bers, were to take fire-for a considerable space of time the fire would be retarded by the mere enormity of extent which it would have to traverse. But there would come at length a critical moment, at which the maximum of the retarding effect having been attained, the bulk and volume of the flaming mass would thenceforward assist the flames in the rapidity of their progress. Such was the effect upon the declension of the Roman Empire from the vast extent of its territory. For a very long period that very extent, which finally became the overwhelming cause of its ruin, served to retard and to disguise it. A small encroachment, made at any one point upon the integrity of the Empire, was neither much regarded at Rome, nor perhaps in and for itself much deserved to be regarded. But a very narrow belt of encroachments, made upon almost every part of so enormous a circumference, was sufficient of itself to compose something of an antagonist force. And to these external dilapidations, we must add the far more important dilapidations from within, affecting all the institutions of the State, and all the forces, whether moral or political, which had originally raised it or maintained it. Causes which had been latent in the public arrangements ever since the time of Augustus, and had been silently preying upon its vitals, had now reached a height which would no longer brook concealment. The fire which had smouldered through generations had broken out at length into an open conflagration. Uproar and disorder, and the anarchy of a superannuated empire, strong only to punish and impotent to defend, were at this time convulsing the provinces in every point of the compass. Rome herself had been menaced repeatedly. And a still more awful indication of the coming storm had been felt far to the south of Rome. One long wave of the great German_ deluge had stretched beyond the Pyrenees and the pillars of Hercules, to the very soil of ancient Carthage. Victorious banners were already floating on the margin of the Great Desert, and they were not the banners of Cæsar. Some vigorous hand was demanded at this moment, or else the funeral knell of

Rome was on the point of sounding. Indeed, there is every reason to believe that, had the imbecile Carinus (the brother of Numerian) succeeded to the command of the Roman. armies at this time, or any other than Dioclesian, the Empire of the West would have fallen to pieces within the next ten years.

Dioclesian was doubtless that man of iron whom the times demanded; and a foreign writer has gone so far as to class him amongst the greatest of men, if he were not even himself the greatest. But the position of Dioclesian was remarkable beyond all precedent, and was alone sufficient to prevent his being the greatest of men, by making it necessary that he should be the most selfish. For the case stood thus: If Rome were in danger, much more so was Cæsar. If the condition of the Empire were such that hardly any energy or any foresight was adequate to its defence, for the Emperor, on the other hand, there was scarcely a possibility that he should escape destruction. The chances were in an overbalance against the Empire; but for the Emperor there was no chance at all. He shared in all the hazards of the Empire; and had others so peculiarly pointed at himself, that his assassination was now become as much a matter of certain calculation, as seed-time or harvest, summer or winter, or any other revolution of the seasons. The problem, therefore, for Dioclesian was a double one, so to provide for the defence and maintenance of the Empire, as simultaneously (and, if possible, through the very same institution) to provide for the personal security of Cæsar. This problem he solved, in some imperfect degree, by the only expedient perhaps open to him in that despotism, and in those times. But it is remarkable, that, by the revolution which he effected, the office of Roman Imperator was completely altered, and Cæsar became henceforwards an Oriental Sultan or Padishah. Augustus, when moulding for his future purposes the form and constitution of that supremacy which he had obtained by inheritance and by arms, proceeded with so much caution and prudence, that even the

