The history of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire: By Edward Gibbon, Esq; ... [pt.5]

CHAP. XXVII. Death of Gratian.—Ruin of Arianism.—St. Am|brose.—First civil War, against Maximus.—Cha|racter, Administration, and Pennance, of Theodo|sius.—Death of Valentinian II.—Second civil War, against Eugenius.—Death of Theodosius.

THE fame of Gratian, before he had ac|complished the twentieth year of his age, was equal to that of the most cele|brated * 1.1 princes. His gentle and amiable dispo|sition endeared him to his private friends, the graceful affability of his manners engaged the affection of the people: the men of letters, who enjoyed the liberality, acknowledged the taste and eloquence, of their sovereign; his valour and dexterity in arms were equally applauded by the

soldiers; and the clergy considered the humble piety of Gratian as the first and most useful of his virtues. The victory of Colmar had delivered the West from a formidable invasion; and the grateful provinces of the East ascribed the merits of Theodosius, to the author of his greatness, and of the public safety. Gratian survived those me|morable events only four or five years; but he survived his reputation; and, before he fell a victim to rebellion, he had lost, in a great mea|sure, the respect and confidence of the Roman world.

The remarkable alteration of his character or * 1.2 conduct, may not be imputed to the arts of flat|tery, which had besieged the son of Valentinian from his infancy; nor to the headstrong passions which that gentle youth appears to have escaped. A more attentive view of the life of Gratian, may perhaps suggest the true cause of the disappoint|ment of the public hopes. His apparent vir|tues, instead of being the hardy productions of experience and adversity, were the premature and artificial fruits of a royal education. The anxious tenderness of his father was continually employed to bestow on him those advantages, which he might perhaps esteem the more highly, as he himself had been deprived of them; and the most skilful masters of every science, and of every art, had laboured to form the mind and body of the young prince 1 1.3. The knowledge which they pain|fully

communicated was displayed with ostenta|tion, and celebrated with lavish praise. His soft and tractable disposition received the fair impres|sion of their judicious precepts, and the absence of passion might easily be mistaken for the strength of reason. His preceptors gradually rose to the rank and consequence of ministers of state 2 1.4; and, as they wisely dissembled their secret autho|rity, he seemed to act with firmness, with pro|priety, and with judgment, on the most important occasions of his life and reign. But the influence of this elaborate instruction did not penetrate be|yond the surface; and the skilful preceptors, who so accurately guided the steps of their royal pupil, could not infuse into his feeble and indolent cha|racter, the vigorous and independent principle of action, which renders the laborious pursuit of glory essentially necessary to the happiness, and almost to the existence, of the hero. As soon as time and accident had removed those faithful counsellors from the throne, the emperor of the West insensibly descended to the level of his na|tural genius; abandoned the reins of government to the ambitious hands which were stretched for|wards to grasp them; and amused his leisure with the most frivolous gratifications. A public sale of favour and injustice was instituted, both

in the court, and in the provinces, by the worth|less delegates of his power, whose merit, it was made sacrilege to question 3 1.5. The conscience of the credulous prince was directed by saints and bishops 4 1.6; who procured an Imperial edict to punish, as a capital offence, the violation, the neglect, or even the ignorance, of the divine law 5 1.7. Among the various arts which had exercised the youth of Gratian, he had applied himself, with singular inclination and success, to manage the horse, to draw the bow, and to dart the jave|lin; and these qualifications, which might be useful to a soldier, were prostituted to the viler purposes of hunting. Large parks were inclosed for the Imperial pleasures, and plentifully stocked with every species of wild beasts; and Gratian neglected the duties, and even the dignity, of his rank, to consume whole days in the vain dis|play of his dexterity and boldness in the chace. The pride and wish of the Roman emperor to excel in an art, in which he might be surpassed by the meanest of his slaves, reminded the nu|merous spectators of the examples of Nero and

Commodus: but the chaste and temperate Gra|tian was a stranger to their monstrous vices; and his hands were stained only with the blood of animals 6 1.8.

The behaviour of Gratian, which degraded his * 1.9 character in the eyes of mankind, could not have disturbed the security of his reign, if the army had not been provoked to resent their peculiar injuries. As long as the young emperor was guided by the instructions of his masters, he pro|fessed himself the friend and pupil of the soldiers; many of his hours were spent in the familiar con|versation of the camp; and the health, the com|forts, the rewards, the honours, of his faithful troops, appeared to be the object of his attentive concern. But, after Gratian more freely indulged his prevailing taste for hunting and shooting, he naturally connected himself with the most dex|terous ministers of his favourite amusement. A body of the Alani was received into the military and domestic service of the palace; and the ad|mirable skill, which they were accustomed to dis|play in the unbounded plains of Scythia, was exercised, on a more narrow theatre, in the parks and inclosures of Gaul. Gratian admired the talents and customs of these favourite guards, to whom alone he entrusted the defence of his per|son:

and, as if he meant to insult the public opi|nion, he frequently shewed himself to the soldiers and people, with the dress and arms, the long bow, the sounding quiver, and the fur garments, of a Scythian warrior. The unworthy spectacle of a Roman prince, who had renounced the dress and manners of his country, filled the minds of the legions with grief and indignation 7 1.10. Even the Germans, so strong and formidable in the armies of the empire, affected to disdain the strange and horrid appearance of the savages of the North, who, in the space of a few years, had wandered from the banks of the Volga to those of the Seine. A loud and licentious murmur was echoed through the camps and garrisons of the West; and as the mild indolence of Gratian neglected to extinguish the first symptoms of discontent, the want of love and respect was not supplied by the influence of fear. But the subversion of an established go|vernment is always a work of some real, and of much apparent, difficulty; and the throne of Gratian was protected by the sanctions of custom, law, religion, and the nice balance of the civil and military powers, which had been established by the policy of Constantine. It is not very im|portant to enquire from what causes the revolt of Britain was produced. Accident is commonly the parent of disorder; the seeds of rebellion happened to fall on a soil which was supposed to be more fruitful than any other in tyrants and

usurpers 8 1.11; the legions of that sequestered island had been long famous for a spirit of presumption and arrogance 9 1.12; and the name of Maximus was * 1.13 proclaimed, by the tumultuary, but unanimous voice, both of the soldiers and of the provincials. The emperor, or the rebel, for his title was not yet ascertained by fortune, was a native of Spain, the countryman, the fellow-soldier, and the rival of Theodosius, whose elevation he had not seen without some emotions of envy and resentment: the events of his life had long since fixed him in Britain; and I should not be unwilling to find some evidence for the marriage, which he is said to have contracted with the daughter of a wealthy lord of Caernarvonshire 10 1.14. But this provincial rank might justly be considered as a state of exile and obscurity; and if Maximus had obtained any civil or military office, he was not invested with the authority either of governor or general 11 1.15.

His abilities, and even his integrity, are acknow|ledged by the partial writers of the age; and the merit must indeed have been conspicuous, that could extort such a confession in favour of the vanquished enemy of Theodosius. The discon|tent of Maximus might incline him to censure the conduct of his sovereign, and to encourage, per|haps without any views of ambition, the mur|murs of the troops. But in the midst of the tumult, he artfully, or modestly, refused to ascend the throne; and some credit appears to have been given to his own positive declaration, that he was compelled to accept the dangerous present of the Imperial purple 12 1.16.

But there was danger likewise in refusing the * 1.17 empire; and from the moment that Maximus had violated his allegiance to his lawful sovereign, he could not hope to reign, or even to live, if he confined his moderate ambition within the nar|row limits of Britain. He boldly and wisely re|solved to prevent the designs of Gratian; the youth of the island crowded to his standard, and he invaded Gaul with a fleet and army, which were long afterwards remembered, as the emi|gration of a considerable part of the British na|tion 13 1.18. The emperor, in his peaceful residence

of Paris, was alarmed by their hostile approach; and the darts which he idly wasted on lions and bears, might have been employed more honour|ably against the rebels. But his feeble efforts announced his degenerate spirit and desperate situation; and deprived him of the resources, which he still might have found, in the support of his subjects and allies. The armies of Gaul, instead of opposing the march of Maximus, re|ceived him with joyful and loyal acclamations; and the shame of the desertion was transferred from the people to the prince. The troops, whose station more immediately attached them to the service of the palace, abandoned the standard of Gratian the first time that it was displayed in the neighbourhood of Paris. The emperor of the West fled towards Lyons, with a train of only three hundred horse; and, in the cities along the road, where he hoped to find a refuge, or at least a passage, he was taught, by cruel ex|perience, that every gate is shut against the un|fortunate. Yet he might still have reached, in safety, the dominions of his brother; and soon have returned with the forces of Italy and the East; if he had not suffered himself to be fatally deceived by the perfidious governor of the Lyon|nese province. Gratian was amused by protesta|tions of doubtful fidelity, and the hopes of a

support, which could not be effectual; till the ar|rival of Andragathius, the general of the cavalry of Maximus, put an end to his suspense. That resolute officer executed, without remorse, the orders, or the intentions, of the usurper. Gra|tian, as he rose from supper, was delivered into the hands of the assassin; and his body was denied to the pious and pressing intreaties of his brother * 1.19 Valentinian 14 1.20. The death of the emperor was followed by that of his powerful general Mello|baudes, the king of the Franks; who maintained, to the last moment of his life, the ambiguous re|putation, which is the just recompence of obscure and subtle policy 15 1.21. These executions might be necessary to the public safety: but the successful usurper, whose power was acknowledged by all the provinces of the West, had the merit, and the satisfaction, of boasting, that, except those who had perished by the chance of war, his tri|umph was not stained by the blood of the Ro|mans 16 1.22.

The events of this revolution had passed in such rapid succession, that it would have been impossible for Theodosius to march to the relief * 1.23 of his benefactor, before he received the intelli|gence of his defeat and death. During the sea|son of sincere grief, or ostentatious mourning, the Eastern emperor was interrupted by the ar|rival of the principal chamberlain of Maximus: and the choice of a venerable old man, for an office which was usually exercised by eunuchs, announced to the court of Constantinople the gravity and temperance of the British usurper. The ambassador condescended to justify, or ex|cuse, the conduct of his master; and to protest, in specious language, that the murder of Gratian had been perpetrated, without his knowledge or consent, by the precipitate zeal of the soldiers. But he proceeded, in a firm and equal tone, to offer Theodosius the alternative of peace, or war. The speech of the ambassador concluded with a spirited declaration, that although Maximus, as a Roman, and as the father of his people, would chuse rather to employ his forces in the common defence of the republic, he was armed and prepared, if his friendship should be rejected, to dispute, in a field of battle, the empire of the world. An immediate and peremptory answer was required; but it was extremely difficult for Theodosius to satisfy, on this im|portant occasion, either the feelings of his own mind, or the expectations of the public. The imperious voice of honour and gratitude called aloud for revenge. From the liberality of Gra|tian,

he had received the Imperial diadem: his patience would encourage the odious suspicion, that he was more deeply sensible of former in|juries, than of recent obligations; and if he ac|cepted the friendship, he must seem to share the guilt, of the assassin. Even the principles of justice, and the interest of society, would receive a fatal blow from the impunity of Maximus: and the example of successful usurpation would tend to dissolve the artificial fabric of government, and once more to replunge the empire in the crimes and calamities of the preceding age. But, as the sentiments of gratitude and honour should invariably regulate the conduct of an individual, they may be overbalanced in the mind of a sove|reign, by the sense of superior duties: and the maxims both of justice and humanity, must per|mit the escape of an atrocious criminal, if an innocent people would be involved in the conse|quences of his punishment. The assassin of Gra|tian had usurped, but he actually possessed, the most warlike provinces of the empire: the East was exhausted by the misfortunes, and even by the success, of the Gothic war; and it was seriously to be apprehended, that, after the vital strength of the republic had been wasted in a doubtful and destructive contest, the feeble conqueror would remain an easy prey to the Bar|barians of the North. These weighty considera|tions engaged Theodosius to dissemble his resent|ment, and to accept the alliance of the tyrant. But he stipulated, that Maximus should content himself with the possession of the countries be|yond

the Alps. The brother of Gratian was confirmed and secured in the sovereignty of Italy, Africa, and the Western Illyricum; and some honourable conditions were inserted in the treaty, to protect the memory, and the laws, of the de|ceased emperor 17 1.24. According to the custom of the age, the images of the three Imperial col|leagues were exhibited to the veneration of the people: nor should it be lightly supposed, that, in the moment of a solemn reconciliation, Theo|dosius secretly cherished the intention of perfidy and revenge 18 1.25.

The contempt of Gratian for the Roman sol|diers, * 1.26 had exposed him to the fatal effects of their resentment. His profound veneration for the Christian clergy was rewarded by the applause and gratitude of a powerful order, which has claimed, in every age, the privilege of dis|pensing honours, both on earth and in heaven 19 1.27. The orthodox bishops bewailed his death, and their own irreparable loss; but they were soon comforted by the discovery, that Gratian had committed the sceptre of the East to the hands of a prince, whose humble faith, and fervent zeal, were supported by the spirit and abilities of a more vigorous character. Among the benefactors

of the church, the fame of Constantine has been rivalled by the glory of Theodosius. If Constan|tine had the advantage of erecting the standard of the cross, the emulation of his successor assumed the merit of subduing the Arian heresy, and of abolishing the worship of idols in the Roman world. Theodosius was the first of the emperors baptised in the true faith of the Trinity. Although he was born of a Christian family, the maxims, or at least the practice, of the age, encouraged him to delay the ceremony of his initiation; till he was admonished of the danger of delay, by the serious illness which threatened his life, towards the end of the first year of his reign. Before he again took the field against the Goths, he received the sacrament of baptism 20 1.28 from Acholius, the orthodox bishop of Thessalonica 21 1.29: and, as the emperor ascended from the holy font, still glow|ing with the warm feelings of regeneration, he dictated a solemn edict, which proclaimed his own faith, and prescribed the religion of his subjects.

"It is our pleasure (such is the Imperial style), that all the nations, which are governed by our clemency and moderation, should stedfastly ad|here to the religion which was taught by St.

Peter to the Romans; which faithful tradition has preserved; and which is now professed by the pontiff Damasus, and by Peter, bishop of Alexandria, a man of apostolic holiness. Ac|cording to the discipline of the apostles, and the doctrine of the gospel, let us believe the sole deity of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; under an equal majesty, and a pious Trinity. We authorise the followers of this doctrine to assume the title of Catholic Christians; and as we judge, that all others are extravagant madmen, we brand them with the infamous name of Heretics; and declare, that their conventicles shall no longer usurp the respectable appellation of churches. Besides the condemnation of Divine justice, they must expect to suffer the severe penalties, which our authority, guided by heavenly wisdom, shall think proper to inflict upon them 22 1.30."

The faith of a soldier is commonly the fruit of instruc|tion, rather than of enquiry; but as the emperor always fixed his eyes on the visible land-marks of orthodoxy, which he had so prudently constituted, his religious opinions were never affected by the specious texts, the subtle arguments, and the ambiguous creeds of the Arian doctors. Once indeed he expressed a faint inclination to converse with the eloquent and learned Eunomius, who lived in retirement at a small distance from Con|stantinople.

But the dangerous interview was pre|vented by the prayers of the Empress Flaccilla, who trembled for the salvation of her husband; and the mind of Theodosius was confirmed by a theological argument, adapted to the rudest capa|city. He had lately bestowed, on his eldest son Arcadius, the name and honours of Augustus; and the two princes were seated on a stately throne to receive the homage of their subjects. A bishop, Amphilochius of Iconium, approached the throne, and after saluting, with due reverence, the person of his sovereign, he accosted the royal youth with the same familiar tenderness, which he might have used towards a plebeian child. Provoked by this insolent behaviour, the monarch gave orders, that the rustic priest should be in|stantly driven from his presence. But while the guards were forcing him to the door, the dex|terous polemic had time to execute his design, by exclaiming, with a loud voice,

"Such is the treatment, O Emperor! which the King of Heaven has prepared for those impious men, who affect to worship the Father, but refuse to acknowledge the equal majesty of his divine Son."

Theodosius immediately embraced the bishop of Iconium; and never forgot the import|ant lesson, which he had received from this dra|matic parable 23 1.31.

Constantinople was the principal seat and for|tress of Arianism; and, in a long interval of forty years 24 1.32, the faith of the princes and prelates, who * 1.33 reigned in the capital of the East, was rejected in the purer schools of Rome and Alexandria. The archiepiscopal throne of Macedonius, which had been polluted with so much Christian blood, was successively filled by Eudoxus and Damophilus. Their diocese enjoyed a free importation of vice and error from every province of the empire; the eager pursuit of religious controversy afforded a new occupation to the busy idleness of the metro|polis; and we may credit the assertion of an in|telligent observer, who describes, with some pleasantry, the effects of their loquacious zeal.

