UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES f THE GIFT OF MAY TREAT MORRISON IN MEMORY OF ALEXANDER F MORRISON UNIYERSAL HISTORY. CREATION OE THE WOELD BEGINNING OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. BY THE LATE HON. ALEXANDER ERASER TYTLER, LORD WOODHOUSELEE, il SENATOR OP THE COLLEGE OP JUSTICE, AND LORD COMMISSIONER OF JUSTICIARY IN SCOTLAND, AND FORMERLY PROFESSOR OP CIVIL HISTORY, AND GREEK AND ROMAN ANTIQUITIES, IN THE UNIVERSITY OP EDINBURGH. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. L PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., NOS. 22 A 2i NORTH FOURTH ST. 1860. a a: u. O C o W8'5 lA- V.I ADVERTISEMENT. This work on Universal History comprehends the whole course of Lectures on that subject delivered by the Author, while Pro- fessor of Civil History and Greek and Roman Antiquities in the University of Edaiburgh. The work entitled Elements of History, by the same author, was, originally, merely the heads c^ or outlines of this course of lectures. It was* afterwards enlarged *^ so as to form a Syllabus to the general reader of history ; and has been so favorably received by the public as to go through ^ numerous editions in this country, and also in America ; and to ^ have been adopted as a manual in not a k\v Universities. ^ The complete work is now, for the first time, given to the pubiiu. The preparation of it for the press was the last of the 3 nierary labors of its distinguished Author. Nor did he live to 2 complete it ; but the constant attention of thirty years, and its 2 annual revision during the greater part of that period, had left little to its Editor. W. F. T. London, January, 1834. 428543 CONTENTS. BOOK THE FIRST CHAPTER I. Various plans of historical prelections — Chronological method — Metlod of treating hi&tcry as subservient onlj to the science of politics — Plan of the present vvoik — Division by epochs rejected, and why — A predominant nation always the principal object — Ancient history — Greece — Collateral objectg, Egypt, Phoenicia, &c. — Views of government, science, arts, &c. — Rome, its collateral and incidental objects of history — Decline of the empire — Gothic nations — Modern history — Saracens — Ciiarlemagne — Laws, &c. of that age — Britain — Continental European kingdoms — Crusades — Russia, Switzerland — Fall of Eastern empire — Moors — Portuguese discoveries — The Reforma- tion — Asia — India — Revolt of the Netherlands — Age of Henry IV. and Eliza- beth — Revolution and close of British history — Spain — France — Sweden — Age of Louis XIV. — Charles XII. — Peter the Great — Conclusion — Progress of Science and Literature in Europe 1 CHAPTER II. Earliest Ages of the World — Early History of Assyria — Of Egypt — Invasioa of the Shepherd Kings 15 CHAPTER III. On the nature of the first Governments, and on the Manners and Customs, Laws, Arts, and Sciences of the early Nations. . . ,19 CHAPTER IV. Of the Egtp'iians — Early Civilization — Inundation of the Nile — Govern- ment — Laws- -Manners — Arts — Obelisks and Pyramids — Sciences — Philoso- phical Opmions — Character 34 CHAPTER V. Or THE PiitENiciANS — Alphabetic Writing — Sanchoniatho — Navigation — Tyro ....... 4S C0NTEMT8. CHAPTER VI. TiiK CJnr.ciAM ni5Tf>iiy — Eorlicst period of the History of Greece— The Titam— CVcri>p8 — Chronicle of I'aros — Areopagus— Deluge of Deucalion — Council of the Ainphictyons — Cadmus — Introduction of Letters. • . 51 CHAPTER VII. Roflertiona on the first and rudest periods of the Grecian History — Extreme Harharistn of the Aborigines — Circumstances which retarded Civilization — Origin of the Greek Theology — Uncertainty of Mythological Researches — Superstitious Character of the Greeks — Oracles — Games — ESecta of tliem on the National Character 58 CHAPTER VIII. Eorly period of the Greek history continued — Earliest state of agriculture in Greece — Erectheus institutes the Eleusinian Mysteries — Obtains the sove- reignty of Attica — Theseus unites the cities of Attica — This the age of the marvellous — End of that period — E.\pedition of the Argonauts — Course of their voyage — The solstitial and equinoctial points fixed by Chiron — This the foundation of Sir Isaac Newton's chronology — Twofold proof on which it rests — Progiess of maritime affairs in Greece — Stale of the military art — War of Thebes — War of the Epigonoi—yiOiT of Troy — Ancient system of warfare — Tiie tactic or arrangement of their troops — Subsistence of the armies — Amis — Tlie war of tiie HcracUdtE — Change of government in Greece — Commencement of the democracy of Athens — Origin of tiie Greek colonies — Causes of tlieir rapid advancement 67 CHAPTER IX. The RrrrBi.TC of LackdjEmon — Origin — Divided Sovereignty — Brown's Theory of llie Spartan Constitution e.xamined — Reform of Lycurgus — Senate — Limitation of the Kingly Power — Regulation of Manners — Equal Partition of Land among all the Citizens — Iron Money — Arts prohibited and confined to Slaves — Public Tables — Education — Defects of the System of Lycurgus — Its effects on Manners — Tlietl authorized — Cruelty — Idleness — Creation of tlie Ephori . .34 CHAPTER X. FiiF. Rrnntic or Atiif.xs — Revolution in the States of Attica — Rega Government abolished — Perpetual Archons — Draco — Solon — His Institu- tions— Senate— Areopagus reestaWished— Power of the Popular Assemblies — l,aws— Ostracism- Appeal from all Courts to the People — .Manners— Rev- enue— Grecian History continued, Pisistratus, Hippias, and llipparchus Alcmiconidtp. yd CHAPTER XL Urigix or TiiK Pfrha.n Mosarchv— End of the first Assyrian Empire— Era of Nabonassar— Monarchy of ilie Medes; Dejoces, Phraortes, Cyaxares, CONTENTS. VU Nobopolassar— Nabuchodonozor IT. — Captivity of the Jews — Cyrus tlie elder — Cainbyses — Darius, son of Hystaspes — Conquest of Babylon — His War against the Scythians — His conquest of India — Government, Customs, and Manners of the Persians — Education of their Princes — General Kducation of the Persian Youth — National Character of the Pci-sians — Military Char- acter — Government — Adiiiiiiistralion of Justice — Religion of the AncienI Persians — Zoroaster; Uncertainty of his History — The Second Zoroaster — Translation of the Zendavesla by Anquelil — Cosmogony of ihc Zondavesta — Manicheism — Practical and Moral parts of the Persian Religion — The Sadder — Change in the Manners of the Persians — Slate of Greece at the time of the Persian War. ... . . 113 BOOK THE SECOND. CHAPTER I. History of Greece, continued — Origin and cause of the War with Persia — Commencement of hostilities — Battle of Marathon — Mlltiades — Aristides — Theiuistocles — Invasion of Greece by Xerxes — Banishment of Aiistides — Thcrmopyla; — Salamis — Plala;aand Mycale — Disunion of the Greeks — Cimon — Pericles — Decline of the patriotic spirit \SI CHAPTER II. Administration of Pericles — Peloponnesian War— Siege of Plataca — Alcibiadea — Lysander — The Thirty Tyrants — Thrasybulus — Death of Socrates — Re- treat of the Ten Thousand — ^V"ar with Persia terminated by tlie Peace of Antalcidas. . . . . . . . . . . . .143 CHAPTER III. Repubi ic OF Thebes — Pelopidas and Epaminondas — Battle ot J^euctra — of Mantiiica — General Peace and its consequences — Philip of j*[-\cedon — The Sacred War — Demosthenes — Battle of 01ia;ronea — Designs of Philip against Persia — His death • . . . . 161 CHAPTER IV. Alexjincer the Great takes and destroys Thebes — Submission of the Gre- cian States — Ale.Tander declared General of the Armies of Grcec" — Battle of the Granicus — Issus — Siege of Tyre — Expedition into Egypt— Patlle of Arbela — Alexander at Persepolis — Expedition to India — Rc-turn to Siisa — Enters Babylon, and dies — Division of his Empire — Kingdom of Egypt — of Syria . . 177 CHAPTER V. Flourishing state of Egypt under the Ptolemies — Greece aflcr the death oi Alexander — Achaian league — Revolution at Lacedaimon — Ambitious designs of Philip II. of Macedon diaw on him tlie vengeance of the Romans — Theii aid solicited by the jTitolians — Macedon conquered — Greece becomes a Ro- man province. . . 198 Viii CONTKNTS CHAFTKR VI. Polilicnl rrflpilion* ariaing from Mio history of Griccc--Ilctrospcclive view- Connlilulionol defects in llic leading republics— A pure democracy is a chi- mera — All government essentially of the nature of a monarchy — Error of Monl4«squie»'8 theory — Ferguson's idea of a perfect republic — Democracy untavoruble to patriotism — Danger of generalizing in politics — A rude slate of iocicty favorable to patriotism — (ireece a strong instance of this — CliJU^C- ler of (i*rc<;ce alVr the Roman conquest. 213 CHAPTER VII. I'hc Greeks not eminent in the Useful Arts — Commerce — Superiority in the Fine Arts— Greek Architecture — Gothic Architecture — Sculpture — Inferi- ority of the Moderns — Greek religion favorable to Sculpture and Painting — Greek Painters 223 CHAPTER VIII. Public games of Greece — EfTects on character — Manners — Poetical composition anterior to prose — Homer — Hesiod — Archilochus — Tcrpander — Sappho — Pindar — Anacreon — The Greek epigram — The Greek comedy, distinguished into the old, the middle, and the nev Ar;stophanes — Menander — Greek tragedy — /Eschylus — Euripides — Sop .jc.e — Mode of dramatic representa- tion — The ancient drama set to niusic i''ie :»Iimesand Pantomimes — Of the Greek historians — Herodotus — Tliucydit.cs — Xenophon — Polybius — Diodo- rus Siculus — Dionysius of Halicarnassus — Arrian — riutarcli. . . 237 CHAPTER IX. Gkk.ek Piii.iosojmiv — lonio Sect — Thiiles — Anaximander — Ana.ximenes — An- axagoras — Italic Sect — Pythagoras — Empedocles, &c. — Eleatic Sect — Zeno — Leucippus — Democritus — Heraclitus — Socrates — Cyrenaic Sect — Aristip- pus — Cynics — Diogenes — Megaric Sect — Plato^Peripatetics — Anstotle— Sceptics — Pyrrho — Stoics — Epicureans — Reflections. . . 260 BOOK THE THIRD CHAPTER I. Thf Roman History- Earliest Periods of the History of Rome— Etruscans- Foundation of Rome— Disputed accounts of— Romulus — Rape of the Sabines —Origin of the Political Institutions of the Romans — Union \vitli the Sabines — Numa— His Institutions— Tullrs Hostilius— Ancus Marlius— Tarquiniue Priscus. . . 082 CHAPTER II. ymrnj TcLi.ii-s, sixth King of Rome— His Political Talents— Artful division of the People into O asses and Centuries— The Census— Lustrum— Tarqui CONTENTS IX nius Superbus — End of the Regal government — Reflections on this Period — Constitution of the Senate — Narrow Territory of tlie State — Kxaggerated Accounts of its Military Force — Uncertainty of its Early History. . 297 CHAPTER III. Interregnum — Consuls appointed with sovereign power — Conspiracy against the new Government — Patriotism of Brutus — Valerian Law — War with Por- sena — Popular disturbances — Debts of the Poor — A Dictator appointed — Impolitic conduct of the Patricians — Their Concessions — Tribunes of the People created — Change in the Constitution — Reflections on. . • SOS CHAPTER IV. Increase of the power of the Tribunes- They convoke an assembly of the Peo- ple — Coriolanus — Disputes on the Agrarian Law — Law of Volero — and change produced by it 319 CHAPTER V. An Agrarian Law never seriously projected — Decemviri propesed to digest a Code of Laws — Cincinnatus — Appointment of Decemvirs — Laws of the Twelve Tables — Tyranny of the Decemvirs — Infamous conduct of Appiua Claudius — Death of Virginia — Abolition of the Decemvirate. . . 326 CHAPTER VL Law against intermarriage of Patricians and Plebeians repealed — Military Tn bunes created — Creation of Censors — Their high powers of office — A regular pay assigned to the Army introduces a new balance into the Constitution- Consequences of — Siege of Veii — Romans begin to extend their conquests — Reflections on the state of the Republic at this period — War with the Gauls — Its fai)ulous aspect — New popular Laws — Institution of the oflice of Prffitor ••-of Ciuaestor — ofiEdile — Liciniaii law limiting property in land. , . 339 CHAPTER VII. RiMAN History continued — War with the Samnitcs — Devotion of Decius — Disgrace of the Caudine Forks — Popular pretensions increase — The IMebeiana admitted to the Priesthood — War with Pyrrlius, King of Epirus — His Defeat — Conquest of all Italy by the Romans — Iiic,or[)orali()n of the com^uered Na- tions — Manner in which the Rights of Citizenship were extended. . 352 CHAPTER VIII. CiRTHAGK, a Phoenician Colony — Early History — Government — Wars — Early History of Sicily — Syracusan Government — Dionysius the Elder — Dionj'uius the Younger — Dion — Timoleon — Agathocles — Character of the Carthaginians and Romans compared. . . ','Cn CHAPTER IX. First Ptnic War — First Naval Victory of the Romans — Invasion of Africa — Hegulus — Termination of the War — Second Punic War — Hannibal passes conte:it8 Ihc Alp*— Hi« vicloriPi in Italy— Hnllli; of CannrD— Hannibal winters in Capim Sii'jff of ^yiacime — dcfi-ndctl by A rcliiiiicdi-s— Battle of Zaina — and end of SiTond Piinio War — Di-fcat of I'liiiip II. of iMactdon — of Anlioclius, kin|; of Syria — ('alo tin- Censor — AccuHalion of Scipio AfricaniiH — Mis char- actrr — Scipio Aiiaticus — War willi Perseus and reduction of Macedonia — TiiiKD Pu.Nic Wah, and destruction ok Caktiiaoe. . 3G7 BOOK THE FOURTH. CHAPTER I. Sedition of the nracchi — Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi — Criminal amhition of Ju^urtiin — Tlie Romans declare war against him, under RIetellus and Ma- rius— Ueatii of Jngurtha — Invasion of ihe Cimbri — Progress of corruption in the Republic — I.ivius Dtusus's projects of Reform — The Social War — Ori gin of the civil War — Rivalship of Marius and Sylla — War with Mithridates — Marius and Cinna — Sylla obtains absolute authority — His proscriptions- His salutary Reforms — lis resigns the Dictatorship — Lepidus defeated and slain — Pompey distinguishes hiuiself — Lucullus's war against Mithridates — He is superseded by Pompey — Conspiracy of Catiline — Kxtent of the design — Punishment of the Conspirators — Catiline is killed in battle — Ambitious designs of Julius Casar — First triumvirate — Agrarian Law — Caesar's increase of power — His design for the removal of Cicero — Cicero's pusillanimous con- duct — He goes into Exile — His Estates confiscated — Coesar's Military Ex- ploits in Gaul — Pompey procures the recall of Cicero — Death of Crassus, anf* rivalship of Pompey and Caesar 385 CHAPTER II. Cossar passes the Rubicon — Marches to Rome — Named Dictator — Battle of Pharsalia — Flight and Death of Pompey — Defeat of Pharnaces — Death of Cato-^Cirsar's Reforms in the Roman State — Reform of the Calendar — Is created perpetual Dictator with the title of Imperator — Character of Ctrsar — Is assassinated — Artful conduct of Mark Antony — His ambitious views — Second Triumvirate — Bloody Proscription — Death of Cicero — Battle of Phi lippi, and End of the Republic — Battle of Actium — Death of Antony and Cleopatra— Octavius (afterwards Augustus) sole master of tlie Roman Em- pire. : . . 406 CHAPTER III. Un tl»e Genius and National Character of the Romans— System of Roman Ed- ucation— Progress of Literature— The Drama — Historians— Poets. . 421 CHAPTER IV. Roman Philosophy— Public and Private Manners. .... 437 CHAPTER V. On the .Vrt of War among tlie Romans . . 451 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER VI. Reflections arising from a view of the Roman History during the Common- wealth. . . 4C3 BOOK THE FIFTH. CHAPTER I. Fate of the Roman Republic decided by the Battle of Actium — Reign of Au- gustus — Birth of our Saviour Jesus Christ — Tiberius — Crucifixion of our Saviour — Caligula — Claudius— Nero — Galba — Olho — Viiellius — Vespa- sian — Titus — Domitian — Nerva — Trajan — Adrian. .... 47? CHAPTER II. Age of the Antonines — Commodns — Pertinax — The PrtEtorian Guards sell the Empire by auction — Four Emperors proclaimed — Severus marches to Rome and disbands the Prcetorian Guards — \Var in Britain — Severus dies at York — Caracalla — Disorders in the Empire continue till the Reign of Diocletian — Constantino — His zeal for Christianity. 49*^ CHAPTER III. Change in the System of Policy and Government introduced by Constantino — Pretorian Prefects — Proconsuls — Counts and Dukes — Taxes — Free Gifts — Seat of Empire translated to Constantinople — Division of the Empire — Julian — His artful Hostility to Christianity — Jovian — Valentinian — Irrup- tions of the Goths Of the Huns — Valens — Gratian Theodoaius — Valenti- viaa thu Second ... 511 UNIVEESAL HISTORY EOOK THE FIRST. CHAPTER I. Various plans of historical prelections — Chronological method — Metho(J of treating history as subservient only to the science of politics — Plan of the present work — Division by epochs rejected, and why — a piedominanl nation always the principal object — Ancient history — (ireece — Collateral objects, Effypt, Phrenicia, &c. — Views of government, science, arts, &c. — Rome, ita collateral and incidental objects of history — Decline of the empire — (lothio t)ations — Modern history — Saracens — Charlemar;rwcie necessary dian tbat tbc memory sbould be stor- ed uiiball ibe rcmaikab'L' c'ver.is tbat bave occurred from tbc Cre- ation to tbc present time, properly arranged in ibe order in ubich tbcy bapjicncd, there could be no belter book than the Epitome of 'rurseliiiie, or the more enlarged Rationarinm of Petavius. Btjl books of this kind, and illustrations of such authors, when they are nothing more than amplifications of their text, have neither tbe charms of bistory nor its utility. As they contain no display of character, nor any spirit of reflection, tbey are incaj)abliii 540 years before Christ en. I.] PLAN OF THIS WORK. 1 Among the profane nations of antiquity, that which first makes a remarkable figure, and whose history at the same time lias a claim to be regarded as authentic, is the states of Greece. They there- fore demand a peculiar attention, and it is of importance to trace their history to its origin. But the Greeks were indebted for the greatest pail of their knowledge to the Egyptians and Phoenicians. Those, therefore, as relative to the leading nation, demand a por- lon of our attention, and naturally precede, or pave the way to, .ho history of the Greeks. For a similar reason, the Assyrians, a rival nation, conquered by the Egyptians at one time, and con- querors of them afterwards in their turn, (though their early history is extremely dark and uncertain,) require likewise a share in our observation. The Greeks then come to fill up the whole of the picture, and we endeavor to present an accurate delineation of their indepen- dent states, the singular constitution of the two great republics of Sparta and Athens, and the outlines of their history, down to the period of the Persian war, commenced by Darius, the son of H}staspes, and prosecuted under his successors Xerxes and Ar- taxerxes. This connection naturally induces a short retrospect to the preceding periods of the Persian history; the rise of that mon- archy, the nature of its government, the manners of the 'people, and the singular religion of the ancient Persians, which subsisted without much adulteration for some thousands of years, and is still kept alive among a particular sect at this day. The conclusion of the Persian war brings us back to the internal history of the states of Greece. We observe the subjection of Athens to the ambitious Pericles, and the seeds sown of the decline of that illustrious republic. The divisions of Greece engage our attention; the war of Peloponnesus; the corruption of the Spartan constitution introduced by Lysandcr; the glory of Thebes under Pelopidas and Ejjaininondas. We consider now the ambitious schemes of Philip of Macedon, the renewal of the war with Persia, and the immense conquests of Alexander the Great. AVe see, in fine, the total corruption of the Greeks; the extinction of all pub- lic virtue; the last feeble remains of patriotism in the union of the Achaean states; and the final reduction and submission of Greece to the arms of the Romans. The history of this illustrious people, the Greeks, furnishes a most amj)le field of reflection. The policy and constitution of the difTercnt states, particularly the two great and rival repulilics of Athens and Laceda^mon, demand our attention, as singularly illus- trative of ancient manners, and the wonderful effects of habit and discipline on the nature of man. The causes which contributed to the rise and* decline of those commonwealths are pregnant with political instruction. The change which the national character of the Greeks in general underwent, is a striking circumstance in the history of human nature, and will illustrate the influence of morals 9 U.MVF.IISAI. IIISlOllY. [noOK I on poluical |)io.s|)ciii) . The lltf.Tary genius of lliis pcojilc, llieir propross in pliilosopliy, llieir eminence in the fine arts — in ull of wliicli (|c|)nriin(iils ilicy became the models of imitation and llie iiistiiictcrs of the ancient world, — these snhjects, furnishing much nialter of useful speculation, will he treated in separate short disqui- sitions at the conclusion of the historical detail. Hitherto the leading object of attention is the history of Greece, to uhich, as may he observed, may be referred, by a natural con- nection, llitit of all the other nations whose history is in those periods deserving of our accpiaintance. The coiKpiest of Greece by the Romans entitles this latter nation to rank as the principal object in the subsequent delineation of ancient history. AVithoiit regard to the oflence against chronology, ue now return back above four hundred years, to observe the origin and rise of this remarkable peoi)lc. We contemj)late them in their infancy; we observe the military character which they derived from their incessant wars with the neighboring states of Italy; the nature of their government and internal policy under the kings; the easy revolution effected by the substitution of the consular for the regal dignity, without any substantial change in the constitution. We next remark the causes of the subsequent change; the people uniting themselves to resist the tyranny and oppression of the patrician order; the advantages they gain by the creation of the popular magistrates; the continual encroachments they make on the powers and privileges of the higher order, till they obtain an equal capacity of enjoying all the offices and dignities of the commonwealth. We now view the gradual extension of the Roman arms; the conquest of all Italy; the origin of the wars with foreign nations; ihe progress of the Punic wars, which open a collateral view of the Iiistory of Carthage and of Sicily; we trace the success of the Ro- man arms in Asia, Macedonia, and Greece, the opulence of the republic, from her conquests; and the corruption of her manners. In fine, we behold the extinction of patriotism; the endless dis- cords between the orders, loosening all the bands of public virtue; the progress of faction and inordinate ambition, terminating in the rivil wars and ruin of the connnonwealth. At this remarkable period, which naturally allows a pause in thn historical detail, I shall devote some time to the examination of those |>articulars which are characteristic of die genius and national spirit of the Romans; their system of education; their laws; their literary character; their art of war; their knowledge in the arts and sciences; their ])rivate and public manners; and their predominant tastes and passions. I shall close the remarks on the Roman history during the commonwealth, with some political reflections naturally arising from the subject, and illustrated by examples drawn both from that history, and from the preceding account of the stales of Greece CH. I.J PLA.V OF THIS WORK. 9 We then resume the outhnes of the Roman history under the emperors. We observe the specious policy under which tiiey disguise an absokite authority, till it is no longer necessary to keep on the mask. We remark the decline of the ambitious character of the Romans, and their easy submission to the entire loss of civil liberty ; the progress of corruption ; the venality of the imperial dignity ; the mischievous though necessary policy of the emperors, who, to secure their own power, industriously abased the military spirit of the people ; the effect of this ruinous policy in inviiiug the barbarous nations to attack the frontiers of those extensive douiinions, which were now a languid and unwieldy body without internal vigor ; the weakness of the emi)ire still further increased by its partition under Diocletian, and subdivision under his succes- sors ; the triumph of Christianity, and the extinction of paganism in the age of Theodosius. We mark now the progress of the barbarian nations, who attack the provinces on every quarter, till the Western empire becomes entirely their prey ; Africa seized by the Vandals, Spain by the Visigoths, Gaul by the Franks, Britain by the Saxons ; Rome and Italy itself by the licrulians, and afterwards by the Ostrogoths. We shall then observe, as the last flashes of an expiring lamp, a short but vigorous exertion from the East, by the generals of Jus- tinian ; the tem[)orary recovery of Italy ; and its final reduction by the Lombards. At this period, of the Hdl of the Western empire, we are natu- rally invited to enter into some short inquiries regarding the man- ners, the genius, the laws, and government of the Gothic nations ; and the distinguishing characteristics of those northern invaders, both before and after their establishment in the provi.ices of the empire. Thus, Ancient History will admit of a perspicuous delineation, by making our j)rincipal object of attention the predominant states of Greece and Rome, and incidentally touching on the most re- markable parts of the liistory of the subordinate nations of anti- quity, when connected with, or relative to, the principal object. In the delineation of Modern History, a similar plan will be pursued. The L'adiug ol)jects will be more various, and will more frequently change their place : a nation at one time the principal, may become for awhile subordinate, and afterwards reassume its rank as principal ; but uniformity of design will still characterize this moving picture ; the attention will always be directed to the history of a predominant people ; and other nations will be only incidentally noticed, when there is a natural connection with the principal object. After the fall of the Western empire, the nation which first distinguishes itself by its conquests, and the si)len(lor of its domin .on, IS that of the Saracens. The progress of the arms and of the religion of Mahomet, the rise and extent of the enq)ire of the VOL. I. 2 10 UMVKRSAI. IIISTOUr [dOOK ( caliphs, nrc singular and intcrcsling objects of aitnnlion. Tlic Franks, tlioii^li sotilod in Gaul bf.forc this period, do not attract our notice till aflcrwards — wjicn the foundation of the new empire of the west hy Oharlcmaj^tie naturally engages its to lr)ok hack to the origin of their nionarchy. Tims we have briefly before us, in one connected view, (he progress of this retnarkahle people from their infancy nnder Clovis, to their higest elevation niidc'r Charle- magne ; and thence to the reduction and dismemberment of their dominions under his weak j)Osterity. The age of Charlemagne furnishes some interesting matters of inqiiirv with regard to laws, literature, manners, and government ; and we shall endeavor to trace the origin of that remarkable poli- cy, the source (as has been justly said) both of the stability and of the disorders of the kiiigdoins of Europe, — the feudal system. The collateral objects of attention during this period are, the still venerable remains of the Roman empire in the East ; the beginning of the conquests and establishments of the Normans ; the foundation and progress of the temporal doininion of the church of Rome ; the separation of the Greek and Latin churches ; the afTairs of Italy, and the conquest of Spain by the Saracens. We now direct our attention for the first time to the history of Britain, postponed to this period, that we may consider it in one connected view, from its rudest stage to the end of the Anglo- Saxon government. As the history of our own country is of more importance to us than that of any other, the British history, as often as it is resumed, will be treated with greater amplitude than the limits of our plan allow to other nations ; and while we note the progress of man- ners, literature, and the arts, it shall be our endeavor, without prejudice, to mark those circumstances which indicate the progress of the constitution, its successive changes, and its advancement to ^lat system of equal liberty under which we have the haj)pines3 of living. We shall see in the Saxon IVitlenagemot the rude model of a parliament ; and in the institutions of the English Al- fred, we shall admire, in an age of barbarism, the genius of a great politician and legislator. While the history of Britain to the Conquest is the primary object of attention, a collateral view is taken of the state of the continental kingdoms of Europe. France, under the first sove- reigns of the Capetian race, presents us with very little that is worthy of observation. The Normans carry their arms into Italy, and achieve the conquest of Sicily ; while the maritinie states of Venice and Genoa, rising into consequence, become the coiiimer- cial agents of most of the European kingdoms. The dissensions between the German emperors and the popes, and the gradual increase of the temporal authority of the see of Rome, are not •inworthy of a jiarticular attention. The British history is again resumed as a princiual object ; and ClI I 1 PLAN OF THIS WORK. II we pursue its great outlines from tlie Norinan conquest to the death of King Jolm. In the tyranny of William the Conijiieror, and in the exorhilant weight of the crown during the reigns im- mediately succeeding, we shall observe the causes of that spirit of union aujong the people, in their efforts to resist it, which procur- ed for them those valuable charters, the foundation of our civil liberty. Under the reign of die second Henry, we shall observe a most important accession of territory to the English crown, in the acquisition of the ancient and early civilized kingdom of Ire- land. At this period, the whole of the nations of Europe, as if actu- ated by one spirit, join in the Crusades, a series of fatal and des- perate enter]Miscs, but which form an important object of atten- tion, from their effects in the formation of new kingdoms, new political arrangements, and a new system of manners. ^Ve shall trace with some care those effects in the changes of territorial property in the feudal governments — in the immunities acquired by towns and boroughs, which had hitherto been tied down by a species of vassalage to the nobles — and in the aggrandizement of the maritime cities. The moral as well as the political effects of those enterprises must be particularly noticed ; and we shall find a subject of entertaining disquisition in tracing the origin of chival ry, and its consequences in the introduction of romantic fiction. A short connected sketch of the European kingdoms, after the crusades, naturally follows ; in which a variety of interesting sub- jects solicit our attention : — the rise of the House of Austria ; the decline of the feudal government in France by the introduction of the Tkircl Estate to the national assemblies ; the establishment of the Swiss republics ; the disorders in the popedom ; and the me morable transactions in the council of Constance. These shortly considered, Britain again resumes her place as the leading object of attention. We remark the progress of the English constitution under Henry III., when the deputies of the boroughs were first admitted into parliament, the real date of the ori- gin of the House of Commons : the strengthening of the liberties of the people under Edward I. whose military enter|jris(;s, the conquest of Wales, and the temporary reduction of Scotland, lead us, by an easy connection, to the history of the latter kingdom. We shall here behold the many noble and successful struggles made by that ancient nation for her freedom and independence, against the power of the three first Edwards. We consider the claim of right pre- ferred by Edward III. to the crown of France, equally ill-founded, but more ably and gloriously sustained : and the muliiplied triumj)hs of the arms of England, till the kingdom of France itself is won by Henry V. We now turn our attention to the East, to remark an interest ing spectacle : the progress of the Ottoman arms retarded for a while by the conquests of Tamerlane and Scanderbeg ; but pros- i f.NIVKIlSAI. IIISTOIIV. [boo*. I piiiumJ iiiuIlt Malioinet tli9 Great, to ilie total extinction of the tireck or Consiaiiiiiio|toliian empire. The manners, laws, and government of the Turks, merit a share of our consideratitjn. Relurnin;; westward, we sec France in this age emancipatmg herself from the feudal hondage ; and the consequences of the pretensions made by her sovereigns to a part of Italy. These jiretensions, o|)j)osed by Ferdinand of Spain, naturally call our aitention to that (juarter, where a most important political change hud been operated in the union of the sovereignties of Arragon and Castde, and the fall of the Moorish kingdom of Granada. Reiiirniiig to Britain, while England is embroiled with the civil w ars of York and Lancaster, we pursue the great outlines of her history down to the reign of Henry VIII., and the cotemporary history of Scotland, during the reigns of the five Jameses. At this jjcriod, jiresenting a short delineation of the ancient constitu- tion of the Scottish government, I shall endeavor to point out those political principles which regulated the conduct of the Scots wiih respect to their neighbors of England, and to foreign nations. The close of the fifteenth century is a most important era in modern history. The signal improvement of navigation by the Portuguese, who opened to Europe the commerce of the Indies — the rapid advancement of literature from the discovery of the art of |)rinting — and the revival of the fine arts — present a most ex- tensive field of pleasing and instructive speculation. We shall mark the effect of the Portuguese discoveries in awakening the spirit of enterprise, together with the industry, of all the Euro|)eiin nations ; and shall here introduce a progressive account of the commerce oj Europe down to this era, when it was vigorously and extensively promoted. We shall in like manner exhibit a view of the progress of European literature through the preceding ages of comparative barbarism, to the splendor it attained at this remarkable period. The consideration of the progress of the fine arts we postpone to the succeeding age of Leo X., when they attained to their utmost perfection. After a short survey of the northern states of Europe, which is necessary for preserving the unity of tl)e picture, the capital object of attention is the aggrandizement of the House of Austria, under Charles V.; intimately connected with the history of France under Francis I.; and incidentally with that of England, under Henry 'NIII.: a period meriting particular and attentive consideration from two events of the utmost moral and political importance — the reformation of religion in Germany and England, and the dis- covery of America. On this period is likewise thrown an addi- Uonal lustre from »!ie splendor of the fine arts in Italy. •After bestowing on dicse varied and interesting subjects the attention whirh thoy merit, the state of Asia, which, from the period of ancient history, had attracted occasionally only a slight CH. I.] Pr.AX OF THIS WORK. 13 degree of notice, becomes for awhile a jjriiicipal object of atten- tion. The empire of India, hij^hly iinportanl in modern times, the singnlarity of its political arrangements and national character, which have suflbred no change since the age of Alexander; the political and moral history of the Persians; the revolutions operated on that immense continent by the Tartar successors of Gengis-Khan, are all worthy of a jiarticular share of our consideration. Tiie estab- lishment of the Tartar pr nces on the throne of China calls our attention to that extraordinary monarchy, which, till this period, was almost unknown to tin nations of Europe. We shall here examine at some length the ground of those opinions which it has of late become customary to entertain, with regard to the prodigious antiquity of this people; their wonderful attainments in the arts and sciences; their alleged early acquaintance with the chief modern discoveries of the Europeans; and the