The Reign Of Diocletian And His Three Associates, Maximian, Galerius,

And Constantius.—General Reestablishment Of Order And Tranquillity.—The

Persian War, Victory, And Triumph.—The New Form Of

Administration.—Abdication And Retirement Of Diocletian And Maximian.

As the reign of Diocletian was more illustrious than that of any

of his predecessors, so was his birth more abject and obscure.

The strong claims of merit and of violence had frequently

superseded the ideal prerogatives of nobility; but a distinct

line of separation was hitherto preserved between the free and

the servile part of mankind. The parents of Diocletian had been

slaves in the house of Anulinus, a Roman senator; nor was he

himself distinguished by any other name than that which he

derived from a small town in Dalmatia, from whence his mother

deduced her origin. It is, however, probable that his father

obtained the freedom of the family, and that he soon acquired an

office of scribe, which was commonly exercised by persons of his

condition. Favorable oracles, or rather the consciousness of

superior merit, prompted his aspiring son to pursue the

profession of arms and the hopes of fortune; and it would be

extremely curious to observe the gradation of arts and accidents

which enabled him in the end to fulfil those oracles, and to

display that merit to the world. Diocletian was successively

promoted to the government of Mæsia, the honors of the

consulship, and the important command of the guards of the

palace. He distinguished his abilities in the Persian war; and

after the death of Numerian, the slave, by the confession and

judgment of his rivals, was declared the most worthy of the

Imperial throne. The malice of religious zeal, whilst it arraigns

the savage fierceness of his colleague Maximian, has affected to

cast suspicions on the personal courage of the emperor

Diocletian. It would not be easy to persuade us of the cowardice

of a soldier of fortune, who acquired and preserved the esteem of

the legions as well as the favor of so many warlike princes. Yet

even calumny is sagacious enough to discover and to attack the

most vulnerable part. The valor of Diocletian was never found

inadequate to his duty, or to the occasion; but he appears not to

have possessed the daring and generous spirit of a hero, who

courts danger and fame, disdains artifice, and boldly challenges

the allegiance of his equals. His abilities were useful rather

than splendid; a vigorous mind, improved by the experience and

study of mankind; dexterity and application in business; a

judicious mixture of liberality and economy, of mildness and

rigor; profound dissimulation, under the disguise of military

frankness; steadiness to pursue his ends; flexibility to vary his

means; and, above all, the great art of submitting his own

passions, as well as those of others, to the interest of his

ambition, and of coloring his ambition with the most specious

pretences of justice and public utility. Like Augustus,

Diocletian may be considered as the founder of a new empire. Like

the adopted son of Cæsar, he was distinguished as a statesman

rather than as a warrior; nor did either of those princes employ

force, whenever their purpose could be effected by policy.

The victory of Diocletian was remarkable for its singular

mildness. A people accustomed to applaud the clemency of the

conqueror, if the usual punishments of death, exile, and

confiscation, were inflicted with any degree of temper and

equity, beheld, with the most pleasing astonishment, a civil war,

the flames of which were extinguished in the field of battle.

Diocletian received into his confidence Aristobulus, the

principal minister of the house of Carus, respected the lives,

the fortunes, and the dignity, of his adversaries, and even

continued in their respective stations the greater number of the

servants of Carinus. It is not improbable that motives of

prudence might assist the humanity of the artful Dalmatian; of

these servants, many had purchased his favor by secret treachery;

in others, he esteemed their grateful fidelity to an unfortunate

master. The discerning judgment of Aurelian, of Probus, and of

Carus, had filled the several departments of the state and army

with officers of approved merit, whose removal would have injured

the public service, without promoting the interest of his

successor. Such a conduct, however, displayed to the Roman world

the fairest prospect of the new reign, and the emperor affected

to confirm this favorable prepossession, by declaring, that,

among all the virtues of his predecessors, he was the most

ambitious of imitating the humane philosophy of Marcus Antoninus.

The first considerable action of his reign seemed to evince his

sincerity as well as his moderation. After the example of Marcus,

he gave himself a colleague in the person of Maximian, on whom he

bestowed at first the title of Cæsar, and afterwards that of

Augustus. But the motives of his conduct, as well as the object

of his choice, were of a very different nature from those of his

admired predecessor. By investing a luxurious youth with the

honors of the purple, Marcus had discharged a debt of private

gratitude, at the expense, indeed, of the happiness of the state.

By associating a friend and a fellow-soldier to the labors of

government, Diocletian, in a time of public danger, provided for

the defence both of the East and of the West. Maximian was born a

peasant, and, like Aurelian, in the territory of Sirmium.

Ignorant of letters, careless of laws, the rusticity of his

appearance and manners still betrayed in the most elevated

fortune the meanness of his extraction. War was the only art

which he professed. In a long course of service he had

distinguished himself on every frontier of the empire; and though

his military talents were formed to obey rather than to command,

though, perhaps, he never attained the skill of a consummate

general, he was capable, by his valor, constancy, and experience,

of executing the most arduous undertakings. Nor were the vices of

Maximian less useful to his benefactor. Insensible to pity, and

fearless of consequences, he was the ready instrument of every

act of cruelty which the policy of that artful prince might at

once suggest and disclaim. As soon as a bloody sacrifice had been

offered to prudence or to revenge, Diocletian, by his seasonable

intercession, saved the remaining few whom he had never designed

to punish, gently censured the severity of his stern colleague,

and enjoyed the comparison of a golden and an iron age, which was

universally applied to their opposite maxims of government.

Notwithstanding the difference of their characters, the two

emperors maintained, on the throne, that friendship which they

had contracted in a private station. The haughty, turbulent

spirit of Maximian, so fatal, afterwards, to himself and to the

public peace, was accustomed to respect the genius of Diocletian,

and confessed the ascendant of reason over brutal violence. From

a motive either of pride or superstition, the two emperors

assumed the titles, the one of Jovius, the other of Herculius.

Whilst the motion of the world (such was the language of their

venal orators) was maintained by the all-seeing wisdom of

Jupiter, the invincible arm of Hercules purged the earth from

monsters and tyrants.

But even the omnipotence of Jovius and Herculius was insufficient

to sustain the weight of the public administration. The prudence

of Diocletian discovered that the empire, assailed on every side

by the barbarians, required on every side the presence of a great

army, and of an emperor. With this view, he resolved once more to

divide his unwieldy power, and with the inferior title of Cæsars,

* to confer on two generals of approved merit an unequal share of

the sovereign authority. Galerius, surnamed Armentarius, from his

original profession of a herdsman, and Constantius, who from his

pale complexion had acquired the denomination of Chlorus, were

the two persons invested with the second honors of the Imperial

purple. In describing the country, extraction, and manners of

Herculius, we have already delineated those of Galerius, who was

often, and not improperly, styled the younger Maximian, though,

in many instances both of virtue and ability, he appears to have

possessed a manifest superiority over the elder. The birth of

Constantius was less obscure than that of his colleagues.

Eutropius, his father, was one of the most considerable nobles of

Dardania, and his mother was the niece of the emperor Claudius.

Although the youth of Constantius had been spent in arms, he was

endowed with a mild and amiable disposition, and the popular

voice had long since acknowledged him worthy of the rank which he

at last attained. To strengthen the bonds of political, by those

of domestic, union, each of the emperors assumed the character of

a father to one of the Cæsars, Diocletian to Galerius, and

Maximian to Constantius; and each, obliging them to repudiate

their former wives, bestowed his daughter in marriage or his

adopted son. These four princes distributed among themselves the

wide extent of the Roman empire. The defence of Gaul, Spain, and

Britain, was intrusted to Constantius: Galerius was stationed on

the banks of the Danube, as the safeguard of the Illyrian

provinces. Italy and Africa were considered as the department of

Maximian; and for his peculiar portion, Diocletian reserved

Thrace, Egypt, and the rich countries of Asia. Every one was

sovereign with his own jurisdiction; but their united authority

extended over the whole monarchy, and each of them was prepared

to assist his colleagues with his counsels or presence. The

Cæsars, in their exalted rank, revered the majesty of the

emperors, and the three younger princes invariably acknowledged,

by their gratitude and obedience, the common parent of their

fortunes. The suspicious jealousy of power found not any place

among them; and the singular happiness of their union has been

compared to a chorus of music, whose harmony was regulated and

maintained by the skilful hand of the first artist.

This important measure was not carried into execution till about

six years after the association of Maximian, and that interval of

time had not been destitute of memorable incidents. But we have

preferred, for the sake of perspicuity, first to describe the

more perfect form of Diocletian’s government, and afterwards to

relate the actions of his reign, following rather the natural

order of the events, than the dates of a very doubtful

chronology.

The first exploit of Maximian, though it is mentioned in a few

words by our imperfect writers, deserves, from its singularity,

to be recorded in a history of human manners. He suppressed the

peasants of Gaul, who, under the appellation of Bagaudæ, had

risen in a general insurrection; very similar to those which in

the fourteenth century successively afflicted both France and

England. It should seem that very many of those institutions,

referred by an easy solution to the feudal system, are derived

from the Celtic barbarians. When Cæsar subdued the Gauls, that

great nation was already divided into three orders of men; the

clergy, the nobility, and the common people. The first governed

by superstition, the second by arms, but the third and last was

not of any weight or account in their public councils. It was

very natural for the plebeians, oppressed by debt, or

apprehensive of injuries, to implore the protection of some

powerful chief, who acquired over their persons and property the

same absolute right as, among the Greeks and Romans, a master

exercised over his slaves. The greatest part of the nation was

gradually reduced into a state of servitude; compelled to

perpetual labor on the estates of the Gallic nobles, and confined

to the soil, either by the real weight of fetters, or by the no

less cruel and forcible restraints of the laws. During the long

series of troubles which agitated Gaul, from the reign of

Gallienus to that of Diocletian, the condition of these servile

peasants was peculiarly miserable; and they experienced at once

the complicated tyranny of their masters, of the barbarians, of

the soldiers, and of the officers of the revenue.

Their patience was at last provoked into despair. On every side

they rose in multitudes, armed with rustic weapons, and with

irresistible fury. The ploughman became a foot soldier, the

shepherd mounted on horseback, the deserted villages and open

towns were abandoned to the flames, and the ravages of the

peasants equalled those of the fiercest barbarians. They asserted

the natural rights of men, but they asserted those rights with

the most savage cruelty. The Gallic nobles, justly dreading their

revenge, either took refuge in the fortified cities, or fled from

the wild scene of anarchy. The peasants reigned without control;

and two of their most daring leaders had the folly and rashness

to assume the Imperial ornaments. Their power soon expired at the

approach of the legions. The strength of union and discipline

obtained an easy victory over a licentious and divided multitude.

A severe retaliation was inflicted on the peasants who were found

in arms; the affrighted remnant returned to their respective

habitations, and their unsuccessful effort for freedom served

only to confirm their slavery. So strong and uniform is the

current of popular passions, that we might almost venture, from

very scanty materials, to relate the particulars of this war; but

we are not disposed to believe that the principal leaders,

Ælianus and Amandus, were Christians, or to insinuate, that the

rebellion, as it happened in the time of Luther, was occasioned

by the abuse of those benevolent principles of Christianity,

which inculcate the natural freedom of mankind.