"This city, says he, is full of mechanics and slaves, who are all of them profound theolo|gians; and preach in the shops, and in the streets. If you desire a man to change a piece of silver, he informs you, wherein the Son differs from the Father: if you ask the price of a loaf, you are told, by way of reply, that the Son is inferior to the Father; and if you enquire whether the bath is ready, the answer is, that the Son was made out of nothing 25 1.34."

The heretics, of various denominations, subsisted in peace under the protection of the Arians of Constantinople; who endeavoured to secure the attachment of those obscure sectaries; while they abused, with unrelenting severity, the victory which they had obtained over the followers of the council of Nice. During the partial reigns of Constantius and Valens, the feeble remnant of the Homoousians was deprived of the public and pri|vate exercise of their religion; and it has been observed, in pathetic language, that the scattered flock was left without a shepherd to wander on the mountains, or to be devoured by rapacious wolves 26 1.35. But, as their zeal, instead of being subdued, derived strength and vigour from op|pression, they seized the first moments of imperfect freedom, which they acquired by the death of Valens, to form themselves into a regular congre|gation, under the conduct of an episcopal pastor. Two natives of Cappadocia, Basil, and Gregory Nazianzen 27 1.36, were distinguished above all their * 1.37 contemporaries 28 1.38, by the rare union of profane

eloquence and of orthodox piety. These orators, who might sometimes be compared, by them|selves, and by the public, to the most celebrated of the ancient Greeks, were united by the ties of the strictest friendship. They had cultivated, with equal ardour, the same liberal studies in the the schools of Athens; they had retired, with equal devotion, to the same solitude in the deserts of Pontus; and every spark of emulation, or envy, appeared to be totally extinguished in the holy and ingenuous breasts of Gregory and Basil. But the exaltation of Basil, from a private life to the archiepiscopal throne of Caesarea, discovered to the world, and perhaps to himself, the pride of his character; and the first favour which he con|descended to bestow on his friend was received, and perhaps was intended, as a cruel insult 29 1.39. Instead of employing the superior talents of Gre|gory in some useful and conspicuous station, the haughty prelate selected, among the fifty bishop|rics of his extensive province, the wretched village

of Sasima 30 1.40, without water, without verdure, with|out society, situate at the junction of three high|ways, and frequented only by the incessant passage of rude and clamorous waggoners. Gregory sub|mitted with reluctance to this humiliating exile: he was ordained bishop of Sasima; but he so|lemnly protests, that he never consummated his spiritual marriage with this disgusting bride. He afterwards consented to undertake the govern|ment of his native church of Nazianzus 31 1.41, of which his father had been bishop above five-and|forty years. But as he was still conscious, that he deserved another audience, and another theatre, he accepted, with no unworthy ambition, the * 1.42 honourable invitation, which was addressed to him from the orthodox party of Constantinople. On his arrival in the capital, Gregory was enter|tained in the house of a pious and charitable kinsman; the most spacious room was consecrated to the uses of religious worship; and the name of Anastasia was chosen, to express the resurrection of the Nicene faith. This private conventicle was afterwards converted into a magnificent church; and the credulity of the succeeding age

was prepared to believe the miracles and visions, which attested the presence, or at least the pro|tection, of the Mother of God 32 1.43. The pulpit of the Anastasia was the scene of the labours and triumphs of Gregory Nazianzen; and, in the space of two years, he experienced all the spiritual adventures which constitute the prosperous or ad|verse fortunes of a missionary 33 1.44. The Arians, who were provoked by the boldness of his enter|prise, represented his doctrine, as if he had preach|ed three distinct and equal Deities; and the de|vout populace was excited to suppress, by violence and tumult, the irregular assemblies of the Atha|nasian heretics. From the cathedral of St. Sophia, there issued a motley crowd

"of common beg|gars, who had forfeited their claim to pity; of monks, who had the appearance of goats or satyrs; and of women, more terrible than so many Jezabels."

The doors of the Anastasia were broke open; much mischief was perpetrated, or attempted, with sticks, stones, and firebrands; and as a man lost his life in the affray, Gregory, who was summoned the next morning before the magistrate, had the satisfaction of supposing, that he publicly confessed the name of Christ. After he was delivered from the fear and danger of a foreign enemy, his infant church was disgraced and distracted by intestine faction. A stranger,

who assumed the name of Maximus 34 1.45, and the cloak of a Cynic philosopher, insinuated himself into the confidence of Gregory; deceived and abused his favourable opinion; and forming a secret connection with some bishops of Egypt, attempted, by a clandestine ordination, to sup|plant his patron in the episcopal seat of Constan|tinople. These mortifications might sometimes tempt the Cappadocian missionary to regret his obscure solitude. But his fatigues were rewarded by the daily increase of his fame and his congre|gation; and he enjoyed the pleasure of observing, that the greater part of his numerous audience retired from his sermons, satisfied with the elo|quence of the preacher 35 1.46, or dissatisfied with the manifold imperfections of their faith and prac|tice 36 1.47.

The Catholics of Constantinople were animated * 1.48 with joyful confidence by the baptism and edict of Theodosius; and they impatiently waited the effects of his gracious promise. Their hopes were speedily accomplished; and the emperor, as soon as he had finished the operations of the campaign, made his public entry into the capital at the head

of a victorious army. The next day after his arrival, he summoned Damophilus to his pre|fence; and offered that Arian prelate the hard alternative of subscribing the Nicene creed, or of instantly resigning, to the orthodox believers, the use and possession of the episcopal palace, the cathedral of St. Sophia, and all the churches of Constantinople. The zeal of Damophilus, which in a Catholic saint would have been justly applauded, embraced, without hesitation, a life of poverty and exile 37 1.49; and his removal was im|mediately followed by the purification of the Im|perial City. The Arians might complain, with some appearance of justice, that an inconsiderable congregation of sectaries should usurp the hun|dred churches, which they were insufficient to fill: whilst the far greater part of the people was cruelly excluded from every place of religious worship. Theodosius was still inexorable: but as the angels who protected the Catholic cause, were only visible to the eyes of faith, he prudently reinforced those heavenly legions, with the more effectual aid of temporal and carnal weapons: and the church of St. Sophia was occupied by a large body of the Imperial guards. If the mind of Gregory was susceptible of pride, he must have felt a very lively satisfaction, when the emperor conducted him through the streets in solemn triumph; and, with his own hand, respectfully

placed him on the archiepiscopal throne of Con|stantinople. But the saint (who had not subdued the imperfections of human virtue) was deeply affected by the mortifying consideration, that his entrance into the fold was that of a wolf, rather than of a shepherd: that the glittering arms, which surrounded his person, were necessary for his safety; and that he alone was the object of the imprecations of a great party, whom, as men and citizens, it was impossible for him to despise. He beheld the innumerable multitude of either sex, and of every age, who crowded the streets, the windows, and the roofs of the houses; he heard the tumultuous voice of rage, grief, astonishment, and despair; and Gregory fairly confesses, that on the memorable day of his installation, the capital of the East wore the appearance of a city taken by storm, and in the hands of a Barbarian con|queror 38 1.50. About six weeks afterwards, Theodo|sius declared his resolution of expelling from all the churches of his dominions, the bishops and their clergy, who should obstinately refuse to be|lieve, or at least to profess, the doctrine of the council of Nice. His lieutenant Sapor was armed with the ample powers of a general law, a special * 1.51 commission, and a military force 39 1.52; and this ec|clesiastical

revolution was conducted with so much discretion and vigour, that the religion of the emperor was established, without tumult, or blood|shed, in all the provinces of the East. The wri|tings of the Arians, if they had been permitted to exist 40 1.53, would perhaps contain the lamentable story of the persecution, which afflicted the church under the reign of the impious Theodosius; and the sufferings of their holy confessors, might claim the pity of the disinterested reader. Yet there is reason to imagine that the violence of zeal and revenge was, in some measure, eluded by the want of resistance; and that, in their adversity, the Arians displayed much less firmness, than had been exerted by the orthodox party under the reigns of Constantius and Valens. The moral character and conduct of the hostile sects appear to have been governed by the same common principles of nature and religion: but a very material circum|stance may be discovered, which tended to dis|tinguish the degrees of their theological faith. Both parties, in the schools, as well as in the temples, acknowledged and worshipped the divine majesty of Christ; and, as we are always prone to impute our own sentiments and passions to the Deity, it would be deemed more prudent and re|spectful to exaggerate, than to circumscribe, the adorable perfections of the Son of God. The disciple of Athanasius exulted in the proud con|fidence, that he had entitled himself to the divine

favour: while the follower of Arius must have been tormented, by the secret apprehension, that he was guilty, perhaps, of an unpardonable offence, by the scanty praise, and parsimonious honours, which he bestowed on the Judge of the World. The opinions of Arianism might satisfy a cold and speculative mind: but the doctrine of the Nicene Creed, most powerfully recommended by the merits of faith and devotion, was much better adapted to become popular and successful in a believing age.

The hope that truth and wisdom would be * 1.54 found in the assemblies of the orthodox clergy, induced the emperor to convene, at Constanti|nople, a synod of one hundred and fifty bishops, who proceeded, without much difficulty or delay, to complete the theological system which had been established in the council of Nice. The vehement disputes of the fourth century had been chiefly employed on the nature of the Son of God: and the various opinions, which were em|braced concerning the Second, were extended and transferred, by a natural analogy, to the Third, person of the Trinity 41 1.55. Yet it was found, or it was thought, necessary, by the victorious adver|saries of Arianism, to explain the ambiguous lan|guage

of some respectable doctors; to confirm the faith of the Catholics; and to condemn an unpopular and inconsistent sect of Macedonians; who freely admitted that the Son was consubstan|tial to the Father, while they were fearful of seem|ing to acknowledge the existence of Three Gods. A final and unanimous sentence was pronounced to ratify the equal Deity of the Holy Ghost; the mysterious doctrine has been received by all the nations, and all the churches of the Christian world; and their grateful reverence has assigned to the bishops of Theodosius, the second rank among the general councils 42 1.56. Their knowledge of religious truth may have been preserved by tra|dition, or it may have been communicated by inspiration; but the sober evidence of history will not allow much weight to the personal au|thority of the Fathers of Constantinople. In an age, when the ecclesiastics had scandalously de|generated from the model of apostolical purity, the most worthless and corrupt were always the most eager to frequent, and disturb, the episcopal assemblies. The conflict and fermentation of so many opposite interests and tempers inflamed the passions of the bishops: and their ruling passions were, the love of gold, and the love of dispute. Many of the same prelates who now applauded the orthodox piety of Theodosius, had repeatedly changed, with prudent flexibility, their creeds

and opinions; and in the various revolutions of the church and state, the religion of their sove|reign was the rule of their obsequious faith. When the emperor suspended his prevailing in|fluence, the turbulent synod was blindly impelled, by the absurd or selfish motives of pride, hatred, and resentment. The death of Meletius, which happened at the council of Constantinople, pre|sented the most favourable opportunity of ter|minating the schism of Antioch, by suffering his aged rival, Paulinus, peaceably to end his days in the episcopal chair. The faith and virtues of Paulinus were unblemished. But his cause was supported by the Western churches: and the bishops of the synod resolved to perpetuate the mischiefs of discord, by the hasty ordination of a perjured candidate 43 1.57, rather than to betray the imagined dignity of the East, which had been illustrated by the birth and death of the Son of God. Such unjust and disorderly proceedings forced the gravest members of the assembly to dissent and to secede; and the clamorous ma|jority, which remained masters of the field of battle, could be compared only to wasps or mag|pies, to a flight of cranes, or to a flock of geese 44 1.58.

A suspicion may possibly arise, that so unfa|vourable a picture of ecclesiastical synods has been drawn by the partial hand of some obstinate here|tic, * 1.59 or some malicious infidel. But the name of the sincere historian who has conveyed this in|structive lesson to the knowledge of posterity, must silence the impotent murmurs of superstition and bigotry. He was one of the most pious and eloquent bishops of the age; a saint and a doctor of the church; the scourge of Arianism, and the pillar of the orthodox faith; a distinguished mem|ber of the council of Constantinople, in which, after the death of Meletius, he exercised the functions of president: in a word—Gregory Na|zianzen himself. The harsh and ungenerous treatment which he experienced 45 1.60, instead of de|rogating from the truth of his evidence, affords an additional proof of the spirit which actuated the deliberations of the synod. Their unanimous suffrage had confirmed the pretensions which the bishop of Constantinople derived from the choice of the people, and the approbation of the em|peror. But Gregory soon became the victim of malice and envy. The bishops of the East, his strenuous adherents, provoked by his moderation

in the affairs of Antioch, abandoned him, without support, to the adverse faction of the Egyptians; who disputed the validity of his election, and rigorously asserted the obsolete canon, that pro|hibited the licentious practice of episcopal transla|tions. The pride, or the humility, of Gregory prompted him to decline a contest which might have been imputed to ambition and avarice; and he publicly offered, not without some mixture of indignation, to renounce the government of a church, which had been restored, and almost created, by his labours. His resignation was accepted by the synod, and by the emperor, with more readiness than he seems to have expected. At the time when he might have hoped to enjoy the fruits of his victory, his episcopal throne was filled by the senator Nectarius; and the new arch|bishop, accidentally recommended by his easy temper and venerable aspect, was obliged to de|lay the ceremony of his consecration, till he had previously dispatched the rites of his baptism 46 1.61. After this remarkable experience of the ingrati|tude of princes and prelates, Gregory retired once more to his obscure solitude of Cappadocia; where he employed the remainder of his life, about eight years, in the exercises of poetry and devotion. The title of Saint has been added to

his name; but the tenderness of his heart 47 1.62, and the elegance of his genius, reflect a more pleasing lustre on the memory of Gregory Nazianzen.

It was not enough that Theodosius had sup|pressed * 1.63 the insolent reign of Arianism, or that he had abundantly revenged the injuries which the Catholics sustained from the zeal of Constantius and Valens. The orthodox emperor considered every heretic as a rebel against the supreme powers of heaven, and of earth; and each of those powers might exercise their peculiar jurisdiction over the soul and body of the guilty. The decrees of the council of Constantinople had ascertained the true standard of the faith; and the ecclesiastics, who governed the conscience of Theodosius, suggested the most effectual methods of persecution. In the space of fifteen years, he promulgated at least fifteen severe edicts against the heretics 48 1.64; more especially against those who rejected the doctrine of the Trinity; and, to deprive them of every hope of escape, he sternly enacted, that if any laws, or rescripts, should be alleged in their fa|vour, the judges should consider them as the ille|gal productions either of fraud, or forgery. The penal statutes were directed against the ministers, the assembles, and the persons, of the heretics; and the passions of the legislator were expressed

in the language of declamation and invective. I. The heretical teachers, who usurped the sacred titles of Bishops, or Presbyters, were not only ex|cluded from the privileges and emoluments so liberally granted to the orthodox clergy, but they were exposed to the heavy penalties of exile and confiscation, if they presumed to preach the doctrine, or to practise the rites, of their accursed sects. A fine of ten pounds of gold (above four hundred pounds Sterling) was imposed on every person who should dare to confer, or receive, or pro|mote, an heretical ordination: and it was reason|ably expected, that if the race of pastors could be extinguished, their helpless flocks would be com|pelled, by ignorance and hunger, to return within the pale of the Catholic Church. II. The rigor|ous prohibition of conventicles was carefully ex|tended to every possible circumstance, in which the heretics could assemble with the intention of worshipping God and Christ according to the dictates of their conscience. Their religious meetings, whether public or secret, by day or by night, in cities or in the country, were equally proscribed by the edicts of Theodosius; and the building, or ground, which had been used for that illegal purpose, was forfeited to the Imperial do|main. III. It was supposed, that the error of the heretics could proceed only from the obstinate temper of their minds; and that such a temper was a fit object of censure and punishment. The anathemas of the church were fortified by a sort of civil excommunication; which separated them from their fellow-citizens, by a peculiar brand of

infamy; and this declaration of the supreme ma|gistrate tended to justify, or at least to excuse, the insults of a fanatic populace. The sectaries were gradually disqualified for the possession of honour|able, or lucrative, employments; and Theodosius was satisfied with his own justice, when he decreed, that, as the Eunomians distinguished the nature of the Son from that of the Father, they should be incapable of making their wills, or of receiv|ing any advantage from testamentary donations. The guilt of the Manichaean heresy was esteemed of such magnitude, that it could be expiated only by the death of the offender; and the same capital punishment was inflicted on the Audians, or Quar|todecimans 49 1.65, who should dare to perpetrate the atrocious crime, of celebrating, on an improper day, the festival of Easter. Every Roman might exercise the right of public accusation; but the office of Inquisitors of the Faith, a name so deserv|edly abhorred, was first instituted under the reign of Theodosius. Yet we are assured, that the exe|cution of his penal edicts was seldom enforced; and that the pious emperor appeared less desirous to punish, than to reclaim, or terrify, his refractory subjects 50 1.66.