boasted excellence of their laws, their government, and political economy. Returning to Europe, the object which, in the close of the six- teenth century, first demands our notice, is the reign of Philip II of Spain, distinguished by the revolt of the Netherlands, and the establishment of the republic of Holland. The constitution and government of the United Provinces merit here a brief delineation. France now takes her turn, and holds the })rincij)al place in the picture during the turbulent and distracted reign of Francis II., Charles IX., and Henry III., till we witness her happiness, tran- quillity, and splendor under the great Henry IV. The transition thence is easy to the era of England's grandeur and prosperity under his cotemporary Elizabeth. The aiTairs of Scotland, loo much connected at this period with those of the sister country, call our attention to the interesting reign of Mary, Queen of Scots, and the progress of the Reformation in that king- dom. Hence we pursue, without interruption, the outlines of the English history during the reigns of James I., of Charles I. — dur- ing the Commonwealth — and the subsequent reigns of Charles II. and .lames II. — to the important period of the Revolution. Here, after a connected sketch of the progress of the English constitution, and a particular examination of its nature at this great era, when it became fixed and determined, we close our delineation of the British History. But the afliiirs of the continent of Europe, at this time in a most active and progressive state, admit not of the same termination. We look back to France, which, under the splendid and politic administration of Rirhelieu, yet embroiled with faction and civil war, presents a striking object of attention. We remark the de- clension of the power of Spain under Philip III. and Philip IV., and Portugal in the latter reign shaking ofi' its yoke, and establishing an independent monarchy. We see the Austrian power attacked by the Swedes under Gu^tavns Adolplius, declining under Ferdinand II. and III., and humiliated by the peace of Westphalia, in which 14 U.NIVRR8AI. IIISTOJ.V. [dOOK 1 tlio FiriK |j anil Swedes gave laws lo the crupiic; a treaty, liow- cvcr, s.»luiary in ilie main, as seltliiig llic ruinous quarrels between her roiitendinj; princes. We see France, in the minority of Louis XIV., harassed with tne disorders of liic Fronde, originating in the unpo|)uIar adininis- iraiion of Mazarin. After his death, we remark the genius of Louis di:;|)I:iying itself in a variety of splendid enterprises; his views sceoniied hy tlie abilities of his ministers and generals; while the excellent order of the finances enables him easily to execute the most important designs. The opening to the succession of the Spanish crown, while it increases for awhile the glory of his arms, leads finally to the mortifying reverse of his fortune; and we behold the latter years of this memorable reign as unfortunate, as the former had been marked with splendor and success. Meantime, two rival powers of high celebrity call our attention to a variety of interesting scenes in the North of Europe. Russia, till now in absolute barbarism, becomes at once, by the abilities of a single man, a powerful and polished empire. Sweden, under the minority of its prince, ready to be torn in pieces by the powers of Russia, Denmark, and Poland, becomes, in a single campaign, the terror of the surrounding kingdoms. We see this prince, a second Alexander, in a career as short and as impetuous, carry those he- roic virtues which he possessed to an extreme as dangerous as their opposite vices. At this period we close our delineation of modern history, with a view of Lfie progress of the sciences, and of the state of literature in Europe, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Such is the plan to be pursued in the following Commentaries. Of the merits or defects of the arrangement, those who possess an extensive knowledge of history, and who have prosecuted that study to its best purposes, — instruction in political and moral science, — are best fitted to form a judgment. To the general reader, I trust it w ill at least be found to possess the qualities of simplicity and perspicuity. ^^'ith regard to chronology, it is necessary to remark that; without crr.ering into any discussion of the merits of the difTerent system-i, I have chosen to follow the chronology of Archbishop Usher, or that which is founded on the Hebrew text of the Sacred Writings; and this for the sole reason, that it has beei most generally adopted by the writers both of our own and c foreign nations. -en II EARLIEST AGES. 15 CHAPTER II. Earliest Ages of the World — Early History of Assyria — Of Egypt -Invasion i>l tlie Shepherd Kings. Profa:ve History, agreeing with sacred, joins in the establishment of this great truth, which reason itself, independently of authority, must have clearly evinced, that tiiis visible system of things which we term the Universe has had its commencement. All accounts of the early history of single nations trace them back to a state of rudeness and bai'barism, which argues a new and an infant establishment; and we must conclude that to be true with respect to the whole, which we find to be true with respect to all its parts. But to delineate the characters of diis early state of society, to trace distinctly the steps by which popula- tion extended over the whole surface of the habitable globe; the separation of mankind into tribes and nations; the causes which led to the formation of the first kingdoms, and the precise times when they were formed — arc matters of inquiry for whicji neither sacred nor profane history aflx)rds us that amplitude of information which is necessary for giving clear and positive ideas. But while we travel through those remote periods of the history of an infant world, making the best of those lights we can procure, we have the comfort of thinking that, in proportion as man advances from barbarism to civilization, in proportion as his history becomes use- ful or instructive, its certainty increases, and its materials become more authentic and more abundant. The Hebrew text of the sacred writings informs us that a period of 1G56 years elapsed between the Creation of the world and the Deluge. The Books of Moses contain a brief detail of the trans actions of that period, and are the only records of those ages. With regard to the state of the antediluvian world, speculative men have exercised their fancy in numberless conjectures. Vari- ous notions have been formed concerning the population of this globe and its physical appearance — jirobable causes conjectured of the longevity of its inhabitants — inquiries into the state of the arts — and theories framed of that process of nature by which the Almighty Being is supposed to have brought about the univer- sal deluge. These are, no 'doubt, ingenious and interesting spec-- ulations; but they can scarcely be said to fall within the depart- ment of history, of which it is the province to instruct by ascer- 10 UMVERSAt. IIISTOIIY. [bOOK I. taiucil f:ifts, aixl Dot to ainiisc l>y fiinriful theories. To lis, wlio uisli to (lciiv(! from liistory a knowledge of liiiiiian nature as it is nl present, and to study those important lessons which it furnishes *()r the ron(hi(t of life, it is of little consequence to know what was cither the physical or the political stale of the world before the deluge. As so entire a change must have been caused by that event on the face of nature, as totally to extinguish all traces of antediluvian knou ledge, and to reduce the world anew to a state of infancy, we are well assured that the manners, customs, arts, sciences, and political arrangements of the antediluvian asies could have had little or no influence on those which succeeded ihcm. Of the times immediately following the deluge, we have no other original history than that containcfi in the Books of Moses. The sacred w ritings inform us, that the family of Nonh established theni- sclves in the plain of Shinaar, w here they built the Tower of Babel, and that the confusion of their language caused their dispersion into the dillerenl regions of the earth. A view of the physical surface of this habitable globe, parted, as we observe it is, by those great natural boundaries, the chains of mountains, and the rivers which intersect it, affords the most con- vinciiiEj evidence that the carih was intended by the great Architect of all things to be peopled by various tribes and nations, who should be perpetually separated froin each other by those eternal barriers, whicli will ever prevent empires and states from perma- nently exceeding a just bound of territory. Without those natural boundaries, the limits of kingdoms must have been continually fluc- tuating; and perpetual discord must have embroiled the universe. An ambitious potentate may, with the accidental concurrence of fiu'orable circumstances, enlarge for a time the limits of an empire, beyond this just proportion; but the force of government and laws .•s weakened as its sphere is extended: and the encroachment being clearly marked and defined by those natural barriers, the lost terri- tory will scarcely fail to be regained ; and the revolution of a few years will again bring empires and kingdoms to their ancient limits. The physical nature, with respect to soil and climate, of the different countries into which the inhabitants of the earth were dispersed, must, in most cases, have determined their manner of life, and influenced the condition of society. If, before their dis- persion, mankind had made any progress in the arts, as, after that event, many of those wandering tribes must, from the nature of the countries which they occupied, have betaken themselves to the pastoral life, while others subsisted solely as hunters, the arts among them being totally neglected from finding no call to their exercise; it is no wonder that we observe, soon after the deluge, (he greater part of the nations in a state of barbarism, or little ad- vanced beyond that condition. Such of the original tribes, how- CH. II. J ASSYRIA. 1" ever, as, without any distant migration, had fixed themselves in the vicinity of their primeval scats, that is, on the borders of the Mediterranean Sea, very naturally retained and cultivated those arts of which their progenitors had been in possession. Thus, Nimrod, the grandson of Ham, the son of Noah, about 150 years after the dolua;e, is said to have founded Babylon; and Assur, the grandson of Noah, to have built the city of Nineveh, which be- came the capital of the Assyrian empire: but the Mosaic writings make no more mention of Nimrod, or of Assur, or any of their successors. Profane historians, on the other hand, make Belus the founder of Babylon, who is therefore supposed to have been the same with Nimrod. His son, Ninus, to whom those historians attribute the foundation of Nineveh, is said to have been the conqueror of India and Bactriana; and under him and his queen Semiramis, who reigned alone after his death, the Assyrian emj)ire is supj)osed to have attained a very high degree of splendor. The magnificence of Babylon and of Nineveh would indeed give immense ideas of the wealth and power of Ninus and Semiramis; but it is scarcely credible that Nineveh, in the time of its founder, and Babylon, under the son of its founder, should either have been splendid in themselves, or the empire very considerable to which they belong- ed. It is the conjecture of other historians, that Nineveh and Babylon, till the year 590 after the deluge, were separate mon- archies; that Ninus, who reigned at Nineveh, made the conquest of Babylon; and that the date of the Assyrian empire, properly so called, is to be fixed oi^ly at the union of these kingdoms. But these are discussions of more curiosity than importance, and we shall not enter into them. From the death of Ninias, the son of Ninus, down to tlic revoli of the Medes under Sardanapalus, there is an interval of 800 years, in which there is an absolute void in the history of Assyria and Babylon. The names, indeed, of the supposed sovereigns during that period are preserved, but there are no traces of historical events. Even the catalogue of the names of those princes appears suspicious, from their being taken from the Greek and Persian lan- guages; as, for example, Lamprides, Dcrcylus, Amyntas, Xerxes, Aramitres. This, however, is no conclusive evidence of forgery; since we know how common has been the practice of authors of translating pro))er names (such, at least, as have characteristic significations) from their original, into the language used by the historian.* By those who support the authenticity of this cata- " Among the modern writers, Buchanan and tlie I'resident I)e Thii\i liave eiifn.iUy impaired the utility of their excellent histories hy this most injudicious practice. It is true that the French and l^nijlisii terminations of proper names accord e.Tfremely ill with the Iiarmonious flow of classical Latin com|)osition ■ but this defect might in most cases be remedied bv simply giving iJiose nutiies VOL. I. 3 |g tMVi;U.SAI. HISTORY. [nOOK I (o^iie of llio Assyrian and Babylonish moiiarchs, the obsruriiy of iliclr rcipis lias been aitribuled to the indolonro, cfTcriiinacy, and (Icbatichcry in \vlii( Ii iboy were pl-mr^cd. This, liowevcr, is a weak snpposilion. It is ai^ainst all moral proliahilily that a great onipiro should have sul)sistc(l without a revolution for 800 years, iinclcr a series of dissolute, weak, and clTerjiinate monarchs. That iharacter in the prince is the parent of seditions, consi)iracie3, and rebellion among; the people, instead of p quiet and peaceable sub- j'jction; and, accordingly, we find that the kingdom of Babylon, till tlirn united with Assyria, shook off its yoke under the weak and dissolute Sardanapalus. If we are at all to form a conjecture of the state of the Assyrian em|)ire during this great chasm in its history, it must be a very difi'ereni one; namely, that it was gov- erned by a scries of wise, virtuous, and pacific princes, the uniform tenor of whose reigns have furnished no striking events for liie mouth of tradition, or for the pen of the historian. Besides the Assyrians, the Egyptians are the only nation of whom profane history, at this early j)eriod, makes any mention: but the commencement of their history is as uncertain as that of the Assyrians. Menes is supi)Osed the first king in Egypt, and according to the most probable theory, which connects the sacred with the profane history, he is believed to be the same person with Misraim, the grandson of Noah, whom there are likewise very probable grounds for supposing to be the deified personage whom the Egyptians venerated under the name of Oziris. Oziris is described aj the inventor of arts, and the civilizcr of a great part of the world. He raised, as we are told, a prodigious army, and oveiian Ethiopia, Arabia, and great part of India; appeared in all the nations of Asia, and, crossing the Hellespont, continued his progress through a great j)art of Europe. This extraordinary man disseminated the arts, built cities, and was universally revered as a god. Returning to Egypt, he was assassinated by his brother Typhon; but his death was revenged by his sister Isis, and his apotheosis solemnly performed. After Menes or Oziris, Egypt w;as governed by a succession of illustrious men, whom succeeding ages have characterized as gods and demigods. The country was tlien divided into four dynasties, — Thebes, Thin, Memphis, and Tanis; the inhabitants of which had njade great progress in civilization and the culture of the arts, when they were thrown back into a state of comparative barbarism by the invasion of the shepherd kings, a body of marauders from Ethiopia, who made a partition of the whole country, each of the chicis governing independently a separate province.* The do- a I.ntin trrminatinn. The disjrtiise is impenetrnble where the word itself is tttrniptrd to be tninshted. as PIriippus (Harry IloUpur,) Sopkocardhts (\Vi»- hart.'i Mfgalorrphitlus (Malcolm Canmore.) &c. • Mr. Bruce, iq his History of Abyssinia, has made it eilremely probable CH III ] STATE OF THE EARLY NATIONS l9 minion of these shepherd kings is said to liave subsisted ftn 259 years, when they were expelled by Aoiinsis, a prince of Upper Egypt, and forced to retreat with their adherents into the neigh- boring countries of Syria and Palestine. What space of time elapsed from the terminalion put to their dominion by the famous Sesostris, is absolutely uncertain; nor with regard to this prince, can we give any credit to those most hyperbolical accounts either of his foreign conquests or his domestic policy, and the wonderhil economy of his government. Yet, though we cannot easily be- lipve with Herodotus that the sovereign of a country which is said to have contained 27,000,000 of inhabitants, could effect an equal partition of all the lands of the empire among his subjects; nor with Diodorus Sicukis, that the same prince, v/ith an army of 000,000 men, and 27,000 armed chariots, traversed and subdued the whole continent of Asia and a great part of Europe, we may at least hold it probable that the Egyptians had a sovereign of the name of Sesostris, who distinguished himself iu those rude ages, both as a conqueror and a legislator. The reverence paid to the name of Sesostris by the ancient Egyptians, and the honors done to his memory as a great benefactor of his country, sufficiently prove the reality of such a personage. CHAPTER HI. On the nature of the first Governments, and on the Manners and Customs, Lawi Arts, and Sciences of the early Nations. Amidst the scanty materials of authentic history in those early ages of the world, it may alford matter of amusing as well as useful speculation, to consider what must have been the nature of the first governments; and to endeavor to discover the genius of the ancient nations from those traces of laws, manners and customs, arts and sciences, which are preserved to us, with the aid of such conjectures as are founded on a fair and jnst analogy. The rudest period of society is that in which the patriarchal that the shepherds who invaded Fjjvpt were a tribe from the Ahvssininn coast of the Red Sea, called lieni, who had become acquainted wilh I"tryi>l in the way of comtjierce, as the carriers of the Cashile merchants, and otiserviiig the weakness of the country, while they envied its wealth, subdued it, after three several inva- liions. — Hce Brure'e Tracds. 20 uMVKKSAi, iiisTony. | nooK i ^nvonunPtU tnkrs placo, or where tliere is no other siihordination know II ihiiii lh;it oMhe nieiiihers of a family to ihoir head or parent, liiil this simple form of soeiety can l)e of no lone; duration. Dis- sens.dns arisint^, and the more powerlnl families sidjduing the weaker, comhinations would naturally he formed to resist the enrroaehments of a covetous or amhitions patriarch ; and an union of interests woidd take place as the benefits of snch a compact would be felt alike for defence or for revenge, for conquest or for domestic secu- rity. Rut the authority of the j)atriareh, thus weakened in some resjieets by the control of a common ciiief, would not necessarily be extin2;iiished or destroyed. The family would become memher.? of a tribe or elan; but the father would still retain his authority over his children and his servants: the number of these would reiuler his power still considerable; and the chief cr king would always find it his interest to pay such deference to the principal patriarchs of his tribe, as to consult with them in all affairs whirh regarded the cointnon good.* We may, therefore, fairly presume that a limited monarchy was the earliest form of regular government among the ancient nations. The scrijjtures, as well as the profane historians, bear evidence to this fact. A republic is an idea too refined and too complex for a rude people to form: and despotic monarchies arise only after extensive conquests, and a great enlargement of empire. The first monarchies must have been very weak, and their terri- tory extremely limited. The sovereigns would be little desirous of extending thcni by conquest while the land supplied the wants of its inhabitants. Security is the first idea : ambition is long posterior, and takes place only when population is abundant, and increasing luxury demands increased supplies. In forming our notions of the power of the first monarchies we are apt to be misled by the word king^ which, in modern language and according to modern ideas, is connected with an extent of territory and a pro- portional power. Yet the Jewish annals, the most ancient of all histories, ought to have corrected such erroneous notions. Che- darloa'iier, the first who is recorded to have attempted a military expedition, was, together with three kings, his allies, defeated by the patriarch Abraham with three hundred and eighteen men of his own household. Nimrod is supposed to have been a mighty monarch. All that Moses says of him is, that he was a mighty hunter. The very idea of a hunter excludes the supposition of a powerful sovereign, or a great empire. It supjioses, what was certainly the case, that the earth was covered with forests, the receptacles of wild beasts, and consequently very thinly inhabited. A hunter-chief, in his excursions, might, no doubt, range over the • The PresidiMil (lopuot gives a very rational deduction of the origin of the first ffovornnifnU. and of the transition from the patriarchal subordination to the wtablisiiinenl of tlie monarchical form. — Origin of iMtrs, b. i. CH. HI.] STATE OF THE EARLY NATIONS. 2' extent of modern kingdoms and em[)ires; but what was liis pc wer. and who were his subjects.'' The control, and even that a very limited authority, over a few hordes or families who pitched their tents in a narrow valley in the midst of deserts, or occupied, per- haps, but a portion of that valley. A single town, or more pro- perly an encampment, was then termed a kingdom. There were five kings in the vale of Sodom. Joshua defeated thirty-one kings. Adonibezek, who died a little after the time of Joshua, boasted that he had defeated three score and ten kings, and mutilating their hands and feet, had made them gather their meat under his table. In those early periods the regal dignity was, in all probability, attained by the personal talents of individuals, on account of emi- nent services performed to their country; and, of course, the office of king was at first elective.* The jjrogress is natural from thence to a hereditary monarchy. The transmission of the throne to the heir of the last sovereign originated from experience of the mis chiefs arising from f equent elections, and the disorders occasioned by ambitious men asj)iring to that dignity. The dread of these evils, combining with the natural feeling of regard which a people entertains for the family of the man under whose government they have been happy, — the presumption that his offspring may inherit from nature, example, or education, the virtues of their father; all these circumstances would coilperate to render the kingly office hereditary: and such, therefore, we find from ancient history was the constitution of the earliest governments. The first ideas of coiiquest must have proceeded from a people in the state of shepherds, like the wandering Tartars and Scythians, who, necessarily changing their territory in quest of new pastures, would often make incuisions upon the fixed dominions of the culti- vated countries. And such was the condition of those marauders from Ethiopia, or perhajjs Abyssinia, whom we have already men- tioned under the name of shepherd kings, as havuig been the con(]uerors of Egypt. But monarchies or empires, thus founded oy the invasion of a rude and wandering people, could seldom be stable or permanent. An extensive monarchy is, therefore, a rare phenomenon not to be looked for in such a state of society. It presupposes a considerable degree of intellectual refinement, gen- * The account which Herodotus gives of the election of the first Uing of the Modes is indicative of the rise of iimnarchy in other rude nations. The .Medes, after their revolt from the Assyrians, were subject to all the disorders and miseries of anarciiv. An able man, of tl>e name of Dejoces, was extremely siieressrui in quietinir these disorders, and hy dc'o;rfes attained to murli inHiieiice and respect amonif his cnmtrvmen. Oppressed witii the fatigues with wlii(-li this voluntary duty was attended, Dejoces betook iiimsclf to retirement. The Medes now fidt tiie want of his authority, and, in a jreneral assembly of the poopio, it was unanimously resolved to invest their benefactor with the sovereign nower. — Herod, h. \.,c. d7, el seq. J".' UNIVKRSAf. MISTORV. [dOOK I t'ral Imhili* of order and subordination, niid a regular system of laws, nil which is the work of ages; nor will political regulations meet with any respect or obedience unless among a |)ooj)le thus refined and iMilightened, — a state of society far advanced beyond the rude condilion of shepherds or hunters. Advancement from barbarism to civilization is a very slow and gradlial process, because every step in that process is the result of necessity after the experience of an error, or the strong feeling of a want. These experiences, frequently repeated, show at length the necessity of certain rules and customs to be followed by the general consent of all; and these rules become in time positive enactments or laws, enforced by certain penalties, which are various in their kind and in their degree, according to the state of society at the time of their formation. Some political writers have supposed that during the infancy of society penal laws must have been ex- ceedingly mild, from the want of authority in government to enforce such as are severe. On the other hand, it may perhaps appear a more natural conjecture that rude and ferocious manners would incite to rigorous and cruel punishments, and that the ruder and more untractablc the people, the severer must be the laws neces- sary to restrain them. The strength of the violent passions which promjit to crimes in a rude state of society is to be curbed only by the severest bodily inflictions. Punishmentsvvhich operate by shame, or by restrakits upon liberty, would have little effect in a state of this kind. But the fact does not rest upon conjecture. History actually informs us that the most ancient penal laws were remarkably severe. By the Mosaic law, the crimes of homicide, adultery, incest, and rape were punished with burning, stoning, and the most cruel kinds of death. Diodorus Siculus notices the same spirit of severity in the ancient laws of the Egyptians. The first laws of the Athenians, framed by Draco, are proverbial for their cruelty. The earliest laws of the Roman state, at least those of the Twelve Tables, are full of the most severe punishments, and capital inflictions for altnost every offence. Caesar informs us that the Gauls burnt their criminals alive, in honor of their gods. When we contrast these authorities with the opinion of ilie ingenious Lord Kames, we perceive the danger of writing history upon theoretical principles instead of facts. Anion;; the earliest laws of all stales are those regarding mar- riage; for the institution of marriage is coeval with the formation of society. The progress is well described by the Roman poet: — " Inde rasas postqnam, ac pelles ijrnemqne pararunt, F.t inulier conjiincta viro concessit in unun\ Caslnque privattr veneris connubia ItEla Cognila sunt, prolomque ex sc videre creatam ; Tuni genus humanuin primuin mollescere ccepit. Lucrei. 1. ▼. 1009. And this we obscne is long prior to the formation of large com CII. Ill ] STATE OF THE EARLY NATIONS. 23 inunities.* It is not till the arts had inade some progress that met began to rear towns and cities. It is impossible to conceive society to exist without the care of children, which presupposes a rule for ascertaining ther.i The first sovereigns of all nations, therefore, are said to have instituted marriage; — Menes, the first king of Egypt; Fohi, the first sove- reign of China; Cecrops, the first legislator of the Greeks. The earliest laws of many civilized nations likewise provided encourage- ments for matrimony. By the Jewish law, a married man was for the first yeaP exempted from going to war, and excused from the burden of any public office. Among the Peruvians he was free for a year from the payment of all taxes. The respect for the matri- monial union cannot be more clearly evinced than by the severity with which the greater part of the ancient nations restrained the crime of adultery. In reality no moral offence is equally pernicious lo society. In the marriages of many of the ancient nations a custom j)re- vailed in many respects more honorable than the modern j)rac- lice. The husband was obliged to purchase his wife, cither by presents or by personal services performed to her father. When Abraham sent Eliezer to demand Rebecca for bis son Isaac, he charged him with magnificent presents. Jacob served seven years for each of the daughters of Laban who were given to him in marriage. Homer alludes to this custom as subsisting in Greece. He makes Agamemnon say to Achilles that he will give him one of his daughters in marriage, and require no present in return. That the same custom was in use among the ancient inhabitants of India, of Spain, Germany, Thrace, and Gaul, appears from Strabo, Tacitus, and many other writers; and the accounts of modern travellers assure us, that it prevails at this day in China, Tartary, Tonquin, among the Moors of Africa, and the savages of America. As Herodotus is not always to be depended on in matters that did not fall under his own observation, I know not whether we should give im])licit credit to what he relates of a singular practice which prevailed among the Assyrians, with respect to marriage, though it seems to have a natural foundation in the custom above- mentioned, which prevailed in most of the ancient nations. In every village, says that author, they brought together once in the y^ear all the young women who were marriageable, and the j)ublic crier, beginning with the most beautiful, put them up to auction, "After a fine dpscriptinn of tho first stages of savatrf life,wIion man liad smrcolr advanced beyond llie hriite, tlie poet says : — "Hut when they beiran to build iheii first rude liuts, to clothe themselves in skins, and had discovered the use of fire, when first one woman wag joined to one man in the chaste endearments of mutual love, and saw their own offspring risinjr around them,— then only did the ferocioui manners of the human race bejrin to sollen." 24 UNivKKSAi. iiisroiiv. [book I one after anotmr. The rich paid a high price Ajr ihosc whose figure seemed to ihciii the most agreeable; and the money raised hy the sale of these was assigned as a portion to the more liomely. VVhen it was llieir turn to be put up to sale, each woman was bestowed on tlie man who was wilh'ng to accept of her with the smallest portion; but no man was allowed to carry off ihc woman he had purchased, unless he gave security that he would take her to wife; and if afterwards it happened that the husband ff)r any cause put away his wife, he was obliged to pay back the money he IkkI received with her. The same author infornfe us that (he Assyrian laws were most strict in providing that women should be well used by their liusbands. The condition of woman is, in ail ages, a criterion of the progress of civilization and refinement of manners. In an early period of society, next in importance to the regula- tions of marriage, arc the laws which regulate the division of a man's estate after his death. Anciently, among most nations, the father of a family seems to have had the absolute power of dispo- sing of his effects in any manner he chose. Abraham bequeathed at his death his whole possessions to Isaac, though he had many other children. To these he had made some gifts during his life- lime. Jacob gave Joseph a portion above the rest of his brethren of the land he had taken from the Amorites. Job di\ ided his whole inheritance in equal portions among his sons and daughters. The history of Jacob and Esau, however, affords a proof that cer- tain rights and pri\ileges were attendant on primogeniture, as the control over the younger children, of which even the parent could not deprive his first-born; an authority which we learn from Homer and Herodotus was inherent in the eldest son, by the custom of the most civilized nations of antiquity. These laws, or rather consuetudinary regulations, which I have mentioned, it will be easily seen, must have arisen necessarily and imperceptibly from the state of society, rather than from any ex- press enactments, of politicians and legislators. It was not till agriculture had first established the distinction of property and increased its value, till the wants of man were multiplied, and arts and commerce were introduced to supply them, that the rights of individuals became complicated, and regular systems of laws, en- forced by pro|)er penalties, became necessary to secure and defend them. Hence we may perceive the connection between history and jurisprudence, and the lights which they mutually throw upor each other. The surest key to the interpretation of the laws of rountry is its history; and in like manner, where the history of a country is in any periods dark and uncertain, those obscuiities are best elucidated bv the studv of its ancient laws.* * Many laws cnntain in llioir preamble an explicit declaration of the political emcrjjcncy wliich required llieir enactuienl. The evil to Le remedied is par CH. III.] STATE OF THE EARLY NATIONS. 15 Tlie invention of writing is among the improvements of a society, where men have attained to a considerable degree of civilization ;* but long before such invention, the more important afi'airs even o' a rude society demand some solemn method of authentication. Contracts, sales, testaments, marriages, require a certain publicily and solemnity of transaction in order to enforce their observance ; and accordingly we find that among the early nations, or those which are yet in a state of barbarism, such affairs of importance are always transacted in public and before witnesses. Al)raham, in the presence of the whole people, concludes a bargain lor a place of burial for his wife Sarah. Homer, in his description of the sculpture which adorned the shield of Achilles, represents two citizens pleading concerning the fine due for a homicide. The cause is heard before the people, and both plaintiff and defend- ant appeal to the testimony of witnesses : — "There in the fonnn swarm a numerous train, The subject of debate a townsman shiin : One pleads the fine disoharired, which one denied, And bade the public and the laws decide : The witness is produced on eiliier hand: For this or that the [lartial jjeopie stand : Tir appointed heralds still tiie noisy l)ands, And form a ring witii sceptres in their hands. On seats of stone, within the sacred place The reverend elders paused upon the case; Aheruate each ill' attestintr sceptre took. And rising, solemn, each his sentence spoKC." Pope's Iliad, b. 18 Some of the northern barbarous nations use, at this day, a mode of authenticating contracts by symbols, which is a nearer approach to the solemnity of writing. After the agreement is made, the parties cut a piece of wood irregularly into two tallies ; each parly keeps one of these, and both are given up and destroyed wIkmi the bargain is fulfilled. A custom of this kind supposes a state of society where all agreements are of the simplest nalm-e ; for these tallies, though they might certify the existence of a contract, could never give evidence of its tenor. An invention somewhat more refined than this, and a))proacli- mg still nearer to writing, was the Peruvian qnipos, or cords of various colors, with certain knots upon them of different size, and differently combined. With these they contrived to accomplish most of the purposes of writing ; they formed registers which con ticularly specified. \n this view, such laws are in themselves a species of his tory. Other laws point out merely the state of manners, without reference to any particular facts; but attending to the period of time when those laws were enacted, sucij information is perhaps even of greater imporlunce than the other; for it supplies often what is either wanting, or but imperfectly to be gathered from the iiislorical annals of a nation. * On the origin of alphnhetic writing see a very ingenious and elaborate di» ■ertalioii ly M. Goguel. Orig. des Lan t. 1. liv. 2. c. U. VOL. I. 4 CG UMVF.nsAr. historv [ijook. i taiiuid ilio annals of tlKiir ompiro, llic state of the public revenues, the account of their taxes for the support of government, and bjr means of thcni they recorded their astronomical observations. One step farih^'r in this process is the expression of ideas by paintini;. W'lirn the S|)aniards arrived in Mexico, the inhabitants of the seacoasts sent intcllii^cnce to their emperor Montezuma, by n large cloth, on which they had carefully depicted every thing they had seen of the appearance and progress of the invaders. Some sjjecimens of the picture-writing of the Mexicans are to be *bund in Dr. Robertson's History of America. Among other nations the difliculty and inconvenience of this practice taught men to abriilge these signs ; to give, instead of a complete picture of the object, some characteristic part of it ; and by the addition of certain marks or strokes to make these pictures significant even of relations, qualities, passions, and sentiments. It is certain that by the hieroglyphical writing of the Egyptians was conveyed a great deal of complicated intelligence.