the

and Alans crowded to the standard of Theodosius, who found Maximus encamped near Siscia, on the banks of the Save. The light cavalry of the barbarians flung themselves into that deep and rapid river the moment they reached it, and routed the troops which guarded the opposite bank. Next morning a general action ensued, which terminated in the submission of the surviving troops of Maximus, who fled to Aquileia, whither he was rapidly followed by Theodosius. The gates were burst open; the unfortunate Maximus was dragged into presence of the victor, who, having reproached him with his misdeeds, delivered him to the vengeance of the soldiers, by whom his head was struck off. His son Victor, whom he had given the rank of Cæsar and left behind him in Gaul, was put to death by count Arbogast, one of Theodosius's generals, by the order of that emperor, and the whole of the West was thus subjected to the rule of Valentinian. The generous Theodosius compensated those who had suffered by the oppression of Maximus, and he assigned an income to the mother of that ill-fated prince, and provided for the education of his daughters.

Theodosius, after his victory, remained three years in Italy to regulate the affairs of the West for his juvenile colleague. In the spring of the year 389 he made a triumphal entrance into the ancient capital of the empire, but his usual abode was the palace of Milan.

While Theodosius was residing in Italy (390) an unhappy event occurred, which casts almost the only shade over his fair fame. In the city of Thessalonica an eminent charioteer of the circus conceived an impure affection for a beautiful boy, one of the slaves of Botheric, the commander of the garrison to punish his insolence Botheric cast him into prison. On the day of the games, the people, with whom he was a great favorite, enraged at his absence, rose in insurrection, and as the garrison was then very small, they massacred Botheric and his principal officers, and dragged their bodies about the streets. Theodosius, who was of a choleric temper, was filled with fury when he heard of this atrocious deed. His first resolution was to take a bloody revenge; the efforts

of the bishops then led him to thoughts of clemency, but the arguments of his minister Ruffinus induced him finally to expedite an order for military execution. He then attempted to recall the order, but it was too late. The people of Thessalonica were in the name of the emperor invited to the games of the circus. Their love of amusement overcoming their fear of punishment, they hastened to it in crowds; when the place was full, the soldiers, who were posted for the purpose, received the signal, and an indiscriminate massacre ensued. The lowest computation gives the number of those slain as seven thousand.

The archbishop of Milan at this time was the intrepid Ambrose. When he heard of the bloody deed he retired to the country, whence he wrote to the emperor to say that he had been warned in a vision not to offer the oblation in his name or presence, and advising him not to think of receiving the Eucharist with his blood-stained hands. Theodosius acknowledged and bewailed his offence, and after some time proceeded to the cathedral to perform his devotions; but Ambrose met him at the porch, opposed his entrance, and insisted on the necessity of a public penance. Theodosius submitted, and the lord of the Roman world, laying aside his imperial habit, appeared in the posture of a suppliant in the midst of the church of Milan, with tears soliciting the pardon of his sin. After a penance of eight months he was restored to the communion of the faithful.

To the cruelty of Theodosius on this occasion may be opposed his clemency some time before to the people of Antioch. This lively licentious people, being galled by an increase of taxation (387), flung down, dragged through the streets, and broke the images of Theodosius and his family. The governor of the province sent to court information of this act of treason; the Antiochenes despatched envoys to testify their repentance. After a space of twenty-four days two officers of high rank arrived to declare the will of the emperor. Antioeh was to be degraded from its rank and made a village under the jurisdiction of Laodicea; all its places of amusement were to be shut up, the distribution of corn to be stopt, and the guilty to be inquired after and punished. A tribunal was erected in the market-place, the most wealthy citizens were laid in chains and their houses exposed to sale, when monks and hermits descended in crowds from the mountains, and at their intercession one of the officers agreed to return

to court and learn the present disposition of the emperor. The anger of the generous Theodosius had subsided ere he arrived, and a full and free pardon was readily accorded to the repentant city.

Valentinian, after the death of his mother and the departure of Theodosius, fixed his abode in Gaul. His troops were commanded by count Arbogast, a Frank by birth, who had held a high rank in the service of Gratian, after whose death he had passed to that of Theodosius. Aware of the weakness of his young sovereign, the ambitious barbarian raised his thoughts to empire. He corrupted the troops, he gave the chief commands to his countrymen, he surrounded the prince with his creatures, and Valentinian found himself little better than a prisoner in the palace of Vienne. He sent to inform Theodosius of his situation; but impatient of delay, he summoned Arbogast to his presence, and delivered him a paper containing his dismissal from his posts. “You have not given me my authority, and you cannot take it away,” was the reply of the general, and he tore the paper and cast it on the ground. Valentinian snatched a sword from one of the guards, but he was prevented from using it. A few days after he was privately strangled, and a report was spread that he had died by his own hand (May 15, 392).