Hence it was, and from this original precedent of Augustus, aided by the constitution which he had given to the office of Imperator, that up to the era of Dioclesian, no prince had dared utterly to neglect the Senate, or the people of Rome. He might hate the Senate, like Severus, or Aurelian; he might even meditate their extermination, like the brutal Maximin. But this arose from any cause rather than from contempt. He hated them precisely because he feared them, or because he paid them an involuntary tribute of superstitious reverence, or because the malice of a tyrant interpreted into a sort of treason the rival influence of the Senate over the minds of men. But, before Dioclesian, the undervaluing of the Senate, or the harshest treatment of that body, had arisen from views which were personal to the individual Cæsar. It was now made to arise from the very constitution of the office, and the mode of the appointment. To defend the Empire, it was the opinion of Dioclesian that a single Emperor was not sufficient. And it struck him, at the same time, that, by the very institution of a plurality of Emperors, which was now destined to secure the integrity of the Empire, ample provision might be made for the personal security of each Emperor. He carried his plan into immediate execution, by appointing an associate to his own rank of Augustus in the person of Maximian-an experienced general; whilst each of them in effect multiplied his own office still farther by severally appointing a Cæsar, or hereditary prince. And thus the very same partition of the public authority, by means of a duality of Emperors, to which the Senate had often resorted of late, as the best means of restoring their own republican aristocracy, was now adopted by Dioclesian as the simplest engine for overthrowing finally the power of either Senate or army to interfere with the elective privilege. This he endeavoured to centre in the exist ing Emperors; and, at the same moment, to discourage treason or usurpation generally, whether in the party choosing or the party chosen, by securing to each Emperor, in the case of his own assassination, an avenger in the person of his survi

ving associate, as also in the persons of the two Cæsars, or adopted heirs and lieutenants. The associate Emperor, Maximian, together with the two Cæsars-Galerius appointed by himself, and Constantius Chlorus by Maximian, were all bound to himself by ties of gratitude; all owing their stations ultimately to his own favour. And these ties he endeavoured to strengthen by other ties of affinity; each of the Augusti having given his daughter in marriage to his own adopted Cæsar. And thus it seemed scarcely possible that a usurpation should be successful against so firm a league of friends and relations.

The direct purposes of Dioclesian were but imperfectly attained; the internal peace of the Empire lasted only during his own reign; and with his abdication of the Empire commenced the bloodiest civil wars which had desolated the world since the contests of the great Triumvirate. But the collateral blow, which he meditated against the authority of the Senate, was entirely successful. Never again had the Senate any real influence on the fate of the world. And with the power of the Senate expired concurrently the weight and influence of Rome. Dioclesian is supposed never to have seen Rome, except on the single occasion when he entered it for the ceremonial purpose of a triumph. Even for that purpose it ceased to be a city of resort; for Dioclesian's was the final triumph. And, lastly, even as the chief city of the Empire for business or for pleasure, it ceased to claim the homage of mankind; the Cæsar was already born whose destiny it was to cashier the metropolis of the world, and to appoint her successor. This also may be regarded in effect as the ordinance of Dioclesian; for he, by his long residence at Nicomedia, expressed his opinion pretty plainly, that Rome was not central enough to perform the functions of a capital to so vast an empire; that this was one cause of the declension now become so visible in the forces of the state; and that some city, not very far from the Hellespont or the Egean Sea, would be a capital better adapted by position to the exigencies of the times.

But the revolutions effected by

Dioclesian did not stop here. The simplicity of its republican origin had so far affected the external character and expression of the Imperial office, that in the midst of luxury the most unbounded, and spite of all other corruptions, a majestic plainness of manners, deportment, and dress, had still continued from generation to generation, characteristic of the Roman Imperator in his intercourse with his subjects. All this was now changed; and for the Roman was substituted the Persian dress, the Persian style of household, a Persian court, and Persian manners. A diadem, or tiara beset with pearls, now encircled the temples of the Roman Augustus; his sandals were studded with pearls, as in the Persian court; and the other parts of his dress were in harmony with these. The prince was instructed no longer to make himself familiar to the eyes of men. He sequestered himself from his subjects in the recesses of his palace. None, who sought him, could any longer gain easy admission to his presence. It was a point of his new duties to be difficult of access; and they who were at length admitted to an audience, found him surrounded by eunuchs, and were expected to make their approaches by genuflexions, by servile adorations," and by real acts of worship as to a visible god.

