ſalutary effects on thoſe minds which nature or grace had diſpoſed for the eaſy reception of religious truth. On theſe melancholy occaſions, there were many among the Gentiles who pitied, who admired, and who were converted. The generous enthu⯑ſiaſm was communicated from the ſufferer to the ſpectators; and the blood of martyrs, according to a well-known obſervation, became the ſeed of the church.

[440] But although devotion had raiſed, and elo⯑quence continued to inflame, this fever of the mind, it inſenſibly gave way to the more na⯑tural Gradual relaxation. hopes and fears of the human heart, to the love of life, the apprehenſion of pain, and the horror of diſſolution. The more prudent rulers of the Church found themſelves obliged to re⯑ſtrain the indiſcreet ardour of their followers, and to diſtruſt a conſtancy which too often aban⯑doned them in the hour of trial ⁹⁸. As the lives of the faithful became leſs mortified and auſtere, they were every day leſs ambitious of the ho⯑nours of martyrdom; and the ſoldiers of Chriſt, inſtead of diſtinguiſhing themſelves by voluntary deeds of heroiſm, frequently deſerted their poſt, and fled in confuſion before the enemy whom it was their duty to reſiſt. There were three methods, however, of eſcaping the flames of perſecution, which were not attended with an equal degree of guilt: the firſt indeed was ge⯑nerally allowed to be innocent; the ſecond was of a doubtful, or at leaſt of a venial, nature; but the third implied a direct and criminal apoſ⯑tacy from the Chriſtian faith.

I. A modern inquiſitor would hear with ſur⯑priſe, Three me⯑thods of eſcaping martyr⯑dom. that whenever an information was given to a Roman magiſtrate of any perſon within his juriſdiction who had embraced the ſect of the Chriſtians, the charge was communicated to the party accuſed, and that a convenient time was [441] allowed him to ſettle his domeſtic concerns, and to prepare an anſwer to the crime which was imputed to him ⁹⁹. If he entertained any doubt of his own conſtancy, ſuch a delay afforded him the opportunity of preſerving his life and honour by flight, of withdrawing himſelf into ſome ob⯑ſcure retirement or ſome diſtant province, and of patiently expecting the return of peace and ſecurity. A meaſure ſo conſonant to reaſon was ſoon authorized by the advice and example of the moſt holy prelates; and ſeems to have been cenſured by few, except by the Montaniſts, who deviated into hereſy by their ſtrict and obſtinate adherence to the rigour of ancient diſcipline ¹⁰⁰. II. The provincial governors, whoſe zeal was leſs prevalent than their avarice, had counte⯑nanced the practice of ſelling certificates (or libels as they were called), which atteſted, that the perſons therein mentioned had complied with the laws, and ſacrificed to the Roman deities. By producing theſe falſe declarations, the opu⯑lent and timid Chriſtians were enabled to ſilence the malice of an informer, and to reconcile in [442] ſome meaſure their ſafety with their religion. A ſlight penance atoned for this profane diſſi⯑mulation ¹⁰¹. III. In every perſecution there were great numbers of unworthy Chriſtians, who publicly diſowned or renounced the faith which they had profeſſed; and who confirmed the ſin⯑cerity of their abjuration, by the legal acts of burning incenſe or of offering ſacrifices. Some of theſe apoſtates had yielded on the firſt menace or exhortation of the magiſtrate; whilſt the patience of others had been ſubdued by the length and repetition of tortures. The affrighted countenances of ſome betrayed their inward re⯑morſe, while others advanced with confidence and alacrity to the altars of the gods ¹⁰². But the diſguiſe, which fear had impoſed, ſubſiſted no longer than the preſent danger. As ſoon as the ſeverity of the perſecution was abated, the doors of the churches were aſſailed by the re⯑turning multitude of penitents, who deteſted their idolatrous ſubmiſſion, and who ſolicited with equal ardour, but with various ſucceſs, their re-admiſſion into the ſociety of Chriſtians ¹⁰³.

[443] IV. Notwithſtanding the general rules, eſta⯑bliſhed for the conviction and puniſhment of the Chriſtians, the fate of thoſe ſectaries, in an ex⯑tenſive Alterna⯑tives of ſeverity and tolera⯑tion. and arbitrary government, muſt ſtill, in a great meaſure, have depended on their own behaviour, the circumſtances of the times, and the temper of their ſupreme as well as ſubordi⯑nate rulers. Zeal might ſometimes provoke, and prudence might ſometimes avert or aſſuage, the ſuperſtitious fury of the Pagans. A variety of motives might diſpoſe the provincial gover⯑nors either to enforce or to relax the execution of the laws; and of theſe motives, the moſt forcible was their regard not only for the public edicts, but for the ſecret intentions of the em⯑peror, a glance from whoſe eye was ſufficient to kindle or to extinguiſh the flames of perſecution. As often as any occaſional ſeverities were exer⯑ciſed in the different parts of the empire, the primitive Chriſtians lamented and perhaps mag⯑nified their own ſufferings; but the celebrated The ten perſecu⯑tions. number of ten perſecutions has been determined by the eccleſiaſtical writers of the fifth century, who poſſeſſed a more diſtinct view of the pro⯑ſperous or adverſe fortunes of the church, from the age of Nero to that of Diocletian. The in⯑genious parallels of the ten plagues of Egypt, and of the ten horns of the Apocalypſe, firſt [444] ſuggeſted this calculation to their minds; and in their application of the faith of prophecy to the truth of hiſtory, they were careful to ſelect thoſe reigns which were indeed the moſt hoſtile to the Chriſtian cauſe ¹⁰⁴. But theſe tranſient perſecutions ſerved only to revive the zeal, and to reſtore the diſcipline of the faithful: and the moments of extraordinary rigour were compen⯑ſated by much longer intervals of peace and ſecurity. The indifference of ſome princes, and the indulgence of others, permitted the Chriſt⯑ians to enjoy, though not perhaps a legal, yet an actual and public, toleration of their reli⯑gion.

The apology of Tertullian contains two very Suppoſed edicts of Tiberius and Mar⯑cus Anto⯑ninus. ancient, very ſingular, but at the ſame time very ſuſpicious inſtances of Imperial clemency; the edicts publiſhed by Tiberius, and by Marcus Antoninus, and deſigned not only to protect the innocence of the Chriſtians, but even to pro⯑claim thoſe ſtupendous miracles which had at⯑teſted the truth of their doctrine. The firſt of theſe examples is attended with ſome difficulties which might perplex a ſceptical mind ¹⁰⁵. We are required to believe, that Pontius Pilate in⯑formed [445] the emperor of the unjuſt ſentence of death which he had pronounced againſt an in⯑nocent, and, as it appeared, a divine, perſon; and that, without acquiring the merit, he ex⯑poſed himſelf to the danger, of martyrdom; that Tiberius, who avowed his contempt for all re⯑ligion, immediately conceived the deſign of placing the Jewiſh Meſſiah among the gods of Rome; that his ſervile ſenate ventured to diſobey the commands of their maſter; that Tiberius, inſtead of reſenting their refuſal, contented him⯑ſelf with protecting the Chriſtians from the ſe⯑verity of the laws, many years before ſuch laws were enacted, or before the church had aſſumed any diſtinct name or exiſtence; and laſtly, that the memory of this extraordinary tranſaction was preſerved in the moſt public and authentic re⯑cords, which eſcaped the knowledge of the hiſ⯑torians, of Greece and Rome, and were only viſible to the eyes of an African Chriſtian, who compoſed his apology one hundred and ſixty years after the death of Tiberius. The edict of Marcus Antoninus is ſuppoſed to have been the effect of his devotion and gratitude, for the mi⯑raculous deliverance which he had obtained in the Marcomannic war. The diſtreſs of the le⯑gions, the ſeaſonable tempeſt of rain and hail, of thunder and of lightning, and the diſmay and defeat of the barbarians, have been celebrated by the eloquence of ſeveral Pagan writers. If there were any Chriſtians in that army, it was natural that they ſhould aſcribe ſome merit to [446] the ſervent prayers, which, in the moment of danger, they had offered up for their own and the public ſafety. But we are ſtill aſſured by monuments of braſs and marble, by the Imperial medals, and by the Antonine column, that nei⯑ther the prince nor the people entertained any ſenſe of this ſignal obligation, ſince they una⯑nimouſly attribute their deliverance to the pro⯑vidence of Jupiter, and to the interpoſition of Mercury. During the whole courſe of his reign, Marcus deſpiſed the Chriſtians as a philoſopher, and puniſhed them as a ſovereign ¹⁰⁶.

