CHAPTER XLIII. JOVIAN TO THEODOSIUS (363-395 A.D.)

ELECTION OF JOVIAN (FLAVIUS CLAUDIUS JOVIANUS)

Three or four hours of the night had not passed away without some secret

cabals; and when the election of an emperor was proposed, the spirit of

faction began to agitate the assembly. Victor and Arinthæus collected

the remains of the court of Constantius; the friends of Julian attached

themselves to the Gallic chiefs, Dagalaiphus and Nevitta; and the

most fatal consequences might be apprehended from the discord of two

factions, so opposite in their character and interest, in their maxims

of government, and perhaps in their religious principles. The superior

virtues of Sallust could alone reconcile their divisions, and unite their

suffrages; and the venerable prefect would immediately have been declared

the successor of Julian if he himself, with sincere and modest firmness,

had not alleged his age and infirmities, so unequal to the weight of the

diadem.

The generals, perplexed by his refusal, showed a disposition to adopt

the salutary advice of an inferior officer, that they should act as they

would have acted in the absence of the emperor; that they should exert

their abilities to extricate the army from the present distress; and, if

they were fortunate enough to reach the confines of Mesopotamia, they

should proceed with united and deliberate counsels in the election of

a lawful sovereign. While they debated, a few voices saluted Jovian,

who was no more than first of the domestics, with the names of emperor

and augustus. The tumultuary acclamation was instantly repeated by the

guards who surrounded the tent, and passed, in a few minutes, to the

extremities of the line. The new prince, astonished with his own fortune,

was hastily invested with the imperial ornaments, and received an oath

of fidelity from the generals, whose favour and protection he so lately

solicited. The strongest recommendation of Jovian was the merit of his

father, Count Varronian, who enjoyed in honourable retirement the fruit

of his long services. In the obscure freedom of a private station, the

son indulged his taste for wine and women; yet he supported, with credit,

the character of a Christian and a soldier. Without being conspicuous

for any of the ambitious qualifications which excite the admiration and

envy of mankind, the comely person of Jovian, his cheerful temper and

familiar wit, had gained the affection of his fellow-soldiers; and the

generals of both parties acquiesced in a popular election, which had not

been conducted by the arts of their enemies. The pride of this unexpected

elevation was moderated by the just apprehension that the same day might

terminate the life and reign of the new emperor. The pressing voice

of necessity was obeyed without delay; and the first orders issued by

Jovian, a few hours after his predecessor had expired, were to prosecute

a march, which could alone extricate the Romans from their actual

distress.

SAPOR ASSAILS THE ROMANS

The welcome news of the death of Julian, which a deserter revealed to the

camp of Sapor, inspired the desponding monarch with a sudden confidence

of victory. He immediately detached the royal cavalry, perhaps the ten

thousand _Immortals_, to second and support the pursuit; and discharged

the whole weight of his united forces on the rear-guard of the Romans.

The rear-guard was thrown into disorder; the renowned legions, which

derived their titles from Diocletian and his warlike colleague, were

broken and trampled down by the elephants; and three tribunes lost their

lives in attempting to stop the flight of their soldiers. The battle

was at length restored by the persevering valour of the Romans; the

Persians were repulsed with a great slaughter of men and elephants; and

the army, after marching and fighting a long summer’s day, arrived, in

the evening, at Samara on the banks of the Tigris, about one hundred

miles above Ctesiphon. On the ensuing day, the barbarians, instead of

harassing the march, attacked the camp of Jovian, which had been seated

in a deep and sequestered valley. From the hills, the archers of Persia

insulted and annoyed the weary legionaries, and a body of cavalry,

which had penetrated with desperate courage through the prætorian gate,

was cut in pieces, after a doubtful conflict, near the imperial tent.

In the succeeding night the camp at Carche was protected by the lofty

dikes of the river; and the Roman army, though incessantly exposed to

the vexatious pursuit of the Saracens, pitched their tents near the city

of Dura, four days after the death of Julian. The Tigris was still on

their left; their hopes and provisions were almost consumed; and the

impatient soldiers who had fondly persuaded themselves that the frontiers

of the empire were not far distant, requested their new sovereign, that

they might be permitted to hazard the passage of the river. With the

assistance of his wisest officers, Jovian endeavoured to check their

rashness, by representing that if they possessed sufficient skill and

vigour to stem the torrent of a deep and rapid stream, they would only

deliver themselves naked and defenceless to the barbarians who had

occupied the opposite banks.

Yielding at length to their clamorous importunities, he consented that

five hundred Gauls and Germans, accustomed from their infancy to the

waters of the Rhine and Danube, should attempt the bold adventure, which

might serve either as an encouragement, or as a warning, for the rest of

the army. In the silence of the night they swam the Tigris, surprised an

unguarded post of the enemy, and displayed at the dawn of day the signal

of their resolution and fortune. The success of this trial disposed the

emperor to listen to the promises of his architects, who proposed to

construct a floating bridge of the inflated skins of sheep, oxen, and

goats, covered with a floor of earth and fascines. Two important days

were spent in the ineffectual labour; and the Romans, who already endured

the miseries of famine, cast a look of despair on the Tigris, and upon

the barbarians, whose numbers and obstinacy increased with the distress

of the imperial army.

THE HUMILIATION OF THE ROMANS

In this hopeless situation, the fainting spirits of the Romans were

revived by the sound of peace. The transient presumption of Sapor had

vanished: he observed with serious concern, that in the repetition of

doubtful combats, he had lost his most faithful and intrepid nobles, his

bravest troops, and the greatest part of his train of elephants; and the

experienced monarch feared to provoke the resistance of despair, the

vicissitudes of fortune, and the unexhausted powers of the Roman Empire;

which might soon advance to relieve, or to revenge, the successor of

Julian. The Surenas himself, accompanied by another satrap, appeared in

the camp of Jovian; and declared that the clemency of his sovereign was

not averse to signify the conditions on which he would consent to spare

and to dismiss the cæsar, with the relics of his captive army. The hopes

of safety subdued the firmness of the Romans; the emperor was compelled,

by the advice of his council, and the cries of his soldiers, to embrace

the offer of peace; and the prefect Sallust was immediately sent, with

the general Arinthæus, to understand the pleasure of the Great King.

The crafty Persian delayed, under various pretences, the conclusion of

the agreement; started difficulties, required explanations, suggested

expedients, receded from his concessions, increased his demands, and

wasted four days in the arts of negotiation, till he had consumed the

stock of provisions which yet remained in the camp of the Romans. Had

Jovian been capable of executing a bold and prudent measure, he would

have continued his march with unremitting diligence; the progress of

the treaty would have suspended the attacks of the barbarians; and,

before the expiration of the fourth day, he might have safely reached

the fruitful province of Gordyene, at the distance of only one hundred

miles. The irresolute emperor, instead of breaking through the toils of

the enemy, expected his fate with patient resignation; and accepted the

humiliating conditions of peace, which it was no longer in his power to

refuse.

As the price of his disgraceful concessions, the emperor might perhaps

have stipulated, that the camp of the hungry Romans should be plentifully

supplied; and that they should be permitted to pass the Tigris on the

bridge which was constructed by the hands of the Persians. But if Jovian

presumed to solicit those equitable terms, they were sternly refused by

the haughty tyrant of the East whose clemency had pardoned the invaders

of his country. The Saracens sometimes intercepted the stragglers of the

march; but the generals and troops of Sapor respected the cessation of

arms, and Jovian was suffered to explore the most convenient place for

the passage of the river.[b]

“But when the trumpets openly gave the signal for crossing the river,”

says Ammianus, “it was dreadful to see with what ardour every individual

hastened to rush into this danger, preferring himself to all his comrades

in the desire of avoiding the many dangers and distresses behind him.

Some tried to guide the beasts who were swimming about at random, with

hurdles hurriedly put together; others, seated on bladders, and others,

being driven by necessity to all kinds of expedients, sought to pass

through the opposing waves by crossing them obliquely. The emperor

himself with a few others crossed over in the small boats, which we said

were saved when the fleet was burnt, and then sent the same vessels

backwards and forwards till our whole body was brought across. And at

length all of us, except such as were drowned, reached the opposite bank

of the river, being saved amid our difficulties by the favour of the

Supreme Deity.”[d]

As soon as the Romans had landed on the western bank, they were delivered

from the hostile pursuit of the barbarians; but, in a laborious march

of two hundred miles over the plains of Mesopotamia, they endured the

last extremities of thirst and hunger. At Thilsaphata, the emperor most

graciously received the generals of Mesopotamia; and the remains of a

once flourishing army at length reposed themselves under the walls of

Nisibis. The messengers of Jovian had proclaimed, in the language of

flattery, his election, his treaty, and his return; and the new prince

had taken the most effectual measures to secure the allegiance of the

armies and provinces of Europe, by placing the military command in the

hands of those officers who, from motives of interest or inclination,

would firmly support the cause of their benefactor.