Maximian had no sooner recovered Gaul from the hands of the

peasants, than he lost Britain by the usurpation of Carausius.

Ever since the rash but successful enterprise of the Franks under

the reign of Probus, their daring countrymen had constructed

squadrons of light brigantines, in which they incessantly ravaged

the provinces adjacent to the ocean. To repel their desultory

incursions, it was found necessary to create a naval power; and

the judicious measure was prosecuted with prudence and vigor.

Gessoriacum, or Boulogne, in the straits of the British Channel,

was chosen by the emperor for the station of the Roman fleet; and

the command of it was intrusted to Carausius, a Menapian of the

meanest origin, but who had long signalized his skill as a pilot,

and his valor as a soldier. The integrity of the new admiral

corresponded not with his abilities. When the German pirates

sailed from their own harbors, he connived at their passage, but

he diligently intercepted their return, and appropriated to his

own use an ample share of the spoil which they had acquired. The

wealth of Carausius was, on this occasion, very justly considered

as an evidence of his guilt; and Maximian had already given

orders for his death. But the crafty Menapian foresaw and

prevented the severity of the emperor. By his liberality he had

attached to his fortunes the fleet which he commanded, and

secured the barbarians in his interest. From the port of Boulogne

he sailed over to Britain, persuaded the legion, and the

auxiliaries which guarded that island, to embrace his party, and

boldly assuming, with the Imperial purple, the title of Augustus,

defied the justice and the arms of his injured sovereign.

When Britain was thus dismembered from the empire, its importance

was sensibly felt, and its loss sincerely lamented. The Romans

celebrated, and perhaps magnified, the extent of that noble

island, provided on every side with convenient harbors; the

temperature of the climate, and the fertility of the soil, alike

adapted for the production of corn or of vines; the valuable

minerals with which it abounded; its rich pastures covered with

innumerable flocks, and its woods free from wild beasts or

venomous serpents. Above all, they regretted the large amount of

the revenue of Britain, whilst they confessed, that such a

province well deserved to become the seat of an independent

monarchy. During the space of seven years it was possessed by

Carausius; and fortune continued propitious to a rebellion

supported with courage and ability. The British emperor defended

the frontiers of his dominions against the Caledonians of the

North, invited, from the continent, a great number of skilful

artists, and displayed, on a variety of coins that are still

extant, his taste and opulence. Born on the confines of the

Franks, he courted the friendship of that formidable people, by

the flattering imitation of their dress and manners. The bravest

of their youth he enlisted among his land or sea forces; and, in

return for their useful alliance, he communicated to the

barbarians the dangerous knowledge of military and naval arts.

Carausius still preserved the possession of Boulogne and the

adjacent country. His fleets rode triumphant in the channel,

commanded the mouths of the Seine and of the Rhine, ravaged the

coasts of the ocean, and diffused beyond the columns of Hercules

the terror of his name. Under his command, Britain, destined in a

future age to obtain the empire of the sea, already assumed its

natural and respectable station of a maritime power.

By seizing the fleet of Boulogne, Carausius had deprived his

master of the means of pursuit and revenge. And when, after a

vast expense of time and labor, a new armament was launched into

the water, the Imperial troops, unaccustomed to that element,

were easily baffled and defeated by the veteran sailors of the

usurper. This disappointed effort was soon productive of a treaty

of peace. Diocletian and his colleague, who justly dreaded the

enterprising spirit of Carausius, resigned to him the sovereignty

of Britain, and reluctantly admitted their perfidious servant to

a participation of the Imperial honors. But the adoption of the

two Cæsars restored new vigor to the Romans arms; and while the

Rhine was guarded by the presence of Maximian, his brave

associate Constantius assumed the conduct of the British war. His

first enterprise was against the important place of Boulogne. A

stupendous mole, raised across the entrance of the harbor,

intercepted all hopes of relief. The town surrendered after an

obstinate defence; and a considerable part of the naval strength

of Carausius fell into the hands of the besiegers. During the

three years which Constantius employed in preparing a fleet

adequate to the conquest of Britain, he secured the coast of

Gaul, invaded the country of the Franks, and deprived the usurper

of the assistance of those powerful allies.

Before the preparations were finished, Constantius received the

intelligence of the tyrant’s death, and it was considered as a

sure presage of the approaching victory. The servants of

Carausius imitated the example of treason which he had given. He

was murdered by his first minister, Allectus, and the assassin

succeeded to his power and to his danger. But he possessed not

equal abilities either to exercise the one or to repel the other.

He beheld, with anxious terror, the opposite shores of the

continent already filled with arms, with troops, and with

vessels; for Constantius had very prudently divided his forces,

that he might likewise divide the attention and resistance of the

enemy. The attack was at length made by the principal squadron,

which, under the command of the præfect Asclepiodatus, an officer

of distinguished merit, had been assembled in the north of the

Seine. So imperfect in those times was the art of navigation,

that orators have celebrated the daring courage of the Romans,

who ventured to set sail with a side-wind, and on a stormy day.

The weather proved favorable to their enterprise. Under the cover

of a thick fog, they escaped the fleet of Allectus, which had

been stationed off the Isle of Wight to receive them, landed in

safety on some part of the western coast, and convinced the

Britons, that a superiority of naval strength will not always

protect their country from a foreign invasion. Asclepiodatus had

no sooner disembarked the imperial troops, then he set fire to

his ships; and, as the expedition proved fortunate, his heroic

conduct was universally admired. The usurper had posted himself

near London, to expect the formidable attack of Constantius, who

commanded in person the fleet of Boulogne; but the descent of a

new enemy required his immediate presence in the West. He

performed this long march in so precipitate a manner, that he

encountered the whole force of the præfect with a small body of

harassed and disheartened troops. The engagement was soon

terminated by the total defeat and death of Allectus; a single

battle, as it has often happened, decided the fate of this great

island; and when Constantius landed on the shores of Kent, he

found them covered with obedient subjects. Their acclamations

were loud and unanimous; and the virtues of the conqueror may

induce us to believe, that they sincerely rejoiced in a

revolution, which, after a separation of ten years, restored

Britain to the body of the Roman empire.

Chapter XIII: Reign Of Diocletian And His Three Associates.—Part

II.

Britain had none but domestic enemies to dread; and as long as

the governors preserved their fidelity, and the troops their

discipline, the incursions of the naked savages of Scotland or

Ireland could never materially affect the safety of the province.

The peace of the continent, and the defence of the principal

rivers which bounded the empire, were objects of far greater

difficulty and importance. The policy of Diocletian, which

inspired the councils of his associates, provided for the public

tranquility, by encouraging a spirit of dissension among the

barbarians, and by strengthening the fortifications of the Roman

limit. In the East he fixed a line of camps from Egypt to the

Persian dominions, and for every camp, he instituted an adequate

number of stationary troops, commanded by their respective

officers, and supplied with every kind of arms, from the new

arsenals which he had formed at Antioch, Emesa, and Damascus. Nor

was the precaution of the emperor less watchful against the

well-known valor of the barbarians of Europe. From the mouth of

the Rhine to that of the Danube, the ancient camps, towns, and

citidels, were diligently reëstablished, and, in the most exposed

places, new ones were skilfully constructed: the strictest

vigilance was introduced among the garrisons of the frontier, and

every expedient was practised that could render the long chain of

fortifications firm and impenetrable. A barrier so respectable

was seldom violated, and the barbarians often turned against each

other their disappointed rage. The Goths, the Vandals, the

Gepidæ, the Burgundians, the Alemanni, wasted each other’s

strength by destructive hostilities: and whosoever vanquished,

they vanquished the enemies of Rome. The subjects of Diocletian

enjoyed the bloody spectacle, and congratulated each other, that

the mischiefs of civil war were now experienced only by the

barbarians.

Notwithstanding the policy of Diocletian, it was impossible to

maintain an equal and undisturbed tranquillity during a reign of

twenty years, and along a frontier of many hundred miles.

Sometimes the barbarians suspended their domestic animosities,

and the relaxed vigilance of the garrisons sometimes gave a

passage to their strength or dexterity. Whenever the provinces

were invaded, Diocletian conducted himself with that calm dignity

which he always affected or possessed; reserved his presence for

such occasions as were worthy of his interposition, never exposed

his person or reputation to any unnecessary danger, insured his

success by every means that prudence could suggest, and

displayed, with ostentation, the consequences of his victory. In

wars of a more difficult nature, and more doubtful event, he

employed the rough valor of Maximian; and that faithful soldier

was content to ascribe his own victories to the wise counsels and

auspicious influence of his benefactor. But after the adoption of

the two Cæsars, the emperors themselves, retiring to a less

laborious scene of action, devolved on their adopted sons the

defence of the Danube and of the Rhine. The vigilant Galerius was

never reduced to the necessity of vanquishing an army of

barbarians on the Roman territory. The brave and active

Constantius delivered Gaul from a very furious inroad of the

Alemanni; and his victories of Langres and Vindonissa appear to

have been actions of considerable danger and merit. As he

traversed the open country with a feeble guard, he was

encompassed on a sudden by the superior multitude of the enemy.

He retreated with difficulty towards Langres; but, in the general

consternation, the citizens refused to open their gates, and the

wounded prince was drawn up the wall by the means of a rope. But,

on the news of his distress, the Roman troops hastened from all

sides to his relief, and before the evening he had satisfied his

honor and revenge by the slaughter of six thousand Alemanni. From

the monuments of those times, the obscure traces of several other

victories over the barbarians of Sarmatia and Germany might

possibly be collected; but the tedious search would not be

rewarded either with amusement or with instruction.

The conduct which the emperor Probus had adopted in the disposal

of the vanquished was imitated by Diocletian and his associates.

The captive barbarians, exchanging death for slavery, were

distributed among the provincials, and assigned to those

districts (in Gaul, the territories of Amiens, Beauvais, Cambray,

Treves, Langres, and Troyes, are particularly specified ) which

had been depopulated by the calamities of war. They were usefully

employed as shepherds and husbandmen, but were denied the

exercise of arms, except when it was found expedient to enroll

them in the military service. Nor did the emperors refuse the

property of lands, with a less servile tenure, to such of the

barbarians as solicited the protection of Rome. They granted a

settlement to several colonies of the Carpi, the Bastarnæ, and

the Sarmatians; and, by a dangerous indulgence, permitted them in

some measure to retain their national manners and independence.

Among the provincials, it was a subject of flattering exultation,

that the barbarian, so lately an object of terror, now cultivated

their lands, drove their cattle to the neighboring fair, and

contributed by his labor to the public plenty. They congratulated

their masters on the powerful accession of subjects and soldiers;

but they forgot to observe, that multitudes of secret enemies,

insolent from favor, or desperate from oppression, were

introduced into the heart of the empire.

While the Cæsars exercised their valor on the banks of the Rhine

and Danube, the presence of the emperors was required on the

southern confines of the Roman world. From the Nile to Mount

Atlas, Africa was in arms. A confederacy of five Moorish nations

issued from their deserts to invade the peaceful provinces.

