Cyprian & Lactantius · a new plain-English translation from the original language
Among the other measures we constantly arrange for the good and advantage of the state, we had previously wished, in accordance with the ancient laws and the public discipline of the Romans, to set everything right, and to see to it that the Christians too, who had abandoned the practice of their forefathers, should return to sound thinking, since somehow such a resolve had seized these same Christians and such folly had taken hold of them that they no longer followed those institutions of the ancients which their own forefathers had perhaps first established, but instead, according to their own judgment and as it pleased them, made for themselves the laws they observed, and gathered together various peoples in different groups. Accordingly, when an order of ours to this effect had been issued, that they should betake themselves back to the institutions of old, many were subjected to danger, and many indeed were struck down. And since a great many persisted in their resolve, and we saw that they neither offered to the gods the worship and reverence due, nor observed the god of the Christians, taking into account our own most gentle clemency, and considering our perpetual custom by which we are accustomed to extend pardon to all men, we judged that our most ready indulgence should be extended to them as well, so that they may again be Christians and reassemble their meeting-places, provided they do nothing contrary to public order.
This edict was published at Nicomedia on the day before the Kalends of May, in the eighth consulship of the same emperor and the second of Maximinus. Then, dearest Donatus, when the prisons were opened, you were freed from custody along with the rest of the confessors, though the prison had been your home for six years. Yet God granted him no pardon for that crime: only a few days afterward, once he had placed his wife and his son into Licinius's keeping and handed them over, with the limbs of his whole body already dissolving, a ghastly wasting disease consumed him — word of this reached Nicomedia within that same month, just as the twentieth anniversary of his reign drew near at the approaching Kalends of March.
When Maximinus heard this news, he sped from the East by relays of couriers, in order to seize the provinces and, while Licinius delayed, to claim for himself everything as far as the strait of Chalcedon; and entering Bithynia, so as to win favor for the moment, he remitted the tax to the great joy of all. Discord arose between the two emperors, and war nearly broke out. They held the opposite banks under arms, but peace and friendship were arranged on fixed terms, and a treaty was made on the very strait, and their right hands were joined. He returned unthreatened, and became again what he had been in Syria and in Egypt. First of all, he withdrew the indulgence granted to the Christians under a general edict, having suborned deputations from the cities to petition that the Christians not be permitted to build meeting-places within their towns, so that he might seem to have been compelled and driven by their persuasion to do what he was in fact going to do of his own accord. Granting their request, in an unprecedented fashion he appointed in each city a chief priest chosen from among the leading men, who would daily offer sacrifices to all their gods and, relying on the service of the old priests, would see to it that the Christians neither built meeting-places nor assembled publicly or privately, but would arrest them and by their own authority compel them to sacrifice or hand them over to the judges. Nor was this enough for him, unless he also set over the provinces individual men of higher rank, as it were high priests, and he ordered both classes to go about arrayed in white cloaks. He was, moreover, preparing to do what he had already long since done in the regions of the East. For while professing clemency in appearance, he forbade that the servants of God be killed, but ordered that they be maimed. And so confessors had their eyes gouged out, their hands cut off, their feet amputated, their noses or ears sliced away.
While he was contriving these things, he was deterred by a letter from Constantine. He therefore concealed his intent — yet if anyone fell into his hands, such men were secretly drowned at sea. Nor did he abandon his habit of having sacrifice offered daily in the palace. And he was the first to devise this: that all the animals he ate should be slaughtered at the altars not by cooks but by priests, and that nothing whatsoever should be set on his table unless it had first been offered, sacrificed, or sprinkled with wine, so that whoever was invited to dine there left defiled and unclean from it. In other respects too he resembled his master. For whatever Diocles or Maximian had left behind, he scraped up without any shame, carrying off everything. And so the granaries of private persons were shut up, storehouses were sealed, and debts for years to come were exacted in advance. From this came famine even though the fields were bearing crops; from this an unheard-of dearness of goods. Herds of cattle and flocks were seized from the fields for the daily sacrifices, by which he had so corrupted his own men that they came to despise the ordinary ration. And he squandered without discrimination and without measure, since he loaded down all his attendants, whose number was immense, with costly garments and gold coin, handed out silver among the ordinary troops and new recruits, and showered every sort of largesse on the barbarians to win them over. As for what he either took from the living or gave away as a gift to his own men whenever someone asked for another's property, I hardly know whether I should call it a matter for thanks, seeing that, in the manner of merciful bandits, he stripped his spoils without bloodshed.