By a ſingular fatality, the hardſhips which they had endured under the government of a State of the Chriſ⯑tians in the reigns of Commo⯑dus and Severus. A. D. 180. virtuous prince, immediately ceaſed on the ac⯑ceſſion of a tyrant, and as none except them⯑ſelves had experienced the injuſtice of Marcus, ſo they alone were protected by the lenity of Commodus. The celebrated Marcia, the moſt favoured of his concubines, and who at length contrived the murder of her Imperial lover, en⯑tertained a ſingular affection for the oppreſſed church; and though it was impoſſible that ſhe could reconcile the practice of vice with the precepts of the Goſpel, ſhe might hope to atone for the frailties of her ſex and profeſſion, by de⯑claring herſelf the patroneſs of the Chriſtians ¹⁰⁷. [447] Under the gracious protection of Marcia, they paſſed in ſafety the thirteen years of a cruel ty⯑ranny; and when the empire was eſtabliſhed in the houſe of Severus, they formed a domeſtic but more honourable connexion with the new court. The emperor was perſuaded, that, in a dangerous ſickneſs, he had derived ſome benefit, either ſpiritual or phyſical, from the holy oil, with which one of his ſlaves had anointed him. He always treated with peculiar diſtinction ſe⯑veral perſons of both ſexes who had embraced the new religion. The nurſe as well as the pre⯑ceptor of Caracalla were Chriſtians; and if that young prince ever betrayed a ſentiment of hu⯑manity, it was occaſioned by an incident, which, however trifling, bore ſome relation to the cauſe of Chriſtianity ¹⁰⁸. Under the reign of Severus, the fury of the populace was checked; the rigour of ancient laws was for ſome time ſuſpended; and the provincial governors were ſatisfied with receiving an annual preſent from the churches within their juriſdiction, as the price, or as the reward, of their moderation ¹⁰⁹. The contro⯑verſy concerning the preciſe time of the celebra⯑tion of Eaſter armed the biſhops of Aſia and [448] Italy againſt each other, and was conſidered as the moſt important buſineſs of this period of leiſure and tranquillity ¹¹⁰. Nor was the peace A. D. 198. of the church interrupted, till the increaſing numbers of proſelytes ſeem at length to have attracted the attention, and to have alienated the mind, of Severus. With the deſign of reſtrain⯑ing the progreſs of Chriſtianity, he publiſhed an edict, which, though it was deſigned to affect only the new converts, could not be carried into ſtrict execution, without expoſing to danger and puniſhment the moſt zealous of their teachers and miſſionaries. In this mitigated perſecution, we may ſtill diſcover the indulgent ſpirit of Rome and of Polytheiſm, which ſo readily admitted every excuſe in favour of thoſe who practiſed the religious ceremonies of their fathers ¹¹¹.

But the laws which Severus had enacted, ſoon Of the ſuc⯑ceſſors of Severus. expired with the authority of that emperor; and the Chriſtians, after this accidental tempeſt, en⯑joyed A. D. 211—249. a calm of thirty-eight years ¹¹². Till this period they had uſually held their aſſemblies in private houſes and ſequeſtered places. They were now permitted to erect and conſecrate con⯑venient edifices for the purpoſe of religious wor⯑ſhip ¹¹³; to purchaſe lands, even at Rome itſelf, [449] for the uſe of the community; and to conduct the elections of their eccleſiaſtical miniſters in ſo public, but at the ſame time in ſo exemplary a manner, as to deſerve the reſpectful attention of the Gentiles ¹¹⁴. This long repoſe of the church was accompanied with dignity. The reigns of thoſe princes who derived their extraction from the Aſiatic provinces, proved the moſt favourable to the Chriſtians; the eminent perſons of the ſect, inſtead of being reduced to implore the pro⯑tection of a ſlave or concubine, were admitted into the palace in the honourable characters of prieſts and philoſophers; and their myſterious doctrines, which were already diffuſed among the people, inſenſibly attracted the curioſity of their ſovereign. When the empreſs Mammaea paſſed through Antioch, ſhe expreſſed a deſire of con⯑verſing with the celebrated Origen, the fame of whoſe piety and learning was ſpread over the Eaſt. Origen obeyed ſo flattering an invitation, and though he could not expect to ſucceed in the converſion of an artful and ambitious woman, ſhe liſtened with pleaſure to his eloquent exhor⯑tations, and honourably diſmiſſed him to his [450] retirement in Paleſtine ¹¹⁵. The ſentiments of Mammaea were adopted by her ſon Alexander, and the philoſophic devotion of that emperor was marked by a ſingular but injudicious regard for the Chriſtian religion. In his domeſtic chapel he placed the ſtatues of Abraham, of Orpheus, of Apollonius, and of Chriſt, as an honour juſtly due to thoſe reſpectable ſages who had inſtructed mankind in the various modes of addreſſing their homage to the ſupreme and univerſal Deity ¹¹⁶. A purer faith, as well as worſhip, was openly profeſſed and practiſed among his houſehold. Biſhops, perhaps for the firſt time, were ſeen at court; and, after the death of Alexander, when the inhuman Maximin diſcharged his fury on the A. D. 235. favourites and ſervants of his unfortunate bene⯑factor, a great number of Chriſtians, of every rank, and of both ſexes, were involved in the promiſcuous maſſacre, which, on their account, has improperly received the name of Perſecu⯑tion ¹¹⁷.

[451] Notwithſtanding the cruel diſpoſition of Maxi⯑min, the effects of his reſentment againſt the Chriſtians were of a very local and temporary Of Maxi⯑min, Phi⯑lip, and Decius. nature, and the pious Origen, who had been proſcribed as a devoted victim, was ſtill reſerved to convey the truths of the Goſpel to the ear of monarchs ¹¹⁸. He addreſſed ſeveral edifying let⯑ters to the emperor Philip, to his wife, and to his A. D. 244. mother; and as ſoon as that prince, who was born in the neighbourhood of Paleſtine, had uſurped the Imperial ſceptre, the Chriſtians ac⯑quired a friend and a protector. The public and even partial favour of Philip towards the ſectaries of the new religion, and his conſtant reverence for the miniſters of the church, gave ſome colour to the ſuſpicion, which prevailed in his own times, that the emperor himſelf was be⯑come a convert to the faith ¹¹⁹; and afforded [452] ſome grounds for a fable which was afterwards invented, that he had been purified by confeſſion and pennance from the guilt contracted by the murder of his innocent predeceſſor ¹²⁰. The fall A. D. 249. of Philip introduced, with the change of maſters, a new ſyſtem of government, ſo oppreſſive to the Chriſtians, that their former condition, ever ſince the time of Domitian, was repreſented as a ſtate of perfect freedom and ſecurity, if compared with the rigorous treatment which they expe⯑rienced under the ſhort reign of Decius ¹²¹. The virtues of that prince will ſcarcely allow us to ſuſpect that he was actuated by a mean reſent⯑ment againſt the favourites of his predeceſſor, and it is more reaſonable to believe, that in the proſecution of his general deſign to reſtore the purity of Roman manners, he was deſirous of delivering the empire from what he condemned as a recent and criminal ſuperſtition. The biſhops of the moſt conſiderable cities were removed by exile or death: the vigilance of the magiſtrates prevented the clergy of Rome during ſixteen months from proceeding to a new election; and it was the opinion of the Chriſtians, that the [453] emperor would more patiently endure a compe⯑titor for the purple, than a biſhop in the capi⯑tal ¹²². Were it poſſible to ſuppoſe that the penetration of Decius had diſcovered pride under the diſguiſe of humility, or that he could foreſee the temporal dominion which might inſenſibly ariſe from the claims of ſpiritual authority, we might be leſs ſurpriſed, that he ſhould conſider the ſucceſſors of St. Peter as the moſt formidable rivals to thoſe of Auguſtus.

The adminiſtration of Valerian was diſtin⯑guiſhed Of Valeri⯑an, Galli⯑enus, and his ſucceſ⯑ſors. by a levity and inconſtancy, ill-ſuited to the gravity of the Roman Cenſor. In the firſt part of his reign, he ſurpaſſed in clemency thoſe A. D. 253—260. princes who had been ſuſpected of an attachment to the Chriſtian faith. In the laſt three years and a half, liſtening to the inſinuations of a miniſter addicted to the ſuperſtitions of Egypt, he adopted the maxims, and imitated the ſeverity, of his predeceſſor Decius ¹²³. The acceſſion of Gal⯑lienus, which increaſed the calamities of the empire, reſtored peace to the church; and the Chriſtians obtained the free exerciſe of their reli⯑gion, by an edict addreſſed to the biſhops, and conceived in ſuch terms as ſeemed to acknow⯑ledge [454] their office and public character ¹²⁴. The ancient laws, without being formally repealed, were ſuffered to ſink into oblivion; and (except⯑ing only ſome hoſtile intentions which are attri⯑buted to the emperor Aurelian ¹²⁵) the diſciples of Chriſt paſſed above forty years in a ſtate of proſperity, far more dangerous to their virtue than the ſevereſt trials of perſecution.