The theory of persecution was established by * 1.67 Theodosius, whose justice and piety have been applauded by the saints; but the practice of it,

in the fullest extent, was reserved for his rival and colleague Maximus, the first, among the Christian princes, who shed the blood of his Christian subjects, on account of their religious opinions. The cause of the Priscillianists 51 1.68, a recent sect of heretics, who disturbed the provinces of Spain, was transferred, by appeal, from the synod of Bourdeaux to the Imperial consistory of Treves; and by the sentence of the Praetorian praefect, seven persons were tortured, condemned, and executed. The first of these was Priscillian 52 1.69 himself, bishop of Avila 53 1.70, in Spain; who adorned the advantages of birth and fortune, by the ac|complishments of eloquence and learning. Two presbyters, and two deacons, accompanied their beloved master in his death, which they esteemed as a glorious martyrdom; and the number of re|ligious victims was completed by the execution of Latronian, a poet, who rivalled the fame of the ancients; and of Euchrocia, a noble matron of Bourdeaux, the widow of the orator Delphi|dius 54 1.71.

Two bishops, who had embraced the sentiments of Priscillian, were condemned to a distant and dreary exile 55 1.72; and some indulgence was shewn to the meaner criminals, who assumed the merit of an early repentance. If any credit could be allowed to confessions extorted by fear or pain, and to vague reports, the offspring of malice and credulity, the heresy of the Priscil|lianists would be found to include the various abominations of magic, of impiety, and of lewd|ness 56 1.73. Priscillian, who wandered about the world in the company of his spiritual sisters, was accused of praying stark-naked in the midst of the congregation; and it was confidently asserted, that the effects of his criminal intercourse with the daughter of Euchrocia, had been suppressed, by means still more odious and criminal. But an accurate, or rather a candid, enquiry, will dis|cover, that if the Priscillianists violated the laws of nature, it was not by the licentiousness, but by the austerity, of their lives. They absolutely con|demned the use of the marriage-bed; and the peace of families was often disturbed by indiscreet separations. They enjoined, or recommended, a total abstinence from all animal food; and their

continual prayers, fasts, and vigils, inculcated a rule of strict and perfect devotion. The specu|lative tenets of the sect, concerning the person of Christ, and the nature of the human soul, were derived from the Gnostic and Manichaean system; and this vain philosophy, which had been trans|ported from Egypt to Spain, was ill adapted to the grosser spirits of the West. The obscure dis|ciples of Priscillian suffered, languished, and gra|dually disappeared: his tenets were rejected by the clergy and people, but his death was the sub|ject of a long and vehement controversy; while some arraigned, and others applauded, the justice of his sentence. It is with pleasure that we can observe, the humane inconsistency of the most illustrious saints and bishops, Ambrose of Milan 57 1.74, and Martin of Tours 58 1.75; who, on this occasion, asserted the cause of toleration. They pitied the unhappy men, who had been executed at Treves; they refused to hold communion with their epis|copal murderers; and if Martin deviated from that generous resolution, his motives were laudable, and his repentance was exemplary. The bishops of Tours and Milan pronounced, without hesita|tion, the eternal damnation of heretics; but they were surprised, and shocked, by the bloody image of their temporal death, and the honest feelings of

nature resisted the artificial prejudices of theology. The humanity of Ambrose and Martin was con|firmed by the scandalous irregularity of the pro|ceedings against Priscillian, and his adherents. The civil and ecclesiastical ministers had trans|gressed the limits of their respective provinces. The secular judge had presumed to receive an appeal, and to pronounce a definitive sentence, in a matter of faith, and episcopal jurisdiction. The bishops had disgraced themselves, by exer|cising the function of accusers in a criminal pro|secution. The cruelty of Ithacius 59 1.76, who beheld the tortures, and solicited the death, of the heretics, provoked the just indignation of mankind; and the vices of that profligate bishop were admitted as a proof, that his zeal was instigated by the sor|did motives of interest. Since the death of Pris|cillian, the rude attempts of persecution have been refined and methodised in the holy office, which assigns their distinct parts to the ecclesiasti|cal and secular powers. The devoted victim is regularly delivered by the priest to the magistrate, and by the magistrate to the executioner; and the inexorable sentence of the church, which de|clares the spiritual guilt of the offender, is ex|pressed in the mild language of pity and inter|cession.

Among the ecclesiastics, who illustrated the * 1.77 reign of Theodosius, Gregory Nazianzen was distinguished by the talents of an eloquent preacher;

the reputation of miraculous gifts, added weight and dignity to the monastic virtues of Martin of Tours 60 1.78; but the palm of episcopal vigour and ability was justly claimed by the intrepid Am|brose 61 1.79. He was descended from a noble family of Romans; his father had exercised the im|portant office of Praetorian praefect of Gaul; and the son, after passing through the studies of a liberal education, attained, in the regular grada|tion of civil honours, the station of consular of Liguria, a province which included the Imperial residence of Milan. At the age of thirty-four, and before he had received the sacrament of bap|tism, Ambrose, to his own surprise, and to that of the world, was suddenly transformed from a go|vernor to an archbishop. Without the least mix|ture, as it is said, of art or intrigue, the whole body of the people unanimously saluted him with the episcopal title; the concord and perseverance of their acclamations were ascribed to a praeter|natural impulse; and the reluctant magistrate was compelled to undertake a spiritual office, for which he was not prepared by the habits and occupations of his former life. But the active force of his genius soon qualified him to exercise, with zeal

and prudence, the duties of his ecclesiastical juris|diction; and, while he cheerfully renounced the vain and splendid trappings of temporal greatness, he condescended, for the good of the church, to direct the conscience of the emperors, and to con|troul the administration of the empire. Gratian loved and revered him as a father; and the ela|borate treatise on the saith of the Trinity, was designed for the instruction of the young prince. After his tragic death, at a time when the em|press Justina trembled for her own safety, and for that of her son Valentinian, the archbishop of Milan was dispatched, on two different embassies, to the court of Treves. He exercised, with equal firmness and dexterity, the powers of his spiritual and political characters; and perhaps contributed, by his authority and eloquence, to check the am|bition of Maximus, and to protect the peace of Italy 62 1.80. Ambrose had devoted his life, and his abilities, to the service of the church. Wealth was the object of his contempt; he had renounced his private patrimony; and he sold, without hesita|tion, the consecrated plate for the redemption of captives. The clergy and people of Milan were attached to their archbishop; and he deserved the esteem, without soliciting the favour, or ap|prehending the displeasure, of his feeble sove|reigns.

The government of Italy, and of the young * 1.81 emperor, naturally devolved to his mother Justina, a woman of beauty and spirit, but who, in the

midst of an orthodox people, had the misfortune of professing the Arian heresy, which she endea|voured to instil into the mind of her son. Justina was persuaded, that a Roman emperor might claim, in his own dominions, the public exercise of his religion; and she proposed to the arch|bishop, as a moderate and reasonable concession, that he should resign the use of a single church, either in the city or suburbs of Milan. But the conduct of Ambrose was governed by very dif|ferent principles 63 1.82. The palaces of the earth might indeed belong to Caesar; but the churches were the houses of God; and, within the limits of his diocese, he himself, as the lawful successor of the apostles, was the only minister of God. The privileges of Christianity, temporal as well as spi|ritual, were confined to the true believers; and the mind of Ambrose was satisfied, that his own theological opinions were the standard of truth and orthodoxy. The archbishop, who refused to hold any conference, or negociation, with the in|struments of Satan, declared, with modest firm|ness, his resolution to die a martyr, rather than to yield to the impious sacrilege; and Justina, who resented the refusal as an act of insolence and re|bellion, hastily determined to exert the Imperial prerogative of her son. As she desired to perform her public devotions on the approaching festival

of Easter, Ambrose was ordered to appear before the council. He obeyed the summons with the respect of a faithful subject, but he was followed, without his consent, by an innumerable people: they pressed, with impetuous zeal, against the gates of the palace; and the affrighted ministers of Valentinian, instead of pronouncing a sentence of exile on the archbishop of Milan, humbly re|quested that he would interpose his authority, to protect the person of the emperor, and to restore the tranquillity of the capital. But the promises which Ambrose received and communicated, were soon violated by a perfidious court; and, during six of the most solemn days, which Christian piety has set apart for the exercise of religion, the city was agitated by the irregular convulsions of tumult and fanaticism. The officers of the household were directed to prepare, first, the Portian, and afterwards, the new, Basilica, for the immediate reception of the emperor, and his mother. The splendid canopy and hangings of the royal seat were arranged in the customary manner; but it was found necessary to defend them, by a strong guard, from the insults of the populace. The Arian ecclesiastics, who ventured to shew them|selves in the streets, were exposed to the most imminent danger of their lives: and Ambrose enjoyed the merit and reputation of rescuing his personal enemies from the hands of the enraged multitude.

But while he laboured to restrain the effects of their zeal, the pathetic vehemence of his sermons continually inflamed the angry and seditious tem|per

of the people of Milan. The characters of Eve, of the wife of Job, of Jezabel, of Herodias, were indecently applied to the mother of the em|peror; and her desire to obtain a church for the Arians, was compared to the most cruel perse|cutions which Christianity had endured under the reign of Paganism. The measures of the court served only to expose the magnitude of the evil. A fine of two hundred pounds of gold was imposed on the corporate body of merchants and manu|facturers: an order was signified, in the name of the emperor, to all the officers, and inferior ser|vants, of the courts of justice, that, during the continuance of the public disorders, they should strictly confine themselves to their houses: and the ministers of Valentinian imprudently con|fessed, that the most respectable part of the citi|zens of Milan was attached to the cause of their archbishop. He was again solicited to restore peace to his country, by a timely compliance with the will of his sovereign. The reply of Am|brose was couched in the most humble and re|spectful terms, which might, however, be inter|preted as a serious declaration of civil war.

"His life and fortune were in the hands of the em|peror; but he would never betray the church of Christ, or degrade the dignity of the episcopal character. In such a cause, he was prepared to suffer whatever the malice of the daemon could inflict; and he only wished to die in the presence of his faithful flock, and at the foot of the altar; he had not contributed to excite, but it was in the power of God alone to ap|pease,

the rage of the people: he deprecated the scenes of blood and confusion, which were likely to ensue; and it was his fervent prayer, that he might not survive to behold the ruin of a flourishing city, and perhaps the desolation of all Italy 64 1.83."

The obstinate bigotry of Justina would have endangered the empire of her son, if, in this contest with the church and people of Milan, she could have depended on the active obedience of the troops of the palace. A large body of Goths had marched to occupy the Basilica, which was the object of the dispute: and it might be expected from the Arian principles, and bar|barous manners, of these foreign mercenaries, that they would not entertain any scruples in the execution of the most sanguinary orders. They were encountered, on the sacred threshold, by the archbishop, who, thundering against them a sen|tence of excommunication, asked them, in the tone of a father and a master, Whether it was to invade the house of God, that they had implored the hospitable protection of the republic? The suspense of the Barbarians allowed some hours for a more effectual negociation; and the empress was persuaded, by the advice of her wisest coun|sellors, to leave the Catholics in possession of all the churches of Milan; and to dissemble, till a

more convenient season, her intentions of revenge. The mother of Valentinian could never forgive the triumph of Ambrose; and the royal youth uttered a passionate exclamation, that his own servants were ready to betray him into the hands of an insolent priest.

The laws of the empire, some of which were * 1.84 inscribed with the name of Valentinian, still con|demned the Arian heresy, and seemed to excuse the resistance of the Catholics. By the influence of Justina, an edict of toleration was promulgated in all the provinces which were subject to the court of Milan; the free exercise of their religion was granted to those who professed the faith of Rimini; and the emperor declared, that all per|sons who should infringe this sacred and salutary constitution, should be capitally punished, as the enemies of the public peace 65 1.85. The character and language of the archbishop of Milan may justify the suspicion, that his conduct soon afforded a reasonable ground, or at least a specious pre|tence, to the Arian ministers; who watched the opportunity of surprising him in some act of dis|obedience to a law, which he strangely represents as a law of blood and tyranny. A sentence of easy and honourable banishment was pronounced, which enjoined Ambrose to depart from Milan without delay; whilst it permitted him to chuse the place of his exile, and the number of his companions. But the authroity of the saints, who have preached and practised the maxims of

passive loyalty, appeared to Ambrose of less mo|ment than the extreme and pressing danger of the church. He boldly refused to obey; and his refusal was supported by the unanimous consent of his faithful people 66 1.86. They guarded by turns the person of their archbishop; the gates of the cathedral and the episcopal palace were strongly secured; and the Imperial troops, who had formed the blockade, were unwilling to risk the attack, of that impregnable fortress. The numerous poor, who had been relieved by the liberality of Ambrose, embraced the fair occasion of signalising their zeal and gratitude; and as the patience of the multitude might have been exhausted by the length and uniformity of nocturnal vigils, he prudently introduced into the church of Milan the useful institution of a loud and regular psalm|ody. While he maintained this arduous con|test, he was instructed, by a dream, to open the earth in a place where the remains of two martyrs, Gervasius and Protasius 67 1.87, had been deposited above three hundred years. Immediately under the pavement of the church two perfect skeletons were found 68 1.88, with the heads separated from their

bodies, and a plentiful effusion of blood. The holy relics were presented, in solemn pomp, to the veneration of the people; and every circum|stance of this fortunate discovery was admirably adapted to promote the designs of Ambrose. The bones of the martyrs, their blood, their garments, were supposed to contain a healing power; and the praeternatural influence was communicated to the most distant objects, without losing any part of its original virtue. The extraordinary cure of a blind man 69 1.89, and the reluctant confessions of several daemoniacs, appeared to justify the faith and sanctity of Ambrose; and the truth of those miracles is attested by Ambrose himself, by his secretary Paulinus, and by his proselyte, the ce|lebrated Augustin, who, at that time, professed the art of rhetoric in Milan. The reason of the present age may possibly approve the incredulity of Justina and her Arian court; who derided the theatrical representations, which were exhibited by the contrivance, and at the expence, of the archbishop 70 1.90. Their effect, however, on the minds of the people, was rapid and irresistible; and the feeble sovereign of Italy found himself

unable to contend with the favourite of heaven. The powers likewise of the earth interposed in the defence of Ambrose: the disinterested advice of Theodosius was the genuine result of piety and friendship; and the mask of religious zeal con|cealed the hostile and ambitious designs of the tyrant of Gaul 71 1.91.

The reign of Maximus might have ended in * 1.92 peace and prosperity, could he have contented himself with the possession of three ample coun|tries, which now constitute the three most flou|rishing kingdoms of modern Europe. But the aspiring usurper, whose sordid ambition was not dignified by the love of glory and of arms, con|sidered his actual forces as the instruments only of his future greatness, and his success was the immediate cause of his destruction. The wealth which he extorted 72 1.93 from the oppressed provinces of Gaul, Spain, and Britain, was employed in levying and maintaining a formidable army of Barbarians, collected, for the most part, from the fiercest nations of Germany. The conquest of Italy was the object of his hopes and preparations; and he secretly meditated the ruin of an innocent youth, whose government was abhorred and de|spised by his Catholic subjects. But as Maximus wished to occupy, without resistance, the passes of

the Alps, he received, with perfidious smiles, Domninus of Syria, the ambassador of Valen|tinian, and pressed him to accept the aid of a considerable body of troops, for the service of a Pannonian war. The penetration of Ambrose had discovered the snares of an enemy under the professions of friendship 73 1.94; but the Syrian Dom|ninus was corrupted, or deceived, by the liberal favour of the court of Treves; and the council of Milan obstinately rejected the suspicion of dan|ger, with a blind confidence, which was the effect, not of courage, but of fear. The march of the auxiliaries was guided by the ambassador; and they were admitted, without distrust, into the fortresses of the Alps. But the crafty tyrant fol|lowed, with hasty and silent footsteps, in the rear; and, as he diligently intercepted all intelligence of his motions, the gleam of armour, and the dust excited by the troops of cavalry, first announced the hostile approach of a stranger to the gates of Milan. In this extremity, Justina and her son might accuse their own imprudence, and the per|fidious arts of Maximus; but they wanted time, and force, and resolution, to stand against the Gauls and Germans, either in the field, or within the walls of a large and disaffected city. Flight was their only hope, Aquileia their only refuge; and as Maximus now displayed his genuine cha|racter, the brother of Gratian might expect the same fate from the hands of the same assassin.