The minds of the people were filled with astonishment and grief, with

indignation and terror, when they were informed that the unworthy

successor of Julian relinquished the five provinces which had been

acquired by the victory of Galerius, and shamefully surrendered to the

barbarians the important city of Nisibis, the firmest bulwark of the

provinces of the East. The deep and dangerous question, how far the

public faith should be observed, when it becomes incompatible with the

public safety, was freely agitated in popular conversation; and some

hopes were entertained, that the emperor would redeem his pusillanimous

behaviour by a splendid act of patriotic perfidy. The inflexible spirit

of the Roman senate had always disclaimed the unequal conditions which

were extorted from the distress of her captive armies; and, if it were

necessary to satisfy the national honour by delivering the guilty general

into the hands of the barbarians, the greatest part of the subjects of

Jovian would have cheerfully acquiesced in the precedent of ancient times.

But the emperor, whatever might be the limits of his constitutional

authority, was the absolute master of the laws and arms of the state;

and the same motives which had forced him to subscribe, now pressed

him to execute, the treaty of peace. He was impatient to secure an

empire at the expense of a few provinces; and the respectable names

of religion and honour concealed the personal fears and ambition of

Jovian. Notwithstanding the dutiful solicitations of the inhabitants,

decency, as well as prudence, forbade the emperor to lodge in the

palace of Nisibis; but the next morning after his arrival, Bineses, the

ambassador of Persia, entered the place, displayed from the citadel

the standard of the Great King, and proclaimed, in his name, the cruel

alternative of exile or servitude. The principal citizens of Nisibis,

who till that fatal moment had confided in the protection of their

sovereign, threw themselves at his feet. They conjured him not to

abandon, or at least not to deliver, a faithful colony to the rage of a

barbarian tyrant, exasperated by the three successive defeats which he

had experienced under the walls of Nisibis. They still possessed arms

and courage to repel the invaders of their country; they requested only

the permission of using them in their own defence; and as soon as they

had asserted their independence, they should implore the favour of being

again admitted into the ranks of his subjects. Their arguments, their

eloquence, their tears, were ineffectual. Jovian alleged, with some

confusion, the sanctity of oaths; and, as the reluctance with which he

accepted the present of a crown of gold convinced the citizens of their

hopeless condition, the advocate Sylvanus was provoked to exclaim, “O

emperor! may you thus be crowned by all the cities of your dominions!”

Jovian, who in a few weeks had easily learned to assume the habits of a

prince, was displeased with freedom and offended with truth; and as he

reasonably supposed that the discontent of the people might incline them

to submit to the Persian government, he published an edict, under pain of

death, that they should leave the city within the term of three days. The

savage insensibility of Jovian appears to have aggravated the hardships

of these unhappy fugitives. They were seated, however, in a new-built

quarter of Amida; and that rising city, with the reinforcement of a very

considerable colony, soon recovered its former splendour, and became the

capital of Mesopotamia. Similar orders were despatched by the emperor

for the evacuation of Singara and the castle of the Moors; and for the

restitution of the five provinces beyond the Tigris. Sapor enjoyed the

glory and the fruits of his victory; and this ignominious peace has

justly been considered as a memorable era in the decline and fall of the

Roman Empire.

After Jovian had performed those engagements, which the voice of his

people might have tempted him to violate, he hastened away from the scene

of his disgrace, and proceeded with his whole court to enjoy the luxury

of Antioch.[b]

Ammianus has left us a terse description of the personal traits of the

emperor. “Jovian,” he says, “was slow in his movements, of a cheerful

countenance, with blue eyes, very tall, so much so that it was long

before any of the royal robes could be found to fit him. He was anxious

to imitate Constantius, often occupying himself with serious business

till after midday, and being fond of jesting with his friends in public.

He was given to the study of the Christian law, sometimes doing it

marked honour; he was tolerably learned in it, very well inclined to its

professors, and disposed to promote them to be judges, as was seen in

some of his appointments. He was fond of eating and addicted to wine and

women.”[d]

Jovian was educated in the profession of Christianity; and as he marched

from Nisibis to Antioch, the banner of the cross, the _Labarum_ of

Constantine, which was again displayed at the head of the legions,

announced to the people the faith of their new emperor. As soon as

he ascended the throne, he transmitted a circular epistle to all the

governors of provinces; in which he confessed the divine truth, and

secured the legal establishment, of the Christian religion. The insidious

edicts of Julian were abolished; the ecclesiastical immunities were

restored and enlarged; and Jovian condescended to lament, that the

distress of the times obliged him to diminish the measure of charitable

contributions. The Christians were unanimous in the loud and sincere

applause which they bestowed on the pious successor of Julian. But they

were still ignorant what creed, or what synod, he would choose for the

standard of orthodoxy; and the peace of the church immediately revived

those eager disputes which had been suspended during the season of

persecution. The episcopal leaders of the contending sects, convinced

from experience how much their fate would depend on the earliest

impressions that were made on the mind of an untutored soldier, hastened

to the court of Edessa, or Antioch. The highways of the East were crowded

with Homoöusian, and Arian, and semi-Arian, and Eunomian bishops, who

struggled to outstrip each other in the holy race; the apartments of

the palace resounded with their clamours; and the ears of their prince

were assaulted, and perhaps astonished, by the singular mixture of

metaphysical argument and passionate invective. The moderation of

Jovian, who recommended concord and charity, and referred the disputants

to the sentence of a future council, was interpreted as a symptom of

indifference; but his attachment to the Nicene creed was at length

discovered and declared, by the reverence which he expressed for the

celestial virtues of the great Athanasius. The intrepid veteran of the

faith, at the age of seventy, had issued from his retreat on the first

intelligence of the tyrant’s death. The acclamations of the people seated

him once more on the archiepiscopal throne; and he wisely accepted, or

anticipated, the invitation of Jovian. Before his departure from Antioch,

he assured Jovian that his orthodox devotion would be rewarded by a long

and peaceful reign. Athanasius had reason to hope, that he should be

allowed either the merit of a successful prediction, or the excuse of a

grateful, though ineffectual, prayer.

The slightest force, when it is applied to assist and guide the natural

descent of its object, operates with irresistible weight; and Jovian had

the good fortune to embrace the religious opinions which were supported

by the spirit of the times, and the zeal and numbers of the most powerful

sect. Under his reign, Christianity obtained an easy and lasting victory;

and as soon as the smile of royal patronage was withdrawn, the genius

of paganism, which had been fondly raised and cherished by the arts of

Julian, sank irrecoverably in the dust.

[Sidenote: [363-364 A.D.]]

In the space of seven months, the Roman troops, who were now returned

to Antioch, had performed a march of fifteen hundred miles; in which

they had endured all the hardships of war, of famine, and of climate.

Notwithstanding their services, their fatigues, and the approach of

winter, the timid and impatient Jovian allowed only, to the men and

horses, a respite of six weeks. The emperor could not sustain the

indiscreet and malicious raillery of the people of Antioch. He was

impatient to possess the palace of Constantinople; and to prevent the

ambition of some competitor, who might occupy the vacant allegiance

of Europe. But he soon received the grateful intelligence, that his

authority was acknowledged from the Thracian Bosporus to the Atlantic

Ocean. By the first letters which the emperor had despatched from the

camp of Mesopotamia, he had delegated the military command of Gaul and

Illyricum to Malarich, a brave and faithful officer of the nation of

the Franks; and to his father-in-law Count Lucillian, who had formerly

distinguished his courage and conduct in the defence of Nisibis. Malarich

had declined an office to which he thought himself unequal; and Lucillian

was massacred at Remi [Rheims], in an accidental mutiny of the Batavian

cohorts. But the moderation of Jovinus, master-general of the cavalry,

who forgave the intention of his disgrace, soon appeased the tumult, and

confirmed the uncertain minds of the soldiers. The oath of fidelity was

administered, and taken with loyal acclamations; and the deputies of the

western armies saluted their new sovereign as he descended from Mount

Taurus to the city of Tyana, in Cappadocia. From Tyana he continued his

hasty march to Ancyra, capital of the province of Galatia; where Jovian

assumed, with his infant son, the name and ensigns of the consulship.

Dadastana, an obscure town, almost at an equal distance between Ancyra

and Nicæa, was marked for the fatal term of his journey and his life.

After indulging himself with a plentiful, perhaps an intemperate, supper,

he retired to rest; and the next morning the emperor Jovian was found

dead in his bed.

