Constantius placed himself at the head of a veteran army, and pursued the barbarians with such vigor as to compel them to drop many of their captives and much of their plunder, and to retreat in confusion to their forest-glades. He then turned his legions towards the east, and hurried along by forced marches towards the River Euphrates. Here a barbarian chieftain, called Sapor, was ravaging Mesopotamia with an army of a hundred thousand savage men from the wilds of Tartary.
The Roman emperor was prosecuting with great vigor this arduous campaign, when he heard the tidings of a revolt in Gaul, and that the army there had proclaimed its general as emperor. Burning with rage, he commenced a rapid march with his legions towards the west, when he was seized with violent sickness which arrested his steps. While languishing on a bed of pain, with the sceptre of imperial power crumbling in his hands, and death staring him in the face, the sins of his life rose appallingly before him. It soon became manifest that his earthly career was drawing to a close.
Constantius had been politically in favor of Christianity as the religion of the State. He regarded the pagan party as his political enemy. Destitute himself of the spirit of Christianity, he commenced the unrelenting persecution of his pagan adversaries, confiscating their property, and sending them to the rack, the dungeon, and the stake.
It is remarkable all through history, how, under the government of God, there seems to be developed a system of retribution. We ever meet that principle in the biography of individuals, and in the vicissitudes of nations. The pagans had persecuted the Christians with cruelty which demons could not have surpassed; and now God allowed a bad man, a Christian in name only, to torture the pagans with the same weapons which they had so pitilessly wielded. It is a fact, which every Christian will read with pleasure, that the true disciples of Jesus remonstrated against this retaliation. Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, earnestly expostulating, wrote,—
“When men resort to persecution, it is evident that they want confidence in their own faith. Satan, because there isno truth in him, pays away with hatchet and sword. The Saviour is so gentle, that he only says, ‘Whosoever will, let him be my disciple.’ He forces none. He knocks at the door of the soul, and says, ‘Open to me, my sister.’ If the door is opened, he goes in. It is the character of true piety not to force, but to convince.”
The emperor was influenced by political considerations only. He regarded the pagan party simply as his antagonists, who sought his overthrow that they might grasp the reins of power. In co-operation with his court, he ordered the demolition of their temples, and directed all the energies of fire and sword to the demolition of the idolaters. Thus the flames of persecution, which once consumed the Christians, now blazed almost as fiercely in wrapping the pagans in their fiery folds.
Such was the condition of the world towards the close of the fourth century. Christianity had undermined all the temples of idolatry, and was enthroned as the established religion of the Roman empire. Ambitious men rallied about it as a great political power. Wicked men nominally embraced it as an essential step to worldly advancement. Christianity had thus, perhaps, more to fear from favoritism than from persecution. Unprincipled men, grasping at wealth and power, embraced Christianity merely as an instrument for the promotion of their own temporal aggrandizement. They hated its spiritual teachings, and endeavored to make it a religion of dead doctrines and of pompous ceremonies, rather than a rule to govern heart and life. They crucified Christianity while crowning it.
Lured by hopes of court favor and preferment, many who were still in heart pagans had hypocritically professed Christianity. Corruption thus crept into the Church. To conciliate the ignorant idolatrous populace, and to lure them into the Christian churches, the pomp and pageantry of pagan rites were introduced to supplant the unostentatious and simple ordinances of the gospel. Hence the origin of those theatric shows which are still the prominent features in the worship of the Church at Rome.
The death-bed of Constantius was that of an awakened and despairing sinner. He had been a wicked man. He had known his duty; for he had enjoyed the teachings of a Christian father. He had also heard the faithful preaching of the gospel.
Death brings all to the same level: the emperor and his humblest slave are upon an equality in that dread hour. As one reads the record of the remorse of the dying Constantius, he may say,—