* With regard to the use made by the Egyptians of hieroglyphical writing, there have been different opinions. It has been disputed, for example, whether the Egyptians employed them for communi- cating knowledge, or for recording it while they meant at the same time to conceal that knowledge from the vulgar. The President Goguet has endeavored to reconcile both opinions. "It is easy to prove," says he, " that the Egyptians used hieroglyphics at first, only to transmit the knowledge of their laws, their cus- toms, and their history to posterity. It was nature and necessity, not art and choice, that produced the several kinds of hierogly- phic writing. It was an imperfect and defective invention, suited to the ignorance of the early ages. The Egyptians used it be- cause they were ignorant of letters. Afterwards, when by inter- course with the Greeks the Egyptians learned the use of alpha- betic characters, they abandoned the hieroglyphic writing, which • "The liistory of the world," says Mr. Barrow. " afTords abundant evidence ttiat, in the dawn of civilization, most nations endeavored to fix and to per- pottiale ideas l>y painting the fijxures of the objects that produced them. Thl Bosipsmen Unttentnis, llie most wild and savage race perhaps of human beings, »re in the constint habit of drawins^ on the sides of caverns the represeiitationa of the different animals peculiar to the country. When I visited some of those caverns. I considered sunh drawinn:s as the emplnynient of idle hours: but on •ince reflectinjj that in all such caverns are also to be seen the figures of Dutch boors (who hunt these iiiiserable creatures like wild beasts) in a variety of atti- tudes ; some with jiuns in their hands, and others in the act of firing upon their countrymen ; wagons sometimes proceeding, and at others standing still, the oxen unyoked and the boors sleepinor ; and liiese representations generally followed by a number of lines scored like so many tallies; I am inclined to think they have adopted this method of informing their companions of the num- fter of their eneimes. and the magnitude of the danger. The animals represent- ed were generally such as are to be met with in the district where the drawings ap[>earcd ; this, to a people who subsist by the chase and by plunder, might «rve as another piece of important information." — Barrow s Travels in China p. i>4t;. CH 111.] STATE OF THE EARLY NATIONS. 27 soon ceased to be generally understood. It was then that the Egyptian priests, who like other learned men in rude ages sought to conceal and make a mystery of their knowledge, used the hiero- glyphic writing as a convenient vrii." But all those methods of recording or conveying intelligence which wei'e in use before the invention of alphabetic writings, were found extremely unfit lor two most important purposes; the record- ing of historical events, and the promulsation of laws. It was therefore nece-sary for the early nations to adopt some other me- thod of record and publication; and none other adequate to the imperfection of their knowledge and attainments was so suitable for those purposes as poetical composition. Poetry or song was therefore in all nations the first vehicle of history, and the earliest mode of promulgating laws; for nothing was found equally capable of striking with force the imagination, and impressing the memory. The earliest poetry of all nations is devoted to the celebration of the praises of their gods, and to the commemoration of the ex- ploits of illustrious heroes. When society has made some advance- ment, and laws are established to guard the rights and privileges of men, a legislator, observing with what avidity the songs of the bards are listened to; how universally they are circulated, and how tenaciously retained, judiciously avails liimself of the same vehicle for the publication of liis laws. Plato, in his J\finos, in- forms us, that the first laws of all nations were composed in verse and sung. Apollo is recorded to have been one of the first legis- lators, and to have published his laws to the sound of his harp, that is, set them to music. That this mode of promulgation was in use among the ancient Greeks, the word AV«o?, which signifies both a law and a song, is direct proof: and Aristotle, in his prob- lems, incjuiring into the reason of this conformity of names between two such diflerent objects, gives this express reason, that before the use of writing, it was customary to keep the laws in remem- brance by singing them; and this, according to the same author, was the custom of many different nations. The laws of the ancient inhabitants of Spain were all in verse; as were likewise the laws of Tuisto, the first legislator of the ancient Germans. Another mode of ]ireserving the remembrance of historical events was by visible monuments, which were comparatively rude or arti- ficial in their structure, according to the condition of society, or the age in which they were erected. Such are those heaps of stones raised as memorials of ancient battles, single unhewn blocks, or adorned with rude sculpture, expressive of the actions comme- morated; and in more polished times, columns, triumphal arches, and coins or medals on which writing and sculpture are united With respect even to the rudest of all monuments, the cairns or heaps of stones, or single unscnlptured blocks, the historical facts which they conimemoratefl wciuld long be preserved by tradition, for even a migration of the inhabitants of a country or its coloni- 28 l/.MVKKSAr, IIISTOUY. [liOOK I. zalion by a new race, would not be followed by a total loss of its history. The new settlers would anxiously inquire into ilie mean- ing of such tnonuTnenls, and preserve the tradition, as illuatrating the ancient hislory of that country which they had subdued. Coins and medals are the invention of a polished people, and are of singular use as the records of historical events. They have been justly termed portable monuments; and they have this ad- vantage over the most durable structures that were ever raiserl by human industry, that, as vast numbers were commonly struck of the same impression, they stand a much fainr chance of passing down to posterity; and even their being lost or buried in the earth ensures their |)reservaiion. Of such medals or coins even the spu- rious copies, though a fraud upon ignorant collectors and virluosij are of equuJ service with the original, for the purposes of the his- torian.* Among the earliest institutions of all nations are those which re- gard religious worship. The sentiment of religion has its oiigin in the nature of the human mind, or in those passions which are a part of our constitution. Let us conceive an infant thrown by some chance into a solitary desert, and there to have grown to manhood without intercourse with any other being of his own spe- cies; I think it is highly probable that such a person would form to himself some idea of a First Cause, or creative power, to whom he would refer the origin of himself, and of all he saw around him. Perceiving a settled order in the course of the sun and mo- tion of the stars, a regular vicissitude of day and night, and a stated return of seasons, his mind could not fail, to attribute that order and regularity to the operation of wisdom combined with power; and thus he would conceive some dark idea of a Being, who di- rected, in some distant region, the existence, the duration, the order and progress of all inanimate and animated nature. The idea fiVst conceived from the order and regularity of nature would be strengthened by every extraordinary occurrence; and the passion " Meduls are useful in explaining events which have been left doubtful by the iiistiirian, and they record many facts which history has omitted. Tiie his- tory of Piiliiiyr.i would have been almost unknown but for ihe researches of M. Vaillant, who, from the e.vistinof medals, has made out an entire chronicle of the kings of Syria. Medals are likewise eminently useful in ilhistraling ancient manners and customs; in preserving the figures of ancient buildings, arms, impleiuejits of tlie arts, modes of dress, &c.: not to mention the pleasure Ihev convey (a pleasure fuinded in the most natural and rational curiosity) in making us familiarly acmiainted with the features of the great men of antiquity. As actual monuments onthe fine arts, medals are entitled to great estimation. The sculptiirc of many of the ancient coins is superlatively beautiful; and they are supposed to exhibit on their reverses verv exact representations of celebrated •tatues and pnintinirs of antiquity which are now lost. Tiiis is rendered pr"b- able from the beautiful copies which we find on some of those coins of the cele- brated statues which are vet preserved ; as the J'crnis dr' Mcdiri. the Ilrrculcs Farnesf, and the Apollo Belralere. The progress of sculpture from its first rude commencement to its utmost perfi-ction, and its equally sensible corruption and decline, are illustrated by the bare inspection of inteark of trees, sewed together with the sinews of animal"., formed a light canoe. The strticliire and shape of these vessels were in imitation of the form of a fish. Tl)e head or prow was siiarp and coniral; a movable plank in the stern imitated the action of a fi-li's tail, and the oars or paddles srved the purpose of the fins in giving motion to the body; such canoes are u.sed to this day among the North American Indians. The President Goz'.iet has, with much ingenuity and industry, collected a great ma=5 of information relative to the origin of tlie arts among tlie nations of antiquity; and to his learned work I refer the reader who wishes further light on those topics. The art of agriculture is not practised till society is considerably advanced, and individuals have obtained a determined share in tha properly of the lands which they inhabit. It had its origin there- fore in those countries which are by nature most fertile, and which, producing abundance of food, made the inhabitants stationary, as they had no incitement to roam in quest of subsistence. The early historians attribute the origin of agriculture to kings; as to Menes or Osiris among the Egyptians, and Fohi among the Chi- nese: the meaning of which is no more than this: — that the first sovereigns, who, with their nation or tribe, occupied a fruitful coun- try and became stationary in it, establishing such regulations re- garding property in land as would secure individuals ifi their pos- sessions, mturally gave rise to the experiments of such proprietors to fertilize their grounds, to till, to sow, reap and store up their fruits, which a wandering savage would never think of or attempt. But while the useful arts are the offspring of necessity, and are therefore in some degree known and practised in the earliest pe- riods of society, the sciences, on the other hand, are less the pro- duction of necessity than of ease and leisure. Before the origin of the sciences, society must have made great progress. They pre- supposed au extensive and populous community, where individuals have either acquired such opulence from the successful cultivation of the arts, or from commerce, as to allow them the indulgence of that ease and immunity from labor which invites to study and speculation; or they must have been maintained for special pur- poses by the sovereign or by the community in such a situation This la.st was the condition of the priests; and, accordingly, we find that, among the Egv-ptians, one of the most ancient and early civi- lized nations, the priests were the deposiiaries of all the sciences. Aristotle informs us that the Eg}-ptian priests consumed the great- est part of their lime in abstract studies; and when Herodotus Diodorus, or Plato relate any fact with regard to the sciences in Egypt, they always inform us, that they received it from the mouths of the priests. Among the Babylonians too, the Chal- daans or Chaldees, who were their priests, and formed a body dis- tinct from the rest of the people, were chiefly occupied in the study of the sciences. The name C'/iaW(Efln, occurring very fre Cn. in./ STATE OF THE EARLY NATION'S .» » quentiy in Scripture as synonyinoiis with soothsayer^ shows the nature of tliose sciences which they chiefly cultivated.* It is not at all improbable that the frivolous and absurd science of judi- cial astrology, which has its origin in ijie prevailing passion ot the uninstructed mind to dive into futurity, was the first motive that led men to the attentive observation of the motions of the heaven- ly bodies : and consequently that superstition was \}\e parent of that useful and sublime science of astronomy. f It is certain that to those Chaldaeans or soothsayers the best informed authors of antiquity have joined in attributing the first astronomical discove- ries. According to Diodorus, they had observed the motion ol the planets ; they had divided the zodiac into twelve signs, anu each sign into thirty degrees ; and they had ascertained the precise length of the year very near to the truth. As an attention to their own preservation is the first care of mankind, we may naturally conjecture, that among those sciences to which in the early nations men would chiefly devote their at- tention, that of medicine would have a principal place. All sa- vage nations have a pharmacy of their own, equal in general to their wants. Luxury creating new diseases requires a jirofounder knowledge of medicine and of the animal economy. Savages are often eminently skilful in the knowledge of the virtues of plants in the cure of diseases, and are very dexterous in the treatment o!" wounds. But without the knowledge of the internal structure of the body, medicine can hardly deserve the name of a science. And we are certain that anatomy could only have been practised in an advanced state of society, when arts had attained a consider- able degree of perfection. The Jews, we know, in the days of Moses, used in some operations of surgery a sharp stone instead of a knife ; a certain proof that they could not have dissected a human body. AikI although the Egyptians practised very early the evisceration and embalming of bodies, we hear nothing of any attempts at anatomy till the age of the Ptolemies, after the time of Alexander the Great, when, as we learn from Pliny, those mo- narcjis established a medical school at Alexandria, and commanded dead bodies to be dissected, for the improvement of medicine and surgery ; a circumstance which seems to indicate that it was at that time a new practice. — But of the arts and sciences of this remarkable people, the Egyptians, as well as of their government, laws, and manners, I propose to treat more particularly in the next chapter. * Alllioncrh Clinldtra is the appropri;vle name of that retjion of Assyria in winch IJaliylon was situated, the term Chaldican was used, not only in Seriptu"c but bv the aiinient profane authors, to denote an astroloi^rr or sootfunn/rr. \ Kepler remarks, that astrolocry is the foolish daughter of a wise ni'ither'. 'let >t is more prohahle that the orenealojjy was just the reverse, — and that the n'lne d.atighter sprang from the foolish moUier. VOL. I 5 34 UNIVEUSAI. HISTORY CHAPTER IV. Or THE Egvptjans — Early Civilization — Tnunrlatirin of tlie Nile — Govern niiMit — F/aus — Manners — Arts — Obelisks ond I'yramids — Sciences — Phiioso- |>hii:al Opinions — Character. TuF, Egyptians are so remarkable a people, and boast of such extraordinary progress in civilization and in the arts, while the rest of the world was comparatively involved in darkness and igno- rance, that their early history deservedly claims a preferable share of attention to any of the cotemporary nations of antiquity. It is highly probably too, that from this people, as from a focus of illu- mination, most of the European nations have, by the natural pro- gress of knowledge, received a great part of their instruction both in the arts and in the sciences. The Egyptians instructed and enlightened the Greeks ; the Greeks performed the same benefi- cial office to die Romans, who, in their turn, instructing the na- tions whom they conquered or colonized, have transmitted the rudiments of that knowledge which the industry and the genius of the moderns are continually extending and advancing to perfec- tion. It is probable that the Egyptians were among the most early civilized of the nations of the earth ; and hence arises some ex- cuse for that vanity, which they possessed in common with most nations, of attributing to themselves a most prodigious antiquity. In the chronicles recorded, or more probably fabricated by Mane- tho, the Egyptian monarchy had subsisted before his time (300 years a. c.) for more than 100,000 years. Laying little weight on such extravagant computations, we may conclude with some reason, that at least they were a very ancient and early civilized people. It is evident from the books of Moses, that in the time '.f Abraham, about 4-30 years after the flood, Egypt was a popu- lous country, the scat of a very splendid and well-regulated mon archy. In the days of Jacob, we see further proofs of its civil! zation : the kingdom divided into departments or- municipalities ; ministers for state-affairs, with whom the sovereign held council ; prisons for the confinement of criminals, which argues a system of penal laws properly enforced ; a priesthood enjoying settled reve- nues ; a trade in slaves — all these circumstances indicate a grea advancement in civilization, and a proportional antiquity. M. Voltaire, who is frequently more fanciful tlian judicious ic CH. IV.] EGYPT 35 nis conjectures, and gives too much scope to theory in his historical writings, is inclined to question the common opinion of the anti- qiiity of the Egyptian nation; and imagines that the country of Egypt was not peopled till the neighboring African or Arabian iribes had made such advancement in agriculture and in the arts, as to regulate and turn to their advantage those periodical inunda- tions of the Nile, which, says he, must have rendered that coun- try uninhabitable for four months in the year. But here the theory is at variance with the facts. The periodical inundation of the Nile originally extended over a very narrow tract only of the coun- try of Egypt, nor wore its benefits at all considerable, till the art and industry of the people, by intersecting the adjacent lands with numberless canals, and making large reservoirs in the upper coun- try to let down the water through these canals, contrived to spread the inundation over a much greater extent of ground than it would naturally have covered. There never were any efforts made to restrain those mundations, which the Egyptians justly considered as their greatest blessing, and the source of their country's fer- tility. All their endeavors, on the contrary, were, and are at this day, to extend their effects over as great a portion of the land as possible. So far, therefore, from any argument arising from the nature of this country against the antiquity of its popu- lation, a very strong argument thence arises in favor of that anti- quity; for, where nature had done so much in fertilizing the banks of a fine river, and an easy method presented itself of ex- tending that fertility over all the level country, it is probable that there men would first form stationary settlements, and the art of agriculture be first practised, where nature so kindly invited them to second her operations by art and industry. And here it may be incidentally remarked, that the cause of the periodical inundation of the Nile has been satisfactorily ex- [)lained by Pliny (Nat. Hist. 1. v. cap. 9), and nearly in similar terms by Dr. Pococke. The north winds, says this writer, which begin to blow about the end of May, drive the clouds formed by the vapors of the Mediterranean to the souilnvard, as far as the mountains of Ethiopia, where, being stopped in their course, and condensed on the summits of those mountains, they fall down in violent rains, which continue for some months. The same winds likewise sensibly increase the inundation in the level country at the mouth of the river, by driving in the water from the Mediter- ranean. The increase of the river necessary to produce a season of fertility is from fourteen to sixteen cubits. If the waters do not rise to fourteen, according to the Nileometer, which is a stone pillar erected on the point of an island in the river between Geeza and Cairo, it is accounted a season of scarcity, and the inhabitants have a proportional abatement of their taxes; if they rise to six teen cubits, there is generally an abundant harvest. We have already observed that, without the aid of art, these inundation* 36 UNIVERSAL HISTORT [noOK I would !)(• confined to a narrow portion of the country, and in that case tlio lieiglit of the flood would be more prejudicial than serviceable. It is by the regulation and distribution of the waters by moans of numberless canals, which extend to a considerable rlistance, that the benefit of the periodical floods is rendered £oneral. AVhcn the inundation has attained its height, as marked jy the Nilcometer, a proclamation is made for the opening of these canals; and they are likewise shut by a similar order of gov- enmient when the season of irrigation is over. The earliest accounts of the Egyptians mention them as living under a monarchical government; and, as in most monarchies, the crown, probably at first elective, had soon become hereditary. The power of the sovereign, however, if we may credit the accounts of ancient authors, who, in the history of this people, have in many things palpably dis|)layed both exaggeration and lalsehood, was admirably limited by the laws, which even went so far as to regulate the stated employments of the prince during all the hours of the day. These notions, it must be owned, are not easily reconcileable with the ideas w^hich the same authors give of the despotic authority of those princes; of the luxury and splendor in which they lived; the superstitious veneration that was paid to their persons; and the abject slavery in which the lower ranks of the people were kept, whom the sovereigns, for the gratification of their own vanity, employed in the severest 'abor in constructing those immense fabrics which seem to have oeen reared for no other end tiian to excite the wonder of posterity. The cares both of civil government and of religion seem in Egypt to have been committed to the same hands. Besides the ordinary offices of government, a principal part of the duty of the monarch was the regulation of all that regarded religion. The priests, on the other hand, who formed a very numerous bodv, and had a third part of the lands allotted to them in proj)ertv, were not confined to the exercise of religious duties, but filled the highest offices in the state. They had the custody of the public records; it was their province to impose and levy the taxes; to regulate weights and measures; and out of their order were chosen all the magistrates and judges. The supreme national tribunal in Egyj)t was composed of thirty judges; ten from each of the three principal cities of Heliopolis, Thebes, and Memphis; and to these judges a solemn oath was administered on their entry upon office, that even the commands of their sovereign should not sway them in the execution of their duty. The administration of justice was no burden on the sub- jects; the tribunals were open to all ranks of the people, without expense of any kind; as no professional advocates were employed for the pleading of causes, and the judges, whose business it was to investigate and do justice, were supported at the expense of CH. IV.] EGYPT. *>* the State; a regulation having a considerable show of wisdom if obtaining in a small state at an early period of society, but evi- dently not adapted for an extensive and highly civilized commu- nity. The penal laws of Egypt were remarkably severe. Whoever had it in his power to save the life of a citizen, and neglected that duty, was punished as his murderer; a law which we must pre- sume admitted of much limitation according to circumstances. It appears to have been from the same motive of preserving the lives of the citizens, that if a person was found murdered, the city within whose bounds the murder had been committed was obliged to en)balm the body in the most costly manner, and bestow on it the most sumptuous funeral. Perjury was justly held a capital crime; for there is no offence productive of more pernicious con- sequences to society. Calumniators were condemned to the same punishment which the calumniated person either had or might have suffered, had the calumny been believed. The citizen who was so base as to disclose the secrets of the state to its enemies, was punished by the cutting out of his tongue; and the forger of public instruments or private deeds, the counterfeiter of the current coin, and the user of false weii:;hts and measures, were condemned to have both their hands cut off. The laws for the preservation of the chastity of women were extremely rigid: emasculation was the punishment of him who violated a free woman, ajid burning to death was the punishment of an adulterer. The President Goguet ranks among the penal laws of the Egyptians a singular regulation of policy which is mentioned by Diodorus. It is generally known how much the ancients con- cerned themselves with regard to the disposal of their bodies after death. To be deprived of funeral rites they considered as one of the greatest calamities. The Egyptians did not, like most other nations, consign the bodies of the dead to destruction; they pre- served them by embalming, and celebrated their obsequies with extraordinary solemnity. But these fune al honors were never bestowed unless in virtue of a solemn and judicial decree. A ^ourt com|)osed of forty judges granted their warrant for every niuf-Mal. The character of tlie deceased was rigorously investi- gated, and if any criminal or improper conduct was proved, the customary honoi's were refused to him. If his life had been vir- tuous and exempt from all blame, a public panegyric was pro- nounced on his memory, and permission was granted for the usual embalming and obsequies. The most singular and at the same time the most admirable circumstance attending this custom, was, that the sovereigns themselves, though venerated during their lives with an almost superstitious regard, which forbade all scrutiny into their actions, were yet after death subjected to the same rigorous and Miipartial inquest with tlie meanest of their subjects; and Diodorus assures us that some of the Egvptian kings had been 428343 ^S UNIVr.RSAI, HISTORV. [bOOK I deprived of funeral obsequies, and tlieir memories tlius consigned In iiifainv, by ihe judgment of tbat solemn tribunal. Among llic most remarkable laws of ibe Egyj)tians was lliat of Amasis, wliicli ordained every individual to appear annually beforfl a particular magistrate, and give an account of bis profession, and ibe manner iu wbicli be acquired bis subsistence. A cajjital punisl'iment, it is said, was decreed against tbc person wbo could not sbow that he procured bis living by bonest means. We sball observe a similar institution in treating of tbe Athenian republic. Tbe unnecessary contracting of debts was likewise restrained in Eg}pt by a singular and very laudable regulation. Tbe debtor was obliged to give in pledge the embalmed body of bis father, to remain wiih the creditor till the debt was discliarged. He who died without redeeming this sacred pledge was deprived himsolf of funeral obsequies. The population of Egypt was encouraged by many salutary laws. The exposing of infants was restrained by the severest penalties. A man was obliged to rear and educate not only the cliildrcu born to him in a state of marriage, but to acknowledge for legitimate, and maintain, all the children he had by his slaves or concubines. Homicide was punished with death, even when committed on a slave. The manners of the Egyptians were very early formed. We find the greatest part of those customs which are mentioned by Diodorus, Herodotus, and others of the ancient historians, to have been common at the time when Joseph was carried into Egypt. This people, according to the testimony of all antiquity, discovered a great constancy of national character, and a singular attachment to their ancient manners and customs. But these underwent a remarkable change in the time of Psammeiicus, who began to reign in Egypt 670 years before the Christian era. This prince opened the ports of Egypt, both on the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, to all strangers, and gave particular encouragement to the Greeks to settle in his dominions. He assigned them portions of land in die country, employed some learned men among them to instruct the Egyptian youth in the Greek language, and endeavored bv every means to overcome that illiberal prejudice which b.ad hitherto kept this people sequestered from all other nations. Such, likewise, was the policy of Amasis, who reigned about a century after Psammeticus, and who, as he may properly be considered the last, so he was one of the wisest and the best of the Egyptian monarchs. It was in the reign of bis son Psammenitus that Cambyses overturned this ancient monarchy, and reduced Egypt into a province of the Persian empire. But here we are antici- pating the order of events. It is the strte of Egypt, the attam- ments and the manners of the nation before its conquest and reduction, tbat we are at present considering. We must regard the ancient Egyptians as the earliest nation en. IV.] F.GVPT 39 whom history assures us with certainty to Iiave made any progiess in those arts which conduce to the luxuries or elegancies of life. They understood very early the use of metals, both in the fabrica- tion of serviceable utensils, in ornamental decorations, and in the coining of money as a medium of commerce. Of this we have abundant evidence both from the sacred and jirofane historians. The science of archi;ecture was early brought to great perfec- tion in Egypt. The antiquity of those immense structures which yet remain in that country is extremely uncertain. It seems peculiar to the climate of Egypt, that time appears scarcely to make any sensible impression on those monuments of human industry. The cause is plausibly assigned by De JMnillet, in his Description de VEgijpU. Rain and frost, says that author, which in other countries are the destroyers of all the works of art which are exposed to the air, are utterly ifnknown in Egypt. The structures of that country, its pyramids and its obelisks, can sustain no injury unless from the sun and wind, which have scarce any sensible effect in wasting or corroding their materials. Some of the Egyptian obelisks, which are supposed to be more ancient than the pyramids, and consequently above 3000 years old, are entire at this day : one in particular may be seen at Rome, which was trans])orted thither by Augustus, and which Pliny says was supposed to be older than the time of Scsostris. Those immense masses, consisting of one entire block of granite, were hewn in the quarries of Upper Egypt, whence they were conveyed by water to the place where they were to be erected. The contrivance for transporting them is described by Pliny, and is equally simple and ingenious. The Nile runs near to the base of those mountains where the quarries are situated. A canal was cut from the river to the spot where the obelisk lay, and made to pass under it, so as to leave the stone supported by its two extremities resting on either bank of the canal. Two broad boats were then loadeil with a great weight of stones, so as to sink them so deep in the water as to allow them to pass freely under the obelisk : when imn>e- diately under it, the stones were thrown out ; the boats, of conse- quence, rose in the water, and bore up the obelisk, which thus passed along the canal into the Nile, and was thence guided by other canals to the place where it was to be erected. Of the purpose for which these obelisks were reared we can onlv form conjectures, as the ancient writers give us no information. It has been supposed that they were intended to serve as gnomons for astronomical purposes, or to determine the length of the solar vear by the measure of the meridian sharlows : but their situation upon uneven ground, and the number of them, sometimes three or four erected in the same place, give no countenance to that idea. Plinv indeed tells us that one of the Egyptian obelisks which w^s brought to Rome and placed in the Campus Martins, was ajiplicvl by Augustus to serve the purpose of a gnomon to an innnense sun- 40 UNIVf.USAI. IIISTOUV. [llOOK I ilial, whiili was cngravLMi on a level pnvciiunit of stone at the base of tlie obelisk ; but as be terms this a new and admirable use of the obelisk, we must tbonce infer that it was dillerent from their orij;inal purpose, which was probably to rommemorate or record eitiier |)ublic events in the history of the nation, or to be registers of the seasons as allected by the periodical inundations of the Nile. The whole country of Egypt abounds with the remains of ancient maiiiiificence. There is reason to believe, that Thebes, in Ui)per Kgypt, was, at the time of the Trojan war, one of the most oi)ulent and best-peopled cities in the universe. The ancient authors assure us that no city in the world ecpiallcd it in orna- mental buildings. Diodorus mentions in particular four temples, the largest and most ancient of which remained at the tinie when he himself was in Egypt (about a. d. 20) and was half a league in circumference. Its hundred gates mentioned by Homer, which could each send out 200 horsemen and chariots, is a bold poetical exaggeration; but if the ruins, yet visible at Luxor, as described by Pococke, Granger, and later travellers, are, as they have been generally supposed, the remains of Thebes, they give very high ideas of the extent and magnificence of that ancient city. The pyramids in the neighborhood of Memphis have been by some authors assigned to the age of Sesostris; but this era, which is itself extremely uncertain, is, according to all probability, much too early for the date of those structures. There is ground to Delie\e that they did not exist in the age of Homer; for that poet, who frequeiitly mentions Egypt, and is fond of relating singulari- ties of that country, says nothing of the pyramids, and makes no mention of Memphis, though that city lay in the direct way to Thebes. Artstotle has made this observation; and it has hence been inferred, with much probability, that in the age of Homer those stupendous fabrics cither did not exist or were but just building. Homer, according to the most probable authorities, lived about 900 years B. c., which brings the date of the pyramids, if then building, nearly to the age assigned them by Diodorus. But neither the age nor the builders of those structures are known with any degree of certainty; a just reward, as Pliny well reniarks, of the vanity of such undertakings. The description of those remarkable monuments has been given by many travellers. A more curious investigation would be to discover the manner in which those immense piles were reared, as well as the j)urpose for which thev were erected. The first, however, does not fall within the province of a work of this nature: I content myself, therefore, with observing, that the PresitkMit Goguet, in his Origin of Laws, vol. iii., has given a very plausible and curious account of the construction of the pyramids, resting chiefly on the authority of Herodotus, to which I refer tbe reader.' On the second* head, it may be remarked, that the Egyptians CII. IV. J EGYPT 41 entertained the belief lliat deatli did not sejjarate the soul from the body, but that the connection remained as long as the latter con- tinued entire and unconsumed. It was, therefore, their utmost care to preserve the carcasses of the dead from the natural decay from corruption, as well as from accidental violence. Hence the practice of embalming the dead, and of depositing them in jjlaces secured from all injury. The bodies of the rich were preserved at a vast expense by taking out the corruptible viscera, filling the cavity with the strongest and most costly spices and unguents, wrapping them round in numberless folds of linen, impregnated with resinous substances, incrusting them with thick coats of paint, and lastly, casing them in thick boxes of die most durable species of wood. The bodies of the inferior classes of the people were simply injected with some composition which exsiccated the en trails and fleshy parts, and were covered over by a cheaper and simpler process, with some resinous substance which excluded the air. From a custom already mentioned, regarding the pledging of these mummies as a secuiity for debts, it would appear that it was the practice to keep them unburied at least for the course of one generation. After that period, they were deposited in caverns, dug in dry and rocky situations, of which they concealed the entrance with the utmost care and artifice of construction. The sovereigns, who could command the labors of their subjects, thought they could not employ them better than in building such repositories for their bodies after death as should be jiroof against the injuries of time, and even in some measure set human malice at defiance; for the demolition of a pyramid, considering the immense blocks of stone of which it is formed, would be a work attended with such labor and difficulty, that no ordinary motive could prompt to it.