The ſtory of Paul of Samoſata, who filled the Paul of Samoſata, his man⯑ners. metropolitan ſee of Antioch, while the Eaſt was in the hands of Odenathus and Zenobia, may ſerve to illuſtrate the condition and character of A. D. 260. the times. The wealth of that prelate was a ſuf⯑ficient evidence of his guilt, ſince it was neither derived from the inheritance of his fathers, nor acquired by the arts of honeſt induſtry. But Paul conſidered the ſervice of the church as a very lucrative profeſſion ¹²⁶. His eccleſiaſtical juriſdiction was venal and rapacious; he extorted [455] frequent contributions from the moſt opulent of the faithful, and converted to his own uſe a con⯑ſiderable part of the public revenue. By his pride and luxury, the Chriſtian religion was ren⯑dered odious in the eyes of the Gentiles. His council chamber and his throne, the ſplendour with which he appeared in public, the ſuppliant crowd who ſolicited his attention, the multitude of letters and petitions to which he dictated his anſwers, and the perpetual hurry of buſineſs in which he was involved, were circumſtances much better ſuited to the ſtate of a civil magiſtrate ¹²⁷, than to the humility of a primitive biſhop. When he harangued his people from the pulpit, Paul affected the figurative ſtyle and the theatrical geſtures of an Aſiatic ſophiſt, while the cathedral reſounded with the loudeſt and moſt extravagant acclamations in the praiſe of his divine eloquence. Againſt thoſe who reſiſted his power, or refuſed to flatter his vanity, the prelate of Antioch was arrogant, rigid, and inexorable; but he relaxed the diſcipline, and laviſhed the treaſures, of the church on his dependent clergy, who were per⯑mitted to imitate their maſter in the gratification of every ſenſual appetite. For Paul indulged himſelf very freely in the pleaſures of the table, and he had received into the epiſcopal palace two [456] young and beautiful women, as the conſtant companions of his leiſure moments ¹²⁸.

Notwithſtanding theſe ſcandalous vices, if Paul He is de⯑graded from the ſee of An⯑tioch. of Samoſata had preſerved the purity of the orthodox faith, his reign over the capital of Syria would have ended only with his life; and A. D. 270. had a ſeaſonable perſecution intervened, an effort of courage might perhaps have placed him in the rank of ſaints and martyrs. Some nice and ſubtle errors, which he imprudently adopted and obſtinately maintained, concerning the doctrine of the Trinity, excited the zeal and indignation of the eaſtern churches ¹²⁹. From Egypt to the Euxine ſea, the biſhops were in arms and in motion. Several councils were held, confuta⯑tions were publiſhed, excommunications were pronounced, ambiguous explanations were by turns accepted and refuſed, treaties were con⯑cluded and violated, and at length Paul of Samoſata was degraded from his epiſcopal cha⯑racter, by the ſentence of ſeventy or eighty biſhops, who aſſembled for that purpoſe at An⯑tioch, and who, without conſulting the rights of the clergy or people, appointed a ſucceſſor by their own authority. The manifeſt irregularity of this proceeding increaſed the numbers of the diſcontented faction; and as Paul, who was no [457] ſtranger to the arts of courts, had inſinuated him⯑ſelf into the favour of Zenobia, he maintained above four years the poſſeſſion of the epiſcopal houſe and office. The victory of Aurelian chang⯑ed the face of the Eaſt, and the two contending parties, who applied to each other the epithets of ſchiſm and hereſy, were either commanded or permitted to plead their cauſe before the tribunal of the conqueror. This public and very ſingular trial affords a convincing proof, that the exiſt⯑ence, the property, the privileges, and the inter⯑nal policy, of the Chriſtians were acknowledged, if not by the laws, at leaſt by the magiſtrates of the empire. As a Pagan and as a ſoldier, it could ſcarcely by expected that Aurelian ſhould enter into the diſcuſſion, whether the ſentiments of Paul or thoſe of his adverſaries were moſt agreeable to the true ſtandard of the orthodox faith. His determination, however, was founded on the general principles of equity and reaſon. The ſen⯑tence is executed by Aure⯑lian. He conſidered the biſhops of Italy as the moſt impartial and reſpectable judges among the Chriſ⯑tians, and as ſoon as he was informed, that they A. D. 274. had unanimouſly approved the ſentence of the council, he acquieſced in their opinion, and im⯑mediately gave orders that Paul ſhould be com⯑pelled to relinquiſh the temporal poſſeſſions belonging to an office, of which, in the judgment of his brethren, he had been regularly deprived. But while we applaud the juſtice, we ſhould not overlook the policy, of Aurelian; who was deſir⯑ous of reſtoring and cementing the dependence [458] of the provinces on the capital, by every means which could bind the intereſt or prejudices of any part of his ſubjects ¹³⁰.

Amidſt the frequent revolutions of the empire, Peace and proſperity of the church under Dio⯑cletian. the Chriſtians ſtill flouriſhed in peace and proſ⯑perity; and notwithſtanding a celebrated aera of martyrs has been deduced from the acceſſion of Diocletian ¹³¹, the new ſyſtem of policy, intro⯑duced A. D. 284—303. and maintained by the wiſdom of that prince, continued, during more than eighteen years, to breathe the mildeſt and moſt liberal ſpirit of religious toleration. The mind of Dio⯑cletian himſelf was leſs adapted indeed to ſpe⯑culative inquiries, than to the active labours of war and government. His prudence rendered him averſe to any great innovation, and though his temper was not very ſuſceptible of zeal or enthuſiaſm, he always maintained an habitual regard for the ancient deities of the empire. But the leiſure of the two empreſſes, of his wife Priſca, and of Valeria his daughter, permitted them to liſten with more attention and reſpect to the truths of Chriſtianity, which in every age has acknowledged its important obligations to female devotion ¹³². The principal eunuchs, [459] Lucian ¹³³ and Dorotheus, Gorgonius and An⯑drew, who attended the perſon, poſſeſſed the favour, and governed the houſehold, of Diocle⯑tian, protected by their powerful influence the faith which they had embraced. Their example was imitated by many of the moſt conſiderable officers of the palace, who, in their reſpective ſtations, had the care of the Imperial ornaments, of the robes, of the furniture, of the jewels, and even of the private treaſury; and, though it might ſometimes be incumbent on them to accompany the emperor when he ſacrificed in the temple ¹³⁴, they enjoyed, with their wives, their children, and their ſlaves, the free exerciſe of the Chriſtian religion. Diocletian and his colleagues frequently conferred the moſt important offices on thoſe perſons, who avowed their abhorrence for the worſhip of the gods, but who had diſ⯑played abilities proper for the ſervice of the ſtate. The biſhops held an honourable rank in their reſpective provinces, and were treated with diſ⯑tinction and reſpect, not only by the people, but by the magiſtrates themſelves. Almoſt in every city, the ancient churches were found inſufficient to contain the increaſing multitude of proſelytes; and in their place more ſtately and capacious edifices were erected for the public worſhip of the faithful. The corruption of manners and [460] principles, ſo forcibly lamented by Euſebius ¹³⁵, may be conſidered, not only as a conſequence, but as a proof, of the liberty, which the Chriſtians enjoyed and abuſed under the reign of Diocletian. Proſperity had relaxed the nerves of diſcipline. Fraud, envy, and malice, prevailed in every congregation. The preſ⯑byters aſpired to the epiſcopal office, which every day became an object more worthy of their ambition. The biſhops, who contended with each other for eccleſiaſtical pre-eminence, appeared by their conduct to claim a ſecular and tyrannical power in the church; and the lively faith which ſtill diſtinguiſhed the Chriſtians from the Gentiles, was ſhewn much leſs in their lives, than in their controverſial writings.

