On the Deaths of the Persecutors

In the last times of Tiberius Caesar, as we read in Scripture, our Lord Jesus Christ was crucified by the Jews, after the tenth day before the Kalends of April, in the consulship of the two Gemini; and when He had risen on the third day, He gathered together the disciples whom fear of His arrest had put to flight; and dwelling with them for forty days, He opened their hearts and interpreted the Scriptures, which until that time had been obscure and wrapped in mystery. And He ordained them and instructed them for the preaching of His doctrine and teaching, setting in order the solemn discipline of the New Testament. When this office was fulfilled, a whirlwind of cloud enveloped Him, and caught Him up from the eyes of men into heaven.

And from there the disciples, who were then eleven, having taken on Matthias and Paul in the place of Judas the traitor, were dispersed throughout all the earth to preach the Gospel, as the Lord their master had commanded them; and for five and twenty years, until the beginning of Nero's reign, they laid the foundations of the Church through all the provinces and cities. And when Nero was now reigning, Peter came to Rome; and having performed certain miracles, which he wrought by the power of God Himself, through the authority given to him by Him, he converted many to righteousness, and established for God a faithful and steadfast temple.

When this was reported to Nero, and he perceived that not only at Rome but everywhere daily a great multitude was turning away from the worship of idols and passing over to the new religion, condemning the old, he, being an execrable and harmful tyrant, leapt forth to destroy the heavenly temple and to blot out righteousness, and was the first of all to persecute the servants of God, nailing Peter to a cross and putting Paul to death. Yet he did not go unpunished; for God looked upon the affliction of His people. And so the powerless tyrant, cast down from the height of his power and hurled from the summit, suddenly disappeared, so that not even a place of burial in the earth appeared for so evil a beast.

Whence certain foolish persons believe that he was translated and kept alive, the Sibyl saying that the matricide fugitive would come from the ends of the earth; so that, because he was the first to persecute, he might also be the last to persecute, and might precede the coming of Antichrist. Therefore it is right to believe, just as two Prophets have been translated alive to the last times, and the holy and everlasting beginning of Christ, when He shall begin to descend, which the Sibyls foretell will come to pass: in the same manner they also think that Nero will come, to be the forerunner of the devil and the herald of him who comes to lay waste the earth and to overturn the human race.

After him, with some years intervening, another tyrant no less great arose, who, though he exercised an unjust dominion, yet lay upon the necks of his subjects for a very long time, and reigned in safety, until he stretched out his impious hands against the Lord. But after he was stirred up by the instigation of demons to persecute the righteous people, he was then delivered into the hands of his enemies and paid the penalty. Nor was it sufficient for vengeance that he was slain: even at home the memory of his name was erased. For though he had constructed many wonderful works, though he had built the Capitol and other noble monuments, the Senate so pursued his name that it left no traces of his images or inscriptions, and by most severe decrees branded even the dead man with a mark of everlasting ignominy.

The acts of the tyrant being thus annulled, the Church was not only restored to its former state, but also shone forth much more clearly and flourishingly; and in the times that followed, when many good princes held the helm and governance of the Roman empire, suffering no assaults from enemies, it stretched its hands to east and west; so that there was now no corner of the earth so remote that religion had not penetrated it; no nation, finally, living in manners so savage, that having received the worship of God it did not grow mild in works of righteousness. But thereafter the long peace was broken.

For after many years there arose that execrable beast Decius, to vex the Church. For who but an evil man would persecute righteousness? And as though he had been raised to that chief eminence for this very purpose, he began at once to rage against God, so that he might at once fall. For having set out against the Carpi, who had then occupied Dacia and Moesia, he was immediately surrounded by the barbarians and destroyed along with a great part of his army, and could not even be honored with burial; but stripped and naked, as befitted an enemy of God, he lay as food for wild beasts and birds.

Not long after, Valerian too, seized with a like madness, stretched out his impious hands against God, and shed much righteous blood, though for a brief time. But God afflicted him with a new and singular kind of punishment, so that he might be an example to posterity that the adversaries of God always receive a reward worthy of their crime. He was taken captive by the Persians, and lost not only the empire which he had used so insolently, but also the liberty which he had taken from others, and lived most shamefully in slavery. For Sapor, the king of the Persians, who had captured him, whenever it pleased him to mount a vehicle or a horse, would order the Roman to bow down and offer his back, and placing his foot upon his back, would say that this was the true form of triumph, reproaching him with laughter, not such as the Romans painted on tablets or walls.

Thus most worthily triumphed over, he lived for some time, so that for a long time the name of Rome was a mockery and laughingstock to the barbarians. This also was added to his punishment, that though he had a son who was Emperor, he found no avenger of his captivity and extreme servitude, nor was he ever reclaimed at all. But after he had ended his shameful life in that disgrace, his skin was stripped off, and the hide, emptied of its flesh, was dyed red, so that it might be placed in the temple of the barbarian gods as a memorial of the most glorious triumph, and might always be displayed to our ambassadors, lest the Romans trust too much in their own strength, when they beheld the spoils of a captured emperor among their gods. Since, therefore, God has exacted such punishments from the sacrilegious, is it not wonderful that anyone dared afterwards not only to act, but even to think, against the majesty of the one God who rules and sustains all things?

Aurelian, who was by nature mad and rash, though he remembered the captivity of Valerian, yet forgetting his crime and punishment, provoked the wrath of God by cruel deeds. But he was not even permitted to complete what he had planned; rather he was cut off immediately at the very beginning of his madness. His bloody edicts had not yet reached the more distant provinces, and already he himself lay bloody on the ground at Caenofrurium, a place in Thrace, slain by his own friends on some false suspicion. By such and so many examples the later tyrants ought to have been restrained. But they were not only not terrified, but acted against God even more boldly and confidently.

Diocletian, who was the deviser of crimes and contriver of evils, when he was laying waste everything, could not keep his hands even from God. He overturned the world at once with greed and with cowardice. For he made three partners in his rule, dividing the world into four parts, and with the armies multiplied, since each of them strove to have a far greater number of soldiers than the former princes had had when they governed the state alone, the number of those receiving had grown so much greater than those giving, that with the resources of the farmers exhausted by the enormity of the levies, fields were abandoned and cultivated land turned to forest.

And that all things might be filled with terror, the provinces too were cut into fragments, many governors and more officials pressing upon individual regions and almost upon individual cities, likewise many accountants and masters and deputies of prefects, for all of whom civil proceedings were exceedingly rare, but condemnations and proscriptions frequent, requisitions of innumerable things not frequent, I will not say, but perpetual, and in the requisitions injuries not to be endured. Nor can those things be tolerated either which pertain to the furnishing of soldiers. The same man, with insatiable greed, wished his treasuries never to be diminished: but he was always heaping up extraordinary wealth and largesses, so that he might keep what he stored away intact and inviolate. The same man, when by various iniquities he had caused an immense rise in prices, attempted to fix by law the prices of goods for sale.

Then much blood was shed over small and cheap things, nothing appeared for sale out of fear, and the rise in prices blazed up much more severely, until the law was dissolved by sheer necessity after the ruin of many. To this was added a certain boundless passion for building, no less an exaction upon the provinces in furnishing workmen and craftsmen and all wagons and whatever is necessary for the construction of works. Here a basilica, here a circus, here a mint, here an armory, here a house for his wife, here one for his daughter. Suddenly a great part of the city is evacuated. Everyone was moving away with their wives and children, as though the city had been taken by enemies. And when these things had been completed with the destruction of the provinces, he would say: They have not been made rightly; let them be made in another way. Again it was necessary to tear down and alter, perhaps to fall again.

So he was always raving, striving to make Nicomedia equal to the city of Rome. I pass over now how many perished on account of their possessions or wealth. For this was customary and almost permitted by the habit of evil men. But in this there was something especially notable, that wherever he had seen a more cultivated field or a more ornately built house, a false accusation and capital punishment were already prepared for the owner, as though he could not seize another's property without bloodshed.

What of his brother Maximian, who was called Herculius? He was not unlike him. For they could not have clung together in so faithful a friendship, unless there had been in both one mind, the same thought, equal will, like judgment. In this alone they differed, that greed was less in one and more in the other; but more timidity in the one, and more spirit in the other, not for doing good, but for doing evil. For since he held Italy itself as the seat of empire, and the most wealthy provinces, whether Africa or Spain, lay subject to him, he was not so diligent in guarding wealth, of which he had an abundance. And when there was need, there was no lack of very wealthy Senators who, with suborned informers, were said to have aimed at empire, so that the lights of the Senate were continually being put out. The most bloodthirsty treasury overflowed with ill-gotten wealth.

Already the lust in that pestilential man was directed not only to the corruption of morals, which is odious and detestable, but even to the violation of the daughters of the foremost men. For wherever he had made a journey, virgins torn from the sight of their parents were immediately at hand. By these things he judged himself blessed; by these he thought the happiness of his empire was sustained, if he denied nothing to lust and evil desire. I pass over Constantius, since he was unlike the rest, and worthy to have held the world alone.