* * The larirest of the pyramids is an equilateral square, of which each side measures at li>c base (iiKJ r>nglish feet. The stones, of which it is composed, are many of them 'M) feet in lenirth. 4 in heiirht, and 3 in l)readth. Tiie super ficial contents of tiie area are 4c((.'.i4!) feet, or somethinir more than II Ena^lish acres. The heifrjit of the pyramid is 4dl feet, which is about the height of the top of the cupola of St. Paul's church in I,oiid.)n. It rises from the t>:ise to the apex in steps of near 4 feet in heiirht, and the summit is a square |)latform of 13 feet, composed of 10 or I'i massy stones. This form of constructiim in tlie manner of steps was probably given to the building that it might receive a' coaling of marble, by laving upon each step a block of a j)rism!itical form, .vhich would thus brinir tiie exterior of tlie building to a smooth surface, which is the appearance of most of the smaller pyramise pyramids were once huge rocks, standing where they now are ; that some of tht-m, tho most proper from their form, were chosen for liie body of the pyramid, and the others hewn down into steps, to serve for the superstructure, and the exterior parts of them." — Bruce' s Travels inU Egij}>t ""!>.'> b. c. See Kzek. c xxvii. and xxviii., where the wealih and commerpe of Tyre are described in very glowinjr colors, and tlie par iiculars of iu trade and manufactures minutely specified CH VI. J THE GREEKS. 51 and the other of emerald, which in the night-time rhone with great splendor. The latter was probably of colored glass, as we have ihe authority of Pliny for attributing to the Phoenicians the inven- tion of the making of glass; and M. Goguet conjectures, with some plausibility, that the column was hollow, and was lighted by a lamp put within it. Tlie Tyrian purple is celebrated by all the ancient authors. The color was the pure juice of a particular kind of shell-fish, and being produced in very small quantities, came thence to be of great value. The moderns are not unac- quainted with the fish, but make no use of it, as a richer color "3 produced at much less expense from the cochineal insect. The Tyrian merchants were probably the first who imported to the Mediterranean, and thence into Europe, the commodities ol India. They wrested from the Idumeans some commodious ports upon the Arabian Gulf, from which they had a regular intercourse with India; and having occupied Rhinocorara in the Lower Egypt, which is the nearest port in the Mediterranean to the Ara- bian Gulf, they had a short and commodious land carriage for their Indian merchandise, till it was thence re-shipped, and con ^'eved to Tyre.* CHAPTER VI. The Grecian History. — Earliest period of the History of Grocco — The Titans — Cecrnps — Chronicle of Paros — Areopagus — Dchijre of Deucalion- Council of the Ainpliictyons — Cadmus — Introduction of Letters. The History of Greece presents to an inquisitive mind a various and most instructive field of speculation; and happily, from that period when its annals become truly important, its history has been written by very able authors. The early antiquities of this coun- try are, it is true, so disguised with fables, thai it is extremclv dif- ficult to discover the truth. Yet, in order to understand and |)rofit by the classical writers, especially the poets, it is necessary to have some acquaintance even with those fables; and we know with considerable precision the period when they cease to mix themselves with facts, and when authentic history commences. * See a clear and rational account of the origin of the trade between F.gypt, Arabia, and India, in Brucc's Travels, b. ii. ch i. 52 UNiv'KRSAr, msToitv. [book i This resj)crliil)le people was not free from the conitiion vanity of iK'.tions, of aitrilnilinj;; to itself a measure of antiquity far be- yond all hounds of probahility. The Athenians, indeed, in term- ing themselves AvTo/Ooft::^ seemed to claim for their own nation an antiquity coeval with the formation of the earth; which was just as allowable as the boast of the Arcadians, that they were ruioijhhjroi^ ov oldtr tlicin the moon. But whatever was the origin of the ancient inhai)iiants of this country, it is certain, that till civili/.ed in some measure by colonies of the Eastern nations who settled among them, they were in a state of the rudest barbarism. The aboriginal Greeks, under their various denominations of Pe- lasgi, Aones, Iliantes, Leleges, &c., were a race of savages who dwelt in caverns, and are said to have been so barbarous, as to live without any subordination to a chief or leader, to have fed on human flesh, and to have been ignorant of the use of fire. The most ancient colony from the East that are said to have establish- ed themselves among these barbarians are the Titans, a band of adventurers from Piioenicia or the adjoining coasts, who are gen- erally supposed to have come thither about the lime of Abraham. We have already seen that the Phcenicians were at this time a commercial people, trading to all the coasts of the Mediterranean; but it is evident tiiat no views of commerce could have been their inducement to settle among a race of savages. It seems therefore probable that the fertility of the country had attracted those stran- gers thither, and that, availing themselves of those advantages which their superior knowledge and improvements gave them over the rude inhabitants, they, partly by policy, and partly by conquest, made themselves masters of the country. At all events, it is uni- versally allowed that, from the period of those strangers settling among them, the Greeks assumed a new character, and exhibited m some respects the manners of a civilized nation. The dawn- ings of a national religion began to appear; for the Titans were a religious people. They taught the savages to worship the Phoe- .nician gods, Ouranos, Saturn, Jupiter, &c., who were nothing more than deified heroes; and" by a progress of ideas not unnat- ural, this rude people confounded in after times those gods with the Titans who introduced them. The feats and achievements of the Titans, and those wars which had taken place among them, were believed to have been the exploits and wars of the gods. Hence sprung the greatest part of the Greek mythology, and the numberless fables regarding their gods and demi-gods. The Titans seem to have been a turbulent people; they weak- ened themselves by their incessant quarrels and hostile conflicts, and at length entirely extirpated each other. The last of the race was Inachus, who is looked upon as the founde: of the kingdom of Argos. The city of Argos was built 1856 b. c, by his son Phoroneus, and the kingdom of Sicyon founded by another of them. Contemporary with him was Ogyges, king 'of Attica, ic OH VI. CECROPS. 53 whose time, about 1796 b. c, is said to have happened that remarkable inundation which goes by the name of the Dehige ot Ogyges. As from the time of Ogyges to that of Cecrops there is no series recorded of tlie kings of Attica, nor any connected history of that period — this ciiasm in tlie annals of the nation has been by some writers ascribed to the ravages of that deluge, by which it is said the country was depopulated, and lay waste for above two centuries; but this fact is not supported by any proofs, while on the other hand, the best-informed authors regard the deluge of Ogyges as nothing more than a partial inundation from an extra- ordinary overflowing of the lake Copais, in Boeotia, which over- spread but a part of the low country, while the rest continued to be inhabited. This emergence of the Greeks from barbarism, which they owed to the Titans, was only of very short duration. They soon relapsed into their former savage state; a circumstance which ac- counts, without the aid of a deluge, for the total silence of the his- tory of this people for a period above 200 years, till they were again illuminated by another colony of strangers from the eastern shores of the Mediterranean. At the head of this second colony was Cecrops, who, above 15S2 years b. c, is supposed to have landed in Attica, where there was a species of government under Acteus, but so feebly enforced, that tlie whole country was the prey of pirates and robbers. It was pillaged on the land side by the (Eones, a people of Boeotia, and by the Carians on the quarter of the sea. Cecrops marrying the daughter of Acteus, succeeded to the sovereignty, and taught his subjects the most effectual way of resisting those violences, by associating together in small commu- nities, and thus uniting their strength. He built several cities in Attica, and is celebrated as an able politician and legislator. Cities we may suppose were, at this time, a collection of huts like an Indian village; and political regulations extended no further than f-o enforce obedience to the chief, and union among the tribe; to define property, and to give ft some small degree of security. Dark ;ind uncertain as the history of Greece is at this period, ive must observe that it begins to have a degree of authenticity from a very singular and venerable njonument of anti(piity, the Chronicle of Paros, which is preserved among the collection of marbles brought from Smyrna by the Earl of Arundel, and now the pro|)erty of the University of Oxford. This Chronicle of Paros contains a j)recious memorial of history and of chronology, and fixes the eras of many facts left uncertain by the Greek writers. Not, however, that it can be pretended that there arises from this chronicle the same certainty that would arise from particular records coeval with the facts; for this monu- ment is only the testimony of an author relating facts which had happened many ages before his own time. But, in the first ))lace, he is a very ancient author; and, secondly, his chronicle being 61 UNIVF.USAI. IIISTOUV. [bOOK I recorded on marble, it is piobable that it was cut by public aii tliority, and upon the evidence of anterior monuments. A proof of its antitpiiiy arises from the circumstance of die dates being markeil by a very ancient method of numeration, which Ilerodiart iiicniions as being in use among the Greeks in the early ages. The numerical letters, instead of proceeding in the order of the alphabet, are the first letters of the numerical word; as 7/ for ll'vif^ five; -J for ^^x^t^ ten — &c. An argument of the veracity and auth(;nticity of the chronicle arises from this circumstance, that in the whole course of events there recorded, there is no particular which has the air of fiction. It was the poets only who intermixed history with fable; the genuine monuments of history seem to have been preserved pure and unadulterated, making allowance only for what the credulity of rude and ignorant times might .-idopt for truth, and which increasing knowledge has rejected as faljnlous. In this chronicle we have the era and duration of the siege of Troy, but none of the marvellous circumstances with which that event has been embellished by Homer. Mention is likewise made of Ceres, of Hercules, of Mars, and Neptune, but no fabulous ex- j)loits are recorded of them. A great deal of authority seems, therefore, deservedly due to this chronicle, which marks the dates of the principal events of the Grecian history, from the reign of Cecrops down to the age of Alexander the Great. Time and accident have mutilated both the beginning and the end of this monument, from which, if entire, we might probably have learned both the precise time when it was constructed, and the evidence of anterior monuments from which the dates were taken; but of these important circumstances we must be content to remain in ignorance. Resting, then, upon the authority of this venerable monument, we may credit all the principal fiicts which are recorded even in the earliest part of this period; while we receive with a proper degree of skepticism those circumstances detailed by the ancient writers which have the air of fable, and which are not to be found in this chronicle. Cecrops died childless, and was succeeded by Cranaiis, an Athenian, in whose time happened two remarkable events, both recorded in the Chronicle of Paros — the judgment of the court of Areo|)agns, between Mars and Neptune, two princes o'^ Thessaly —and the Deluge of Deucalion. Ilallirothius, the son of Neptune, had violated Alcippe, the daughter of Mars, and her father put him to death in revenge for the injury. To avoid a war which would have ensued between these princes on occasion of this quarrel, their ditlerence was sub- mitted to the judgment of the Areopagus, which decreed that the revenge of Mars was justified by the outrage which he had sus- tained. This celebrated tribunal had been instituted by Cecrops, and soon arose to such reputation, that strangers and even the CH. VJ.] DELUGE OF DEUCALIOV. 55 sovereigns of other countries, someiinies submitted tlieir most im portJint differences to its decision. The number of its judges is variously reported by historians. Some writers have limited it to nine; others have enlarged it to thirty-one, and some to fifiy-one: whence it is probable that the number has been different at different periods. They were chosen from among the wisest and most respectable of the citizens, and, in the latter times, consisted principally of such as had enjoyed the dignity of archons or chief magistrates. They helil their meetings in the open air, upon an eminence in the middle of the city, and determined all causes during the night; for these two reasons, as Athena'us informs us, that neither the number nor the faces of the judges being known, there might be no attempts to corrupt them; and that, as they neither saw the ])lnintiff nor defendant, their decisions might be quite imj)artial. To these reasons the Presi- dent Goguet adds a third, that as they sat in the open air, their proceedings would have been constantly embarrassed by the crowd which would perpetually have attended them, had they met in the day-time. Of the powers of this high tribunal, and the nature of Its jurisdiction, I shall treat more particularly when I come to con- sider the constitution of the Athenian republic. The other remarkable event whif.h distinguished the age of Cranaus, the successor of Cecrops, was the Deluge of Deucalion. There is no event more celebrated in antiquity than this remarka- ble inundation. Deucalion is feigned by the poets to have been the restorer of the human race, and was in all probability the parent stock of a very numerous progeny in Greece. But the deluge which happened in his time was certainly nothing more than another partial inundation, like the deluge of Ogyges, caused by the overflowing of some of the Thessalian rivers, probably the Peneus. That this deluge was only partial is proved by this fact, that the succession of the sovereigns in the different states of Greece preceding the age of Deucalion is preserved, as well as the series of those who came after his time. History shows no chasm in the succession of the kings of Argos, Athens, or Sicyon, which must have taken place had the deluge been universal. The Chronicle of Paros ,2;ives its aid in confirmalion of this idea; for it records that Deucalion, after escaping from the flood, retired to Athens, where he sacrificed to Jupiter Phryxius. The poets have embellished this event with a variety of circumstances ex- tremely similar to those we find in the Mosaiac accounts of the uni- versal deluge; but this proves no more than that these authors had either seen the sacred writings, whence they had borrowed those circumstances, or else that the tradition of that great event being very generally diffused, they had applied its circumstances to an .nundation which was merely topical, and long posterior to the other, though still a very ancient event with reference to the age in which those authors wrote. Those partial inundations were SS u.Mvr.nsAt, MisToFtv. [nooK i nxlrciiit'ly coinnion in Grecfo. Xciioplion reckons no less thaxi five of llifiii, iiiiil Diodonis Siculus lueiilious a sixth, posterior lo those cmiineraiod hy Xciiophon. Coiitrinponiiy uith Craiiaus was Amphietyoii, who reigned at Thermopylae', — a prince of great and coinprchensive views, if in reality Greece owed to him that excellent political insiitut'on of ihe conncil of the Amphictyons; bnt I should rather incline lo be of another opinion. The state of Greece was at this time so rude, and tiie country broken into so many independent sovereignties, that we can hardly suppose any single prince to have had sufli- cient induence to bring about a league of twelve states or cities with their dependencies, and to make them adopt one common interest. The institution was cerlaiidy ancient, but more pnjba- bly owed its origin to some national emergency which made the northern districts of Greece sensible of the necessity of combining their power and uniting their interests. The name Aiiqixjims;^ accordingly to its original orthograj)hy, makes this conjecture, which is the notion of Suidas, more probable. It is more natural to suppose the council was so named as being composed of depu- ties from all the cities around, than that it took its a|)pel]ation from a prince of the name of Amphictyon, of whose history we know nothing else than this alleged remarkable fact. The states united in this general council were the lonians, among whom were comprehended the Athenians; the Dorians; the Per- iKtbians; the Boeotians; Magncsians; Achaeans; Ptiiians; Melians; Dolopians; iEnianians; Delphians; and Phocians. They met twice in the year at ThermopyhT, and afterwards at Delphi; two deputies attcndins from each state; and in their deliberations and resolutions all were on a footing of equality. Limited at first to twelve separate republics, this council came afterwards to include the whole of the Grecian states, according as the principal or lead- ing republics acquired territories belonging to any of the Amphic- lyonic cities, and thus came to have a voice in the general council. Thus the Ijaceda^monians becoming masters of the territory of Doris, had their deputies in this council, from which in their own right tliey were excluded. Hence the assembly of the Amphic- lyons, from being at first a partial league of twelve cities, became a convention of all the states of Greeee. The deputies sent thither represented the body of the people, and had full powers to dt li- berate and to form resolutions on all that regarded the common interest of the combined states.* The princip e of this association • Tlie nafiire of the powers supposed to be resident in this council, and the (frievaiires aorninst which it was intended chiefly to provide a remedv. nnv be gathered from the oath taken by the deputies, as we find it recorded in the orntiiin of .F.srliines dr Fula. I^irnt.: — '• I swear that I will never subvert any Amphicfyonic city : I will never stop the courses of their water, either in war kr peace. If any such outrages should be altempled, I will oppose tliem bj C!I. VI.) CADMUS. 61 cannot be sufficiently commended. It made all the leading men of the several states o*" Greece personally known to each other, and led to a communication of every sort of knowledge and im- provement. It had a powerful effect in civilizing a rude nation, and repressing those petty feuds between its separate cantons, and that encroaching and predatory spirit, so common in such a state of society, and so hostile to all advancement and general prosperity. Without some such bond of union, Greece, from the nature of its separate governments, could never have formed a considerable power in the scale of the nations of antiquity, nor ever have withstood the force of such formidable enemies as we shall see she had to encounter. Contemporary with this real or fabulous Amphictyon was Cad- mus, who, about 1519 years before the Christian era, is said to have imported from Phoenicia into Greece the art of alphabetic writing. The Phoenician alphabet, which is generally su|)posed to be the root of all the others, consisted only of sixteen letters, and the ancient Greeks had no more for many centuries after wards. Before the introduction of the Phoenician alphabet by Cadmus, it is probable that the Greeks used either the hierogly- pliic mode, or the more ancient manner of expressing their ideas by rude pictures. The word i'tiuqi-iv being used to signify either to lorite or to paint, countenances diis supposition. After the in- troduction of the alphabetic mode, the Greeks wrote, not as after- wards, constantly from left to right, but alternately from left to right and frors right to left. This mode of writing, of which there are some specimens preserved among the Arundelian marbles at Oxford, was termed Boustropkedon, from its resemblance to the furrows described in ploughing a field. With the art of writing, Cadmus brought likewise from Phoeni cia a knowledge of all those arts and sciences which were practised and cultivated at this time in that early civilized country. The Greeks gradually advancing iu improvement, and shaking off their original barbarism, begin, from this period, to figure as an united people, and to turn their thoughts, as we shall presently see, to ambitious and hazardous enterprises. But, before proceeding to notice these, I shall here take occasion to offer a few refiections on the short preceding sketch of the first and rudest period of the Grecian history. forco of arms, and do my Piuleavors to destroy those cities wliicli are g lilty of such altPinpls. If any devastalions be committed in the territory of A|> illo, if any shall be privy to such ofTciice, or enlerlain any desiirn a!if:iinst the toinple, I will use inv hands, my feet, my wlicije f )rce to brinij the otVcnder in just pun- ishment." The latler part of (lie oath was int'^nded as a jruird upon the purity of the national reiiirion ; and this care was always iinderst'ivd to form a very important part of the function of the Amphictyonic council. This oath was guarded by the most (Ireadful curses and awful imprecatinns of venij-i'ance upon any dei)uly who should violate the oblijjations which he thus came under VOL. I. 8 58 UNIVERSAL IIISTOFIY. fuOOK I CHAPTER VII. Rfflcclions on tlie first and rudest periods of tlic Grecian History — Extreni€ Itarliarisin of tlie Aborigines— Circumstances which retarded Civilization — Orijriri of the (Jreek Theology — Uncertainty of Arythological R/'st-arches — Su|)erslilioiis Cliaracler of the Greeks — Oracles — Games — EflTecta of tliem on the National Character. The topographical appearance of the country of Greece, when surveyed upon a map, presents to the view a large irregular penin- sula, surrouncled on the east, south, and west, by the Mediterra- nean, wliich deeply indents its coasts, and divided internally by several large chains of mountains, which, with their lateral branches, form so many intersections, that tlie whole face of the country ap- pears cut into a great number of small valleys, surrounded almost on every side by hills. Hence, while the coasts of the peninsula formed a muliiujde of bays and harbors, easily accessible to stran- gers who came thither widi a view either to colonize or to make spoil, it must have been extremely difficult for those invaders to penetrate into the interior parts of the country; and troops of an enemy, after the conquest of one canton, would find fresh ditficul- lics, and a war to recommence, at every step of their progress. From the same cause, the internal structure of the country, it would necessarily happen, that even after a colony of strangers had formed a permanent establishment, and begun to spread iin- l)rovement and civ ilization around ihcm, the progress of that civih- zation would be extremely slow. For the inhabitants of the dif- ferent cantons living altogether detached, and feeling very few wants to incite to intercourse or to union, any improvement which they received wotild be partial, and very slowly communicated to their neighboring provinces. The conformity, indeed, of the lan- guage of the Greeks, would seem to countenance the nation of their having free communication and intercourse; but this general conformity may be accounted for from their having all the same origin; and if the original language was the same, it must, in such a state ot barbarism, have long remained without much change, even though the dilferent districts of the country had no intercourse with each other. And here it may be remarked, that the admirable structure of the Greek language, highly complicated, yet at the same time ClI VII.] THE GREEKS. 59 wonderfully regular, and at once the most copious and most elegant of the known tongues, is of itself a proof of that tradition which attributes the first civilization of this people to a colony of strangers from one or other of the more polished countries of the East; for this laiigungc, such as we find it to have been in the days of Ilonier and of licsiod, is a phenomenon altogether inconsistent with the state of society in which it is found, and with the rude and barba- rous manners of the people who used it. It must, therefore, have been imported and taught to this people by the colony of a refined and polished nation among w'hom it had its birth. That the ancient inhabitants of this peninsula were rude and uncultivated savages, is a fact which the moderns have no reasona- b.e grounds for doubting, when we find it the uniform belief of the nation itself in all periods of. its annals, and the common opinion of its best historians. "Who could imagine," says M. Goguet, "that that ingenious people to whom Europe is indebted for all its knowledge, were descended from savages who wandered in the woods and fields, without laws or leaders, having no other retreat but dens and caverns, ignorant even of the use of fire, and so bar- barous as even to eat one another.'"' Why should we doubt of these facts, when we know for a truth that other nations, in times comparatively modern, were upon their first discovery found in a state erpially barbarous.'' The inhabitants of the Marian Islands, when they were discovered by Magellan in 1521, had, till that time, never seen fire, and expressed the utmost astonishment at it. They believed it to be an animal which fixed itself upon wood and fed upon it, and when approaching so near as to be burnt, they ihouglit they were bit by it. The inhabitants of the Philippine and Canary Islands were, at their first discovery, in a state of ecpial ignorance. There are, it is true, but few countries in which light- ning is not scon at times, and its eflects perceived; but as those effects are alwavs destructive, a savage would naturally regard the phenomenon with horror; and if a similar effect should by chance manifest itself from the collision of hard substances, he would not readily conceive that it could be turned to useful purjioses; and, therefore, instead of preserving the fire, would nattirally either endeavor to suppress and extingtiish it, or, if he found tiiat hiipracticable, would fiy from it and leave it to its ravages. That the ancient inhabitants of Greece were anthropophai^i is no more incredible, than that there are savage tiibes at this day in Asia, Africa, and America, who make a common practice of feed- ing on human flesh.* We think of (his with iiorror, and execrate * Tlio Now Zonlrinflers. Imyond dnulit, arc cannilials. — Sep Ilmrhmrnrlh and Coohe's Itisl I'oiiiiirr in 1777. Tlicy fat, however, only tlii-ir enemies, and ex- Crpsscd pn-al ahhortonro when asked if tlicy eat their friends who h.id heen illed. — [See also Marie's lyrsidfiirr in .\nrZrahind, lti33 — I'.His's Pulync^ian Researches, 182U — and Sir Stamford Uallles on Java.] 60 UNIVEIISAL II.STOKV. [bOOK I the idea as shocking and unnatural. Wc, who do not know what it is to want the su|)i)lies of a vast variety of ahuicnt, study to ex- cite the satiated appetite by skilful combinations and ingenious refiiicinents of cookery: but we should jndge more impartially, if, while wc thought of those bloody repasts, we took likewise into view the nigzardly provision which nature in many regions of the earth has made for man; the barren deserts which he inh;ibits, the climate which often locks up or annihilates their scanty produce, and the dreadful extremities to which even civilized man has been known to proceed for the support of life. Necessity only, in the most savage nations, could at first get the better of the strongest instinct; but that once overcome, a habit is soon acquired, and will not be laid aside as long as subsistence remains in any degree precarious. In a nation so barbarous as we must believe Greece to have been at this period, there were many circumstances which retarded the advances to refinement. The Titans, the first colony of strangers from the East, might have mtroduced a degree of civilization, but it could be only tem- porary. They taught the Greeks agriculture; but the continual wars in which they were engaged among themselves rendered the improvement of the country quite impracticable, for no man had any security for reaping the fruits of his labor. These strangers were extirminatcd, and Greece, in a few years, relapsed into her original barbarism. The second and third colonies from the East founded a few cities, then termed kingdoms; for every city was a separate state, and we may form a judgment of the nature of these stales from this circumstance, that at the time of Cecrops, when Attica consisted of twehe separate states or cities, the inhabitants of the whole district amounted only to 20,000. The detached situation of the Greeks, of which we have already taken notice, and the natural barriers between the difi'erent cantons, gave to the inhabitants a certain spirit of independence, which, even after the foundation of a political union, would very much resist all attempts towards the establishment of general laws, and, consequeiilly, afibrd the greatest obstacles to general civilization. One ijowerful engine, best fitted to overcome these obstacles, was the introduction of a national religion, which Greece, as we have already observed, owed to those eastern colonies. It is a very just remark of an ingenious historian,* that the the- ology of any country is an indication of the state of manners when that system was first formed. " By knowing the adventures and attributes of any false deity, we can pronounce with some cer- tainty what must have been the state of society and manners when ne was elevated to that dignity. The mythology of Greece plainly • Robertson's Historical Disquisition concerning India, Appendix, p. '517 CH, VII.] THE GREEKS — MYTHOI.OOY. 61 indicates tho characlcr of the ago in which it was formed. It must have been in times of the greatest licentiousness, anarchy, and violence, that divinities of the highest rank could he supposed capable of perpetrating actions, or of being influenced by passions, which, in more enlightened periods, would be deemed a disgrace to human nature: it must have been when the earth was still in- fested with destructive monsters, and mankind, under forms of government too feeble to afford them protection, were exposed to the depredations of lawless robbers, or the cruelty of savage op- pressors, that the well-known labors of Hercules, by which he was raised from earth to heaven, could have been necessary, or would have been deemed highly meritorious." What was the original worship of the ancient inhabitants of this country we are entirely at a loss to know; but barbarous as they were, they probably had some notions of religion, and receiving from strangers a new system of theology, of which at first their ideas must have been very confused, they would naturally graft the one upon the other; as we know that in modern times several savage nations have done in blending their own idolatries with the tenets of Christianity. Hence if we still trace the gods of the Phoenicians and of the Egyptians in those of the Greeks, with respect to the great characterizing circumstances of their powers and attributes, it is a very fruitless labor which some learned men have undertaken in attempting to prove a coincidence in all the minute particulars of their fabulous lives, exploits, and metamor- phoses. I know of no subject which has afforded so much dis- quisition, or so many opposite opinions, as the attempts that have been made to reconcile the mythologies of different nations, or to trace up all the absurd fables of the pagan theologies to one common origin. It would be idle to enter deeply into a subject of this nature; yet I tliink it of consequence to take notice at least of one theory or system with regard to the origin of the pagan mythologies which some very good men have adopted, from a mistaken zeal in the cause of religion. Some of these authors, with wonderful learning, but with much indiscietion, have attem|)t- ed to show that most of the fables regarding the heathen deities and their illustrious exploits derive their origin from the sacred Scriptures, and are nothing else than the lives and actions of the first patriarchs vitiated and disguised in passing by tradition to barbarous and unenlightened nations. Thus the learned Bochart finds out the patriarch Noah in the pagan Saturn, his son Siiem in Pluto, Ham in Jupiter Ammon, and Japhet in Neptune.* Moses alone is said to have furnished the idea of Apollo, jEsCulapius, Priapus, Prometheus, Tiresias, Proteus, Typhon, Perseus, Or- pheus, Janus, Adonis; because certain fabulous exploits, attributed ■ l>ocliarl, Tlioinassin, Cumberland, Vossius, Huet, Fouriaont, &c. 62 UNivEHSAi. iirsTORV [book I lo tlinsc (Iciiics and lieroos, bear a reseinljlance to some of the anions of ilic Jewish legislator. In like manner they have found all th- hrathen goddesses in Zij)porah, the wife, oi* in Miriam, the sister, of Moses. One of these learned authors has published a book which he calls Homer Hebraizing^ in which he alleges that the Iliad and Odyssey arc nothing else than a history of the illus- trious characters in Scripture under borrowed names. This fond- ness for reducing all history of remote antiquity to the sacred Scriptures, and of making the inspired volumes furnish theology not only to the Jews, but to all the heathen nations, is of very j)ernicious consequence; for what indeed else is it than to say, that the sacred oracles, designed to instruct mankind in their highest interests, and the concerns of their eternal welfare, have produced, in most nations, the wildest and most monstrous fictions, which are destructive even of morality, and persuade to vice instead of virtue.