Divine Institutes & On the Deaths of the Persecutors 2

The Lord has heard your prayers, dearest Donatus, which you poured out in His sight at all hours every day, and those of our other brethren, who by their glorious confession sought for themselves an everlasting crown as the reward of their faith. Behold, now that all our adversaries are blotted out, and tranquillity is restored throughout the world, the Church, lately laid low, rises up again, and the temple of God, which had been overthrown by the impious, is rebuilt with greater glory by the mercy of the Lord. For God has raised up princes who rescinded the wicked and bloody commands of the tyrants and provided for the human race, so that now, as though the cloud of a most sorrowful time has been dispelled, a pleasant and serene peace gladdens the minds of all.

Now, after the violent whirlwinds of the black tempest, calm air and the longed-for light have shone forth again. Now God, appeased by the prayers of His servants, has lifted up by heavenly aid those who were cast down and afflicted; now He has wiped away the tears of the mourners, the conspiracy of the impious being extinguished. Those who had insulted God lie low; those who had overthrown the holy temple have fallen in a greater ruin; those who tortured the just have poured out their guilty souls amid heavenly plagues and deserved torments. Late indeed, but grievously and worthily. For God had deferred their punishments, that He might display in them great and marvellous examples, by which posterity might learn both that God is one, and that the same Judge inflicts due punishments on the impious and on persecutors.

Concerning whose end it has seemed good to bear witness, so that all who were far removed, or who shall come hereafter, may know to what extent the most high God displayed His power and majesty in extinguishing and blotting out the enemies of His name. Yet it will not be beside the point if I set forth, from the very beginning since the Church was established, who were its persecutors, and with what punishments the severity of the heavenly Judge avenged itself upon them. In the last times of Tiberius Caesar, as we read it written, our Lord Jesus Christ was crucified by the Jews on the tenth day before the Kalends of April, in the consulship of the two Gemini.

When He had risen again on the third day, He gathered the disciples, whom the fear of His arrest had turned to flight, and, abiding with them forty days, He opened their hearts and interpreted the Scriptures, which until that time had been obscure and involved, and He ordained them and instructed them for the preaching of His teaching and doctrine, arranging the solemn discipline of the New Testament. When this office was fulfilled, a whirlwind of cloud wrapped Him about and, taking Him from the sight of men, caught Him up into heaven. And thereupon the disciples, who were then eleven, having taken Matthias and Paul into the place of Judas the traitor, were dispersed throughout the whole earth to preach the Gospel, as the Lord their Master had commanded them.

And for twenty-five years, up to the beginning of Nero's reign, they laid the foundations of churches throughout all the provinces and cities. And when Nero was now reigning, Peter came to Rome and, having performed certain miracles—which he did by the power of God Himself, by the authority given to him from Him—he converted many to righteousness and established for God a faithful and stable temple. When this matter was reported to Nero, since he observed that not only at Rome but everywhere a great multitude was daily falling away from the worship of idols and, condemning the old, was passing over to the new religion, then, abominable and harmful tyrant that he was, he sprang forth to cut down the heavenly temple and to destroy righteousness, and, the first of all to persecute the servants of God, he fixed Peter to a cross and put Paul to death.

Yet he did not go unpunished. For God looked upon the affliction of his people. And so, cast down from the pinnacle of empire and toppled from the heights, the powerless tyrant suddenly appeared nowhere at all, so that not even a place of burial for so wicked a beast was to be seen upon the earth. Hence certain deluded persons believe that he was carried off and kept alive, since the Sibyl declares that a matricide, fleeing, shall come from the ends of the earth, so that, having been the first to persecute, he may also be the last to persecute and may go before the coming of Antichrist; but it is impious to believe this.

Just as certain of the saints declare that two prophets were carried off alive into the last times, before the holy and everlasting kingdom of Christ, when He shall have begun to descend, so likewise they suppose that even Nero shall come, to be the forerunner and herald of the devil as he comes for the devastation of the earth and the overthrow of the human race. After this man, with some years intervening, there arose another tyrant no less wicked, Domitian. Although he wielded a hateful despotism, he nonetheless lay heavily upon the necks of his subjects for a very long time and reigned secure, until he stretched out his impious hands against the Lord. But after he was incited by the instigation of demons to persecute the righteous people, then, delivered into the hands of his enemies, he paid the penalty.

Nor was it enough for vengeance that he was slain in his own house; even the memory of his name was blotted out. For although he had built many marvelous works, and had erected the Capitol and other famous monuments, the Senate so pursued his name that no traces of his inscriptions were left, and by its decrees it branded a mark upon him, even in death, unto everlasting disgrace.

When therefore the acts of the tyrant had been annulled, the Church was not only restored to its former state, but shone forth far more brightly and flourishingly; and in the times that followed, in which many good princes held the helm and governance of the Roman empire, the Church, suffering no assaults from her enemies, stretched out her hands toward the East and the West, so that now there was no corner of the earth so remote that the religion of God had not penetrated it, no nation at last living in manners so savage that, upon receiving the worship of God, it did not grow gentle unto the works of righteousness. But afterward the long peace was broken. For after very many years there arose an execrable creature, Decius, who harassed the Church; for who but a wicked man would persecute righteousness?

And as if for this very purpose he had been raised to that supreme pinnacle, he straightway began to rage against God, that he might straightway fall. For having set out against the Carpi, who had then occupied Dacia and Moesia, he was at once surrounded by the barbarians, and being slain together with a great part of his army, he could not even be honored with burial, but stripped and naked, as befitted an enemy of God, he lay as food for the beasts and birds. Not long after, Valerian also, seized by a like madness, stretched out his impious hands against God, and in a short time shed much innocent blood. But God afflicted him with a new and singular kind of punishment, that he might be a lesson to posterity that the adversaries of God always receive a recompense worthy of their crime.

This man, taken captive by the Persians, lost not only the empire which he had used so insolently, but also the liberty which he had taken from others, and lived most disgracefully in slavery. For Sapor, king of the Persians, the very one who had captured him, whenever he wished to mount a vehicle or a horse, would order the Roman to bow down and offer his back; and setting his foot upon his back, he would say that this was the truth, reproaching him with a laugh, not what the Romans painted on their tablets or walls. Thus that man, most fittingly led in triumph, lived for some time, so that for a long while the Roman name was a mockery and a derision to the barbarians.