Julian had assumed the purple at Carthage. Achilleus at

Alexandria, and even the Blemmyes, renewed, or rather continued,

their incursions into the Upper Egypt. Scarcely any circumstances

have been preserved of the exploits of Maximian in the western

parts of Africa; but it appears, by the event, that the progress

of his arms was rapid and decisive, that he vanquished the

fiercest barbarians of Mauritania, and that he removed them from

the mountains, whose inaccessible strength had inspired their

inhabitants with a lawless confidence, and habituated them to a

life of rapine and violence. Diocletian, on his side, opened the

campaign in Egypt by the siege of Alexandria, cut off the

aqueducts which conveyed the waters of the Nile into every

quarter of that immense city, and rendering his camp impregnable

to the sallies of the besieged multitude, he pushed his

reiterated attacks with caution and vigor. After a siege of eight

months, Alexandria, wasted by the sword and by fire, implored the

clemency of the conqueror, but it experienced the full extent of

his severity. Many thousands of the citizens perished in a

promiscuous slaughter, and there were few obnoxious persons in

Egypt who escaped a sentence either of death or at least of

exile. The fate of Busiris and of Coptos was still more

melancholy than that of Alexandria: those proud cities, the

former distinguished by its antiquity, the latter enriched by the

passage of the Indian trade, were utterly destroyed by the arms

and by the severe order of Diocletian. The character of the

Egyptian nation, insensible to kindness, but extremely

susceptible of fear, could alone justify this excessive rigor.

The seditions of Alexandria had often affected the tranquillity

and subsistence of Rome itself. Since the usurpation of Firmus,

the province of Upper Egypt, incessantly relapsing into

rebellion, had embraced the alliance of the savages of Æthiopia.

The number of the Blemmyes, scattered between the Island of Meroe

and the Red Sea, was very inconsiderable, their disposition was

unwarlike, their weapons rude and inoffensive. Yet in the public

disorders, these barbarians, whom antiquity, shocked with the

deformity of their figure, had almost excluded from the human

species, presumed to rank themselves among the enemies of Rome.

Such had been the unworthy allies of the Egyptians; and while the

attention of the state was engaged in more serious wars, their

vexatious inroads might again harass the repose of the province.

With a view of opposing to the Blemmyes a suitable adversary,

Diocletian persuaded the Nobatæ, or people of Nubia, to remove

from their ancient habitations in the deserts of Libya, and

resigned to them an extensive but unprofitable territory above

Syene and the cataracts of the Nile, with the stipulation, that

they should ever respect and guard the frontier of the empire.

The treaty long subsisted; and till the establishment of

Christianity introduced stricter notions of religious worship, it

was annually ratified by a solemn sacrifice in the isle of

Elephantine, in which the Romans, as well as the barbarians,

adored the same visible or invisible powers of the universe.

At the same time that Diocletian chastised the past crimes of the

Egyptians, he provided for their future safety and happiness by

many wise regulations, which were confirmed and enforced under

the succeeding reigns. One very remarkable edict which he

published, instead of being condemned as the effect of jealous

tyranny, deserves to be applauded as an act of prudence and

humanity. He caused a diligent inquiry to be made “for all the

ancient books which treated of the admirable art of making gold

and silver, and without pity, committed them to the flames;

apprehensive, as we are assumed, lest the opulence of the

Egyptians should inspire them with confidence to rebel against

the empire.” But if Diocletian had been convinced of the reality

of that valuable art, far from extinguishing the memory, he would

have converted the operation of it to the benefit of the public

revenue. It is much more likely, that his good sense discovered

to him the folly of such magnificent pretensions, and that he was

desirous of preserving the reason and fortunes of his subjects

from the mischievous pursuit. It may be remarked, that these

ancient books, so liberally ascribed to Pythagoras, to Solomon,

or to Hermes, were the pious frauds of more recent adepts. The

Greeks were inattentive either to the use or to the abuse of

chemistry. In that immense register, where Pliny has deposited

the discoveries, the arts, and the errors of mankind, there is

not the least mention of the transmutation of metals; and the

persecution of Diocletian is the first authentic event in the

history of alchemy. The conquest of Egypt by the Arabs diffused

that vain science over the globe. Congenial to the avarice of the

human heart, it was studied in China as in Europe, with equal

eagerness, and with equal success. The darkness of the middle

ages insured a favorable reception to every tale of wonder, and

the revival of learning gave new vigor to hope, and suggested

more specious arts of deception. Philosophy, with the aid of

experience, has at length banished the study of alchemy; and the

present age, however desirous of riches, is content to seek them

by the humbler means of commerce and industry.

The reduction of Egypt was immediately followed by the Persian

war. It was reserved for the reign of Diocletian to vanquish that

powerful nation, and to extort a confession from the successors

of Artaxerxes, of the superior majesty of the Roman empire.

We have observed, under the reign of Valerian, that Armenia was

subdued by the perfidy and the arms of the Persians, and that,

after the assassination of Chosroes, his son Tiridates, the

infant heir of the monarchy, was saved by the fidelity of his

friends, and educated under the protection of the emperors.

Tiridates derived from his exile such advantages as he could

never have obtained on the throne of Armenia; the early knowledge

of adversity, of mankind, and of the Roman discipline. He

signalized his youth by deeds of valor, and displayed a matchless

dexterity, as well as strength, in every martial exercise, and

even in the less honorable contests of the Olympian games. Those

qualities were more nobly exerted in the defence of his

benefactor Licinius. That officer, in the sedition which

occasioned the death of Probus, was exposed to the most imminent

danger, and the enraged soldiers were forcing their way into his

tent, when they were checked by the single arm of the Armenian

prince. The gratitude of Tiridates contributed soon afterwards to

his restoration. Licinius was in every station the friend and

companion of Galerius, and the merit of Galerius, long before he

was raised to the dignity of Cæsar, had been known and esteemed

by Diocletian. In the third year of that emperor’s reign

Tiridates was invested with the kingdom of Armenia. The justice

of the measure was not less evident than its expediency. It was

time to rescue from the usurpation of the Persian monarch an

important territory, which, since the reign of Nero, had been

always granted under the protection of the empire to a younger

branch of the house of Arsaces.

When Tiridates appeared on the frontiers of Armenia, he was

received with an unfeigned transport of joy and loyalty. During

twenty-six years, the country had experienced the real and

imaginary hardships of a foreign yoke. The Persian monarchs

adorned their new conquest with magnificent buildings; but those

monuments had been erected at the expense of the people, and were

abhorred as badges of slavery. The apprehension of a revolt had

inspired the most rigorous precautions: oppression had been

aggravated by insult, and the consciousness of the public hatred

had been productive of every measure that could render it still

more implacable. We have already remarked the intolerant spirit

of the Magian religion. The statues of the deified kings of

Armenia, and the sacred images of the sun and moon, were broke in

pieces by the zeal of the conqueror; and the perpetual fire of

Ormuzd was kindled and preserved upon an altar erected on the

summit of Mount Bagavan. It was natural, that a people

exasperated by so many injuries, should arm with zeal in the

cause of their independence, their religion, and their hereditary

sovereign. The torrent bore down every obstacle, and the Persian

garrisons retreated before its fury. The nobles of Armenia flew

to the standard of Tiridates, all alleging their past merit,

offering their future service, and soliciting from the new king

those honors and rewards from which they had been excluded with

disdain under the foreign government. The command of the army was

bestowed on Artavasdes, whose father had saved the infancy of

Tiridates, and whose family had been massacred for that generous

action. The brother of Artavasdes obtained the government of a

province. One of the first military dignities was conferred on

the satrap Otas, a man of singular temperance and fortitude, who

presented to the king his sister and a considerable treasure,

both of which, in a sequestered fortress, Otas had preserved from

violation. Among the Armenian nobles appeared an ally, whose

fortunes are too remarkable to pass unnoticed. His name was

Mamgo, his origin was Scythian, and the horde which acknowledge

his authority had encamped a very few years before on the skirts

of the Chinese empire, which at that time extended as far as the

neighborhood of Sogdiana. Having incurred the displeasure of his

master, Mamgo, with his followers, retired to the banks of the

Oxus, and implored the protection of Sapor. The emperor of China

claimed the fugitive, and alleged the rights of sovereignty. The

Persian monarch pleaded the laws of hospitality, and with some

difficulty avoided a war, by the promise that he would banish

Mamgo to the uttermost parts of the West, a punishment, as he

described it, not less dreadful than death itself. Armenia was

chosen for the place of exile, and a large district was assigned

to the Scythian horde, on which they might feed their flocks and

herds, and remove their encampment from one place to another,

according to the different seasons of the year. They were

employed to repel the invasion of Tiridates; but their leader,

after weighing the obligations and injuries which he had received

from the Persian monarch, resolved to abandon his party. The

Armenian prince, who was well acquainted with the merit as well

as power of Mamgo, treated him with distinguished respect; and,

by admitting him into his confidence, acquired a brave and

faithful servant, who contributed very effectually to his

restoration.

For a while, fortune appeared to favor the enterprising valor of

Tiridates. He not only expelled the enemies of his family and

country from the whole extent of Armenia, but in the prosecution

of his revenge he carried his arms, or at least his incursions,

into the heart of Assyria. The historian, who has preserved the

name of Tiridates from oblivion, celebrates, with a degree of

national enthusiasm, his personal prowess: and, in the true

spirit of eastern romance, describes the giants and the elephants

that fell beneath his invincible arm. It is from other

information that we discover the distracted state of the Persian

monarchy, to which the king of Armenia was indebted for some part

of his advantages. The throne was disputed by the ambition of

contending brothers; and Hormuz, after exerting without success

the strength of his own party, had recourse to the dangerous

assistance of the barbarians who inhabited the banks of the

Caspian Sea. The civil war was, however, soon terminated, either

by a victor or by a reconciliation; and Narses, who was

universally acknowledged as king of Persia, directed his whole

force against the foreign enemy. The contest then became too

unequal; nor was the valor of the hero able to withstand the

power of the monarch. Tiridates, a second time expelled from the

throne of Armenia, once more took refuge in the court of the

emperors. * Narses soon reëstablished his authority over the

revolted province; and loudly complaining of the protection

afforded by the Romans to rebels and fugitives, aspired to the

conquest of the East.