^ The extreme uncertainty of all mythological explanations of llie ancient fables is best evinced by comparing togellier the dif- ferent solutions which men of ingenuity have given of the same fable. Tiiis, no doubt, is a digression; but nothing is useless which illustrates the history of the human mind. The story of Proteus feeding his sea-calves upon the beach, and counting them at noon, with the extraordinary faculty he had of varying hit shape, is explained by the Abbe Banier into an historical fact of a king of Egypt of that name, who is said to have lived about the time of the war of Troy; " a wise and crafty prince," says Banier, "■whose cautious temper, guarding him against all dangers, might well pass for the gift of prophecy which is ascribed to him. As it must have been extremely difficult to learn his secrets, there was no impropriety in saying that it was impossible to come at the knowledge of them but by binding him. He was, besides, exceedingly stately, and seldom appeared in public, unless about noon to review his soldiers, which tlie poets have called counting his flock: and as his subjects, the Egyptians, lived upon the sea- coasts, they were very properly termed sea-calves." Such is tho account of Proteus by the Abbe Banier, which, it must be ownied, is much less extravagant than many of his explanations. It were easy to contrast this with at least half a dozen different explana- tions of the same fable by other mythologists, all of them opposite to each other, all equally plausible, or, as some perhaps may think, equally absurd. But I shall content myself here with giving one other explanation of the same fable, by a genius of a superior order, I mean my Lord Bacon, a man whose vigor of imagination was perhaps his most eminent talent; and which, though in general it was under the chastisement of a most solid judgment, seems at times to have eluded the watchfulness of its monitor, and to have escaped into the regions of extravagance. He, too, was fond of discovering in the ancient niytholog)' a great JH. VII.] THE GREEKS MYTHOLOGY. fi deal of mysterious and secret wisdom; but his meanings lie for the most part so very deep, that it is extremely iinjjrobable they should ever have occurred to any but himself, nmch less to tlupe who devised the fables. The fable of Proteus, says Lord Bacon, seems to point at the secrets of nature, and the various states of matltr. " Proteus, an old man, signifies matter, the most ancient of all things after God hiiMself, which resides as in a cave, under the vast concavity of the heavens. He is represented as the servant of Neptune, be- cause the various operations and modifications of matter are wrought chiefly while it is in a fluid state. The herd or flock of Proteus seems to mean nothing else than the several kinds of animals, plants, and minerals, in which matter appears to difllise and spend itself: so that, after having formed these several species, and as it were finished its task, it seems to repose, as Proteus, after count- ing his flock, is feigned to go to sleep. But Proteus, when any attempts were made to bind him, is said to have changed into many dilTerent shapes: so matter, if any skilful artist should apply force, and torture it in order to its annihilation, will change and transform itself into a strange variety of shapes and appearances, but nothing less than the power of the Creator can annihilate or truly destrnv it. So, at length, running through the whole circle of transformations, and completing its j)eriod, it in some degree restores itself, if the force be continued. The prophetical spirit of Proteus agrees excellently with the nature of matter; for he who knows the properties, the changes, and the processes of matter, must of necessity understand the effects and sum of what it does, has done, and can do; though his knowledge extend not to all the parts and particulars thereof." Such is the solution of the fable of Proteus by Lord Bacon, upon wnich I shall only remark, that if this fable had any hidden meaning whatever, it is highly improbable that it should have been such as could have occurred to no other but a man possessed of similar talents to those of its interpreter, a great jjliilosophioal genius, guided at times by an extravagant imagination.* The extreme subtilty and refinement of his solution must convin(;e us at least that the parable could never hive answered the end of instruction, which Lord Bacon himself supposes to have been the chief use and purpose of those ancient allegories. To dismiss the subject of mythology, I shall only observe, that researches of this kind, however ingenious, however they may exercise and amuse the imagination, are extremely fruitless. No subject requires more acquaintance with history, or demands more labor and re- • Balzric says, liumorously, " Croyons done, pour I'amonr du Clianceliei Bacon, owe loiitos les folies dea anciens sont saires. et tous leiira aoni'i'S myt kres 61 UMVKiisAr, msTORV. [nooK i searrli. But. tin; aniiiils of liistory are rarisarkcd to very little j)iir|)()se if uc; cstaljlisli it for a jjpinciple that every extravagant whim or absurdity that was current in any ago or nation must have had soimc foundation in reason. The more we are a(r|uainte(l with the hiunan mind, the more we shall perceive its weaknesses, its iirejiidices, its caprices, and its follies. To return from this digression — the great engine of the civiliza- tion of the Greeks was the introduction pf a national religion hy those eastern colonics; and, inspired with the enthusiasm of all new converts, it is no wonder that superstition was at this time their predominant characteristic. To this age, therefore, and to this character of the people, we must refer the origin of the Grecian oracles, and the institution of the public games in honor of the gods. Wit!i a rude and unenlightened people there is no passion more strong than the desire of penetrating into futurity. It would seem that the less the human mind is aided by experience, or enabled from extensive knowledge to form probable conjectures of the future from the past, the more it is apt to wish for and to believe the possibility of some secret art or method of obtaining such anticipated views. All barbarous nations have their augurs, their sorcerers, or their oracles. The Canadian savages have in every tribe a few crafty impostors, who pretend to foretell future events by visions, which they have in their sleep, and who are thence termed dreamers. When the tribe marches to war, these dreamers constantly attend in the rear of the troop, and no measure is ven- tured upon till they are consulted. The African negroes have their Obi men and women, who deal in charms and incantations, and are firmly believed to have the power of dispensing good and evil fortune at their pleasure. The sorceries of the Laplander are well known; and the second-sight of the Scottish highlanders: all proceed from the same source, ignorance and superstition. A cavern at the foot of Mount Parnassus, near Delphi, was remarkable for exhaling a mejihitic vapor, which, like that of the Grotto del Cani in Italy, had the effect of stupefying and slightly convulsing any person who came within its atmosphere. Some ingenious men had the address to turn this natural phenomenon to their own advantage and the profit of the neighborhood. A temple was built on the spot to Apollo, the god of divination. A prif'stess was procured whom habit soon enabled to undergo the experiment without danger; the raving expressions which the jiriests probably instructed her to utter, and which they inter- preted as they thought fit, were received by the people as oracles', and her visible convulsions gave ample testimony to their being the efTect of inspiration. A hollow oak in the forest of Dodona, in which it was possible for a man to conceal himself while the aperture was artfully closed up, was likewise famous for its oracles, fuid the imposture was no doubt equally beneficial to its priests CII. VII. J ' THE GRr.EKS — GAMES. G.3 and attendants. These were commonly men of some art, \vlio had ingenuity cnougli to frame equivocal answers to the questions that were put to them ; and if the inquirer gave such construction to the response as was most agreeable to himself, it was generally possible for the priests to construe it according to the event. Strange ! that men should ever believe that if the Deity should stoop to hold intercourse with his creatures, he would use the mean tricks and subterfuges of a juggler. Yet these oracles of the Greeks were for many ages in high reputation, and had extensive political consequence. One of the causes which have been assigned for the high reputation of the Amphictyonic Council, and the removal of its seat from Thermo- pylae to Delphi, was the interest which the northern states of Greece had in maintaining the veneration for the Delphian oracle, and the preservation of the riches of its temple, with which this council was particularly entrusted. A more remarkable conse- quence was the institution of the public games of the Greeks. The concourse of people to the oracles upon particular occasions (for it was only at stated periods that they were accessible) naturally led to the celebration of a festival and to public games, which, as a religious motive first occasioned their celebration, began soon to be considered as a part of religion. Ttie celebration of public games was of very high antiquity among the Greeks. Homer makes no mention of the Olympian, or of any other of those which were called the sacred games; but is very ample in the account of the game? celebrated in honor of the dead, in his account of the funeral of Patroclus, and describes minutely the several contests of chariot-races, foot-races, boxing, wrestling, throwing the quoit, launching the javelin, shooting with the bow, and fencing widi the spear.* These games seem to have borne a consiflerable resemblance to the Gothic tournaments. The prizes were of considerable value — a female cajjtive, a war- horse, golden goblets, spears, &c. These we shall see in after times gave place to such rewards as were purely honorary. The four public, or solemn games of the Greeks, which were particularly termed 'f?'^^ or sacred, were the Olympic, the Pythian, the Nemnean, and the Isthmian. The precise eras when those games were first instituted are extremely uncertain, as well as the persons to whom they owed their origin. With regard to both these points. Archbishop Potter, in his Arch(tolo::la Grccca^ has collected all the different opinions. The Olympic games, which were celebrated at 01ymi)ia in the territory of Ellis, were held every four years, or rather every fiftieth month, or the second iTionth after the completion of four years. And hence have arisen the seeming chronological discordances, when events have been • Iliad, 2:^. VOL. I. 9 f>0 U.MVr.RSAt. HISTOIIY. [bOOK I «'.oiu|)iitt'(l l)(»ili by years and by olympiiids ; for il has btsen rus- loiiiarv to allow four jirccisc years lo an olympiad instead of fifty inonllis. The Greeks did not begin lo compute the time by olympiads, from the period wlien those games were first instituted. They iiad even subsisted some centuries before they began to reckon by them ; and the first olympiad, according to Usher's chronology, begins only 776 years before the Christian era, 29 years before the Babylonian era of Nabonassar, and 140 before iJie building of Rome. The amusemenls of the people in all these public games were of the same nature, and consisted principally in viewing contests of skill in all the adiletic exercises. The prizes bestowed on the victors were not rewards of any intrinsic value, as those given at the ancient funeral games ; they were originally of the most simple nature. A crown of wild olive or of parsley was accounted the highest reward in the times of virtuous simplicity, when glory was a sufficient incitement to excellence without the sordid allurements of interest ; and so powerful is habit In its influence on the mind, that even in the latter ages of Greece, when luxury had introduced corruption of every kind, the victors in those games had no other reward than a garland of leaves. In a political view, these public games were, during the first ages of their institution, of the most important consequence. Independently of their effect in promoting in the youth a hardy and vigorous conformation of body, and that activity and address in martial exercises and in single combat, which, according to the ancient system of war, were of the utmost importance, a most beneficial consequence of those public games was die frequent assembling together of the inhabitants of all the stales of Greece, and thus promoting a national union ; to which the difference of their governments, and their separate interests, were otherwise opposing a constant resistance. Assembled on these public occasions from motives of pleasure and amusement, to which was joined the notion of performing a duty of religion, and indulging in every species of festivity, they could not avoid consid- ering each other as brethren and fellow citizens. Whatever were the political interferences of the several states, or their national animosities, every grudge of this kind was at least for the time obliterated. Thucydides informs us that all hostile operations between states actually at war were suspended during the per- formance of those solemnities. Another consequence of those meetings was the dissemination of knowledge, arts, science, and literature ; for it must be observed, that although tiie chief contests In the sacred games were those in the martial and athletic exer- cises, tliere were likewise trials of skill in poetry, history, and music ; and it is chiefly to these latter exercises of genius tJiat we must attribute the eminence of the Greeks in those sciences above all the nations of antiquity. VIII. j THE GREEKS 67 CHAPTER VIII. Early period of the Greek history continued — Earliest state of agriculture in Greece — Erectheus institutes the Eleusinian Mysteries — Obtains the sove reignty of Attica — Theseus unites the cities of Attica — This the age of the marvellous — End of that period — Expedition of the Argonauts — Course of their voyage — The solstitial and equinoctial points fixed by Chiron — This the foundation of Sir Isaac Newton's chronology — Twofold proof on which it rests — Progress of maritime afl'airs in Greece— Stale of the military art — War of Thebes — War of the Ejngonoi — War of Troy — Ancient system of warfare — The tactic or arrangement of their troops — Subsistence of the armies — Arn?.s — The war of the HeraclidcE — Change of government in Greece — Commencement of the democracy of Athens — Origin of the Greek colonies — Causes of tiieir rapid advancement. From the period of the arrival of the first of those Eastern colo- nies which formed establishments in Greece, down to the era of the war of Troy, is an interval of above 300 years, in which the Greeks were gradually shaking off their original barbarism, and advancing in civilization and the knowledge of the arts of life. This whole space of time, however, is accounted the fabulous period of the Grecian history. Not that it contains no facts of which the authenticity can be relied on, but that it abounds with many, which, with a basis of truth, have served as the foundation for an immense superstructure of fable. Part of the history of this period I have given in the })receding chapter, in which I have shortly traced the progress of the Greeks from their most barbai'- ous state down to the introduction of letters into Greece by Cad- mus. I shall now throw together such facts as are tolerably well authenticated, and may be relied on as the great outlines of the history of what remains of that doubtful period down to the Tro- jan war. From that era, when it is generally allowed that fiction ceases to mix itself with authentic history, we siiall proceed with a greater degree of light, and find the objects of our study gradu- ally rising upon us in point of importance. Greece, which is not naturally a fertile country, nourishing only a few inhabitants, and these seeking their sustenance, like other savages, from the woods and mountains, did not begin to practise agriculture till about 150 years after the time of Cecrops. At this time Erectheus, either a Greek who had sailed to Egypt, or the leader of a new colony of Egyptians, is said to have introduced agriculture into Attica, and to have relieved that country, then suffering from famine, by the importation of a large quantity of Egyptian grain The only produce of the native soil at this time C8 I'MVF.itsAi. iiisToiiv. InooK I wf? llio olive, which served as a very nourishing food, hiil of whicli tlie various uses were then so little known that it lias heen doubled if, even in the days of Homer, the Greeks used oil for the pur- j)ose of giving liglit. It is certain that this great jjoet, who is ahnndanily miiiuie in describing every circumstance of domestic life, never mentions oil as applied to that purpose.* Erectheus, called by the latter Greeks Ericthonius, is said to oave cultivated the plains of Eleusis, then a barren waste, and to have instituted, in honor of Ceres, the Eleusinian Mysteries, in imitation of the Egyptian games of Isis. Ceres is feigned to have come herself into Greece at this period; and the poets have re- corded many prodigies of her performance. As to the precise nature of those Eleusinian mysteries, the moderns can only form conjectures; since, even among the ancients, they were kept an iin iolable secret from all but those who were initiated. They cer- tainly were of a religious and even of a moral nature; since we find the wisest among the ancients expressing themselves with regard to them in strains of the highest encon)ium. Cicero, speak- ing of them, says, (De Leg. 1. 2.) " Among many other advanta- ges which we have derived from Athens, this is the greatest; for it has improved a rude and barbarous people, instructed us in the art of civilized life, and has not only taught us to live cheerfully, but to die in peace in the hope of a more happy futurity." For a very learned conjectural explanation of those mysteries, we refer the reader to Bishop Warburion's Divine Legation of JMoses; and many curious particulars regarding the actual ceremonies per- formed in those sacred solemnities are enumerated by Mr. Cum- berland in his Observer, a work which contains a great deal of \aluable research on various topics of the antiquities and literature of the Greeks. f * Their apartments were lighted only by fires, and in tlie palaces of princes odorift-rous wood was employed for that purpose. — Odyss. v. 50; Ibid. vi. SOU. They likewise used torches of pine and resinous woods. — Odyss. xviii. 300. t According to Mr. Cumberland, the Eleusinian mysteries were celebrated in the lime of autumn, every fifth year, at Eleusis, where a great concourse of people met on the occasion. The ceremonies of initiation were preceded by Bacrifices, prayers, and ablutions. The candidates were e.^ercised in trials of secrecy, and prepared by vows of continence ; every circumstance was con- trived to render the act as awful and striking as possible ; the initiation was j>erf'irmed at midnight, and the candidate was taken into an interior sacristy of the temple, with a myrtle garland on his head ; here he was examined, if he had duly performed his stated ablutions ; clean hands, a pure heart, and a native proficiency in the Greek tongue, were indispensable requisites. Having p.issed this examination, he was admitted into the temple, which was an edifice of immense magnitude: after proclamation made that the strictest silence should be observed, the otTiciating priest took out the sacred volumes contain- ing the mysteries ; these books were written in a strange character, interspersed with figures of aninials, and various emblems and hieroglyphics; they were pre- served in a cavity between two large blocks of stone, closely fitted to each Dther, and they were c;irefully replaced by the priest with much soileninity, itter he had e.xplained what was necessary to the initiated out of them The »;H. VIIl ] THE GREEKS FABULOUS PERIOD. 69 Th? services of Erectheus weie rewarded by his obtaining tiie sovereignty of Attica, whicli, from that tinne, bezan to advance in civilization; and in the succeeding age, during the reign of Theseus, the Greeks in general began lo display an active and ambitious spirit, which signalized itself in some very extraordinary enter- jiriscs. Such were the expedition of the Argonauts under Jason; the war of Thebes, in which seven kings combined against Eteo- cles, its sovereign; and the war of Troy, which engaged all the slates and princes of Greece. Attica, before the time of Theseus, though under one sovereign, was divided into twelve detached states or cities, each governed by its own magistrates and laws. This prince laid the foundation of the grandeur of Attica, by uniting these twelve states, combining their interests, and throwing them into one people. The separate magistracies were abolished, and the whole agreed to be go\erned by the same code of laws, in the framing of which the principal men of eacli state had an equal suffrage. Erectheus had divided the citizens into four classes: Theseus reduced them to three — the nobles, the laborers, and the artisans. As the two last were the most numerous and the most powerful, he balanced that ine()uality, by conferring on the first the sole regulation of all that regarded religion, the administration of justice, and public policy. But there were in this institution the seeds of future discord and faction; for it was in the power of an ambitious noble, by ingratiating him- self with the inferior orders, to obtain such an ascendency as to regulate every thing by his will; and, in fact, the consiilulion of Attica was at this lime perpetually fluctuating, and the people for ever embroiled in civil commotions. initiated were enjoined to honor their parents, lo reverence the immortal gods, and aljstain from particular sorts of diet, particularly tame fowls, fish, beans, and certain sorts of apjiies. When this was finished, the priests beiran to play off the whole machinery of Iho temp'e, in all its terror; dolef'ul groans and lamentations broke from the f.me , thick and sudden darkness involved the temple, momentary gleams of liirht flash- td.forth every now and then, with tremblings as if an earthquake liad shaken the edifice; sometimes these coruscations continued lonir enough to discover all the Rpleiidir of llie shrines and imaijes, accompanied with voices in coiicerl, danciiiirs, and music; at other times, during the darkness, severities were exerciseil upon the initialed bv persons unseen ; they were drnirired to the crround by the hair of their heads, and beaten and lashed with stripes, without knowing from whom the blows [iroceeded, or why they were inflicted : lightnings, and Ihiinderings, and dreadful apparitions were occasionally played off, with every invention to terrify and astonish; at length, upon a voice crying out some barbarous, unintelligible words, the ceremony was concluded, and the initiated n their violaiion, were as binding as could possibly be devis ed. ' — Cumberland's Observer, Vol. v. No. 115. 70 ir.MVEiiSAK iiisTOUY. [book 1 It ij |)i.iK'i|)ally "11 the age of Tliesmis, that the Creeks have ii.duli^L'd their vein fur the marvellous. Every thing is supernauiraJ, and every gieal man is either a god or a demi-god. Tlie most prohahle soinee of lliis I conceive to be, that the j)rinces, who had then hecome really powerful, and exercised a high control over their suhjecls, taking advantage of the snjjerstitious ( haraoter uf the limes, and of the people's credulity, assinned to themselves a divine origin, in order the better to support their new authority. Having at a 1 times the priests under their influence, they could do this witii great facility, by instituting relisious riles in honor of their divine progenitors; and if they could thus prevail so far as to j)a3s with their contemporaries for the offspring of the gods, it is no wonder that the succeeding ages should retain the same idea of them, and decorate their lives and exploits with a thousand ciiLum- stances of fabulous embellishment. But the taking of Troy is the era when the marvellous part of the Grecian history ceases all at once. The reason appears to be this: — the absence of the kings and chiefs at this tedious siege involved the several stales in great disorders. Many of these prin- ces were slain, or perished by shipwreck; others were assassinated or deposed. The few who survived found every thing in misery and confusion, the country lavaged, the people pillaged and op- pressed. In this state of things, the mind, awake only to real calamities and sufferings, is little disposed to indulge itself in romantic and poetic fictions. The games, which cherished that spirit, were for many years interrupted, and when again renewed, the more enlightened character of the Greeks, and the decline of that superstitious turn of mind which disposes to the love of the marvellous, had drawn a distinct line of separation between fiction and authentic history. But even in the latter pari of the fabulous period, there are some events of which the great outlines are sufTicienily authentic, and which, as strongly characteristic of the genius, spirit, and manners of the times, are too important to be passed over widiout some reflections. The expedition of the Argonauts, the sieges of Thebes and of Troy, are very singular enterprises in so rude a period of society. The Greeks, among other arts which they learned from the Plui?nicians, were indebted to them for ihat of navigation; and they had not been long in possession of this art before they ])ut it in practice in a very bold experiment. The voyage of the Argonauts to Colchis was undeilaken 12S0 years before the Chris- tian era, according to Usher's Chronology, and 937 according to that of Sir Isaac Newton; and, when all its circumstances are con- sidered, was certainly a very remarkable enterprise. What was the real purpose of the voyage, is extremely difficult to be deter- mined. The poets have feigned a variety of fabulous cu'cumstan- ces, both of the enterprise and of its object; but among the ser" en. VIM.] THK ARGONAUTS. 71 ous opinions of the best informed writers, the most probable seems to be that of Eustathius, who conjectures this voyage to liave been both a military and a mercantile expedition. The object, In his opinion, was to open to the Greeks the commerce of the Eux- iae Sea, and to secure some establishments upon its Asiatic coasts. For these purposes a fleet anil troops were necessary. The armament consisted of many shii)s, of which Argo^ the largest, was 50 cubits, or 75 feet, in length ; about the size of a modern vessel of 200 tons burden. A number of heroes from every quar- ter of Greece joined in the expedition — the fathers of those brave warriors who afterwards distinguished themselves at the siege of Troy. The Argonauts, under the command of Jason, set sail from the ooast of Thessaly. Their expedition was lengthened by unfavora- ble weather, unskilful seamen, and the consequent necessity of keep- inp; as near as possible to the coasts. The variety of adventures tvliich they met with in touching at many different islands and ports in the course of their voyage, have furnished amjile matter of poetical fiction, resting on a slender basis of truth. Apollonius Rhodius, in Greek, and Valerius Flaccus, in Latin heroics, have sung the exploits of the Argonauts with no mean powers of po- etry. The outlines of their expedition may be very shortly detailed. From the isle of Lemnos, where they made some stay, th(!y proceeded to Sainothracc. Thence sailing round the Cher- soiiesus, they entered the Hellespont ; and keeping along the coast of Asia, touched at Cyzicus, and spent some time on the coast of Bithynia ; thence they entered the Thracian Bosphorus. and proceeding onward through the Euxine, at length discovered Caucasus at its eastern extremity. This mountain was their land- mark, which directed them to the port of Phasis near to Oea, then the chief city of Colchis, which was the ultimate object of their voyage. Following the Argonauts through this tract of sea, and coasting it as they must have done, it appears evident that they performed a voyage of at least 440 leagues. Those who consider not the times and the circumstances in which the Greeks accomplished this navigation, have not perceived the boldness of tho enterprise. These daring Greeks had been but recently taught the art of sailing, by the cxanqilc of foreigners ; it was their first attempt to put it in practice. They were utterly ignorant of navigation as a science ; and they went to explore an extent of sea that was altogether unknown to them. Let us do those heroes justice, and freely acknowledge that the voyage of the Argonauts was a noble enterprise for the times in which it was executed. Prcjinratory to this remarkable voyage, the Argonaut; were furnished with instructions bv Chiron the astronomer, who framed 72 iNivr.itsAL iiisioitv. [book I for tlieir use a sclicinc of the cnustclliuions, giving a dincrmiiiod place to ilic sfilstitial and efjiiinoctial points; the former in tlie 15th degrees of Cancer and Capricorn, and the latter in the 15ih degrees of Aries and I.ibra. This recorded fact* has served as tiie basis of an emendation of the ancient chronology by Sir Isaac Newton, of which I shall here give a short account. Sir Isaac Newton's amend(}d chronology is built upon two sep- aratespcci(!s of proofs: first, on an estimate of the medium length of the generations of nieji, or of the lives of the kings taken in suc- cession, which former chronologists had enlarged very much be- yond the truth ; secondly, on a calculation instituted from tho regular procession of the equinoxes. As to the first mode of proof, it may be observed, that when we are accurately inforn)ed from history that a certain number of generations intervened, or a certain number of sovereigns reigned, between any two events, we are enabled to ascertain pretty nearly the length of that inter- val, provided we can fix ujion a reasonable nimiber of years as the medium length of the generations of man, or the reigns of a suc- cession of princes: a medium or average which is to be formed from a comparison of the successions of the sovereigns in the authenticated periods of modern and ancient history. Between the return of the Heraclidte into Peloponnesus atid the battle of Thermopylae, the date of which last event is well ascertained, though the former is not, there reigned a succession of seventeen kings in one branch of the sovereignty of Lacedas- kHon, and the same number in the other. Now, by comjiaring together a variety of authenticated successions of sovereigns in ancient and modern times, it is found that the medium duration of each reign is from eighteen to twenty years. The seventeen princes, therefore, who filled the interval above-mentioned, must, at the rate of twenty years for each sovereign, have reigned 340 years. These, computed backwards from the sixth year of Xerxes, and allowing one or two years more for the war of the Ileraclida?, and the reign of Arislodemu*, the father of Eurysthenes and Proclus, will place the return of the Heraclida; into Pelopon nesus 150 years after the death of Solomon, and forty-six before the first Olympiad, in which Chorabus was victor. Instead of this moderate estimate, which is founded on rational data, the ancient chronologists, and their followers among the moderns, have assigned a space of thirty-five or forty years to each PO\erci'gn, which is double the true average calculation, and have thus j)laced the return of the Heraclidae 280 years farther back than its true date. Mr. Hooke, in his Roman Historj', has, upon these data, cor- • See, however, the reasons for questioning the authenticity of this fact in Goguct, t. ii. b. 3. sect. 2. rii. viii.] newton's chronology 73 rected the chronology of ihe RomanJiistory under ihc kings; and has shown that the assignment of nineteen or twenty years to each of the seven kings, is more consistent with the series of events recorded in that period, than the ordinary computation given by historians, wiiich supposes each of those princes to iiave reigned at a medium thirty-five years. If, by the same moderate estimate, the succession of the kings who reigned at Alba be compared with that of the kings at Rome, this compulation will fix the coming of ^T^neas into Italy, and the era of the siege of Troy, exactly at the period to which the estimate of generations in the Greek annals would assign those events. The second mode of proof on which Sir Isaac Newton has built his emendation of the ancient chronology, and which gives great additional strength to the former, is that which is founded on the regular procession of the equinoxes. This procession is known, by a series of the most accurate observations, to be at the rate of one degree in seventy-two years; that is, the sun crosses the ecliptic so much more to the west every succeeding year, that at the end of seventy-two years his progress westward amounts to one degree; by which, means it happens, that the places of the equinox are continually receding from the constellations in the middle of which they were originally found at the time of the earliest observations. Whenever, therefore, the situation of the equinoctial or solstitial points, or any appearance d{'|)eniling on tf)em, is mentioned, it is easy to ascertain the time of any event with which such an appearance was connected: for we have only to observe how many degrees the equinoctial points were then distant from their present j)Osition, and to allow seventy-two years for each degree. If we can depend upon the historical fact that the astronomer Chiron found that the two colures cut the ecliptic exactly in the cardinal points, at the time of the Argonautic expe- dition, it was a fair inference of Sir Isaac Newton, wiien he found, in the year 1689, that these colures cut the ecliptic at the dis- tance of ]' C)^ 29' from their original position, and were then found to intersect it in 8 G° 29', 9, 6° 29', and "^ 6° 29, ^ G'^ 29, this advancement or procession being known to go on at the rate of a de;iree in seventy-two years, the length of the interven- ing space must therefore have been exactly 2G27 years; which fixes the Argonautic expedition to 928 d. c. After this first successful experiment, we sliall find ilie (Jreeks turn their attention more particularly to maritime affairs; and we may judge of their progress by tlie fleet which was assembled thirty-five years after the Argonautic expedition, for trans|)orting the troojjs to the siege of Troy. Yet still it was not till the war vvitl'i the Persians that the Greek marine became an object of seri- ous importance!. The na\al victory of Salamis showed to what a height it had then attained. At this battle, the united lleet of VOL. I. 10 > ■ UNIVERSAL IIISTORV. [llOOK I Alliens and Spnrta ainonntcd to 3S0 sail; that of llic Persians W no loss than 1200. The size of these ships is not certainly known; * but there is one circiinistance from uliicli a conjecture may be formed, the port of Pirceus, at Athens, was, according to the account of ancient writers, particularly Strabo, capable of con- taining 400 ships; but this harbor, in the opinion of VVheclcr and otJKT modern writers, could not easily contain above fifty of our middle-sized trading vessels. f The slate of the military art at the same period forms a preit} curious object of inquiry. The war of Thebes, and that of Troy, arc remarkable events in the age of which we now treat, and are, therefore, proper criteria by which we may form a judgment of the state of that art at this time in Greece. The first wars men- tioned in Grecian history deserve no particular attention: they were probably little else than predatory excursions of barbarous tribes, to ravage the lands and carry ofl" the flocks of their neigh- bors. The country, in those times, was open and defenceless; the towns a collection of rude huts, incapable of resisting assault, and unseciu'ed by any regular enclosure or fortification. At the time of the siege of Thebes, the state of the country was ex- tremely different; as we may judge from the preparations of the Argives, their dispositions to besiege the city, and the duration of the war. ffidipus had two sons, Eteocles and Polyniccs, to whom jointly he bequeathed the sovereignly of Thebes. Instead of dividing the kmgdom, they agreed to govern it year after year alternately. Eteocles, at the expiration of his term, refusing to resign, Polyni- ces solicited the aid of Adrastus, king of Argus, who espoused bis cause, engaged several of ihe princes of Greece to assist him, and marched against the Thebans with a powerful army. They retreated before the enemy, and betook themselves to their city, which Adrastus immediately took measures for assailing. This is the first siege mentioned in the Grecian history, whence we may suppose that the arts of attack, and the contrivances for defence, would be equally rude and unskilful. The only object of the besiegers was to blockade the city, to prevent the inhabitants from making sallies, and culling off all succors from the surround- ing country. For this purpose, as they knew not the art of draw- ing lines of circumvallaiion, they formed a large cainp at a small distance from the ciiy, as a security for the baggage and provisions of the army, and a retreat so fortified that they could defend them- selves in ii, in case of a repulse and attack on the part of the be- * The ships of the Greeks, at the time of the war of Troy, had no keel, and only one mast, which was lowered upon the deck when the ship was in port GiKjiiel, vol. ii. b. 4, c. iv. t The iarirest ships mentioned by Homer are those of the Bceotians, wiiicu carried 120 men.