The history of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire: By Edward Gibbon, Esq; ... [pt.2]

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The history of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire: By Edward Gibbon, Esq; ... [pt.2]
Author
Gibbon, Edward, 1737-1794.
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London :: printed for W. Strahan; and T. Cadell,
1783.
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"The history of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire: By Edward Gibbon, Esq; ... [pt.2]." In the digital collection Eighteenth Century Collections Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/004848826.0001.002. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 2, 2025.

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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. * 1.1 The strong claims of merit and of violence had frequently superseded the ideal prerogatives of nobility; but a distinct line of separation was * 1.2 hitherto preserved between the free and the ser|vile part of mankind.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 1.3. 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

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by persons of his condition 2 1.4. 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 1.5. 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

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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 * 1.6 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

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stations the greater number of the servants of Carinus 4 1.7. 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 1.8.

The first considerable action of his reign seem|ed * 1.9 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, * 1.10 on whom he bestowed at first the title of Caesar, and afterwards that of Augustus 6 1.11. But the

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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 1.12, 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

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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 1.13. 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

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arm of Hercules purged the earth from monsters and tyrants 9 1.14.

But even the omnipotence of Jovius and Her|culius * 1.15 was insufficient to sustain the weight of the public administration. The prudence of Diocletian discovered, that the empire, assailed * 1.16 on every side by the barbarians, required on every side the presence of a great army, and of * 1.17 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 1.18. 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 1.19, 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

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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 1.20. 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 1.21. These four princes distributed among themselves the wide extent of the Roman empire. The defence of * 1.22 Gaul, Spain 14 1.23, 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

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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 1.24.

This important measure was not carried into * 1.25 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, * 1.26 deserves, from its singularity, to be record|ed in a history of human manners. He sup|pressed the peasants of Gaul, who, under the

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appellation of Bagaudae 16 1.27, had risen in a general insurrection; very similar to those, which in the fourteenth century successively afflicted both France and England 17 1.28. 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 1.29. 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

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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 1.30.

Their patience was at last provoked into de|spair. * 1.31 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 1.32. 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 1.33. 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 1.34. A severe retaliation was inflicted * 1.35 on the peasants who were found in arms: the affrighted remnant returned to their respective

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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 1.36, 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 * 1.37 the hands of the peasants, than he lost Britain by * 1.38 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 1.39. 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

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meanest origin 25 1.40, 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 1.41.

When Britain was thus dismembered from the * 1.42 empire, its importance was sensibly felt, and its loss sincerely lamented. The Romans celebrated,

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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 1.43. During the space of seven years, it was possessed * 1.44 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

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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 1.45.

By seizing the fleet of Boulogne, Carausius had deprived his master of the means of pursuit * 1.46 and revenge. And when, after a vast expence of time and labour, a new armament was launch|ed into the water 29 1.47, 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 1.48.

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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 * 1.49 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 * 1.50 received the intelligence of the tyrant's * 1.51 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

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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, * 1.52 which, under the command of the praefect * 1.53 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

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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 1.54.

Britain had none but domestic enemies to * 1.55 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 * 1.56 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 1.57.

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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 1.58. 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, * 1.59 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 1.60.

Notwithstanding the policy of Diocletian, it was impossible to maintain an equal and undis|turbed * 1.61 tranquillity during a reign of twenty

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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 * 1.62 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 1.63. The brave and active Constantius delivered Gaul from a very furious inroad of the Alemanni; and his victories of Langres and Vindonissa appear to

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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 1.64. 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 * 1.65 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 1.66) which had been depopulated by the calamities of war. They were usefully employed as shepherds and husbandmen, but were denied the exercise

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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 1.67. 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 1.68.

While the Caesars exercised their valour on the * 1.69 banks of the Rhine and Danube, the presence of the emperors was required on the southern confines of the Roman world. From the Nile

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to mount Atlas, Africa was in arms. A con|federacy of five Moorish nations issued from their deserts to invade the peaceful provinces 40 1.70. Julian had assumed the purple at Carthage 41 1.71. 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 1.72. * 1.73 Diocletian, on his side, opened the campaign in * 1.74 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 1.75, 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

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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 1.76. 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 1.77. 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 1.78. Yet in the public disorders these barbarians, whom anti|quity,

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shocked with the deformity of their figure, had almost excluded from the human species, presumed to rank themselves among the enemies of Rome 47 1.79. 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 1.80.

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 1.81. One very remarkable edict, which he published, instead of being con|demned

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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 * 1.82 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 1.83.
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 * 1.84 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

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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 1.85.

The reduction of Egypt was immediately fol|lowed * 1.86 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 * 1.87 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

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of the Olympian games 52 1.88. Those qualities were more nobly exerted in the defence of his bene|factor Licinius 53 1.89. That officer, in the sedition * 1.90 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 1.91.

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When Tiridates appeared on the frontiers of Armenia, he was received with an unfeigned transport of joy and loyalty. During twenty-six * 1.92 years, the country had experienced the real and * 1.93 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 * 1.94 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 1.95. It was natural, that a people exasperated by so many injuries, should arm with zeal in the cause * 1.96 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

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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 1.97. 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 1.98 and a considerable treasure, both of which, in a se|questered fortress, Otas had preserved from vio|lation. Among the Armenian nobles appeared * 1.99 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 1.100, which at that time extended as far as the neigh|bourhood

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of Sogdiana 59 1.101. 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

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a brave and faithful servant, who contri|buted very effectually to his restoration 60 1.102.