But this was the capital vice, surpassing all who ever lived: his lust for corrupting others! I do not know what to call it except blind and unbridled, and yet no words, however indignant, can adequately express the matter: the enormity of the crime outstrips the power of speech. Eunuchs and procurers searched out everything. Wherever a face was more than commonly attractive, fathers and husbands had to withdraw. The garments of noble women, and likewise of virgins, were pulled off, and every limb of their bodies was inspected, lest any part of the body be unworthy of the royal bed. If any woman refused, she was drowned in water, as though under this adulterous ruler chastity were itself a capital crime against his majesty. Some men, when their wives had been violated — wives whom they held most dear for their chastity and fidelity — unable to bear the grief, took their own lives as well. Under this monster no woman's purity remained intact, except where some notable deformity kept off his barbarous lust. Finally he had introduced this custom, that no one might take a wife without his permission, so that he himself might be the first to sample every marriage; freeborn virgins, once violated, he handed over as wives to his own slaves. And his companions, under such a prince, imitated his debaucheries and violated with impunity the marriage-beds of their hosts — for who would seek redress? He seized the daughters of ordinary people wherever he pleased. Women of the highest rank, who could not simply be seized, were sought as though by way of favor, and it was not permitted to refuse once the emperor had put his name to the request, on pain of either perishing or being forced to accept some barbarian as a son-in-law. For scarcely any bodyguard stood at his side who was not of that people which, driven from their lands by the Goths at the time of the twentieth anniversary celebrations, had surrendered themselves to Maximian — that curse of the human race — so that men fleeing servitude to barbarians might instead lord it over Romans. Surrounded by such attendants and protectors, he made a mockery of the East.
In the end, once he had given free rein to his lusts in this manner, it happened that after Maximian's death Valeria came to him, thinking she would be safer staying in his territory, especially since he had a wife. But the wicked creature immediately burned with desire for her. The woman was still in mourning garments, the period of grief not yet completed. He sent envoys ahead demanding her hand in marriage, intending to cast out his wife if his suit succeeded. She replied, freely, as only she was free to do: first, that she could not discuss marriage while still in mourning attire, with the ashes of her husband — his own father — scarcely cold; second, that he would be acting impiously in repudiating a faithful wife, since he would surely do the same to her; and finally, that it would be a disgrace, unheard of and without precedent, for a woman of her name and station to take another husband in such fashion. His attendants reported to him what she had dared to say. His lust turned into rage and fury. At once he proscribed the woman, seized her property, took away her attendants, put her eunuchs to death under torture, banished her together with her mother into exile — not to any fixed place, but drove her headlong here and there in mockery — and condemned her friends on trumped-up charges of adultery.
There was a most distinguished lady who already had grandchildren by her grown sons. Valeria loved her as a second mother; and on her advice, he suspected, Valeria had refused him. He gave orders to the governor Eratineus that she be put to death with disgrace. Two other women were joined to her, equally noble; one of them had left behind in Rome a virgin daughter who was a Vestal, and had secretly been a friend of Valeria; the other had a husband who was a senator, a man not too closely connected to the Augusta. Both, however, were put to death on account of their exceptional beauty and chastity. The women were seized suddenly, not for any trial but for outright robbery — for no accuser ever came forward. A certain Jew was found, himself already guilty of other crimes, who, tempted by the hope of impunity, was induced to bring false charges against the innocent women. The judge, being fair and careful, had him escorted outside the city with a guard, lest he be stoned by the people. This tragedy was enacted at Nicaea. Torture was applied to the Jew, and he said what he had been instructed to say; and lest the women contradict him, they were beaten by the torturers to keep silent. The innocent women were ordered to be led away to execution. There was weeping and lamentation, not only from the husband present, who mourned his deserving wife, but from all whom this unheard-of and shameful business had drawn together. And lest the crowd, in its outrage, snatch the women from the executioners' hands, armored cavalry and archers were sent ahead in military formation as escort. Thus, hemmed in between ranks of armed men, they were led to their punishment; and they would have lain unburied — their household servants having fled — had not the secret pity of friends buried them. Nor was the impunity the adulterer had promised ever paid out to the false witness: fixed to a cross, he revealed the whole conspiracy, and with his last breath declared before all who watched that the women had been killed though innocent.