The cause of the sudden death of Jovian was variously understood. By some

it was ascribed to the consequences of an indigestion, occasioned either

by the quantity of the wine, or the quality of the mushrooms, which he

had swallowed in the evening. According to others, he was suffocated

in his sleep by the vapour of charcoal, which extracted from the walls

of the apartment the unwholesome moisture of the fresh plaster. The

body of Jovian was sent to Constantinople, to be interred with his

predecessors’; and the sad procession was met on the road by his wife

Charito, the daughter of Count Lucillian; who still wept the recent death

of her father, and was hastening to dry her tears in the embraces of an

imperial husband. Her disappointment and grief were embittered by the

anxiety of maternal tenderness. Six weeks before the death of Jovian, his

infant son had been placed in the curule chair, adorned with the title

of _Nobilissimus_, and the vain ensigns of the consulship. Unconscious

of his fortune, the royal youth, who, from his grandfather, assumed the

name of Varronian, was reminded only by the jealousy of the government,

that he was the son of an emperor. Sixteen years afterwards he was still

alive, but he had already been deprived of an eye; and his afflicted

mother expected, every hour, that the innocent victim would be torn from

her arms, to appease with his blood the suspicions of the reigning prince.

VALENTINIAN AND VALENS

After the death of Jovian, the throne of the Roman world remained ten

days without a master. The ministers and generals still continued to

meet in council; to exercise their respective functions; to maintain the

public order; and peaceably to conduct the army to the city of Nicæa in

Bithynia, which was chosen for the place of the election. In a solemn

assembly of the civil and military powers of the empire, the diadem was

again unanimously offered to the prefect Sallust. He enjoyed the glory

of a second refusal; and when the virtues of the father were alleged in

favour of his son, the prefect, with the firmness of a disinterested

patriot, declared to the electors, that the feeble age of the one,

and the inexperienced youth of the other, were equally incapable of

the laborious duties of government. Several candidates were proposed;

and, after weighing the objections of character or situation, they

were successively rejected; but as soon as the name of Valentinian was

pronounced, the merit of that officer united the suffrages of the whole

assembly, and obtained the sincere approbation of Sallust himself.

Valentinian was the son of Count Gratian, who was a native of Cibalis

in Pannonia, and who, from an obscure condition, had raised himself,

by matchless strength and dexterity, to the military commands of

Africa and Britain; from which he retired with an ample fortune and

suspicious integrity. The rank and services of Gratian contributed,

however, to smooth the first steps of the promotion of his son, and

afforded him an early opportunity of displaying those solid and useful

qualifications, which raised his character above the ordinary level of

his fellow-soldiers.

The person of Valentinian was tall, graceful, and majestic. His manly

countenance, marked with the impressions of sense and spirit, inspired

his friends with awe, and his enemies with fear; and, to second the

efforts of his undaunted courage, the son of Gratian had inherited

the advantages of a strong and healthy constitution. By the habits of

chastity and temperance, which restrain the appetites and invigorate

the faculties, Valentinian preserved his own and the public esteem. The

avocations of a military life had diverted his youth from the elegant

pursuits of literature; he was ignorant of the Greek language, and the

arts of rhetoric; but as the mind of the orator was never disconcerted

by timid perplexity, he was able, as often as the occasion prompted

him, to deliver his decided sentiments with bold and ready elocution.

The laws of martial discipline were the only laws that he had studied;

and he was soon distinguished by the laborious diligence and inflexible

severity with which he discharged and enforced the duties of the camp.

In the time of Julian he provoked the danger of disgrace by the contempt

which he publicly expressed for the reigning religion; and it should

seem from his subsequent conduct that the indiscreet and unseasonable

freedom of Valentinian was the effect of military spirit, rather than of

Christian zeal. He was pardoned, however, and still employed by a prince

who esteemed his merit; and in the various events of the Persian War, he

improved the reputation which he had already acquired on the banks of

the Rhine. The celerity and success with which he executed an important

commission recommended him to the favour of Jovian, and to the honourable

command of the second school, or company, of targeteers, of the domestic

guards. In the march from Antioch, he had reached his quarters at Ancyra,

when he was unexpectedly summoned, without guilt, and without intrigue,

to assume, in the forty-third year of his age, the absolute government of

the Roman Empire.

The invitation of the ministers and generals at Nicæa was of little

moment, unless it were confirmed by the voice of the army. The aged

Sallust, who had long observed the irregular fluctuations of popular

assemblies, proposed, under pain of death, that none of those persons,

whose rank in the service might excite a party in their favour, should

appear in public on the day of the inauguration. Yet such was the

prevalence of ancient superstition, that a whole day was voluntarily

added to this dangerous interval, because it happened to be the

intercalation of the bissextile. At length, when the hour was supposed

to be propitious, Valentinian showed himself from a lofty tribunal; the

judicious choice was applauded; and the new prince solemnly invested with

the diadem and the purple amidst the acclamations of the troops, who were

disposed in martial order round the tribunal. But when he stretched forth

his hand to address the armed multitude, a busy whisper was accidentally

started in the ranks, and insensibly swelled into a loud and imperious

clamour, that he should name, without delay, a colleague in the empire.

The intrepid calmness of Valentinian at last obtained silence, and

commanded respect; and he thus addressed the assembly: “A few minutes

since it was in your power, fellow-soldiers, to have left me in the

obscurity of a private station. Judging, from the testimony of my past

life, that I deserved to reign, you have placed me on the throne. It

is now my duty to consult the safety and interest of the republic. The

weight of the universe is undoubtedly too great for the hands of a

feeble mortal. I am conscious of the limits of my abilities, and the

uncertainty of my life; and far from declining, I am anxious to solicit,

the assistance of a worthy colleague. But, where discord may be fatal,

the choice of a faithful friend requires mature and serious deliberation.

That deliberation shall be my care. Let your conduct be dutiful and

consistent. Retire to your quarters, refresh your minds and bodies; and

expect the accustomed donative on the accession of the new emperor.”

The astonished troops, with a mixture of pride, of satisfaction, and

of terror, confessed the voice of their master. Their angry clamours

subsided into silent reverence; and Valentinian, encompassed with the

eagles of the legions, and the various banners of the cavalry and

infantry, was conducted, in warlike pomp, to the palace of Nicæa. As

he was sensible, however, of the importance of preventing some rash

declaration of the soldiers, he consulted the assembly of the chiefs; and

their real sentiments were concisely expressed by the generous freedom

of Dagalaiphus. “Most excellent prince,” said that officer, “if you

consider only your family, you have a brother; if you love the republic,

look round for the most deserving of the Romans.”

The emperor, who suppressed his displeasure, without altering his

intention, slowly proceeded from Nicæa to Nicomedia and Constantinople.

In one of the suburbs of that capital, thirty days after his own

elevation, he bestowed the title of Augustus on his brother Valens; and

as the boldest patriots were convinced that their opposition, without

being serviceable to their country, would be fatal to themselves, the

declaration of his absolute will was received with silent submission.

Valens was now in the thirty-sixth year of his age; but his abilities

had never been exercised in any employment, military or civil, and his

character had not inspired the world with any sanguine expectations. He

possessed, however, one quality, which recommended him to Valentinian,

and preserved the domestic peace of the empire: a devout and grateful

attachment to his benefactor, whose superiority of genius, as well as of

authority, Valens humbly and cheerfully acknowledged in every action of

his life.

Before Valentinian divided the provinces, he reformed the administration

of the empire. All ranks of subjects, who had been injured or oppressed

under the reign of Julian, were invited to support their public

accusations. The silence of mankind attested the spotless integrity of

the prefect Sallust; and his own pressing solicitations that he might

be permitted to retire from the business of the state were rejected

by Valentinian with the most honourable expressions of friendship and

esteem. But among the favourites of the late emperor, there were many

who had abused his credulity or superstition, and who could no longer

hope to be protected either by favour or justice.[62] The greater part

of the ministers of the palace, and the governors of the provinces,

were removed from their respective stations; yet the eminent merit

of some officers was distinguished from the obnoxious crowd; and,

notwithstanding the opposite clamours of zeal and resentment, the whole

proceedings of this delicate inquiry appear to have been conducted with a

reasonable share of wisdom and moderation. The festivity of a new reign

received a short and suspicious interruption from the sudden illness of

the two princes; but as soon as their health was restored, they left

Constantinople in the beginning of the spring. In the castle or palace

of Mediana, only three miles from Naissus, they executed the solemn and

final division of the Roman Empire. Valentinian bestowed on his brother

the rich prefecture of the East, from the lower Danube to the confines

of Persia; whilst he reserved for his immediate government the warlike

prefectures of Illyricum, Italy, and Gaul, from the extremity of Greece

to the Caledonian rampart; and from the rampart of Caledonia to the foot

of Mount Atlas. The provincial administration remained on its former

basis; but a double supply of generals and magistrates was required for

two councils and two courts: the division was made with a just regard to

their peculiar merit and situation, and seven master-generals were soon

created, either of the cavalry or infantry. When this important business

had been amicably transacted, Valentinian and Valens embraced for the

last time. The emperor of the West established his temporary residence at

Mediolanum; and the emperor of the East returned to Constantinople, to

assume the dominion of fifty provinces, of whose language he was totally

ignorant.[b]

[Sidenote: [363-369 A.D.]]