Maximus entered Milan in triumph; and if the wise archbishop refused a dangerous and criminal connection with the usurper, he might indirectly contribute to the success of his arms, by incul|cating, from the pulpit, the duty of resignation, rather than that of resistance 74 1.95. The unfortunate Justina reached Aquileia in safety; but she dis|trusted the strength of the fortifications; she dreaded the event of a siege; and she resolved to implore the protection of the great Theodosius, whose power and virtue were celebrated in all the countries of the West. A vessel was secretly pro|vided to transport the Imperial family; they embarked with precipitation in one of the obscure harbours of Venetia, or Istria; traversed the whole extent of the Hadriatic and Ionian seas; turned the extreme promontory of Peloponnesus; and, after a long, but successful, navigation, re|posed themselves in the port of Thessalonica. All the subjects of Valentinian deserted the cause of a prince, who, by his abdication, had absolved * 1.96 them from the duty of allegiance; and if the little city of Aemona, on the verge of Italy, had not presumed to stop the career of his inglorious victory, Maximus would have obtained, without a struggle, the sole possession of the western em|pire.

Instead of inviting his royal guests to the palace * 1.97 of Constantinople, Theodosius had some unknown reasons to fix their residence at Thessalonica; but

these reasons did not proceed from contempt or indifference, as he speedily made a visit to that city, accompanied by the greatest part of his court and senate. After the first tender expres|sions of friendship and sympathy, the pious emperor of the East gently admonished Justina, that the guilt of heresy was sometimes punished in this world, as well as in the next; and that the public profession of the Nicene faith, would be the most efficacious step to promote the restoration of her son, by the satisfaction which it must occasion both on earth and in heaven. The momentous question of peace or war was referred, by Theo|dosius, to the deliberation of his council; and the arguments which might be alleged on the side of honour and justice, had acquired, since the death of Gratian, a considerable degree of addi|tional weight. The persecution of the Imperial family, to which Theodosius himself had been in|debted for his fortune, was now aggravated by recent and repeated injuries. Neither oaths nor treaties could restrain the boundless ambition of Maximus; and the delay of vigorous and decisive measures, instead of prolonging the blessings of peace, would expose the eastern empire to the danger of an hostile invasion. The Barbarians, who had passed the Danube, had lately assumed the character of soldiers and subjects, but their native fierceness was yet untamed; and the ope|rations of a war, which would exercise their valour, and diminish their numbers, might tend to relieve the provinces from an intolerable oppression. Notwithstanding these specious and solid reasons,

which were approved by a majority of the coun|cil, Theodosius still hesitated, whether he should draw the sword in a contest, which could no longer admit any terms of reconciliation; and his mag|nanimous character was not disgraced by the ap|prehensions which he felt for the safety of his in|fant sons, and the welfare of his exhausted people. In this moment of anxious doubt, while the fate of the Roman world depended on the resolution of a single man, the charms of the princess Galla most powerfully pleaded the cause of her brother Valentinian 75 1.98. The heart of Theodosius was softened by the tears of beauty; his affections were insensibly engaged by the graces of youth and innocence; the art of Justina managed and directed the impulse of passion; and the celebra|tion of the royal nuptials was the assurance and signal of the civil war. The unfeeling critics, who consider every amorous weakness as an in|delible stain on the memory of a great and ortho|dox emperor, are inclined, on this occasion, to dispute the suspicious evidence of the historian Zosimus. For my own part, I shall frankly con|fess, that I am willing to find, or even to seek, in the revolutions of the world, some traces of the mild and tender sentiments of domestic life; and, amidst the crowd of fierce and ambitious con|querors, I can distinguish, with peculiar com|placency,

a gentle hero, who may be supposed to receive his armour from the hands of love. The alliance of the Persian king was secured by the faith of treaties; the martial Barbarians were per|suaded to follow the standard, or to respect the frontiers, of an active and liberal monarch; and the dominions of Theodosius, from the Euphrates to the Hadriatic, resounded with the preparations of war both by land and sea. The skilful dis|position of the forces of the East seemed to mul|tiply their numbers, and distracted the attention of Maximus. He had reason to fear, that a chosen body of troops, under the command of the in|trepid Arbogastes, would direct their march along the banks of the Danube, and boldly pene|trate through the Rhaetian provinces into the centre of Gaul. A powerful fleet was equipped in the harbours of Greece and Epirus, with an apparent design, that as soon as the passage had been opened by a naval victory, Valentinian, and his mother, should land in Italy, proceed, with|out delay, to Rome, and occupy the majestic seat of religion and empire. In the mean while, Theodosius himself advanced at the head of a brave and disciplined army, to encounter his un|worthy rival, who, after the siege of Aemona, had fixed his camp in the neighbourhood of Siscia, a city of Pannonia, strongly fortified by the broad and rapid stream of the Save.

The veterans, who still remembered the long * 1.99 resistance, and successive resources, of the tyrant Magnentius, might prepare themselves for the labours of three bloody campaigns. But the con|test

with his successor, who, like him, had usurped the throne of the West, was easily decided in the term of two months 76 1.100, and within the space of two hundred miles. The superior genius of the emperor of the East might prevail over the feeble Maximus; who, in this important crisis, shewed himself destitute of military skill, or personal cou|rage; but the abilities of Theodosius were se|conded by the advantage which he possessed of a numerous and active cavalry. The Huns, the Alani, and, after their example, the Goths them|selves, were formed into squadrons of archers; who fought on horseback, and confounded the steady valour of the Gauls and Germans, by the rapid motions of a Tartar war. After the fatigue of a long march, in the heat of summer, they spurred their foaming horses into the waters of the Save, swam the river in the presence of the enemy, and instantly charged and routed the troops who guarded the high ground on the oppo|site side. Marcellinus, the tyrant's brother, ad|vanced to support them with the select cohorts, which were considered as the hope and strength of the army. The action, which had been inter|rupted by the approach of night, was renewed in the morning; and, after a sharp conflict, the sur|viving remnant of the bravest soldiers of Maxi|mus threw down their arms at the feet of the con|queror. Without suspending his march, to re|ceive the loyal acclamations of the citizens of Aemona, Theodosius pressed forwards, to ter|minate

the war by the death or captivity of his rival, who fled before him with the diligence of fear. From the summit of the Julian Alps, he de|scended with such incredible speed into the plain of Italy, that he reached Aquileia on the evening of the first day; and Maximus, who found himself encompassed on all sides, had scarcely time to shut the gates of the city. But the gates could not long resist the effort of a victorious enemy; and the despair, the disaffection, the indifference of the soldiers and people, hastened the downfall of the wretched Maximus. He was dragged from his throne, rudely stripped of the Imperial orna|ments, the robe, the diadem, and the purple slippers; and conducted, like a malefactor, to the camp and presence of Theodosius, at a place about three miles from Aquileia. The behaviour of the emperor was not intended to insult, and he shewed some disposition to pity and forgive, the tyrant of the West, who had never been his per|sonal enemy, and was now become the object of his contempt. Our sympathy is the most forcibly excited by the misfortunes to which we are ex|posed; and the spectacle of a proud competitor, now prostrate at his feet, could not fail of pro|ducing very serious and solemn thoughts in the mind of the victorious emperor. But the feeble emotion of involuntary pity was checked by his regard for public justice, and the memory of Gra|tian; and he abandoned the victim to the pious zeal of the soldiers, who drew him out of the Im|perial presence, and instantly separated his head from his body. The intelligence of his defeat

and death was received with sincere, or well|dissembled, joy: his son Victor, on whom he had conferred the title of Augustus, died by the order, perhaps by the hand, of the bold Arbogastes; and all the military plans of Theodosius were successfully executed. When he had thus ter|minated the civil war, with less difficulty and bloodshed than he might naturally expect, he em|ployed the winter months of his residence at Milan, to restore the state of the afflicted pro|vinces; and early in the spring he made, after the example of Constantine and Constantius, his triumphal entry into the ancient capital of the Roman empire 77 1.101.

The orator, who may be silent without danger, * 1.102 may praise without difficulty, and without re|luctance 78 1.103; and posterity will confess, that the character of Theodosius 79 1.104 might furnish the sub|ject of a sincere and ample panegyric. The

wisdom of his laws, and the success of his arms, rendered his administration respectable in the eyes both of his subjects, and of his enemies. He loved and practised the virtues of domestic life, which seldom hold their residence in the palaces of kings. Theodosius was chaste and temperate: he enjoyed, without excess, the sensual and social pleasures of the table; and the warmth of his amorous passions was never diverted from their lawful objects. The proud titles of Imperial greatness were adorned by the tender names of a faithful husband, an indulgent father; his uncle was raised, by his affectionate esteem, to the rank of a second parent: Theodosius embraced, as his own, the children of his brother and sister; and the expressions of his regard were extended to the most distant and obscure branches of his nu|merous kindred. His familiar friends were ju|diciously selected from among those persons, who, in the equal intercourse of private life, had ap|peared before his eyes without a mask: the con|sciousness of personal and superior merit enabled him to despise the accidental distinction of the purple; and he proved by his conduct, that he had forgotten all the injuries, while he most grate|fully remembered all the favours and services, which he had received before he ascended the throne of the Roman empire. The serious, or lively, tone of his conversation, was adapted to the age, the rank, or the character, of his sub|jects whom he admitted into his society; and the affability of his manners displayed the image of his mind. Theodosius respected the simplicity of

the good and virtuous; every art, every talent, of an useful, or even of an innocent, nature, was rewarded by his judicious liberality; and, except the heretics, whom he persecuted with implacable hatred, the diffusive circle of his benevolence was circumscribed only by the limits of the human race. The government of a mighty empire may assuredly suffice to occupy the time, and the abi|lities, of a mortal: yet the diligent prince, with|out aspiring to the unsuitable reputation of pro|found learning, always reserved some moments of his leisure for the instructive amusement of read|ing. History, which enlarged his experience, was his favourite study. The annals of Rome, in the long period of eleven hundred years, pre|sented him with a various and splendid picture of human life; and it has been particularly observed, that whenever he perused the cruel acts of Cinna, of Marius, or of Sylla, he warmly expressed his generous detestation of those enemies of humanity and freedom. His disinterested opinion of past events was usefully applied as the rule of his own actions; and Theodosius has deserved the singular commendation, that his virtues always seemed to expand with his fortune: the season of his pro|sperity was that of his moderation; and his cle|mency appeared the most conspicuous after the danger and success of the civil war. The Moorish guards of the tyrant had been massacred in the first heat of the victory; and a small number of the most obnoxious criminals suffered the punish|ment of the law. But the emperor shewed him|self much more attentive to relieve the innocent,

than to chastise the guilty. The oppressed sub|jects of the West, who would have deemed them|selves happy in the restoration of their lands, were astonished to receive a sum of money equivalent to their losses; and the liberality of the conqueror supported the aged mother, and educated the orphan daughters, of Maximus 80 1.105. A character thus accomplished, might almost excuse the ex|travagant supposition of the orator Pacatus; that, if the elder Brutus could be permitted to revisit the earth, the stern republican would abjure, at the feet of Theodosius, his hatred of kings; and ingenuously confess, that such a monarch was the most faithful guardian of the happiness and dignity, of the Roman people 81 1.106.

Yet the piercing eye of the founder of the re|public must have discerned two essential imper|fections, * 1.107 which might, perhaps, have abated his recent love of despotism. The virtuous mind of Theodosius was often relaxed by indolence 82 1.108, and it was sometimes inflamed by passion 83 1.109. In the pursuit of an important object, his active courage

was capable of the most vigorous exertions; but, as soon as the design was accomplished, or the danger was surmounted, the hero sunk into in|glorious repose; and, forgetful that the time of a prince is the property of his people, resigned him|self to the enjoyment of the innocent, but trifling, pleasures of a luxurious court. The natural dis|position of Theodosius was hasty and choleric; and, in a station where none could resist, and few would dissuade, the fatal consequence of his re|sentment, the humane monarch was justly alarmed by the consciousness of his infirmity, and of his power. It was the constant study of his life to suppress, or regulate, the intemperate sallies of passion; and the success of his efforts enhanced the merit of his clemency. But the painful vir|tue which claims the merit of victory, is ex|posed to the danger of deseat; and the reign of a wise and merciful prince was polluted by an act of cruelty, which would stain the annals of Nero or Domitian. Within the space of three years, the inconsistent historian of Theodosius must relate the generous pardon of the citizens of Antioch, and the inhuman massacre of the people of Thessalonica.

The lively impatience of the inhabitants of An|tioch was never satisfied with their own situation, * 1.110 or with the character, and conduct, of their suc|cessive sovereigns. The Arian subjects of Theo|dosius deplored the loss of their churches; and, as three rival bishops, disputed the throne of An|tioch, the sentence which decided their pretensions

excited the murmurs of the two unsuccessful con|gregations. The exigencies of the Gothic war, and the inevitable expence that accompanied the conclusion of the peace, had constrained the em|peror to aggravate the weight of the public im|positions; and the provinces of Asia, as they had not been involved in the distress, were the less inclined to contribute to the relief, of Europe. The auspicious period now approached of the tenth year of his reign; a festival more grateful to the soldiers, who received a liberal donative, than to the subjects, whose voluntary offerings had been long since converted into an extraordinary and oppressive burthen. The edicts of taxation interrupted the repose, and pleasures, of Antioch; and the tribunal of the magistrate was besieged by a suppliant crowd; who, in pathetic, but, at first, in respectful, language, solicited the redress of their grievances. They were gradually incensed by the pride of their haughty rulers, who treated their complaints as a criminal resistance; their satirical wit degenerated into sharp and angry invectives; and, from the subordinate powers of government, the invectives of the people insensibly rose to attack the sacred character of the emperor himself. Their fury, provoked by a feeble opposition, discharged itself on the * 1.111 images of the Imperial family, which were erected, as objects of public veneration, in the most conspicuous places of the city. The statues of Theodosius, of his father, of his wife Flaccilla, of his two sons, Arcadius and Honorius, were

insolently thrown down from their pedestals, broken in pieces, or dragged with contempt through the streets: and the indignities which were offered to the representations of Imperial majesty, sufficiently declared the impious and treasonable wishes of the populace. The tumult was almost immediately suppressed by the arrival of a body of archers; and Antioch had leisure to reflect on the nature and consequences of her crime 84 1.112. According to the duty of his office, the governor of the province dispatched a faithful narrative of the whole transaction; while the trembling citizens intrusted the confession of their crime, and the assurance of their repentance, to the zeal of Flavian their bishop, and to the elo|quence of the senator Hilarius, the friend, and, most probably, the disciple, of Libanius; whose genius, on this melancholy occasion, was not use|less to his country 85 1.113. But the two capitals, An|tioch and Constantinople, were separated by the distance of eight hundred miles; and, notwith|standing the diligence of the Imperial posts, the guilty city was severely punished by a long and dreadful interval of suspence. Every rumour agitated the hopes and fears of the Antiochians; and they heard with terror, that their sovereign,

exasperated by the insult which had been offered to his own statues, and, more especially, to those of his beloved wife, had resolved to level with the ground the offending city; and to massacre, without distinction of age or sex, the criminal inhabitants 86 1.114; many of whom were actually driven, by their apprehensions, to seek a refuge in the mountains of Syria, and the adjacent desert. At length, twenty-four days after the sedition, the * 1.115 general Hellebicus, and Caesarius, master of the offices, declared the will of the emperor, and the sentence of Antioch. That proud capital was degraded from the rank of a city; and the metro|polis of the East, stripped of its lands, its privi|leges, and its revenues, was subjected, under the humiliating denomination of a village, to the ju|risdiction of Laodicea 87 1.116. The Baths, the Circus, and the theatres, were shut: and, that every source of plenty and pleasure might at the same time be intercepted, the distribution of corn was abolished, by the severe instructions of Theodosius. His commissioners then proceeded to inquire into the guilt of individuals; of those who had per|petrated, and of those who had not prevented, the destruction of the sacred statues. The tribunal of Hellebicus and Caesarius, encompassed with

armed soldiers, was erected in the midst of the Forum. The noblest, and most wealthy, of the citizens of Antioch, appeared before them in chains; the examination was assisted by the use of torture, and their sentence was pronounced or suspended, according to the judgment of these extraordinary magistrates. The houses of the cri|minals were exposed to sale, their wives and children were suddenly reduced, from affluence and luxury, to the most abject distress; and a bloody execution was expected to conclude the horrors of a day 88 1.117, which the preacher of An|tioch, the eloquent Chrysostom, has represented as a lively image of the last and universal judg|ment of the world. But the ministers of Theodo|sius performed, with reluctance, the cruel task which had been assigned them; they dropped a gentle tear over the calamities of the people; and they listened with reverence to the pressing solicitations of the monks and hermits, who de|scended in swarms from the mountains 89 1.118. Hel|lebicus and Caesarius were persuaded to suspend the execution of their sentence; and it was agreed, that the former should remain at Antioch, while the latter returned, with all possible speed, to Constantinople; and presumed once more to con|sult the will of his sovereign. The resentment of * 1.119

Theodosius had already subsided; the deputies of the people, both the bishop and the orator, had obtained a favourable audience; and the re|proaches of the emperor were the complaints of injured friendship, rather than the stern menaces of pride and power. A free and general pardon was granted to the city and citizens of Antioch; the prison-doors were thrown open; the senators, who despaired of their lives, recovered the pos|session of their houses and estates; and the capital of the East was restored to the enjoyment of her ancient dignity and splendour. Theodosius con|descended to praise the senate of Constantinople, who had generously interceded for their distressed brethren: he rewarded the eloquence of Hilarius with the government of Palestine; and dismissed the bishop of Antioch with the warmest expressions of his respect and gratitude. A thousand new statues arose to the clemency of Theodosius; the * 1.120 applause of his subjects was ratified by the appro|bation of his own heart; and the emperor con|fessed, that, if the exercise of justice is the most important duty, the indulgence of mercy is the most exquisite pleasure, of a sovereign 90 1.121.

