Even pagan Rome could not long submit to so unmitigated a wretch. There was mutiny in the camp. Elagabalus was cut down in the fray. A mob of soldiers, with infuriate yells, dragged the corpse by the heels through the streets, and cast the mangled, gory mass into the Tiber. The senate passed a decree consigning his name to eternal infamy. Posterity has ratified that decree.
There are those, it is said, who believe that there is no punishment after death; that all the dead go at once to heaven. Strange must be the philosophy, and stranger still the theology, which can contemplate Elagabalus welcomed at the golden gates, angels crowding to meet him, while God, with beaming countenance, exclaims, “Well done, good and faithful servant! enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”
The Pretorian Guard of sixteen thousand mailed and veteran soldiers, whose encampment was just outside the walls of Rome, took a nephew of Elagabalus,—Alexander Severus, a boy of but seventeen years of age,—and made him emperor. Two reasons influenced them: first, he was available; second, he was young, and they thought they could mould him at their will.
And now again we get a gleam of Christian light upon this dark scene,—a gleam of that Christian influence which ennobles statesmanship, purifies morals, and promotes every virtue;that sublime Christian principle, which requires, that whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do, we do all to the glory of God.
The mother of young Alexander was a Christian. Never was the maxim more beautifully illustrated, that blessed is the boy who has a pious mother. This noble woman, notwithstanding all the unspeakable corruptions which surrounded her, had trained her child in the faith and morals of Jesus. Like a guardian angel, she had watched over her son amidst all the temptations of the palace.
Alexander, upon ascending the throne, in the very palace where Elagabalus had so recently practised his pagan orgies, habitually rose at an early hour, and upon his bended knees implored God’s guidance. He then held a cabinet council, aided by sixteen of the most virtuous senators. The affairs of state were carefully discussed, efforts being made to redress every wrong.
A few hours were then set apart for study, that he might, by intellectual culture, be better prepared for his responsible situation. He then practised for a time at the gymnasium for the promotion of his bodily vigor. After lunch, he received petitions and dictated replies till supper, at six, which was the principal meal of the day. Guests of distinction were always invited to sup with him. His table was frugal, his dress simple, his morals were pure, his manners polished and courtly. He adopted for his motto the golden maxim of Jesus our Lord:“As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.”[172] It was then fresh and new. Few even of those who admired the sentiment knew that it was Jesus who had given it its emphatic announcement.
When Severus appointed a governor of a province, he first publicly propounded his name, that, if there were any disqualification, it might be mentioned. “It is thus,” he said, “the Christians appoint their pastors: I will do the same with my representatives.”
And yet, strange as it may seem, Alexander Severus doesnot seem to have been a true Christian. He was simply like many upright, high-minded, honorable young men now, who assent to Christianity, are measurably governed by its morals, but are not in heart disciples of Jesus.
Alexander was deficient in moral courage: he wished to compromise. While he professed belief in Jesus, he professed also belief in the Roman gods. He wished to build a temple in Rome, to be dedicated to Jesus Christ, for Christian worship; but the oracles told him, that, if he did this, everybody would become Christian, and the temples of the gods would be abandoned. He therefore desisted. Still, throughout his reign, Christians were protected so far as he could protect them; but, in remote sections of the empire, Christians often suffered terribly from the malice of pagan magistrates, and from the brutality of the mob.