But the other Maximian, whom Diocletian had taken as his son-in-law, was worse in his evils not only than these two whom our own times have experienced, but than all who have ever existed. There was in this beast a natural barbarity and ferocity alien to Roman blood. No wonder, since his mother, a woman from beyond the Danube, had fled across the river into New Dacia when the Carpi were making raids. His body too was in keeping with his character: tall of stature, with enormous flesh, swollen and puffed out to a dreadful size. In short, both in words and in deeds and in appearance he was a terror and a dread to all. His father-in-law also feared him most keenly. The cause of this fear was as follows: Narseus, king of the Persians, stirred by the domestic examples of his grandfather Sapor, was eagerly pressing forward with great forces to seize the East.

Then Diocletian, being as he was fearful in every tumult and broken in spirit, and at the same time fearing the example of Valerian, did not dare to march against him; but sent him through Armenia, while he himself remained in the East and watched the outcome of events. The other, by his own stratagems, overwhelmed without great difficulty the barbarians—who are accustomed to go to war with all their households—encumbered as they were by their multitude and burdened with baggage; and having put to flight king Narses, he returned with enormous spoils and plunder, bringing upon himself arrogance, and upon Diocletian fear. For after this victory he was lifted up into such great pride that he now disdained the name of Caesar. When he heard this in letters sent to him, Diocletian cried out with fierce countenance and terrible voice: How long a caesar?

From that time he began to conduct himself most insolently, wishing both to be seen and to be called the son of Mars, as a second Romulus; and he preferred to dishonor his mother Romula with the charge of adultery, so that he himself might appear to be sprung from the gods. But I defer speaking of his deeds, lest I confound the order of times. For after he received the name of Emperor, having cast off his father-in-law, only then did he begin to rage and to despise all things. For before his reign he was called Diocles: while he was overturning the commonwealth with such counsels and such associates, while he deserved nothing less than everything for his crimes, he nevertheless reigned with the highest good fortune for as long as he did not stain his hands with the blood of the just. What cause he had for persecution, I shall now set forth.

While he was residing in the regions of the East, being as he was one who out of fear scrutinized future events, he was sacrificing cattle and seeking in their livers what was to come. Then certain of his attendants who knew the Lord, as they stood by while he was sacrificing, placed upon their foreheads the immortal sign. When this was done, the demons were put to flight and the sacred rites were disturbed. The haruspices trembled, and they did not see the accustomed marks in the entrails; and as though they had not obtained favorable omens, they sacrificed again and again. But the victims slain repeatedly showed nothing, until that master of the haruspices, Tagis, either by suspicion or by observation, said that the sacred rites gave no response because profane men were present at the divine ceremonies.

Then, inflamed with the fury of anger, he ordered not only those who were ministering at the sacrifices to sacrifice, but all who were in the palace, and that those who refused should be punished with stripes; and having sent letters to the commanders, he also ordered the soldiers to be compelled to the abominable sacrifices, so that those who did not obey should be discharged from military service. Thus far his fury and anger proceeded, and he did nothing further against the law or the religion of God. Then, after some time had passed, he came to Bithynia to winter there; and at that same time Maximian the Caesar also arrived, inflamed with the same wickedness, to incite the vain old man—who had already made a beginning—to persecute the Christians. I have learned that this was the cause of his fury.

His mother was a worshipper of the mountain gods, a woman exceedingly superstitious. Being such, she sacrificed almost daily at feasts and offered banquets to her neighbors. The Christians abstained; and while she feasted with the Gentiles, these men persisted in fasts and prayers. From this she conceived hatred against them, and incited her son, who was no less superstitious, with womanly complaints to destroy these people. Therefore, having taken counsel together throughout the whole winter, with no one admitted and everyone supposing that the highest affairs of state were being discussed, the old man for a long time resisted his fury, showing how ruinous it would be to disturb the whole world and to shed the blood of many; that those men were accustomed to die willingly; that it was enough if only the palace servants and soldiers were forbidden that religion. Yet he could not turn aside the madness of that headlong man. It was decided therefore to seek the opinion of friends.

For it was his habit, when he had resolved to do something good, to do it without counsel, so that he himself might receive the praise. But when it was something evil, since he knew it would be censured, he summoned many into council, so that whatever he himself had done wrong might be ascribed to the fault of others. A few judges therefore were admitted, and a few military men, as they ranked in dignity, and were questioned. Some, out of their own hatred toward the Christians, voted that those who were enemies of the gods and foes of the public religion should be destroyed; and those who thought otherwise, having perceived the man's will, whether from fear or from a desire to please, agreed with the same opinion. Not even so was the Emperor moved to give his assent; but he resolved above all to consult the gods, and sent a haruspex to Apollo at Miletus. He responded as an enemy of the divine religion. The Emperor was thus drawn away from his purpose.

And since he could not resist his friends, nor the Caesar, nor Apollo, he endeavored to maintain this moderation: that he ordered the matter to be carried out without bloodshed, whereas the Caesar wished those who refused sacrifice to be burned alive.

A day suitable and auspicious for carrying out the matter was sought, and the Terminalia were chosen above all, which fall on the seventh day before the Kalends of March, so that, as it were, a terminus might be set to this religion.

That day was the first of death, and the first cause
of evils,

These evils befell both them and the whole world. When that day dawned, while both old men were serving their eighth and seventh consulships, suddenly, while the light was still uncertain, the Prefect came to the Church with commanders, tribunes, and treasury officers; and the doors having been forced open, the image of God was sought. The Scriptures that were found were burned; plunder was given to all. There was seizing, trembling, running to and fro. Those two themselves, from their watchtowers—for the Church, being situated on high ground, could be seen from the palace—were disputing with each other for a long time as to whether fire ought rather to be set beneath it. The opinion of Diocletian prevailed, as he feared that if a great fire were started, some part of the city might burn. For many large houses surrounded it on every side. The Praetorians therefore came in battle formation, with axes and other iron tools; and being sent in from all sides, they leveled that very lofty temple to the ground within a few hours.

On the following day an edict was posted, by which it was provided that men of that religion should be deprived of all honor and dignity, be subjected to torments from whatever rank or grade they came, that every legal action against them should be valid; that they themselves could not bring action for injury, for adultery, or for stolen property; and finally that they should have neither freedom nor voice. A certain man, though not rightly, yet with great spirit, tore down and shredded this edict, mocking it by saying that victories over the Goths and Sarmatians had been posted. He was immediately brought forth, and not merely racked but also legally roasted, and was at last burned with admirable patience.

But the Caesar was not satisfied with the provisions of the edict. He prepared to attack Diocletian by another means. For in order to drive him toward the purpose of a most cruel persecution, he set fire to the palace by means of secret agents. And when part of it had burned, the Christians were accused as public enemies, and together with the palace the name of the Christians was burning amid great hatred: that they, having taken counsel with the eunuchs, had plotted to destroy the Emperors, and that the two Emperors had nearly been burned alive in their own home. Diocletian indeed, who always wished to appear shrewd and discerning, could suspect nothing; but inflamed with anger, he immediately began to torture all his household. He himself sat and burned the innocent with fire. Likewise all the judges, and finally all the officers who were in the palace, were tortured with authority given for the purpose. They vied with one another as to who might first discover something.

Nothing was found anywhere; since no one tortured the Caesar's household. He himself was present and pressing on, and would not allow the anger of the rash old man to die down. But after fifteen days had passed, he contrived another fire. This was detected more quickly, yet no author appeared. Then the Caesar, having prepared his departure in the middle of winter, burst forth, declaring on that very day that he was fleeing lest he be burned alive.

The Emperor therefore raged now not only against his household but against all, and he compelled his own daughter Valeria and his wife Prisca to be defiled by sacrifice. The most powerful eunuchs, by whom the palace and the Emperor himself had previously been sustained, were put to death. Presbyters and ministers were seized and condemned without any proof or confession, and were led away with all their people. Men of every sex and age were dragged off to be burned; and since the multitude was so great, they were not burned singly but in groups, surrounded by fire and consumed. Household servants, with millstones tied about their necks, were drowned in the sea. Nor did the persecution press less violently upon the rest of the people. For judges were dispersed through all the temples and compelled everyone to sacrifice. The prisons were full.

Unheard-of kinds of torments were devised; and lest judgment be given to anyone rashly, altars were placed in the council chambers and before the tribunal, so that litigants should first sacrifice and then plead their cases; thus one approached the judges as though approaching gods. Letters also went to Maximian and Constantius, that they should do the same. Their opinion in matters of such importance had not been awaited. And indeed old Maximian willingly obeyed throughout Italy, being a man of no great clemency. For Constantius, lest he appear to dissent from the commands of his superiors, permitted the meeting-houses—that is, the walls, which could be rebuilt—to be torn down; but the true temple of God, which is in men, he kept unharmed.

The whole earth therefore was being afflicted, and except for the Gauls, three most savage beasts were raging from East to West.

