cal facts, that there was always a mystical and hidden meaning which these were intended to convey. It is easy to perceive, that as this leaves room for the utmost latitude of conjecture with regard to these hidden mean igs, nothing could be more dangerous than the allowance of such mode of interpretation, and accordingly, it was productive innumerable errors and dissensions. Christianity, however, or the whole, made the most rapid progress in the third century A great part of the Gauls, of Germany and of Britain had now received the light of the Gospel.

In the fourth century, the Christian religion was alternately persecuted and cherished by the Roman emperors. Under Diocletian, there was, for many years, a most sanguinary persecution, which arose less from a spirit of cruelty in that emperor than from the easines of his temper in giving way to the persuasions of his son-in-lav Galerius, and the remonstrances of the heathen Driests.

The church, we have seen, was restored to tranquillity by the accession of C nstantine the Great, whose zeal for the propagaion of Christi ity, in the latter part of his reign, was as ardent -and, as sore have thought, as intemperate-as that of its enemies for its estruction. His three sons, Constantine, Constanlius, and C nstans, without the genius of their father, inherited his religios principles, and were active in the extirpation of paganism and the promotion of Christianity.

Wave seen how great was the reverse under the succeeding reign of Julian genius, learning, philosophic moderation, heroic valor on the one hand, superstitious credulity, bigotry, and hypocry on the other, composed this singularly inconsistent character. The methods, which he took to undermine the Christian religion, we have observed, were dictated by the most consuramate policy and artifice. His attempts to reform the pagan worship, and his depriving the Christians of the common privileges of citizens and of the benefit of the laws, were more fatal to the cause of religion than any other species of persecution. The succeeding emperors, Valentinian I., Valens, Gratian, and Valentinian II., contributed in a great degree to heal those wounds which Chris. tianity had suffered from the attacks of Julian; but it was reserved for Theodosius to put a final period to the pagan superstition in the Roman empire.

In the history of the human mind there are no events more deserving of attention than the rise and fall of popular superstitions. As the polytheism, which had so long maintained its authority over the Roman empire, came to a final period at the time of which we now treat, it is worth our while to bestow some consideration upon an event of that magnitude and importance. The structure of the pagan religion in the Roman empire was so interwoven with its political constitution, as to possess a very strong hold on the minds of the people.

From the age of Numa to the reign of Gratian, the Romans preserved the regular succession of the several colleges of the sacerdotal order. Fifteen pontiffs exercised supreme jurisdiction over all things and persons that were consecrated to the service of the gods, and determined all questions with regard to religion. Fifteen augurs observed the face of the heavens, and determined the success of the most important enterprises according to the flight of birds. Fifteen keepers of the Sibylline books consulted the records of future events. Six vestals guarded the sacred fire. Seven epulos prepared the table of the gods, conducted the solemn processions, and regulated the ceremonies of the annual festivals. The flamens of Jupiter, of Mars, and Quirinus were considered as the ministers of the tutelar gods of Rome. The king of the sacrifices represented the person of Numa and of his successors in the religious functions, which could be performed only by royal hands. The confraternities of the Salians and the Lupercals practised the most ridiculous rites, by way of recommending themselves to the favor of the gods. The authority which the Roman priests had formerly obtained in the councils of the republic was gradually weakened by the establishment of the imperial dignity, and by the removal of the seat of the empire; but the veneration of their sacred character was still protected by the laws and manners of their country, and they still continued, more especially the college of pontiffs, to exercise in the capital, and sometimes in the provinces, the rights of their ecclesiastical and civil jurisdiction. They received from the public revenue an ample salary, which liberally supplied the splendor of the priesthood, and the expenses of the religious worship of the state; as the service of the altar was not incompatible with the command of armies, the offices of pontiff or of augur were aspired to by the most illustrious of the Romans. Cicero, as well as Pliny, acknowledge that the office of augur was the height of their ambition. Even the Christian emperors did not refuse this ancient office of the highest dignity, but accepted, like their predecessors, of the robe and ensigns of Pontifex maximus. Gratian was the first who rejected those profane insignia. He applied to the service of the state or of the church the revenues of the priests and vestals, abolished their honors and immunities, and thus undermined the ancient fabric of Roman_superstition, which had subsisted for eleven hundred years. Paganism was still, however, the constitutional religion of the senate. The temple in which they assembled was adorned by the statue and altar of Victorya majestic female standing on a globe, with flowing garments, expanded wings, and in her hand a crown of laurel. The senators continued to take their solemn initiatory oaths upon the altar of the goddess, till this ancient monument was removed from its