Notwithſtanding this ſeeming ſecurity, an at⯑tentive Progreſs of zeal and ſuperſtiti⯑on among the Pa⯑gans. obſerver might diſcern ſome ſymptoms that threatened the church with a more violent perſecution than any which ſhe had yet endured. The zeal and rapid progreſs of the Chriſtians awakened the Polytheiſts from their ſupine indif⯑ference in the cauſe of thoſe deities, whom cuſtom and education had taught them to revere. The mutual provocations of a religious war, which had already continued above two hundred years, exaſperated the animoſity of the contending par⯑ties. The Pagans were incenſed at the raſhneſs of a recent and obſcure ſect, which preſumed to [461] accuſe their countrymen of error, and to devote their anceſtors to eternal miſery. The habits of juſtifying the popular mythology againſt the in⯑vectives of an implacable enemy, produced in their minds ſome ſentiments of faith and reve⯑rence for a ſyſtem which they had been accuſ⯑tomed to conſider with the moſt careleſs levity. The ſupernatural powers aſſumed by the church inſpired at the ſame time terror and emulation. The followers of the eſtabliſhed religion in⯑trenched themſelves behind a ſimilar fortification of prodigies; invented new modes of ſacrifice, of expiation, and of initiation ¹³⁶; attempted to revive the credit of their expiring oracles ¹³⁷; and liſtened with eager credulity to every impoſtor, who flattered their prejudices by a tale of won⯑ders ¹³⁸. Both parties ſeemed to acknowledge the truth of thoſe miracles which were claimed by their adverſaries; and while they were con⯑tented [462] with aſcribing them to the arts of magic, and to the power of daemons, they mutually concurred in reſtoring and eſtabliſhing the reign of ſuperſtition ¹³⁹. Philoſophy, her moſt dan⯑gerous enemy, was now converted into her moſt uſeful ally. The groves of the academy, the gardens of Epicurus, and even the portico of the Stoics, were almoſt deſerted, as ſo many diffe⯑rent ſchools of ſcepticiſm or impiety ¹⁴⁰: and many among the Romans were deſirous that the writings of Cicero ſhould be condemned and ſuppreſſed by the authority of the ſenate ¹⁴¹. The prevailing ſect of the new Platonicians judged it prudent to connect themſelves with the prieſts, whom perhaps they deſpiſed, againſt the Chriſtians, whom they had reaſon to fear. Theſe faſhionable philoſophers proſecuted the deſign of extracting allegorical wiſdom from the fictions of the Greek poets; inſtituted myſterious rites of [463] devotion for the uſe of their choſen diſciples; recommended the worſhip of the ancient gods as the emblems or miniſters of the Supreme Deity, and compoſed againſt the faith of the goſpel many elaborate treatiſes ¹⁴², which have ſince been com⯑mitted to the flames by the prudence of orthodox emperors ¹⁴³.

Although the policy of Diocletian and the Maximian and Gale⯑rius puniſh a few Chriſtian ſoldiers. humanity of Conſtantius inclined them to preſerve inviolate the maxims of toleration, it was ſoon diſcovered that their two aſſociates, Maximian and Galerius, entertained the moſt implacable averſion for the name and religion of the Chriſ⯑tians. The minds of thoſe princes had never been enlightened by ſcience; education had never ſoftened their temper. They owed their greatneſs to their ſwords, and in their moſt ele⯑vated fortune they ſtill retained their ſuperſtitious prejudices of ſoldiers and peaſants. In the gene⯑ral adminiſtration of the provinces they obeyed the laws which their benefactor had eſtabliſhed; but they frequently found occaſions of exerciſing within their camp and palaces a ſecret perſecu⯑tion ¹⁴⁴, for which the imprudent zeal of the [464] Chriſtians ſometimes offered the moſt ſpecious pretences. A ſentence of death was executed upon Maximilianus, an African youth, who had been produced by his own father before the ma⯑giſtrate as a ſufficient and legal recruit, but who obſtinately perſiſted in declaring, that his conſci⯑ence would not permit him to embrace the pro⯑feſſion of a ſoldier ¹⁴⁵. It could ſcarcely be expected that any government ſhould ſuffer the action of Marcellus the Centurion to paſs with impunity. On the day of a public feſtival, that officer threw away his belt, his arms, and the enſigns of his office, and exclaimed with a loud voice, that he would obey none but Jeſus Chriſt the eternal King, and that he renounced for ever the uſe of carnal weapons, and the ſervice of an idolatrous maſter. The ſoldiers, as ſoon as they recovered from their aſtoniſhment, ſecured the perſon of Marcellus. He was examined in the city of Tingi by the preſident of that part of Mauritania; and as he was convicted by his own confeſſion, he was condemned and beheaded for [465] the crime of deſertion ¹⁴⁶. Examples of ſuch a nature ſavour much leſs of religious perſecution than of martial or even civil law: but they ſerved to alienate the mind of the emperors, to juſtify the ſeverity of Galerius, who diſmiſſed a great number of Chriſtian officers from their employ⯑ments; and to authorize the opinion, that a ſect of enthuſiaſts, which avowed principles ſo repug⯑nant to the public ſafety, muſt either remain uſeleſs, or would ſoon become dangerous, ſub⯑jects of the empire.

After the ſucceſs of the Perſian war had raiſed Galerius prevails on Diocletian to begin a general perſecuti⯑on. the hopes and the reputation of Galerius, he paſſed a winter with Diocletian in the place of Nicomedia; and the fate of Chriſtianity became the object of their ſecret conſultations ¹⁴⁷. The experienced emperor was ſtill inclined to purſue meaſures of lenity; and though he readily con⯑ſented to exclude the Chriſtians from holding any employments in the houſehold or the army, he urged in the ſtrongeſt terms the danger as well as cruelty of ſhedding the blood of thoſe deluded fanatics. Galerius at length extorted from him the permiſſion of ſummoning a council, com⯑poſed of a few perſons the moſt diſtinguiſhed in the civil and military departments of the ſtate. The important queſtion was agitated in their preſence, and thoſe ambitious courtiers eaſily [466] diſcerned, that it was incumbent on them to ſecond, by their eloquence, the importunate vio⯑lence of the Caeſar. It may be preſumed, that they inſiſted on every topic which might intereſt the pride, the piety, or the fears, of their ſove⯑reign in the deſtruction of Chriſtianity. Perhaps they repreſented, that the glorious work of the deliverance of the empire was left imperfect, as long as an independent people was permitted to ſubſiſt and multiply in the heart of the provinces. The Chriſtians (it might ſpeciouſly be alleged), renouncing the gods and the inſtitutions of Rome, had conſtituted a diſtinct republic, which might yet be ſuppreſſed before it had acquired any military force: but which was already governed by its own laws and magiſtrates, was poſſeſſed of a public treaſure, and was intimately connected in all its parts, by the frequent aſſemblies of the biſhops, to whoſe decrees their numerous and opulent congregations yielded an implicit obe⯑dience. Arguments like theſe, may ſeem to have determined the reluctant mind of Diocletian to embrace a new ſyſtem of perſecution: but though we may ſuſpect, it is not in our power to relate, the ſecret intrigues of the palace, the pri⯑vate views and reſentments, the jealouſy of women or eunuchs, and all thoſe trifling but deciſive cauſes which ſo often influence the fate of empires, and the counſels of the wiſeſt monarchs ¹⁴⁸.

[467] The pleaſure of the emperors was at length ſignified to the Chriſtians, who, during the courſe of this melancholy winter, had expected, with Demolition of the church of Nicome⯑dia. A. D. 303. 23d Feb. anxiety, the reſult of ſo many ſecret conſulta⯑tions. The twenty-third of February, which coincided with the Roman feſtival of the Ter⯑minalia ¹⁴⁹, was appointed (whether from acci⯑dent or deſign) to ſet bounds to the progreſs of Chriſtianity. At the earlieſt dawn of day, the Praetorian praefect ¹⁵⁰, accompanied by ſeveral generals, tribunes, and officers of the revenue, repaired to the principal church of Nicomedia, which was ſituated on an eminence in the moſt populous and beautiful part of the city. The doors were inſtantly broke open; they ruſhed into the ſanctuary; and as they ſearched in vain for ſome viſible object of worſhip, they were obliged to content themſelves with committing to the flames the volumes of holy ſcripture. The miniſters of Diocletian were followed by a nume⯑rous body of guards and pioneers, who marched in order of battle, and were provided with all the inſtruments uſed in the deſtruction of forti⯑fied cities. By their inceſſant labour, a ſacred edifice, which towered above the Imperial palace, and had long excited the indignation and envy [468] of the Gentiles, was in a few hours levelled with the ground ¹⁵¹.