When Julian had gone, the barbarians, repulsed for a while, had once

more turned towards the Roman provinces. The Alamanni and Burgundians

crossed the upper Rhine, the Quadi and Sarmatians the Danube. The Franks

had come out of their cantonments on the lower Rhine, and Saxon pirates

again swarmed on the seas. In Britain the Picts and Scots had come down

from their mountains. In Africa a Moorish chief, Firmus, had revolted.

It seemed as if the whole barbarian world had risen to assail a falling

and humiliated empire. Valentinian had the courage necessary to face the

danger; able generals, Jovin, Sebastian, above all Theodosius, helped

in this difficult task. In the year 365 he established himself in Paris

that he might keep a closer watch over the barbarians, degraded the corps

which had allowed their standards to be seized, and, feeling more sure of

his troops after this revival of ancient discipline, he marched against

the Alamanni, whom he defeated near Catelauni (Châlons) (366).

[Illustration: PROWS OF ROMAN WAR GALLEYS]

Two years later, one of their kings, Randon, surprised Mogontiacum when

_en fête_ and took much booty and many captives. Similar expeditions were

on foot, and the whole Alamannic league was astir. The emperor resumed

the policy of Diocletian, Tiberius, and Augustus, and sowed division

among the barbarians. The Burgundians, who had already attained to a

certain degree of civilisation, were gained over and opposed to the

Alamanni. He himself crossed the Rhine with a numerous army and conquered

the rebellious tribes near Solicinium[63] (368). He employed part of the

following year in raising the fortifications which guarded the river

passages, and on the Neckar, near Mannheim, began works to which he

wished to attach great importance. To make the barbarians understand that

the empire intended to resume its aggressive position towards them, he

entered the great valley of the Mœnus (Main), which flows through the

heart of Germany. Macrianus, the Alamannic king, was alarmed and sued for

peace, and Valentinian returned in triumph to Augusta Trevirorum (Trèves)

with his son Gratian. The poet Ausonius of Burdigala (Bordeaux), the

young prince’s tutor, and Symmachus, the last orator of Rome, celebrated

these exploits which gave security to Gaul.

During these operations on the Rhine those “kings of the sea,” the

Saxons, had been chased from the shores they had been accustomed to

pillage, and the count Theodosius, the father of the future emperor, had

acquired in Britain a renown almost equal among his contemporaries to

that of Agricola; but he had not a Tacitus for son-in-law. He saved the

Britons from pillage by the Picts, re-established the Roman dominion,

which had been nearly driven from the island, and consolidated it by a

wise administration. Some time after, he brought the same talents into

Africa. The exactions of the last governors and their cruelties towards

the Donatists had excited such great disaffection that Firmus the

Moor had been able to conquer a large part of the country. Theodosius

suppressed the revolt, and, after the death of Valentinian, restored

peace to the province; but, becoming involved in some obscure intrigue,

in spite of his innocence and his services, he was beheaded at Carthage.

In the internal government of the provinces Valentinian was hard and

often cruel. He had hardly any other punishment for crimes save death.

And if we are to credit a not very reliable story, he had lodged in his

palace two immense bears, which tore criminals to pieces before his

eyes. In religious matters he followed the principles of tolerance, with

regard to all religions, although he himself belonged to the orthodox

church. The magicians alone, who were then rapidly increasing in number,

were diligently hunted down. Wise laws against the exposing of children,

for the management of schools, the retaining of paid doctors in Rome

and the establishment in provincial towns of protectors or defensors of

the city, show that he was not only a man of war. Unfortunately for the

empire he died in an expedition against the Quadi. When these people,

whom he intended to punish for an incursion into Illyricum, heard of

his coming, they sent him a humble embassy to which he refused to

listen. When he had pitilessly devastated their country, he consented

to receive their deputies, but spoke to them with so much passion that

he burst a blood vessel, and some moments after expired (375). The

successor of Valentinian was his son Gratian, who had borne the title of

Augustus since 367, and was now only seventeen. He accepted his brother

Valentinian II, then only four years old, as colleague, and abandoned in

his favour the prefectures of Italy and Illyricum.

INVASION OF THE GOTHS IN THE EAST (375); BATTLE OF HADRIANOPOLIS AND

DEATH OF VALENS (378)

[Sidenote: [366-375 A.D.]]

During these events there reigned in the East a suspicious and weak

prince, Valens, who had had to suppress the revolt of Procopius, cousin

to Julian. That usurper being detected in treason was beheaded (366); but

Valens, far from imitating the prudent reserve of his brother, disturbed

the whole Orient by a cruel persecution directed against the magicians

and those who consulted them, and also by his partiality for the Arians.

The faithful of the orthodox church were once more disturbed, the bishops

driven from their sees, and an Arian placed on the archiepiscopal throne

at Constantinople. Still worse sufferings would have been inflicted on

the Church if the gravity of the political events which filled this reign

had left Valens sufficient leisure to respond to all the demands of the

heretic leaders. Sapor had expelled the kings of Armenia and Iberia.

Valens restored them and forced the Great King to agree to a treaty with

the empire. This was a success, but unfortunately a frightful catastrophe

was preparing on the Thracian border.

Procopius, when he revolted, had taken into his pay a corps of three

thousand Visigoths. When the usurper was overthrown Valens endeavoured

to punish the barbarians for the help they had furnished. A three years’

war ended in a treaty by which the barbarians were sent beyond the

Danube, the subsidies which the empire had paid them were suppressed, and

two frontier towns given in exchange. Athanaric, one of the principal

leaders of the western Goths or Visigoths who lived to the north of the

lower Danube, accepted this convention for his people. Bishop Ulfilas

had just converted a number of the Goths to Arianism. He had compiled a

translation of the Gospels in their tongue, the first written monument of

their language. The manuscript is preserved at Upsala. Ulfilas had first

to make an alphabet, which he borrowed in great part from that of the

Greeks. Arianism was therefore to return with the barbarians during the

invasion.

To that invasion we are approaching, after having seen it constantly

threatening for nearly two hundred years. The people who brought it about

were strangers to the Germanic race, being tribes of Huns belonging

to the Mongolian race, as far as can be judged from the description

which ancient writers have left us of the features and customs of these

ferocious hordes. The Huns were nomads and scarcely recognised social

ties. The tribes in their expeditions followed particular leaders, who

sometimes, however, united for common enterprises. Attila, one of them,

is apparently the first who contrived to make the entire nation recognise

his authority.

All the Huns were horsemen, and knew no other dwellings than their tents

or huts. As greedy and cruel as those Mongols of the Middle Ages who

killed five or six million men under Jenghiz Khan, they ravaged gold and

silver--not for use, because that they did not understand, but simply

to possess it. Following their vagabond instincts, and in order to

augment these useless treasures, they undertook disastrous expeditions

against civilised peoples. Their incursions, so rapid and unlooked for,

spread more terror than those of any other barbarous people of the time,

for wherever they passed they destroyed, merely for the pleasure of

destroying. Attila, their great chief, boasted later that grass would

not spring again where his horse had passed. There was a legend that

they were born in the desert of demons and witches, and their cruelty

towards women, whom even the Germans in their ravages respected, seemed

to confirm this unclean origin.

[Sidenote: [375-378 A.D.]]

Where they first lived and what led them to migrate towards the west,

is unknown, but it seems to be established that, at the time when the

Scandinavian and German tribes began to stir, the nomadic hordes of

western Asia furled their tents and advanced on the west. Their march,

many times interrupted and by long intervals, owing to the obstinate

resistance of certain tribes, resumed its course when the obstacle had

been overcome or they had attracted to them the peoples who had stopped

their way. This is what happened in the time of Valens. The Huns crossed

the Urals and subjugated the Alans who lived between the Volga and the

Black Sea. A part of these people fled beyond the Caucasus, where their

descendants still live; the rest followed the conquerors, who, spreading

over the vast plains of Sarmatia, found themselves confronted by the

great kingdom of the Goths.

That great German nation, which had gradually descended from the mouth

of the Oder, on the Danube and Pontus Euxinus, had long remained divided

under a great number of chiefs. But Hermanric had united the greater part

of his tribes and founded a powerful state, the kingdom of the Ostrogoths

or eastern Goths, which extended from the Baltic to the Black Sea, and

a number of peoples had submitted to him. This kingdom barred the whole

continent and, had it not already been in full course of dissolution,

would no doubt have stopped the invasion.