Not if I had a hundred tongues and a hundred mouths,
A voice of iron, could I encompass all the forms of crimes,
Or run through all the names of punishments,

which the judges inflicted throughout the provinces upon the just and innocent. But what need is there to recount those things, especially to you, dearest Donatus, who beyond all others experienced the storm of the turbulent persecution? For when you fell into the hands of Flaccinus the prefect, no small murderer, then of Hierocles, who from Vicar became Governor, who was the author and counselor for carrying out the persecution, and finally of Priscillian his successor, you gave to all a proof of unconquered fortitude. For nine times subjected to torments and varied tortures, nine times you overcame your adversary with glorious confession. In nine battles you vanquished the devil with his satellites; in nine victories you triumphed over the age with all its terrors.

How joyful was that spectacle to God, when He beheld you as victor, yoking to your chariot not white horses or huge elephants, but those very triumphers themselves! This is the true triumph, when the dominators are dominated. For they were conquered by your virtue and brought into subjection; since, having despised the abominable command, you routed with steadfast faith and strength of mind all the apparatus and terrors of tyrannical power. Against you stripes availed nothing, claws nothing, fire nothing, iron nothing, the varied kinds of torments nothing. No force could take from you faith and devotion. This is to be a disciple of God; this is to be a soldier of Christ, whom no enemy may storm, whom no wolf may snatch from the heavenly camp, whom no snare may entrap, whom no pain may conquer, whom no torture may afflict. Finally, after those nine most glorious battles in which the devil was conquered by you, he did not dare to engage with you further, having learned by so many battles that you could not be overcome.

And when the victor's crown was prepared for you, he ceased to provoke you further, lest you should now receive it. Which, though you have not received it in the present, is nevertheless kept whole for you in the kingdom of the Lord in return for your virtues and merits. But let us return to the order of events.

After this crime had been perpetrated, Diocletian, his good fortune having now departed from him, proceeded straightway to Rome, to celebrate there the day of his vicennalia, which was to fall on the twelfth day before the Kalends of December. When those solemnities had been celebrated, since he could not endure the freedom of the Roman people, impatient and sick at heart, he burst forth from the city as the Kalends of January were approaching, on which his ninth consulship was to be conferred upon him. He could not endure thirteen days, so as to enter upon his consulship at Rome rather than at Ravenna. But having set out in winter, lashed by raging cold and rains, he contracted a slight but persistent illness; and being tormented throughout the whole journey, he was carried for the most part in a litter. Thus, after the summer had passed, he came by a circuitous route along the bank of the Istrian shore to Nicomedia, his illness now growing severe.

Whenever he was seen to be somewhat better, he was brought out in public so that he might dedicate the circus he had built, when the year after the vicennalia was completed; but then he was so overwhelmed by his illness that prayers were offered to all the gods for his life, until on the Ides of December there was suddenly mourning in the palace, grief and tears, trembling of the judges, and silence. The whole city was already saying that he was not only dead but even buried, when suddenly the next morning the report spread that he was alive, and the faces of the household servants and judges changed to cheerfulness. There were those who suspected that his death was being concealed until the Caesar should arrive, lest some disturbance be stirred up among the soldiers. This suspicion was so strong that no one believed him to be alive until he appeared on the Kalends of March, scarcely recognizable, since he had been wasting away with illness for nearly a whole year.

And he, having fallen into a stupor on the Ides of December, had recovered his breath, yet not fully. For he had become demented, so that at certain hours he raved and at certain hours came to his senses.

And not many days later the Caesar arrived, not to congratulate his father, but to compel him to yield the imperial power. He had recently clashed with the elder Maximianus and had terrified him by raising the fear of civil war. He therefore approached Diocletianus, at first gently and in a friendly manner, saying that he was now an old man, now less vigorous, and unfit for the administration of the state, and that he ought to rest after his labours. At the same time he also brought forward the example of Nerva, who had handed the empire over to Trajanus. But the other replied both that it would be unseemly if, after such glory at the height of so lofty a station, he were to fall into the obscurity of a humble life, and that it would be less safe, because in so long a reign he had acquired for himself the hatred of many.

Nerva, however, having reigned for one year, when he could bear the weight and burden of such great affairs neither by reason of age nor of inexperience, had cast aside the helm of the state and returned to private life, in which he had been accustomed to live. But if he desired to obtain the title of Emperor, there was nothing to prevent all of them from being called Augusti. But the other, who had already seized the whole world in hope, when he saw that either nothing beyond the name, or not much, would accrue to him, replied that his arrangement ought to be preserved in perpetuity, so that there should be two in the state of higher rank who hold the supreme power, and likewise two of lesser rank to serve as assistants: that harmony could easily be maintained between two, but in no way among four equals. If he himself were unwilling to yield, he would look to his own interests, so as no longer to be the lesser and the last.

Already fifteen years had flowed by, during which, banished to Illyricum, that is, to the bank of the Danube, he struggled with barbarian peoples, while others within more spacious and peaceful lands reigned in ease.

When he heard these things, the feeble old man, who had already received letters from the elder Maximianus writing that whatever had been said he would support, and had learned that the army was being enlarged by him, said in tears: Diocletian: So be it, if this is what is desired. It remained that, by the common counsel of all, the Caesars should be chosen.

Galerius: What need is there of counsel, since it is necessary that those two approve whatever we shall have done?

Diocletian: Quite so. For it is necessary that their sons be named. Now Maximianus had a son Maxentius, the son-in-law of this same Maximianus, a pernicious man and of evil mind, so arrogant and stubborn that he was not accustomed to show reverence to either his father or his father-in-law. And for this reason he was hated by both. Constantius also had a son Constantinus, a most virtuous young man and most worthy of that high station, who by his distinguished and handsome bearing of body, and by his military industry, and by his upright character, and by his singular affability, was beloved by the soldiers, and was both desired and prayed for by the common people. And he was then present, having been made by Diocletianus some time before a tribune of the first rank. Diocletian: What then is to be done? Galerius: That one, he said, is not worthy. For he who despised me as a private man, what will he do when he has received the empire?

Diocletian: But this one is both beloved, and will rule in such a way that he will be judged better and more clement than his own father.

Galerius: It will come about that I shall not be able to do what I wish. Those therefore ought to be named who are in my power, who fear me, who do nothing except at my command. Diocletian: Whom then shall we appoint? Galerius: Severus, he said. Diocletian: That dancer, that drunkard, that sot, for whom night serves as day and day as night? Galerius: He is worthy, he said, because he has faithfully provided for the soldiers, and I have sent him to Maximianus, so that he may be invested by him. Diocletian: So be it. Whom else will you give? Galerius: This one, he said, pointing to Daia, a certain half-barbarian youth, whom he had recently ordered to be called Maximianus from his own name. And Diocletianus himself had already partly changed his name for the sake of the omen, because Maximianus displayed loyalty with the utmost devotion. Diocletian: Who is this whom you offer me? Galerius: My kinsman, he said.

Diocletian: But the other, groaning: You give me men who are not fit to be entrusted with the guardianship of the state. Galerius: I have tested them, he said. Diocletian: You shall see to it, since you are about to take up the governance of the empire. I have laboured enough, and have provided for how, while I was emperor, the state might stand unharmed. If any adversity should come, it will not be my fault.

When these things had been settled, he came forth on the Kalends of May. All eyes were upon Constantinus. There was no doubt. The soldiers who were present, and the chosen senior soldiers, and those summoned from the legions, fixed upon this one man, rejoiced, hoped, and made vows. There was a high place outside the city at about three miles' distance, on the summit of which Maximianus himself had assumed the purple; and there a column had been erected with the image of Jupiter. Thither they proceeded. An assembly of soldiers was convoked. The old man with tears addressed the soldiers, saying: that he was infirm, that he sought rest after his labours, that he was handing the empire over to stronger men, that he was appointing other Caesars. The expectation of all was at its height as to what he would announce. Then suddenly he proclaimed Severus and Maximinus as Caesars. All on the tribunal were struck with amazement.

Constantinus was standing nearby: they hesitated among themselves whether the name of Constantinus had been changed, when in the sight of all Maximianus, stretching his hand backward, drew forth Daia from behind, pushing Constantinus aside, and stripping him of his private garb, placed him in the midst. All marvelled who he was and whence he came. No one, however, dared to protest, all being confounded by the unexpectedness of the strange event. Upon him Diocletianus cast his own purple, which he stripped from himself, and became Diocles once more. Then they descended; and the veteran king was carried out through the city in a carriage and dismissed to his homeland. But Daia, lately taken up from flocks and forests, straightway a shield-bearer, immediately a protector, soon a tribune, the next day a Caesar, received the East to be trodden down and ground under foot; inasmuch as he knew neither military service nor the state, being now not a shepherd of flocks, but of soldiers.

Maximianus, after the old men had been driven out, having done what he wished, now reckoned himself to be the sole lord of the whole world. For he despised Constantius, although it was necessary that he be named first, because he was both mild by nature and hindered by bodily infirmity. He hoped that this man would die shortly; 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 the empire? He himself had Licinius, a friend of long-standing companionship and familiar from his first military service, whose counsels he used for the management of all affairs.

