armed and prepared, if his friendship should be rejected, to
dispute, in a field of battle, the empire of the world. An
immediate and peremptory answer was required; but it was
extremely difficult for Theodosius to satisfy, on this important
occasion, either the feelings of his own mind, or the
expectations of the public. The imperious voice of honor and
gratitude called aloud for revenge. From the liberality of
Gratian, he had received the Imperial diadem; his patience would
encourage the odious suspicion, that he was more deeply sensible
of former injuries, than of recent obligations; and if he
accepted the friendship, he must seem to share the guilt, of the
assassin. Even the principles of justice, and the interest of
society, would receive a fatal blow from the impunity of Maximus;
and the example of successful usurpation would tend to dissolve
the artificial fabric of government, and once more to replunge
the empire in the crimes and calamities of the preceding age.
But, as the sentiments of gratitude and honor should invariably
regulate the conduct of an individual, they may be overbalanced
in the mind of a sovereign, by the sense of superior duties; and
the maxims both of justice and humanity must permit the escape of
an atrocious criminal, if an innocent people would be involved in
the consequences of his punishment. The assassin of Gratian had
usurped, but he actually possessed, the most warlike provinces of
the empire: the East was exhausted by the misfortunes, and even
by the success, of the Gothic war; and it was seriously to be
apprehended, that, after the vital strength of the republic had
been wasted in a doubtful and destructive contest, the feeble
conqueror would remain an easy prey to the Barbarians of the
North. These weighty considerations engaged Theodosius to
dissemble his resentment, and to accept the alliance of the