When the aged Hermanric learned of the enemy’s approach, he made great

preparations, despite his 110 years. But the vassal tribes showed little

zeal for such a formidable war. Two chiefs of the Roxolani, whose sister

he had caused to be trampled to death under his horse’s hoofs because

her husband refused to arm for him, tried to assassinate him. Other

chiefs also refused obedience and the old king in desperation fell upon

his sword. His successor Whithimer was vanquished and killed. He left an

infant son who was saved by Alatheus and Saphrax, two Gothic warriors who

had served for a long time in the Roman armies. Leaving the bulk of the

nation to make submission to the conquerors, they, with the royal child,

gained the interior of the country by skilful marches and escaped the

pursuit of the Huns, now occupied in fighting a new enemy. Athanaric,

a chief of the western Goths, had advanced as far as the Danastris

(Dniester) to defend the passage; their cavalry crossed the river during

the night and attacked him in the rear. There was nothing for it but to

retreat as far as the Pyretus (Pruth). There Athanaric wanted to raise

fortifications from the Carpathians to the sea and might thus have

arrested the Huns, but his discouraged people preferred going to beg an

asylum in the territories of the empire. The brave chief himself refused

such a disgrace, or did not venture to trust to the hospitality of

Valens, and fled to the mountains with a few faithful warriors (375).

When the emperor was told that what remained of the Gothic nation was

now suppliant to him, his flattered pride made him forget his prudence,

and he opened the empire to this multitude, which still numbered two

hundred thousand fighting men. The only condition imposed was that they

should lay down their arms and give some of their children as hostages,

who were sent to the small towns of Asia Minor. The barbarians submitted

to anything. But when the imperial officers saw them disarmed they would

sell them no provisions except at the highest prices. All their money

was first exhausted, then their slaves, and afterwards their children,

whom they sold. When they had nothing more they were reduced to taking by

force what was refused to them, and went marauding through the country.

They had not given up all their arms and they manufactured more. Alatheus

and Saphrax, who, about the same time, forced the Danube passage and came

with their comrades to join them, augmented both their numbers and their

confidence. All Thrace was given up to pillage. Even Huns and Alans ran

to share in the prey.

Valens collected his forces to fight them and also invoked the aid of

his nephew. Gratian promised help, but a young Alamannian of his guard,

away on leave among his own people, having spoken of these preparations,

the Alamanni thought it a favourable opportunity to attack the denuded

frontiers and their movement made it necessary to keep back the troops

destined for Valens. Yet every day added to the peril of this prince.

All the barbarians settled in the Danubian provinces, all the Germanic

captives whom the emperors had transported there, hastened to join

their brethren. For a whole year the legions vainly tried to stay the

devastation. At last, in 378, Valens arrived with a part of the army of

the East. Gratian was also on the march; but Valens wanted to prevent the

concentration of the barbarians in a single body and advanced against

them.[c]

The Goths had proposed to occupy the defiles on the road from

Constantinople to Hadrianopolis, but the march of the imperial troops was

conducted with so much skill and celerity, that they reached the latter

place unimpeded and secured themselves in a strong camp beneath its

walls. A council was held to decide on future operations.[e]

VALENS MARCHES AGAINST THE GOTHS

[Sidenote: [378 A.D.]]

On the ninth of August, a day which has deserved to be marked among the

most inauspicious of the Roman calendar, the emperor Valens, leaving

under a strong guard his baggage and military treasure, marched from

Hadrianopolis to attack the Goths, who were encamped about twelve miles

from the city. By some mistake of the orders, or some ignorance of the

ground, the right wing or column of cavalry arrived in sight of the

enemy whilst the left was still at a considerable distance; the soldiers

were compelled, in the sultry heat of summer, to precipitate their pace;

and the line of battle was formed with tedious confusion and irregular

delay. The Gothic cavalry had been detached to forage in the adjacent

country; and Fritigern still continued to practise his customary arts. He

despatched messengers of peace, made proposals, required hostages, and

wasted the hours, till the Romans, exposed without shelter to the burning

rays of the sun, were exhausted by thirst, hunger, and intolerable

fatigue. The emperor was persuaded to send an ambassador to the Gothic

camp; the zeal of Richomer, who alone had courage to accept the dangerous

commission, was applauded.

[Illustration: A GOTHIC WARRIOR

(After Hothmoth)]

The count of the domestics, adorned with the splendid ensigns of his

dignity, had proceeded some way in the space between the two armies, when

he was suddenly recalled by the alarm of battle. The hasty and imprudent

attack was made by Bacurius the Iberian, who commanded a body of archers

and targeteers; and as they advanced with rashness, they retreated with

loss and disgrace. In the same moment the flying squadrons of Alatheus

and Saphrax, whose return was anxiously expected by the general of the

Goths, descended like a whirlwind from the hills, swept across the plain,

and added new terrors to the tumultuous but irresistible charge of the

barbarian host. The event of the battle of Hadrianopolis, so fatal to

Valens and to the empire, may be described in a few words; the Roman

cavalry fled; the infantry was abandoned, surrounded, and cut in pieces.

The most skilful evolutions, the firmest courage, are scarcely sufficient

to extricate a body of foot, encompassed on an open plain by superior

numbers of horse; but the troops of Valens, oppressed by the weight of

the enemy and their own fears, were crowded into a narrow space, where it

was impossible for them to extend their ranks, or even to use with effect

their swords and javelins.

In the midst of tumult, slaughter, and dismay, the emperor, deserted

by his guards, and wounded, as it was supposed, with an arrow, sought

protection among the lancearii and the mattiarii, who still maintained

their ground with some appearance of order and firmness. His faithful

generals, Trajan and Victor, who perceived his danger, loudly exclaimed

that all was lost unless the person of the emperor could be saved.

Some troops, animated by their exhortation, advanced to his relief;

they found only a bloody spot, covered with a heap of broken arms and

mangled bodies, without being able to discover their unfortunate prince,

either among the living or the dead. Their search could not indeed be

successful, if there is any truth in the circumstances with which some

historians have related the death of the emperor. By the care of his

attendants, Valens was removed from the field of battle to a neighbouring

cottage, where they attempted to dress his wound, and to provide for his

future safety. But his humble retreat was instantly surrounded by the

enemy; they tried to force the door; they were provoked by a discharge

of arrows from the roof, till at length, impatient of delay, they set

fire to a pile of dry fagots, and consumed the cottage with the Roman

emperor and his train. Valens perished in the flames; and a youth who

dropped from the window alone escaped, to attest the melancholy tale and

to inform the Goths of the inestimable prize which they had lost by their

own rashness. A great number of brave and distinguished officers perished

in the battle of Hadrianopolis, which equalled in the actual loss, and

far surpassed in the fatal consequences, the misfortune which Rome had

formerly sustained in the fields of Cannæ.

The pride of the Goths was elated by this memorable victory; but their

avarice was disappointed by the mortifying discovery that the richest

part of the imperial spoil had been within the walls of Hadrianopolis.

They hastened to possess the reward of their valour; but they were

encountered by the remains of a vanquished army, with an intrepid

resolution which was the effect of their despair and the only hope of

their safety. The walls of the city, and the ramparts of the adjacent

camp, were lined with military engines, that threw stones of an enormous

weight, and astonished the ignorant barbarians by the noise and velocity,

still more than by the real effects, of the discharge. The soldiers,

the citizens, the provincials, the domestics of the palace were united

in the danger and in the defence; the furious assault of the Goths was

repulsed; their secret arts of treachery and treason were discovered;

and, after an obstinate conflict of many hours, they retired to their

tents; convinced, by experience, that it would be far more advisable to

observe the treaty which their sagacious leader had tacitly stipulated

with the fortifications of great and populous cities. After the hasty

and impolitic massacre of three hundred deserters, an act of justice

extremely useful to the discipline of the Roman armies, the Goths

indignantly raised the siege of Hadrianopolis. The scene of war and

tumult was instantly converted into a silent solitude: the multitude

suddenly disappeared; the secret paths of the woods and mountains were

marked with the footsteps of the trembling fugitives, who sought a refuge

in the distant cities of Illyricum and Macedonia; and the faithful

officers of the household and the treasury cautiously proceeded in

search of the emperor, of whose death they were still ignorant. The tide

of the Gothic inundation rolled from the walls of Hadrianopolis to the

suburbs of Constantinople.

The barbarians were surprised with the splendid appearance of the

capital of the East, the height and extent of the walls, the myriads of

wealthy and affrighted citizens who crowded the ramparts, the various

prospect of the sea and land. While they gazed with hopeless desire on

the inaccessible beauties of Constantinople, a sally was made from one

of the gates by a party of Saracens, who had been fortunately engaged in

the service of Valens. The cavalry of Scythia was forced to yield to the

admirable swiftness and spirit of the Arabian horses; their riders were

skilled in the evolutions of irregular war, and the northern barbarians

were astonished and dismayed by the inhuman ferocity of the barbarians of

the south. A Gothic soldier was slain by the dagger of an Arab; and the

hairy, naked savage, applying his lips to the wound, expressed a horrid

delight while he sucked the blood of his vanquished enemy. The army of

the Goths, laden with the spoils of the wealthy suburbs and the adjacent

territory, slowly moved from the Bosporus to the mountains which form the

western boundary of Thrace. The important pass of Succi was betrayed by

the fear, or the misconduct, of Maurus; and the barbarians, who no longer

had any resistance to apprehend from the scattered and vanquished troops

of the east, spread themselves over the face of a fertile and cultivated

country, as far as the confines of Italy and the Adriatic Sea.[b]

[Sidenote: [378-382 A.D.]]

