re, of which he became the supreme and only emperor.
Theodosius was in fact one of the greatest of the emperors, and the last
great man who swayed the sceptre of Trajan, his ancestor. On him the
vulgar and the high-born equally gazed with admiration,--and yet he was
not great enough to be free from vices, patron as he was of the Church
and her institutions.

It seems that this illustrious emperor, in a fit of passion, ordered the
slaughter of the people of Thessalonica, because they had arisen and
killed some half-a-dozen of the officers of the government, in a
sedition, on account of the imprisonment of a favorite circus-rider. The
wrath of Theodosius knew no bounds. He had once before forgiven the
people of Antioch for a more outrageous insult to imperial authority;
but he would not pardon the people of Thessalonica, and caused some
seven thousand of them to be executed,--an outrageous vengeance, a crime
against humanity. The severity of this punishment filled the whole
Empire with consternation. Ambrose himself was so overwhelmed with grief
and indignation that he retired into the country in order to avoid all
intercourse with his sovereign. And there he remained, until the emperor
came to himself and comprehended the enormity of his crime. But Ambrose
wrote a letter to the emperor, in which he insisted on his repentance
and expiation. The emperor was so touched by the fidelity and eloquence
of the prelate that he came to the cathedral to offer up his customary
oblations. But the bishop, in his episcopal robes, met him at the porch
and forbade his entrance. "Do not think, O Emperor, to atone for the
enormity of your offence by merely presenting yourself in the church.
Dream not of entering these sacred precincts with your hands stained
with blood. Receive with submission the sentence of the Church." Then
Theodosius attempted to justify himself by the example of David. "But,"
retorted the bishop, "if you imitate David in his crime, imitate David
in his repentance. Insult not the Church by a double crime." So the
emperor, in spite of his elevated rank and power, was obliged to return.
The festival of Christmas approached, the great holiday of the Church,
and then was seen one of the rarest spectacles which history records.
The great emperor, now with undivided authority, penetrated with grief
and shame and penitence, again approached the sacred edifice, and openly
made a full confession of his sins; and not till then wa