The sedition of Thessalonica is ascribed to a * 1.122 more shameful cause, and was productive of much

more dreadful consequences. That great city, the metropolis of all the Illyrian provinces, had been protected from the dangers of the Gothic war by strong fortifications, and a numerous gar|rison. Botheric, the general of those troops, and, as it should seem from his name, a Barbarian, had among his slaves a beautiful boy, who excited the impure desires of one of the charioteers of the Circus. The insolent and brutal lover was thrown into prison by the order of Botheric; and he sternly rejected the importunate clamours of the multitude, who, on the day of the public games, lamented the absence of their favourite; and con|sidered the skill of a charioteer as an object of more importance than his virtue. The resent|ment of the people was embittered by some pre|vious disputes; and, as the strength of the gar|rison had been drawn away for the service of the Italian war, the feeble remnant, whose numbers were reduced by desertion, could not save the un|happy general from their licentious fury. Bo|theric, and several of his principal officers, were inhumanly murdered: their mangled bodies were dragged about the streets; and the emperor, who then resided at Milan, was surprised by the intel|ligence of the audacious and wanton cruelty of the people of Thessalonica. The sentence of a dis|passionate judge would have inflicted a severe punishment on the authors of the crime; and the merit of Botheric might contribute to exasperate the grief and indignation of his master. The fiery and choleric temper of Theodosius was im|patient of the dilatory forms of a judicial enquiry;

and he hastily resolved, that the blood of his lieu|tenant should be expiated by the blood of the guilty people. Yet his mind still fluctuated be|tween the counsels of clemency and of revenge; the zeal of the bishops had almost extorted from the reluctant emperor the promise of a general pardon; his passion was again inflamed by the flattering suggestions of his minister Rufinus; and, after Theodosius had dispatched the messen|gers of death, he attempted, when it was too late, to prevent the execution of his orders. The pu|nishment of a Roman city was blindly committed to the undistinguishing sword of the Barbarians; and the hostile preparations were concerted with the dark and perfidious artifice of an illegal con|spiracy. The people of Thessalonica were trea|cherously invited, in the name of their sovereign, to the games of the Circus: and such was their in|satiate avidity for those amusements, that every consideration of fear, or suspicion, was disre|guarded by the numerous spectators. As soon as the assembly was complete, the soldiers, who had secretly been posted round the circus, received the signal, not of the races, but of a general massacre. The promiscuous carnage continued three hours, without discrimination of strangers or natives, of age or sex, of innocence or guilt; the most mo|derate accounts state the number of the slain at seven thousand; and it is affirmed by some writers, that more than fifteen thousand victims were sacri|ficed to the manes of Botheric. A foreign mer|chant, who had probably no concern in his murder, offered his own life, and all his wealth, to sup|ply

the place of one of his two sons; but, while the father hesitated with equal tenderness, while he was doubtful to chuse, and unwilling to condemn, the soldiers determined his suspense, by plunging their daggers at the same moment into the breasts of the defenceless youths. The apology of the as|sassins, that they were obliged to produce the pre|scribed number of heads, serves only to increase, by an appearance of order and design, the horrors of the massacre, which was executed by the com|mands of Theodosius. The guilt of the emperor is aggravated by his long and frequent residence at Thessalonica. The situation of the unfortunate city, the aspect of the streets and buildings, the dress and faces of the inhabitants, were familiar, and even present, to his imagination; and Theo|dosius possessed a quick and lively sense of the existence of the people whom he destroyed 91 1.123.

The respectful attachment of the emperor for * 1.124 the orthodox clergy, had disposed him to love and admire the character of Ambrose; who united all the episcopal virtues in the most eminent de|gree. The friends and ministers of Theodosius imitated the example of their sovereign; and he observed, with more surprise than displeasure, that all his secret counsels were immediately com|municated

to the archbishop; who acted from the laudable persuasion, that every measure of civil government may have some connection with the glory of God, and the interest of the true religion. The monks and populace of Callinicum, an ob|scure town on the frontier of Persia, excited by their own fanaticism, and by that of their bishop, had tumultuously burnt a conventicle of the Va|lentinians, and a synagogue of the Jews. The seditious prelate was condemned, by the magi|strate of the province, either to rebuild the syna|gogue, or to repay the damage; and this mode|rate sentence was confirmed by the emperor. But it was not confirmed by the archbishop of Milan 92 1.125. He dictated an epistle of censure and reproach, more suitable, perhaps, if the emperor had re|ceived the mark of circumcision, and renounced the faith of his baptism. Ambrose considers the toleration of the Jewish, as the persecution of the Christian, religion; boldly declares, that he him|self, and every true believer, would eagerly dis|pute with the bishop of Callinicum the merit of the deed, and the crown of martyrdom; and la|ments, in the most pathetic terms, that the exe|cution of the sentence would be fatal to the fame and salvation of Theodosius. As this private admonition did not produce an immediate effect, the archbishop, from his pulpit 93 1.126, publicly ad|dressed

the emperor on his throne 94 1.127; nor would he consent to offer the oblation of the altar, till he had obtained from Theodosius a solemn and positive declaration, which secured the impunity of the bishop and monks of Callinicum. The recantation of Theodosius was sincere 95 1.128; and, during the term of his residence at Milan, his affection for Ambrose was continually increased by the habits of pious and familiar conversation.

When Ambrose was informed of the massacre * 1.129 of Thessalonica, his mind was filled with horror and anguish. He retired into the country to in|dulge his grief, and to avoid the presence of Theodosius. But as the archbishop was satisfied that a timid silence would render him the accom|plice of his guilt, he represented, in a private let|ter, the enormity of the crime; which could only be effaced by the tears of penitence. The epis|copal vigour of Ambrose was tempered by pru|dence; and he contented himself with signifying 96 1.130 an indirect sort of excommunication, by the assur|ance,

that he had been warned in a vision, not to offer the oblation in the name, or in the pre|sence, of Theodosius; and by the advice, that he would confine himself to the use of prayer, with|out presuming to approach the altar of Christ, or to receive the holy eucharist with those hands that were still polluted with the blood of an innocent people. The emperor was deeply affected by his own reproaches, and by those of his spiritual fa|ther; and, after he had bewailed the mischievous and irreparable consequences of his rash fury, he proceeded, in the accustomed manner, to perform his devotions in the great church of Milan. He was stopped in the porch by the archbishop; who, in the tone and language of an ambassador of Heaven, declared to his sovereign, that private contrition was not sufficient to atone for a public fault, or to appease the justice of the offended Deity. Theodosius humbly represented, that if he had contracted the guilt of homicide, David, the man after God's own heart, had been guilty, not only of murder, but of adultery.

"You have imitated David in his crime, imitate then his repentance,"

was the reply of the un|daunted Ambrose. The rigorous conditions of peace and pardon were accepted; and the public pennance of the emperor Theodosius has been re|corded as one of the most honourable events in the annals of the church. According to the mildest rules of ecclesiastical discipline, which were esta|blished in the fourth century, the crime of homi|cide was expiated by the penitence of twenty

years 97 1.131: and as it was impossible, in the period of human life, to purge the accumulated guilt of the massacre of Thessalonica, the murderer should have been excluded from the holy communion till the hour of his death. But the archbishop, con|sulting the maxims of religious policy, granted some indulgence to the rank of his illustrious pe|nitent, who humbled in the dust the pride of the diadem; and the public edification might be ad|mitted as a weighty reason to abridge the duration of his punishment. It was sufficient, that the emperor of the Romans, stripped of the ensigns of royalty, should appear in a mournful and sup|pliant posture; and that, in the midst of the church of Milan, he should humbly solicit, with sighs and tears, the pardon of his sins 98 1.132. In this spiritual cure, Ambrose employed the various methods of mildness and severity. After a delay of about eight months, Theodosius was restored to the communion of the faithful; and the edict, which interposes a salutary interval of thirty days between the sentence and the execution, may be

accepted as the worthy fruits of his repentance 99 1.133. Posterity has applauded the virtuous firmness of the archbishop: and the example of Theodosius may prove the beneficial influence of those prin|ciples, which could force a monarch, exalted above the apprehension of human punishment, to respect the laws, and ministers, of an invisible Judge.

"The prince," says Montesquieu, "who is actuated by the hopes and fears of religion, may be compared to a lion, docile only to the voice, and tractable to the hand, of his keeper 100 1.134."

The motions of the royal animal will therefore depend on the inclination, and in|terest, of the man who has acquired such danger|ous authority over him; and the priest, who holds in his hand the conscience of a king, may inflame, or moderate, his sanguinary passions. The cause of humanity, and that of persecution, have been asserted, by the same Ambrose, with equal energy, and with equal success.

After the defeat and death of the tyrant of * 1.135 Gaul, the Roman world was in the possession of Theodosius. He derived from the choice of Gratian his honourable title to the provinces of the East: he had acquired the West by the right of conquest; and the three years, which he spent in Italy, were usefully employed to restore the

authority of the laws; and to correct the abuses, which had prevailed with impunity under the usurpation of Maximus, and the minority of Va|lentinian. The name of Valentinian was regularly inserted in the public acts: but the tender age, and doubtful faith, of the son of Justina, appeared to require the prudent care of an orthodox guardian; and his specious ambition might have excluded the unfortunate youth, without a struggle, and almost without a murmur, from the admini|stration, and even from the inheritance, of the empire. If Theodosius had consulted the rigid maxims of interest and policy, his conduct would have been justified by his friends; but the gene|rosity of his behaviour on this memorable occasion has extorted the applause of his most inveterate enemies. He seated Valentinian on the throne of Milan; and, without stipulating any present or future advantages, restored him to the absolute dominion of all the provinces from which he had been driven by the arms of Maximus. To the restitution of his ample patrimony, Theodosius added the free and generous gift of the countries beyond the Alps, which his successful valour had recovered from the assassin of Gratian 101 1.136. Satis|fied with the glory which he had acquired, by re|venging the death of his benefactor, and deliver|ing the West from the yoke of tyranny, the em|peror returned from Milan to Constantinople;

and, in the peaceful possession of the East, in|sensibly relapsed into his former habits of luxury and indolence. Theodosius discharged his obli|gation to the brother, he indulged his conjugal tenderness to the sister, of Valentinian: and poste|rity, which admires the pure and singular glory of his elevation, must applaud his unrivalled generosity in the use of victory.

The empress Justina did not long survive her return to Italy; and, though she beheld the * 1.137 triumph of Theodosius, she was not allowed to influence the government of her son 102 1.138. The pernicious attachment to the Arian sect, which Valentinian had imbibed from her example and instructions, were soon erased by the lessons of a more orthodox education. His growing zeal for the faith of Nice, and his filial reverence for the character, and authority, of Ambrose, disposed the Catholics to entertain the most favourable opinion of the virtues of the young emperor of the West 103 1.139. They applauded his chastity and tem|perance, his contempt of pleasure, his application to business, and his tender affection for his two sisters; which could not, however, seduce his impartial equity to pronounce an unjust sentence against the meanest of his subjects. But this amiable youth, before he had accomplished the

twentieth year of his age, was oppressed by do|mestic treason; and the empire was again involved in the horrors of a civil war. Arbogastes 104 1.140, a gallant soldier of the nation of the Franks, held the second rank in the service of Gratian. On the death of his master, he joined the standard of Theodosius; contributed, by his valour and mili|tary conduct, to the destruction of the tyrant; and was appointed, after the victory, master|general of the armies of Gaul. His real merit, and apparent fidelity, had gained the confidence both of the prince and people; his boundless liberality corrupted the allegiance of the troops; and, whilst he was universally esteemed as the pillar of the state, the bold and crafty Barbarian was secretly determined, either to rule, or to ruin, the empire of the West. The important commands of the army were distributed among the Franks; the creatures of Arbogastes were promoted to all the honours and offices of the civil government; the progress of the conspiracy removed every faithful servant from the presence of Valentinian; and the emperor, without power, and without intelligence, insensibly sunk into the precarious and dependent condition of a cap|tive 105 1.141. The indignation which he expressed, though it might arise only from the rash and im|patient temper of youth, may be candidly ascribed

to the generous spirit of a prince, who felt that he was not unworthy to reign. He secretly invited the archbishop of Milan to undertake the office of a mediator; as the pledge of his sincerity, and the guardian of his safety. He contrived to ap|prise the emperor of the East of his helpless situa|tion; and he declared, that, unless Theodosius could speedily march to his assistance, he must attempt to escape from the palace, or rather prison, of Vienna in Gaul, where he had imprudently fixed his residence in the midst of the hostile faction. But the hopes of relief were distant, and doubt|ful; and, as every day furnished some new pro|vocation, the emperor, without strength or coun|sel, too hastily resolved to risk an immediate con|test with his powerful general. He received Arbogastes on the throne; and, as the count approached with some appearance of respect, de|livered to him a paper, which dismissed him from all his employments.

"My authority" replied Arbogastes with insulting coolness, "does not depend on the smile, or the frown, of a mo|narch;"

and he contemptuously threw the paper on the ground. The indignant monarch snatched at the sword of one of the guards, which he struggled to draw from its scabbard; and it was not without some degree of violence that he was prevented from using the deadly weapon against his enemy, or against himself. A few days after this extraordinary quarrel, in which he had ex|posed * 1.142 his resentment and his weakness, the un|fortunate Valentinian was found strangled in his apartment; and some pains were employed to dis|guise

the manifest guilt of Arbogastes, and to persuade the world, that the death of the young emperor had been the voluntary effect of his own despair 106 1.143. His body was conducted with decent pomp to the sepulchre of Milan; and the arch|bishop pronounced a funeral oration to com|memorate his virtue, and his misfortunes 107 1.144. On this occasion, the humanity of Ambrose tempted him to make a singular breach in his theological system; and to comfort the weeping sisters of Va|lentinian, by the firm assurance, that their pious brother, though he had not received the sacra|ment of baptism, was introduced, without diffi|culty, into the mansions of eternal bliss 108 1.145.

The prudence of Arbogastes had prepared the success of his ambitious designs: and the pro|vincials, * 1.146 in whose breasts every sentiment of patriotism or loyalty were extinguished, expected, with tame resignation, the unknown master, whom the choice of a Frank might place on the Impe|rial throne. But some remains of pride and pre|judice still opposed the elevation of Arbogastes himself; and the judicious Barbarian thought it

more advisable to reign under the name of some dependent Roman. He bestowed the purple on the rhetorician Eugenius 109 1.147; whom he had al|ready raised from the place of his domestic secre|tary, to the rank of master of the offices. In the course both of his private and public service, the count had always approved the attachment and abilities of Eugenius; his learning and eloquence, supported by the gravity of his manners, recom|mended him to the esteem of the people; and the reluctance, with which he seemed to ascend the throne, may inspire a favourable prejudice of his virtue and moderation. The ambassadors of the new emperor were immediately dispatched to the court of Theodosius, to communicate, with af|fected grief, the unfortunate accident of the death of Valentinian; and, without mentioning the name of Arbogastes, to request, that the monarch of the East would embrace, as his lawful colleague, the respectable citizen, who had obtained the un|animous suffrage of the armies and provinces of the West 110 1.148. Theodosius was justly provoked, that the perfidy of a Barbarian should have de|stroyed, in a moment, the labours, and the fruit, of his former victory; and he was excited by the

tears of his beloved wife 111 1.149, to revenge the fate of her unhappy brother, and once more to assert by arms the violated majesty of the throne. But as the second conquest of the West was a task of difficulty and danger, he dismissed, with splendid presents, and an ambiguous answer, the ambassa|dors of Eugenius; and almost two years were con|sumed in the preparations of the civil war. Be|fore * 1.150 he formed any decisive resolution, the pious emperor was anxious to discover the will of heave; and as the progress of Christianity had silenced the oracles of Delphi and Dodona, he consulted an Egyptian monk, who possessed, in the opinion of the age, the gift of miracles, and the knowledge of futurity. Eutropius, one of the favourite eunuchs of the palace of Constantinople, embarked for Alexandria, from whence he sailed up the Nile as far as the city of Lycopolis, or of Wolves, in the remote pro|vince of Thebais 112 1.151. In the neighbourhood of that city, and on the summit of a lofty moun|tain, the holy John 113 1.152 had constructed, with his

own hands, an humble cell, in which he had dwelt above fifty years, without opening his door, without seeing the face of a woman, and without tasting any food that had been prepared by fire, or any human art. Five days of the week he spent in prayer and meditation; but on Satur|days and Sundays he regularly opened a small window, and gave audience to the crowd of sup|pliants, who successively flowed from every part of the Christian world. The eunuch of Theodo|sius approached the window with respectful steps, proposed his questions concerning the event of the civil war, and soon returned with a favourable oracle, which animated the courage of the em|peror by the assurance of a bloody, but infallible, victory 114 1.153. The accomplishment of the prediction was forwarded by all the means that human pru|dence could supply. The industry of the two master-generals, Stilicho and Timasius, was di|rected to recruit the numbers, and to revive the discipline, of the Roman legions. The formid|able troops of Barbarians marched under the ensigns of their national chieftains. The Iberian, the Arab, and the Goth, who gazed on each other with mutual astonishment, were enlisted in the service of the same prince; and the renowned Alaric acquired, in the school of Theodosius, the knowledge of the art of war, which he after|wards

so fatally exerted for the destruction of Rome 115 1.154.

