But The Wisdom And Authority

But A Law, However Venerable Be The Sanction, Cannot Suddenly Transform The Temper Of The Times . . .

But In Almost Every Province Of The Roman World, An Army Of Fanatics, Without Authority And Without Discipline, Invaded The Peaceful Inhabitants; And The Ruin Of The Fairest Structures Of Antiquity Still Displays The Ravages Of Those Barbarians Who Alone Had Time And Inclination To Execute Such Laborious Destruction.

In Less Than Seven Years The Vestiges Of The Gothic Invasion Were Almost Obliterated, And The City Appeared To Resume Its Former Splendour And Tranquillity. The Venerable Matron Replaced Her Crown Of Laurel, Which Had Been Ruffled By The Storms Of War, And Was Still Amused In The Last Moment Of Her Decay With The Prophecies Of Revenge, Of Victory, And Of Eternal Dominion.

At That Time The Archiepiscopal Throne Of Alexandria Was Filled By Theophilus, The Perpetual Enemy Of Peace And Virtue; A Bold, Bad Man, Whose Hands Were Alternately Polluted With Gold And With Blood.

It Was The Fashion Of The Times To Attribute Every Remarkable Event To The Particular Will Of The Deity; The Alterations Of Nature Were Connected, By An Invisible Chain, With The Moral And Metaphysical Opinions Of The Human Mind; And The Most Sagacious Divines Could Distinguish, According To The Colour Of Their Respective Prejudices, That The Establishment Of Heresy Tended To Produce An Earthquake, Or That A Deluge Was The Inevitable Consequence Of The Progress Of Sin And Error.