Gratian, more fortunate, at the same time defeated the Alamanni near

Colmar. But the Eastern Empire was without a head. Gratian could not

think of adding this heavy crown to that which he already wore, and to

help him in the difficult task of repairing the great catastrophe under

which the nation groaned, he cast his eyes on Theodosius, son of the

valiant count Theodosius.

THEODOSIUS NAMED AUGUSTUS

After his father’s unhappy end Theodosius had retired to Spain, his

native country. Gratian recalled him, and on the Jan. 19, 379, gave

him the title of Augustus and the two prefectures of the East and of

Illyricum. Theodosius set to work bravely. Asia was quiet, thanks to an

atrocious measure. All the Goths sent as hostages into the provinces

had been convoked on the same day in the chief cities to receive gifts

in money and land. But troops awaited them there; taken by surprise

and defenceless, they had been massacred. In Thrace their brothers and

fathers were avenging them. Theodosius had to reform an army, and, above

all, to raise the courage of the soldiers. He succeeded in so doing

by giving them the opportunity of fighting a great many small battles

wherein he was careful to insure their success. These were the old

tactics of Fabius Cunctator against Hannibal; and in this case they were

even more successful. He allowed no stronghold to fall into the hands of

the enemy, whose numbers he diminished by provoking desertions, so that,

without gaining a great victory, he brought the Goths to treat.

[Sidenote: [382-388 A.D.]]

Fritigern, the conqueror of Hadrianopolis, was dead; the gallant

Athanaric, his successor, had allowed himself to be allured to

Constantinople, and there, dazzled by the brilliance of the gorgeous

court, he persuaded his people to accept the emperor’s offers (October,

382). Theodosius, as a matter of fact, gave them what they wanted. He

settled them in Thrace and Mœsia, with the charge of defending the

passage of the Danube. Forty thousand warriors of the Goths were enrolled

among the imperial troops.

This was really to deliver the empire into their hands; for these

Goths--remaining a national body under their national leaders, with a

military organisation of their own--soon felt the instincts of pillage

and the need of adventure reawaken in them. A few years more, and they

would take Rome after ravaging Greece and Italy, and the war they would

thus carry to the very heart of the empire would level the barriers over

which this flood of invasion was destined to pass.

For the time being, however, Theodosius had put an end to a deplorable

situation, and the empire, believing itself saved, showed its gratitude.

Those sad events of which the West was the scene, and which would lead

to a reunion of the whole empire of Augustus under his authority, for a

while increased his renown. The church, above all, delivered by him from

Arianism, looked upon him as a second Constantine, and the epithet of

“the great” has remained joined to the name of the last master of the

Roman world.

Gratian, active, intelligent, and brave, was nevertheless overthrown by

a usurper. Passionately fond of hunting, he forgot his princely duties,

and was now usually seen surrounded by Alan archers. This preference

irritated the soldiers, and the British legions proclaimed their chief,

Maximus, one of the able comrades of Count Theodosius, emperor. Maximus

immediately marched into Gaul. Gratian, abandoned by his troops, tried

to reach the Alps, but, being overtaken near Lyons, he was put to death

(August 25, 383). For this expedition Maximus had withdrawn the legions

from Britain. The island, left defenceless, was soon desolated by the

inroads of the Picts and Scots, and by the invasions of Saxons and

Frisians.

Theodosius would gladly have avenged his benefactor, but tranquillity was

not yet restored in the East, and a civil war might have lost all. He

recognised the usurper as master of the Gallic prefecture on condition

that he should leave that of Italy to the young Valentinian II (385). The

latter’s mother, Justina, in her zeal for Arianism, sought to propagate

heresy in her son’s provinces, which were by no means favourably disposed

towards it. At Mediolanum the opposition was very strong. She tried to

overcome it by threatening to exile Saint Ambrose, the archbishop, but

the people repulsed her barbarian guards. Maximus thought the occasion

favourable. He crossed the Alps, and Valentinian II fled (387) to

Theodosius at Thessalonica.

This prince had already declared himself strongly opposed to the Arians.

As early as the year 380 he had received baptism, had promulgated

edicts in favour of orthodoxy, and expelled Damophilus, patriarch of

Constantinople, from his see, which was given to Gregory of Nazianzus. A

council which met in Constantinople (381) condemned the heresy afresh and

confirmed the Nicene creed. Justina owed her misfortunes to her zeal for

Arianism, but Theodosius had married her daughter, the beautiful Galla,

so the empress, despite her imprudence, could count on the support of her

son-in-law. He hesitated, however, for nearly a year until he learned

that Maximus by his harshness had stirred up all the Italians against

him.

[Illustration: THEODOSIUS FORBIDDEN THE TEMPLE BY SAINT AMBROSE]

[Sidenote: [388-395 A.D.]]

Theodosius entered Pannonia in the year 388, and made a diversion in Gaul

by means of the Saxons and Franks. Maximus used the same weapons against

him and tampered with the fidelity of his barbaric troops. Dangerous

defections would have ensued had he not anticipated them by severe

measures. The usurper, vanquished on the banks of the Save, was given

up by his own soldiers and put to death in Aquileia. Theodosius kept no

part of his conquest, but gave it up to Valentinian. To confirm the young

prince’s power and extirpate both heresy and the last remains of paganism

which yet lingered in the Western provinces, he stayed three years in his

brother-in-law’s province. On his departure he gave him as chief minister

Arbogast the Frank, who had just delivered Gaul from the Germans, and

filled all offices, civil and military, with barbarians. Valentinian did

not long endure this guardianship; he wished to deprive the count of

all his offices. “I hold my charge from Theodosius,” answered Arbogast

before the whole court, “he alone can take it from me.” Valentinian, in a

violent rage, threw himself upon Arbogast, sword in hand. Some days after

he was found dead (May 15, 392).

[Illustration: THE PALATINE, ROME]

Arbogast could not hope that Theodosius would leave this murder

unpunished. Not daring to proclaim himself emperor, he threw the purple

robe on the shoulders of an imperial secretary, the rhetorician Eugenius.

Theodosius, the avenger of orthodoxy, had the Catholic clergy on his

side. Arbogast and Eugenius tried to rally to their cause all that were

left of the pagans. This conduct raised the Christian population against

them. A single battle, near Aquileia, put an end to this rule. Eugenius,

being taken prisoner, was put to death; Arbogast slew himself (394). This

time the victor retained his conquests.

This victory redoubled Theodosius’ zeal for orthodoxy. He forbade, under

severe penalties, the worship of the gods, who, driven from the towns,

took refuge amongst the country people (_pagani_), and he deprived

heretics not only of all claim to honours but of the right of disposing

of their property. On the other hand, numerous and wise regulations

showed the monarch’s constant preoccupation with remedies for some of

the evils which were harassing this moribund social order. He could

not succeed, for the ills were incurable, but at least he did honour

to the last days of the empire by displaying such virtue on the throne

as subjects rarely had been called upon to reverence. We have seen his

disinterestedness and his gratitude to his benefactor’s family; let us

add that peace always reigned in his numerous family--that if he retained

courtiers he also had friends.

Before his death (January 17, 395) he divided the empire between his two

sons Arcadius and Honorius; an irrevocable separation which still endures

in the different religion and civilisation of these two halves of the

ancient world.

One great act does Theodosius honour. The people of Thessalonica had

killed the governor and several imperial officers in a sedition. Under

similar circumstances Theodosius had pardoned the people of Antioch

(387). This time he fell into a violent rage and gave orders which cost

the lives of seven thousand persons. This massacre excited a feeling of

horror throughout the empire. When, some time after, Theodosius presented

himself at the doors of Milan cathedral, St. Ambrose had the courage

to stop him. Before all the crowd he reproached him for his crime,

forbidding him to enter or approach the Holy Table. Theodosius accepted

the public penance which the bishop imposed upon him in the name of God

and outraged humanity. For eight months he never crossed the threshold of

the church.[c]

VIRTUES OF THEODOSIUS

The orator, who may be silent without danger, may praise without

difficulty and without reluctance; and posterity will confess that the

character of Theodosius might furnish the subject of a sincere and ample

panegyric. The wisdom of his laws and the success of his arms rendered

his administration respectable in the eyes both of his subjects and

of his enemies. He loved and practised the virtues of domestic life,

which seldom hold their residence in the palaces of kings. Theodosius

was chaste and temperate; he enjoyed, without excess, the sensual and

social pleasures of the table; and the warmth of his amorous passions

was never diverted from their lawful objects. The proud titles of

imperial greatness were adorned by the tender names of a faithful

husband, an indulgent father; his uncle was raised, by his affectionate

esteem, to the rank of a second parent. Theodosius embraced, as his

own, the children of his brother and sister; and the expressions of his

regard were extended to the most distant and obscure branches of his

numerous kindred. His familiar friends were judiciously selected from

among those persons who, in the equal intercourse of private life, had

appeared before his eyes without a mask. The consciousness of personal

and superior merit enabled him to despise the accidental distinction of

the purple; and he proved, by his conduct, that he had forgotten all

the injuries, while he most gratefully remembered all the 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 subjects whom he admitted into his society;

and the affability of his manners displayed the image of his mind.