Neither prudence nor honor could permit the emperors to forsake

the cause of the Armenian king, and it was resolved to exert the

force of the empire in the Persian war. Diocletian, with the calm

dignity which he constantly assumed, fixed his own station in the

city of Antioch, from whence he prepared and directed the

military operations. The conduct of the legions was intrusted to

the intrepid valor of Galerius, who, for that important purpose,

was removed from the banks of the Danube to those of the

Euphrates. The armies soon encountered each other in the plains

of Mesopotamia, and two battles were fought with various and

doubtful success; but the third engagement was of a more decisive

nature; and the Roman army received a total overthrow, which is

attributed to the rashness of Galerius, who, with an

inconsiderable body of troops, attacked the innumerable host of

the Persians. But the consideration of the country that was the

scene of action, may suggest another reason for his defeat. The

same ground on which Galerius was vanquished, had been rendered

memorable by the death of Crassus, and the slaughter of ten

legions. It was a plain of more than sixty miles, which extended

from the hills of Carrhæ to the Euphrates; a smooth and barren

surface of sandy desert, without a hillock, without a tree, and

without a spring of fresh water. The steady infantry of the

Romans, fainting with heat and thirst, could neither hope for

victory if they preserved their ranks, nor break their ranks

without exposing themselves to the most imminent danger. In this

situation they were gradually encompassed by the superior

numbers, harassed by the rapid evolutions, and destroyed by the

arrows of the barbarian cavalry. The king of Armenia had

signalized his valor in the battle, and acquired personal glory

by the public misfortune. He was pursued as far as the Euphrates;

his horse was wounded, and it appeared impossible for him to

escape the victorious enemy. In this extremity Tiridates embraced

the only refuge which appeared before him: he dismounted and

plunged into the stream. His armor was heavy, the river very

deep, and at those parts at least half a mile in breadth; yet

such was his strength and dexterity, that he reached in safety

the opposite bank. With regard to the Roman general, we are

ignorant of the circumstances of his escape; but when he returned

to Antioch, Diocletian received him, not with the tenderness of a

friend and colleague, but with the indignation of an offended

sovereign. The haughtiest of men, clothed in his purple, but

humbled by the sense of his fault and misfortune, was obliged to

follow the emperor’s chariot above a mile on foot, and to

exhibit, before the whole court, the spectacle of his disgrace.

As soon as Diocletian had indulged his private resentment, and

asserted the majesty of supreme power, he yielded to the

submissive entreaties of the Cæsar, and permitted him to retrieve

his own honor, as well as that of the Roman arms. In the room of

the unwarlike troops of Asia, which had most probably served in

the first expedition, a second army was drawn from the veterans

and new levies of the Illyrian frontier, and a considerable body

of Gothic auxiliaries were taken into the Imperial pay. At the

head of a chosen army of twenty-five thousand men, Galerius again

passed the Euphrates; but, instead of exposing his legions in the

open plains of Mesopotamia he advanced through the mountains of

Armenia, where he found the inhabitants devoted to his cause, and

the country as favorable to the operations of infantry as it was

inconvenient for the motions of cavalry. Adversity had confirmed

the Roman discipline, while the barbarians, elated by success,

were become so negligent and remiss, that in the moment when they

least expected it, they were surprised by the active conduct of

Galerius, who, attended only by two horsemen, had with his own

eyes secretly examined the state and position of their camp. A

surprise, especially in the night time, was for the most part

fatal to a Persian army. “Their horses were tied, and generally

shackled, to prevent their running away; and if an alarm

happened, a Persian had his housing to fix, his horse to bridle,

and his corselet to put on, before he could mount.” On this

occasion, the impetuous attack of Galerius spread disorder and

dismay over the camp of the barbarians. A slight resistance was

followed by a dreadful carnage, and, in the general confusion,

the wounded monarch (for Narses commanded his armies in person)

fled towards the deserts of Media. His sumptuous tents, and those

of his satraps, afforded an immense booty to the conqueror; and

an incident is mentioned, which proves the rustic but martial

ignorance of the legions in the elegant superfluities of life. A

bag of shining leather, filled with pearls, fell into the hands

of a private soldier; he carefully preserved the bag, but he

threw away its contents, judging that whatever was of no use

could not possibly be of any value. The principal loss of Narses

was of a much more affecting nature. Several of his wives, his

sisters, and children, who had attended the army, were made

captives in the defeat. But though the character of Galerius had

in general very little affinity with that of Alexander, he

imitated, after his victory, the amiable behavior of the

Macedonian towards the family of Darius. The wives and children

of Narses were protected from violence and rapine, conveyed to a

place of safety, and treated with every mark of respect and

tenderness, that was due from a generous enemy to their age,

their sex, and their royal dignity.

Chapter XIII: Reign Of Diocletian And His Three Associates.—Part

III.

While the East anxiously expected the decision of this great

contest, the emperor Diocletian, having assembled in Syria a

strong army of observation, displayed from a distance the

resources of the Roman power, and reserved himself for any future

emergency of the war. On the intelligence of the victory he

condescended to advance towards the frontier, with a view of

moderating, by his presence and counsels, the pride of Galerius.

The interview of the Roman princes at Nisibis was accompanied

with every expression of respect on one side, and of esteem on

the other. It was in that city that they soon afterwards gave

audience to the ambassador of the Great King. The power, or at

least the spirit, of Narses, had been broken by his last defeat;

and he considered an immediate peace as the only means that could

stop the progress of the Roman arms. He despatched Apharban, a

servant who possessed his favor and confidence, with a commission

to negotiate a treaty, or rather to receive whatever conditions

the conqueror should impose. Apharban opened the conference by

expressing his master’s gratitude for the generous treatment of

his family, and by soliciting the liberty of those illustrious

captives. He celebrated the valor of Galerius, without degrading

the reputation of Narses, and thought it no dishonor to confess

the superiority of the victorious Cæsar, over a monarch who had

surpassed in glory all the princes of his race. Notwithstanding

the justice of the Persian cause, he was empowered to submit the

present differences to the decision of the emperors themselves;

convinced as he was, that, in the midst of prosperity, they would

not be unmindful of the vicissitudes of fortune. Apharban

concluded his discourse in the style of eastern allegory, by

observing that the Roman and Persian monarchies were the two eyes

of the world, which would remain imperfect and mutilated if

either of them should be put out.

“It well becomes the Persians,” replied Galerius, with a

transport of fury, which seemed to convulse his whole frame, “it

well becomes the Persians to expatiate on the vicissitudes of

fortune, and calmly to read us lectures on the virtues of

moderation. Let them remember their own _moderation_ towards the

unhappy Valerian. They vanquished him by fraud, they treated him

with indignity. They detained him till the last moment of his

life in shameful captivity, and after his death they exposed his

body to perpetual ignominy.” Softening, however, his tone,

Galerius insinuated to the ambassador, that it had never been the

practice of the Romans to trample on a prostrate enemy; and that,

on this occasion, they should consult their own dignity rather

than the Persian merit. He dismissed Apharban with a hope that

Narses would soon be informed on what conditions he might obtain,

from the clemency of the emperors, a lasting peace, and the

restoration of his wives and children. In this conference we may

discover the fierce passions of Galerius, as well as his

deference to the superior wisdom and authority of Diocletian. The

ambition of the former grasped at the conquest of the East, and

had proposed to reduce Persia into the state of a province. The

prudence of the latter, who adhered to the moderate policy of

Augustus and the Antonines, embraced the favorable opportunity of

terminating a successful war by an honorable and advantageous

peace.

In pursuance of their promise, the emperors soon afterwards

appointed Sicorius Probus, one of their secretaries, to acquaint

the Persian court with their final resolution. As the minister of

peace, he was received with every mark of politeness and

friendship; but, under the pretence of allowing him the necessary

repose after so long a journey, the audience of Probus was

deferred from day to day; and he attended the slow motions of the

king, till at length he was admitted to his presence, near the

River Asprudus in Media. The secret motive of Narses, in this

delay, had been to collect such a military force as might enable

him, though sincerely desirous of peace, to negotiate with the

greater weight and dignity. Three persons only assisted at this

important conference, the minister Apharban, the præfect of the

guards, and an officer who had commanded on the Armenian

frontier. The first condition proposed by the ambassador is not

at present of a very intelligible nature; that the city of

Nisibis might be established for the place of mutual exchange,

or, as we should formerly have termed it, for the staple of

trade, between the two empires. There is no difficulty in

conceiving the intention of the Roman princes to improve their

revenue by some restraints upon commerce; but as Nisibis was

situated within their own dominions, and as they were masters

both of the imports and exports, it should seem that such

restraints were the objects of an internal law, rather than of a

foreign treaty. To render them more effectual, some stipulations

were probably required on the side of the king of Persia, which

appeared so very repugnant either to his interest or to his

dignity, that Narses could not be persuaded to subscribe them. As

this was the only article to which he refused his consent, it was

no longer insisted on; and the emperors either suffered the trade

to flow in its natural channels, or contented themselves with

such restrictions, as it depended on their own authority to

establish.

As soon as this difficulty was removed, a solemn peace was

concluded and ratified between the two nations. The conditions of

a treaty so glorious to the empire, and so necessary to Persia,

may deserve a more peculiar attention, as the history of Rome

presents very few transactions of a similar nature; most of her

wars having either been terminated by absolute conquest, or waged

against barbarians ignorant of the use of letters. I. The Aboras,

or, as it is called by Xenophon, the Araxes, was fixed as the

boundary between the two monarchies. That river, which rose near

the Tigris, was increased, a few miles below Nisibis, by the

little stream of the Mygdonius, passed under the walls of

Singara, and fell into the Euphrates at Circesium, a frontier

town, which, by the care of Diocletian, was very strongly

fortified. Mesopotomia, the object of so many wars, was ceded to

the empire; and the Persians, by this treaty, renounced all

pretensions to that great province. II. They relinquished to the

Romans five provinces beyond the Tigris. Their situation formed a

very useful barrier, and their natural strength was soon improved

by art and military skill. Four of these, to the north of the

river, were districts of obscure fame and inconsiderable extent;

Intiline, Zabdicene, Arzanene, and Moxoene; but on the east of

the Tigris, the empire acquired the large and mountainous

territory of Carduene, the ancient seat of the Carduchians, who

preserved for many ages their manly freedom in the heart of the

despotic monarchies of Asia. The ten thousand Greeks traversed

their country, after a painful march, or rather engagement, of

seven days; and it is confessed by their leader, in his

incomparable relation of the retreat, that they suffered more

from the arrows of the Carduchians, than from the power of the

Great King. Their posterity, the Curds, with very little

alteration either of name or manners, * acknowledged the nominal

sovereignty of the Turkish sultan. III. It is almost needless to

observe, that Tiridates, the faithful ally of Rome, was restored

to the throne of his fathers, and that the rights of the Imperial

supremacy were fully asserted and secured. The limits of Armenia

were extended as far as the fortress of Sintha in Media, and this

increase of dominion was not so much an act of liberality as of

justice. Of the provinces already mentioned beyond the Tigris,

the four first had been dismembered by the Parthians from the

crown of Armenia; and when the Romans acquired the possession of

them, they stipulated, at the expense of the usurpers, an ample

compensation, which invested their ally with the extensive and

fertile country of Atropatene. Its principal city, in the same

situation perhaps as the modern Tauris, was frequently honored by

the residence of Tiridates; and as it sometimes bore the name of

Ecbatana, he imitated, in the buildings and fortifications, the

splendid capital of the Medes. IV. The country of Iberia was

barren, its inhabitants rude and savage. But they were accustomed

to the use of arms, and they separated from the empire barbarians

much fiercer and more formidable than themselves. The narrow

defiles of Mount Caucasus were in their hands, and it was in

their choice, either to admit or to exclude the wandering tribes

of Sarmatia, whenever a rapacious spirit urged them to penetrate

into the richer climes of the South. The nomination of the kings

of Iberia, which was resigned by the Persian monarch to the

emperors, contributed to the strength and security of the Roman

power in Asia. The East enjoyed a profound tranquillity during

forty years; and the treaty between the rival monarchies was

strictly observed till the death of Tiridates; when a new

generation, animated with different views and different passions,

succeeded to the government of the world; and the grandson of

Narses undertook a long and memorable war against the princes of

the house of Constantine.