But he was unwilling to make him Caesar, lest he should name him as a son, or so that he might afterwards name him Augustus and brother in the place of Constantius; but then he himself would hold the principate, and having raged at will over the whole earth, would celebrate his vicennalia, and having substituted his own son as Caesar, who was then nine years old, would himself also abdicate: so that while Licinius and Severus held the supreme power of the empire, and Maximinus and Candidianus held the secondary name of Caesars, he, surrounded by an impregnable wall, might pass a secure and tranquil old age. Such were the plans his counsellors laid before him. But God, whom he had made his enemy, dissolved all his designs.

Having therefore obtained the greatest power, he turned his mind to tormenting the world which had been laid open to him. For after the Persians had been conquered—whose custom and practice it is to give themselves over in servitude to their kings, and for kings to treat their people as household slaves—this wicked man wished to introduce this custom into Roman territory, which from the time of that victory he praised without shame. And because he could not openly command it, he acted in such a way as to take away freedom from men. First of all he took away honours. Not only decurions were tortured by him, but also the leading men of cities, men of distinguished and most excellent rank, and indeed in cases that were trivial and civil. If they seemed worthy of death, crosses stood ready; if not, fetters were prepared. Freeborn and noble matrons were dragged into the gyneceum.

If anyone was to be flogged, four stakes were driven into the ground in a stable, to which no slave had ever been accustomed to be stretched. Why should I speak of his amusements or his pleasures? He kept bears most like himself in ferocity and size, which he had selected throughout the whole period of his reign. As often as it pleased him to be entertained, he would order one of these to be brought by name. Men were thrown to these not exactly to be eaten, but to be swallowed whole: and when their limbs were torn apart, he laughed most pleasantly; nor did he ever dine without human blood. For those without rank the punishment was fire; and this he had first permitted against Christians, having issued laws that after torture those condemned should be burned with slow fires. When they had been bound, a gentle flame was first applied to their feet for so long a time until the hardened skin of the soles, contracted by the fire, was torn away from the bones.

Then torches, lit and extinguished, were applied to each limb in turn, so that no place on the body was left untouched. And meanwhile cold water was poured over the face, and the mouth was washed with moisture, lest with the throat dried out by dryness, the breath should be quickly surrendered; which in the end came to pass, when after many a day, all the skin having been consumed, the force of the fire had penetrated to the innermost vitals. Thereupon, a pyre being built, the bodies already burned were cremated; the bones gathered up and ground to powder were cast into river and sea.

What therefore he had learned in the torturing of Christians, he practised by force of habit upon all. No punishment was light in his eyes: not islands, not prisons, not mines; but fire, the cross, the sword were with him everyday and ordinary matters. Household servants and administrators were corrected with the lance. In the senate-house the death penalty and execution by the sword were granted as a kind of favour to very few, who on account of their former merits had obtained a good death. Those things had already been trifles to him. Eloquence was extinguished, advocates were removed, jurists were either banished or put to death. Letters moreover were reckoned among the evil arts; and those who knew them were trampled upon and execrated as enemies and foes. License over all things was assumed, the laws being dissolved, and given to the judges. Military judges, ignorant of humane letters, were sent into the provinces without assessors.

But indeed that which was a public calamity and a cause of common mourning for all was the census dispatched at one time into the provinces and cities, with assessors spread everywhere and harassing everything; it was the appearance of a hostile tumult and of dreadful captivity. Fields were measured clod by clod, vines and trees were counted, animals of every kind were registered, the heads of men were noted down; in the cities the urban and rural common people were assembled together, all the forums were filled with crowds of households; each person was present with his children, with his slaves: the sounds of torture and flogging rang out, sons were hung up against their parents, the most faithful slaves were tormented against their masters, wives against their husbands. If all else failed, they were tortured against themselves; and when pain had prevailed, things were written down which they did not possess. No excuse of age or infirmity was accepted.

The sick and the feeble were brought in; the ages of individuals were assessed, years were added to small children, years were taken away from the old. Everything was full of grief and sorrow. What the ancients had done by right of war against the conquered, this man dared to do against Romans and those subject to Romans; because his own parents had been subjected to the census which Trajanus, as victor, had imposed as a punishment upon the Dacians who were continually rebelling. After this, money was paid per head, and a price was given for life. Yet not even the same assessors were trusted: but others were sent one after another, as though they would find more. And it was always doubled, since those men found nothing, but added as they pleased, lest they should seem to have been sent in vain. Meanwhile the animals were diminishing, and mortals were dying, and tribute was none the less paid for the dead, so that it was no longer permitted either to live or at least to die without cost.

Only beggars remained, from whom nothing could be exacted, whom misery and wretchedness had made safe from every kind of injury. Yet the impious man took pity on them, so that they should not be in want. He ordered them to be gathered together, and transported in small boats to be drowned in the sea. So merciful a man was he, who took thought lest anyone, while he was emperor, should be wretched. Thus, while he took precaution lest anyone should evade the census under the pretence of beggary, he slew a multitude of wretched men contrary to every law of humanity.

Now the judgment of God drew near to him, and the time followed in which his affairs began to slip away and crumble. He had not yet turned his mind to overthrowing or driving out Constantius. While he was occupied with those matters which I set forth above, he was awaiting his death: but he did not think he would die so quickly. When Constantius was gravely ill, he had sent letters requesting that his son Constantine be sent back to him to be seen, and indeed had done so long before. But Galerius wished nothing less. For he had often laid snares for the young man; because he dared nothing openly, lest he stir up civil war against himself, and, what he feared most, the hatred of the soldiers. Under the pretext of exercise and sport he had thrown him to wild beasts: but in vain; for the hand of God protected the man, who delivered him from his hands at the very critical moment.

For since he had been unable to kill him for quite some time, he gave him his seal as the day was already declining, and commanded him to set out the next morning, having received his instructions—intending either to detain him himself on some occasion, or to send ahead letters so that he might be held by Severus. When Constantine foresaw this, while the emperor was already at rest, after supper he hastened to depart, and having removed all the post-horses from many stations, he flew away. The next day the emperor, having deliberately slept until midday, ordered him to be summoned. He was told that Constantine had set out immediately after supper. He began to rage and fume. He demanded the post-horses, so that he might have him brought back. He was informed that the public post had been stripped bare. He could scarcely hold back his tears.

But Constantine, having used incredible speed, arrived at his father who was already failing, and commended him to the soldiers, and 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 assumed the empire, Constantine Augustus did nothing before restoring the Christians to their worship and their God. This was his first enactment for the restoration of holy religion.

A few days later, his laurelled image was brought to that evil beast. He deliberated long whether to receive it. The matter nearly came to the point where he would have burned it, along with the man who had brought it; had not his friends turned him from that fury, warning him of the danger, that all the soldiers, against whose will the unknown Caesars had been made, would have gone over to Constantine and flocked to him with the greatest eagerness, had he come armed. And so he received the image very unwillingly, and sent him the purple, so that it might appear he had of his own accord admitted him into partnership. His calculations were already thrown into disorder, and he could not name another beyond the number, as he had wished. But he devised this scheme: to name Severus, who was older in years, as Augustus, and to order that Constantine be called not Emperor, as he had been made, but Caesar together with Maximinus, so as to push him back from second place to fourth.

His affairs seemed in some measure already settled, when suddenly another terror was brought to him: that Maxentius, his own son-in-law, had been made Emperor at Rome. The cause of this uprising was as follows. Since he had resolved, by instituting censuses, to devour the whole world, he had leapt into such madness that he did not wish even the Roman people to be exempt from this captivity. Assessors were already being appointed, who were sent to Rome to register the plebs. At about the same time he had also abolished the Praetorian camp. And so a few soldiers, who had been left at Rome in the camp, seizing their opportunity, having killed certain officers, not without the approval of the people, who had been stirred up, clothed Maxentius in the purple. When this news was brought to him, he was somewhat disturbed by the novelty of the affair, yet not excessively frightened. He both hated the man and could not make three Caesars. It seemed enough to have once done what he did not wish.

He summoned Severus, and having urged him to recover the empire, sent him with the army of Maximianus to attack Maxentius; and sent him to Rome, in which city those soldiers had been received most lavishly very often, so that they not only wished that city to be safe, but wished to live there. Maxentius, conscious of so great a crime, although by right of paternal inheritance he could draw his father's soldiers over to himself, yet thinking it possible that his father-in-law Maximianus, fearing the same thing, might leave Severus in Illyricum and come himself with his own army to attack him, sought how he might fortify himself against the impending danger. He sent the purple to his own father, who was living in retirement in Campania after laying down the empire, and named him Augustus a second time. He indeed, both desirous of revolution and having laid it down unwillingly, seized it gladly. Severus meanwhile advanced and approached the walls of the City under arms.

Immediately the soldiers, raising their standards, departed and surrendered themselves against the man against whom they had come. What remained for one thus abandoned but flight? But Maximianus, now having resumed the empire, was already blocking his way, and at his approach Severus fled to Ravenna, and shut himself in there with a few soldiers. When he saw that he would be handed over to Maximianus, he surrendered himself, and returned the purple garment to the same man from whom he had received it. By this act he gained nothing other than a good death. For his veins being cut, he was compelled to die gently. From this point he began to persecute his own.