This too was added to his punishment: that although he had a son who was emperor, he yet found no avenger of his captivity and his utmost servitude, nor was he ever sought back at all. But after he had ended his shameful life in that disgrace, his skin was flayed off, and the hide, stripped from the flesh, was dyed with a red color, that it might be set up in the temple of the barbarians' gods as a memorial of that most illustrious triumph, and might ever be displayed to our envoys, lest the Romans should trust too much in their own strength, when they beheld the remains of a captive emperor among their gods.

Since therefore God exacted such penalties from the sacrilegious, is it not astonishing that anyone afterward dared not only to act, but even to plot, against the majesty of the one God who rules and contains all things? Aurelian, who was by nature frenzied and headlong, although he remembered the captivity of Valerian, yet, forgetting his crime and his punishment, provoked the wrath of God by cruel deeds. But he was not even permitted to carry out what he had devised, but was straightway extinguished at the very beginning of his fury. His bloody edicts had not yet reached the more distant provinces, and already at Caenophrurium, a place in Thrace, he himself lay bloody upon the ground, slain by his own friends through a certain false suspicion.

By such and so many examples the tyrants that came after ought to have been restrained; but these were not only not terrified, but acted even more boldly and confidently against God. Diocletian, who was the inventor of crimes and the contriver of evils, while he was ruining everything, could not keep his hands even from God. This man overturned the whole world both by avarice and by cowardice. For he made three partners in his rule, dividing the world into four parts, and multiplying the armies, since each of them strove to have a far greater number of soldiers than former princes had possessed when they alone governed the state.

So far had the number of those who received begun to exceed the number of those who gave, that, the resources of the farmers being consumed by the enormity of the levies, the fields were deserted and cultivated land turned into forest. And that all things might be filled with terror, the provinces too were cut into fragments; many governors and more bureaus pressed upon individual regions and now almost upon individual cities; likewise many fiscal agents and masters and deputies of the prefects—under all of whom civil affairs were exceedingly rare, but only condemnations and proscriptions frequent, exactions of countless things, I will not say frequent, but perpetual, and in those exactions intolerable injuries. These things too—how can they be borne, those which concern the furnishing of soldiers?

The same man, with insatiable avarice, never wished his treasuries to be diminished, but was always heaping up extraordinary wealth and largesses, that he might keep whatever he stored away whole and untouched. The same man, when by his various iniquities he had made an immense scarcity, attempted to fix by law the prices of things for sale; then over trifling and cheap goods much blood was shed, nor did anything for sale appear, out of fear, and the scarcity blazed up far worse, until the law, after the destruction of many, was repealed by the very necessity of the case. To this was added a certain boundless passion for building, no less an exaction upon the provinces in furnishing workmen and craftsmen and wagons, and whatever things are necessary for constructing works.

Here a basilica, here a circus, here a mint, here an arms factory, here a house for his wife, here one for his daughter. Suddenly a great part of the city is demolished. All were migrating with their wives and children, as if the city had been taken by enemies. And when these things had been completed, with the ruin of the provinces, "They have not been done rightly," he would say; "let them be done another way." Again it was necessary to tear down and alter, perhaps to fall once more. Thus he was forever raving, striving to make Nicomedia equal to the city of Rome. I now pass over how many perished for the sake of their possessions or their wealth. For this was customary and, by the habit of the wicked, almost permitted.

But in this the chief thing was that, wherever he had seen a more cultivated field or a more ornate building, a false accusation and a capital penalty were already prepared for the owner, as though he could not seize what belonged to others without bloodshed. What of his brother Maximian, who was called Herculius? Not unlike him: for they could not cohere in so faithful a friendship, unless there were in both one mind, the same thinking, an equal will, a like opinion. In this only did they differ, that in the one there was greater avarice but more cowardice, while in the other there was less avarice but more spirit—not for doing good, but for doing evil.

For although he held Italy itself, the seat of empire, and most opulent provinces lay beneath him, whether Africa or Spain, he was not so diligent in guarding wealth, of which an abundance was at his disposal. And when there was need, there were not lacking very rich senators who, by suborned informers, were said to have aspired to the empire, so that the lights of the Senate were continually being dug out. The most bloody treasury overflowed with wealth ill gotten. Moreover, lust in this pestilent man extended not only to corrupting males—which is hateful and detestable—but even to violating the daughters of the foremost men. For wherever he had made his journey, virgins were torn from their parents' embrace and at once made ready for him.

By these things he judged himself happy, in these he thought the felicity of his empire to consist, if he denied nothing to his lust and his evil desire. I pass over Constantius, since he was unlike the rest and worthy to hold the world alone. But the other Maximian, whom Diocletian had taken to himself as a son-in-law, was worse not only than these two whom our times have felt, but than all the wicked men who ever were. In this beast there was a natural barbarity, a savagery foreign to Roman blood: no wonder, since his mother, fleeing from beyond the Danube when the Carpi were harassing it, had crossed the river into New Dacia. His body too was in keeping with his character: a lofty stature, vast flesh spread out and swollen to a horrendous size.

In short, by his words, his deeds, and his very appearance he was a terror and a dread to all. His father-in-law too feared him most keenly, and the cause of this fear was as follows: Narseus, king of the Persians, stirred by the domestic example of his grandfather Sapor, was gaping after the occupation of the East with great forces. Then Diocletian, being, as he always was in every commotion, timid and downcast in spirit, and at the same time fearing the example of Valerian, did not dare to march against him, but sent this man through Armenia, while he himself remained in the East, watching for the outcome of events.

He, employing an ambush, easily overwhelmed the barbarians—whose custom it is to go to war with all their people—impeded as they were by their multitude and burdened with their baggage; and having put King Narseus to flight, he returned with plunder and immense spoils, bringing himself arrogance and Diocletian fear. For after this victory he was lifted up into such great pride that he now scorned the name of Caesar. And when he had heard this in a letter sent to him, he would cry out with a savage countenance and a terrible voice, "How long Caesar?" Thereafter he began to act most insolently, wishing to be both seen and called as begotten of Mars, like another Romulus, and he preferred to defame his mother Romula with the charge of adultery, that he himself might seem to spring from the gods.

But I defer speaking of his deeds, lest I confuse the chronology. For after he had received the name of emperor, his father-in-law being stripped of it, then at last he began to rage and to despise all things. Diocles—for so he was called before his reign—when he was overturning the state by such counsels and such associates, when for his crimes he deserved nothing good, nonetheless reigned for a very long time in the greatest felicity, so long as he did not stain his hands with the blood of the righteous. But what cause he had for persecuting, I will set forth. When he was passing his time in the parts of the East, being, in keeping with his fearfulness, a searcher into things to come, he was sacrificing cattle and seeking the future in their livers.