The arduous work of rescuing the distressed empire from tyrants

and barbarians had now been completely achieved by a succession

of Illyrian peasants. As soon as Diocletian entered into the

twentieth year of his reign, he celebrated that memorable æra, as

well as the success of his arms, by the pomp of a Roman triumph.

Maximian, the equal partner of his power, was his only companion

in the glory of that day. The two Cæsars had fought and

conquered, but the merit of their exploits was ascribed,

according to the rigor of ancient maxims, to the auspicious

influence of their fathers and emperors. The triumph of

Diocletian and Maximian was less magnificent, perhaps, than those

of Aurelian and Probus, but it was dignified by several

circumstances of superior fame and good fortune. Africa and

Britain, the Rhine, the Danube, and the Nile, furnished their

respective trophies; but the most distinguished ornament was of a

more singular nature, a Persian victory followed by an important

conquest. The representations of rivers, mountains, and

provinces, were carried before the Imperial car. The images of

the captive wives, the sisters, and the children of the Great

King, afforded a new and grateful spectacle to the vanity of the

people. In the eyes of posterity, this triumph is remarkable, by

a distinction of a less honorable kind. It was the last that Rome

ever beheld. Soon after this period, the emperors ceased to

vanquish, and Rome ceased to be the capital of the empire.

The spot on which Rome was founded had been consecrated by

ancient ceremonies and imaginary miracles. The presence of some

god, or the memory of some hero, seemed to animate every part of

the city, and the empire of the world had been promised to the

Capitol. The native Romans felt and confessed the power of this

agreeable illusion. It was derived from their ancestors, had

grown up with their earliest habits of life, and was protected,

in some measure, by the opinion of political utility. The form

and the seat of government were intimately blended together, nor

was it esteemed possible to transport the one without destroying

the other. But the sovereignty of the capital was gradually

annihilated in the extent of conquest; the provinces rose to the

same level, and the vanquished nations acquired the name and

privileges, without imbibing the partial affections, of Romans.

During a long period, however, the remains of the ancient

constitution, and the influence of custom, preserved the dignity

of Rome. The emperors, though perhaps of African or Illyrian

extraction, respected their adopted country, as the seat of their

power, and the centre of their extensive dominions. The

emergencies of war very frequently required their presence on the

frontiers; but Diocletian and Maximian were the first Roman

princes who fixed, in time of peace, their ordinary residence in

the provinces; and their conduct, however it might be suggested

by private motives, was justified by very specious considerations

of policy. The court of the emperor of the West was, for the most

part, established at Milan, whose situation, at the foot of the

Alps, appeared far more convenient than that of Rome, for the

important purpose of watching the motions of the barbarians of

Germany. Milan soon assumed the splendor of an Imperial city. The

houses are described as numerous and well built; the manners of

the people as polished and liberal. A circus, a theatre, a mint,

a palace, baths, which bore the name of their founder Maximian;

porticos adorned with statues, and a double circumference of

walls, contributed to the beauty of the new capital; nor did it

seem oppressed even by the proximity of Rome. To rival the

majesty of Rome was the ambition likewise of Diocletian, who

employed his leisure, and the wealth of the East, in the

embellishment of Nicomedia, a city placed on the verge of Europe

and Asia, almost at an equal distance between the Danube and the

Euphrates. By the taste of the monarch, and at the expense of the

people, Nicomedia acquired, in the space of a few years, a degree

of magnificence which might appear to have required the labor of

ages, and became inferior only to Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch,

in extent of populousness. The life of Diocletian and Maximian

was a life of action, and a considerable portion of it was spent

in camps, or in the long and frequent marches; but whenever the

public business allowed them any relaxation, they seemed to have

retired with pleasure to their favorite residences of Nicomedia

and Milan. Till Diocletian, in the twentieth year of his reign,

celebrated his Roman triumph, it is extremely doubtful whether he

ever visited the ancient capital of the empire. Even on that

memorable occasion his stay did not exceed two months. Disgusted

with the licentious familiarity of the people, he quitted Rome

with precipitation thirteen days before it was expected that he

should have appeared in the senate, invested with the ensigns of

the consular dignity.

The dislike expressed by Diocletian towards Rome and Roman

freedom was not the effect of momentary caprice, but the result

of the most artful policy. That crafty prince had framed a new

system of Imperial government, which was afterwards completed by

the family of Constantine; and as the image of the old

constitution was religiously preserved in the senate, he resolved

to deprive that order of its small remains of power and

consideration. We may recollect, about eight years before the

elevation of Diocletian, the transient greatness, and the

ambitious hopes, of the Roman senate. As long as that enthusiasm

prevailed, many of the nobles imprudently displayed their zeal in

the cause of freedom; and after the successes of Probus had

withdrawn their countenance from the republican party, the

senators were unable to disguise their impotent resentment.

As the sovereign of Italy, Maximian was intrusted with the care

of extinguishing this troublesome, rather than dangerous spirit,

and the task was perfectly suited to his cruel temper. The most

illustrious members of the senate, whom Diocletian always

affected to esteem, were involved, by his colleague, in the

accusation of imaginary plots; and the possession of an elegant

villa, or a well-cultivated estate, was interpreted as a

convincing evidence of guilt. The camp of the Prætorians, which

had so long oppressed, began to protect, the majesty of Rome; and

as those haughty troops were conscious of the decline of their

power, they were naturally disposed to unite their strength with

the authority of the senate. By the prudent measures of

Diocletian, the numbers of the Prætorians were insensibly

reduced, their privileges abolished, and their place supplied by

two faithful legions of Illyricum, who, under the new titles of

Jovians and Herculians, were appointed to perform the service of

the Imperial guards. But the most fatal though secret wound,

which the senate received from the hands of Diocletian and

Maximian, was inflicted by the inevitable operation of their

absence. As long as the emperors resided at Rome, that assembly

might be oppressed, but it could scarcely be neglected. The

successors of Augustus exercised the power of dictating whatever

laws their wisdom or caprice might suggest; but those laws were

ratified by the sanction of the senate. The model of ancient

freedom was preserved in its deliberations and decrees; and wise

princes, who respected the prejudices of the Roman people, were

in some measure obliged to assume the language and behavior

suitable to the general and first magistrate of the republic. In

the armies and in the provinces, they displayed the dignity of

monarchs; and when they fixed their residence at a distance from

the capital, they forever laid aside the dissimulation which

Augustus had recommended to his successors. In the exercise of

the legislative as well as the executive power, the sovereign

advised with his ministers, instead of consulting the great

council of the nation. The name of the senate was mentioned with

honor till the last period of the empire; the vanity of its

members was still flattered with honorary distinctions; but the

assembly which had so long been the source, and so long the

instrument of power, was respectfully suffered to sink into

oblivion. The senate of Rome, losing all connection with the

Imperial court and the actual constitution, was left a venerable

but useless monument of antiquity on the Capitoline hill.

Chapter XIII: Reign Of Diocletian And His Three Associates.—Part

IV.

When the Roman princes had lost sight of the senate and of their

ancient capital, they easily forgot the origin and nature of

their legal power. The civil offices of consul, of proconsul, of

censor, and of tribune, by the union of which it had been formed,

betrayed to the people its republican extraction. Those modest

titles were laid aside; and if they still distinguished their

high station by the appellation of Emperor, or Imperator, that

word was understood in a new and more dignified sense, and no

longer denoted the general of the Roman armies, but the sovereign

of the Roman world. The name of Emperor, which was at first of a

military nature, was associated with another of a more servile

kind. The epithet of Dominus, or Lord, in its primitive

signification, was expressive not of the authority of a prince

over his subjects, or of a commander over his soldiers, but of

the despotic power of a master over his domestic slaves. Viewing

it in that odious light, it had been rejected with abhorrence by

the first Cæsars. Their resistance insensibly became more feeble,

and the name less odious; till at length the style of _our Lord

and Emperor_ was not only bestowed by flattery, but was regularly

admitted into the laws and public monuments. Such lofty epithets

were sufficient to elate and satisfy the most excessive vanity;

and if the successors of Diocletian still declined the title of

King, it seems to have been the effect not so much of their

moderation as of their delicacy. Wherever the Latin tongue was in

use, (and it was the language of government throughout the

empire,) the Imperial title, as it was peculiar to themselves,

conveyed a more respectable idea than the name of king, which

they must have shared with a hundred barbarian chieftains; or

which, at the best, they could derive only from Romulus, or from

Tarquin. But the sentiments of the East were very different from

those of the West. From the earliest period of history, the

sovereigns of Asia had been celebrated in the Greek language by

the title of Basileus, or King; and since it was considered as

the first distinction among men, it was soon employed by the

servile provincials of the East, in their humble addresses to the

Roman throne. Even the attributes, or at least the titles, of the

Divinity, were usurped by Diocletian and Maximian, who

transmitted them to a succession of Christian emperors. Such

extravagant compliments, however, soon lose their impiety by

losing their meaning; and when the ear is once accustomed to the

sound, they are heard with indifference, as vague though

excessive professions of respect.

From the time of Augustus to that of Diocletian, the Roman

princes, conversing in a familiar manner among their

fellow-citizens, were saluted only with the same respect that was

usually paid to senators and magistrates. Their principal

distinction was the Imperial or military robe of purple; whilst

the senatorial garment was marked by a broad, and the equestrian

by a narrow, band or stripe of the same honorable color. The

pride, or rather the policy, of Diocletian engaged that artful

prince to introduce the stately magnificence of the court of

Persia. He ventured to assume the diadem, an ornament detested by

the Romans as the odious ensign of royalty, and the use of which

had been considered as the most desperate act of the madness of

Caligula. It was no more than a broad white fillet set with

pearls, which encircled the emperor’s head. The sumptuous robes

of Diocletian and his successors were of silk and gold; and it is

remarked with indignation that even their shoes were studded with

the most precious gems. The access to their sacred person was

every day rendered more difficult by the institution of new forms

and ceremonies. The avenues of the palace were strictly guarded

by the various _schools_, as they began to be called, of domestic

officers. The interior apartments were intrusted to the jealous

vigilance of the eunuchs, the increase of whose numbers and

influence was the most infallible symptom of the progress of

despotism. When a subject was at length admitted to the Imperial

presence, he was obliged, whatever might be his rank, to fall

prostrate on the ground, and to adore, according to the eastern

fashion, the divinity of his lord and master. Diocletian was a

man of sense, who, in the course of private as well as public

life, had formed a just estimate both of himself and of mankind;

nor is it easy to conceive that in substituting the manners of

Persia to those of Rome he was seriously actuated by so mean a

principle as that of vanity. He flattered himself that an

ostentation of splendor and luxury would subdue the imagination

of the multitude; that the monarch would be less exposed to the

rude license of the people and the soldiers, as his person was

secluded from the public view; and that habits of submission

would insensibly be productive of sentiments of veneration. Like

the modesty affected by Augustus, the state maintained by

Diocletian was a theatrical representation; but it must be

confessed, that of the two comedies, the former was of a much

more liberal and manly character than the latter. It was the aim

of the one to disguise, and the object of the other to display,

the unbounded power which the emperors possessed over the Roman

world.