— 11. 1. 2. en. VIII.] WAR OF THEBES. 76 sieged. Tliey then divided their army into dilTercnt bodies, each of which had the charge of assaiihing a })articiilar gate or entry tc the city. It does not appear tiiat tlicy ever attempted an esca- lade, or endeavored to eti'ect a breach in tlie walls; but content- ed themselves with directing their efforts against the gates alone. These they endeavored to force, but were as often beat back by a sally from the besieged, and forced to retreat to their camp, where they sustain a siege in their turn. In this way, it is not surprising that the siege of a large city was protracted for years Thebes, after a long siege, gave no hopes of surrender; both par- lies becau)e tired of the war, and it was at length agreed to termi- nate it by a single combat between the rival brothers, Eteocles and Polynices; an issue for the quarrels of sovereign princes, which the humane reader of history will often find reason to wish had been more frequently resorted to. The brothers fought under the walls of Thebes, and were botii killed. I cannot avoid here observing, that the ancients appear to have entertained, on some points, notions of morality, which to our apjireliension seem very extraordinary. The conduct of Eteocles in defrauding his brother of his alternate right of sovereignty, ad- mits, according to our notions of justice, of no apology. It was perfidious in the highest degree. Yet the Greek poets who have treated of this story, iEschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, all agree in condemning Polynices, whom they judge unworthy of the honors of s'^pullure, for having troubled the repose of his coun- try by a war. Similar to this is the judgment of the same poets upon tiie character of (Edipus, who is held forth as an object of the just vengeance of the gods, and condemned for his crimes to Tartarus, because he ignorantly slew his father in a justifiable quarrel, and innocently married his mother, w^hom he knew not. Such, likewise, is their opinion of the criminality of Orestes, who was with difficulty acquitted by the Areopagus, and is feigned to be incessantly tormented by the Furies, for having rexenged on his mother Clytemnestra and her adulterous gallant .'Egisthus, the murder of his father Agamemnon. It is no apology to say, as some critics have done, that the poets chose those subjects where an innocent person is represented as the victim of heavenly ven- geance, because they gave greater exercise to the emotions of terror and pity. The poets, in reality, did not allow the innocence of those persons; on the contrary, they plainly condemn them as guilty, and justify their punishment. The death of Eteocles and Polynices did not terminate the Theban war. It was renewed by Crcon, their uncle, who, after a successful battle, having refused Adrastus leave to bury the dead, that prince implored the aid of the Athenians, tlien governed by Theseus, who, to avenge the cause of humanity, joined his forces to those of the Argives, and compelled Creon to enter into terms of peace. Some years after, the war broke out anew on 7G UNIVKRSAI, IlISTORV. [book I llie part of tlie Argivcs. The sons of those rommanders wlio had fallen (Inline; the sicjie of Thehcs deterinincd to revenge the deaths of their fathers. Tiiis was termed the war of the Ejnironoi, lliat is, the descendants or sons of the former. They were joined hy the Mcssenians and Arcadians, Corinlliians and Megareans. The particulars of this war it is needless to trace; it was of long duration. The Tliel)ans lost a decisive battle on tiie banks of the ii-'»:r Glissas: they retreated into Thebes; tlic city was attacked, taken by storm, and entirely destroyed by the conquerors. Pau- saniifs mentions an epic poem on tiie subject of this war, which some writers have ascribed to Homer. " I own," says Pausanias, " that, next to the Iliad and Odyssey, I have not seen a finer work." Unfortunately, it has not reached our days. The detail of the war of Troy rests chiefly on the authority of Homer; whose work, though embellished with fiction, must not in its great outlines be refused the credit of a real history. The poet, it is true, lived, as is generally supposed, at some distance of time from tiie events which lie relates; 1G8 years by the account of Herodotus; between two and three centuries in the opinion of otiier writers; but by the computation of Sir Isaac Newion, his birth is placed only 28 years after the taking of Troy. But allowing him to have lived at a considerable interval of time from the events which he relates, it is agreed among the ancient writers that he followed the relations of other authors, wliose works, tiiough now lost, were known to the ancients, and esteemed of siiHlcient authority. Several of the principal events of the Trojan war are likewise authenticated by the Arundelian marbles. The Chron- icle of Paros fixes both the commencement of the siege and its termination; the former in the 13th year of Menestheus, king of Athens, and the latter in the 22d year of the same prince. Tiie latter date corresponds to the year 1 184 b. c, according to Ushei 's Chronology, and 904 B. c. according to Sir Isaac Newton's. The immediate cause of the war is generally allowed to have been the rape of Helen, the wife of Menelaus, by Paris, the son of Priam, king of Troy; although prior to that motive an aniino- siry had subsisted between tiie Greeks and Trojans for many gen- erations. It is not otherwise probable, that a quarrel which 'nter- ested only Menelaus and his brother Agamemnon, siiould have been readily espoused by all the princes of Greece. The prepara- tions for this war are said to have occuj)ied no less than ten years; a length of lime which ought not to surprise us, when we consider that this was the first war in which the whole nation had engaged. We may therefore look upon this enterprise as a pro|ier test to jiidge of the state of the military art at this period in Greece. The time of pre])aration was employed in uniting the forces of tiie different princes, and in equipjiing a fleet to trans|)ort them nto Asia. The troops, when assembknl, amounted, according to the estimate of Thucydides, to about 100,000 men. In a general en. VIII. J . TUOJAX WAK. 71 assembly of the States held at Argos, or Mycenrr, the chief com- mand was conferred on Agamemnon, king of Mycenrr, Sicyon, and Corinth; and all the princes of Greece engaged by oath to range themselves under his banners, and to furnish their contingent of men and ships. The preparations on the part of the Trojans were equally formidable. Priam, whose territories were consid arable, extending from the isle of Tenedos to U|)})er Phrygia, hac' raised all his power, and strengthened himself by the alliance of many of the princes of the lesser Asia. "^I'he Greeks embarked at Aulis, opposite to EiibcKa, and landed hi Asia, at the promontory of Sigoeum. Their first operation, after beating back the enemy who opposed their landing, was to form a large camp at some distance from the city. The site of Troy is generally supposed to have been at the distance of four or five miles from the shore, at the foot of that ridge of i.ioun' tains which goes under the name of Ida. The camp was close upon the sea-shore for the sake of the ships, which, as usual, were drawn upon the land, and enclosed within the ramparts of the camp ; one line fronting the city and the other the sea ; while the tents of the troops filled the intermediate space. Each petty nation or tribe of the Greeks had its separate quarter of the camp; which was fortified externally by a high mound of earth, flanked with wooden towers. These strong intrenchments were necessaiy to secure the invading army from the attacks of the enemy, who acted as often as they could upon the offensive, and frequently assaulted the camp. The fortifications of Troy consisted, in lik(i manner, as is generally believed, of nothing more than a sloping wall of earth, flanked with wooden towers. The Greeks attempt- ed to draw no lines of circumvallation, nor were any of those engines of war employed which came afterwards into use in regular sieges. The chief object of the Greeks during the first nine years of the war was to ravage and plunder the country — thus cutting off the sources of supply — and attacking the Trojans whenever they made a sally for the purpose of foraging, or attempted to force the enemy's camp. The detail of the chief events of this war is to be found in Homer, with a copious embel- lishment of fiction. The spirit of the Trojans forsook them upon the death of Hector. The city was taken soon after, either by storm or by surprise; and being set on fire during the night, was burnt to the jrround, not a vestige of its ruins existing at the pre- sent day. The miserable Trojans perished either in the flames oi by the sword of the Greeks, and their emjSire and name were extinguished for ever. About 80 years after the burning of Troy, a Grecian colony settled near to its site, and the rest of the kingdom formed part of the territory of the Lydians. Nothing can show more cleaHy the rudeness of the military art, at this remote period of time, than the instances of those two remarkable sieges of Thebes and of Troy. An open war was no- 78 UNIVKKSAI, HISTORY. [bOOK I thing else llian a scries of |)liin(lcring cx|)0(IitIons. When a riiy was to ho attacked, the country around it was ravaged, and the inhabitants re(hiccd, if possible, to the necessity of a surrender from the want of provisions. If its resources were considerable, while the state of the country at the same time denied supplies to the besiugers, the enterprise must have been abandoned, unless it succeeded by a straiagcin, or the city was betrayed by some of its inhabitants. If at length it was won, it was never attempted to preserve the conquest by a garrison: the advantage gained was usually secured by burning the city to the ground. As these military expeditions, seldom undertaken at a great distance from home, were commonly made during the spring and summer only, the troops during the winter remained at home inactive, and were i^ually disbanded. In a long-continued war at a distance, as that of Troy, the winter season was spent in the camp, and there was a complete cessation of hostilities. Dictys of Crete informs us, that the Greeks during the winter exercised themselves in a variety of games, which tended to relieve the anxiety of the troops, and keep up the martial spirit. The game of chess is snid to have been invented by Palamedes during this tedious siege. With respect to the arrangement of the troops in order of battle, and the various military manoeuvres then in use among the Greeks, our ideas are extremely imperfect. Homer frequently mentions an order of battle under the term phalanx^ but he gives us no description of it. We see, indeed, in one^place, that Nestor places the cavalry or the chariots in front,* the infantry in the rear, and the weakest of the troops in the centre. In another place, we find the infantry in front, and the cavalry in the rear: this shows that they adopted a variety of arrangement according to circum- stances. It is quite impossible, from Homer's description, to have any distinct idea of the manoeuvres of the troops during an engage- ment. He gives us no plan of attack: we know not whether the armies charged in one body or in separate divisions. We see no evolutions, no rational movements of the troops during the action, nor any manoeuvre which shows conduct or skill on the part of the general. The chiefs or captains of the different bodies seem to have fought equallv with the private soldiers, and to be interested only who should kill most men. Homer's descriptions are all of single combats, man to man; long discourses and taunting re- proaches between the heroes, ending in a desperate duel, without any regard to the situation of the main army. It appears from Homer's accounts that the Greeks, in rushing on to engagement, * 'When rav;\lry or Iiorso aro mfntioned, we are not to understand thrit m those armies there were retfvilar bodies of horsemen. The horses were employ- ed only in the drawing of cars or chariots, each usually containinar two men, of whom one managed the horses and the other fought. — Goguet, t ii. b. T CII. VIII. J THE HERACLlDiE. 79 preserved a deep silence, wliile tlie Trojans, like most other bar- barous nations, uttered hideous shouts at the moment of attack. How those armies were subsisted it is not easy to say. It is certain that in those times the troops had no regular pay: they served at their own charges alone. The levies were made by a general law obliging each family to furnish a soldier, under a cer- tain penalty. The only recompense for the service of individuals was their rated share of the booty; for none were allowed to plunder for themselves: every thing was brought into a common stock, and the division was made by the chiefs, who had a larger proportion for their share. The arms of the troops were of different kinds. Their oflensive weapons were the sword slung from the shoulder, the bow and arrows, the javelin, or short missile spear, the club, the hatchet, and the sling. Their weapons of defence were an enormous shield which defended almost the whole body, made of thin metal, and covered with the hide of some animal ; an helmet of brass or copper ; and a cuirass and buskins, with coverings for the thighs, of the same metal. It is proper to observe that iron, though known before this period, was a rare metal, and accounted of high value. Achilles proposed a ball of iron as one of the prizes in the funeral-games which he celebrated in honor of Patroclus.* It was not used in the fabrication of weapons of war. Tliese were formed of copper hardened by an admixture of tin ; and even in much later periods the Roman swords were of the same compound metal. On this subject, the state of the military art at this period among the Greeks, the President Goguet has, in vol. ii., book v., ch. iii., of his Origin of Laws, &c., collected a great mass of curious in- formation, to which I beg leave to refer my readers. From all that can be gathered on the subject it appears that this art was yet extremely rude. But practice, which matures all ai1s, very soon reduced this into a system; and the Greeks, in a very eaj-ly period of their history, seem to have become greater j)roficienl3 in war than any of the civilized nations. About 80 years after the taking of Troy, began the war of the Heraclidae. Perseus, the founder of Mycena;, left the crown to his son Electryon. Amphitryon, die grandson of Perseus, by Alceus, married Alcmena, the daughter of Electryon, and thus "bunded a double title of succession to that sovereignty; but l:av- ng involuntarily killed his fadier-in-law, he was obliged to fly his country, while the sceptre was seized by his uncle Sdienelus, the Drother of Electryon. By this act of usurpation, Hercules, the son of Amphitryon and Alcmena, was excluded from the throne of Mycenrc. Eurysthcus, the son and successor of Slhenelus, • Iliad, 1. 23. aO UMVF.nsAI. IIISTOI'.V. [dOOK I fMidoavorcd to (l■'). to conceal her : while the husband continued to sleep as L- •ories with his companion?, and to see his . tlie birth of a cliild made him known at once as a iiusband and a father.* 1^7 ^g ''Id b3c!ie'.-''¥ THfv viin V comoiel'.ed 'o waik nake republic possessed a very strong principle of duration. We shall see that in reality it subsisted much longer without any important revolution than any other of the states of Greece. The first material change, however, upon the system of Lycurgiis was made within 130 years of his own time, by the introduction of a new magistracy, under the name of the Ephori. Theopom- pus, 'one of the kings, jealous of the power of the senate, which was generally supported by the concurring judgment of the people, devised a plan for influencing their resolutions, by giving them a set of officers of their own body. These officers, termed Ephori. were five in number; they were elected by the people, and enjoyed a similar but a higher power than that of the tribunes of Jie people at Rome. Instituted at fiist to form an equipoise between the senate and people, they gradually usurj)ed a paramount power in the state. They could, by their own ainhority, expel or degrade the senators, and even punish them capitally for any ollence which they might interpret into a state crime. The kings themselves wijre under their control, and the Ephori had a right to fine them and put them in arrest; a dangerous prerogative, which it was easy to see would never stop short of absolute power; and accordingly they assumed at length the function of deposing and putting the kings to death. These, on the other hand, still nomi nally the chief magistrates, plotted against the power and persot.a oftlie Ephori; they bribed, deposed, and murdered them. Thus in the latter periods of the Spartan commonwealth, nistead of that equal balance established by the original plan of Lycurgus, there wa? between the dilTcrent branches of this constitution a perpetual contention for superiority, the continual source of faction and dis- order. Most of the internal causes which in time operated to the decline and fall of the Spartan government, particularly to be found 'n those institutions which led to the corruption of manners, have been already noticed. These silently undermined this |)i)iiticai fabric; while other causes external of its constitution were the more direct and innnediate causes of its destruction. These shall VOL. I. 13 d8 UNIVERSAL jiisTonr. [dook 1 be opened in ilieir order, while we jjiirsue the general oiiilincs of tlie naiional history ; after a brief dehnealionof the rival repub- lic of Athens, to which we proceed in iho next chapter. CHAPTER X. TriK Rktubi-ic of Athens — Revolution in the Slates of Attica — Regal Government abolished — perpetual Arcbons — Draco — Solon — His Institu- tions — Senate — Areopagus re-estaldisiied — Power of tlie Popular Assemblies — Laws — Ostracism — Appeal from all Couits to the People — Alanners — Reve- nue — Grecian History continued, Pisistratus, Hippias, and Hipparchus — Alcmffionidce. I HAVE, in a former chapter, observed that Greece, in the early- part of her history, probably owed some of her greatest political revolutions to her first colonies. The prosperity which the mother country saw her children enjoy in their new settlements, while she herself was yet groaning under the worst of all servitude, that of a bad government, naturally inspired an eager wish to attain if possible a similar freedom of constitution. The domestic disorders of Attica, in particular, had grown to a great height. The union of its states by Theseus was but a forced league of association : it was the consequence of the subordinate cities being involved in frequent quarrels, and lience courting the aid of the principal, that the latter thus acquired a sort of dominion over the whole of them. To bind these firmly together it was necessary to annihilate in the smaller states this sense of dependence on the prinr'jial ; to make them all parts of the same body, by abolishing their particular magistracies, bringing about a submission to the same general magistrates, and giving them a common system of laws- Theseus, and his immediate successor, had attempted this, but were unequal to the task. The disorders which arose from the tyranny of some of those princes effected an union which their slender political talents had labored in vain to accomplish ; but an union hostile to their powers, which had for its end the aboli- tion of the regal office. Codrus, the last of the kings, was, as we have seen, a true patriot, and worthy to reign : but he having sacrificed his own life to save his country, the Athenians, dreading i renewal of their former oppression, determined to make the trial of a new constitution. They were ignorant, however, of the best means of obtaining what they desired. They abohshed the title CH. X.] ATHENS. 99 of king, while the magistrates whom they put in his place enjoyed ahiiost tlie same autliority. From respect to the memory of Codriis, they appointed his sou Medon chief magistrate, with tiie title of archon or commander. They conferred on him the office for Yil'e, and even continued it hereditary in his family ; so that tlie Athenian republic was governed for 331 years by a succession of perpetual archons of the family of Codrus. Of the difference between their authority and that of the former kings, historians have given us no distinct idea. Some writers, indeed, tell us, in general terms, that the perpetual archons were accountable to the people for their conduct, — a control which the kings did not acknowledge ; — but as to the ])recise nature of the Athenian gov- ernment at this time, we are, on the whole, extremely ignorant. This form, however, of a monarchy in all its essentials, though without the name, became in the end equally grievous as that which had preceded it. The perpetual archonship was abolished, and the office was now conferred for ten years. Even this dura- tion was found repugnant to the prevailing spirit of democracy ; and after submitting for a few years to the decennial archonship, they reduced the term to a single year, and appointed nine magis- trates with equal authority. Of these the chief was called by pre- eminence the archon^ and, like the Roman consuls, gave his name to the current year in the state annals. The second archon had the title of kiiig^ (/JwaiAf uc,) and was the head of the religion of the state ; the third was termed the pohmarck^ from his function of regulating all military affairs. The remaining six archons were called thesmollietai, and held the office of judges in the civil courts of the republic. The whole body of_ nine formed the supreme council of the state. Meantime tne constitution was by no means strictly defined. The laws framed during the regal government, and accommodateil to that despotic authority, were quite unsuitable to the democratic spirit now become predominant ; and no attempts had yet been made for their alteration or im|trovement. The limited power of the annual magistrates was insufficient to check those factions and disorders which a yearly returning election kept constantly alive ifi the mass of the neople. A virtuous citizen of the name of Draco, whose eminent quali- ties had raised him to the dignity of chief archon, was prompted to attempt a n form, by introducing a code of laws* which might operate as a restraint on all orders of the state. Presuming that a desperate disease requires a violent remedy, and probably influ- enced by the austerity of his own temper, the penal laws which he framed made no distinction of offences, but punished all equally • Thpre wore probably no written laws at Athens before those of Draco.- Jlul. Cell. I 1., c. 15. 100 UNIVERSAL insTonv. [book I with (Icaili. Tlio a;ciiiiis of Draco was evidently nncrjiKiI to tlio :ask lie had uiidcrlakt'ii . lie made some changes of form wilhoul the essence. He weakened, it is said, the authority of liie Areo- pagus, and instituted a new tribunal, of wim li the judges were termed ephelai^ but which was of no duration ; and the extreme severity of his laws defeated their own object. They were rarely executed, and fell at length into con)|)letc disuse. In the 3d year of the 4Gtli Olympiad, and .'394 years before tha Christian era, Solon, a noble Athenian, of the posterity of Codrus, attained the dignity of archon, and was solemnly intrusted by his countrymen with the high power of new modelling the slate, and framing for the Athenians a complete digest of civil laws. Solon was a man of extensive knowledge, a virtuous man, and a true patriot ; but he seems to have been deficient in that strength of mind and intrepidity of nature which are absolutely necessary for the reformation of a corrupted government. His disposition was too placid and too temporizing. He aimed not at changing the character of his people, nor did he at all attempt to introduce that equality among the citizens so essential to the constitution of a democracy. Accommodating himself to the prevailing passions of men, rather than endeavoring to correct them, his laws, as he said himself, were not the best possible, but the best which the Athenians were capable of receiving.* The people claimed the chief power in the state — Solon gave it them. The rich wanted offices and dignities — the system of Solon accommodated them to the utmost of their wishes. He divided the whole citizens into four classes. In the three former were the richer gtizens, according to their different degrees of wealth. The first class consisted of those who were worth 500 medimni of grain, or as many measures of oil ; the medimnus, according to Arbuthnoi's tables of weights and measures, was somewhat more than four English pecks. The second class con- sisted of those who were worth 300 medimni, and who were able to furnish a horse in time of war. The third class comprehended such as had 200 medimni ; and the fourth class consisted of all the rest of the citizens. All the dignities and offices of the com- monwealth were supplied out of the three first classes, or the wealthy citizens ; but the fourth, which was much more numerous than all the other three, had their right of suffrage in the Ecclesia, public assemblies, where the whole important business of the state was canvassed and determined. The framing of laws, the election of magistrates, the making war or peace, the forming treaties and alliances, and the regulation of all that regarded either religion or civil policy, were debated and decreed in the public assemblies ; * Plutarch's Life of Solon. CH. X.J SOLON. 101 where the fourth class, from tiieir vist superiority of niunbers, carried every question, and of course had Supreme rule. In these assemblies every citizen above fifty years oi a,2;e had the privilege of haranguing.* ' ; ;■.•['-..' To counteract the mischief of a govehirnent' entirely in the hands of the people, and to regulate in some measure the proceedingb of those assemblies, necessarily tumultuous and undecisive, Solon instituted a senate of 400 members, chosen from among the most respectable of the citizens, whom he invested with the power of deliberating on and preparing all public measures before they came under the cognizance of the popular assemblies; a regulation which gave rise to this just remark of Plutarch, that Solon employed the wise men to reason, and the fools to decide. No motion or over- lure with regard to the affairs of the commonwealth could take its origin in the Ecclesia: it must have been previously canvassed and debated in the Senate. This great council was augmented to 500, and afterwards to GOO, upon an increase of number of the Athenian tribes. Still further to restrain and moderate the proceedings of the pub- lic assemblies, Solon re-established the authority of the Areopagus, which Draco had abridged and weakened by the institution of the Epketai. And this tribunal, of whose origin and constitution we have formerly treated, was now invested with more extensive powers and privileges than it had ever before enjoyed. To this august assembly Solon committed the guardianship of his laws, ancl the charge of executing them. They had the custody of the public treasury — and, as Plutarch informs us in the Life of The- mistoclcs, the charge of its expenditure ; but this last seems to be inconsistent with the powers lodged in the senate and peoi)l'.\ The court of Areopagus, likewise, had a tutorial power over all the youth of the republic. They appointed them masters and governors, and superintended their education. They were likewise the censors of the manners of the people, and were employed to punish the idle and disorderly, and reward the diligent and industri- ous. For this purpose, they were empow(!red to inquire minutely into the private life and conduct of every citizen; the funds he * To (jivp some 'ulea of the nuinbrrs which constitulcd the public asseinhly, or the liccrislature of AtluMis, \vp loam from two polls of the cilizcns IIkU were taken, first in llie time of Pericles, anil afterwards in that of I)emetri\is I'halereu.^, that the .Allionian citizens in the former [jeriod amounted to 11 ,040 persons, and in the latter to yi ,()()(). The reiiiainiti;r [inpnlation of the repiitilic consisted of slaves, male and female, and children and youth under the aire of manhood. The former, namely, the actual slaves, amounted to no less than 400.000. The propor- tion of the free citizens to slaves was still smaller at I.acediemon than at .\tliens ; whence we may jud;re how fir liherly was trnlv the characteristic of thes<> ancient repnUlics, whose constitution has been the subject of so much fnolish admiration See (lill/is's Translation itf Lysias and Isocratcs, Pre/. ; and Mitford's Greece, vol. ■ p 2:^'3.— rituciid. I. viii. c. 40 J02 i;mvi;u.sau iiistokv. [bouk i. possessed, tl)o profession Iw? followed, and the manner in uliicli lie spent liis rime: an .exvjJI-.'iit instiliilion, if wu could suppose il to he spicily enforced. Tlic rc^ilalion of every thing that regarded reli;;joi: -ads Mkewisf.- oornniiMed to this high trihiinal. I have remarked, in a former cha|)ler, that the niunher o( the Areoj)agitcs seems to have been various at diHerent periods ; as some authors mefition this tribunal as consisting only of nine judges, others of thirty-one, and others again of fifly-onc. Nay, there is a prohahility that, in the more advanc(;d times of the common- uealih, th(> numbers wore even quadruple wliat has been men- tioned. If the trial of Socrates j)roceeded before this court, uhirh the nature of his crime Ctiic charge of attacking the religion of his country) makes it presumable it did, we find 281 judges who voted against him, besides those who gave their sufTrages in his favor. The judges of the Areopjigus were chosen from among the most respectable of the citizens, and were generally such as had dis- charged the office of archon. The most scrupulous attention was |)aid to character in the election of these judges. Tiie slightest imputation of immorality, a single act of indecency, or even of unbecoming levity, was sufficient to disqualify from obtaining a seat in that tribunal, or to forfeit a place after it had been conferred. To be found in a tavern was such a stain on the character of a judge, that it was deemed a sufficient reason of exclusion from that office. Let no Jlreopagite, sa}s the Athenian laws, compose a comedy. That judge was justly thought to have prostituted his character, who had stooped to employ his talents in furnishing a frivolous amusement for the people. The institution of the senate, and the revival of the authority of the Areopagus, imposed undoubtedly some restraint on the pro- ceedings of the popular assemblies. But still the Athenian pop- ulace had the ultimate power of decision in all tiie affiiirs of the commonwealth ; a constitution that must have rendered fruitless the regulations of the wisest legislator that ever existed. The subsequent detail of the Grecian history will afford some strong instances of the miseries which flow from so defective a form of government. " Ilia vetus Grcecia, (says Cicero,) qti(t qvondam opib^isi, imperio, gloria Jloruit^ hoc tmo malo concidit^ Ubcrlate immoderata ac licciitid co7icfon«m." * It was not alone by this disease, as we shall show in its proper place, although that must unquestionably be allowed to have had a great influence. Athens, in particular, was from that cause a scene of incessant disorders and combustion. Continual factions divided the people, and it was •"Ancient Greece herself — once floiirisliincf in dominion, wealili, and fame ffll by this disease alone — the immoderate freedom and licentiousness of iier popular assemblies." CH. X.J ATHENS. IOC often in the power of a venal orator, a worlliless deniagcgue, whose only merit was a voluble tongue and dauntless effrontery, to counteract the measures of the greatest political wisdom, and persuade to such as were ruinous and disgraceful. Athens often saw her best patriots, the wisest and most virtuous of her citizens, shamefully sacrificed to the most depraved and most abandoned. The particular laws of the Athenian state were, generally speaking, more deserving of encomium than its form of govern- ment. Solon restrained the severity of creditors to their debtors, by prohibiting all imprisonment for debt; but he restrained at the same time the frequency of contracting debts by the severe penalty of the forfeiture of the rights of citizenship; a punishment which, though it did not reduce a man to servitude, deprived him of all voice in the public assembly, or share in the government of the commonwealth. In like manner, if a debtor died insolvent, his lieir was disfranchised till the debt was paid. This was a wise regulation; for no indigent man ought to be a legislator. The Areopagus, by an inquiry termed dokimasia, inquired into the life and morals of all who held offices in the state, and such as could not stand the scrutiny were not only incapacitated for employ, but declared infamous. Such was the award likewise against a son who should refuse to support his indigent parents. Solon ordained that a man's inheritance should be equally divided among all his lawful children, and allowed no higher provision to an illegitimate child than Jive mince. He permitted a husband to divorce his wife on restoring her dowry; and a wife to leave her husband upon reasonable cause shown to a judge, and allowed by him. By the Athenian laws, children, whose fathers were killed in the service of their country, were appointed to be educated at the public expense. " Let the father" (says the laws of Solon) " have the privilege of bestowing on that son a funeral encomium, who died valiantly fighting in the field. He who receives his death while fighting with undaunted courage in the front of the battle, shall have an annual harangue spoken to his honor." The laws relating to slaves did great honor to the humanity of the Athenians, and formed a strong contrast to the inhuman usages which prevailed with regard to them at Laced?Rmon. All Athe- nian slaves were allowed to purchase their freedom at a price stipulated by the magistrate. If any slave found his treatment intolerably severe, and was unable to purchase his freedom, he might oblige his master to sell him to another who would use him better. The emancipation of a slave, however, did not exempt him from all the duties to his master. He was still bound to the performance of certain services which the law prescribed, and to show him due homage and respect as a patron and benefactor. Such enfranchised slaves were not admitted to the rights of citi- zens. They were not allowed to attend the public assemblies; nor could they hold any office in the commonwealth. Their 104 UNIVF-IISAL III.STOKV. [nOOK I iifranchist.'mcMU relieved iliein only from the liar(lslii|)S of servi- tude. Yet tiiey might marry free women; and their cliildren by such had all the rie;hts of citizens. It was a very singular law of the Athenians, which permitted a man to becjucaih his wife, like any other part of his estate, to any one whom he chose for his successor. The mother of Demos- thenes was left by will to Aphobus, with a fortune of eigldi/ viUice. The form of such a bequest has been |)reserved, and runs thus: '' This is the last will of Pasio the Acharnean. I bcfjueaih my wife Archippe to Phormio, with a fortune of one talent in Pepar- rhetus, one talent in Attica, a house worth a hundred uiinx, together with the female slaves, the ornaments of gold, and whatever else may be in it." * One law of a very improper tendency, was peculiar to the state of Athens: — it was that which allowed a popular action for most offences, — or permitted any citizen to be the prosecutor of any crime committed against a citizen. An injury done to an individ- ual, it is true, is not only an offence against tiiat j)erson, but like- wise against the state, whose laws are thereby violated: yet it is a very dangerous policy to allow to any person whatever of the public, a right of prosecuting the aggressors. It is easy to con- cede what a source would thus be opened for unjust, revengeful, and calumnious prosecutions. It is true, that the mischiefs which might possibly arise from this law were counteracted, in some measure, by another ordinance, which declared, that any accuser or prosecutor who had not a fifth pari of the votes in his favor should pay a heavy fine; but the remedy was not adequate to the evil — for even the most calumnious accusations might often find a fifth part of the people to support them; and tl>e rich would seldom be restrained from the gratification of malevolence or revenge by a pecuniary fine. This leads to the mention of one most impolitic and pernicious law; not indeed peculiar to Athens, but common likewise to the states of Argos, Megara, Miletus, Syracuse, and others. Solon, who found the temperament of his countrymen repugnant to those rigorous restraints on the accumulation of wealth which Lycurgus had established at Sparta, was desirous however of providing some security against the danger which might arise in a democracy, from any individual attaining an inordinate degree of power or influence. For this purpose the Athenian lawgiver retained and enforced an ancient institution termed the Ostracism^ which was said to have been first introduced in the age of Theseus. The professed object of this institution was not the pimishment of offenders. It was not requisite that a man should be accused of any crime to deserve the sentence of the ostracism. It was enough Jones's Coinmcnturi^ on Isans. CH. X.] ATHENIAN OSTIiACISM. 