Then indeed certain of his servants, who knew the Lord, while they stood by as he sacrificed, placed upon their foreheads the immortal sign; and when this was done, the demons being put to flight, the rites were thrown into confusion. The soothsayers trembled, nor did they see the accustomed marks in the entrails, and, as though they had not propitiated the gods, they sacrificed again and again. But the victims, slain repeatedly, showed nothing, until at last that master of the soothsayers, Tagis, whether by suspicion or by sight, declared that the rites did not respond for this reason: that profane men were present at the divine affairs.

Then, raging with anger, he commanded not only those who ministered at the rites, but all who were in the palace, to sacrifice; and he ordered that, if they refused, they should be chastised with scourges; and having sent letters to the commanders, he directed that the soldiers too be compelled to the abominable sacrifices, so that those who did not obey should be discharged from military service. Thus far his fury and his anger proceeded, nor did he do anything further against the law or the religion of God. Then, after some time had intervened, he came into Bithynia to winter, and thither at that time Maximian Caesar also came, inflamed with crime, to instigate the vain old man to persecute the Christians—he who had already made a beginning. The cause of this fury I have learned to have been the following.

His mother was a worshipper of the mountain gods, and being a most superstitious woman, she sacrificed with banquets almost daily and set out feasts for her fellow villagers. The Christians abstained, and while she feasted with the heathen, they devoted themselves to fastings and prayers. Hence she conceived a hatred against them, and by womanish complaints she incited her son, no less superstitious, to do away with these people. So, after they had held counsel between themselves throughout the whole winter, while no one was admitted and all supposed that matters of the highest concern to the state were being discussed, for a long while the old man resisted his fury, showing how pernicious it would be for the world to be disturbed and the blood of many to be shed; that those people were wont to die gladly.

It would be enough, he said, if he merely forbade the palace officials and the soldiers from that religion. Yet he could not turn aside the madness of the headlong man. It was resolved therefore to try the opinion of their friends. For such was his malice: when he had resolved to do something good, he did it without counsel, that he himself might be praised; but when something evil, since he knew it would be censured, he summoned many into council, that whatever he himself had done amiss might be ascribed to the fault of others. A few judges therefore were admitted, and a few of the military, and they were questioned in the order of their rank.

Some, out of their own hatred against the Christians, judged that the enemies of the gods and the foes of the public religions should be destroyed; and those who thought otherwise, having understood the man's will, whether out of fear or wishing to gratify him, agreed in the same opinion. Yet not even thus was the emperor bent to give his assent, but he resolved above all to consult the gods, and sent a soothsayer to the Milesian Apollo. He, as an enemy of the divine religion, answered accordingly. He was thus drawn away from his purpose, and since he could resist neither his friends nor Caesar nor Apollo, he attempted to maintain this moderation: that he ordered the matter to be carried out without bloodshed, whereas Caesar wished those who resisted the sacrifice to be burned alive.

A suitable and auspicious day for carrying out the matter is sought, and the Terminalia are chiefly chosen, which fall on the seventh day before the Kalends of March, so that, as it were, an end might be set to this religion. That day was the first of death and the first cause of the evils which befell both them and the whole world. When that day had dawned, both old men being in their eighth and seventh consulship, suddenly, while the light was still doubtful, the prefect came to the church with generals and tribunes and fiscal officers, and the doors having been torn off, the image of God is sought, the Scriptures that are found are burned, plunder is given to all, there is snatching, panic, and running to and fro.

But they themselves, in their watch-towers—for the church, being set on high, was visible from the palace—long contended between themselves whether fire ought rather to be set under it. The opinion of Diocletian prevailed, who took care lest, a great fire being made, some part of the city should be burned. For many and great houses surrounded it on every side. The praetorians therefore came in battle array with axes and other iron tools, and being sent in from every quarter, in a few hours they leveled that most lofty sanctuary to the ground.

On the next day an edict was published, by which it was provided that the men of that religion should be deprived of all honor and rank, should be subjected to tortures, from whatever order or grade they came; that every legal action should be valid against them, while they themselves could bring no suit concerning injury, nor adultery, nor goods taken away; and that in short they should have neither liberty nor a voice. A certain man, though not rightly, yet with great spirit, tore down and rent that edict, saying with mockery that the victories of the Goths and Sarmatians had been set forth. And being at once led off, he was not only racked, but even, as it were lawfully, roasted, and with admirable patience was at last burned to death. But Caesar was not content with the laws of the edict; he prepares to assail Diocletian in another way.

For in order to drive him to the design of a most cruel persecution, by secret agents he set fire to the palace; and when a certain part had burned down, the Christians were accused as public enemies, and amid immense odium the name of the Christians blazed together with the palace: that they, having held counsel with the eunuchs concerning the assassination of the princes, had plotted that two emperors should be burned nearly alive in their own house. But Diocletian, who always wished to seem shrewd and discerning, could suspect nothing, but inflamed with anger, he straightway ordered all his own people to be tortured. He himself sat and roasted innocent men with fire.

Likewise all the judges, and finally all the masters who were in the palace, having been given authority, applied torture. They were vying to see who should first discover something: nothing anywhere was found, since indeed no one tortured Caesar's household. He himself was present and pressed on, nor did he suffer the wrath of the inconsiderate old man to burn itself out. But after fifteen days had intervened, he contrived another fire, but it was more quickly detected, and yet no author appeared. Then Caesar, having prepared his departure in the middle of winter, burst forth on that same day, declaring that he was fleeing lest he be burned alive. The emperor therefore raged now not only against his household, but against all; and first of all he compelled his daughter Valeria and his wife Prisca to be defiled by sacrifice.

The eunuchs, once most powerful, through whom both the palace and he himself had formerly stood firm, were put to death; presbyters and ministers were seized, and condemned without any proof or confession, and led away together with all their households. People of every sex and age were dragged off to be burned, and not singly—since the multitude was so great—but in herds they were encircled with fire set round about; household servants were drowned in the sea with millstones tied to their necks. Nor did the persecution press any less violently upon the rest of the people. For the judges, dispersed through all the temples, compelled everyone to the sacrifices.