But Herculius, knowing the madness of Maximianus, began to think that he, inflamed with anger at the news of Severus's death, would come with his army, and perhaps with Maximinus joined to him, and with doubled forces which could in no way be resisted: and so, having fortified the city and carefully prepared the undertaking against his enemies, he set out for Gaul, to win Constantine over to his side by the marriage of his younger daughter. Meanwhile the other, having assembled an army, invaded Italy, approached the City, intending to destroy the Senate and slaughter the people. But he found everything closed and fortified. There was no hope of breaking in; the assault was difficult; he had not enough forces to besiege the walls, since he had never seen Rome and estimated it to be not much larger than the cities he knew. Then certain legions, detesting the crime that a father-in-law should attack his son-in-law, and that Roman soldiers had abandoned the empire by transferring their standards to Rome, began to waver.

And already the rest of the soldiers were wavering, when he, his pride broken and his spirit cast down, and fearing the fate of Severus, threw himself at the feet of the soldiers and begged not to be handed over to the enemy, until by enormous promises he bent the minds of some, and turned the standards back, and in panic took to flight; in which he could most easily have been overwhelmed, if anyone had followed with even a few men. Fearing this, he gave the soldiers license to scatter as widely as possible and plunder everything or destroy it, so that anyone who wished to pursue would lack supplies. That part of Italy therefore through which that pestilential column marched was laid waste: everything was pillaged, women violated, virgins ravished, parents and husbands tortured to betray their daughters, their wives, their wealth. Herds of cattle and beasts of burden were driven off as plunder from barbarians.

In this manner he withdrew to his own seat, having ravaged everything in a hostile fashion, once a Roman Emperor, now a despoiler of Italy. Indeed long before, when he had received the name of emperor, he had declared himself an enemy of the Roman name, whose title he wished to change; so that it should be called not the Roman empire, but the Dacian.

After his flight, when the other Maximianus had returned from Gaul, he held the empire in common with his son. But the young man was obeyed more than the old, since the son's power was prior and greater, and it was he who had also restored the empire to his father. The old man bore it ill that he could not freely do what he wished, and envied his son with a childish rivalry. He therefore thought of expelling the young man, so as to claim his own for himself. This seemed easy, because the soldiers were his own who had abandoned Severus. He summoned the people and soldiers, as if about to hold an assembly concerning the present ills of the state. Having said much about these matters, he turned his hands against his son; and declaring that he was the author of the evils, the prime cause of the calamities which the state was enduring, he tore the purple from his shoulders.

The young man, stripped of it, threw himself headlong from the tribunal, and was caught by the soldiers. By whose anger and outcry the impious old man was confounded, and was driven from the city of Rome, like another Tarquin the Proud.

Returning again to Gaul, where he tarried for some time, he set out to his son's enemy Maximianus, ostensibly to confer with him about settling the state of the republic; but in truth to kill him by seizing an opportunity of reconciliation, and to hold his kingdom, having been shut out from his own wherever he went. Diocles was there, recently summoned by his son-in-law, so that what he had not done before, he might in his presence give the empire to Licinius, substituted in the place of Severus. And so it was done in the presence of both. Thus at one time there were six. Wherefore, his plans being thwarted, the old man Maximianus was contriving a third flight as well: he returned to Gaul full of evil thought and wickedness, to ensnare by treachery Constantine the emperor his son-in-law, the son of his son-in-law; and in order to be able to deceive, he laid aside the royal garb. The Frankish nation was in arms.

He persuaded the unsuspecting man that he need not take his whole army with him, that the barbarians could be overcome with a few soldiers; so that he himself might have the army, which he would seize, and Constantine might be overwhelmed on account of the small number of his soldiers. The young man trusted him as one experienced and old; he obeyed him as a father-in-law: he set out, leaving behind the greater part of his soldiers. The other, having waited a few days, when he now estimated that Constantine had entered the territory of the barbarians, suddenly assumed the purple, seized the treasuries, distributed lavishly as is his custom; fabricated stories about Constantine, which immediately fell back upon himself. The news of what had happened was swiftly reported to the Emperor. With admirable speed he flew back with his army. The man was overwhelmed unexpectedly, not yet sufficiently prepared; the soldiers returned to their Emperor. He had occupied Massilia and had barred the gates.

The Emperor drew nearer; and addressed him as he stood on the wall, not harshly nor in a hostile manner: but asked what he had intended, what had been lacking to him, why he did what was least becoming to himself above all. But he poured abuse from the walls. Then suddenly behind him the gates were thrown open, the soldiers were admitted. The rebellious Emperor was dragged before the Emperor—an impious father, a treacherous father-in-law. He heard the crimes he had committed, his garment was stripped from him, and after being rebuked he was granted his life.

Thus having lost the honor of emperor and father-in-law, unable to endure his humiliation, he contrived yet other treacheries. Because he had once acted with impunity, he called his daughter Fausta, and solicited her now with entreaties, now with blandishments, to betray her husband, promising her a worthier man, asking that the bedchamber be left open and that she allow it to be guarded more carelessly. She promised she would do it, and immediately reported everything to her husband. A scene was arranged by which the crime might be caught in the act. A certain worthless eunuch was substituted, to die in place of the Emperor. He rose in the dead of night; he saw everything favorable to the ambush. The sentinels were few, and those indeed at some distance; to whom however he said he had seen a dream which he wished to tell his son. He entered armed, and having slain the eunuch, leapt forth exulting, and declared what he had done. Suddenly from the other side Constantine appeared with a band of armed men.

The body of the slain man was brought out from the bedchamber: the manifest murderer stood dumbfounded and speechless:

As hard flint, or as Marpesian rock he stands;

he was rebuked for his impiety and wickedness. Finally he was given the power of a free death:

And from a lofty beam he ties the shapeless knot of death.

Thus that greatest Emperor of the Roman name, who over a long interval of time celebrated with immense glory the vows of twenty years, his most arrogant throat crushed and broken, ended his detestable life by a shameful and ignominious death.

From him God, the avenger of his religion and his people, turned his eyes to the other Maximianus, the author of the abominable persecution, so as to show in him also the power of his majesty. He was already thinking of celebrating his own vicennalia; and as one who had long afflicted the provinces with levies of gold and silver which he had made, in order to pay back what he had promised, he struck yet another blow even in the name of the vicennalia. Who can worthily recount with what vexation of the human race the collection was celebrated, especially of the grain supply?

Soldiers of every office, or rather executioners, clung to each individual; it was uncertain which was to be satisfied first: no pardon for those who had none; they had to endure manifold tortures unless what was not there was produced immediately: surrounded by many guards there was no opportunity to breathe: at no time of year even the slightest rest; frequent conflict over the same men, either with the judges themselves or with the soldiers of the judges: no threshing-floor without a tax-collector, no vintage without a guard, nothing left to the laborers for their sustenance. Although these things are intolerable—to snatch from the mouths of men the food earned by their labor—yet it is in some way bearable, or at least by hope of future things. What of clothing of every kind? What of gold? What of silver? Must not these necessarily be obtained from the sale of produce? From where then, O most mad tyrant, shall I furnish this, when you carry off all the produce, violently snatch away everything that grows?

Who then was not stripped of his goods, so that the wealth which existed under his rule might be scraped together for a vow which he was not going to celebrate.

When Licinius had therefore been proclaimed emperor, Maximinus, enraged, wished neither to be called Caesar nor to be named in third place. He therefore sends frequent envoys to him: he begs him to yield to his arrangement, to maintain his established order, to give way to age, and to pay honour to grey hairs. But the other raises his horns more boldly, and argues by the precedent of time that he ought to be first, who first took up the purple; he scorns his entreaties and commands. The beast is grieved and bellows, because, having made him Caesar for that very reason that he might be obedient to him, yet that man, forgetful of so great a benefit, impiously resisted his will and prayers. Overcome by his stubbornness, he removes the name of Caesars, and calls himself and Licinius Augusti, and Maxentius and Constantine sons of the Augusti; Maximinus afterwards writes, as though announcing that at the Campus Martius lately celebrated he had been proclaimed Augustus by the army.

The other received this news with grief and sorrow; and he ordered all four to be counted as emperors.

Now the eighteenth year was running its course, when God struck him with an incurable plague. An evil sore arose on him in the lower part of his genitals, and spread more widely. The physicians cut and treat it. But the wound breaks open the scar already formed; and a vein bursting, blood flows to the point of danger of death. Yet the bleeding is barely stanched. A new course of treatment from the beginning. Nevertheless he is brought to a scar. Again at a slight movement of the body the wound is reopened: more blood flows than before. He grows pale, and, his strength consumed, he wastes away; and at that time indeed the stream of blood is checked. The wound begins not to respond to medicine: cancer invades all the neighbouring parts; and the more it is cut away, the more fiercely it rages; the more it is treated, the more it grows.