105 ihat any person, eltlicr from his wcallli, his uncommon talents, or even his eminent virtues, should become an object either of envy, or of public praise and admiration. When a citizen had arrived at that degree of credit as to fall under either of those descriptions, and to offend by too much popularity, any individual of the people might demand an ostracism. The ceremony was this: every citizen who chose took a shell or piece of tile, on which having written the name of the person in his Oj)inion the most obnoxious, he carried it to a certain place in the forum, which was inclosed with rails, and had ten gates, for ten tribes. Officers were appointed to count the number of shells; for, if they were fewer than 6000, the vote did not take place. If they exceeded that number, the several names were laid apart, and the man whose name was found on the greatest number of shells^ was banished for ten years from his country; his estate in the meantime remain- ing entire for his own use or that of the family. This "s/ie//i'?i^," though it has found its advocates, as ajiparently consonant in theory to the spirit of a pure republic, was in pactice a barbarous, disgraceful, and impolitic institution. It powerfully repressed ambition; but it was by discouraging merit and the desire of excellence. It afforded an easy handle for the worst and most dangerous members of the commonwealth to rid themselves of the worthiest and the best: thus counteracting its own end, and j)aving the way for that usurpation against which it was intended as a barrier. It recommended the worst passions of the human mind under the disguise of the best: it substituted envy for patriot- ism, made virtue criminal, and stained the nation with the most op- probrious character, — that of public ingratitude. Thus we find, in the course of the history of this republic, that virtue, without the imputation or suspicion of ambitious views, was frequently the victim of this pernicious law. It was enough that Aristides by his virtues had merited the glorious epithet of just: that e])ithc't, in the eyes of the Athenian people, was sufficient crime. Wlicn Aristides himself was passing by, an illiterate rustic requested him to write upon his shell the name of Jiristides. Why, what harm, my friend, said the other, has Aristides done you.^ None in the world, replied the clown; but I hate to hear every body call niin the Jusl. Thucydides, from whom Athens had received the most eminent services, at length the victim of ostracism, composed in his exile that history in which he records the fame of his ungrateful country; a fact which has drawn from Cicero this severe but just remark: — "Hos libros tum scri|)sisse dicitur, cum a republica remotus, et id quod optimo cuique civi Athenis accidere soliium est, in exilium pulsus esset."* With much reason does Valerius * " Those proat works are said to have been wrillou when he was driven into exile; tlie coiiirnon reward bestowed hy Alliens on her most viiluom citizens." VOL. I. 14 lOG UNIVERSAL HISTOKV. [iJOOK I Maxiiims, irftcr cnuiiicratiiig the instances of similar ingratitude to Miki;ules, to Cimoii, to Tliemistoclcs, to Pliocion, atui particularly to Arisliclos, exclaim with bitter irony: — "Felices Atlicnas, quae post illius exilium invcnirc aliquem aut viruin Loiuiiu, aut amantem sui civcin poliicrunt." * The laws of Solon, unlike those of Lycurgus, were all com- mitted to writing: but one fault, common to all the laws of the Athenian legislator, was the obscurity wiih which they were expressed: a capital defect indeed of laws, when, instead of a clear warning voice, which, teaching every man his duty, represses litigation, they mislead by their obscurity, and are thus the per- petual source of contest and chicane. It was a singular peculiarity of the constitution of Athens, and, as Plutarch informs us, likewise of Thebes, that after a law was voted and passed in the assembly of the })eople, the proposer of the law might have been cited in the ordinary civil courts, tried, and brought to punishment, if the court was of opinion that the law was prejuilicial to the public. This peculiarity is noticed in one of Mr. Hume's political essays, (Of some remarkable Cxis toms,) and that author mentions several examples in the Grecian history; among the rest, the trial of Ctesiphon, for that law which he had pro])osed and carried, for rewarding the services of Demos- thenes with a crown of gold; atrial which gave occasion to two of the most splendid and animated orations that remain to us of the composition of the ancienis; the orations of i?mon, which demol- ished almost every dwelling in the ciiy, and destroyed about 20,000 of the citizens, the Heloies, taking advantage of the disorder from that calamity, rebelled, and joined themselves to the Messenians, with whom the state was then at war. Sparta, at this crisis, solicited aid from Athens; and, to the shame of that common- wealth, it was debated in the public assembly whether the re(|uest should be complied with. Ephialtes, the orator, urging that the two states were natural enemies, and that the prosperity of the one depended on the abasement of the other, gave his advice to abandon Sparta to her calamities. Cimon nobly and powerfully combated this unworthy sentiment, and his counsel prevailed. He was entrusted with the charge of the expedition to assist the Laced;cmonians; and he was successfcil in ])utting an end to tho rebellion. Cimon owed his consideration with his countrymen not only lo the sj)lendor of his military talents evinced by his great and glori- ous successes, but to the remembrance of his father's virtues and services, and above all, to a generosity of character which delight- ed equally in acts of private bounty and public munificence. Any of these distinguished merits were sufficient at Alliens to sow die seeds of distrust and jealousy; but where all concurred, they furnished a certain and infallible preparative of the humiliation of their possessor. He had a rival too in the public favor, who sought his downfall as the means of his own elevation. This was Pericles, a young man of a noble family, of splendid powers, and great versatility of chai-acter; who knew how to veil his designs of ambition with the most consummate artifice. While he afiected the utmost moderation, declining all public employments or officf.'s, his coikluct seemed to be actuated by no other motive than an amiable diffidence of his own powers, which, however, he took care to display whenever occasion offiired, in animated and elo- quent speeches which breathed the most ardent and virtuous pat- riotism. His mind was liighlv cultivated by the study of literature and the sciences; and the affiibility of his manners fascinated all with whom he conversed. It was not difficult for a man of this character to gain high popularity at Athens; and joining himself to the party which opposed the measures of Cimon, and seizing a CH. I."] CIMOX PERICLES. 14j favorable opportunity when the popular mind was wound up to their purposes, that virtuous patriot fell a sacrifice, and was ban- ished by the sentence of the ostracism. The good understanding between Sparta and Athens could not be of long continuance. Their mutual jealousies broke out nfresh, and soon terminated in an open war between the two le- publics; and most of the minor states of Greece took a part \n the quarrel. Had these aimed at absolute freedom, it had perhaps been their best policy to have stood aloof, and suffered those domi- neering states to harass and weaken eacli other. But their own smallness and insignificance were a bar to any plan of republican independence. The danger from the Persians the common ene- my, was felt by all; and the smaller slates had no chance to escape ruin, but through their allegiance to the greater. In the course of this war between Athens and Sparta, Cimon, though in exile, eager to serve his country, came to the Athenian army with a hundred of his friends who had voluntarily gone with him to banishment. But the Athenians rejected his proffered ser- vice, and forced him to retire. His generous friends, forming themselves into a separate band, desperately precipitated them- selves upon the army of the Lacedaemonians, and were all cut ofF. This incident had a powerful effect in dispelling the popular prejudices against this illustrious character. The people of Athens were now convinced that they had been unjust and cruel to one of their best patriots. Pericles was aware of this change of senti- ment, and perceiving that his own popularity might suffer by a fruidess opposition, took the merit to himself of being the first proposer of a public decree for Cimon's recall from banishment. Pericles knew likewise that his rival's talents and his own sought a different field of exertion. ^V'hile Cimon's ability as a general and naval commander would give him sufficient employment at a distance, he himself could rule the republic at home with uncon- trolled authority. Ciuion accordingly returned to his country, after an exile of five years; before the end of which period Athens and Sparta hait renewed their alliance; and he sailed at the head of an armament of 200 ships of war against the Persians, then in the vicinity of Cyprus, with a fleet of 300 sail. The squadron of the Greeks attacked and totally destroyed them. Cimon at'terwards landed in Cilicia, and completed his triumph by a signal victory over Mega- byzes, the Persian i;eneral, at the head of a great army. Cimon now undertook and completed the reduction of Cyprus; but while besieging its capital, and in the very moment of victory, this he- roic man, wasted by disease and fatigue, died, to the general loss of Athens and of Greece. The army, at his special request when expiring, concealed his death, and proceeded with vigor in their operations till the object of the enterprise was gloriously accom- plished, and Cyprus added to the dominion of Athens. 142 UNIVERSAL nrsTORY. [nnoK it Tlic naval and military power of Persia was (.-omijlctely broken by iht'so rei)fato(l (Icft-als ; and all fiirilier liosiile operaiiorjs against liieir lormidablc enemy were abandoned for a considcraijic length of time. The military glory of the Giecks seems at this j)eriot to have l)cen at its highest elevation. They had maintained a long and successfMl war, and at length established an undisputed superiority over the greatest and most flouribhing of the con- Jemporar) empires of antiquity. The causes of this sujjeriority arc siifiieiently apparent. Greece undoubtedly owed many of her triumphs to those illustrious men who had the command of her fleets and armies; to Miltiades, to Aristides, to Themistocles, and to Cimon. But the noblest exertions of individuals would have availed little, without that spirit of union which bound together her separate stales in defence of their common liberties. Greece was only formidable while united. The Persian empire infi- nitely superior in power, and inexhaustible in resources, derived from the force of a despot an involuntary and reluctant species of association, very different from an union arising from the spirit of patriotism. The armies of the Persians, immense in their num- bers, were like the heavy and inanimate linjbs of a vast and ill- organized body. They yielded a sluggish obedience to the will of the head, but were totally incapable of any spirited and vigor- ous exertion. But a season of rest from the annoyance of a foreign foe was ever fatal to the prosperity and to the real glory of the Greeks. Their bond of union \vas no longer in force. The petty jealous- ies and quarrels of the different states broke out afresh, wiih an acrimony increased from their temporary suspension. Athens, which during the war had firmly attached to her alli- ance a great many of the smaller states, who, in return for protec- tion, cheerfully contributed their sup|)lies for carrying it on, was equally desirous of maintaining the sanie ascendant in a season of peace, and thus gradually sought to extinguish the original indepen- dence of the smaller states, and jicrpetuate their vassalage. But these were jealous of their freedom, and utterly scorned to become the slaves or tributaries of that ambitious republic. Unable, how- ever, to withstand her power, they had no other means of with- drawing themselves from her dominion, than by courting an alliance with her rival Laced;emon: for to show that they could at pleas- ure join themselves to either of these rival states, was, as they flattered themselves, a demonstration that they were not depen- dent on either. The smaller republics were therefore continually fluctuating between the scales of Alliens and Lacedarmon; a cir- cumstance which fomented the rivalship of the latter slates, and imbittered their animosities; while it increased the national dis- sensions, and ultimately induced that general weakness which paved the way for the reduciioi; and slaverv of Greece. From tin's period, too, the martial and the patriotic spirit began en. II.] ATHENS AND LACED^EMON. 143 alike to decline in (he Athenian republic. An acquaintaince with Asia, and the importation of a part of her wealth, had introduced an imitation of her manners, and a taste for iier luxuries. But the Athenian luxury was widely different from that of the Persians. With the latter it was only unmeaning s})lendor and gross sensual- ity ; with the former it took its direction from taste and genius: and while it insensibly corrupted the severer virtues, it is not to be denied that it led to the most elegant and refined enjoyments of life. The age of Pericles was the era of a change in the nalloi a. ipiritof the Athenians : a taste for the fine arts, which had hith- erto lain dorm uit from the circumstance of the national danger engrossing all the feelings and passions of men, began, now that this danger had ceased, to break forth with su|3rising lustre. The sciences, which are strictly allied to the arts, and which always find their chiei encouragement from case and luxury, rose at the same time to a great pitch of eminence. The age of Pericles is not the era of the highest national glory of the Greeks, if we understand that term in its best and proudest signification ; but it is at least the era of their highest internal splendor. Under this striking change, which is evidently pre- paratory to their downfall, we shall proceed to consider them. CHAPTER II. Adininist.rati in nf Porinlos — Poloponncsiaii War — Sii^jro of PIntrra — Akibiadci — Lys:m(lor — The Thirty Tyrnnls — Thrasybultis — Doath of Socralc^s — Re- treat of tlic Ten Thousand — War witli Persia torn)inaU.'d by the Peace of Anlalcidus. The di^ath of Cimon left Pericles for some lime an unrivalled iscendency in the republic of Athens ; but as the more his power mcreased, he used the less art to disguise his ambitious spirit, a faction was gratlually formed to oppose him, at the head of which was Tliucydides, the brother-in-law of Cimon, a man no less eminent for his wisdom and abilities than estimable for his integrity. He had powerful talents as aii orator, which he nobly exerted in ihe cause of virtue and the true interest of his rountrv ; but he was deficient in those arts of address in which his rival Pericles so eminently excelled. While Pericles amus(Ml the people with shows, or gratified them with festivals, and while he dissi})ated '.he in trMVF.nsAi. irisTonv. [nooK ii pnhlii- lro;H:irn in niinniii)'^ llic city with mn^riiificc-ul buildings, anJ lilt! (iiiosl prodiirlions of ilio arts, it was in vain that ThnrycJidcs, ardent in (he canso of virlno, prescntod to thoir minds the pictnie of ancient fiiigality and siniphcity, or iirirjcd the woakenins; of the power and re.-;oMrccs of the stale by this prodigal oxpenditnre of 'ler treasure. Pericles flattered the varity of his countrymen by representing their power as insuperable, and their resources as inexhaustible. It is probable that he was himself blinded by his ambition and vanity. He published an edict, rof|uiring all the states of Greece to send against a certain day their deputies to Athens, to deliberate on the common interest of the nation. Tiie Athenians looked on themselves as the masters of all Greece ; out they had the mortification to find that no attention was paid to their presumptuous mandate. Pericles, to palliate this wound to their vanity, from which his own credit was in some danger of suffering, ordered the whole fleet of thr> republic to be immediately equipped, and hastened to make an ostentatious parade tbrough the neighboring seas, by way of evincing the power and naval su])eriority of the Athenians. This, however, was a wise policy, and shows that Pericles knew human nature, as well as the pecu- liar character of the people whom he ruled. It was necessary to keep the Athenians constantly engaged, either with their amuse- ments or some active enterprise ; and in dexterously furnishing this alternate occupation lay the art of his government of a people which surpassed any other in fickleness of character. Fostered in their favorite passions, the Athenians grew every day more vain and presumptuous. They planned the most absurd schemes of conquest ; no less than the reduction of I2gy|n, of Sicily, of that part of Italy called .Magna Grcecia — and the subjection of all their own colonies to an absolute dependence on the mother state. Pericles now perceived that he had gone too far, and that, in flattering their vanity, he had given rise to schemes which must terminate in national disgrace and in bis own ruin. It was fortunate, both for him and for his country, that a seasonable rupture with Sparta gave a check to these romantic projects ; and the sagacious demagogue, from that time, discovered that to cher- ish the luxurious spirit of his countrymen was a safer means of maintaining his power than to rouse their vanit)' and ambition. The finances, however, of the republic were exhausted, and the ta^cs of course increased. The party of Thucydides complained of this in loud terms, and with great justice. But Pericles had tlie address to ward off this blow, by proudly ofTering to defray from his own fortune the expense of those magnificent structures which he had reared for the public. This was touching the right cord ; for neither the generosity nor the vanity of the Athenians would allow this ofler to be accepted ; and the result was a great increase of popularity to Pericles, and the complete humiliation of the party of his enemies. lie now signalized his triumph by CH. II.] PELOPON.NESIAN ^^ AR, 145 procuring the banishment of Thiicydidcs ; and on the pretence of establishing a (e\v new colonies, he dexterously got rid of the most turbulent of the citizens who traversed and opposed his govern- ment. The allies of the commonwealth, however, loudly comjilained that the public treasures, to which they had largely contributed, and which were intended for their common defence and security against the barbarous nations, were entirely dissipated, in gratify- nig the Athenian poj)ulace with feasts and shows, or in decorating; their city with ornamental buildings. Pericles haughtily answered, that the republic was not accountable to them for the employment of their money, w'hich was nothing more than the price they paid for the protection which they received. The allies might have replied with justice, that in ccMitributing supplies, they diil not dis- charge a debt or make a j)urchase, but conferred a de()Osit, to be faithfully employed for their advantage, and of th^ expenditure of which fliey were entitled to demand a strict account : but they durst not call Athens to account ; and Pericles and Athens were of one opinion. But an event now took j)lace, which silenced all inquiries of this nature, and bound the subordinate and confederate states in humble submission to the principal, — ^this was the war of Pelopon- nesus. The state of Corinth had been included in the last treaty be- tween Athens and Lacedaemon. The Corinthians had for some time been at war with the people of Corcyra, when both these states solicited the aid of the Athenians. This republic, after some deliberation, was persuaded by Pericles to take part with Corcyra ; a measure which the Corinthians with great justice complained of, not only as an infraction of the treaty wiili Sparta, but on the ground that Corcyra was their own colony; and it was a settled point in the general politics of Greece, that a foreign power should never interfere in the disputes between a parent state and its colony. A less important cause was sufficient to exasperate the Lacedaemonians against their ancient rival, and war was solemnly proclaimed between the two repul)lics. The detail of this war, which has been admirably written by Thucydides, one of the best historians as well as one of tiie greatest generals of antiquity, though it concerned only the states of Greece, becomes, by the pen of that illustrious writer, one of the most interesting subjects which history has recorded. Our plan excluding all minute details, as violating the due proportions in the comprehensive j)icturc of ancient history, necessarily con- fines us to a delineation of outlines. The greater part of the continental states of Greece declared for Sparta. Tini Isles, dreading the naval power of Athens, toolf part with thu republic. Thus the principal strength of Sparta was on land, and that of Athens at sea ; whence it may be judsed VOL. I. \j 146 uNivF.nsAi. insTORT. [nooK ii dial llio 0|»|)osiiig stales inig;lil long annoy each other, beftJie any approach to a ilecisive cngair;eni('nt. Tlie army of the Lace(Ja;monians, 'vhich amounted lo above GO,UUO uicn, was more than doiihle that of the Athenians and iheir allies. But this inequality was balanced by the great siipe- riorily of the maiinc of Athens. Their plan of military opcralions was, therefore, quite dilierent. The Athenian fleet ravaged the coasts of Peloponnesus ; while the army of the Laf-echcmonians desolated the territory of Attica and its allied states, and proceeded wiih little resistance almost lo the gates of Athens. The Athe- nians, feeling the disgrace of being thus braved u[)on their own territory, insisted, with great impatience, that Pericles should allow them to face the enemy in the field ; but he followed a wiser plan cf operation. He bent his whole endeavor to fortify the city, while he kept the Lacedaemonians constantly at bay by skirnnsliing parties of horse ; and, in the meantime, tl)e Athenian fleet of 100 sail was desolating the enemies' coasts, and plundering and ravaging the Spartan territory. The consequence was, the Spartans, abandoning all hope, which they had at first conceived, o( taking Athens by siege, ended the campaign by retreating into Peloponnesus. The Athenians, in honor of their countrymen who had lailen in battle, celebrated magnificent funeral games, and Pericles jn'onounced an animated eulogium lo their memory, which is given at large by Thucydides. In the next campaign, the Lacedannonians renewed the invasion of Attica ; and the invaded had to cope at once with all the horrors of war and pestilence ; for Athens was at this lime visited by one of the most dreadful plagues recorded in history. The particulars of this calamity arc painted in strong and terrible colors by Thu- cydides, who speaks from his own experience, as he was among those who were aHected, and survived the contagion. One extra- ordinary effect he mentions, which ue know, likewise, lo have ha))pened in other times and places from the same cause. The general despair produced the grossest profligacy and licentiousness of manners. It seems to be common, too, to all democratic gov- ernments, that every public calamity is charged to the account of their rulers. Pericles was blamed as the occasion, not only of the war, but of the pestilence; for the great numbers cooped up in the city were supposed to have corrupted the air. The Athe- nians, losing all resolution to struggle with their misfortunes, sent ambassadors to Sparta to sue for peace ; but this humiliating measure served only to increase the arrogance of their enemies, who lefused all accommodation, unless upon terms utterly dis- graceful to the suppliant state. Although Pericles had strongly dissuaded his countrymen from what he thought a mean and pusillanimous measure, they scrupled not to make him the victim of its failure, and with equal injustice and ingratitude, they de- prived him of all command, and inflicted on him a heavy fine. en. 11 J PEI.OPO.VNESIAV WAR. 147 But they found no change for the better from his removal. Those factions wiiich he had a matchless skill in managing and controlling, began to excite fresh disorders; and the very men who had solicited and procured his disgrace, were now the most eager to restore hirn to his former power. Such was the fickleness of die Athenian character; so fluctuating are the minds and the counsels of a mob — and so insignificant their censure and applause. This extraordinary man did not long survive the recovery of his honors and ascendency. On his death-bed he is said to have drawn comfort from this striking reflection, that he had never made one of his countrymen wear moinning; a glorious object of exulta- tion for the man who had run a career of the most exalted ambi- tion, who had sustained the character of the chief of his country, and in that capacity had at his command the lives and fortunes of all his fellow citizens. The eulogists of republican moderation and frugality have reproached Pericles with his ambition, his vanity, and liis taste for the elegant arts subservient to luxury and corruption of manners; and these features of his mind, without doubt, had a sensible influence on the character of his country; but his integrity, his generosity of heart, the wisdom of his coun- sels, and the pure spirit of patriotism which dictated all his public measures, have deservedly ranked him among the greatest men of antiquity. The celebrated Aspasia, first the mistress and afterwards the wife of Pericles, had from her extraordinary talents a great ascendency over his mind, and was supposed frequently to have dictated his counsels in the most important concerns of the state. She was believed to have formed a society of courtesans, whose influence over their gallants, young men of consideration in the rejiublic, she thus rendered subservient to the political views of Pericles. The adversaries ol his measures employed the comic poets, Eupolis, Cratinus, and others, to expose these political intrigues to public ridicule on the stage; but Pericles maintained his ascendency, and Aspasia her influence; for such were the powers of her mind, and the fascinating charms of her conversation, that even before her marriage and while exercising the trade of a courtesan, her house was the frecpicnt«resort of the gravest and most respectable of the Athf'uian citizens; among the rest, of the virtuous Socrates. The age of Pericles is the era of the greatness, the splendor, and the luxury of Athens, and consequently the period from which we may date her decline. The power of Athens was not built on any solid basis. She was rich only from the contributions of her numerous allies; and when these withdrew their subsidies and shook ofl" their dependence, which they were ever ready to do when they were not in danger, her power declined of course: for the territory of the republic was small and unproductive, and her internal resources extremely liiuited. Had Sparta adhered to the spirit of her constitution, she was much more independent than MB UMvr.r.sAr. history. [book ii Atlions. Her siliiaiion naturally gave licr tlie command of P».-]o- j)onne.siis. She conld employ the subsidies of iior allies to no other purposes than those for which they were destined; and therefore required no more than what the expenses of war necessarily demand- ed. Her confederate states, therefore, paid an easy price for jtro- tection, and conse(|uentIy found it always their best interest to ad- here to their allegiance. With these advantages, the balance was much in favor of Sparta, in her contest with Athens. I>ul one false step threw the weight into the opposite scale. The Spartans, eager to cope with the Athenians at sea as well as on land, solicited the aid of Persia to furnish them with a fleet. This measure, which opened Greece a second time to the barba- rians, annihilated the patriotic reputation of Laceda^mon, and de- tached many of the states from her allegiance, through the just dread of subjection to a foreign power. It is sufficient to give a general idea of the conduct of the Pelo- j)onnesian war; its detail must be sought in Thucydides and Xeno- ])hon. Thucydides lived only to complete the history of the first twenty-one years of the Peloponnesian war ; the transactions of the remaining six years were detailed by Xenophon, in his Grecian Ilistorv. Neither party seem to have pursued any fixed or uniform plan of operations. The theatre of war was continually shifting from one quarter of Greece to another, as occasional successes seemed to direct; but ignorant how to push advantages, and equally dispirited with trifling losses, the rival states were always alternately disposed to peace, or a renewal of hostilities. One of the most remarkable transactions of this war was the gal- lant defence made by the little town of Platara, which sustained a siege and blockade for near two years, against the power of the combined states of Peloponnesus. As this is the first regular siege of which history gives us any complete detail, a short narrative of its ])articulars, as described by Thucydides, will be useful, as illus- trating the state of the military art at that period, in so far as regards the attack and defence of fortified places. Plats-a, in the Boeotian district of Greece, and not far distant from Thebes, being frequently harassed by that republic, had allied herself to Athens as her surest defence against servitude and oppression. This alliance brouglit on her the hostility of the Peloponnesian confederacy : but remembering the signal services of this small state at the time of the Persian invasion, the Spartans proposed to compromise matters with Platjra, provided she re- nounc'ed her treaty of union with Athens, and put herself under the protection of Laceda^mon. The Athenians, in the meantime, sent the PlatJeans an assurance of all their support, and this determined PlatcPa to kee]) firm to her ancient friends. The Spartans, think- ing they had now fulfilled every obligation of honor, laid vigorous siege to the town, which contained only a miserable garrison of 400 citizens, 80 Athenians, and 110 women, besides children CIl. 11."] SIEGE OF PLATJEA. 149 The city was surrounded uiili a wall and ditch, around which the besiegers first planted a strong circle of wooden palisades. Then filling up a part of the ditch to serve as a bridge, they proceeded to raise a mound of earth against the walls, which they strengthened on the outside with piles closely wattled with branches, to give stability to the mound which was to serve as a stage for tlie engines of attav:ic. Meantime, the besieged, foreseeing that the enemy would soon be in possession of that part of the wall, while they took every means to annoy the assailants and impede their work by repeatedly undermining the mound, built a new wall in the inside, in the form of a crescent, so that, should the outer wall be gained, the enemy might still find an unforeseen impedinient to their approach. The besiegers made small progress, and were daily losing great numbers of men ; they therefore tried a new j)lan, wliich was, by heaping great quantities of wood covered with pitch and sulphur around the walls, to set fire to the city in different quarters at once. The experiment promised success, for there was an immense conflagration ; but fortunately for the besieged, a torrent of rain extinguished the fire. On the failure of this attempt, the besiegers determined to turn the siege into a blockade; and they now built two strong walls of brick around the town, which they strengthened on either side with a ditch and towers at small intervals ; and as the winter was at hand, the Boeotians were left to guard the walls and prevent all succors from without, while the Spartans and the rest of the allies return- ed to Peloponnesus. The situation of the Platscans was now extremely hopeless; their stores were exhausted, and no resource remained but to force a passage through the enemy's works. This one half of the garrison attempted and executed in a very daring manner. They took advantage of a dark and stormy night, and mounting the enemy's inner wall by ladders, they surprised and cut to pieces the guards in the towers, and were descending the outer wall, when the alarm was given, and the Boeotians were in a moment all in arms; 300 of these with lighted torches, rushing to the place, served only to give more advantage to the Platit-ans, by showing them where to direct their darts and stones while they passed by them in the dark. In a word, they made good their osrapi* to Athens; while the remaining jiart of the garrison next day surrendered at discretion, and were barbarously massacred l>y the exasperated Lacedaemonians. The whole operations of this siege indicate the very imperfect state to which the art of war had attained at that time, in the most warlike of the nations of antiquity. A truce was now concluded between the belligerent powers for fifty years; but this was observed only for a few months. Alclb- iades, who, after the death of Pericles, had obtained a high ascendant with the ^Vthenian people, which he owed not less to his noble birth and great riches than to his insinuating manners ITjO UNIVERSAL IIISTOIIY. [P-OOK li. and |)o\v(!is of cliMiuciico, .il lliis lime dircclcd all llic counsels of the republic. His iinihilion and his vaniiy were eqiiai lo those of his predecessor, but his measmes were not always the result of equal prudence. It seemed lo he ambition, and the desire of op))osini; his rival Nicias, that were the sole niojives of his conduct in prompting a quarrel between the people of Argos and Lacedsc- mon, uhich engaged the Athenians in support of the Argivcs to renew llie Peloponncsian war. The Argivcs, however, had more prudence than iheir new allies, and made a peace for ihcmselves. Disappointed in this project, Alcibiades now turned his views to the conquest of Sicily — a more s|)lendid object of ambition; but equally unsuccessful, and much more disastrous in its consequences. The plan of conqueiing Sicily had been among those wild pr( jects cherished by ihe Athenians, but from which they had been di^^^;ad- ed by the ])rudeiice of PcricUis: it was now resumed on the fr'vo- lous ground that the Egestans and Leoiitines, two Sicilian states, had requested the Athenians to protect them against the ojiprcssion of Syracuse. Nicias attempted to convince his countrymen of the folly of embroiling tlieiiKielves in this quarrel, which was a sufficient motive wiih Alcibiades to encourage it. The expedition was there- fore undertaken, and committed lo four generals, Nicias, Lamachus, Demosthenes, and Alcibiades; but the latter had scarcely landed in Sicily, when he was called back to Athens to defend himself against a charge of treason and impiety. As every thing there was carried by a faction, Alcibiades was condemned, and escaped a capital punishment only by taking refuge al Sparta, and ofl'ering his warmest services to the enemies of his country. Meantime the dissensions of the Athenian generals, the time wasted in besieging soinq small sea-ports, and the arrival of succors from Lacediemon, which strcnglheneu and inspirited the Syracusans, combined to the total failure of the enterprise. After a fruitless nttempt iq)on Syracuse, in the course of which Lamachus was killed, and after various engagements both by sea and land, in which the invarling fleet and army were always obliged to act upon the defensive, tiie Athenians were totally defeated. They now attempted a retreat, but being closely pursued they were forced at length to surrender prisoners of war, leaving their fleet in the hands of the enemy, and sti|)nlating only that their lives shoidd be spared. This condition the Syracusans fulfilled as to the army, but, with a refinement of barbarism, they scourged to death the two generals, Nicias and Demosthenes. Such was the miserable issue of this ill-concerted expedition. The consequences of these disasters were, on the whole, not without some benefit to the Athenians. Their foolish pride was humbled, their inconsiderate ambition checked, and some wise and vigorous reforms were made in the constitution of the republic Among these was the institution of a new council of elders, whose function was to digest and prepare the resolutions touching al) CH. II.] AI.CIIilADES. 