Theodosius respected the simplicity of the good and virtuous; every art,

every talent, of a useful or even of an innocent nature, was rewarded by

his judicious liberality; and, except the heretics, whom he persecuted

with implacable hatred, the diffusive circle of his benevolence was

circumscribed only by the limits of the human race. The government of a

mighty empire may assuredly suffice to occupy the time and the abilities

of a mortal; yet the diligent prince, without aspiring to the unsuitable

reputation of profound learning, always reserved some moments of his

leisure for the instructive amusement of reading. History, which enlarged

his experience, was his favourite study. The annals of Rome, in the

long period of eleven hundred years, presented him with a various and

splendid picture of human life; and it has been particularly observed

that whenever he perused the cruel acts of Cinna, of Marius, or of Sulla,

he warmly expressed his generous detestation of those enemies of humanity

and freedom. His disinterested opinion of past events was usefully

applied as the rule of his own actions; and Theodosius has deserved the

singular commendation, that his virtues always seemed to expand with his

fortune. The season of his prosperity was that of his moderation; and

his clemency appeared the most conspicuous after the danger and success

of 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 punishment of the law. But the emperor showed

himself much more attentive to relieve the innocent than to chastise

the guilty. The oppressed subjects of the West, who would have deemed

themselves happy in the restoration of their lands, were astonished to

receive a sum of money equivalent to their losses; and the liberality of

the conqueror supported the aged mother and educated the orphan daughters

of Maximus. A character thus accomplished might almost excuse the

extravagant supposition of the orator Pacatus that if the elder Brutus

could be permitted to revisit the earth, the stern republican would

abjure, at the feet of Theodosius, his hatred of kings; and ingenuously

confess that such a monarch was the most faithful guardian of the

happiness and dignity of the Roman people.

Yet the piercing eye of the founder of the republic must have discerned

two essential imperfections, which might perhaps have abated his recent

love of despotism. The virtuous mind of Theodosius was often relaxed by

indolence, and it was sometimes inflamed by passion. In the pursuit of

an important object, his active courage was capable of the most vigorous

exertions; but, as soon as the design was accomplished or the danger was

surmounted, the hero sunk into inglorious repose; and, forgetful that

the time of a prince is the property of his people, resigned himself

to the enjoyment of the innocent but trifling pleasures of a luxurious

court. The natural disposition of Theodosius was hasty and choleric;

and, in a station where none could resist and few would dissuade the

fatal consequence of his resentment, the humane monarch was justly

alarmed by the consciousness of his infirmity and of his power. It was

the constant study of his life to suppress or regulate the intemperate

sallies of passion; and the success of his efforts enhanced the merit of

his clemency. But the painful virtue which claims the merit of victory

is exposed to the danger of defeat; and the reign of a wise and merciful

prince was polluted by an act of cruelty which would stain the annals

of Nero or Domitian. Within the space of three years, the inconsistent

historian of Theodosius must relate the generous pardon of the citizens

of Antioch and the inhuman massacre of the people of Thessalonica.

TUMULT IN ANTIOCH

[Sidenote: [387 A.D.]]

The lively impatience of the inhabitants of Antioch was never satisfied

with their own situation, or with the character and conduct of their

successive sovereigns. The Arian subjects of Theodosius deplored the loss

of their churches; and, as three rival bishops disputed the throne of

Antioch, the sentence which decided their pretensions excited the murmurs

of the two unsuccessful congregations. The exigencies of the Gothic

War, and the inevitable expense that accompanied the conclusion of the

peace, had constrained the emperor to aggravate the weight of the public

impositions; and the provinces of Asia, as they had not been involved

in the distress were the less inclined to contribute to the relief of

Europe. The auspicious period now approached of the tenth year of his

reign; a festival more grateful to the soldiers, who received a liberal

donative, than to the subjects, whose voluntary offerings had been long

since converted into an extraordinary and oppressive burden. The edicts

of taxation interrupted the repose and pleasures of Antioch; and the

tribunal of the magistrate was besieged by a suppliant crowd, who, in

pathetic but at first in respectful language, solicited the redress of

their grievances. They were gradually incensed by the pride of their

haughty rulers, who treated their complaints as a criminal resistance;

their satirical wit degenerated into sharp and angry invectives; and,

from the subordinate powers of government, the invectives of the people

insensibly rose to attack the sacred character of the emperor himself.

[Illustration: ROMAN ARMS]

Their fury, provoked by a feeble opposition, discharged itself on the

images of the imperial family, erected, as objects of public veneration,

in the most conspicuous places of the city. The statues of Theodosius, of

his father, of his wife Flaccilla, of his two sons Arcadius and Honorius,

were insolently thrown down from their pedestals, broken in pieces, or

dragged with contempt through the streets; and the indignities which

were offered to the representations of imperial majesty sufficiently

declared the impious and treasonable wishes of the populace. The tumult

was almost immediately suppressed by the arrival of a body of archers;

and Antioch had leisure to reflect on the nature and consequences of

her crime. According to the duty of his office, the governor of the

province despatched a faithful narrative of the whole transaction; while

the trembling citizens entrusted the confession of their crime and the

assurances of their repentance to the zeal of Flavian their bishop, and

to the eloquence of the senator Hilarius, the friend and most probably

the disciple of Libanius, whose genius, on this melancholy occasion,

was not useless to his country. But the two capitals, Antioch and

Constantinople, were separated by the distance of eight hundred miles;

and, notwithstanding the diligence of the imperial posts, the guilty

city was severely punished by a long and dreadful interval of suspense.

Every 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, many of whom were actually driven, by their apprehensions,

to seek a refuge in the mountains of Syria and the adjacent desert. At

length, twenty-four days after the sedition, the general Hellebicus,

and Cæsarius, master of the offices, declared the will of the emperor

and the sentence of Antioch. That proud capital was degraded from the

rank of a city; and the metropolis of the East, stripped of its lands,

its privileges, and its revenues, was subjected, under the humiliating

denomination of a village, to the jurisdiction of Laodicea.

The baths, the circus, and the theatres were shut; and, that every

source of plenty and pleasure might at the same time be intercepted,

the distribution of corn was abolished, by the severe instructions of

Theodosius. His commissioners then proceeded to inquire into the guilt

of individuals; of those who had perpetrated, and of those who had

not prevented, the destruction of the sacred statues. The tribunal of

Hellebicus and Cæsarius, encompassed with armed soldiers, was erected in

the midst of the Forum. The noblest and most wealthy of the citizens of

Antioch, appeared before them in chains; the examination was assisted

by the use of torture, and their sentence was pronounced or suspended

according to the judgment of these extraordinary magistrates. The houses

of the criminals were exposed to sale, their wives and children were

suddenly reduced from affluence and luxury to the most abject distress;

and a bloody execution was expected to conclude the horrors of a day,

which the preacher of Antioch, the eloquent Chrysostom, has represented

as a lively image of the last and universal judgment of the world.

But the ministers of Theodosius performed, with reluctance, the cruel

task which had been assigned them; they dropped a gentle tear over

the calamities of the people; and they listened with reverence to the

pressing solicitations of the monks and hermits, who descended in swarms

from the mountains. Hellebicus and Cæsarius were persuaded to suspend the

execution of their sentence; and it was agreed that the former should

remain at Antioch, while the latter returned, with all possible speed,

to Constantinople, and presumed once more to consult the will of his

sovereign.

The resentment of Theodosius had already subsided; the deputies of

the people, both the bishop and the orator, had obtained a favourable

audience; and the reproaches of the emperor were the complaints of

injured friendship, rather than the stern menaces of pride and power.

A free and general pardon was granted to the city and citizens of

Antioch; the prison-doors were thrown open; the senators who despaired

of their lives recovered the possession of their houses and estates; and

the capital of the East was restored to the enjoyment of her ancient

dignity and splendour. Theodosius condescended to praise the senate

of Constantinople, who had generously interceded for their distressed

brethren; he rewarded the eloquence of Hilarius with the government

of Palestine, and dismissed the bishop of Antioch with the warmest

expressions of his respect and gratitude. A thousand new statues arose to

the clemency of Theodosius; the applause of his subjects was ratified by

the approbation of his own heart; and the emperor confessed that, if the

exercise of justice is the most important duty, the indulgence of mercy

is the most exquisite pleasure of a sovereign.

THE SEDITION OF THESSALONICA

[Sidenote: [387-390 A.D.]]