The Emperor of the West, or, to speak more * 1.155 properly, his general Arbogastes, was instructed by the misconduct and misfortune of Maximus, how dangerous it might prove to extend the line of defence against a skilful antagonist, who was free to press, or to suspend, to contract, or to multiply, his various methods of attack 116 1.156. Ar|bogastes fixed his station on the confines of Italy: the troops of Theodosius were permitted to oc|cupy, without resistance, the provinces of Pan|nonia, as far as the foot of the Julian Alps; and even the passages of the mountains were ne|gligently, or perhaps artfully, abandoned, to the bold invader. He descended from the hills, and beheld, with some astonishment, the formidable camp of the Gauls and Germans, that covered with arms and tents the open country, which ex|tends to the walls of Aquileia, and the banks of

the Frigidus 117 1.157, or Cold River 118 1.158. This narrow theatre of the war, circumscribed by the Alps and the Hadriatic, did not allow much room for the operations of military skill; the spirit of Ar|bogastes would have disdained a pardon; his guilt extinguished the hope of a negociation: and Theodosius was impatient to satisfy his glory and revenge, by the chastisement of the assassins of Valentinian. Without weighing the natural and artificial obstacles that opposed his efforts, the emperor of the East immediately attacked the fortifications of his rivals, assigned the post of honourable danger to the Goths, and cherished a secret wish, that the bloody conflict might di|minish the pride and numbers of the conquerors. Ten thousand of those auxiliaries, and Bacurius, general of the Iberians, died bravely on the field of battle. But the victory was not purchased by their blood: the Gauls maintained their advan|tage; and the approach of night protected the disorderly flight, or retreat, of the troops of Theodosius. The emperor retired to the ad|jacent hills; where he passed a disconsolate night, without sleep, without provisions, and without

hopes 119 1.159; except that strong assurance, which, under the most desperate circumstances, the in|dependent mind may derive from the contempt of fortune and of life. The triumph of Eugenius was celebrated by the insolent and dissolute joy of his camp; whilst the active and vigilant Ar|bogastes secretly detached a considerable body of troops to occupy the passes of the mountains, and to encompass the rear of the Eastern army. The dawn of day discovered to the eyes of Theodosius the extent and the extremity of his danger: but his apprehensions were soon dispelled, by a friendly message from the leaders of those troops, who expressed their inclination to desert the stand|ard of the tyrant. The honourable and lucra|tive rewards, which they stipulated as the price of their perfidy, were granted without hesitation; and as ink and paper could not easily be procured, the emperor subscribed, on his own tablets, the ratification of the treaty. The spirit of his sol|diers was revived by this seasonable reinforce|ment: and they again marched, with confidence, to surprise the camp of a tyrant, whose principal officers appeared to distrust, either the justice, or the success, of his arms. In the heat of the bat|tle, a violent tempest 120 1.160, such as is often felt

among the Alps, suddenly arose from the East. The army of Theodosius was sheltered by their position from the impetuosity of the wind, which blew a cloud of dust in the faces of the enemy, disordered their ranks, wrested their weapons from their hands, and diverted, or repelled, their ineffectual javelins. This accidental advantage was skilfully improved; the violence of the storm was magnified by the superstitious terrors of the Gauls; and they yielded without shame to the invisible powers of heaven, who seemed to mili|tate on the side of the pious emperor. His vic|tory was decisive; and the deaths of his two rivals were distinguished only by the difference of their characters. The rhetorician Eugenius, who had almost acquired the dominion of the world, was reduced to implore the mercy of the conqueror; and the unrelenting soldiers separated his head from his body, as he lay prostrate at the feet of Theodosius. Arbogastes, after the loss of a bat|tle, in which he had discharged the duties of a soldier and a general, wandered several days among the mountains. But when he was con|vinced, that his cause was desperate, and his escape impracticable, the intrepid Barbarian imi|tated the example of the ancient Romans, and

turned his sword against his own breast. The fate of the empire was determined in a narrow corner of Italy; and the legitimate successor of the house of Valentinian embraced the archbishop of Milan, and graciously received the submission of the provinces of the West. Those provinces were involved in the guilt of rebellion; while the inflexible courage of Ambrose alone had resisted the claims of successful usurpation. With a manly freedom, which might have been fatal to any other subject, the archbishop rejected the gifts of Eugenius, declined his correspondence, and withdrew himself from Milan, to avoid the odious presence of a tyrant; whose downfal he predicted in disoreet and ambiguous language. The merit of Ambrose was applauded by the conqueror, who secured the attachment of the people by his alliance with the church: and the clemency of Theodosius is ascribed to the humane intercession of the archbishop of Milan 121 1.161.

After the defeat of Eugenius, the merit, as well as the authority, of Theodosius was cheer|fully * 1.162 acknowledged by all the inhabitants of the Roman world. The experience of his past con|duct encouraged the most pleasing expectations of his future reign; and the age of the emperor, which did not exceed fifty years, seemed to extend the prospect of the public felicity. His

death, only four months after his victory, was considered by the people as an unforeseen and fatal event, which destroyed, in a moment, the hopes of the rising generation. But the in|dulgence of ease and luxury had secretly nourish|ed the principles of disease 122 1.163. The strength of Theodosius was unable to support the sudden and violent transition from the palace to the camp; and the increasing symptoms of a dropsy an|nounced the speedy dissolution of the emperor. The opinion, and perhaps the interest, of the public had confirmed the division of the Eastern and Western empires; and the two royal youths, Arcadius and Honorius, who had already ob|tained, from the tenderness of their father, the title of Augustus, were destined to fill the thrones of Constantinople and of Rome. Those princes were not permitted to share the danger and glory of the civil war 123 1.164; but as soon as Theodosius had triumphed over his unworthy rivals, he called his younger son, Honorius, to enjoy the fruits of the victory, and to receive the sceptre of the West from the hands of his dying father. The arrival of Honorius at Milan was welcomed by a splendid exhibition of the games of the Circus;

and the emperor, through he was oppressed by the weight of his disorder, contributed by his pre|sence to the public joy. But the remains of his strength were exhausted by the painful effort, which he made, to assist at the spectacles of the morning. Honorius supplied, during the rest of the day, the place of his father; and the great Theodosius expired in the ensuing night. Not|withstanding the recent animosities of a civil war, his death was universally lamented. The Bar|barians, whom he had vanquished, and the churchmen, by whom he had been subdued, ce|lebrated, with loud and sincere applause, the qualities of the deceased emperor, which ap|peared the most valuable in their eyes. The Ro|mans were terrified by the impending dangers of a feeble and divided administration; and every disgraceful moment of the unfortunate reigns of Arcadius and Honorius revived the memory of their irreparable loss.

In the faithful picture of the virtues of Theo|dosius, * 1.165 his imperfections have not been dissem|bled; the act of cruelty, and the habits of in|dolence, which tarnished the glory of one of the greatest of the Roman princes. An historian, perpetually adverse to the fame of Theodosius, has exaggerated his vices, and their pernicious effects; he boldly asserts, that every rank of sub|jects imitated the effeminate manners of their sovereign; that every species of corruption pol|luted the course of public and private life; and that the feeble restraints of order and decency were insufficient to resist the progress of that de|generate

spirit, which sacrifices, without a blush the consideration of duty and interest to the base indulgence of sloth and appetite 124 1.166. The com|plaints of contemporary writers, who deplore the increase of luxury, and depravation of manners, are commonly expressive of their peculiar temper and situation. There are few observers, who possess a clear and comprehensive view of the re|volutions of society; and who are capable of discovering the nice and secret springs of action, which impel, in the same uniform direction, the blind and capricious passions of a multitude of individuals. If it can be affirmed, with any de|gree of truth, that the luxury of the Romans was more shameless and dissolute in the reign of Theo|dosius than in the age of Constantine, perhaps, or of Augustus, the alteration cannot be ascribed to any beneficial improvements, which had gra|dually increased the stock of national riches. A long period of calamity or decay must have checked the industry, and diminished the wealth, of the people; and their profuse luxury must have been the result of that indolent despair, which enjoys the present hour, and declines the thoughts of futurity. The uncertain condition of their property discouraged the subjects of Theodosius from engaging in those useful and laborious undertakings which require an im|mediate expence, and promise a slow and distant advantage. The frequent examples of ruin and desolation tempted them not to spare the remains

of a patrimony, which might, every hour, be|come the prey of the rapacious Goth. And the mad prodigality which prevails in the confusion of a shipwreck, or a siege, may serve to explain the progress of luxury amidst the misfortunes and terrors of a sinking nation.

The effeminate luxury, which infected the * 1.167 manners of courts and cities, had instilled a secret and destructive poison into the camps of the legions: and their degeneracy has been marked by the pen of a military writer, who had accurate|ly studied the genuine and ancient principles of Roman discipline. It is the just and important observation of Vegetius, that the infantry was invariably covered with defensive armour, from the foundation of the city, to the reign of the emperor Gratian. The relaxation of discipline, and the disuse of exercise, rendered the soldiers less able, and less willing, to support the fatigues of the service; they complained of the weight of the armour, which they seldom wore; and they successively obtained the permission of laying aside both their cuirasses and their helmets. The heavy weapons of their ancestors, the short sword, and the formidable pilum, which had subdued the world, insensibly dropped from their feeble hands. As the use of the shield is incompatible with that of the bow, they reluctantly marched into the field; condemned to suffer, either the pain of wounds, or the ignominy of flight, and always disposed to prefer the more shameful alternative. The cavalry of the Goths, the Huns, and the Alani, had felt the benefits, and adopted the use,

of defensive armour; and, as they excelled in the management of missile weapons, they easily overwhelmed the naked and trembling legions, whose heads and breasts were exposed, without defence, to the arrows of the Barbarians. The loss of armies, the destruction of cities, and the dishonour of the Roman name, ineffectually soli|cited the successors of Gratian to restore the hel|mets and cuirasses of the infantry. The enervated soldiers abandoned their own, and the public, defence; and their pusillanimous indolence may be considered as the immediate cause of the down|fal of the empire 125 1.168.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Character and con|duct of the emperor Gratian. A. D. 379—383.
• * 1.2

  His de|fects.
• 1 1.3

  Valentinian was less attentive to the religion of his son; since he entrusted the education of Gratian to Ausonius, a professed Pagan (Mem. de l'Academie des Inscriptions, tom. xv. p. 125—138.). The poetical fame of Ausonius condemns the taste of his age.
• 2 1.4

  Ausonius was successively promoted to the Praetorian praefecture of Italy (A. D. 377.), and of Gaul (A. D. 378.); and was at length invested with the consulship (A. D. 379.). He expressed his gratitude in a servile and insipid piece of flattery (Actio Gratiarum, p. 699—736.), which has survived more worthy productions.
• 3 1.5

  Disputare de principali judicio non oportet. Sacrilegii enim in|star est dubitare, an is dignus sit, quem elegerit imperator. Codex Justinian. l. ix. tit. xxix. leg. 3. This convenient law was revived and promulgated, after the death of Gratian, by the feeble court of Milan.
• 4 1.6

  Ambrose composed, for his instruction, a theological treatise on the faith of the Trinity: and Tillemont (Hist. des Empereurs, tom. v. p. 158. 169.) ascribes to the archbishop the merit of Gratian's intolerant laws.
• 5 1.7

  Qui divinae legis sanctitatem, nesciendo omittunt, aut negli|gendo violant, et offendunt, sacrilegium committunt. Codex Justi|nian. l. ix. tit. xxix. leg. 1. Theodosius indeed may claim his share, in the merit of this comprehensive law.
• 6 1.8

  Ammianus (xxxi. 10.) and the younger Victor acknowledge the virtues of Gratian; and accuse, or rather lament, his degenerate taste.

  The odious parallel of Commodus is saved by "licet incru|entus;" and perhaps Philostorgius (l. x. c. 10. and Godefroy, p. 412.) had guarded, with some similar reserve, the comparison of Nero.
• * 1.9

  Discontent of the Roman troops. A. D. 383.
• 7 1.10

  Zosimus (l. iv. p. 247.) and the younger Victor ascribe the re|volution to the favour of the Alani, and the discontent of the Roman troops. Dum exercitum negligeret, et paucos ex Alanis, quos in|genti auro ad se transtulerat, anteferret veteri ac Romano militi.
• 8 1.11

  Britannia fertilis provincia tyrannorum, is a memorable expres|sion, used by Jerom in the Pelagian controversy, and variously tor|tured in the disputes of our national antiquaries. The revolutions of the last age appeared to justify the image of the sublime Bossuet, "cette isle, plus orageuse que les mers qui l'environment."
• 9 1.12

  Zosimus says of the British soldiers, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 1.13

  Revolt of Maximus in Britain.
• 10 1.14

  Helena the daughter of Eudda. Her chapel may still be seen at Caer-segont, now Caer-narvon (Carte's Hist. of England, vol. i. p. 168. from Rowland's Mona Antiqua). The prudent reader may not perhaps be satisfied with such Welch evidence.
• 11 1.15

  Cambden (vol. i. introduct. p. ci:) appoints him governor of Britain; and the father of our antiquities is followed, as usual, by his blind progeny. Pacatus and Zosimus had taken some pains to prevent this error, or fable; and I shall protect myself by their de|cisive testimonies. Regali habitû exulem suum, illi exules orbis in|duerunt (in Panegyr. Vet. xii. 23.), and the Greek historian, still less equivocally, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (Maximus) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (l. iv. p. 248.).
• 12 1.16

  Sulpicius Severus, Dialog. ii. 7. Orosius, l. vii. c. 34. p. 556. They both acknowledge (Sulpicius had been his subject) his inno|cence and merit. It is singular enough, that Maximus should be less favourably treated by Zosimus, the partial adversary of his rival.
• * 1.17

  Flight and death of Gratian.
• 13 1.18

  Archbishop Usher (Antiquitat. Britan. Eccles. p. 107, 108.) has diligently collected the legends of the island, and the continent. The whole emigration consisted of 30,000 soldiers, and 100,000 plebeians, who settled in Bretagne. Their destined brides, St. Ur|sula with 11,000 noble, and 60,000 plebeian, virgins, mistook their way; landed at Cologne, and were all most cruelly murdered by the Huns. But the plebeian sisters have been defrauded of their equal honours; and, what is still harder, John Trithemius presumes to mention the children of these British virgins.
• * 1.19

  A. D. 383, Aug. 25.
• 14 1.20

  Zosimus (l. iv. p. 248, 249.) has transported the death of Gra|tian from Lugdunum in Gaul (Lyons) to Singidunum in Moesia. Some hints may be extracted from the Chronicles; some lies may be detected in Sozomen (l. vii. c. 13.) and Socrates (l. v. c. 11.). Ambrose is our most authentic evidence (tom. i. Enarrat. in Psalm lxi. p. 961. tom. ii. epist. xxiv. p. 888, &c. and de Obitû Valen|tinian. Consolat. No 28. p. 1182.).
• 15 1.21