The next day the general edict of perſecution was publiſhed ¹⁵²; and though Diocletian, ſtill The firſt edict a⯑gainſt the Chriſtians. 24th of February. averſe to the effuſion of blood, had moderated the fury of Galerius, who propoſed, that every one refuſing to offer ſacrifice, ſhould immediately be burnt alive, the penalties inflicted on the obſtinacy of the Chriſtians might be deemed ſufficiently rigorous and effectual. It was enacted, that their churches, in all the provinces of the empire, ſhould be demoliſhed to their founda⯑tions; and the puniſhment of death was denounced againſt all who ſhould preſume to hold any ſecret aſſemblies for the purpoſe of religious worſhip. The philoſophers, who now aſſumed the unwor⯑thy office of directing the blind zeal of perſecu⯑tion, had diligently ſtudied the nature and genius of the Chriſtian religion; and as they were not ignorant that the ſpeculative doctrines of the faith were ſuppoſed to be contained in the writ⯑ings of the prophets, of the evangeliſts, and of the apoſtles, they moſt probably ſuggeſted the order, that the biſhops and preſbyters ſhould deliver all their ſacred books into the hands of the magiſtrates; who were commanded, under the ſevereſt penalties, to burn them in a public [469] and ſolemn manner. By the ſame edict, the property of the church was at once confiſcated; and the ſeveral parts of which it might conſiſt, were either ſold to the higheſt bidder, united to the Imperial domain, beſtowed on the cities and corporations, or granted to the ſolicitations of rapacious courtiers. After taking ſuch effectual meaſures to aboliſh the worſhip, and to diſſolve the government, of the Chriſtians, it was thought neceſſary to ſubject to the moſt intolerable hard⯑ſhips the condition of thoſe perverſe individuals who ſhould ſtill reject the religion of Nature, of Rome, and of their anceſtors. Perſons of a liberal birth were declared incapable of holding any honours or employments; ſlaves were for ever deprived of the hopes of freedom, and the whole body of the people were put out of the protec⯑tion of the law. The judges were authorized to hear and to determine every action that was brought againſt a Chriſtian. But the Chriſtians were not permitted to complain of any injury which they themſelves had ſuffered; and thus thoſe unfortunate ſectaries were expoſed to the ſeverity, while they were excluded from the benefits, of public juſtice. This new ſpecies of martyrdom, ſo painful and lingering, ſo obſcure and ignominious, was, perhaps, the moſt proper to weary the conſtancy of the faithful: nor can it be doubted that the paſſions and intereſt of mankind were diſpoſed on this occaſion to ſecond the deſigns of the emperors. But the policy of a well-ordered government muſt ſometimes have [470] interpoſed in behalf of the oppreſſed Chriſtians; nor was it poſſible for the Roman princes entirely to remove the apprehenſion of puniſhment, or to connive at every act of fraud and violence, with⯑out expoſing their own authority and the reſt of their ſubjects to the moſt alarming dangers ¹⁵³.

This edict was ſcarcely exhibited to the public Zeal and [...] a Chriſtian. view, in the moſt conſpicuous place of Nico⯑media, before it was torn down by the hands of a Chriſtian, who expreſſed, at the ſame time, by the bittereſt invectives, his contempt as well as abhorrence for ſuch impious and tyrannical go⯑vernors. His offence, according to the mildeſt laws, amounted to treaſon, and deſerved death. And if it be true that he was a perſon of rank and education, thoſe circumſtances could ſerve only to aggravate his guilt. He was burnt, or rather roaſted, by a ſlow fire; and his execu⯑tioners, zealous to revenge the perſonal inſult which had been offered to the emperors, exhauſted every refinement of cruelty, without being able to ſubdue his patience, or to alter the ſteady and inſulting ſmile which in his dying agonies he ſtill preſerved in his countenance. The Chriſtians, though they confeſſed that his conduct had not been ſtrictly conformable to the laws of prudence, admired the divine fervour of his zeal; and the exceſſive commendations which they laviſhed on the memory of their hero and martyr, con⯑tributed [471] to fix a deep impreſſion of terror and hatred in the mind of Diocletian ¹⁵⁴.

His fears were ſoon alarmed by the view of a Fire of the palace of Nicomedia imputed to the Chriſ⯑tians. danger from which he very narrowly eſcaped. Within fifteen days the palace of Nicomedia, and even the bedchamber of Diocletian, were twice in flames; and though both times they were extinguiſhed without any material damage, the ſingular repetition of the fire was juſtly con⯑ſidered as an evident proof that it had not been the effect of chance or negligence. The ſuſ⯑picion naturally fell on the Chriſtians; and it was ſuggeſted, with ſome degree of probability, that thoſe deſperate fanatics, provoked by their preſent ſufferings, and apprehenſive of impending calamities, had entered into a conſpiracy with their faithful brethren, the eunuchs of the palace, againſt the lives of two emperors, whom they deteſted as the irreconcileable enemies of the church of God. Jealouſy and reſentment pre⯑vailed in every breaſt, but eſpecially in that of Diocletian. A great number of perſons, diſtin⯑guiſhed either by the offices which they had filled, or by the favour which they had enjoyed, were thrown into priſon. Every mode of torture was put in practice, and the court, as well as city, was polluted with many bloody executions ¹⁵⁵. [472] But as it was found impoſſible to extort any diſcovery of this myſterious tranſaction, it ſeems incumbent on us either to preſume the innocence, or to admire the reſolution, of the ſufferers. A few days afterwards Galerius haſtily withdrew himſelf from Nicomedia, declaring, that if he delayed his departure from that devoted palace, he ſhould fall a ſacrifice to the rage of the Chriſ⯑tians. The eccleſiaſtical hiſtorians, from whom alone we derive a partial and imperfect know⯑ledge of this perſecution, are at a loſs how to account for the fears and dangers of the empe⯑rors. Two of theſe writers, a Prince and a Rhe⯑torician, were eye-witneſſes of the fire of Nico⯑media. The one aſcribes it to lightning, and the divine wrath; the other affirms, that it was kin⯑dled by the malice of Galerius himſelf ¹⁵⁶.

As the edict againſt the Chriſtians was deſigned Execution of the firſt edict. for a general law of the whole empire, and as Diocletian and Galerius, though they might not wait for the conſent, were aſſured of the concur⯑rence, of the weſtern princes, it would appear more conſonant to our ideas of policy, that the governors of all the provinces ſhould have received ſecret inſtructions to publiſh, on one and the ſame day, this declaration of war within their reſpective departments. It was at leaſt to be [473] expected, that the convenience of the public highways and eſtabliſhed poſts would have enabled the emperors to tranſmit their orders with the utmoſt diſpatch from the palace of Nicomedia to the extremities of the Roman world; and that they would not have ſuffered fifty days to elapſe, before the edict was publiſhed in Syria, and near four months before it was ſignified to the cities of Africa ¹⁵⁷. This delay may perhaps be im⯑puted to the cautious temper of Diocletian, who had yielded a reluctant conſent to the meaſures of perſecution, and who was deſirous of trying the experiment under his more immediate eye, before he gave way to the diſorders and diſcon⯑tent which it muſt inevitably occaſion in the diſtant provinces. At firſt, indeed, the magiſ⯑trates were reſtrained from the effuſion of blood; but the uſe of every other ſeverity was permitted and even recommended to their zeal; nor could the Chriſtians, though they cheerfully reſigned the ornaments of their churches, reſolve to inter⯑rupt their religious aſſemblies, or to deliver their ſacred books to the flames. The pious obſtinacy of Felix, an African biſhop, appears to have embarraſſed the ſubordinate miniſters of the go⯑vernment. The curator of his city ſent him in chains to the proconſul. The proconſul tranſ⯑mitted him to the Praetorian praefect of Italy; and Felix, who diſdained even to give an evaſive anſwer, was at length beheaded at Venuſia, in Lucania, a place on which the birth of Horace [474] has conferred fame ¹⁵⁸. This precedent, and perhaps ſome Imperial reſcript, which was iſſued in conſequence of it, appeared to authorize the governors of provinces, in puniſhing with death the refuſal of the Chriſtians to deliver up their ſacred books. There were undoubtedly many perſons who embraced this opportunity of ob⯑taining the crown of martyrdom; but there were likewiſe too many who purchaſed an igno⯑minious life, by diſcovering and betraying the holy ſcripture into the hands of infidels. A great number even of biſhops and preſbyters acquired, by this criminal compliance, the opprobrious epithet of Traditors; and their offence was pro⯑ductive of much preſent ſcandal, and of much future diſcord, in the African Church ¹⁵⁹.

The copies, as well as the verſions of ſcrip⯑ture, Demoliti⯑on of the churches. were already ſo multiplied in the empire, that the moſt ſevere inquiſition could no longer be attended with any fatal conſequences; and even the ſacrifice of thoſe volumes, which, in every congregation, were preſerved for public uſe, required the conſent of ſome treacherous and unworthy Chriſtians. But the ruin of the churches was eaſily effected by the authority of the govern⯑ment, and by the labour of the Pagans. In ſome provinces, however, the magiſtrates con⯑tented themſelves with ſhutting up the places of [475] religious worſhip. In others, they more literally complied with the terms of the edict; and after taking away the doors, the benches, and the pulpit, which they burnt, as it were in a funeral pile, they completely demoliſhed the remainder of the edifice ¹⁶⁰. It is perhaps to this melan⯑choly occaſion, that we ſhould apply a very remarkable ſtory, which is related with ſo many circumſtances of variety and improbability, that it ſerves rather to excite than to ſatisfy our curi⯑oſity. In a ſmall town in Phrygia, of whoſe name as well as ſituation we are left ignorant, it ſhould ſeem, that the magiſtrates and the body of the people had embraced the Chriſtian ſaith; and as ſome reſiſtance might be apprehended to the execution of the edict, the governor of the province was ſupported by a numerous detach⯑ment of legionaries. On their approach the citizens threw themſelves into the church, with the reſolution either of defending by arms that ſacred edifice, or of periſhing in its ruins. They indignantly rejected the notice and permiſſion which was given them, to retire, till the ſoldiers, provoked by their obſtinate refuſal, ſet fire to the building on all ſides, and conſumed, by this ex⯑traordinary [476] kind of martyrdom, a great number of Phrygians, with their wives and children ¹⁶¹.