The prisons were full; unheard-of kinds of tortures were devised; and lest justice should be administered to anyone rashly, altars were set up in the council-chambers and before the tribunal, so that litigants should first sacrifice and so plead their cases—thus one approached the judges as though approaching the gods. Letters too had gone to Maximian and Constantius, that they should do the same, whose opinion in such great matters had not been awaited. And indeed old Maximian willingly obeyed throughout Italy, a man not very merciful. For Constantius, lest he should seem to dissent from the precepts of his elders, allowed the meeting-houses—that is, the walls, which could be restored—to be torn down, but kept unharmed the true temple of God, which is in men.

The whole earth therefore was harassed, and except for the Gauls, from the East even to the West three most savage beasts raged. Not, had I a hundred tongues and a hundred mouths and a voice of iron, could I comprehend all the forms of their crimes, nor run through all the names of their punishments, which the judges throughout the provinces inflicted upon the righteous and the innocent. But what need is there to narrate those things especially to you, dearest Donatus, who beyond all others have experienced the storm of that turbulent persecution?

For when you had fallen into the hands of Flaccinus the prefect, no small murderer, then into those of Hierocles, a governor risen from a deputyship, who was the author and counselor in carrying out the persecution, and finally into those of Priscillianus his successor, you furnished to all a proof of invincible fortitude. For nine times subjected to tortures and various torments, nine times did you vanquish the adversary by a glorious confession; in nine battles you overcame the devil with his satellites; with nine victories you triumphed over the world with its terrors. How delightful was that spectacle to God, when He beheld you as victor subjugating to your chariot not white horses or huge elephants, but the very triumphers themselves!

This is the true triumph, when the dominators are dominated. For they were conquered and subjugated by your virtue, since, despising their abominable command, you overthrew all the apparatus and terrors of tyrannical power by steadfast faith and strength of soul. Nothing against you availed—not the lashes, not the iron claws, not the fire, not the sword, not the various kinds of tortures: no force could take from you your faith and your devotion. This is to be a disciple of God; this is to be a soldier of Christ, whom no enemy may conquer, whom no wolf may snatch from the heavenly camp, whom no snare may ensnare, whom no pain may overcome, whom no torment may crush.

Finally, after those nine most glorious battles, in which the devil was conquered by you, he did not dare to contend with you further, having found by so many combats that you could not be overcome. And when a victorious crown had been prepared for you, he ceased to provoke you any more, lest you should now seize it; which, though you have not received it in the present, is yet kept whole and reserved for you, for your virtues and merits, in the kingdom of the Lord. But let us return to the order of events. This crime therefore having been perpetrated, Diocletian, when felicity had now departed from him, proceeded at once to Rome to celebrate the day of his twentieth anniversary, which was to fall on the twelfth day before the Kalends of December.

When these solemnities had been celebrated, since he could not endure the freedom of the Roman people, impatient and sick at heart he rushed out of the city as the Kalends of January were approaching, on which his ninth consulship was being conferred upon him. He could not endure thirteen days, that he might enter upon his consulship at Rome rather than at Ravenna, but setting out while winter raged, lashed by cold and rains, he contracted an illness slight indeed but lasting, and being afflicted throughout the whole journey, he was for the most part carried in a litter. Thus, when summer had passed, he came by way of the bank of the Ister to Nicomedia, his illness now growing grievous; and when he perceived himself oppressed by it, he was nevertheless brought forth, that he might dedicate the circus he had built, the year after his twentieth anniversary being completed.

Then he was so oppressed by his languor that prayers were made to all the gods for his life, until on the Ides of December there was suddenly mourning in the palace, sorrow and tears of the judges, trepidation and silence throughout the whole city. Now they said he was not only dead but even buried, when suddenly, on the following morning, a rumor spread that he was living, and the faces of the household and the judges were changed with cheerfulness. There were those who suspected that his death was being concealed until Caesar should come, lest perhaps something should be stirred up by the soldiers. This suspicion prevailed so far that no one believed him to be living, until on the Kalends of March he came forth, scarcely to be recognized, since for nearly a whole year he had wasted away with illness.

And he, lulled into death on the Ides of December, had recovered his soul, yet not the whole of it. For he became demented, so that at certain hours he raved, at certain hours he came to his senses. And not many days after, Caesar arrived, not to congratulate his father, but to compel him to yield up the empire. He had already lately clashed with old Maximian and had terrified him by inspiring in him the fear of civil arms. He approached Diocletian therefore at first gently and in a friendly way, saying that he was now old, now less vigorous and unfit for administering the state; that he ought to rest after his labors. At the same time he brought forward the example of Nerva, who had handed over the empire to Trajan.

But he answered that it would be both unseemly, if after such great brilliance of lofty eminence he should sink down into the shadows of a lowly life, and less safe, because in so long a reign he had earned for himself the hatred of many; that Nerva, however, ruling for one year, when he could bear neither the weight nor the care of such great affairs, whether by reason of age or of unfamiliarity, had cast aside the helm of the state and returned to a private life, in which he had grown old. But if he desired to obtain the name of emperor, there was no impediment to prevent all from being styled Augusti.

But the other, who had already in hope invaded the whole world, since he saw that either nothing beyond a name, or not much, was accruing to him, answered that the arrangement of Diocletian himself ought to be preserved in perpetuity, namely that there should be two greater rulers in the state, who held the sum of affairs, and likewise two lesser, who should be a help; that between two concord could easily be preserved, but between four equals by no means. If he himself had been unwilling to yield, he would take counsel for his own interest, that he might no longer be the lesser and the lowest. Now fifteen years had passed in which he had been relegated to Illyricum—that is, to the bank of the Danube—wrestling with barbarous nations, while others ruled in luxury within more spacious and more peaceful lands.

Hearing these things, the feeble old man—who had now also received a letter from old Maximian, writing whatever the other had said, and had learned that the army was being increased by him—weeping, said, "Let it be so, if this is your pleasure." It remained that, by the common counsel of all, Caesars should be chosen. "What need is there of counsel, when it is necessary that those two be pleased with whatever we shall have done?"—"Just so, plainly. For it is necessary that their sons be named." Now Maximian had a son, Maxentius, the son-in-law of this very Maximian, a man of a pernicious and evil mind, so proud and insolent that he was wont to do reverence neither to his father nor to his father-in-law, and for that reason was hateful to both.

