But Maximin was not to be trifled with. Raging like a wild beast, and gnashing his teeth with fury, he put his army on a rapid march for Africa. In one bloody battle the troops of Gordian were almost annihilated. The son was slain in battle: the father in despair committed suicide.
The senate in Rome, detesting Maximin, the brutal barbarian monster, had ventured to espouse the cause of Gordian. The maddened Maximin turned his march towards Rome. The powerless senate was in utter dismay. Not only confiscation and death awaited them and their families, but death in its most cruel form. The whole city was agitated with terror.
There was every reason to fear that the barbarian, with his demoniac soldiery, marching beneath the blood-red banner of plunder and slaughter, would put the inhabitants to the sword, and commit the city to the flames. It was the customary vengeance for conquerors in those days to burn every dwelling of their foes, and to put every man, woman, and child to death, excepting a few of the young and beautiful, who were reserved to groom their horses, and to fill their harems.
The senate, in terror, made desperate efforts to meet the emergency. The populace of Rome were aware of their danger. A new army was very quickly raised. Two emperors were chosen: one, a wealthy Roman noble, by the name of Balbinus, was to remain at Rome, and attend to the civil administration there; the other, Maximus, a brave and veteran soldier, was placed in command of the army, which consisted of the Pretorian Guard of sixteen thousand men, encamped just outside the walls of Rome, and such recruits as could be added to them.
Maximin, almost literally roaring with rage, was pressing forward by forced marches. Plunder, slaughter, and smouldering ruins, marked his path. He had crossed the Julian Alps. The wretched inhabitants fled before him. But at length his atrocities created a mutiny among his own soldiers. A fiendlike band rushed into his tent, pierced him through and through with their javelins, cut off his head, and, with derision and insult, paraded it on a pike through the camp.
All Rome rang with shouts of joy, and blazed with illuminations, when it was reported that the tyrant was dead. But anarchy ensued. The soldiery, composed principally of the most desperate vagabonds of the city, were not disposed toaccept an emperor elected by the senate. Conscious of their power, they resolved to place one of their own favorites upon the imperial throne.
In a resistless, organized mob, they strode into the city in solid battalions, battered down the doors of the palace where the two emperors were in council, pierced them with a thousand spears, dragged their mangled bodies, by ropes tied to their heels, with hideous yells through the streets, and threw the gory remains into a ditch, to be devoured by dogs. In six months, five Roman emperors had thus perished by violence. Think how vast the change which the teachings of Jesus have introduced, refining manners, giving laws, purifying morals!
When we reflect upon such scenes, it is impossible to deny that the teachings of Jesus have wrought the most astonishing and salutary changes in the world. It is not too much to say, that pagan Rome in its palmiest days was far below Christian Rome in its greatest degeneracy. Christianity has introduced refinement of manners, more equitable laws, and morals immeasurably superior to any thing which existed around the shrines of idolatry. And yet these are only the incidental blessings, over and above the salvation of the souls of those who became spiritually the disciples of Jesus, accepted him as their Saviour, and who brought their hearts and lives into sympathy with his teachings. There were millions of such, who are now in the realms of glory, of whom history made no record.
The soldiers took a boy thirteen years of age, and, bearing him triumphantly to the camp, jocosely made him emperor. The senate, with sixteen thousand swords at its throat, was compelled to ratify their choice. Soon, however, an ambitious general, named Philip, poisoned the boy, and induced the soldiers to proclaim himself emperor.
It is said that this Philip had once professed Christianity, but, having yielded to the temptations which surrounded him, had been excluded from the Church for his crimes. He had an enlightened conscience; but his Christian character, as inmany other cases, fell a sacrifice to his ambition. He was a weak man. Though he did not directly persecute the Christians, he did not venture to protect them. His reign was short,—only five years.