Ostentation was the first principle of the new system instituted

by Diocletian. The second was division. He divided the empire,

the provinces, and every branch of the civil as well as military

administration. He multiplied the wheels of the machine of

government, and rendered its operations less rapid, but more

secure. Whatever advantages and whatever defects might attend

these innovations, they must be ascribed in a very great degree

to the first inventor; but as the new frame of policy was

gradually improved and completed by succeeding princes, it will

be more satisfactory to delay the consideration of it till the

season of its full maturity and perfection. Reserving, therefore,

for the reign of Constantine a more exact picture of the new

empire, we shall content ourselves with describing the principal

and decisive outline, as it was traced by the hand of Diocletian.

He had associated three colleagues in the exercise of the supreme

power; and as he was convinced that the abilities of a single man

were inadequate to the public defence, he considered the joint

administration of four princes not as a temporary expedient, but

as a fundamental law of the constitution. It was his intention

that the two elder princes should be distinguished by the use of

the diadem, and the title of _Augusti_; that, as affection or

esteem might direct their choice, they should regularly call to

their assistance two subordinate colleagues; and that the

_Cæsars_, rising in their turn to the first rank, should supply

an uninterrupted succession of emperors. The empire was divided

into four parts. The East and Italy were the most honorable, the

Danube and the Rhine the most laborious stations. The former

claimed the presence of the _Augusti_, the latter were intrusted

to the administration of the _Cæsars_. The strength of the

legions was in the hands of the four partners of sovereignty, and

the despair of successively vanquishing four formidable rivals

might intimidate the ambition of an aspiring general. In their

civil government the emperors were supposed to exercise the

undivided power of the monarch, and their edicts, inscribed with

their joint names, were received in all the provinces, as

promulgated by their mutual councils and authority.

Notwithstanding these precautions, the political union of the

Roman world was gradually dissolved, and a principle of division

was introduced, which, in the course of a few years, occasioned

the perpetual separation of the Eastern and Western Empires.

The system of Diocletian was accompanied with another very

material disadvantage, which cannot even at present be totally

overlooked; a more expensive establishment, and consequently an

increase of taxes, and the oppression of the people. Instead of a

modest family of slaves and freedmen, such as had contented the

simple greatness of Augustus and Trajan, three or four

magnificent courts were established in the various parts of the

empire, and as many Roman _kings_ contended with each other and

with the Persian monarch for the vain superiority of pomp and

luxury. The number of ministers, of magistrates, of officers, and

of servants, who filled the different departments of the state,

was multiplied beyond the example of former times; and (if we may

borrow the warm expression of a contemporary) “when the

proportion of those who received exceeded the proportion of those

who contributed, the provinces were oppressed by the weight of

tributes.” From this period to the extinction of the empire, it

would be easy to deduce an uninterrupted series of clamors and

complaints. According to his religion and situation, each writer

chooses either Diocletian, or Constantine, or Valens, or

Theodosius, for the object of his invectives; but they

unanimously agree in representing the burden of the public

impositions, and particularly the land tax and capitation, as the

intolerable and increasing grievance of their own times. From

such a concurrence, an impartial historian, who is obliged to

extract truth from satire, as well as from panegyric, will be

inclined to divide the blame among the princes whom they accuse,

and to ascribe their exactions much less to their personal vices,

than to the uniform system of their administration. * The emperor

Diocletian was indeed the author of that system; but during his

reign, the growing evil was confined within the bounds of modesty

and discretion, and he deserves the reproach of establishing

pernicious precedents, rather than of exercising actual

oppression. It may be added, that his revenues were managed with

prudent economy; and that after all the current expenses were

discharged, there still remained in the Imperial treasury an

ample provision either for judicious liberality or for any

emergency of the state.

It was in the twenty first year of his reign that Diocletian

executed his memorable resolution of abdicating the empire; an

action more naturally to have been expected from the elder or the

younger Antoninus, than from a prince who had never practised the

lessons of philosophy either in the attainment or in the use of

supreme power. Diocletian acquired the glory of giving to the

world the first example of a resignation, which has not been very

frequently imitated by succeeding monarchs. The parallel of

Charles the Fifth, however, will naturally offer itself to our

mind, not only since the eloquence of a modern historian has

rendered that name so familiar to an English reader, but from the

very striking resemblance between the characters of the two

emperors, whose political abilities were superior to their

military genius, and whose specious virtues were much less the

effect of nature than of art. The abdication of Charles appears

to have been hastened by the vicissitudes of fortune; and the

disappointment of his favorite schemes urged him to relinquish a

power which he found inadequate to his ambition. But the reign of

Diocletian had flowed with a tide of uninterrupted success; nor

was it till after he had vanquished all his enemies, and

accomplished all his designs, that he seems to have entertained

any serious thoughts of resigning the empire. Neither Charles nor

Diocletian were arrived at a very advanced period of life; since

the one was only fifty-five, and the other was no more than

fifty-nine years of age; but the active life of those princes,

their wars and journeys, the cares of royalty, and their

application to business, had already impaired their constitution,

and brought on the infirmities of a premature old age.

Notwithstanding the severity of a very cold and rainy winter,

Diocletian left Italy soon after the ceremony of his triumph, and

began his progress towards the East round the circuit of the

Illyrian provinces. From the inclemency of the weather, and the

fatigue of the journey, he soon contracted a slow illness; and

though he made easy marches, and was generally carried in a close

litter, his disorder, before he arrived at Nicomedia, about the

end of the summer, was become very serious and alarming. During

the whole winter he was confined to his palace: his danger

inspired a general and unaffected concern; but the people could

only judge of the various alterations of his health, from the joy

or consternation which they discovered in the countenances and

behavior of his attendants. The rumor of his death was for some

time universally believed, and it was supposed to be concealed

with a view to prevent the troubles that might have happened

during the absence of the Cæsar Galerius. At length, however, on

the first of March, Diocletian once more appeared in public, but

so pale and emaciated, that he could scarcely have been

recognized by those to whom his person was the most familiar. It

was time to put an end to the painful struggle, which he had

sustained during more than a year, between the care of his health

and that of his dignity. The former required indulgence and

relaxation, the latter compelled him to direct, from the bed of

sickness, the administration of a great empire. He resolved to

pass the remainder of his days in honorable repose, to place his

glory beyond the reach of fortune, and to relinquish the theatre

of the world to his younger and more active associates.

The ceremony of his abdication was performed in a spacious plain,

about three miles from Nicomedia. The emperor ascended a lofty

throne, and in a speech, full of reason and dignity, declared his

intention, both to the people and to the soldiers who were

assembled on this extraordinary occasion. As soon as he had

divested himself of his purple, he withdrew from the gazing

multitude; and traversing the city in a covered chariot,

proceeded, without delay, to the favorite retirement which he had

chosen in his native country of Dalmatia. On the same day, which

was the first of May, Maximian, as it had been previously

concerted, made his resignation of the Imperial dignity at Milan.

Even in the splendor of the Roman triumph, Diocletian had

meditated his design of abdicating the government. As he wished

to secure the obedience of Maximian, he exacted from him either a

general assurance that he would submit his actions to the

authority of his benefactor, or a particular promise that he

would descend from the throne, whenever he should receive the

advice and the example. This engagement, though it was confirmed

by the solemnity of an oath before the altar of the Capitoline

Jupiter, would have proved a feeble restraint on the fierce

temper of Maximian, whose passion was the love of power, and who

neither desired present tranquility nor future reputation. But he

yielded, however reluctantly, to the ascendant which his wiser

colleague had acquired over him, and retired, immediately after

his abdication, to a villa in Lucania, where it was almost

impossible that such an impatient spirit could find any lasting

tranquility.

Diocletian, who, from a servile origin, had raised himself to the

throne, passed the nine last years of his life in a private

condition. Reason had dictated, and content seems to have

accompanied, his retreat, in which he enjoyed, for a long time,

the respect of those princes to whom he had resigned the

possession of the world. It is seldom that minds long exercised

in business have formed any habits of conversing with themselves,

and in the loss of power they principally regret the want of

occupation. The amusements of letters and of devotion, which

afford so many resources in solitude, were incapable of fixing

the attention of Diocletian; but he had preserved, or at least he

soon recovered, a taste for the most innocent as well as natural

pleasures, and his leisure hours were sufficiently employed in

building, planting, and gardening. His answer to Maximian is

deservedly celebrated. He was solicited by that restless old man

to reassume the reins of government, and the Imperial purple. He

rejected the temptation with a smile of pity, calmly observing,

that if he could show Maximian the cabbages which he had planted

with his own hands at Salona, he should no longer be urged to

relinquish the enjoyment of happiness for the pursuit of power.

In his conversations with his friends, he frequently

acknowledged, that of all arts, the most difficult was the art of

reigning; and he expressed himself on that favorite topic with a

degree of warmth which could be the result only of experience.

“How often,” was he accustomed to say, “is it the interest of

four or five ministers to combine together to deceive their

sovereign! Secluded from mankind by his exalted dignity, the

truth is concealed from his knowledge; he can see only with their

eyes, he hears nothing but their misrepresentations. He confers

the most important offices upon vice and weakness, and disgraces

the most virtuous and deserving among his subjects. By such

infamous arts,” added Diocletian, “the best and wisest princes

are sold to the venal corruption of their courtiers.” A just

estimate of greatness, and the assurance of immortal fame,

improve our relish for the pleasures of retirement; but the Roman

emperor had filled too important a character in the world, to

enjoy without alloy the comforts and security of a private

condition. It was impossible that he could remain ignorant of the

troubles which afflicted the empire after his abdication. It was

impossible that he could be indifferent to their consequences.

Fear, sorrow, and discontent, sometimes pursued him into the

solitude of Salona. His tenderness, or at least his pride, was

deeply wounded by the misfortunes of his wife and daughter; and

the last moments of Diocletian were imbittered by some affronts,

which Licinius and Constantine might have spared the father of so

many emperors, and the first author of their own fortune. A

report, though of a very doubtful nature, has reached our times,

that he prudently withdrew himself from their power by a

voluntary death.