  Pacatus (xii. 28.) celebrates his sidelity; while his treachery is marked in Prosper's Chronicle, as the cause of the ruin of Gra|tian. Ambrose, who has occasion to exculpate himself, only con|demns the death of Vallio, a faithful servant of Gratian (tom. ii. epist. xxiv. p. 891. edit. Benedict.).
• 16 1.22

  He protested, nullum ex adversariis nisi in acie occubuisse. Sulp. Severus in Vit. B. Martin. c. 23. The orator of Theodosius bestows reluctant, and therefore weighty, praise on his clemency. Si cui ille, pro ceteris sceleribus suis, minus crudelis fuisse videtur (Panegyr. Vet. xii. 28.).
• * 1.23

  Treaty of peace be|tween Maximus and Theo|dosius, A. D. 383—387.
• 17 1.24

  Ambrose mentions the laws of Gratian, quas non abrogavit hostis (tom. ii. epist. xvii. p. 827.).
• 18 1.25

  Zosimus, l. iv. p. 251, 252. We may disclaim his odious suspicions; but we cannot reject the treaty of peace, which the friends of Theodosius have absolutely forgotten, or slightly mentioned.
• * 1.26

  Baptism and ortho|dox edicts of Theo|dosius, A. D. 380, Feb. 28.
• 19 1.27

  Their oracle, the archbishop of Milan, assigns to his pupil Gratian an high and respectable place in heaven (tom. ii. de Obit. Val. Consol. p. 1193.).
• 20 1.28

  For the baptism of Theodosius, see Sozomen (l. vii. c. 4.), Socrates (l. v. c. 6.), and Tillemont (Hist. des Empereurs, tom. v. p. 728.).
• 21 1.29

  Ascolius, or Acholius, was honoured by the friendship, and the praises, of Ambrose; who styles him, murus fidei atque sancti|tatis (tom. ii. epist. xv. p. 820.); and afterwards celebrates his speed and diligence in running to Constantinople, Italy, &c. (epist. xvi. p. 822.) a virtue which does not appertain either to a wall, or a bishop.
• 22 1.30

  Codex Theodos. l. xvi. tit. i. leg. 2. with Godefroy's Com|mentary, tom. vi. p. 5—9. Such an edict deserved the warmest praises of Baronius, auream sanctionem, edictum pium et salutare.—Sic itur ad astra.
• 23 1.31

  Sozomen, l. vii. c. 6. Theodoret, l. v. c. 16. Tillemont is displeased (Mem. Eccles. tom. vi. p. 627, 628.) with the terms of "rustic bishop," "obscure city." Yet I must take leave to think, that both Amphilochius and Iconium were objects of inconsiderable magnitude in the Roman empire.
• 24 1.32

  Sozomen, l. vii. c. 5. Socrates, l. v. c. 7. Marcellin. in Chron. The account of forty years must be dated from the election or intrusion of Eusebius; who wisely exchanged the bishopric of Nicomedia for the throne of Constantinople.
• * 1.33

  Arianism of Con|stanti|nople, A. D. 340—380.
• 25 1.34

  See Jortin's Remarks on Ecclesiastical History, vol. iv. p. 71. The thirty-third Oration of Gregory Nazianzen affords indeed some similar ideas, even some still more ridiculous; but I have not yet found the words of this remarkable passage; which I allege on the faith of a correct and liberal scholar.
• 26 1.35

  See the thirty-second Oration of Gregory Nazianzen, and the account of his own life, which he has composed in 1800 iambics. Yet every physician is prone to exaggerate the inveterate nature of the disease which he has cured.
• 27 1.36

  I confess myself deeply indebted to the two lives of Gregory Nazianzen, composed, with very different views, by Tillemont (Mem. Eccles. tom. ix. p. 305—560, 692—731.), and Le Clerc (Bibliotheque Universelle, tom. xviii. p. 1—128.).
• * 1.37

  Gregory Nazian|zen
• 28 1.38

  Unless Gregory Nazianzen mistook thirty years in his own age, he was born, as well as his friend Basil, about the year 329. The preposterous chronology of Suidas has been graciously received; because it removes the scandal of Gregory's father, a saint likewise, begetting children, after he became a bishop (Tillemont, Mem. Eccles. tom. ix. p. 693—697.).
• 29 1.39

  Gregory's Poem on his own Life contains some beautiful lines (tom. ii. p. 8.), which burst from the heart, and speak the pangs of injured and lost friendship:

  . . . . . . . . . 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . . . . . . 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

  In the Midsummer Night's Dream, Helenia addresses the same pathetic complaint to her friend Hermia:

  Is all the counsel that we two have shared, The sister's vows, &c.

  Shakespeare had never read the poems of Gregory Nazianzen: he was ignorant of the Greek language; but his mother-tongue, the language of Nature, is the same in Cappadocia and in Britain.
• 30 1.40

  This unfavourable portrait of Sasima is drawn by Gregory Nazianzen (tom. ii. de Vitâ suâ, p. 7, 8.). Its precise situation, forty-nine miles from Archilais, and thirty-two from Tyana, is fixed in the Itinerary of Antoninus (p. 144. edit. Wesseling.).
• 31 1.41

  The name of Nazianzus has been immortalised by Gregory; but his native town, under the Greek or Roman title of Diocaesarea (Tillemont, Mem. Eccles. tom. ix. p. 692.), is mentioned by Pliny (vi. 3.), Ptolemy, and Hierocles (Itinerar. Wesseling, p. 709.). It appears to have been situate on the edge of Isauria.
• * 1.42

  accepts the mission of Constan|tinople, A. D. 378, November.
• 32 1.43

  See Ducange, Constant. Christiana, l. iv. p. 141, 142. The 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 of Sozomen (l. vii. c. 5.) is interpreted to mean the Vir|gin Mary.
• 33 1.44

  Tillemont (Mem. Eccles. tom. ix. p. 432, &c.) diligently collects, enlarges, and explains, the oratorical and poetical hints of Gregory himself.
• 34 1.45

  He pronounced an oration (tom. i. Orat. xxiii. p. 409.) in his praise; but after their quarrel, the name of Maximus was changed into that of Heron (see Jerom, tom. i. in Catalog. Script. Eccles. p. 301.). I touch slightly on these obscure and personal squabbles.
• 35 1.46

  Under the modest emblem of a dream, Gregory (tom. ii. carmen ix. p. 78.) describes his own success with some human com|placency. Yet it should seem, from his familiar conversation with his auditor St. Jerom (tom. i. Epist. ad Nepotian. p. 14.), that the preacher understood the true value of popular applause.
• 36 1.47

  Lachrymae auditorum laudes tuae sint, is the lively and judici|ous advice of St. Jerom.
• * 1.48

  Ruin of Arianism at Con|stanti|nople, A. D. 380. Nov. 26.
• 37 1.49

  Socrates (l. v. c. 7.) and Sozomen (l. vii. c. 5.) relate the evan|gelical words and actions of Damophilus without a word of approba|tion. He considered, says Socrates, that it is difficult to resist the powerful: but it was easy, and would have been profitable, to submit.
• 38 1.50

  See Gregory Nazianzen, tom. ii. de Vitâ suâ, p. 21, 22. For the sake of posterity, the bishop of Constantinople records a stupen|dous prodigy. In the month of November, it was a cloudy morning; but the sun broke forth, when the procession entered the church.
• * 1.51

  In the East. A. D. 381. Jan. 10.
• 39 1.52

  Of the three ecclesiastical historians, Theodoret alone (l. v. c. 2.) has mentioned this important commission of Sapor, which Tillemont (Hist. des Empereurs, tom. v. p. 728.) judiciously re|moves, from the reign of Gratian, to that of Theodosius.
• 40 1.53

  I do not reckon Philostorgius, though he mentions (l. ix. c. 19.) the expulsion of Damophilus. The Eunomian historian has been carefully strained through an orthodox sieve.
• * 1.54

  The coun|cil of Con|stanti|nople, A. D. 381, May.
• 41 1.55

  Le Clerc has given a curious extract (Bibliothéque Universelle, tom. xviii. p. 91—105.) of the theological sermons which Gregory Nazianzen pronounced at Constantinople against the Arians, Euno|mians, Macedonians, &c. He tells the Macedonians, who deified the Father and the Son, without the Holy Ghost, that they might as well be stiled Tritheists, as Ditheists. Gregory himself was almost a Tritheist; and his monarchy of heaven resembles a well-regulated aristocracy.
• 42 1.56

  The first general council of Constantinople now triumphs in the Vatican: but the popes had long hesitated, and their hesitation perplexes, and almost staggers, the humble Tillemont (Mem. Eccles. tom. ix. p. 499, 500.).
• 43 1.57

  Before the death of Meletius, six or eight of his most popular ecclesiastics, among whom was Flavian, had abjured, for the sake of peace, the bishopric of Antioch (Sozomen, l. vii. c. 3. 11. Socrates, l. v. c. 5.). Tillemont thinks it his duty to disbelieve the story; but he owns that there are many circumstances in the life of Flavian, which seem inconsistent with the praises of Chrysostom, and the cha|racter of a saint (Mem. Eccles. tom. x. p. 541.).
• 44 1.58

  Consult Gregory Nazianzen, de Vitâ suâ, tom. ii. p. 25—28. His general and particular opinion of the clergy and their assemblies, may be seen in verse and prose (tom. i. orat. i. p. 33. epist. lv. p. 814. tom. ii. carmen x. p. 81.). Such passages are faintly marked by Tillemont, and fairly produced by Le Clerc.
• * 1.59

  Retreat of Gregory Nazian|zen, A. D. 381.
• 45 1.60

  See Gregory, tom. ii. de Vitâ suâ, p. 28—31. The fourteenth, twenty-seventh, and thirty-second orations were pronounced in the several stages of this business. The peroration of the last (tom. i. p. 528.), in which he takes a solemn leave of men and angels, the city and the emperor, the East and the West, &c. is pathetic, and almost sublime.
• 46 1.61

  The whimsical ordination of Nectarius is attested by Sozomen (l. vii. c. 8.); but Tillemont observes (Mem. Eccles. tom. ix. p. 719.), Après tout, ce narré de Sozomene est si honteux pour tous ceux qu'il y mele, et surtout pour Theodose, qu'il vaut mieux tra|vailler à le detruire, qu'à le soutenir; an admirable canon of criti|cism!
• 47 1.62

  I can only be understood to mean, that such was his natural temper; when it was not hardened, or inflamed, by religious zeal. From his retirement, he exhorts Nectarius to prosecute the heretics of Constantinople.
• * 1.63

  Edicts of Theodo|sius against the here|tics, A. D. 380—394.
• 48 1.64

  See the Theodosian Code, l. xvi. tit. v. leg. 6—23., with Godefroy's commentary on each law, and his general summary, or Paratition, tom. vi. p. 104—110.
• 49 1.65

  They always kept their Easter, like the Jewish Passover, on the fourteenth day of the first moon after the vernal equinox; and thus pertinaciously opposed the Roman church and Nicene synod, which had fixed Easter to a Sunday. Bingham's Antiquities, l. xx. c. 5. vol. ii. p. 309. fol. edit.
• 50 1.66

  Sozomen, l. vii. c. 12.
• * 1.67

  Execution of Priscil|lian and his asso|ciates, A. D. 385.
• 51 1.68

  See the sacred History of Sulpicius Severus (l. ii. p. 437—452. edit. Lugd. Bat. 1647.), a correct and original writer. Dr. Lardner (Credibility, &c. part ii. vol. ix. p. 256—350.) has laboured this article, with pure learning, good sense, and moderation. Tillemont (Mem. Eccles. tom. viii. p. 491—527.) has raked together all the dirt of the fathers: an useful scavenger!
• 52 1.69

  Severus Sulpicius mentions the arch-heretic with esteem and pity. Faelix profecto, si non pravo studio corrumpisset optimum in|genium: prorsus multa in eo animi et corporis bona cerneres (Hist. Sacra, l. ii. p. 439.). Even Jerom (tom. i. in Script. Eccles. p. 302.) speaks with temper of Priscillian and Latronian.
• 53 1.70

  The bishopric (in Old Castile) is now worth 20,000 ducats a year (Busching's Geography, vol. ii. p. 308.), and is therefore much less likely to produce the author of a new heresy.
• 54 1.71

  Exprobabatur mulieri viduae nimia religio, et diligentius culta divinitas (Pacat. in Panegyr. Vet. xii. 29.). Such was the idea of a humane, though ignorant, polytheist.
• 55 1.72

  One of them was sent in Syllinam insulam quae ultra Britan|niam est. What must have been the ancient condition of the rocks of Scilly (Cambden's Britannia, vol. ii. p. 1519.)?
• 56 1.73

  The scandalous calumnies of Augustin, Pope Leo, &c. which Tillemont swallows like a child, and Lardner refutes like a man, may suggest some candid suspicions in favour of the older Gnostics.
• 57 1.74

  Ambros. tom. ii. epist. xxiv. p. 891.
• 58 1.75

  In the Sacred History, and the Life of St. Martin, Sulpicius Severus uses some caution; but he declares himself more freely in the Dialogues (iii. 15.). Martin was reproved however, by his own conscience, and by an angel; nor could he afterwards perform miracles with so much ease.
• 59 1.76

  The Catholic presbyter (Sulp. Sever. l. ii. p. 448.), and the pagan Orator (Pacat. in Panegyr. Vet. xii. 29.), reprobate, with equal indignation, the character and conduct of Ithacius.
• * 1.77

  Ambrose, archbishop of Milan, A. D. 374—397.
• 60 1.78

  The life of St. Martin, and the Dialogues concerning his miracles, contain facts adapted to the grossest barbarism, in a style not unworthy of the Augustan age. So natural is the alliance be|tween good taste and good sense, that I am always astonished by this contrast.
• 61 1.79

  The short and superficial life of St. Ambrose, by his deacon Paulinus (Appendix ad edit. Benedict. p. i—xv.), has the merit of original evidence. Tillemont (Mem. Eccles. tom. x. p. 78—306.), and the Benedictine editors (p. xxxi—lxiii.), have laboured with their usual diligence.
• 62 1.80

  Ambrose himself (tom. ii. epist. xxiv. p. 888—891.) gives the emperor a very spirited account of his own embassy.
• * 1.81

  His suc|cessful op|position to the empres Justina, A. D. 385 April 3—April 10.
• 63 1.82

  His own representation of his principles and conduct (tom. ii. epist. xx. xxi. xxii. p. 852—880.) is one of the curious monuments of ecclesiastical antiquity. It contains two letters to his sister Mar|cellina, with a petition to Valentinian, and the sermon de Basilicis non tradendis.
• 64 1.83

  Retz had a similar message from the queen, to request that he would appease the tumult of Paris. It was no longer in his power, &c. A quoi j'ajoutai tout ce que vous pouvez vous imaginer de re|spect, de douleur, de regret, et de soumission, &c. (Memoires, tom. i. p. 140.) Certainly I do not compare either the causes, or the men; yet the coadjutor himself had some idea (p. 84.) of imitating St. Am|brose.
• * 1.84

  A. D. 386.
• 65 1.85

  Sozomen alone (l. vii. c. 13.) throws this luminous fact into a dark and perplexed narrative.
• 66 1.86

  Excubabat pia plebs in ecclesiâ mori parata cum episcopo suo . . . Nos adhuc frigidi excitabamur tamen civitate attonitâ atque turbatâ. Augustin. Confession. l. ix. c. 7.
• 67 1.87

  Tillemont, Mem. Eccless. tom. ii. p. 78. 498. Many churches in Italy, Gaul, &c. were dedicated to these unknown martyrs, of whom St. Gervase seems to have been more fortunate than his com|panion.
• 68 1.88

  Invenimus mirae magnitudinis viros duos, ut prisca aetas fere|bat. Tom. ii. epist. xxii. p. 875. The size of these skeletons was fortunately, or skilfully, suited to the popular prejudice of the gra|dual decrease of the human stature: which has prevailed in every age since the time of Homer.