The masters gave way—
Phillyrides Chiron, and Melampus son of Amythaon.

Renowned physicians are summoned from all sides. Human hands accomplish nothing. Recourse is had to idols. Apollo and Asclepius are prayed to; a remedy is demanded. Apollo prescribes a treatment. The evil is increased much for the worse. Now destruction was not far off, and had seized all the lower parts. The viscera rot away on the outside, and the whole seat dissolves into putrefaction. Yet the hapless physicians do not cease to foment and treat, even without hope of overcoming the disease. The evil, repelled from the marrow, retreats inward and seizes the internal parts; worms are bred within. Moreover the stench spreads not only through the palace but pervades the whole city. Nor is this surprising, since by now the passages of excrement and urine had become confused. The body, devoured by worms and dissolved into putrefaction, is broken up amid intolerable pains.

At the same time he raises horrible cries to the stars,
Such as a wounded bull is imagined to bellow.

Cooked and warm animals were applied to the festering seat, so that the heat might draw out the little worms. When the dressings were removed, an incalculable swarm seethed forth; and yet the teeming corruption had generated a far greater abundance of viscera to be consumed. Now the parts of the body had by the diverse disease lost their appearance. The upper part as far as the wound had dried up, and the livid skin, in pitiful emaciation, had sunk far down between the bones. The lower part, without any shape of feet, had swollen and separated in the manner of a wineskin. And these things went on for a full year; until at last, subdued by his sufferings, he was compelled to confess God: crying out at intervals under the pressure of fresh pain, that he would restore the temple of God, and make full satisfaction for his crime. And now, failing, he sent forth an edict of this kind.

34. The Edict of Toleration by Galerius

Among the other things which we have always arranged for the advantage and utility of the commonwealth, we had indeed wished heretofore, in accordance with the ancient laws and public discipline, to correct all things among the Romans, and to provide that the Christians also, who had abandoned the sect of their own parents, should return to sound minds. For by some such reasoning so great a will had seized those same Christians, and such folly had possessed them, that they did not follow those ancient institutions which perhaps their own parents had first established: but according to their own judgment, and as it pleased them, they made for themselves laws which they observed, and gathered together various peoples in diverse places.

Finally, when our command had gone forth to this effect, that they should conform to the ancient institutions, many were subjected to danger, many were also struck down; and when very many persevered in their purpose, and we saw that they neither rendered to the gods the worship and due reverence, nor observed the God of the Christians, in consideration of our most mild clemency and our perpetual custom, by which we are wont to grant pardon to all men, we have thought that our most ready indulgence ought to be extended in this matter also; so that they may again be Christians, and may arrange their assemblies, provided they do nothing contrary to discipline. Moreover by another letter we shall signify to the judges what they ought to observe. Wherefore, in accordance with this our indulgence, they ought to pray to their God for our welfare, and for that of the commonwealth, and for their own, so that the commonwealth may endure unharmed on every side, and they may be able to live securely in their own homes.

This edict was posted at Nicomedia on the day before the Kalends of May, in the consulship of himself for the eighth time and of Maximinus for the second. Then, with the prisons opened, dearest Donatus, you were freed from custody together with the other confessors, you for whom the prison had been a dwelling-place for six years. Yet he did not by this act receive pardon for his crime from God: but after a few days, having commended his wife and son to Licinius and placed them in his hands, when already the limbs of his whole body were falling away, he was consumed by a dreadful putrefaction. And this became known at Nicomedia on the Ides of that same month, when the vicennalia were about to fall on the approaching Kalends of March.

When Maximinus heard this news, he flew with relays of horses arranged from the East, so as to seize the provinces and, while Licinius delayed, to claim everything for himself as far as the strait of Chalcedon. And entering Bithynia, in order to win favour for himself at the moment, he abolished the census tax to the great joy of all. Discord arose between the two emperors, and almost war. Armed men held the opposite banks. But on certain conditions peace and friendship were arranged, and a treaty was made in the very strait, and right hands were joined. He returned secure, and became such as he had been in Syria and in Egypt. First he removed the indulgence granted to Christians under a common title, having suborned embassies from cities which petitioned that Christians should not be permitted to build meeting-places within their cities, so that he might appear to be doing under persuasion and compulsion what he was going to do of his own accord.

Yielding to these, he appointed in a new fashion one high priest for each city from among the leading men, who should both offer sacrifices to all their gods daily, and, supported by the ministry of the old priests, should take care that Christians neither built nor worshipped publicly or privately: but should compel those apprehended by his authority to sacrifice, or hand them over to the judges. And this was not enough, unless he also set over the provinces single men of a higher rank of dignity as though Pontiffs; and he ordered both these and the others to go about adorned with white cloaks. Moreover he was preparing to do what he had long since done in the parts of the East. For while he professed clemency in outward appearance, he forbade the servants of God to be killed, but ordered them to be maimed. And so from the confessors eyes were gouged out, hands were cut off, feet were lopped off, noses or ears were cut away.

While he was contriving these things, he was deterred by letters from Constantine.

He dissembled therefore. And yet if anyone had fallen into his hands, he was secretly drowned in the sea. He did not cease from his custom either, of sacrificing in the palace every single day. And this he had been the first to devise, that all the animals on which he fed should be slaughtered at the altars not by cooks but by priests, and that nothing whatsoever should be set on the table that had not been offered, or sacrificed, or sprinkled with wine; so that whoever had been invited to dinner should go away from it defiled and impure. In other respects too he was like his master. For whatever Diocles or Maximianus had left remaining, this man scraped away, carrying off everything without any shame. And so the granaries of private persons were locked, storehouses were sealed, debts were exacted for future years. Hence famine, though the fields were bearing; hence unheard-of dearness.

Herds and flocks of cattle were seized from the fields for the daily sacrifices, by which he had so corrupted his men that they scorned the grain supply, and poured it out everywhere without selection, without measure; while he paid his attendants, whose number was vast, in costly garments and gold coins, gave silver to common soldiers and recruits, and honoured barbarians with every kind of largess. For as to his taking away the goods of the living, or giving them as gifts to his own men, according as each had asked for another's property, I know not whether one ought not to have given him thanks for it, in that after the manner of merciful robbers he stripped them of bloodless spoils.

But that capital vice, surpassing all who have ever existed, his lust for corruption—what shall I say of it, save that it was blind and unbridled, and yet even these words cannot express it in proportion to the indignation it deserves. The greatness of the crime surpasses the capacity of the tongue. Eunuchs, panders, pried into everything. Wherever there was a face of more than common beauty, fathers and husbands had to withdraw. Noble women were stripped of their garments, and likewise virgins, and they were inspected limb by limb, lest any part of the body should be unworthy of the imperial bed. If any had refused, she was drowned in water; as though chastity under that adulterer were a crime of treason. Some, their wives having been violated—wives whom they held most dear for their chastity and fidelity—unable to bear the grief, killed themselves as well. Under this monster, no integrity of chastity existed, save where conspicuous ugliness kept his barbarous lust at bay.

Finally he had introduced this custom, that no one should take a wife without his permission, so that he himself might be the first taster at every marriage. He gave freeborn virgins, once deflowered, as wives to his slaves. But also his Companions under such a Prince imitated this example, and violated with impunity the bedchambers of their fellow citizens. For who would seek redress? He seized the daughters of men of middling rank as each pleased him. Those of the first rank, who could not be seized, were requested as favours; nor was it permitted to refuse, the Emperor subscribing, without either having to perish, or to accept some barbarian as a son-in-law. For almost no one stood at his side as a guard save from the nation of those who, driven from their lands by the Goths at the time of the vicennalia, surrendered themselves to Maximianus, to the misfortune of the human race, so that those men, fleeing barbarian servitude, might lord it over Romans.

Surrounded by these satellites and protectors, he made a mockery of the East.

Finally, since he had given himself this law of lust, that he counted lawful whatever he desired, he could not restrain himself even from Valeria, whom he had recently called Augusta and mother. Valeria had come to him after the death of Maximianus, thinking she would dwell more safely under his protection, especially because he had a wife. But the wicked creature immediately burns with passion. The woman was still in dark garments, the time of mourning not yet completed. Having sent envoys ahead, he demands her in marriage, intending to put away his wife if he obtained her. She answered freely, as she alone could: first, that she could not treat of marriage in that funereal dress, the ashes of her husband, his father, being still warm; next, that he was acting impiously in repudiating a faithful wife, being sure to do the same to her as well; lastly, that it was a sin for a woman of that name and station, without custom, without precedent, to take a second husband.

Word is brought to the man of what she had dared. Lust is turned into anger and fury. He immediately proscribes the woman, seizes her goods, takes away her attendants, puts her eunuchs to death under torture, banishes her together with her mother into exile; and not to any fixed place: but drives her headlong hither and thither with mockery and insult, and condemns her friends on a charge of adultery brought against them.