Constantius too had a son, Constantine, a most virtuous young man and most worthy of that high rank, who by his distinguished and graceful bodily bearing, his soldierly diligence, his upright character, and his singular courtesy was beloved by the soldiers and longed for by private citizens. He was at that time present, having long since been made by Diocletian a tribune of the first order. "What then is to be done?"--"That man," said Galerius, "is not worthy. For he who as a private man despised me, what will he do once he has received the imperial power?"--"But this one is both lovable and so disposed to rule that he will be judged better and more merciful than his own father."--"In that case it will turn out that I cannot do what I wish.

It is fitting therefore that those be appointed who are in my power, who will fear me, who will do nothing except at my command."--"Whom then shall we make?"--"Severus," he said.--"That dancer, drunken and given to wine, for whom night is as day and day as night?"--"He is worthy," he said, "because he has faithfully commanded the soldiers; and I have sent to Maximian, that he may be invested by him."--"So be it. Whom will you give as the other?"--"This man," he said, pointing to Daia, a certain half-barbarian youth, whom he had recently ordered to be called Maximinus, after his own name.

For Diocletian himself had partly changed his name for the sake of an omen, because Maximian rendered fidelity with the utmost devotion.--"Who is this man whom you offer me?"--"My kinsman," he said.--But the other, groaning, said: "You give me men unfit, to whom the safeguarding of the commonwealth can be entrusted."--"I have approved them," he said.--"You shall see to it, you who are to assume the governance of the empire. I have labored and provided enough so that, while I rule, the commonwealth might stand secure. If any adversity should come, it will not be my fault." When these things had been settled, the proceedings took place on the Kalends of May. All gazed upon Constantine; there was no doubt;

the soldiers who were present, and the chief officers chosen and summoned from the legions, intent upon this one man, rejoiced, wished for him, and made their prayers. There was a high place outside the city, about three miles off, on whose summit Maximian himself had assumed the purple, and there a column had been erected with the image of Jupiter. Thither they proceeded. An assembly of the soldiers was convened. The old man began, with tears, to address the soldiers: that he was infirm, that he sought rest after his labors, that he was handing over the empire to stronger men, and substituting others as Caesars. The expectation of all was at its height, as to what he would bring forth. Then suddenly he proclaimed Severus and Maximinus as Caesars; all were astounded. On the tribunal Constantine stood above;

and they hesitated among themselves whether Constantine's name had been altered, when, in the sight of all, Maximian, stretching back his hand, drew forth from behind Daia, thrusting Constantine aside, and having stripped him of his private dress, set him in the midst. All marveled who he was and whence he came. Yet no one dared to cry out in protest, all being thrown into confusion by the strangeness of the thing none had expected. Upon him Diocletian cast his own purple, with which he divested himself, and he became Diocles again. Then they descended, and the veteran ruler was carried out through the city in a carriage and dismissed to his homeland.

But Daia, lately raised from the flocks and the woods, at once a shield-bearer, immediately a protector, soon a tribune, the next day a Caesar, received the East to trample and grind down--he who knew neither soldiering nor statecraft, now no longer a herdsman of cattle, but of soldiers. After Maximian had accomplished what he wished, having driven out the old men, he gave himself out as now the sole master of the whole world; for although Constantius had necessarily to be named first, he despised him, because he was mild by nature and hindered by poor bodily health. He hoped that this man would shortly die, and if he did not die, it seemed easy to strip him of power even against his will. For what could he do, if he were compelled by three to lay down his rule?

He had with him Licinius, a friend of his old comradeship and intimate from his earliest military service, by whose counsels he made use for governing all things; yet he was unwilling to make him a Caesar, lest he should call him a son, his plan being rather afterwards to name him Augustus and brother in Constantius's place; and that then he himself should hold the supremacy and, raving at his pleasure over the whole earth, celebrate his vicennalia, and, with his own son set up as Caesar--he was then nine years old--he himself too should lay down power; so that, while Licinius and Severus held the chief of the empire, and Maximinus and Candidianus held the second rank of the Caesars, he, fenced about by an impregnable wall, might pass a secure and tranquil old age. Toward this his designs tended.

But God, whom he made his enemy, dissolved all his plans. Having therefore attained the greatest power, he set his mind to vexing the world which he had opened up to himself. For after the Persians had been conquered--whose rite and custom it is that they devote themselves to the service of their kings, and the kings use their people as a household--this wicked man wished to introduce this custom into the Roman land; and from the time of that victory he praised it without shame. And because he could not openly command it, he so acted as himself also to take away liberty from men. First of all he took away honors. Not only the decurions but even the chief men of the cities, men outstanding and most accomplished, were tortured by him, and that indeed in trifling and civil suits.

If they seemed worthy of death, crosses stood ready; if not, fetters were prepared. Idle and noble matrons were dragged off to the women's workhouse; if anyone was to be flogged, four stakes were fixed in a stable, to which no slave was ever wont to be stretched. Why should I tell of his sport and his amusements? He kept bears very like his own ferocity and bulk, which he had selected throughout the whole time of his rule; whenever it pleased him to be entertained, he would order one of them to be brought by name. To these he threw men not exactly to be eaten, but to be gulped down; and when their limbs were torn apart, he laughed most delightedly, and never dined without human gore. For those without rank the penalty was fire.

This means of destruction he had first permitted against the Christians, laws having been issued that, after torture, the condemned should be burned with slow fires. When they had been handed over, a gentle flame was first applied to their feet, so long until the contracted hard skin of the soles was torn away from the bones by the fire. Then torches, lit and then put out, were brought to each of their limbs, so that no place in the body should be left untouched; and meanwhile the face was sprinkled with cold water and the mouth was washed with moisture, lest, with the throat parched by dryness, the breath should be given up too quickly. This at last would happen when, through a long day, with all the skin consumed, the force of the fire had penetrated to the inmost organs. Then a pyre being built, bodies already burned were burned again.

The bones, gathered and ground into dust, were cast into rivers and the sea. What therefore he had learned in torturing the Christians, by that very habit he practiced upon all. With him no penalty was light--not islands, not prisons, not the mines--but fire, the cross, and wild beasts were in his eyes everyday and easy things. Domestics and officials were corrected with the spear. In a capital case the punishment of the sword was granted, as if a favor, to very few, who by reason of past merits had obtained a good death. Now even those things had been light by comparison: eloquence extinguished, advocates done away with, jurists either banished or put to death.