The Augusta herself, banished to certain desert wastes of Syria, made her plight known to her father Diocletian through secret messengers. He sent envoys and asked that his daughter be sent back to him: it accomplished nothing. Again and repeatedly he begged: she was not returned. Finally he sent a certain relative of his, a powerful military man, to remind Maximinus of his own past favors and beg on his behalf. This man too, his mission unfulfilled, reported back that his pleas had been in vain.
At the same time, by order of Constantine, the statues of the aged Maximian were being torn down, and his images, wherever painted, were removed. And because the two old emperors had usually been painted together, the images of both were taken down together. And so when Diocletian saw happen to him, while still alive, what had never before befallen any emperor, struck by a twofold sickness of spirit, he resolved that death was his only course. He tossed himself this way and that, his mind seething with grief, taking neither sleep nor food. Sighs and groans, constant tears, and continual turning of his body, now on his bed, now on the ground — thus the emperor who for twenty years had been most fortunate was cast down by God to a lowly existence, trampled by injuries, brought to loathe his own life, and in the end was worn away by hunger and anguish.
Only one now remained among the enemies of God — Maximinus — whose downfall and ruin I shall now relate. Since he harbored rivalry against Licinius, because Licinius had been preferred above him by Maximian, though he had recently confirmed friendship with him, yet as soon as he heard that Constantine's sister was betrothed to Licinius, he judged that this alliance between the two emperors had been formed against himself. He therefore secretly sent envoys to Rome to seek alliance and friendship with Maxentius, writing to him also in familiar terms. The envoys were received graciously; friendship was formed, and images of both were set up together. Maxentius gladly welcomed this as if it were divine assistance, for he had already declared war on Constantine, as though to avenge his father's death. From this arose the suspicion that the old man had feigned discord with his son in order to open a way for himself to cut down others, and, once all had been removed, to claim for himself and his son the rule of the whole world. But this was false. For his actual purpose was, once his son and the others had been destroyed, to restore himself and Diocletian to power.
By now civil war had already broken out between them. And although Maxentius kept to Rome, having received an oracle that he would perish if he went outside the city gates, the war was nonetheless waged through capable commanders. Maxentius had the greater strength, since he had taken over both his father's army from Severus and his own forces recently drawn from the Moors and Gaetulians. Battle was joined, and the troops of Maxentius were prevailing, until at last, his resolve strengthened and ready for either outcome, Constantine brought all his forces closer to the city and took up position opposite the Milvian Bridge. The day was approaching on which Maxentius had first assumed power — the sixth day before the Kalends of November — and his fifth anniversary was drawing to a close. Constantine was warned in his sleep to mark the heavenly sign of God upon the shields and thus join battle. He did as he was ordered, and marked Christ upon the shields by means of the letter X turned sideways, with its top bent round. Armed with this sign, the army took up its weapons. The enemy advanced to meet them without their emperor and crossed the bridge. The battle lines clashed on equal terms, and both sides fought with utmost force; neither side knew flight. A disturbance arose in the city, and the leader was denounced as a deserter of the public safety; and when he was seen — for the games of the Circus were being celebrated that day for his birthday — the people suddenly cried out with one voice that Constantine could not be defeated. Alarmed by this outcry, he rushed off, summoned certain senators, and ordered the Sibylline Books to be consulted; in them it was found that on that day the enemy of the Romans would perish. Encouraged by this answer to hope for victory, he went forth and came to the battle line. The bridge behind him was broken down. When this was seen, the fighting grew fiercer, and the hand of God hovered over the battle. The forces of Maxentius were routed, and he himself, turning to flight, hastened toward the bridge, which had been cut, and, pressed by the crowd of fugitives, was flung down into the Tiber. When this most bitter war was at last brought to its conclusion, Constantine, welcomed as emperor with great rejoicing by the Senate and people of Rome, learned of the treachery of Maximinus; he intercepted letters and found statues and images. The Senate, in recognition of his valor, decreed to Constantine the title of first name, which Maximinus had claimed for himself; and when news of the victory that had freed the city was brought to him, he received it no otherwise than as if he himself had been defeated. And when he further learned of the Senate's decree, he burned with such resentment that he openly declared his enmity, uttering insults mixed with mockery against the greatest of emperors.