There was a most distinguished woman, who already had grandchildren from her grown sons. Valeria loved her as a second mother, and he suspects it was by her counsel that she had been refused. He gives orders to the Governor Eratineus to put her to death with dishonour. Two others are joined to her, equally noble, of whom one had left a Vestal handmaid, a virgin, at Rome, at that time an intimate of the fugitive Valeria. The other had a husband who was a senator, not too closely connected with the Augusta. But both were put to death on account of their exceptional bodily beauty and chastity. The women are suddenly seized, not for a trial, but for an act of brigandage. For no accuser was forthcoming. A certain Jew was found, guilty of other crimes, who, induced by the hope of impunity, should give false testimony against the innocent. The judge, fair and diligent, brought the case outside the city with a guard, lest he be overwhelmed with stones. This tragedy was being played out at Nicaea.

Tortures are applied to the Jew, while he was to say what he had been ordered; the women, lest they should speak, are restrained by blows from the torturers: the innocent are ordered to be led away. Weeping and lamentation, not only of that husband who was present for his well-deserving wife, but of all whom the unworthy and unheard-of affair had drawn together. And lest they should be snatched from the hands of the executioners by the rush of the people, light-armed soldiers and archers drawn up in military fashion escorted them. Thus, in the midst of wedges of armed men, they were led to execution. And they would have lain unburied, their household having fled, had not the furtive compassion of friends buried them. Nor was the promised impunity paid to the false witness: but fixed to a gibbet, he disclosed the whole mystery, and with his last breath declared to all who were watching, and testified, that they were innocent and had been unjustly slain.

But the Augusta, banished to certain desolate wildernesses of Syria, made her father Diocletian aware of her calamity through secret messengers. He sends envoys, and asks that his daughter be sent back to him. It avails nothing. Again and yet again he entreats. She is not sent back. Finally he sends a certain kinsman of his, a man of military rank and influence, to remind him of his benefits and to plead with him. He too, his mission unaccomplished, reports back that his prayers were in vain.

And at the same time the statues of the aged Maximianus were being torn down by order of Constantine, and the images in which he had been painted together with him were being removed. And because the two old men had most often been painted together, the images of both were taken down together. And so when he, still living, saw what had never happened to any emperor before, he was afflicted with a twofold grief and resolved that he must die. He tossed himself this way and that, his soul seething with anguish, taking neither sleep nor food. Sighs and groans, frequent tears, constant tossing of the body, now on the bed, now on the ground. Thus that most fortunate emperor of twenty years, cast down to a humble life and so trampled by injuries, and driven to a hatred of life, was at last consumed by hunger and anguish.

There remained now but one of the enemies of God, whose end and ruin I shall now append. Since he bore a rivalry against Licinius, because he had been preferred over him by Maximianus, although he had recently confirmed a friendship with him, yet when he heard that Constantine's sister had been betrothed to Licinius, he supposed that alliance of the two emperors was being forged against himself. He himself also sent envoys secretly to the city, to seek the society and friendship of Maxentius. He also wrote to him in a familiar manner. The envoys were received kindly, friendship was made, and the images of both were placed together. Maxentius embraced it gladly, as though it were divine aid. For he had already declared war on Constantine, as though to avenge the death of his father.

Hence the suspicion had arisen that the old man had feigned that so deadly a discord with his son in order to make a way for himself to cut down the others, and with all of them removed, to claim the empire of the whole world for himself and his son. But that was false. For his purpose was that, with his son and the rest destroyed, he might restore himself and Diocletian to the throne.

Civil arms had already been set in motion between them. And although Maxentius kept himself within Rome, because he had received a response that he would perish if he went outside the city gates, yet the war was being conducted through capable commanders. Maxentius had greater strength, in that he had received his father's army from Severus, and had recently drawn his own from the Moors and Italians. Battle was joined, and the soldiers of Maxentius prevailed; until afterwards Constantine, with his resolve strengthened and prepared for either outcome, moved all his forces closer to the city and encamped opposite the Milvian Bridge. The day was approaching on which Maxentius had taken the imperial power, which falls on the sixth day before the Kalends of November; and his quinquennalia were coming to an end. Constantine was admonished in a dream to mark the heavenly sign of God on the shields, and so to join battle.

He did as he was commanded, and marking Christ on the shields with the letter X turned sideways, with its top bent around, the army thus armed takes up its weapons. The enemy advances to meet them without their emperor, and crosses the bridge. The battle lines clash on an equal front. Both sides fight with the utmost force. Neither flight is known to these, nor to those. Sedition arises in the city, and the commander is reproached as a deserter of the public safety. And then suddenly the people (for he was giving circus games on his birthday), cried out with one voice that Constantine could not be conquered. Shaken by this cry, he rushed out, and summoning certain senators, ordered the Sibylline books to be consulted, in which it was found that on that day the enemy of the Romans would perish. Led by this response into hope of victory, he goes forth, comes into the battle line. The bridge behind him is cut apart.

At the sight of this, the battle grows fiercer, and the hand of God was over the battle line. Maxentianus is routed; he himself, turning to flight, hastens toward the bridge, which had been broken, and pressed by the multitude of those fleeing, is hurled into the Tiber. The most bitter war at last concluded, the Emperor Constantine was received with great rejoicing of the Senate and people of Rome, and learned of the treachery of Maximinus, intercepted his letters, and found his statues and images. The Senate decreed to Constantine, in recognition of his valor, the title of the first name, which Maximinus claimed for himself; when the news of the victory and liberation of the City was brought to him, he received it no otherwise than if he himself had been defeated. Then, upon learning of the Senate's decree, he blazed up with such grief that he openly professed enmity, and uttered insults mixed with mockery against the greatest emperor.

Constantine, having settled affairs in the City, hastened to Milan in the following winter. Licinius arrived there likewise, to receive his wife. When Maximinus learned that they were occupied with the solemnities of the wedding, he moved his army from Syria, in the midst of winter raging as fiercely as possible, and with doubled marches rushed into Bithynia, his column exhausted. For by the greatest rains, and snows, and mud, and cold, and toil, beasts of burden of every kind were lost, whose pitiful slaughter along the road foretold the likeness of the coming war and a similar disaster for the soldiers. Nor did he himself tarry within his own borders: but having immediately crossed the strait, he came armed to the gates of Byzantium. There were garrison soldiers there, stationed by Licinius for emergencies of this kind. He first attempted to entice them with gifts and promises; then to terrify them with force and assault; yet neither force nor promises availed anything.

Eleven days had already been consumed, during which there had been time to send messengers and letters to the Emperor, when the soldiers, distrusting not their loyalty but their small numbers, surrendered themselves. From there he advanced to Heraclea; and there likewise detained by the same means, he lost the time of several days. And already Licinius, by a hastened march, had come with a few men to Adrianople, when he, having accepted Perinthus in surrender and tarrying somewhat, advanced to a station eighteen miles distant. For he could go no further, since Licinius was already holding the next station, distant the same number of miles; who, having gathered as many soldiers as he could from the nearest regions, was proceeding to meet Maximinus, more to delay him than with the intention of fighting or hope of victory. For whereas he led an army of seventy thousand armed men, Licinius had barely assembled a number of thirty thousand. For the soldiers had been scattered through various regions, and the narrowness of time did not allow all to be assembled.

As the armies drew near, therefore, battle seemed imminent within a few days. Then Maximinus made a vow of this kind to Jupiter: that if he gained the victory, he would extinguish the name of the Christians and utterly destroy it. Then in the following night the Angel of God stood by Licinius as he slept, urging him to rise quickly and pray to the supreme God with his whole army; the victory would be his if he did so. After these words, when he seemed to himself to rise, and the one who had admonished him stood beside him, he then taught him how and with what words prayer was to be made. Then, having shaken off sleep, he ordered a notary to be summoned, and dictated these words as he had heard them: Supreme God, we beseech thee. Holy God, we beseech thee. We commend all justice to thee, we commend our safety to thee, we commend our empire to thee. Through thee we live, through thee we are victorious and blessed. Supreme, holy God, hear our prayers.

We stretch out our arms to thee. Hear us, holy, supreme God. These words were written out in many copies and sent through the prefects and tribunes, so that each might teach his own soldiers. The spirit of all grew, as they believed that victory had been announced to them from heaven. The emperor appointed the battle for the day of the Kalends of May, which would complete the eighth year of his proclamation, so that he might be defeated on his own birthday above all, just as that other had been defeated at Rome. Maximinus wished to advance earlier: in the morning of the day before he drew up his battle line, so that he might celebrate his birthday as victor on the following day. It was reported in the camp that Maximinus had moved. The soldiers take up arms and advance to meet him. Between them lay a barren and bare plain, which they call Serenum. Both battle lines were already in sight of each other.

The soldiers of Licinius set down their shields, loosen their helmets, stretch their hands to heaven, and with the prefects leading, recite the prayer after the Emperor. The doomed battle line hears the murmur of those praying. They, having said the prayer three times, now filled with courage, replace their helmets on their heads and take up their shields. The emperors advance to a parley. Maximinus could not be brought to peace. For he was restraining Licinius, and supposed he would be deserted by his soldiers, because Licinius was sparing in giving while he himself was lavish, and with this purpose had moved to war: that, having received the army of Licinius without a contest, he might immediately proceed against Constantine with doubled forces.