Letters indeed were reckoned among the evil arts, and those who knew them were crushed and execrated as foes and enemies. License in all matters was assumed, the laws being loosed, and granted to the judges. Military judges, untrained in the humanity of letters, were sent into the provinces without assessors. But that other thing was a public calamity and the common mourning of all--the census once dispatched into the provinces and cities. With census-takers spread everywhere and harassing all things, there was the appearance of a hostile tumult and of dreadful captivity. The fields were measured clod by clod, vines and trees were counted, animals of every kind were registered, the heads of men were recorded;

in the cities the urban and rural populace were gathered together, all the marketplaces were crammed with throngs of families; everyone was present with his children and his slaves; tortures and floggings resounded; sons were hung up against their parents, the most faithful slaves were racked against their masters, wives against their husbands. If all else failed, men were tortured against themselves, and when pain had prevailed, things they did not possess were registered against them. There was no excuse of age or of infirmity; the sick and the disabled were brought in, the ages of individuals were assessed, years were added to little children, taken away from old men. All places were full of grief and sorrow.

What the ancients had done by the law of war against the conquered, this man dared to do against the Romans and those subject to the Romans, because his own ancestors had been subjected to the census which Trajan, as victor, imposed upon the constantly rebelling Dacians as a penalty. After this, monies were paid in lieu of heads, and a price was given for life. Yet not even these same registrars were trusted, but others were sent over others, as though they would discover more; and as the sum was always doubled--not because they found more, but because they added as they pleased, lest they should seem to have been sent in vain. Meanwhile the animals diminished and mortals died, and none the less the tributes were paid for the dead, so that now it was permitted neither to live nor even to die free of charge.

Only the beggars remained, from whom nothing could be exacted, whom their misery and wretchedness had made safe from every kind of injury. And this pious fellow had pity on them, that they might not be in want. He ordered them all to be gathered together and, carried off in small boats, drowned in the sea. So merciful a man, who took care that no one should be wretched under his rule! Thus, while he guards lest anyone, under pretense of beggary, should escape the census, he slew a multitude of the truly wretched against all law of humanity. Now the judgment of God drew near to him, and the time followed in which his affairs began to slip and flow away. He had not yet turned his mind to overthrowing or expelling Constantius, while he was occupied with these matters which I have set forth above;

and he awaited his death, but yet did not think he would die soon. When Constantius was gravely ill, he had sent letters that he should send back to him his son Constantine to be seen by him, whom he had long since vainly demanded back. But the other wished nothing less. For he had often assailed the youth with ambushes, since he dared nothing openly, lest he should stir up civil arms against himself and--what he most feared--the hatred of the soldiers; and under the pretext of exercise and sport he had thrown him to wild beasts; but in vain, because the hand of God protected the man, who delivered him from his hands at the very crisis.

For when, being asked again and again, he could no longer refuse for long, he gave him the seal as the day was already declining, and ordered him to set out the next morning, having received his instructions--intending either himself to detain him by some pretext, or to send letters ahead, so that Constantine might be held by Severus. But Constantine, foreseeing this, while the emperor was now resting after dinner, hastened to depart, and having carried off all the post-horses at many stations, flew away. The next day the emperor, having deliberately slept until midday, ordered him to be summoned. He was told that he had set out immediately after dinner. He began to be indignant and to rage. He demanded the post-horses, to have him brought back. He was informed that the public courier-service had been stripped bare before him. He could scarcely hold back his tears.

But Constantine, using incredible speed, reached his father, who was now failing; and the father, having commended him to the soldiers, handed over the empire to him by his own hand. And so on his own bed he received the rest of life, as he had wished. Having taken up the empire, Constantine Augustus did nothing before restoring the Christians to their worship and to their God. This was his first ordinance--the restoration of holy religion. A few days later his laurelled portrait was brought to the wicked beast. He deliberated a long while whether he should accept it.

It nearly came to this, that he would have burned both the portrait and the very man who had brought it, had not his friends turned him from that fury, reminding him of the danger--that all the soldiers, against whose will the unknown Caesars had been made, would have taken up Constantine and would have flocked to him with the utmost eagerness, if he had come in arms. And so he accepted the portrait very much against his will, and sent him the purple, so that he might seem to have admitted him into the partnership of his own accord. Now his calculations had been thrown into confusion, and he could not name another beyond the number, as he had wished.

But he devised this: that he should name Severus, who was older in age, as Augustus, but order that Constantine be called not emperor, as he had been made, but Caesar together with Maximinus, so as to throw him back from the second place into the fourth. His affairs now seemed in some way settled, when suddenly another terror was brought to him--that his own son-in-law Maxentius had been made emperor at Rome. The cause of this movement was as follows. When he had resolved, by instituting the census, to devour the whole world, he leaped forward to such madness that he wished not even the Roman people to be made immune from this captivity. Census-takers were already being appointed who, sent to Rome, should register the commons. About the same time he had also abolished the praetorian camp.

And so the few soldiers who had been left in the camp at Rome, seizing the opportunity, killed certain of the judges--the people not unwilling, for they were stirred up--and clothed Maxentius in the purple. When this news was brought, he was somewhat disturbed by the novelty of the thing, yet not too greatly terrified. He both hated the man and could not make three Caesars. It seemed enough to have done once what he did not wish. He summoned Severus, urged him to recover the empire. He sent him with Maximian's army to attack Maxentius, and sent him to Rome--in which those soldiers, very often most luxuriously entertained, would wish not only that city to be safe, but to live there.

Maxentius, conscious to himself of so great a crime, although by right of inheritance he could bring over his father's soldiers to his side, yet reflecting that it might happen that his father-in-law Maximian, fearing this very thing, would leave Severus in Illyricum and himself come with his own army to attack him, sought how he might fortify himself against the impending danger. To his father, lingering in Campania after he had laid down power, he sent the purple and named him Augustus a second time. And he, both eager for revolution and having laid down power unwillingly, gladly seized it. Severus meanwhile advanced and came armed to the walls of the city. At once the soldiers, raising their standards, departed and handed themselves over to the very man against whom they had come. What remained for the abandoned man but flight?

But Maximian, his power now resumed, was coming to meet him; at whose approach Severus fled to Ravenna and there shut himself up with a few soldiers. When he saw that it would come to pass that he would be handed over to Maximian, he surrendered himself and gave back the purple robe to the very man from whom he had received it. By doing this he obtained nothing else but a good death. For with his veins cut, he was forced to die gently.