Once affairs at Rome were settled, Constantine withdrew for the following winter to Milan. There Licinius also arrived, to receive his bride. When Maximinus learned that they were occupied with the wedding festivities, he moved his army from Syria, in the very midst of a raging winter, and by forced double marches hastened into Bithynia with his column already weakened. For amid the heaviest rains and snows and mud and cold and toil, pack animals of every kind were lost, whose pitiable carcasses strewn along the road already foretold to the soldiers the shape of the coming war and a like disaster. Nor did he even pause within his own borders, but at once crossed the strait and came in arms to the gates of Byzantium. There were garrison troops stationed there by Licinius against just such an eventuality. He first tried to entice them with gifts and promises, then to terrify them by force and assault; yet neither force nor promises availed anything. Already eleven days had passed, days enough to send messengers and letters to the emperor, when the soldiers, trusting not in their loyalty but relying on their small numbers, surrendered themselves. From there he advanced to Heraclea, and there, detained by the same tactic, he lost several more days. And by now Licinius, marching in haste with a small force, had reached Hadrianopolis, while Maximinus, having accepted the surrender of Perinthus and delayed there a while, advanced to a camp eighteen miles off — for he could go no farther, since Licinius already held the next camp an equal distance away. Licinius, gathering as many soldiers as he could from the nearby region, went out to meet Maximinus, more to delay him than out of any resolve to fight or hope of victory. For while Maximinus led an army of seventy thousand armed men, Licinius had scarcely gathered thirty thousand. His soldiers had been scattered through various regions, and the shortness of time did not allow them all to be assembled.
As the armies drew near, then, it seemed that battle would soon be joined. At that time Maximinus made a vow to Jupiter of this kind: that if he won the victory, he would blot out and utterly destroy the name of the Christians. Then, on the following night, as Licinius slept, an angel of God stood by him, warning him to rise at once and pray to the highest God together with his whole army: victory would be his if he did so. After these words, when he seemed to himself to rise, and the one who had warned him stood by still, he then taught him how, and in what words, he ought to pray. Roused from sleep, he ordered his secretary summoned and dictated these words just as he had heard them: 'O God most high, thee we entreat; O holy God, thee we entreat: to thee we commit all justice, to thee we commit our safety, to thee we commit our dominion. Through thee we live, through thee we stand victorious and blessed. Hear our prayers, God most high and holy: toward thee we lift our arms: hear us, holy God, God most high.' These words were written out on many little sheets and sent by the commanders and tribunes so that each might teach them to his own soldiers. The spirit of all rose high, believing that victory had been announced to them from heaven. The emperor set the battle for the day of the Kalends of May, which would complete the eighth year of his reign, so that Maximinus might be beaten precisely on the anniversary of his own accession, just as his rival had been beaten at Rome. Maximinus wished to strike first: the day before, in the morning, he drew up his line of battle, so as to celebrate his own anniversary the next day as victor. Word came to camp that Maximinus had moved. The soldiers took up arms and advanced to meet him. Between them lay a barren, open plain, which men call Serenus. Now both battle lines were in sight of each other. The soldiers of Licinius laid down their shields, unfastened their helmets, and stretched their hands toward heaven, following the lead of their officers, and spoke the prayer on behalf of their emperor. The doomed army heard the murmur of those praying. When the prayer had been said three times, filled now with courage, they put their helmets back on their heads and raised their shields. The emperors met to confer, but peace proved impossible with Maximinus, since he held Licinius in contempt and judged him deserted by his own troops — Licinius being close-fisted with rewards, whereas he himself gave freely; indeed this very calculation had driven him to war in the first place, so that by absorbing Licinius's army without a fight he could march at once, his forces doubled, against Constantine.