Therefore they drew closer, the trumpets sound, the standards advance. The soldiers of Licinius, making an assault, attack the enemy. But they, struck with terror, could neither draw their swords nor hurl their javelins. Maximinus went about the battle line, now soliciting the soldiers of Licinius with entreaties, now with gifts. He was heard nowhere. An assault was made upon him, and he fled back to his own men. His battle line was cut down with impunity, and so great a number of legions, so great a force of soldiers, was being mowed down by a few. No one mindful of his name, no one of his valor, no one of his former rewards; as though they had come not to battle but to a devoted death, so did the supreme God subject them to their enemies to be slaughtered. Already an immense multitude lay prostrate. Maximinus sees that the matter is going otherwise than he had supposed.

He cast aside the purple, and putting on the garb of a slave he fled, and crossed the strait: but in the army, half had been laid low, and the other part either surrendered or put to flight. For the deserting emperor had taken away the shame of deserting. But he, on the Kalends of May, that is, within one night and one day, reached Nicomedia the following night, though the place of battle was a hundred and sixty miles distant; and snatching up his children and wife, and a few companions from the palace, he made for the East. But in Cappadocia, having gathered soldiers from the fugitives and from the East, he halted. And so he resumed the purple.

Licinius, however, having received a portion of the army and distributed it, crossed his army into Bithynia a few days after the battle, and entering Nicomedia, gave thanks to God by whose aid he had conquered; and on the day of the Ides of June, in the third consulship of Constantine and himself, he ordered letters of this kind, issued to the governor for the restoration of the Church, to be publicly posted.

"When I, Constantine Augustus, and I, Licinius Augustus, had met together at Milan, and were treating of all things which pertained to the advantage and security of the public, we thought that among other things which seemed likely to profit the majority of men, or in the first place, those things ought to be arranged by which reverence for the Divinity was maintained, so that we might grant to Christians and to all others free power to follow whatever religion each one wished, so that whatever divinity there is in the heavenly seat might be appeased and propitious to us and to all who are placed under our authority.

Therefore we thought it right to undertake this plan with wholesome and most upright reasoning, that we should consider that no one whatsoever should be denied the opportunity who had given his mind either to the observance of the Christians, or to that religion which he himself felt most fitting for himself; so that the supreme Divinity, whose religion we follow with free minds, may be able to show us in all things his accustomed favor and benevolence. Wherefore it is fitting that your Devotion should know that it has pleased us that, all conditions being entirely removed which were contained in former writings sent to your office concerning the name of Christians, now truly and simply each one of those who hold the same will to observe the religion of the Christians shall strive to observe that same thing without any disturbance and molestation. These things we thought should be signified most fully to your Solicitude, so that you might know that we have given to these same Christians free and absolute permission to practice their own religion.

Which, since you perceive it has been granted by us to these same persons, your Devotion understands that to others also the power of their own religion or observance has been similarly opened and freely granted for the quiet of our times; so that each one may have free power to choose and practice what he will, because it is our will that nothing be detracted from the honor or religion of any. Moreover, this we have thought fit to ordain in the case of the Christians, that if those same places at which they were formerly accustomed to assemble, concerning which also a definite arrangement had previously been included in the letters formerly sent to your office, appear to have been purchased previously either from our treasury or from any other party, the same shall be restored to the Christians without payment and without any demand of price, setting aside all delay and ambiguity.

Those also who have received them as a gift shall likewise restore the same to these Christians as quickly as possible; and even those who have purchased them, or those who have received them as a gift, if they shall seek anything from our benevolence, shall apply to the Vicar, so that provision may be made for them also through our clemency. All these things shall be handed over immediately to the body of the Christians through your intercession and without delay.

And since these same Christians are known to have possessed not only those places at which they were accustomed to assemble, but also other places belonging to the right of their body, that is, of the churches, not of individual persons, all these things under the law which we have set forth above, you shall order to be restored without any ambiguity or controversy whatsoever to these same Christians, that is, to their body and assemblies, with the above-mentioned arrangement preserved, namely, that those who restore the same without price, as we have said, may hope for indemnity from our benevolence. In all these matters you ought to provide your most effective intercession for the aforesaid body of Christians, so that our command may be fulfilled as quickly as possible, whereby also in this matter provision may be made for the public peace through our clemency.

This shall be done to the end that, as has been set forth above, the divine favor toward us, which we have experienced in such great affairs, may continue to prosper our successes together with the public happiness for all time. Moreover, in order that the form of this our benevolent ordinance may come to the knowledge of all, it will be fitting that these writings, published by your edict, be announced everywhere and brought to the knowledge of all, so that the ordinance of this our benevolence may not be hidden." When this letter had been published, he also urged by word of mouth that the meeting-places should be restored to their former condition. Thus from the overthrow of the Church to its restoration there were ten years and approximately four months.

But as Licinius advanced against him with his army, the tyrant fled and again sought the passes of Mount Taurus; having constructed fortifications and towers there, he attempted to block the way; and when the victors broke through everything to the right, he finally took refuge at Tarsus. There, when he was already being pressed by land and sea and hoped for no refuge, in anguish of mind and fear he fled to death as though to a remedy for the evils which God had heaped upon his head. But first he stuffed himself with food and gorged himself with wine, as those are wont to do who think they are about to do this last act. And so he drank poison. Its force, repelled by his full stomach, could not take effect at once, but turning into a grievous sickness resembling pestilence, it caused him to linger in torment with prolonged breath.

Already the poison had begun to rage within him; as its force made his vitals burn, he was driven to madness of mind by unbearable pain, to such a degree that, struck with frenzy for four days, he devoured earth scooped up in his hands as though he were hungry. Then after many and grievous torments, as he dashed his head against the walls, his eyes leaped from their sockets. Thereupon at last, having lost his sight, he began to see God with attendants in white garments judging him. He cried out therefore as those who are accustomed to be tortured do, and said that not he but others had done these things. Then, as though driven by torments to confess, he kept entreating Christ and weeping that he might have mercy upon him. Thus amid groans which he uttered as though he were being burned, he breathed out his guilty spirit in a manner of death worthy of detestation.

In this manner God overthrew all the persecutors of his name, so that neither stock nor any root of them remained. For Licinius, having obtained supreme power, first ordered Valerius to be killed—whom Maximinus in his anger had not dared to put to death even after his flight, when he saw that he himself was about to perish—and likewise Candidianus, whom Valeria had adopted on account of her barrenness, he being born of a concubine. The woman, however, when she learned that he was still alive, changed her dress and mingled with his retinue in order to watch over the fortunes of Candidianus; who, because he had presented himself at Nicomedia and appeared to be held in honor, suspecting nothing of the sort, was slain. And she, upon hearing of his end, immediately fled. Licinius likewise put to death by capital sentence Severianus, the son of Severus, already of robust age, who had followed Maximinus fleeing from the battle, on the ground that after his death he had been thinking of seizing the purple.

All these had long preferred to be with Maximinus rather than with Licinius, fearing him as an evil, except Valeria, who, being willing to cede to Licinius by her own right all the inheritances of Maximianus, had refused the same to Maximinus. He also put to death the son of Maximinus himself, then at most eight years of age, and his daughter of seven years, who had been betrothed to Candidianus. But first their mother was hurled headlong into the East. There she had often ordered chaste women to be drowned. Thus all the impious received by the true and just judgment of God the same things which they had done.

Valeria also, having wandered through various provinces for fifteen months in common dress, was at last recognized at Thessalonica, seized, and paid the penalty together with her mother. The women were therefore led to execution amid great spectacle and compassion for so great a calamity, and, their heads having been cut off, their bodies were cast into the sea. Thus their chastity and their condition were their destruction.

All these things I have thought fit to commit to writing faithfully—for I speak to one who knows—just as they came to pass, lest either the memory of such great events should perish, or if anyone wished to write a history, he should corrupt the truth by passing over in silence either their sins against God or the judgment of God against them. To his eternal goodness we ought to give thanks, who at last looked upon the earth, and deigned to restore and gather together his flock, which had been partly laid waste by ravening wolves and partly scattered, and to root out the evil beasts which had trampled down the pastures of the divine flock and scattered their resting-places. Where now are those magnificent and famous surnames of the Jovii and the Herculii, celebrated among the nations, which were first insolently assumed by Diocletian and Maximianus, and afterwards transferred to their successors, and then fell into contempt? Surely the Lord has blotted them out and erased them from the earth.

Let us therefore celebrate the triumph of God with exultation, let us celebrate the victory of the Lord with praises, let us celebrate it with prayers by day and by night; let us celebrate it, that he may confirm the peace given to his people after ten years for ever. Do you especially, dearest Donatus, who deserve to be heard by God, entreat the Lord that he may keep his mercy eternal upon his servants, gracious and gentle; that he may ward off from his people all the snares and assaults of the devil; that he may guard the flourishing Churches in perpetual peace.