Arbogast, deeming it more prudent to reign under the name of another than to assume the purple himself, selected for his imperial puppet a rhetorician named Eugenius, who had been his secretary, and whom he had raised to the rank of master of the offices. An embassy was despatched to Theodosius to lament the unfortunate accident of the death of Valentinian, and to pray him to acquiesce in the choice of the armies and people of the West. Theodosius acted with his usual caution; he dismissed the ambassadors with presents and with an ambiguous answer; but he was secretly swayed by the tears of his wife, and resolved to avenge the death of her brother. After devoting two years to his preparations for this hazardous war, he at length (394) put himself at the head of his troops and directed his march for Italy. Arbo

gast, taking warning by the errors of Maximus, contracted his line of defence, and abandoning the northern provinces and leaving unguarded the passes of the Julian Alps, encamped his troops under the walls of Aquileia. Theodosius, on emerging from the mountains, made a furious assault on the fortified camp of the enemy, in which ten thousand of his Gothic troops perished. At nightfall he retired baffled to the adjacent hills, where he passed a sleepless night, while the camp of the enemy rang with rejoicings. Arbogast, having secretly sent a large body of troops to get into the rear of the emperor, prepared to assail him in the morning (Sept. 6). But the leaders of these troops assured Theodosius of their allegiance; and in the engagement a sudden tempest from the Alps blew full in the faces of those of the enemy; and their superstition leading them to view in it the hand of Heaven, they flung down their arms and submitted. Eugenius was taken and put to death; Arbogast, after wandering some days through the mountains, perished by his own hand.

Theodosius survived his victory only five months. Though he was not more than fifty years of age, indulgence had undermined his constitution, and he died of dropsy at Milan (Jan. 17, 395), leaving his dominions to his two sons Arcadius and Honorius.

The character of the great Theodosius is one which it is gratifying to contemplate. Called from a private station to empire, he was still the same in principle and conduct; and, the surest evidence of native greatness of soul, he remained unchanged by prosperity. He was an affectionate and faithful husband to both his wives, a fond parent, a generous and kind relation, an affable and agreeable companion, and a steady friend. As a sovereign, he was a lover of justice, a wise and benevolent legislator, an able and successful general. His defects were too slavish a submission to some intolerant ecclesiastics, which led to the enactment of persecuting laws against heretics and pagans; a violence of temper which we have seen exemplified in the massacre of Thessalonica; a love of indolence and an over-fondness for the pleasures of the table, which brought him to a premature death, to the great calamity of the empire.

The reign of Theodosius forms an epoch in the history of the Roman empire. He was the last who ruled over the whole empire, and it was in his time that the ancient system of religion, under which Rome had risen, flourished, and com

menced, at least, her decline, was finally and permanently suppressed. His reign was also the last in which Rome appeared with any remnant of her original dignity on the scene of the world. It will surely not be accounted impiety or superstition, if we say that the eloquent appeals and lamentations of the advocates for the old religion were not without foundation; and that in the order of Providence, Rome's greatness had been indissolubly united with her Pontifices, Augurs and Vestals. Such seems undeniably to have been the fact, the cause is probably inscrutable.

If we credit the complaints of contemporary writers, luxury was continually on the increase, and manners became more depraved every day. These statements are, however, to be received with caution; and how either luxury or depravity could exceed that under the successors of Augustus, it is not easy to discern. Property had of late years been somewhat more secure from the rapacity of the court, and the terrors of the barbarians were as yet too remote to produce that recklessness which consumes today what it is not certain of possessing tomorrow. The censurers in fact are either splenetic pagans, eager to cast a slur on the new faith, or christian ascetics, who viewed all indulgence with a jaundiced eye. We are very far from saying that the morals of this period were pure, or at all comparable with those of modern Europe; we only doubt if they were worse than those of the times of Tiberius and Nero.

A striking proof, however, was given at this time, that the thews and sinews of the Roman soldier were no longer what they had been in the days of the republic. The infantry craved and obtained permission to lay aside their helmets and corselets, as oppressing them with their extreme weight. Even future misfortunes could not induce them to resume these arms, and this among other causes contributed to the speedy downfall of the empire.

Literature continued to share in the general decline. Poetry might be regarded as extinct; history has only to present the name of Ammianus Marcellinus, who however among the historians of the empire stands next in rank to Tacitus, though at a very long interval. The Sophists, that is those to whom the manner was every thing, the matter of comparatively little importance, were the class of literary men held in most esteem. Orations, panegyrics, public or private epistles, in which the absence of fruit is sought to be concealed by the abundance of foliage and flowers, form the store