  Grandiaque effossis mirabitur ossa sepulchris.
• 69 1.89

  Ambros. tom. ii. epist. xxii. p. 875. Augustin. Confes. l. ix. c. 7. de Civitat. Dei, l. xxii. c. 8. Paulin. in Vitâ St. Ambros. c. 14. in Append. Benedict. p. 4. The blind man's name was Severus; he touched the holy garment, recovered his sight, and de|voted the rest of his life (at least twenty-five years) to the service of the church. I should recommend this miracle to our divines, if it did not prove the worship of relics, as well as the Nicene creed.
• 70 1.90

  Paulin. in Vit. St. Ambros. c. 5. in Append. Benedict. p. 5.
• 71 1.91

  Tillemont, Mem. Eccles. tom. x. p. 190. 750. He partially allows the mediation of Theodosius; and capriciously rejects that of Maximus, though it is attested by Prosper, Sozomen, and Theo|doret.
• * 1.92

  Maximus invades Italy, A. D. 387, August.
• 72 1.93

  The modest censure of Sulpicius (Dialog. iii. 15.) inflicts a much deeper wound than the feeble declamation of Pacatus (xii. 25, 26.).
• 73 1.94

  Esto tutior adversus hominem, pacis involucro tegentem, was the wise caution of Ambrose (tom. ii. p. 891.), after his return from his second embassy.
• 74 1.95

  Baronius (A. D. 387. No 63.) applies to this season of pub|lic distress some of the penitential sermons of the archbishop.
• * 1.96

  Flight of Valen|tinian.
• * 1.97

  Theodo|sius takes arms in the cause of Valen|tinian. A. D. 387.
• 75 1.98

  The flight of Valentinian, and the love of Theodosius for his sister, are related by Zosimus (l. iv. p. 263, 264.). Tillemont pro|duces some weak and ambiguous evidence to antedate the second marriage of Theodosius (Hist. des Empereurs, tom. v. p. 740.), and consequently to refute ces contes de Zosime, qui seroient trop con|traires à la pieté de Theodose.
• * 1.99

  Defeat and death of Maximus, A. D. 388. June—August.
• 76 1.100

  See Godefroy's Chronology of the Laws, Cod. Theodos. tom. i. p. cxix.
• 77 1.101

  Besides the hints which may be gathered from chronicles and ecclesiastical history, Zosimus (l. iv. p. 259—267.), Orosius (l. vii. c. 35.), and Pacatus (in Panegyr. Vet. xii. 30—47.), supply the loose and scanty materials of this civil war. Ambrose (tom. ii. epist. xl. p. 952, 953.) darkly alludes to the well-known events of a magazine surprised, an action at Petovio, a Sicilian, perhaps a naval, victory, &c. Ausonius (p. 256. edit. Toll.) applauds the peculiar merit, and good fortune, of Aquileia.
• * 1.102

  Virtues of Theodo|sius.
• 78 1.103

  Quam promptum laudare principem, tam tutum siluisse de prin|cipe (Pacat. in Panegyr. Vet. xii. 2.). Latinus Pacatus Drepanius, a native of Gaul, pronounced this oration at Rome (A. D. 388.). He was afterwards proconsul of Africa; and his friend Ausonius praises him as a poet, second only to Virgil. See Tillemont, Hist. des Empereurs, tom. v. p. 303.
• 79 1.104

  See the fair portrait of Theodosius, by the younger Victor; the strokes are distinct, and the colours are mixed. The praise of Paca|tus is too vague: and Claudian always seems afraid of exalting the father above the son.
• 80 1.105

  Ambros. tom. ii. epist. xl. p. 955. Pacatus, from the want of skill, or of courage, omits this glorious circumstance.
• 81 1.106

  Pacat. in Panegyr. Vet. xii. 20.
• * 1.107

  Faults of Theodo|sius.
• 82 1.108

  Zosimus, l. iv. p. 271, 272. His partial evidence is marked by an air of candour and truth. He observes these vicissitudes of sloth, and activity, not as a vice, but as a singularity, in the cha|racter of Theodosius.
• 83 1.109

  This choleric temper is acknowledged, and excused, by Victor. Sed habes (says Ambrose, in decent and manly language, to his sovereign) naturae impetum, quem si quis lenire velit, cito vertes ad misericordiam: si quis stimulet, in magis exsuscitas, ut cum revocare vix possis (tom. ii. epist. li. p. 998.). Theodosius (Claud. in iv. Cons. Hon. 266, &c.) exhorts his son to moderate his anger.
• * 1.110

  The sedi|tion of Antioch, A. D. 387.
• * 1.111

  Feb. 26.
• 84 1.112

  The Christians and Pagans agreed in believing; that the sedi|tion of Antioch was excited by the daemons. A gigantic woman (says Sozomen, l. vii. c. 23.) paraded the streets with a scourge in her hand. An old man (says Libanius, Orat. xii. p. 396.) trans|formed himself into a youth, then a boy, &c.
• 85 1.113

  Zosimus, in his short and disingenuous account (l. iv. p. 258, 259.), is certainly mistaken in sending Libanius himself to Constan|tinople. His own orations fix him at Antioch.
• 86 1.114

  Libanius (Orat. i. p. 6. edit. Venet.) declares, that, under such a reign, the fear of a massacre was groundless and absurd, especially in the emperor's absence; for his presence, according to the eloquent slave, might have given a sanction to the most bloody acts.
• * 1.115

  March 22.
• 87 1.116

  Laodicea, on the sea-coast, sixty-five miles from Antioch (see Noris Epoch. Syro-Maced. Dissert. iii. p. 230.). The Antiochians were offended, that the dependent city of Seleucia should presume to intercede for them.
• 88 1.117

  As the days of the tumult depend on the moveable festival of Easter, they can only be determined by the previous determination of the year. The year 387 has been preferred, after a laborious in|quiry, by Tillemont (Hist. des Emp. tom. v. p. 741—744.) and Montfaucon (Chrysostom, tom. xiii. p. 105—110.).
• 89 1.118

  Chrysostom opposes their courage, which was not attended with much risk, to the cowardly flight of the Cynics.
• * 1.119

  Clemency of Theo|dosius.
• * 1.120

  April 25.
• 90 1.121

  The sedition of Antioch is represented in a lively, and almost dramatic, manner, by two orators, who had their respective shares of interest and merit. See Libanius (Orat. xiv, xv. p. 389—420. edit. Morel. Orat. i. p. 1—14. Venet. 1754.), and the twenty ora|tions of St. John Chrysostom, de Statuis (tom. ii. p. 1—225. edit. Montfaucon.). I do not pretend to much personal acquaintance with Chrysostom; but Tillemont (Hist. des Empereurs, tom. v. p. 263—283.) and Hermant (Vie de St. Chrysostome, tom. i. p. 137—224.) had read him with pious curiosity, and diligence.
• * 1.122

  Sedition and mas|sacre of Thessalo|nica, A. D. 390.
• 91 1.123

  The original evidence of Ambrose (tom. ii. epist. li. p. 998.), Augustin (de Civitat. Dei, v. 26.), and Paulinus (in Vit. Ambros. c. 24.), is delivered in vague expressions of horror and pity. It is illustrated by the subsequent and unequal testimonies of Sozomen (l. vii. c. 25.), Theodoret (l. v. c. 17.), Theophanes (Chronograph. p. 62.), Cedrenus (p. 317.), and Zonaras (tom. ii. l. xiii. p. 34.). Zosimus alone, the partial enemy of Theodosius, most unaccountably passes over in silence the worst of his actions.
• * 1.124

  Influence and con|duct of Ambrose, A. D. 388.
• 92 1.125

  See the whole transaction in Ambrose (tom. ii. epist. xl, xli. p. 946—956.), and his biographer Paulinus (c. 23.). Bayle and Barbeyrac (Morales des Péres, c. xvii. p. 325, &c.) have justly con|demned the archbishop.
• 93 1.126

  His sermon is a strange allegory of Jeremiah's rod, of an almond|tree, of the woman who washed and anointed the feet of Christ. But the peroration is direct and personal.
• 94 1.127

  Hodie, Episcope, de me proposuisti. Ambrose modestly con|fessed it: but he sternly reprimanded Timasius, general of the horse and foot, who had presumed to say, that the monks of Callinicum deserved punishment.
• 95 1.128

  Yet, five years afterwards, when Theodosius was absent from his spiritual guide, he tolerated the Jews, and condemned the de|struction of their synagogue. Cod. Theodos. l. xvi. tit. viii. leg. 9. with Godefroy's Commentary, tom. vi. p. 225.
• * 1.129

  Pennance of Theo|dosius, A. D. 390.
• 96 1.130

  Ambros. tom. ii. epist. li. p. 997—1001. His Epistle is a miserable rhapsody on a noble subject. Ambrose could act better than he could write. His compositions are destitute of taste, or ge|nius; without the spirit of Tertullian, the copious elegance of Lactantius, the lively wit of Jerom, or the grave energy of Au|gustin.
• 97 1.131

  According to the discipline of St. Basil (Canon lvi.), the vo|luntary homicide was four years a mourner; five an hearer; seven in a prostrate state; and four in a standing posture. I have the original (Beveridge, Pandect. tom. ii. p. 47—151.) and a translation (Char|don, Hist. des Sacremens, tom. iv. p. 219—277.) of the Canonical Epistles of St. Basil.
• 98 1.132

  The pennance of Theodosius is authenticated by Ambrose (tom. vi. de Obit. Theodos. c. 34. p. 1207.), Augustin. (de Civitat. Dei, v. 26.), and Paulinus (in Vit. Ambros. c. 24.). Socrates is ignorant; Sozomen (l. vii. c. 25.) concise; and the copious nar|rative of Theodoret (l. v. c. 18.) must be used with precaution.
• 99 1.133

  Codex Theodos. l. ix. tit. xl. leg. 13. The date and circum|stances of this law are perplexed with difficulties; but I feel myself inclined to favour the honest efforts of Tillemont (Hist. des Emp. tom. v. p. 721.) and Pagi (Critica, tom. i. p. 578.).
• 100 1.134

  Un prince qui aime la religion, et qui la craint, est un lion qui céde à la main qui le flatte, ou à la voix qui l'appaise. Esprit des Loix, l. xxiv. c. 2.
• * 1.135

  Generosity of Theo|dosius, A. D. 388—391.
• 101 1.136

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, is the niggard praise of Zosimus himself (l. iv. p. 267.). Augustin says, with some happi|ness of expression, Valentinianum . . . . misericordissimâ veneratione restituit.
• * 1.137

  Character of Valen|tinian, A. D. 391.
• 102 1.138

  Sozomen, l. vii. c. 14. His chronology is very irregular.
• 103 1.139

  See Ambrose (tom. ii. de Obit. Valentinian. c. 15, &c. p. 1178; c. 36, &c. p. 1184.). When the young emperor gave an entertainment, he fasted himself; he refused to see an handsome actress, &c. Since he ordered his wild beasts to be killed, it is un|generous in Philostorgius (l. xi. c. 1.) to reproach him with the love of that amusement.
• 104 1.140

  Zosimus (l. iv. p. 275.) praises the enemy of Theodosius. But he is detested by Socrates (l. v. c. 25.) and Orosius (l. vii. c. 35.).
• 105 1.141

  Gregory of Tours (l. ii. c. 9. p. 165. in the second volume of the Historians of France) has preserved a curious fragment of Sul|picius Alexander, an historian far more valuable than himself.
• * 1.142

  His death, A. D. 392, May 15.
• 106 1.143

  Godefroy (Dissertat. ad Philostorg. p. 429—434.) has dili|gently collected all the circumstances of the death of Valentinian II. The variations, and the ignorance, of contemporary writers, prove that it was secret.
• 107 1.144

  De Obitû Valentinian. tom. ii. p. 1173—1196. He is forced to speak a discreet and obscure language: yet he is much bolder than any layman, or perhaps any other ecclesiastic, would have dared to be.
• 108 1.145

  See c. 51. p. 1188. c. 75. p. 1193. Don Chardon (Hist. des Sacremens, tom. i. p. 86.), who owns that St. Ambrose most stre|nuously maintains the indispensable necessity of baptism, labours to re|concile the contradiction.
• * 1.146

  Usurpation of Euge|nius, A. D. 392—394.
• 109 1.147

  Quem sibi Germanus famulum delegerat exul, is the contemptuous expression of Claudian (iv. Cons. Hon. 74.). Eugenius professed Christianity; but his secret attachment to Pa|ganism (Sozomen, l. vii. c. 22. Philostorg. l. xi. c. 2.) is probable in a grammarian, and would secure the friendship of Zosimus (l. iv. p. 276, 277.).
• 110 1.148

  Zosimus (l. iv. p. 278.) mentions this embassy; but he is di|verted by another story from relating the event.
• 111 1.149

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Zosim. l. iv. p. 277. He afterwards says (p. 280.), that Galla died in childbed; and intimates, that the affliction of her husband was extreme, but short.
• * 1.150

  Theodo|sius pre|pares for war
• 112 1.151

  Lycopolis is the modern Siut, or Osiot, a town of Said, about the size of St. Denys, which drives a profitable trade with the king|dom of Sennaar; and has a very convenient fountain,

  "cujus potû signa virginitatis eripiuntur."

  See d'Anville, Description de l'Egypte, p. 181. Abulfeda, Descript. Aegyp. p. 14. and the cu|rious Annotations, p. 25. 92. of his editor Michaelis.
• 113 1.152

  The life of John of Lycopolis is described by his two friends, Rufinus (l. ii. c. 1. p. 449.) and Palladius (Hist. Lausiac. c. 43. p. 738.), in Rosweyde's great Collection of the Vitae Patrum. Tille|mont (Mem. Eccles. tom. x. p. 718. 720.) has settled the Chrono|logy.
• 114 1.153

  Sozomen, l. vii. c. 22. Claudian (in Eutrop. l. i. 312.) men|tions the eunuch's journey: but he most contemptuously derides the Egyptian dreams, and the oracles of the Nile.
• 115 1.154

  Zosimus, l. iv. p. 280. Socrates, l. vii. 10. Alaric himself (de Bell. Getico, 524.) dwells with more complacency on his early exploits against the Romans. . . . . Tot Augustus Hebro qui teste fugavi. Yet his vanity could scarcely have proved this plurality of flying em|perors.
• * 1.155

  His victory over Euge|nius. A. D. 394, Sept. 6.
• 116 1.156

  Claudian (in iv Cons. Honor. 77, &c.) contrasts the military plans of the two usurpers.

  .... Novitas audere priorem Suadebat; cautumque dabant exempla sequentem. Hic nova moliri praeceps: hic quaerere tutus Providus. Hic fusis; collectis viribus ille. Hic vagus excurrens, his intra claust•• reductus Dissimiles; sed morte pares.....
• 117 1.157

  The Frigidus, a small, though memorable, stream in the country of Goretz, now called the Vipao, falls into the Sontius, or Li••nzo, above Aquileia, some miles from the Hadriatic. See d'Anville's Ancient and Modern Maps, and the Italia Antiqua of Cluverius (tom. i. p. 188.).
• 118 1.158

  Claudian's wit is intolerable: the snow was dyed red; the cold river smoaked; and the channel must have been choaked with carcasses, if the current had not been swelled with blood.
• 119 1.159

  Theodoret affirms, that St. John, and St. Philip, appeared to the waking, or sleeping, emperor, on horseback, &c. This is the first instance of apostolic chivalry, which afterwards became so popular in Spain, and in the Crusades.
• 120 1.160

  Te propter, gelidis Aquilo de monte procellis Obruit adversas acies; revolutaque tela Vertit in auctores, et turbine reppulit hastas. O nimium dilecte Deo, cui fundit ab antris Aeolus armatas hyemes; cui militat Aether, Et conjurati veniunt ad classica venti.

  These famous lines of Claudian (in iii Cons. Honor. 93, &c. A. D. 396.) are alleged by his contemporaries, Augustin and Orosius; who suppress the Pagan deity of Aeolus; and add some circum|stances from the information of eye-witnesses. Within four months after the victory, it was compared by Ambrose to the miraculous victories of Moses and Joshua.
• 121 1.161

  The events of this civil war are gathered from Ambrose (tom. ii. epist. lxii. p. 1022.), Paulinus (in Vit. Ambros. c. 26—34.), Augustin (de Civitat. Dei, v. 26.), Orosius (l. vii. c. 35.), Sozomen (l. vii. c. 24.), Theodoret (l. v. c. 24.), Zosimus (l. iv. p. 281, 282.), Claudian (in iii Cons. Hon. 63—105. in iv Cons. Hon. 70—117.), and the Chronicles published by Scaliger.
• * 1.162

  Death of Theodo|sius, A. D. 395, Jan. 17.
• 122 1.163

  This disease, ascribed by Socrates (l. v. c. 26.) to the fatigues of war, is represented by Philostorgius (l. xi. c. 2.) as the effect of sloth and intemperance: for which Photius calls him an impudent liar (Godefroy, Dissert. p. 438.).
• 123 1.164

  Zosimus supposes, that the boy Honorius accompanied his father (l. iv. p. 280.). Yet the, quanto flagrabant pectora voto, is all that flattery would allow to a contemporary poet; who clearly describes the emperor's refusal, and the journey of Honorius, after the victory (Claudian in iii Cons. 78—125.).
• * 1.165

  Corrup|tion of the times.
• 124 1.166

  Zosimus, l. iv. p. 244.
• * 1.167

  The in|fantry lay aside their armour.
• 125 1.168

  Vegetius, de Re Militari, l. i. c. 10. The series of cala|mities, which he marks, compel us to believe, that the Hero, to whom he dedicates his book, is the last and most inglorious of the Valentinians.