But Herculius (Maximian), knowing the madness of Maximian (Galerius), began to consider that he, inflamed with anger at hearing of Severus's death and taking up the feud, would come with his army--and perhaps with Maximinus joined to him and his forces doubled, against which there could be no resistance in any way. So, having fortified the city and carefully provided all things, he set out for Gaul, in order to win Constantine over to his side by the marriage of his younger daughter. Galerius meanwhile, having assembled his army, invaded Italy and approached the city to wipe out the senate and slaughter the people; but he found everything closed and fortified. There was no hope of breaking in, the siege was difficult, and there were not enough troops to invest the walls;

for indeed he had never seen Rome, and supposed it to be not much larger than the cities he knew. Then certain legions, detesting the crime--that a father-in-law was attacking his son-in-law, and that Roman soldiers were attacking Rome--shifted their standards and abandoned his cause. And now the rest of the soldiers were wavering, when he, his pride broken and his spirits cast down, fearing the fate of Severus, threw himself at the feet of the soldiers and begged that he not be handed over to the enemy, until by enormous promises he bent their minds and turned his standards back and, trembling, took to flight--in which he could most easily have been crushed, if anyone had pursued him even with a few men.

Fearing this, he gave the soldiers leave to scatter as widely as possible and plunder or destroy everything, so that, if anyone wished to pursue, he might have no provisions. Therefore that part of Italy through which that pestilential column passed was laid waste, everything was pillaged, women were defiled, virgins were violated, parents and husbands were tortured to make them betray their daughters, their wives, their wealth. Plunder of cattle and beasts of burden was driven off as though from barbarians. In this way he withdrew to his own seat, when one who had once been a Roman emperor, now a ravager of Italy, had ravaged all things in hostile fashion.

Once, indeed, as soon as he had received the name of emperor, he had declared himself an enemy of the Roman name, whose title he wished to be changed, so that it should be called not the Roman empire but the Dacian. After this man's flight, when the other Maximian had withdrawn from Gaul, he held the empire in common with his son. But the young man was obeyed more than the old, since the power of the son was both prior and greater--he who had even restored the empire to his father. The old man bore it with resentment that he could not freely do what he wished, and envied his own son with childish rivalry. He therefore planned to expel the youth, in order to claim his own for himself: which seemed easy, because he had the soldiers who had deserted Severus.

He summoned the people and the soldiers, as though about to hold an assembly concerning the present evils of the commonwealth. When he had said much about these, he turned his hands toward his son and, declaring that he was the author of the evils, the chief cause of the calamities which the commonwealth was enduring, he tore the purple from his shoulders. Stripped, the son threw himself headlong down from the tribunal and was received by the soldiers. By their anger and shouting the impious old man was thrown into confusion and was driven out from the city of Rome, like a second Superbus.

Returning again into Gaul, where he lingered some time, he set out to his son's enemy Maximian (Galerius), as though to confer with him about settling the condition of the commonwealth, but in truth in order to kill him under the pretext of reconciliation and to hold his kingdom, being shut out from his own. Wherever he came, there was present Diocles, lately summoned out of retirement, so that what he had not done before, in his presence he might give the empire to Licinius, substituted in Severus's place. And so it was done, both being present. Thus at one time there were six. By this matter, his counsels being thwarted, the old man Maximian planned yet a third flight:

He returned into Gaul, full of evil thought and crime, to circumvent by wicked deceit Constantine the emperor, his son-in-law, his daughter's husband, and that he might be able to deceive, he laid aside the royal robe. The nation of the Franks was in arms. He persuaded Constantine, who suspected nothing, not to lead his whole army with him: the barbarians could be subdued with a few soldiers, so that he himself might have an army to seize, and the other could be overcome because of the scarcity of his soldiers. The young man believes him as an expert and an old man, obeys him as a father-in-law: he sets out, leaving behind the greater part of his soldiers. Maximian, having waited a few days, when he now reckoned that Constantine had entered the borders of the barbarians, suddenly assumed the purple, seized the treasures, gave gifts lavishly as was his custom;

he invented against Constantine charges which forthwith recoiled upon himself. The emperor is speedily informed of what was done. With admirable speed he flies back with his army. The man is overwhelmed by surprise, not yet sufficiently prepared, and the soldiers return to their own emperor. He had seized Massilia (Marseilles) and guarded its gates. The emperor draws nearer and addresses him as he stands on the wall, not harshly nor in hostile fashion, but asks what he had wanted, what had been lacking to him, why he was doing what least became him in particular. But the other heaped curses from the walls. Then suddenly the gates behind him are unbarred, the soldiers are admitted. The rebel emperor, the impious father, the perfidious father-in-law, is dragged to the emperor.

He hears the crimes he committed; his robe is stripped from him, and after being rebuked, his life is granted to him. Thus, having lost the honor of emperor and father-in-law, impatient of his humiliation, he again contrived other plots, because he had once gone unpunished. He calls his daughter Fausta and solicits her, now with prayers, now with flatteries, to the betrayal of her husband, promising her another more worthy man; he asks that the bedchamber be left open and allowed to be guarded more negligently. She promises she will do it and at once reports it to her husband. A scene is arranged by which the crime might be plainly caught. A certain worthless eunuch is substituted to die in place of the emperor. Maximian rises in the dead of night, sees everything favorable for ambush. The watchmen were few and those indeed at a distance;

yet he told them that he had seen a dream which he wished to tell to his son. He enters armed, and having slain the eunuch, leaps forth exulting and proclaims what he has done. Suddenly Constantine shows himself from the other side with a band of armed men. The corpse of the slain man is brought forth from the bedchamber; the manifest murderer is caught and, mute, stands stupefied, as though a hard flint or a Marpesian crag should stand. He is rebuked for his impiety and crime. At last the power of a free death is given to him, and he ties the knot of a shapeless death from a lofty beam.

Thus that man, the greatest emperor of the Roman name, who after a long interval of time celebrated with immense glory the vows of his twentieth year, with his most arrogant throat crushed and broken, ended his detestable life by a shameful and groaning death. From him God, the avenger of religion and of His own people, turned His eyes to the other Maximian (Galerius), the author of the unspeakable persecution, in order to show in him also now the might of His majesty. He too was already thinking of celebrating his vicennalia. And in order that he, who had long since afflicted the provinces with levies of gold and silver, might render what he had promised, he also, in the name of the vicennalia, inflicted yet another axe-blow.