Some ſlight diſturbances, though they were ſuppreſſed almoſt as ſoon as excited, in Syria Subſe⯑quent e⯑dicts. and the frontiers of Armenia, afforded the ene⯑mies of the church a very plauſible occaſion to inſinuate, that thoſe troubles had been ſecretly fomented by the intrigues of the biſhops, who had already forgotten their oſtentatious profeſ⯑ſions of paſſive and unlimited obedience ¹⁶². The reſentment, or the fears, of Diocletian, at length tranſported him beyond the bounds of moderation, which he had hitherto preſerved, and he declared, in a ſeries of cruel edicts, his intention of aboliſhing the Chriſtian name. By the firſt of theſe edicts, the governors of the provinces were directed to apprehend all perſons of the eccleſiaſtical order; and the priſons, deſ⯑tined for the vileſt criminals, were ſoon filled with a multitude of biſhops, preſbyters, deacons, [477] readers, and exorciſts. By a ſecond edict, the magiſtrates were commanded to employ every method of ſeverity, which might reclaim them from their odious ſuperſtition, and oblige them to return to the eſtabliſhed worſhip of the gods. This rigorous order was extended, by a ſubſe⯑quent edict, to the whole body of Chriſtians, who were expoſed to a violent and general perſecu⯑tion ¹⁶³. Inſtead of thoſe ſalutary reſtraints, which had required the direct and ſolemn teſti⯑mony of an accuſer, it became the duty as well as the intereſt of the Imperial officers, to diſcover, to purſue, and to torment, the moſt obnoxious among the faithful. Heavy penalties were de⯑nounced againſt all who ſhould preſume to ſave a proſcribed ſectary from the juſt indignation of the gods, and of the emperors. Yet, notwithſtand⯑ing the ſeverity of this law, the virtuous courage of many of the Pagans, in concealing their friends or relations, affords an honourable proof, that the rage of ſuperſtition had not extinguiſhed in their minds the ſentiments of nature and huma⯑nity ¹⁶⁴.

Diocletian had no ſooner publiſhed his edicts General idea of the perſecu⯑tion, againſt the Chriſtians, than, as if he had been deſirous of committing to other hands the work of perſecution, he diveſted himſelf of the Impe⯑rial [478] purple. The character and ſituation of his colleagues and ſucceſſors ſometimes urged them to enforce, and ſometimes inclined them to ſuſ⯑pend, the execution of theſe rigorous laws; nor can we acquire a juſt and diſtinct idea of this important period of eccleſiaſtical hiſtory, unleſs we ſeparately conſider the ſtate of Chriſtianity, in the different parts of the empire, during the ſpace of ten years, which elapſed between the firſt edicts of Diocletian, and the final peace of the church.

The mild and humane temper of Conſtantius In the weſ⯑tern pro⯑vinces un⯑der Con⯑ſtantius and Con⯑ſtantine; was averſe to the oppreſſion of any part of his ſubjects. The principal offices of his palace were exerciſed by Chriſtians. He loved their perſons, eſteemed their fidelity, and entertained not any diſlike to their religious principles. But as long as Conſtantius remained in the ſubordi⯑nate ſtation of Caeſar, it was not in his power openly to reject the edicts of Diocletian, or to diſobey the commands of Maximian. His au⯑thority contributed, however, to alleviate the ſufferings which he pitied and abhorred. He conſented, with reluctance, to the ruin of the churches; but he ventured to protect the Chriſ⯑tians themſelves from the fury of the populace, and from the rigour of the laws. The provinces of Gaul (under which we may probably include thoſe of Britain) were indebted for the ſingular tranquillity which they enjoyed, to the gentle interpoſition of their ſovereign ¹⁶⁵. But Datianus, [479] the preſident or governor of Spain, actuated either by zeal or policy, choſe rather to execute the public edicts of the emperors, than to underſtand the ſecret intentions of Conſtantius; and it can ſcarcely be doubted, that his provincial admini⯑ſtration was ſtained with the blood of a few martyrs ¹⁶⁶. The elevation of Conſtantius to the ſupreme and independent dignity of Auguſtus, gave a free ſcope to the exerciſe of his virtues, and the ſhortneſs of his reign did not prevent him from eſtabliſhing a ſyſtem of toleration, of which he left the precept and the example to his ſon Conſtantine. His fortunate ſon, from the firſt moment of his acceſſion, declaring himſelf the protector of the church, at length deſerved the appellation of the firſt emperor, who publicly profeſſed and eſtabliſhed the Chriſtian religion. The motives of his converſion, as they may variouſly be deduced from benevolence, from policy, from conviction, or from remorſe; and the progreſs of the revolution, which, under his powerful influence, and that of his ſons, rendered [480] Chriſtianity the reigning religion of the Roman empire, will form a very intereſting and impor⯑tant chapter in the third volume of this hiſtory. At preſent it may be ſufficient to obſerve, that every victory of Conſtantine was productive of ſome relief or benefit to the church.

The provinces of Italy and Africa experienced in Italy and Africa, under Maximian and Seve⯑rus; a ſhort but violent perſecution. The rigorous edicts of Diocletian were ſtrictly and cheerfully executed by his aſſociate Maximian, who had long hated the Chriſtians, and who delighted in acts of blood and violence. In the autumn of the firſt year of the perſecution, the two empe⯑rors met at Rome to celebrate their triumph; ſeveral oppreſſive laws appear to have iſſued from their ſecret conſultations, and the diligence of the magiſtrates was animated by the preſence of their ſovereigns. After Diocletian had diveſted himſelf of the purple, Italy and Africa were adminiſtered under the name of Severus, and were expoſed, without defence, to the implacable reſentment of his maſter Galerius. Among the martyrs of Rome, Adauctus deſerves the notice of poſterity. He was of a noble family in Italy, and had raiſed himſelf, through the ſucceſſive honours of the palace, to the important office of treaſurer of the private demeſnes. Adauctus is the more remarkable for being the only perſon of rank and diſtinction who appears to have ſuf⯑fered death, during the whole courſe of this general perſecution ¹⁶⁷.

[481] The revolt of Maxentius immediately reſtored peace to the churches of Italy and Africa; and the ſame tyrant who oppreſſed every other claſs under Maxenti⯑us; of his ſubjects, ſhewed himſelf juſt, humane, and even partial, towards the afflicted Chriſtians. He depended on their gratitude and affection, and very naturally preſumed, that the injuries which they had ſuffered, and the dangers which they ſtill apprehended from his moſt inveterate enemy, would ſecure the fidelity of a party al⯑ready conſiderable by their numbers and opu⯑lence ¹⁶⁸. Even the conduct of Maxentius towards the biſhops of Rome and Carthage, may be conſidered as the proof of his toleration, ſince it is probable that the moſt orthodox princes would adopt the ſame meaſures with regard to their eſtabliſhed clergy. Marcellus, the former of thoſe prelates, had thrown the capital into confuſion, by the ſevere penance which he im⯑poſed on a great number of Chriſtians, who, during the late perſecution, had renounced or diſſembled their religion. The rage of faction broke out in frequent and violent ſeditions; the blood of the faithful was ſhed by each other's hands, and the exile of Marcellus, whoſe pru⯑dence ſeems to have been leſs eminent than his zeal, was found to be the only meaſure capable of reſtoring peace to the diſtracted church of [482] Rome ¹⁶⁹. The behaviour of Menſurius, biſhop of Carthage, appears to have been ſtill more reprehenſible. A deacon of that city had pub⯑liſhed a libel againſt the emperor. The offender took refuge in the epiſcopal palace; and though it was ſomewhat early to advance any claims of eccleſiaſtical immunities, the biſhop refuſed to deliver him up to the officers of juſtice. For this treaſonable reſiſtance, Menſurius was ſum⯑moned to court, and inſtead of receiving a legal ſentence of death or baniſhment, he was permit⯑ted, after a ſhort examination, to return to his dioceſe ¹⁷⁰. Such was the happy condition of the Chriſtian ſubjects of Maxentius, that whenever they were deſirous of procuring for their own uſe any bodies of martyrs, they were obliged to purchaſe them from the moſt diſtant provinces of the Eaſt. A ſtory is related of Aglae, a Ro⯑man lady, deſcended from a conſular family, and poſſeſſed of ſo ample an eſtate, that it required [483] the management of ſeventy-three ſtewards. Among theſe, Boniface was the favourite of his miſtreſs; and as Aglae mixed love with devo⯑tion, it is reported that he was admitted to ſhare her bed. Her fortune enabled her to gratify the pious deſire of obtaining ſome ſacred relics from the Eaſt. She intruſted Boniface with a con⯑ſiderable ſum of gold, and a large quantity of aromatics; and her lover, attended by twelve horſemen and three covered chariots, undertook a remote pilgrimage, as far as Tarſus in Cilicia ¹⁷¹.