For a while, fortune appeared to favour the * 1.103 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 1.104. 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

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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 1.105.

Neither prudence nor honour could permit the * 1.106 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 * 1.107 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 1.108. 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 * 1.109 plains of Mesopotamia, and two battles were fought with various and doubtful success: but the third engagement was of a more decisive na|ture;

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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 1.110. 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 1.111. 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.

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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 1.112; yet such was his strength and dexterity, that he reached in safety the opposite bank 67 1.113. 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 * 1.114 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 1.115.

As soon as Diocletian had indulged his private * 1.116 resentment, and asserted the majesty of supreme power, he yielded to the submissive entreaties of the Caesar, and permitted him to retrieve his own * 1.117 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

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body of Gothic auxiliaries were taken into the Imperial pay 69 1.118. 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 1.119. Adversity had confirmed the Roman discipline, while the barbarians, * 1.120 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 1.121.
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,

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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 1.122. The principal loss of Narses was * 1.123 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 1.124.

While the East anxiously expected the decision of this great contest, the emperor Diocletian, * 1.125

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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 1.126. 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 * 1.127 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

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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, * 1.128 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

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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 * 1.129 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 1.130.

In pursuance of their promise, the emperors soon afterwards appointed Sicorius Probus, one * 1.131 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

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on the Armenian frontier 76 1.132. 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 * 1.133 the two nations. The conditions of a treaty so glorious to the empire, and so necessary to Persia,

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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, * 1.134 the Araxes, was fixed as the boundary between the two monarchies 77 1.135. 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 1.136. 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 * 1.137 to the Romans five provinces beyond the Tigris 79 1.138. Their situation formed a very useful barrier, and their natural strength was soon im|proved

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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 1.139. Their posterity, the Curds, with very little alteration either of name or manners, acknowledged the nominal sovereignty of the Turkish sultan. III. It * 1.140 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

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crown of Armenia 81 1.141; 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 1.142. IV. The country of Iberia was * 1.143 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 1.144. 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 1.145. The East en|joyed

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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 * 1.146 empire from tyrants and barbarians had now been completely atchieved by a succession of Illyrian peasants. As soon as Diocletian entered into the * 1.147 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 1.148. 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 1.149. 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

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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 1.150. 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, * 1.151 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 1.152. 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

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other 89 1.153. 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 * 1.154 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;

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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 1.155. To rival the majesty of Rome was the ambition likewise of Diocletian, who employed his lei|sure, * 1.156 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 1.157. The life of Diocletian and Maximian was a life

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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 1.158.

The dislike expressed by Diocletian towards * 1.159 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

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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 1.160. 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 1.161, and their place supplied by two * 1.162 faithful legions of Illyricum, who, under the new titles of Jovians and Herculians, were ap|pointed to perform the service of the Imperial

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guards 95 1.163. 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

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vanity of its members was still flattered with honorary distinctions 96 1.164; 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 * 1.165 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 1.166; 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, * 1.167 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

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of a commander over his soldiers, but of the despotic power of a master over his domestic slaves 98 1.168. 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

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among men, it was soon employed by the servile provincials of the East, in their humble addresses to the Roman throne 99 1.169. 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 1.170. 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, * 1.171 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 1.172. 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

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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 1.173. 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

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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 * 1.174 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 1.175. Reserving, therefore, for the reign of Constan|tine

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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,

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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 * 1.176 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 1.177.
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

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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 1.178. 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 * 1.179 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.

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Diocletian acquired the glory of giving to the world the first example of a resignation 106 1.180, which has not been very frequently imitated by succeed|ing monarchs. The parallel of Charles the Fifth, * 1.181 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

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already impaired their constitution, and brought on the infirmities of a premature old age 107 1.182.

Notwithstanding the severity of a very cold and rainy winter, Diocletian left Italy soon after * 1.183 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 * 1.184

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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 1.185.

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 * 1.186 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 * 1.187 day, which was the first of May 109 1.188, Maximian, as it had been previously concerted, made his resignation of the Imperial dignity at Milan.

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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 1.189, 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 * 1.190 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 1.191.

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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 * 1.192 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 1.193. 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!

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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 1.194.
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 * 1.195 doubtful nature, has reached our times, that he

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prudently withdrew himself from their power by a voluntary death 114 1.196.

Before we dismiss the consideration of the life * 1.197 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 1.198. 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 1.199. 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

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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 1.200.

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Though Constantine, from a very obvious pre|judice, affects to mention the palace of Diocle|tian with contempt 118 1.201, yet one of their suc|cessors, * 1.202 who could only see it in a neglected and mutilated state, celebrates its magnificence in terms of the highest admiration 119 1.203. 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

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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 1.204, 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

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into the heart of Dalmatia 121 1.205. 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 * 1.206 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 1.207. 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 * 1.208 civil distractions of the empire, the licence of the soldiers, the inroads of the barbarians, and

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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 1.209.

The declining age of learning and of mankind is marked, however, by the rise and rapid pro|gress * 1.210 of the new Platonists. The school of

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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 1.211, 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

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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.

Notes

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