By what vexation of the human race the exaction was carried out, especially in the matter of the grain-supply, who can worthily narrate? Soldiers, or rather executioners, of every department clung to individuals. Whom to satisfy first was uncertain; there was no pardon for those who could not pay. Manifold tortures had to be endured, unless what did not exist were produced at once. Fenced about by many guards, there was no chance of breathing, no rest at any time of the year, however slight. Frequent was the strife over these same men, whether between the judges themselves or the judges' soldiers. There was no threshing-floor without an exactor, no vintage without a guard, nothing left for the sustenance of the laborers.

Although these things are intolerable--that food sought by labor be snatched from men's mouths--yet they are in some way bearable, even by the hope of things to come. What of clothing of every kind? What of gold? What of silver? Is it not necessary that these be procured from the sale of crops? Whence then, O most demented tyrant, shall I furnish these, when you carry off all the crops, and violently snatch away everything that is born? Who therefore was not overthrown from his goods, so that the wealth which had been under his rule might be scraped together for a vow which he was not going to celebrate? Therefore, Licinius having been named emperor, Maximinus, angry, wished to be named neither Caesar nor in the third place. He therefore often sends envoys to him, begs him to obey, to preserve his arrangement;

to yield to age and to defer the honor to grey hairs. But he raises his horns more boldly and contends by the prescription of time: that he ought to be prior, who had first assumed the purple; he despised his prayers and commands. The beast grieves and bellows, that, although for this reason he had made him an ignoble Caesar--namely, that he should be obedient to him--he nevertheless, forgetful of so great a benefit, impiously resisted his will and prayers. Overcome by the other's obstinacy, he abolishes the name of the Caesars and calls himself and Licinius Augusti, and Maximinus and Constantine sons of the Augusti. Maximinus afterwards writes, as though announcing that, in the Campus Martius lately assembled, he had been proclaimed Augustus by the army. He (Galerius) received it sorrowing and grieving, and ordered all four to be named emperors.

Now the eighteenth year was passing, when God struck him with an incurable affliction. An evil ulcer is born to him in the lower part of his genitals and creeps more widely. The physicians cut and treat it. But when a scar had now formed, the wound is split open, and a burst vein lets blood flow even to the danger of death; yet with difficulty is the gore stanched. A new treatment from the beginning. At last it is brought to a scar. Again, by a slight movement of the body, it is wounded; more blood runs down than before. He himself turns pale and, his strength spent, grows thin; and then indeed the stream of gore is checked. The wound begins not to feel the medicine; the cancer invades each neighboring part, and the more it is cut around, the more widely it rages. The more it is treated, the more it grows. The masters gave up--

even Chiron the son of Phillyra and Melampus the son of Amythaon. Noble physicians are dragged in from everywhere; human hands accomplish nothing. Refuge is taken in idols: Apollo and Asclepius are entreated, a remedy is demanded. Apollo gives a cure; the evil is increased much worse. Now destruction was not far off and had seized all the lower parts. The bowels rot from without, and the whole seat dissolves into corruption. Yet the wretched physicians do not cease to foment and treat, even without hope of conquering the evil. The malady, beaten back from the marrow, recoils inward and lays hold of the inner parts; worms are bred within. The stench spreads not only through the palace but through the whole city. Nor is it any wonder, since by now the outlets of dung and urine had been confounded.

He is devoured by worms, and his body, with unbearable pains, dissolves into putrefaction. At the same time he raises horrendous cries to the stars, such as the bellowings when a wounded bull flees from the altar. To the flowing seat cooked and hot animals were applied, that the heat might draw out the little worms. When these were undone, an incalculable swarm teemed forth; and yet a far greater abundance the fertile destruction of his rotting bowels had generated. Now, by the diverse malady, the parts of his body had lost their shape. The upper part, up to the wound, had dried up, and the skin, livid with pitiable emaciation, had sunk far down between the bones; the lower part, without any form of feet, had swollen up like wineskins and become indistinguishable.

And these things happened over the course of a whole year, until at last, subdued by his sufferings, he was compelled to confess God. Amid the intervals of his fresh, pressing pain he cried out that he would restore the temple of God and would make full amends for his crime. And now, as he was failing, he issued an edict of this sort:

"Among the other measures which we always ordain for the advantage and benefit of the commonwealth, we had indeed formerly wished to set everything in order according to the ancient laws and public discipline of the Romans, and to provide that even the Christians, who had abandoned the sect of their forefathers, should return to a sound mind; 2 since by some reasoning so great a willfulness had seized those same Christians, and so great a folly had taken hold of them, that they did not follow those institutions of the ancients which perhaps their own forefathers had first established, but according to their own judgment and as it pleased them, they made for themselves the laws which they observed, and gathered together diverse peoples in various places.

3 Finally, when our command of this kind had been issued, that they should conform themselves to the institutions of the ancients, many were subjected to danger and many also were overthrown. 4 And since very many persisted in their resolve, and we saw that they neither rendered to the gods the worship and religious observance due to them nor honored the God of the Christians, in consideration of our most gentle clemency, and looking to our perpetual custom, by which we are accustomed to grant pardon to all men, we have believed that our most ready indulgence should be extended to these also: that they may once more be Christians and may reconstitute their meeting-places, provided that they do nothing contrary to public order. 5 By another letter, moreover, we shall make known to the judges what they ought to observe.

Wherefore, in accordance with this indulgence of ours, they will be bound to pray to their God for our welfare and for that of the commonwealth and their own, that on every side the commonwealth may be kept unharmed, and that they may be able to live secure in their own dwellings." This edict was published at Nicomedia on the day before the Kalends of May, in the eighth consulship of himself and the second of Maximinus. 2 Then, when the prisons were opened, dearest Donatus, you were set free from custody along with the other confessors, after the prison had served you as a dwelling for six years. 3 Yet not even by this deed did he obtain pardon for his crime from God; but after a few days, having commended his wife and son to Licinius and delivered them into his hands, while all the members of his body were already wasting away, he was consumed by a horrible putrefaction.

4 This became known at Nicomedia in the middle of that same month, when the celebration of his twentieth anniversary was to fall on the impending Kalends of March. On hearing this news, Maximinus, having arranged relays of couriers from the East, sped onward to seize the provinces, and, while Licinius delayed, to claim for himself everything as far as the Chalcedonian strait. Entering Bithynia, in order to win favor for himself for the present, he abolished the tax to the great joy of all. 2 There was discord between the two emperors, and almost war. They held the opposite banks under arms, but on fixed conditions peace and friendship were arranged, and on the very strait a treaty was made and right hands were joined. 3 He returned untroubled and became such as he had been in Syria and in Egypt.