The ſanguinary temper of Galerius, the firſt in Illyri⯑cum and the Eaſt, under Ga⯑lerius and Maximi⯑an. and principal author of the perſecution, was formidable to thoſe Chriſtians, whom their miſ⯑fortunes had placed within the limits of his do⯑minions; and it may fairly be preſumed, that many perſons of a middle rank, who were not confined by the chains either of wealth or of poverty, very frequently deſerted their native country, and ſought a refuge in the milder cli⯑mate of the Weſt. As long as he commanded only the armies and provinces of Illyricum, he could with difficulty either find or make a con⯑ſiderable number of martyrs, in a warlike coun⯑try, which had entertained the miſſionaries of the goſpel with more coldneſs and reluctance than any other part of the empire ¹⁷². But when Ga⯑lerius [484] had obtained the ſupreme power and the government of the Eaſt, he indulged in their fulleſt extent his zeal and cruelty, not only in the provinces of Thrace, and Aſia, which ac⯑knowledged his immediate juriſdiction; but in thoſe of Syria, Paleſtine, and Egypt, where Maximin gratified his own inclination, by yield⯑ing a rigorous obedience to the ſtern commands of his benefactor ¹⁷³. The frequent diſappoint⯑ments of his ambitious views, the experience of ſix years of perſecution, and the ſalutary reflec⯑tions which a lingering and painful diſtemper ſuggeſted to the mind of Galerius, at length convinced him that the moſt violent efforts of deſpotiſm are inſufficient to extirpate a whole people, or to ſubdue their religious prejudices. Deſirous of repairing the miſchief that he had occaſioned, he publiſhed in his own name, and in thoſe of Licinius and Conſtantine, a general edict, which, after a pompous recital of the Im⯑perial titles, proceeded in the following manner:

‘Among the important cares which have oc⯑cupied Galerius publiſhes an edict of toleration. our mind for the utility and preſerva⯑tion of the empire, it was our intention to correct and re-eſtabliſh all things according to [485] the ancient laws and public diſcipline of the Romans. We were particularly deſirous of reclaiming, into the way of reaſon and nature, the deluded Chriſtians, who had renounced the religion and ceremonies inſtituted by their fathers; and preſumptuouſly deſpiſing the practice of antiquity, had invented extravagant laws and opinions according to the dictates of their fancy, and had collected a various ſociety from the different provinces of our empire. The edicts which we have publiſhed to enforce the worſhip of the gods, having expoſed many of the Chriſtians to danger and diſtreſs, many having ſuffered death, and many more, who ſtill perſiſt in their impious folly, being left deſtitute of any public exerciſe of religion, we are diſpoſed to extend to thoſe unhappy men the effects of our wonted clemency. We per⯑mit them therefore freely to profeſs their pri⯑vate opinions, and to aſſemble in their con⯑venticles without fear or moleſtation, provided always that they preſerve a due reſpect to the eſtabliſhed laws and government. By another reſcript we ſhall ſignify our intentions to the judges and magiſtrates; and we hope that our indulgence will engage the Chriſtians to offer up their prayers to the deity whom they adore, for our ſafety and proſperity, for their own, and for that of the republic ¹⁷⁴.’ It is not [486] uſually in the language of edicts and manifeſtos, that we ſhould ſearch for the real character or the ſecret motives of princes; but as theſe were the words of a dying emperor, his ſituation, per⯑haps, may be admitted as a pledge of his ſin⯑cerity.

When Galerius ſubſcribed this edict of tolera⯑tion, Peace of the church. he was well aſſured that Licinius would readily comply with the inclinations of his friend and benefactor, and that any meaſures in favour of the Chriſtians, would obtain the approbation of Conſtantine. But the emperor would not venture to inſert in the preamble the name of Maximin, whoſe conſent was of the greateſt im⯑portance, and who ſucceeded a few days after⯑wards to the provinces of Aſia. In the firſt ſix months, however, of his new reign, Maximin affected to adopt the prudent counſels of his predeceſſor; and though he never condeſcended to ſecure the tranquillity of the church by a public edict, Sabinus, his Praetorian praefect, addreſſed a circular letter to all the governors and magiſtrates of the provinces, expatiating on the Imperial clemency, acknowledging the in⯑vincible obſtinacy of the Chriſtians, and directing the officers of juſtice to ceaſe their ineffectual proſecutions, and to connive at the ſecret aſſem⯑blies of thoſe enthuſiaſts. In conſequence of theſe orders, great numbers of Chriſtians were releaſed from priſon, or delivered from the mines. The confeſſors, ſinging hymns of triumph, re⯑turned into their own countries; and thoſe who had yielded to the violence of the tempeſt, ſoli⯑cited [487] with tears of repentance their re-admiſſion into the boſom of the church ¹⁷⁵.

But this treacherous calm was of ſhort dura⯑tion, Maximin prepares to renew the perſecuti⯑on. nor could the Chriſtians of the Eaſt place any confidence in the character of their ſovereign. Cruelty and ſuperſtition were the ruling paſſions of the ſoul of Maximin. The former ſuggeſted the means, the latter pointed out the objects, of perſecution. The emperor was devoted to the worſhip of the gods, to the ſtudy of magic, and to the belief of oracles. The prophets or phi⯑loſophers, whom he revered as the favourites of heaven, were frequently raiſed to the govern⯑ment of provinces, and admitted into his moſt ſecret councils. They eaſily convinced him, that the Chriſtians had been indebted for their vic⯑tories to their regular diſcipline, and that the weakneſs of polytheiſm had principally flowed from a want of union and ſubordination among the miniſters of religion. A ſyſtem of govern⯑ment was therefore inſtituted, which was evi⯑dently copied from the policy of the church. In all the great cities of the empire, the temples were repaired and beautified by the order of Max⯑imin; and the officiating prieſts of the various deities were ſubjected to the authority of a ſupe⯑rior pontiff, deſtined to oppoſe the biſhop, and to promote the cauſe of paganiſm. Theſe pontiffs acknowledged, in their turn, the ſupreme juriſdiction of the metropolitans or high-prieſts of the province, who acted as the immediate [488] vicegerents of the emperor himſelf. A white robe was the enſign of their dignity; and theſe new prelates were carefully ſelected from the moſt noble and opulent families. By the influ⯑ence of the magiſtrates, and of the ſacerdotal order, a great number of dutiful addreſſes were obtained, particularly from the cities of Nico⯑media, Antioch, and Tyre, which artfully repre⯑ſented the well-known intentions of the court as the general ſenſe of the people; ſolicited the emperor to conſult the laws of juſtice rather than the dictates of his clemency; expreſſed their ab⯑horrence of the Chriſtians, and humbly prayed that thoſe impious ſectaries might at leaſt be excluded from the limits of their reſpective ter⯑ritories. The anſwer of Maximin to the addreſs which he obtained from the citizens of Tyre is ſtill extant. He praiſes their zeal and devotion in terms of the higheſt ſatisfaction, deſcants on the obſtinate impiety of the Chriſtians, and be⯑trays, by the readineſs with which he conſents to their baniſhment, that he conſidered himſelf as receiving, rather than as conferring, an obliga⯑tion. The prieſts as well as the magiſtrates were empowered to enforce the execution of his edicts, which were engraved on tables of braſs; and though it was recommended to them to avoid the effuſion of blood, the moſt cruel and igno⯑minious puniſhments were inflicted on the refrac⯑tory Chriſtians ¹⁷⁶.

[489] The Aſiatic Chriſtians had every thing to dread from the ſeverity of a bigoted monarch, who prepared his meaſures of violence with ſuch End of the perſecuti⯑ons. deliberate policy. But a few months had ſcarcely elapſed, before the edicts publiſhed by the two weſtern emperors obliged Maximin to ſuſpend the proſecution of his deſigns: the civil war which he ſo raſhly undertook againſt Licinius employed all his attention; and the defeat and death of Maximin ſoon delivered the church from the laſt and moſt implacable of her enemies ¹⁷⁷.