Before we dismiss the consideration of the life and character of

Diocletian, we may, for a moment, direct our view to the place of

his retirement. Salona, a principal city of his native province

of Dalmatia, was near two hundred Roman miles (according to the

measurement of the public highways) from Aquileia and the

confines of Italy, and about two hundred and seventy from

Sirmium, the usual residence of the emperors whenever they

visited the Illyrian frontier. A miserable village still

preserves the name of Salona; but so late as the sixteenth

century, the remains of a theatre, and a confused prospect of

broken arches and marble columns, continued to attest its ancient

splendor. About six or seven miles from the city Diocletian

constructed a magnificent palace, and we may infer, from the

greatness of the work, how long he had meditated his design of

abdicating the empire. The choice of a spot which united all that

could contribute either to health or to luxury did not require

the partiality of a native. “The soil was dry and fertile, the

air is pure and wholesome, and, though extremely hot during the

summer months, this country seldom feels those sultry and noxious

winds to which the coasts of Istria and some parts of Italy are

exposed. The views from the palace are no less beautiful than the

soil and climate were inviting. Towards the west lies the fertile

shore that stretches along the Adriatic, in which a number of

small islands are scattered in such a manner as to give this part

of the sea the appearance of a great lake. On the north side lies

the bay, which led to the ancient city of Salona; and the country

beyond it, appearing in sight, forms a proper contrast to that

more extensive prospect of water, which the Adriatic presents

both to the south and to the east. Towards the north, the view is

terminated by high and irregular mountains, situated at a proper

distance, and in many places covered with villages, woods, and

vineyards.”

Though Constantine, from a very obvious prejudice, affects to

mention the palace of Diocletian with contempt, yet one of their

successors, who could only see it in a neglected and mutilated

state, celebrates its magnificence in terms of the highest

admiration. It covered an extent of ground consisting of between

nine and ten English acres. The form was quadrangular, flanked

with sixteen towers. Two of the sides were near six hundred, and

the other two near seven hundred feet in length. The whole was

constructed of a beautiful freestone, extracted from the

neighboring quarries of Trau, or Tragutium, and very little

inferior to marble itself. Four streets, intersecting each other

at right angles, divided the several parts of this great edifice,

and the approach to the principal apartment was from a very

stately entrance, which is still denominated the Golden Gate. The

approach was terminated by a peristylium of granite columns, on

one side of which we discover the square temple of Æsculapius, on

the other the octagon temple of Jupiter. The latter of those

deities Diocletian revered as the patron of his fortunes, the

former as the protector of his health. By comparing the present

remains with the precepts of Vitruvius, the several parts of the

building, the baths, bedchamber, the atrium, the basilica, and

the Cyzicene, Corinthian, and Egyptian halls have been described

with some degree of precision, or at least of probability. Their

forms were various, their proportions just; but they all were

attended with two imperfections, very repugnant to our modern

notions of taste and conveniency. These stately rooms had neither

windows nor chimneys. They were lighted from the top, (for the

building seems to have consisted of no more than one story,) and

they received their heat by the help of pipes that were conveyed

along the walls. The range of principal apartments was protected

towards the south-west by a portico five hundred and seventeen

feet long, which must have formed a very noble and delightful

walk, when the beauties of painting and sculpture were added to

those of the prospect.

Had this magnificent edifice remained in a solitary country, it

would have been exposed to the ravages of time; but it might,

perhaps, have escaped the rapacious industry of man. The village

of Aspalathus, and, long afterwards, the provincial town of

Spalatro, have grown out of its ruins. The Golden Gate now opens

into the market-place. St. John the Baptist has usurped the

honors of Æsculapius; and the temple of Jupiter, under the

protection of the Virgin, is converted into the cathedral church.

For this account of Diocletian’s palace we are principally

indebted to an ingenious artist of our own time and country, whom

a very liberal curiosity carried into the heart of Dalmatia. But

there is room to suspect that the elegance of his designs and

engraving has somewhat flattered the objects which it was their

purpose to represent. We are informed by a more recent and very

judicious traveller, that the awful ruins of Spalatro are not

less expressive of the decline of the art than of the greatness

of the Roman empire in the time of Diocletian. If such was indeed

the state of architecture, we must naturally believe that

painting and sculpture had experienced a still more sensible

decay. The practice of architecture is directed by a few general

and even mechanical rules. But sculpture, and, above all,

painting, propose to themselves the imitation not only of the

forms of nature, but of the characters and passions of the human

soul. In those sublime arts the dexterity of the hand is of

little avail, unless it is animated by fancy, and guided by the

most correct taste and observation.

It is almost unnecessary to remark, that the civil distractions

of the empire, the license of the soldiers, the inroads of the

barbarians, and the progress of despotism, had proved very

unfavorable to genius, and even to learning. The succession of

Illyrian princes restored the empire without restoring the

sciences. Their military education was not calculated to inspire

them with the love of letters; and even the mind of Diocletian,

however active and capacious in business, was totally uninformed

by study or speculation. The professions of law and physic are of

such common use and certain profit that they will always secure a

sufficient number of practitioners endowed with a reasonable

degree of abilities and knowledge; but it does not appear that

the students in those two faculties appeal to any celebrated

masters who have flourished within that period. The voice of

poetry was silent. History was reduced to dry and confused

abridgments, alike destitute of amusement and instruction. A

languid and affected eloquence was still retained in the pay and

service of the emperors, who encouraged not any arts except those

which contributed to the gratification of their pride, or the

defence of their power.

The declining age of learning and of mankind is marked, however,

by the rise and rapid progress of the new Platonists. The school

of Alexandria silenced those of Athens; and the ancient sects

enrolled themselves under the banners of the more fashionable

teachers, who recommended their system by the novelty of their

method, and the austerity of their manners. Several of these

masters, Ammonius, Plotinus, Amelius, and Porphyry, were men of

profound thought and intense application; but by mistaking the

true object of philosophy, their labors contributed much less to

improve than to corrupt the human understanding. The knowledge

that is suited to our situation and powers, the whole compass of

moral, natural, and mathematical science, was neglected by the

new Platonists; whilst they exhausted their strength in the

verbal disputes of metaphysics, attempted to explore the secrets

of the invisible world, and studied to reconcile Aristotle with

Plato, on subjects of which both these philosophers were as

ignorant as the rest of mankind. Consuming their reason in these

deep but unsubstantial meditations, their minds were exposed to

illusions of fancy. They flattered themselves that they possessed

the secret of disengaging the soul from its corporal prison;

claimed a familiar intercourse with demons and spirits; and, by a

very singular revolution, converted the study of philosophy into

that of magic. The ancient sages had derided the popular

superstition; after disguising its extravagance by the thin

pretence of allegory, the disciples of Plotinus and Porphyry

became its most zealous defenders. As they agreed with the

Christians in a few mysterious points of faith, they attacked the

remainder of their theological system with all the fury of civil

war. The new Platonists would scarcely deserve a place in the

history of science, but in that of the church the mention of them

will very frequently occur.

Chapter XIV: Six Emperors At The Same Time, Reunion Of The

Empire.—Part I.

Troubles After The Abdication Of Diocletian.—Death Of

Constantius.—Elevation Of Constantine And Maxentius. ­ Six Emperors At

The Same Time.—Death Of Maximian And Galerius.— Victories Of

Constantine Over Maxentius And Licinus.— Reunion Of The Empire Under

The Authority Of Constantine.

The balance of power established by Diocletian subsisted no

longer than while it was sustained by the firm and dexterous hand

of the founder. It required such a fortunate mixture of different

tempers and abilities as could scarcely be found or even expected

a second time; two emperors without jealousy, two Cæsars without

ambition, and the same general interest invariably pursued by

four independent princes. The abdication of Diocletian and

Maximian was succeeded by eighteen years of discord and

confusion. The empire was afflicted by five civil wars; and the

remainder of the time was not so much a state of tranquillity as

a suspension of arms between several hostile monarchs, who,

viewing each other with an eye of fear and hatred, strove to

increase their respective forces at the expense of their

subjects.

As soon as Diocletian and Maximian had resigned the purple, their

station, according to the rules of the new constitution, was

filled by the two Cæsars, Constantius and Galerius, who

immediately assumed the title of Augustus.

The honors of seniority and precedence were allowed to the former

of those princes, and he continued under a new appellation to

administer his ancient department of Gaul, Spain, and Britain.

The government of those ample provinces was sufficient to

exercise his talents and to satisfy his ambition. Clemency,

temperance, and moderation, distinguished the amiable character

of Constantius, and his fortunate subjects had frequently

occasion to compare the virtues of their sovereign with the

passions of Maximian, and even with the arts of Diocletian.

Instead of imitating their eastern pride and magnificence,

Constantius preserved the modesty of a Roman prince. He declared,

with unaffected sincerity, that his most valued treasure was in

the hearts of his people, and that, whenever the dignity of the

throne, or the danger of the state, required any extraordinary

supply, he could depend with confidence on their gratitude and

liberality. The provincials of Gaul, Spain, and Britain, sensible

of his worth, and of their own happiness, reflected with anxiety

on the declining health of the emperor Constantius, and the

tender age of his numerous family, the issue of his second

marriage with the daughter of Maximian.

The stern temper of Galerius was cast in a very different mould;

and while he commanded the esteem of his subjects, he seldom

condescended to solicit their affections. His fame in arms, and,

above all, the success of the Persian war, had elated his haughty

mind, which was naturally impatient of a superior, or even of an

equal. If it were possible to rely on the partial testimony of an

injudicious writer, we might ascribe the abdication of Diocletian

to the menaces of Galerius, and relate the particulars of a

_private_ conversation between the two princes, in which the

former discovered as much pusillanimity as the latter displayed

ingratitude and arrogance. But these obscure anecdotes are

sufficiently refuted by an impartial view of the character and

conduct of Diocletian. Whatever might otherwise have been his

intentions, if he had apprehended any danger from the violence of

Galerius, his good sense would have instructed him to prevent the

ignominious contest; and as he had held the sceptre with glory,

he would have resigned it without disgrace.

After the elevation of Constantius and Galerius to the rank of

_Augusti_, two new _Cæsars_ were required to supply their place,

and to complete the system of the Imperial government. Diocletian

was sincerely desirous of withdrawing himself from the world; he

considered Galerius, who had married his daughter, as the firmest

support of his family and of the empire; and he consented,

without reluctance, that his successor should assume the merit as

well as the envy of the important nomination. It was fixed

without consulting the interest or inclination of the princes of

the West. Each of them had a son who was arrived at the age of

manhood, and who might have been deemed the most natural

candidates for the vacant honor. But the impotent resentment of

Maximian was no longer to be dreaded; and the moderate

Constantius, though he might despise the dangers, was humanely

apprehensive of the calamities, of civil war. The two persons

whom Galerius promoted to the rank of Cæsar were much better

suited to serve the views of his ambition; and their principal

recommendation seems to have consisted in the want of merit or

personal consequence. The first of these was Daza, or, as he was

afterwards called, Maximin, whose mother was the sister of

Galerius. The unexperienced youth still betrayed, by his manners

and language, his rustic education, when, to his own

astonishment, as well as that of the world, he was invested by

Diocletian with the purple, exalted to the dignity of Cæsar, and

intrusted with the sovereign command of Egypt and Syria. At the

same time, Severus, a faithful servant, addicted to pleasure, but

not incapable of business, was sent to Milan, to receive, from

the reluctant hands of Maximian, the Cæsarian ornaments, and the

possession of Italy and Africa. According to the forms of the

constitution, Severus acknowledged the supremacy of the western

emperor; but he was absolutely devoted to the commands of his

benefactor Galerius, who, reserving to himself the intermediate

countries from the confines of Italy to those of Syria, firmly

established his power over three fourths of the monarchy. In the

full confidence that the approaching death of Constantius would

leave him sole master of the Roman world, we are assured that he

had arranged in his mind a long succession of future princes, and

that he meditated his own retreat from public life, after he

should have accomplished a glorious reign of about twenty years.

