The Riot at Antioch

Because of his constant wars, the emperor was forced to lay heavy taxes on the cities of the empire. [a]

The city of Antioch refused to put up with the new tax. When the people saw those from whom it was being collected subjected to torture and humiliation, they did the things a mob usually does when it seizes a chance for disorder. And besides this, they pulled down the bronze statue of the illustrious Placilla, for that was the empress’s name, and dragged it through a large part of the city. When the emperor was told of these events, he was angry, as one would expect. He took away the city’s privileges and gave her rank to her neighbor, thinking that in this way he could inflict the greatest humiliation on her, for from the earliest times Antioch had had a rival in Laodicea. He also threatened to burn and destroy the city and reduce it to the rank of a village. The magistrates, however, had arrested some men in the very act and had put them to death before the tragedy came to the emperor’s ears. The emperor had given all these orders, but they had not been carried out because of the restraint laid down by the edict that had been made on the advice of the great Ambrose. The commissioners who brought the emperor’s threats arrived. They were Elebichus, then a military commander, and Caesarius, prefect of the palace, the official the Romans call magister officiorum. At their arrival the whole population shuddered in dismay. But the athletes of virtue who lived at the foot of the hill, and there were many of the best of them at that time, made many appeals and pleas to the imperial officers. The most holy Macedonius was completely inexperienced in the affairs of this life and knew nothing at all of the sacred scriptures. He lived on the mountaintops, offering pure prayers night and day to the Savior of all. He was not in the least alarmed by the emperor’s violence, nor did the power of the commissioners affect him at all. As they rode into the middle of the city, he caught one of them by the cloak and told both of them to get down from their horses. When they saw a little old man dressed in common rags, they were indignant at first. But some of those escorting them told them of Macedonius’s high character. Then they leaped from their horses, took hold of his knees, and asked his pardon. Moved by divine wisdom, the old man spoke to them in these words: “My dear sirs, say this to the emperor: You are not only an emperor; you are also a man. So consider not only your sovereignty but also your nature. You are a man, and you reign over your fellow men. Now human nature is formed after the image and likeness of God. So do not order the slaughter of God’s image so savagely and cruelly, for by punishing his image you will anger its Maker. “Think: you are acting this way in your anger for the sake of a bronze image. Now everyone endowed with reason knows how far a lifeless image falls short of a living one, gifted with a soul and senses. Consider too that for one bronze image we can easily make many more. But even you yourself cannot make one single hair of those who have been killed.” [b]

When the good men had heard these words, they reported them to the emperor and put out the flame of his rage. Instead of threats he wrote a defense of himself and explained the reason for his anger. “It was not right,” he said, “that a woman so worthy of the highest praise should be insulted after her death because I had done wrong. Those who felt wronged ought to have turned their anger against me.” The emperor added that he was grieved and distressed when he heard that some had been executed by the magistrates. In telling these events I have had two purposes. I did not think it right to let the boldness of the illustrious monk be forgotten, and I wanted to point out the good done by the edict that was issued on the advice of the great Ambrose.