In this general view of the perſecution, which Probable account of the ſuffer⯑ings of the martyrs and con⯑feſſors. was firſt authorized by the edicts of Diocletian, I have purpoſely refrained from deſcribing the particular ſufferings and deaths of the Chriſtian martyrs. It would have been an eaſy taſk, from the hiſtory of Euſebius, from the declamations of Lactantius, and from the moſt ancient acts, to collect a long ſeries of horrid and diſguſtful pic⯑tures, and to fill many pages with racks and ſcourges, with iron hooks, and red hot beds, and with all the variety of tortures which fire and ſteel, ſavage beaſts and more ſavage executioners, could inflict on the human body. Theſe melan⯑choly ſcenes might be enlivened by a crowd of viſions and miracles deſtined either to delay the death, to celebrate the triumph, or to diſcover the relics, of thoſe canonized ſaints who ſuffered for the name of Chriſt. But I cannot determine [490] what I ought to tranſcribe, till I am ſatisfied how much I ought to believe. The graveſt of the eccleſiaſtical hiſtorians, Euſebius himſelf, in⯑directly confeſſes, that he has related whatever might redound to the glory, and that he has ſuppreſſed all that could tend to the diſgrace, of religion ¹⁷⁸. Such an acknowledgment will na⯑turally excite a ſuſpicion that a writer who has ſo openly violated one of the fundamental laws of hiſtory, has not paid a very ſtrict regard to the obſervance of the other: and the ſuſpicion will derive additional credit from the character of Euſebius, which was leſs tinctured with cre⯑dulity, and more practiſed in the arts of courts, than that of almoſt any of his contemporaries. On ſome particular occaſions, when the magiſ⯑trates were exaſperated by ſome perſonal motives of intereſt or reſentment, when the zeal of the martyrs urged them to forget the rules of pru⯑dence, and perhaps of decency, to overturn the altars, to pour out imprecations againſt the em⯑perors, or to ſtrike the judge as he ſat on his tribunal, it may be preſumed that every mode of torture, which cruelty could invent or conſtancy could endure, was exhauſted on thoſe devoted [491] victims ¹⁷⁹. Two circumſtances, however, have been unwarily mentioned, which inſinuate that the general treatment of the Chriſtians, who had been apprehended by the officers of juſtice, was leſs intolerable than it is uſually imagined to have been. 1. The confeſſors who were con⯑demned to work in the mines, were permitted, by the humanity or the negligence of their keepers, to build chapels, and freely to profeſs their religion in the midſt of thoſe dreary habita⯑tions ¹⁸⁰. 2. The biſhops were obliged to check and to cenſure the forward zeal of the Chriſ⯑tians, who voluntarily threw themſelves into the hands of the magiſtrates. Some of theſe were perſons oppreſſed by poverty and debts, who blindly ſought to terminate a miſerable exiſtence by a glorious death. Others were allured by the hope, that a ſhort confinement would expiate the ſins of a whole life; and others again were ac⯑tuated by the leſs honourable motive of deriving a plentiful ſubſiſtence, and perhaps a conſiderable profit, from the alms which the charity of the faithful beſtowed on the priſoners ¹⁸¹. After the [492] church had triumphed over all her enemies, the intereſt as well as vanity of the captives prompted them to magnify the merit of their reſpective ſuffering. A convenient diſtance of time or place gave an ample ſcope to the progreſs of fiction; and the frequent inſtances which might be alleged of holy martyrs, whoſe wounds had been inſtantly healed, whoſe ſtrength had been renewed, and whoſe loſt members had miraculouſly been re⯑ſtored, were extremely convenient for the purpoſe of removing every difficulty, and of ſilencing every objection. The moſt extravagant legends, as they conduced to the honour of the church, were applauded by the credulous multitude, countenanced by the power of the clergy, and atteſted by the ſuſpicious evidence of eccleſiaſtical hiſtory.

The vague deſcriptions of exile and impriſon⯑ment, Number of martyrs. of pain and torture, are ſo eaſily exag⯑gerated or ſoftened by the pencil of an artful orator, that we are naturally induced to inquire into a fact of a more diſtinct and ſtubborn kind; the number of perſons who ſuffered death in conſequence of the edicts publiſhed by Diocle⯑tian, his aſſociates, and his ſucceſſors. The recent legendaries record whole armies and cities, which were at once ſwept away by the undiſtin⯑guiſhing rage of perſecution. The more ancient writers content themſelves with pouring out a liberal effuſion of looſe and tragical invectives, without conderſcending to aſcertain the preciſe number of thoſe perſons who were permitted to [493] ſeal with their blood their belief of the goſpel. From the hiſtory of Euſebius, it may however be collected, that only nine biſhops were puniſhed with death; and we are aſſured, by his particular enumeration of the martyrs of Paleſtine, that no more than ninety-two Chriſtians were entitled to that honourable appellation ¹⁸². As we are un⯑acquainted with the degree of epiſcopal zeal and courage which prevailed at that time, it is not in our power to draw any uſeful inferences from the former of theſe facts: but the latter may ſerve to juſtify a very important and probable concluſion. According to the diſtribution of Roman provinces, Paleſtine may be conſidered as the ſixteenth part of the Eaſtern empire ¹⁸³; [494] and ſince there were ſome governors, who from a real or affected clemency had preſerved their hands unſtained with the blood of the faithful ¹⁸⁴, it is reaſonable to believe, that the country which had given birth to Chriſtianity produced at leaſt the ſixteenth part of the martyrs who ſuffered death within the dominions of Galerius and Max⯑imin; the whole might conſequently amount to about fifteen hundred, a number which, if it is equally divided between the ten years of the per⯑ſecution, will allow an annual conſumption of one hundred and fifty martyrs. Allotting the ſame proportion to the provinces of Italy, Africa, and perhaps Spain, where, at the end of two or three years, the rigour of the penal laws was either ſuſpended or aboliſhed, the multitude of Chriſtians in the Roman empire, on whom a ca⯑pital puniſhment was inflicted by a judicial ſen⯑tence, will be reduced to ſomewhat leſs than two thouſand perſons. Since it cannot be doubted that the Chriſtians were more numerous, and their enemies more exaſperated, in the time of Diocletian than they had ever been in any for⯑mer perſecution, this probable and moderate computation may teach us to eſtimate the num⯑ber of primitive ſaints and martyrs who ſacrificed their lives for the important purpoſe of introdu⯑cing Chriſtianity into the world.

[495] We ſhall conclude this chapter by a melancholy truth, which obtrudes itſelf on the reluctant mind; that even admitting, without heſitation Concluſi⯑on. or enquiry, all that hiſtory has recorded, or de⯑votion has feigned, on the ſubject of martyrdoms, it muſt ſtill be acknowledged, that the Chriſtians, in the courſe of their inteſtine diſſentions, have inflicted far greater ſeverities on each other, than they had experienced from the zeal of infidels. During the ages of ignorance which followed the ſubverſion of the Roman empire in the Weſt, the biſhops of the Imperial city extended their dominion over the laity as well as clergy of the Latin church. The fabric of ſuperſtition which they had erected, and which might long have defied the feeble efforts of reaſon, was at length aſſaulted by a crowd of daring fanatics, who, from the twelfth to the ſixteenth century, aſſumed the popular character of reformers. The church of Rome defended by violence the empire which ſhe had acquired by fraud; a ſyſtem of peace and benevolence was ſoon diſgraced by proſcrip⯑tions, wars, maſſacres, and the inſtitution of the holy office. And as the reformers were animated by the love of civil, as well as of religious freedom, the Catholic princes connected their own intereſt with that of the clergy, and enforced by fire and the ſword the terrors of ſpiritual cenſures. In the Netherlands alone, more than one hundred thouſand of the ſubjects of Charles the Fifth are ſaid to have ſuffered by the hand of the execu⯑tioner; and this extraordinary number is atteſted [496] by Grotius ¹⁸⁵, a man of genius and learning, who preſerved his moderation amidſt the fury of contending ſects, and who compoſed the annals of his own age and country, at a time when the invention of printing had facilitated the means of intelligence, and increaſed the danger of de⯑tection. If we are obliged to ſubmit our belief to the authority of Grotius, it muſt be allowed, that the number of Proteſtants, who were exe⯑cuted in a ſingle province and a ſingle reign, far exceeded that of the primitive martyrs in the ſpace of three centuries, and of the Roman em⯑pire. But if the improbability of the fact itſelf ſhould prevail over the weight of evidence; if Grotius ſhould be convicted of exaggerating the merit and ſufferings of the Reformers ¹⁸⁶; we ſhall be naturally led to inquire, what confidence can be placed in the doubtful and imperfect monuments of ancient credulity; what degree of credit can be aſſigned to a courtly biſhop, and a paſſionate declaimer, who, under the protec⯑tion of Conſtantine, enjoyed the excluſive privi⯑lege of recording the perſecutions inflicted on the Chriſtians by the vanquiſhed rivals or diſ⯑regarded predeceſſors of their gracious ſovereign.