revisit the earth, the stern republican would abjure, at the feet of
Theodosius, his hatred of kings; and ingenuously confess, that such a
monarch was the most faithful guardian of the happiness and dignity of
the Roman people.

Yet the piercing eye of the founder of the republic must have
discerned two essential imperfections, which might, perhaps, have
abated his recent love of despotism. The virtuous mind of Theodosius
was often relaxed by indolence, and it was sometimes inflamed by
passion. In the pursuit of an important object, his active courage was
capable of the most vigorous exertions; but, as soon as the design was
accomplished, or the danger was surmounted, the hero sunk into
inglorious repose; and, forgetful that the time of a prince is the
property of his people, resigned himself to the enjoyment of the
innocent, but trifling, pleasures of a luxurious court. The natural
disposition of Theodosius was hasty and choleric; and, in a station
where none could resist, and few would dissuade, the fatal consequence
of his resentment, the humane monarch was justly alarmed by the
consciousness of his infirmity and of his power. It was the constant
study of his life to suppress, or regulate, the intemperate sallies of
passion and the success of his efforts enhanced the merit of his
clemency. But the painful virtue which claims the merit of victory, is
exposed to the danger of defeat; and the reign of a wise and merciful
prince was polluted by an act of cruelty which would stain the annals
of Nero or Domitian. Within the space of three years, the inconsistent
historian of Theodosius must relate the generous pardon of the
citizens of Antioch, and the inhuman massacre of the people of
Thessalonica.

The lively impatience of the inhabitants of Antioch was never