* Gibbon's Roman History, ch. 28

pedestal by the emperor Constantius. Julian had restored the altar of Victory; and Gratian once more abolished it, though he spared the public statues of the gods which were in the temples of the city. In the time of Theodosius, a majority of the senate voted an application to the emperor to restore the altar and statue of Victory; and the cause of paganism was artfully and eloquently pleaded by the senator Symmachus, as that of Christianity by the celebrated Ambrose, archbishop of Milan.

The dispute was managed on both sides with great ability. The argument of Symmachus was certainly the best that could be brought in support of his cause; he balances the certain effects of an adherence to ancient customs with the uncertain consequences of innovation. If, says he, the past ages of the Roman state have been crowned with glory and prosperity-if the devout people have obtained the blessings they solicited at the altars of the gods-is it not advisable to persevere in the same salutary practices, rather than risk the unknown dangers that may attend rash innovations? The reasoning was plausible. But the arguments of Ambrose had a more solid foundation; he exposed the futility of that blind and indolent maxim that all innovations are dangerous; he reprobated that absurd veneration for antiquity, which would not only maintain mankind in childhood and ignorance, but discourage every improvement of science, and replunge the human race into their original barbarism. After removing that veil which shut out the light, he displayed the beauty and excellence of the Christian system, and finally prevailed, to the conviction of the senators, against the able advocate of paganism. In a full meeting of that order, the question was solemnly proposed by Theodosius, whether the worship of Jesus Christ or of Jupiter should be the religion of the Romans. Jupiter was degraded and condemned by a large majority. The decrees of the senate, which proscribed the worship of idols, were ratified by the general consent of the people. The citizens flocked to the churches to receive the sacrament of baptism, and the temples of the pagan deities were abandoned to ruin and contempt.

The downfall of paganism in the capital was soon followed by its extirpation in the provinces. Theodosius began by prohibiting sacrifices; and lest the temples should incite to the celebration of ancient ceremonies, he ordered them to be shut. But the zeal of the bishops and fathers of the church exceeded their commission: they marched at the head of numerous bands of their new proselytes, and determined to abolish every remnant of idolatry by levelling the temples with the ground. Happily, the skill and solidity with which many of those ancient buildings had been constructed preserved them from absolute ruin; a few likewise were saved by being converted into Christian churches. The temple of Serapis, at Alexandria, in a part of which was the celebrated library of the Ptolemies, was one of the most magnificent structures of the East.

Theophilus, the bishop of Alexandria, had determined its downfall. The priests took arms in defence of their god, but were finally overpowered by the strength of numbers; the temple was ransacked, the library pillaged and destroyed, and the awful statue. of the god himself underwent the general fate. The catastrophe of Serapis is eloquently described by Gibbon. A great number of plates of different metals, artificially joined together, composed the majestic figure of the deity, who touched on either side the walls of the sanctuary. The aspect of Serapis, his sitting posture, and the sceptre which he bore in his left hand, were extremely similar to the ordinary representations of Jupiter. It was confidently reported, that if any impious hand should dare to violate the majesty of the god, the heavens and the earth would instantly return to their original chaos. An intrepid soldier, animated by zeal, and armed with a weighty battle-axe, ascended the ladderand even the Christian multitude expected with some anxiety the event of the combat. He aimed a vigorous stroke against the cheek of Serapis; the cheek fell to the ground; the thunder was still silent, and both the heavens and the earth continued to preserve their accustomed order and tranquillity. The victorious soldier repeated his blows; the huge idol was overthrown and broken in pieces, and the limbs of Serapis were ignominiously dragged through the streets of Alexandria. His mangled carcass was burnt in the amphitheatre, amid the shouts of the populace; and many persons attributed their conversion to this discovery of the impotence of the tutelar deity. After the fall of Serapis, some hopes were entertained by the pagans that the indignation of the gods would be expressed by the refusal of the Nile's annual inundation; but the waters began to swell with most unusual rapidity. They now comforted themselves that the same indignation was to be expressed by a deluge; but were mortified to find at last that the inundation brought with it no other than its usual salutary and fertilizing effects.*

