ed of his matchless strength
and appetite. Had he lived in a less enlightened age, tradition and
poetry might well have described him as one of those monstrous giants,
whose supernatural power was constantly exerted for the destruction of
mankind.

It is easier to conceive than to describe the universal joy of the Roman
world on the fall of the tyrant, the news of which is said to have been
carried in four days from Aquileia to Rome. The return of Maximus was a
triumphal procession; his colleague and young Gordian went out to meet
him, and the three princes made their entry into the capital, attended
by the ambassadors of almost all the cities of Italy, saluted with the
splendid offerings of gratitude and superstition, and received with
the unfeigned acclamations of the senate and people, who persuaded
themselves that a golden age would succeed to an age of iron. The
conduct of the two emperors corresponded with these expectations. They
administered justice in person; and the rigor of the one was tempered by
the other's clemency. The oppressive taxes with which Maximin had loaded
the rights of inheritance and succession, were repealed, or at least
moderated. Discipline was revived, and with the advice of the senate
many wise laws were enacted by their imperial ministers, who endeavored
to restore a civil constitution on the ruins of military tyranny.
"What reward may we expect for delivering Rome from a monster?" was
the question asked by Maximus, in a moment of freedom and confidence.
Balbinus answered it without hesitation--"The love of the senate, of
the people, and of all mankind." "Alas!" replied his more penetrating
colleague--"alas! I dread the hatred of the soldiers, and the fatal
effects of their resentment." His apprehensions were but too well
justified by the event.

Whilst Maximus was preparing to defend Italy against the common foe,
Balbinus, who remained at Rome, had been engaged in scenes of blood and
intestine discord. Distrust and jealousy reigned in the senate; and even
in the temples where they assembled, every senator carried either open
or concealed arms. In the midst of their deliberations, two veterans
of the guards, actuated either by curiosity or a sinister motive,
audaciously thrust themselves into the house, and advanced by degrees
beyond the altar of Victory. Gallicanus, a consular, and Maecenas, a
Praetorian senator, viewed with indignation their insolent intrusion:
drawing their daggers,