The sedition of Thessalonica is ascribed to a more shameful cause, and

was productive of much more dreadful consequences. That great city,

the metropolis of all the Illyrian provinces, had been protected from

the dangers of the Gothic war by strong fortifications and a numerous

garrison. Botheric, the general of those troops, and, as it should

seem from his name, a barbarian, had among his slaves a beautiful

boy, who excited the impure desires of one of the charioteers of the

circus. The insolent and brutal lover was thrown into prison by the

order of Botheric; and he sternly rejected the importunate clamours

of the multitude, who, on the day of the public games, lamented the

absence of their favourite, and considered the skill of a charioteer

as an object of more importance than his virtue. The resentment of the

people was imbittered by some previous disputes; and, as the strength

of the garrison had been drawn away for the service of the Italian War,

the feeble remnant, whose numbers were reduced by desertion, could

not save the unhappy general from their licentious fury. Botheric,

and several of his principal officers, were inhumanly murdered: their

mangled bodies were dragged about the streets; and the emperor, who

then resided at Mediolanum, was surprised by the intelligence of the

audacious and wanton cruelty of the people of Thessalonica. The sentence

of a dispassionate judge would have inflicted a severe punishment on

the authors of the crime; and the merit of Botheric might contribute

to exasperate the grief and indignation of his master. The fiery and

choleric temper of Theodosius was impatient of the dilatory forms of

a judicial inquiry; and he hastily resolved that the blood of his

lieutenant should be expiated by the blood of the guilty people.

Yet his mind still fluctuated between the counsels of clemency and of

revenge; the zeal of the bishops had almost extorted from the reluctant

emperor the promise of a general pardon; his passion was again inflamed

by the flattering suggestions of his minister, Rufinus; and, after

Theodosius had despatched the messengers of death, he attempted, too

late, to prevent the execution of his orders. The punishment of a

Roman city was blindly committed to the undistinguishing sword of the

barbarians; and the hostile preparations were concerted with the dark and

perfidious artifice of an illegal conspiracy. The people of Thessalonica

were treacherously invited, in the name of their sovereign, to the games

of the circus; and such was their insatiate avidity for those amusements

that every consideration of fear, or suspicion, was disregarded by the

numerous spectators. As soon as the assembly was complete, the soldiers,

who had been secretly posted round the circus, received the signal, not

of the races but of a general massacre. The promiscuous carnage continued

three hours, without discrimination of strangers or natives, of age or

sex, of innocence or guilt; the most moderate accounts state the number

of the slain at seven thousand; and it is affirmed by some writers that

more than fifteen thousand victims were sacrificed to the manes of

Botheric. A foreign merchant, who had probably no concern in his murder,

offered his own life, and all his wealth, to supply the place of one of

his two sons; but, while the father hesitated with equal tenderness,

while he was doubtful to choose and unwilling to condemn, the soldiers

determined his suspense by plunging their daggers at the same moment

into the breasts of the defenceless youths. The apology of the assassins

that they were obliged to produce the prescribed number of heads, serves

only to increase, by an appearance of order and design, the horrors of

the massacre, which was executed by the commands of Theodosius. The

guilt of the emperor is aggravated by his long and frequent residence

at Thessalonica. The situation of the unfortunate city, the aspect of

the streets and buildings, the dress and faces of the inhabitants, were

familiar, and even present to his imagination; and Theodosius possessed a

quick and lively sense of the existence of the people whom he destroyed.

THEODOSIUS AND AMBROSE

The respectful attachment of the emperor for the orthodox clergy had

disposed him to love and admire the character of Ambrose, who united

all the episcopal virtues in the most eminent degree. The friends and

ministers of Theodosius imitated the example of their sovereign; and

he observed, with more surprise than displeasure, that all his secret

counsels were immediately communicated to the archbishop, who acted from

the laudable persuasion that every measure of civil government may have

some connection with the glory of God and the interests of the true

religion. The monks and populace of Callinicum, an obscure town on the

frontier of Persia, excited by their own fanaticism and by that of their

bishop, had tumultuously burned a conventicle of the Valentinians and a

synagogue of the Jews.

The seditious prelate was condemned, by the magistrate of the province,

either to rebuild the synagogue or to repay the damage; this moderate

sentence was confirmed by the emperor. But it was not confirmed by the

archbishop of Milan. He dictated an epistle of censure and reproach, more

suitable, perhaps, if the emperor had received the mark of circumcision

and renounced the faith of his baptism. Ambrose considers the toleration

of the Jewish, as the persecution of the Christian, religion; boldly

declares that he himself, and every true believer, would eagerly dispute

with the bishop of Callinicum the merit of the deed, and the crown of

martyrdom; and laments in the most pathetic terms that the execution of

the sentence would be fatal to the fame and salvation of Theodosius.

As this private admonition did not produce an immediate effect, the

archbishop, from his pulpit, publicly addressed the emperor on his

throne; nor would he consent to offer the oblation of the altar, till

he had obtained from Theodosius a solemn and positive declaration,

which secured the impunity of the bishop and monks of Callinicum. The

recantation of Theodosius was sincere; and during the term of his

residence at Milan his affection for Ambrose was continually increased by

the habits of pious and familiar conversation.

When Ambrose was informed of the massacre of Thessalonica, his mind was

filled with horror and anguish. He retired into the country to indulge

his grief, and to avoid the presence of Theodosius. But as the archbishop

was satisfied that a timid silence would render him the accomplice of his

guilt, he represented, in a private letter, the enormity of the crime;

which could only be effaced by the tears of penitence. The episcopal

vigour of Ambrose was tempered by prudence; and he contented himself with

signifying an indirect sort of excommunication, by the assurance that

he had been warned in a vision not to offer the oblation in the name or

in the presence of Theodosius; and by the advice that he would confine

himself to the use of prayer, without presuming to approach the altar of

Christ, or to receive the Holy Eucharist with those hands that were still

polluted with the blood of an innocent people. The emperor was deeply

affected by his own reproaches and by those of his spiritual father;

and, after he had bewailed the mischievous and irreparable consequences

of his rash fury, he proceeded, in the accustomed manner, to perform his

devotions in the great church of Milan.

He was stopped in the porch by the archbishop, who, in the tone and

language of an ambassador of heaven, declared to his sovereign that

private contrition was not sufficient to atone for a public fault, or to

appease the justice of the offended Deity. Theodosius humbly represented

that, if he had contracted the guilt of homicide, David, the man after

God’s own heart, had been guilty, not only of murder but of adultery.

“You have imitated David in his crime, imitate then his repentance,” was

the reply of the undaunted Ambrose. The rigorous conditions of peace and

pardon were accepted; and the public penance of the emperor Theodosius

has been recorded as one of the most honourable events in the annals of

the Church. According to the mildest rules of ecclesiastical discipline,

which were established in the fourth century, the crime of homicide was

expiated by the penitence of twenty years; and as it was impossible, in

the period of human life, to purge the accumulated guilt of the massacre

of Thessalonica, the murderer should have been excluded from the Holy

Communion till the hour of his death. But the archbishop, consulting

the maxims of religious policy, granted some indulgence to the rank

of his illustrious penitent, who humbled in the dust the pride of the

diadem; and the public edification might be admitted as a weighty reason

to abridge the duration of his punishment. It was sufficient that the

emperor of the Romans, stripped of the ensigns of royalty, should appear

in a mournful and suppliant posture; and that, in the midst of the church

of Milan, he should humbly solicit, with sighs and tears, the pardon of

his sins.

LAST DAYS OF THEODOSIUS

[Sidenote: [390-395 A.D.]]

After the defeat and death of the tyrant of Gaul, the Roman world was

in the possession of Theodosius. He derived from the choice of Gratian

his 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 Valentinian. The name of Valentinian was

regularly inserted in the public acts; but the tender age and doubtful

faith of the son of Justina appeared to require the prudent care of an

orthodox guardian; and his specious ambition might have excluded the

unfortunate youth, without a struggle, and almost without a murmur, from

the administration, and even from the inheritance, of the empire. If

Theodosius had consulted the rigid maxims of interest and policy, his

conduct would have been justified by his friends; but the generosity of

his 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. Satisfied with the glory which he had acquired, by revenging

the death of his benefactor and delivering the West from the yoke of

tyranny, the emperor returned from Milan to Constantinople; and, in the

peaceful possession of the East, insensibly relapsed into his former

habits of luxury and indolence. Theodosius discharged his obligation

to the brother, he indulged his conjugal tenderness to the sister of

Valentinian; and posterity, which admires the pure and singular glory

of his elevation, must applaud his unrivalled generosity in the use of

victory.[b]

FOOTNOTES

[62] Eunapius celebrates and exaggerates the sufferings of Maximus, yet

he allows that this sophist or magician, the guilty favourite of Julian

and the personal enemy of Valentinian, was dismissed on the payment of a

small fine.

[63] [Salzbach according to Duruy.]

[Illustration]