It is strange that a ritual of court ceremonies, so elaborate and artificial as this, should first have been introduced by a soldier, and a warlike

soldier like Dioclesian. This, however, is in part explained by his education and long residence in Eastern countries. But the same Eastern training fell to the lot of Constantine, who was in effect his successor; and the Oriental tone and standard established by these two Emperors, though disturbed a little by the plain and military bearing of Julian, and one or two more Emperors of the same breeding, finally reestablished itself with undisputed sway in the Byzantine court.

Meantime the institutions of Dioclesian, if they had destroyed Rome and the Senate as influences upon the course of public affairs, and if they had destroyed the Roman features of the Cæsars, do notwithstanding appear to have attained one of their purposes, in limiting the extent of imperial murders. Travelling through the brief list of the remaining Caesars, we perceive a little more security for life; and hence the successions are less rapid. Constantine, who (like Aaron's rod) had swallowed up all his competitors seriatim, left the empire to his three sons; and the last of these most unwillingly to Julian. That prince's Persian expedition, so much resembling in rashness and presumption the Russian campaign of Napoleon, though so much below it in the scale of its tragic results, led to the short reign of Jovian (or Jovinian), which lasted only seven months. Upon his death succeeded the house of Valentinian,† in whose descendant, of the third generation,

stantine.

the Empire, properly speaking, expired. For the seven shadows who succeeded, from Avitus and Majorian to Julius Nepos and Romulus Augustulus, were in no proper sense Roman Emperors, they were not even Emperors of the West,-but had a limited kingdom in the Italian peninsula. Valentinian the Third was, as we have said, the last Emperor of the West.

But in a fuller and ampler sense, recurring to what we have said of Dioclesian and the tenor of his great revolutions, we may affirm that Probus and Carus were the final representatives of the majesty of Rome; for they reigned over the whole Empire, not yet incapable of sustaining its own unity; and in them were still preserved, not yet obliterated by Oriental effeminacy,those majestic features which reflected republican Consuls -and through them, the Senate and People of Rome. That, which had offended Dioclesian in the condition of the Roman Emperors, was the grandest feature of their dignity. It is true that the peril of the office had become intolerable: each Cæsar submitted to his sad inauguration with a certainty, liable even to hardly any disguise from the delusions of youthful hope, that for him, within the boundless empire which he governed, there was no coast of safety-no shelter from the storm-no retreat, except the grave, from the dagger of the assassin. Gibbon has described the hopeless condition of one who should attempt to fly from the wrath of the almost omnipresent Emperor. But this dire impossibility of escape was in the end dreadfully retaliated upon the Emperor: persecutors and traitors were found everywhere: and the vindictive or the ambitious subject found himself as omnipresent as the jealous or the offended

Emperor. The crown of the Cæsars was therefore a crown of thorns: and it must be admitted, that never in this world have rank and power been purchased at so awful a cost in tranquillity and peace of mind. The steps of Cæsar's throne were absolutely saturated with the blood of those who had possessed it: and so inexorable was that murderous fate which overhung that gloomy eminence, that at length it demanded the spirit of martyrdom in him who ventured to ascend it. In these circumstances, some change was imperatively demanded. Human nature was no longer equal to the terrors which it was summoned to face. But the changes of Dioclesian transmuted that golden sceptre into a base Oriental alloy. They left nothing behind of what had so much challenged the veneration of man: for it was in the union of republican simplicity with the irresponsibility of illimitable power, it was in the antagonism between the merely human and approachable condition of Cæsar as a man, and his divine supremacy as a potentate and King of kings-that the secret lay of his unrivalled grandeur. This perished utterly under the reforming hands of Dioclesian. Cæsar only it was that could be permitted to extinguish Cæsar: and a Roman Imperator it was who, by remodelling, did in effect abolish, by exorcising from its foul terrors, did in effect disenchant of its sanctity, that Imperatorial dignity, which having once perished could have no second existence, and which was undoubtedly the sublimest incarnation of power, and a monument the mightiest of greatness built by human hands, which upon this planet has been suffered to appear.