But within less than eighteen months, two unexpected revolutions

overturned the ambitious schemes of Galerius. The hopes of

uniting the western provinces to his empire were disappointed by

the elevation of Constantine, whilst Italy and Africa were lost

by the successful revolt of Maxentius.

I. The fame of Constantine has rendered posterity attentive to

the most minute circumstances of his life and actions. The place

of his birth, as well as the condition of his mother Helena, have

been the subject, not only of literary, but of national disputes.

Notwithstanding the recent tradition, which assigns for her

father a British king, we are obliged to confess, that Helena was

the daughter of an innkeeper; but at the same time, we may defend

the legality of her marriage, against those who have represented

her as the concubine of Constantius. The great Constantine was

most probably born at Naissus, in Dacia; and it is not surprising

that, in a family and province distinguished only by the

profession of arms, the youth should discover very little

inclination to improve his mind by the acquisition of knowledge.

He was about eighteen years of age when his father was promoted

to the rank of Cæsar; but that fortunate event was attended with

his mother’s divorce; and the splendor of an Imperial alliance

reduced the son of Helena to a state of disgrace and humiliation.

Instead of following Constantius in the West, he remained in the

service of Diocletian, signalized his valor in the wars of Egypt

and Persia, and gradually rose to the honorable station of a

tribune of the first order. The figure of Constantine was tall

and majestic; he was dexterous in all his exercises, intrepid in

war, affable in peace; in his whole conduct, the active spirit of

youth was tempered by habitual prudence; and while his mind was

engrossed by ambition, he appeared cold and insensible to the

allurements of pleasure. The favor of the people and soldiers,

who had named him as a worthy candidate for the rank of Cæsar,

served only to exasperate the jealousy of Galerius; and though

prudence might restrain him from exercising any open violence, an

absolute monarch is seldom at a loss how to execute a sure and

secret evenge. Every hour increased the danger of Constantine,

and the anxiety of his father, who, by repeated letters,

expressed the warmest desire of embracing his son. For some time

the policy of Galerius supplied him with delays and excuses; but

it was impossible long to refuse so natural a request of his

associate, without maintaining his refusal by arms. The

permission of the journey was reluctantly granted, and whatever

precautions the emperor might have taken to intercept a return,

the consequences of which he, with so much reason, apprehended,

they were effectually disappointed by the incredible diligence of

Constantine. Leaving the palace of Nicomedia in the night, he

travelled post through Bithynia, Thrace, Dacia, Pannonia, Italy,

and Gaul, and, amidst the joyful acclamations of the people,

reached the port of Boulogne in the very moment when his father

was preparing to embark for Britain.

The British expedition, and an easy victory over the barbarians

of Caledonia, were the last exploits of the reign of Constantius.

He ended his life in the Imperial palace of York, fifteen months

after he had received the title of Augustus, and almost fourteen

years and a half after he had been promoted to the rank of Cæsar.

His death was immediately succeeded by the elevation of

Constantine. The ideas of inheritance and succession are so very

familiar, that the generality of mankind consider them as founded

not only in reason but in nature itself. Our imagination readily

transfers the same principles from private property to public

dominion: and whenever a virtuous father leaves behind him a son

whose merit seems to justify the esteem, or even the hopes, of

the people, the joint influence of prejudice and of affection

operates with irresistible weight. The flower of the western

armies had followed Constantius into Britain, and the national

troops were reënforced by a numerous body of Alemanni, who obeyed

the orders of Crocus, one of their hereditary chieftains. The

opinion of their own importance, and the assurance that Britain,

Gaul, and Spain would acquiesce in their nomination, were

diligently inculcated to the legions by the adherents of

Constantine. The soldiers were asked, whether they could hesitate

a moment between the honor of placing at their head the worthy

son of their beloved emperor, and the ignominy of tamely

expecting the arrival of some obscure stranger, on whom it might

please the sovereign of Asia to bestow the armies and provinces

of the West. It was insinuated to them, that gratitude and

liberality held a distinguished place among the virtues of

Constantine; nor did that artful prince show himself to the

troops, till they were prepared to salute him with the names of

Augustus and Emperor. The throne was the object of his desires;

and had he been less actuated by ambition, it was his only means

of safety. He was well acquainted with the character and

sentiments of Galerius, and sufficiently apprised, that if he

wished to live he must determine to reign. The decent and even

obstinate resistance which he chose to affect, was contrived to

justify his usurpation; nor did he yield to the acclamations of

the army, till he had provided the proper materials for a letter,

which he immediately despatched to the emperor of the East.

Constantine informed him of the melancholy event of his father’s

death, modestly asserted his natural claim to the succession, and

respectfully lamented, that the affectionate violence of his

troops had not permitted him to solicit the Imperial purple in

the regular and constitutional manner. The first emotions of

Galerius were those of surprise, disappointment, and rage; and as

he could seldom restrain his passions, he loudly threatened, that

he would commit to the flames both the letter and the messenger.

But his resentment insensibly subsided; and when he recollected

the doubtful chance of war, when he had weighed the character and

strength of his adversary, he consented to embrace the honorable

accommodation which the prudence of Constantine had left open to

him. Without either condemning or ratifying the choice of the

British army, Galerius accepted the son of his deceased colleague

as the sovereign of the provinces beyond the Alps; but he gave

him only the title of Cæsar, and the fourth rank among the Roman

princes, whilst he conferred the vacant place of Augustus on his

favorite Severus. The apparent harmony of the empire was still

preserved, and Constantine, who already possessed the substance,

expected, without impatience, an opportunity of obtaining the

honors, of supreme power.

The children of Constantius by his second marriage were six in

number, three of either sex, and whose Imperial descent might

have solicited a preference over the meaner extraction of the son

of Helena. But Constantine was in the thirty-second year of his

age, in the full vigor both of mind and body, at the time when

the eldest of his brothers could not possibly be more than

thirteen years old. His claim of superior merit had been allowed

and ratified by the dying emperor. In his last moments

Constantius bequeathed to his eldest son the care of the safety

as well as greatness of the family; conjuring him to assume both

the authority and the sentiments of a father with regard to the

children of Theodora. Their liberal education, advantageous

marriages, the secure dignity of their lives, and the first

honors of the state with which they were invested, attest the

fraternal affection of Constantine; and as those princes

possessed a mild and grateful disposition, they submitted without

reluctance to the superiority of his genius and fortune.

II. The ambitious spirit of Galerius was scarcely reconciled to

the disappointment of his views upon the Gallic provinces, before

the unexpected loss of Italy wounded his pride as well as power

in a still more sensible part. The long absence of the emperors

had filled Rome with discontent and indignation; and the people

gradually discovered, that the preference given to Nicomedia and

Milan was not to be ascribed to the particular inclination of

Diocletian, but to the permanent form of government which he had

instituted. It was in vain that, a few months after his

abdication, his successors dedicated, under his name, those

magnificent baths, whose ruins still supply the ground as well as

the materials for so many churches and convents. The tranquility

of those elegant recesses of ease and luxury was disturbed by the

impatient murmurs of the Romans, and a report was insensibly

circulated, that the sums expended in erecting those buildings

would soon be required at their hands. About that time the

avarice of Galerius, or perhaps the exigencies of the state, had

induced him to make a very strict and rigorous inquisition into

the property of his subjects, for the purpose of a general

taxation, both on their lands and on their persons. A very minute

survey appears to have been taken of their real estates; and

wherever there was the slightest suspicion of concealment,

torture was very freely employed to obtain a sincere declaration

of their personal wealth. The privileges which had exalted Italy

above the rank of the provinces were no longer regarded: * and

the officers of the revenue already began to number the Roman

people, and to settle the proportion of the new taxes. Even when

the spirit of freedom had been utterly extinguished, the tamest

subjects have sometimes ventured to resist an unprecedented

invasion of their property; but on this occasion the injury was

aggravated by the insult, and the sense of private interest was

quickened by that of national honor. The conquest of Macedonia,

as we have already observed, had delivered the Roman people from

the weight of personal taxes. Though they had experienced every

form of despotism, they had now enjoyed that exemption near five

hundred years; nor could they patiently brook the insolence of an

Illyrian peasant, who, from his distant residence in Asia,

presumed to number Rome among the tributary cities of his empire.

The rising fury of the people was encouraged by the authority, or

at least the connivance, of the senate; and the feeble remains of

the Prætorian guards, who had reason to apprehend their own

dissolution, embraced so honorable a pretence, and declared their

readiness to draw their swords in the service of their oppressed

country. It was the wish, and it soon became the hope, of every

citizen, that after expelling from Italy their foreign tyrants,

they should elect a prince who, by the place of his residence,

and by his maxims of government, might once more deserve the

title of Roman emperor. The name, as well as the situation, of

Maxentius determined in his favor the popular enthusiasm.

Maxentius was the son of the emperor Maximian, and he had married

the daughter of Galerius. His birth and alliance seemed to offer

him the fairest promise of succeeding to the empire; but his

vices and incapacity procured him the same exclusion from the

dignity of Cæsar, which Constantine had deserved by a dangerous

superiority of merit. The policy of Galerius preferred such

associates as would never disgrace the choice, nor dispute the

commands, of their benefactor. An obscure stranger was therefore

raised to the throne of Italy, and the son of the late emperor of

the West was left to enjoy the luxury of a private fortune in a

villa a few miles distant from the capital. The gloomy passions

of his soul, shame, vexation, and rage, were inflamed by envy on

the news of Constantine’s success; but the hopes of Maxentius

revived with the public discontent, and he was easily persuaded

to unite his personal injury and pretensions with the cause of

the Roman people. Two Prætorian tribunes and a commissary of

provisions undertook the management of the conspiracy; and as

every order of men was actuated by the same spirit, the immediate

event was neither doubtful nor difficult. The præfect of the

city, and a few magistrates, who maintained their fidelity to

Severus, were massacred by the guards; and Maxentius, invested

with the Imperial ornaments, was acknowledged by the applauding

senate and people as the protector of the Roman freedom and

dignity. It is uncertain whether Maximian was previously

acquainted with the conspiracy; but as soon as the standard of

rebellion was erected at Rome, the old emperor broke from the

retirement where the authority of Diocletian had condemned him to

pass a life of melancholy and solitude, and concealed his

returning ambition under the disguise of paternal tenderness. At

the request of his son and of the senate, he condescended to

reassume the purple. His ancient dignity, his experience, and his

fame in arms, added strength as well as reputation to the party

of Maxentius.