Theodosius was too good a politician to adopt a persecuting system. The temples, it is true, were shut up, sacrifices prohibited, and idols destroyed; but still the ancient opinions were entertained and tolerated: no universal conformity was requisite, and the civil and military honors of the empire were bestowed. without distinction on Christians and on pagans. The utmost freedom was allowed in speech and in writing on the subject of religion, as is evident by what remains of the works of Zozimus, Eunapius, and other teachers of the Platonic school, who attacked Christianity with the utmost virulence. There was great wisdom in this conduct of Theodosius. Paganism fell by a rapid, yet by

The Egyptians remarked, that when the Nile did not rise to the height of 12 cubits, a famine was generally the consequence-as was likewise the case when it rose above 16 cubits. The register of the river was a well within the temple of Serapis, at Memphis.

a gentle decline; and twenty-eight years after the death of Theodosius, the vestiges of the ancient religion were scarcely discernible in the Roman empire.

A superstition, in many respects as absurd and irrational, began to pollute the Christian church in those ages, and still continues to maintain a very extensive influence. This was the worship of saints and relics. At Rome, the bones of St. Peter and St. Paul -or rather what they believed to be such-were removed from their graves one hundred and fifty years after their death, and deposited in magnificent shrines. In the following ages, Constantinople, which could boast no treasures of that kind within her own walls, had recourse to the provinces, and acquired from them the supposed bodies of St. Andrew, St. Luke, and St. Timothy, after these had been dead for three hundred years. But these sacred treasures were appropriated solely to the churches of the capitals of the empire; other cities and their churches borrowed portions of these older relics; and where they had not interest to procure these, their priests had dexterity to discover relics of their own. The possession of these bones was found to conduce very much to the acquisition of more substantial treasures. It was easy to find skeletons, and to give them names; but it was necessary to prove their authenticity and virtue, by making these bones perform miracles. Artifice and roguery had a powerful assistant here in popular credulity; and even natural events, when ascribed to the mediation of saints and martyrs, became proofs of their divine and supernatural power. It was easier for the vulgar mind to approach in prayer the image, or simply the idea of a holy man-one who had been on earth subject to like passions with themselves-than to raise their imaginations to the tremendous and incomprehensible nature of the Supreme Power: hence the prayers to saints, and the peculiar devotion to one out of many, as he to whom most frequent court was paid, would be naturally held to take the greatest interest in the welfare of his

votary.

As the objects of religion were become more familiar to the imagination, it was not wonderful that such rites and ceremonies should be introduced as were best fitted to affect the senses of the vulzar. The pompous pageantry of the pagan superstition was soon rivalled by that of the Christian; and as the polytheism of the former found a parallel in the numerous train of saints and martyrs of the latter, the superstitions and absurd ceremonies of both came very soon to have a near resemblance.

The attachment to the pagan systems of philosophy, particu larly the Platonic, which found its votaries among many of the Christian doctors at this period, led to a variety of innovations in point of doctrine, which in a little time acquired so deep a root as to be considered as essential parts of the Christian system. Such, for example, was the notion of an intermediate state, in which the