151 pu' lie measures, before ihey were proposed in llie puoFK; assembly. Tliis, as a judicious wriier has reniarked, " was providing for the prudence of executive govern uent, but not for vigor, for secrecy, and for despatch:" a deficiency in these capital points is inseparable from a constitution purely democratical. "We have remarked that Alcibiades had taken refuge at Lace- dajmon. Here he soon attained both confidence and iiigh employ- ment; but this glimpse of favor, which the traitor ill-deserved, was of short din'ation. The principal men among the Lacedaemonians could ill brook those marks of favor and preference to a stranger and a refugee. His character was known as that of a thorough- paced politician ; his motives were therefore always sus])ccted ; and while ostensibly employed in the service of Sparta with the Greek states of Asia — a service which had no other end than his own private interest — a party at Laccdff;mon had procured his condemnation for treason against the state. He got a seasonable intimation of his danger, and betook himself for protection to Tissaphernes, the Persian governor of Sardis. In the eighth year of the Peloponnesian uar, the Persian mon- arch, Artaxerxes Longimanns, died. He was succeeded by Xerxes the Second, his only legitimale son, who was soon after as assiuated by his natural brother Sogdianus. This prince was dethroned a few months after, by his brother Ochus, who assumerl the najne of Darius, to which the Greeks added the surname of Noihus, or the Bastard. He was a weak prince, controlled entirely by his queen Parysatis, a woman of great artifice and ambition. His reign was a continued series of rebellion and disturbance. The versatile character of Alcibiades could accommodate itself to all situations. At Athens he had alternately llattered the nobility and the populace. At Sparta he assumed, with admirable hypocrisy, the simple and austere manners of a Lacedicmonian. At Sardis, the easy companion of the luxury and debauchery of Tissaphernes, he gained over that satrap the most entire ascen- dency. This situation he attempted to turn to his advantage, by making his peace with his countrymen of Athens. He otVered them the alliance of Tissaphernes, and of conseipiencc the supe- riority over Sparta, and a termination of the ruinous war of Pelo- ponnesus ; but he made the absolute conditions of these advantages liis own recall, and a change of the Athenian constitution from a popular government to an oligarchy of the principal citizens. The spirit of Athens was broken ; patriotic virtue was at low ebb ; and a continuance of war, and of the tritnn|)hs of her rival state, ofiered a prospect of nothing but ruin. The terms of Alcibiades were complied with. The government of the rej)ublic, was committed to four hundred of the nobles, who were vested with absolute authority. No sooner was intelligence of this sudden and extraordinary revolution brought to the Athenian army at Samos, than they 152 UMVKUSAI, HISTOIIV. [bOOK II followed a conduct cfjiinlly extraordinary. Tlioy deposed from connnand those generals whom they suspected of favoring the revolution ; they sent deputies into Asia, to court aid from the very man who was its author ; they solicited him to return to take the chief command, and rescue their country from its new tyrants. Suri)risc(l and delighted with this most unexpected issue to his schemes, Alciblades eagerly embraced the oflcr. lie would not, however, return till lie had merited his pardon by some important services. The Laceda^nonian fleet under Mindarus had seized tiie island of Euboea, a most essential dependency upon Athens. Alcibiades defeated Mindarus in two naval engagements, and recovered that important island. The people of Athens, exas- perated at their new governors, to whose weakness.and contentions they attributed the loss of Euboea, began to look towards the man who had recovered it as the prop and stay of his country. He had increased his triumphs by the capture of Byzantium, Chalce- don, and Salymbria, which had revolted from the Athenian govern- ment; and when he appeared with his ships of war in the port of Piraeus, all Athens rushed forth to hail liis arrival, and to crown him with garlands of victory. The government of the four hun- dred nobles was now abolished, the ancient constitution renewed, and Alcibiades declared chief general of the republic by sea and land. For twenty-eight years the Peloponnesian war was carried on with various success. The military talents of Alcibiades were displayed in several important victories. While successful, he was the idol of his country. But in all democracies, and democratic governments, the j)opuIarity of those in power must keep pace with the success of the public measures. A single battle lost in Asia deprived Alcibiades of all his power, and he became a second time an exile from his country. But it would appear that his absence was always fatal to the Athenians. The fleet of the republic at -(Tigos-Potamos, through the carelessness of its com- manders, was entirely destroyed by Lysander, the admiral of the Lacedicmonians. Of three hundred ships which had sailed from the Piraeus, only eight returned to the coast of Attica. Athens, besieged by sea and land, was now at the last extremity. Iler fleet, which was the main defence of the republic, was anni- hilated. After sustaining a blockade of six monilis, the Athenians offered to submit, on the condition that their city and the harbor of Piiffius should be saved from destruction. The Spartans and allied states took this proposal into consideration. The allies strenuously urged the total destruction of the Athenian enijiire and name. But the Sjiartans were more generous. They con- cluded a peace on the following conditions, — that the fortifications of Pirrrus should be demolished ; that Athens should limit the number of her fleet to twelve ships ; that she should give up all tlie towns taken during the wai* ; and, for the future, undertake no en. II ] LYSAXDER. 153 military enterprise but under tlie comaiand of the LacedaR.iionians Such was the issue of the famous war of Peloponnesus. It Ts to the same Lysander who had the merit of terminating tliis destructive war so gloriously for his country, that all the ancient writers have attributed the first attack upon the system of Lycnrgus, and the begmning of the corruption of the Spartan constitution. Gold was now for the first time introduced into Lacedaemon. Ly- sander sent home an immense mass of plunder which had been taken in Greece and Asia during the war of Peloponnesus. This was a direct breach of the fundamental laws of the state; but the period was now come, when such a measure was not only justifia- ble, but necessauy. The truth is, that the institutions of Lycurgus were fitted for a rude period of society, and adaj)ted to the reg- ulation of a small, a warlike, and an independent commonwealth. His system was quite repugnant to the spirit of conquest, and the manners that are inseparable from extensive dominion. AMien Lacedaemon came to aspire to the sovereignty of Greece, it was impossible for her to retain her ancient manners, or adhere to her ancient laws. To preserve the ascendency she had accjuired in Greece, it was necessary cither that she should herself accumulate treasures requisite to pay her dependants in the allied common- wealths, and grant them occasional subsidies, or to be herself dependent for those resources upon the Persian satraps. Lysander saw this necessity, and he took that alternative which appeared to him the least dishonorable. He procured the abrogation of that ancient law which prohibited the importation of gold into the repub- lic. It was not allowed a free circulation, but was dej)osited in the public treasury, to be em|)loyed solely for the uses of the state. It was declared a capital ofience if any should be found in the posses- sion of a private citizen. Plutarch censures this as a weak and soj)histical distinction. It was indeed easy to see, that whenever it became necessary for the state to be rich, it would soon become the interest and the passion of individuals to be so. This consequence inimedialr'ly followed; and though some severe examples were made of oflendors against the law, it was found impossible, from this period, to enforce its observance. The reduction of Athens by the Spartans occasioned an entiie change in the constitution of the Athenian republic. Lysander abolished the democracy, and substituted in its place an adminis- tralion of thirty governors, or, as the Greek historians term them, Tt/rants., (Tvos, prevailed on Pha^bidas to second his attempts against the liberties of his country. The Spartan general readilv gave his aid, and introducing his army, took possession of the citadel ; while the unsuspicious Thebans, trusting to the faith of the treaty, were employed in celebrating the festival of Ceres. Ismeniui", vol .1. 21 162 UNIVEnSAL HISTORY. [OOOK II. t))o chief of ilie (leinonatic interest, was seized and j)iit to death; and the principal men of his party escaped with j)recii)ilation from tlie city. Tlic conduct of the Spartans, in this juncture, sliovvs how unequal is the conflict between virtue and self-interest. Tliey acknowledged it an act of treason in Leontiades to have thus betrayed his country, and they reprobated the conduct of Phsbidas in giving his aid to a measure which was a direct infraction of a national treaty ; but being now masters of Thebes, they did not choose to abandon their acquisition. This shameful conduct was justly censured by all Greece. Four hundred of the chief citizens of Thebes had fled for protection to Athens. Among these was Pelopidas, the avenger and deliverer of his country. Maintaining a regular intelligence with such of the citizens as were friends to the cause of justice and patriotism, at the head of whom was the great Epaminondas, a plan was concerted for the recovery of Thebes, which succeeded to the utmost of their wishes. Pelopi- das, with eleven of his friends in the disguise of peasants, entered the city in the dusk of the evening, and joined the rest of the con- spirators in the house of a principal citizen, of the name of Charon. Philldas, who acted as secretary to the polemarchs or chief magis- trates of Thebes, was, secretly, a steady friend to the design ; and had purposely invited the chiefs of the oligarchy, and the ])rincipal of the Spartan conmianders, to a magnificent supper at his house ; where, as a part of the entertainment, he promised to regale his guests with the company of some of the handsomest of the Theban courtesans. While the guests, warm with wine, eagerly called for the introduction of the ladies, a courier arrived from Athens, and brought a letter to Archias, the chief governor, desiring it to be instantly read, as containing important business. " This is no time, " said the voluptuary, " to trouble us with busi- ness: we shall consider of that to-morrow." This letter contained a full discovery of the plot. Meantime, Pelopidas and his com- panions, dressed in female attire, entered the hall, and each draw- ing a dagger from under his robe, massacred the governor and the wliole of the Spartan officers, before they had time to stand upon their defence. The principal of their enemies thus despatched, they entered the houses of several others whom they knew to be Hostile to their purpose, and put them likewise to death. Such were the transactions of this busy night. But a strong garrison of 1500 Spartans were in possession of the citadel. Fortunately, a Dody of 5000 foot and 2000 horse, despatched from Athens, arrived early next morning to the aid of Pelopidas. Ejjaminondas called to arms all the citizens who wished the deliverance of their country, and put himself at their head : the associated troops laid siege to the citadel ; and in a very short time, the Spartans, seeing all resistance vain, agreed to open the gates and save the etfusion of blood by instantly evacuating Thebes. The capitulation was CH. HI.] BATTLE OF LEUCTRA. 163 agreed to; and Pelopidas and Epamlnondas were liailed the deliv- erers of tlieir country.* Thebes was now necessarily involved in a war with Sparta; but she had the assistance of Alliens. With this respectable aid she was, perhaps, a match for her powerful antagonist, but she did not long enjoy the advantage of that alliance: Persia, which since the last peace had acquired a title to mediate in the affairs of Greece, brought about an overture of accommodation between the contend- ing states. All articles were agreed upon, when a small punctilio exasperated the Thebans. They could not bear that their name should be classed among ihe inferior states of Greece; and Sparts was determined that it should. Neither party would yield, and Thebes was entirely struck but of the treaty, which was acceded to by all the other republics. Thus the Thebans stood alone, in opposition to the longue of Greece: but Epaminondas and Pelopidas were their generals. The battle of Leuctra showed how much may be achieved by the patri- otic exertions and abilities of a few distinguished individuals. The Theban army, amounting only to 6000 men, commanded by Epam- inondas, entirely defeated 25,000 Lacedaemonians, and loft 4000, with their king, Cleombrotus, dead upon the field. By the law of Sparta, all who fled from the enemy were doomed to suffer a capital punishment; but Agesilaus prudently sus])ended the law for a single day: the Spartans, otherwise, must have lost their whole army. It is remarkable, that when the news of this great defeat reached Lacedasmon, the citizens were engaged in celebrating the public games, and an immense concourse of strangers attended that solem- nity. The fatal intelligence spread a general alarm; but the Ephori, with admirable presence of mind, ordered the games to proceed without interruption. The best method of blunting the edge of misfortune is to brave it. The parents and relations of those who had fallen in battle went, next day, in solemn procession, to thank the gods that their sons had died in the bed of glory: while the relatives of those who had escaped, were overwhelmed with shame ai d affliction. The petty states of Greece always took part with a victorious power. Epaminondas, determined to push his success, and to penetrate into Lacouia, foimd his little army speedily increased to 70,000 men. With this force he might have razed Lacedaemon * In this accnnnt of tho rnvohilinn nf Tlipbfs, I linvo follnwfd tho niithority of Plutarch in proforonce to that of Xonophon, tlionph, in penorai, I admit tlint the credit of the latter is hifrher than lliat of tlic former. Hut Xenophon, with all his talents and virtues, was a man of stronrr |)re]iidires ; of which there cniiiiot be a more strikinrr example than this very narrative, in the whole of which he never once mentions the name of either Pelopidas or I^paminondas, to wiiom, not only Plutarch, but the general voice of tlie ancient authors, has attributed the principal agency in this revolution. KM UNIVKIISAI. IIISTORV. [bOOK II to ilio j^rotiiid, ;iii(l .'ibolislicd tl)o Spartan nanir: hiil lie was satisfied will) iKiviiii; checked their insolence and pfrfidy; and ho rctnrned to Tiiel)e.s, after havinj; rebuih the city of Mci;alopoiis, where he colleciod the Arcadians, and roijcopiod Messenc, from which the Spartans had driven out the inlial)itanis; tiuis re-cstabhshing, almost under the walls of Sparta, two of her ancient and most inveterate enemies. The liistory of the Grecian states affords too many examples that, under a constitution purely democratic, the public mind is so fickle that the highest efforts of virtue and patriotism are more frequcniJv repaid with ingratitude than wiih the rewards of honor and popidarity. Kpaminondas and P(>lopidas, on their return to Thebes, were accused of having retained their command four months beyond the term of their commissions, while engaged in the Peloponnesian expedition. This, on the specious pretext of a strict regard to military duty, was adjudged to be a capital offence, and the people were on the point of condemning to death those men who had not only rescued their country from servitude, but raised the Theban name to the highest pitch of glory. Epaminon- das undertook to defend the conduct of Pelopidas by taking the whole blanie upon himself. "I was," said he, "the author of those measures for which we stand here accused. I had indulged a hope that the signal success which, under our conduct, has attended the Theban arms, would have entitled us to the gratitude, and not to the censure of our country. Well! let posterity, then, be informed of our crimes and of our punishment. Let it be known that Epam- inondas led your troo])s into the heart of Laconia, which no hostile power till then had ever penetrated ; that his crime was that he abased the glory of Sparta, and brought her to the brink of ruin; that he made Thebes the most illustrious of die Grecian states; let it be inscribed on his tomb, that death was the reward which his country decreed for these services." The Thebans were ashamed of their own conduct; the judges dismissed the charge, and the people atoned for their ingratitude by the strongest expressions of praise and admiration. Yet tliis rectitude of feeling was only temporary. All the states of Peloponnesus supported by Thebes were at war with Sparta. The other republics, however, and principally Athens, were inflamed with jealousy of the Theban power, and, uniting in a league to curb its ascendency, they applied for aid from Per- sia. To counteract this cooperation the Thebans sent Pelopidas to Artaxerxes, who convinced him that it was more for his real interest to countenance and support their infant power, which could give no jealousy or alarm to his empire, than to add weight to those great republics, which had always been at variance with him. Artaxerxes declared himself the ally of Thebes. The Greek ambassadors were all dismissed, loaded with magnificent presents; Pelopidas alone refused them. In the assembly of the CH. III.] MACEDONIA. 165 people at Athens, a porter ludicrously proposed that^ instead of nine annual archons, they should elect nine ambassadors of the poorest of the people, and send them every year to Persia. Epaminondas, at this time, made another descent upon Pelo- ponnesus, when he was opposed by the Spartans, the Athenians, and Corinthians. He was at first successful, but, overpowered at last and obliged to retreat, he returned to Thebes, where his ill fortune was construed into treason, and he was deprived of all command. We shall presently see his fickle countrymen once more disposed to rate his services at their true value. Macedonia, a few years before this period, was in a state of civil war, from the quarrels for sovereignty which arose between the two sons of Amyntas, upon the death of their father. The Macedonians solicited aid from the Thebans to compose the disor- ders of their country, and Pelopidas was for that purpose sent thither w-ith an army. He effected the object of his mission by placing Perdiccas on the throne of JMacedonia, and he carried with him to Thebes, Philip, the brother of Perdiccas, with thirty of the young nobility, as hostages for the security of this settle- ment. This was Philip, afterwards the King of Macedon, and father of Alexander the Great ; a youth who so profitably employ- ed his time In the study of the art of war under those two able masters, Pelopidas and Epaminondas, that from them he acquired that military knowledge which afterwards proved so fatal to the liberties of Greece. The people of Thessaly, alarmed at the ambitious designs of Alexander, the tyrant of Pherie, who aimed at reducing the whole states under his own dominion, solicited the aid of the Thebans to protect their liberties. The Thebans complied with their request, and Pelopidas, sent into Thessaly as an ambassador, to hear the subject of complaint, and to mediate on the part of Thebes, was, in contempt of the law of nations, seized by Alexander and thrown into jirison. The Thebans justly resenting this gross outrage, sent an army against the tyrant, and Epaminondas, eager to cooperate in the delivery of his friend Pelopidas, but debarred by the late decree fiotn all military command, joined hiuiself as a private soldier to the expedition. The Thei)an forces were encountered in the field by an army greatly superior in numbers ; and such was the pusillanimity of iheir generals, that they were on the point of making an igno- minious retreat, when the spirit of the troops was roused by the strong feeling of impending disgrace. They compelled their generals to yield the command to Epaminondas, who very speedily turned the fortune of the day, and, afier rei)ulsiiig the tyrant, obliged him to offer terms of acconmiodaiion, of which the first condition was the release aiid restitution of Pelopidas. This signal service of Epaminondas, though performed, as we have seen, at the ex])ense of a new infringement of military duty, the very offence for which he had lately so severely suffered, was now IGG UNIVEUSAL IIISIOKY. [bOOK II rewarded hy the universal applause of liis country, and a complete reinstalc'iiienL in all his foriner lienors and p()j)ularily. Pelopidas had no sooner rccovxued his liberiy than he resolved to wreak his vengeance against the tyrant of Phera;. At the head of a new expedition for this purpose, he encountered Alexander at Cynoccphala:, and gave hiin a complete defeat ; but eager to engage the tyrant, whom he challenged to single combat in the field, he unwarily exposed himself to a shower of javelins from the enemy, and fell pierced with numberless wounds. The Thebans justly considered their victory as dearly j)urchased by the loss of this most brave and virtuous citizen. Tiie Thebans and Thes£a- lonians jointly performed his funeral obsequies with the most dis- tinguished pomp and magnificence. The tyrant of Phcraj was soon after assassinated by his wife and her brothers, who avenged by this blow their own and their country's injuries. A new war now bioke out between Thebes and Sparta, on account of a quarrel between the Te^ans and Mantineans, the former protected by the Thebans, the latter by the Lacedaemonians and Athenians. Epaminondas made another attempt upon Lace- daemon, which owed its preservation to the conduct and bravery ofAgesilaus. The Theban general, on receiving intelligence that the best of the Spartan troops, with Agesiiaus at their head, were on their marcli to Mantinea, judged this a most seasonable oppor- tunity for an attack on Sparta, which, having no walls, he expected to seize in the night without any opposition. Agesiiaus, however, getting a hint of his design, had just time to apprise the city of its danger, and the Thebans had already penetrated into the heart of it; when, to the surprise of Epaminondas, he found himself vigor ously attacked by Agesiiaus himself and his brave son, Archidamus, with the flower of the Spartan youth, who displayed the greatest courage in making head against the invaders. The Thebans were now forced to make a precipitate retreat. This unsuccessful enterprise was the more galling to Epaminondas, that the term of his military connnand was just about to expire. He earnestly wished to compensate for his failure by some splendid stroke against the enemy. The Spartan troops, as we have seen, had been suddenly called off from Mantinea to defend their city. Epaminondas now attempted, by a rapid march, to surprise and seize Mantinea ; but in the meantime its garrison had been rein- forced by an Athenian army, which met the Thebans in front, on their approach to the town, while the Spartans, aware of their design, were following close upon their rear. An engagement now ensued, one of the most celebrated in the Grecian history. The army of the Thebans amounted to 30,000 foot and 3000 horse ; that of the Lacedcemonians and their allies to 20,000 foot and 2000 horse. The battle was fought with the most desperate courage on both sides. The detail of particulars is to be found in Xenophon, CH. in. J EPAMI.VONDAS MANTI.NEA. 167 Diodorus, and other historians. The judicious disposition of tlie Theban army, and their movements during the engagement, showed the profound mihlary skill of their general. In the heat of the battle, the Thebans having broken and repulsed the Lace- daemonian phalanx, Epaminondas, too rashly pursuing his success, had advanced beyond the line of his troops, when the enemy rallying, he was exposed to a whole shower of darts, and fcill, pierced with numberless wounds. His faithful Thebans found means to rescue his body while life yet remained, and to bring kini to his tent. A javelin stuck fast in his breast, and his physi- :;ian declared that on extracting it he would immediately expire. In this extremity, breathless and fainting, while his friends stood weeping around him, he first inquired what was become of his shield, and being told that it was safe, he beckoned to have it brought to him, and kissed it. He then asked which side had gained the victory, and being told it was the Thebans, " Then," said he, "all is well." While some of his friends were lamenting his untimely fall, and regretting that he had left no children to perpetuate his memory; "Yes," said he, 'I have left two fair daughters, Leuctra and Manthica — these will perpetuate my mem- ory;" — so saying, with his own hands he drew forth the javelin from his breast, and instantly expired. The ancient historians have ranked Epaminondas among the greatest heroes and most illustrious characters of antiquity. Epam- inondas princeps meo jiuUcio Gracict^ says Cicero. As a 2;eneral, there needs no other criterion of his merit than to compare the situation in which he found his country, enslaved, oppressed, weak, and inconsiderable, with that in which he left it, the most formidable power in Greece. As a private citizen, his social virtues, the gen- erosity of his disposition, a total disregard of wealth, which his high employments gave him an easy opportunity of accumulating ; his eminent philosophical and literary genius, and above all, a modest simplicity of demeanor, which added lustre to all his numerous accomplishments, w^ere the distinguishing features of his character. Willi him the glory of his country may be said to have been born and to have died ; for, from the inauspicious day of his death, the Theban power vanished at once, and that Boeotian republic sunk again into its original obscurity. Athens and Sparta were humbled in the battle of Mantinea. Thebes was victorious, but she was undone by the death of Epam- inondas. All parties were now disposed to peace, and Artaxerxes, more powerful among those infatuated states than in his own domin- ions of Persia, dictated the terms of the treaty. It was stipulated that each of the states should retain what it then possessed, and that all should enjoy their liberties independent of each other. The Spartans alone refused their assent to this treaty, unwilling to relin- quish that control which they considered as their right over some of their tributary cities. 168 UNIVF.RSAI. IIISTORV. [noOK II Arlaxerxes soon after died of a broken heart Oariiis, lils eldes* BOn, togellier with fifty of liis natural brothers, had roiisj)ired ai^ainst tlieir father, but iheir designs were defeated, and ihry were all put to death. Ochus, the third of liis lawful sons, succeeded him. This monster had made iiis way to" the throne by murdering hia elder brother, and, to secure his possession, he murdered all that remained of his kindred. The treaty recently concluded among the states of Greece was fatal in its consequences to the glory of the nation. The greater re])ublics, exhausted and weakened by the war, and now abridged in tJKjir power and resources by the independence of the smaller states, were alternately sunk in indolence and apathy, and em broiled by civil contentions. The inferior republics, who derived weight and consideration chiefly from their alliance with the great states who were their protectors, were now forced, in all their quarrels with each other, to rely upon their own strength. No general object united the nation, which now became a discordant mass of unequal and independent parts. In addition to these symptoms of decline, luxury was extending her baneful influence, in enervating and corrupting the patriotic spirit. A taste for the productions of the tine arts, and a passionate pursuit of pleasure, had, in the Athenian republic particularly, entirely supplanted heroic virtue. Poets, musicians, sculptors, and comedians, were now the only great men of Attica. Wkile the bewitching dramas of Sophocles and Euripides charmed the ears, and the sculptures of Phidias, of Glycon, and Praxiteles fascinated the eyes of the refined and voluj)tuous Athenians, military glory was forgotten ; and the defence of the state, no longer the care of its citizens, was committed to mercenaries, who filled both its fleets and its armies. Even in Sparta, luxury had begun to spread her contagion ; while her power was shaken by the general treaty, which, though rejected on her part, gave sufficient warrant to all her dependent cities to renunce their allegiance. In this declining situation of Greece, while she offered a tempt- ing object of ambition to the designs either of a foreign conqueror or a domestic tyrant, the prince of a small monarchy, hitherto quite inconsiderable, began to meditate an attack against her general liberties. This was Philip of Macedon ; the same youth whom, as we have observed, a few years beforg, Pelopidas had carried a hostage to Thebes in security of that establishment he had made, in })lacing Perdiccas II. on the throne, and composing the disorders of his kingdom. Philip, while in Thebes, had been the companion of Epaminon- das, the pupil of his father Polymnis, and had shared in those excellent lessons which formed the illustrious Theban to be the support and glory of his country. The house of Polymnis, at Thebes, was the resort of the most learned and virtuous men of that country. There Lysidas, of Tarentum, read his lectures on CII. III.] PHILIP OF MACEDOiV, 1G9 philosophy; a science in which Epaminondas was np less eminent, by the testimony of all antiquity, than he was in the talents of a great military leader. It was in the latter character rather than the former that he served as a model to the young Philip, who, though of acute talents, had neither the virtues nor the cultivateil mind of the illustrious Theban. The abilities of Philip raised him to the throne, which was then filled by his nephew Amyntas, the son of his elder brother Perdiccas. The Macedonians declared they wanted not a child, but a man, to be their governor. If great military talents, unbounded ambition, with profound political sagacity, could, in a sovereign, compensate for the want* of moral qualities and the absence of every generous virtue, Philip was not unworthy to wear a crown. Scarcely was he seated on the throne, when he was attacked from every quarter. The Illyrians and the Paeonians made inroads upon his territories. Two rival princes, Pausanias and Argsus, relations of the last monarch, disputed his title, each claiming the sovereignty for himself. The Thracians armed for Pausanias, the Athenians for Argaeus. Philip disarmed the Paeonians by bribes and promises. Tlie Thracians were won by a similar policy. He gained a victory over the Athenians, in which his rival Argaeus lost his life; and having thus accomplished the security of his title to the throne, he attained with the people of Athens the character of extreme moderation and generosity, by sending back to their country without ransom, all the prisoners he had taken in battle. In this manner, by the most dexterous policy, he removed a part of his enemies, that he might have the rest at his mercy, riiiherto his conduct might in general be justified; for, as yet, his interest had not prompted him to act a dishonorable part. No man wantonly, or through choice, throws away his character. But Philip knew no other motive of action but his own interest ; and he had no scruples as to the means of accomplishing it. Arti- fices of every kind, dissimulation, perfidy, breach of promises, and oaths, were with Philip the ordinary and the necessary engines of government. Corruption was his favorite instrument. It was a maxim of his, that no fortification was impregnable into which a mule could make its way with a bag of money. Philip, in his designs against the liberties of Greece, found occasion to employ the utmost extent of his political address, and to exercise, alter- nately every talent of which he was possessed. He had his pen- sionaries in all the republics, whose care it was to give him intelli- gence of every measure, to form a party in his interest, and on all occasions when his ei. erprises were called in question, to justify his designs and vindicate his proceedings. In Athens, he had in this character .^Eschines the orator devoted to his interest, and two coinedians, Aristodemus and Ncoptolemus, men of high innuence in the public assemblies. ^V'itjl these illustrious characters in his interest, Philip was at ease with respect to the Athenians. VOL. I '22 |- IQ UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [liOOK II In tin; same manner securing his partisans in tlio oilier repub- lics, it was now only necessary to set them at variance with each other, that his alliance might be conrted, and an opportunity fiir- nishcd for introducing the Macedonian troops into Greece. TliP miserable policy and imprudence of the principal republics accom plished his wishes, without giving him even the Ironble of an effort. The Phocians having ploughed up some of the lands which belonged to the temple of Apollo, at Delphos, were cited on that account before the Amphictyonic council, and condemned to pay a heavy fine. Instead of submitting to this decree, they now pretended that the custody of the temple and all its patrimony belonged of right to ihem ; and they boldly seized the sacred edifice with the whole of its treasures. These proceedings ))ut all Greece into a flame. The Phocians had some plausible reasons to assign in support of their claim; otherwise we cannot suppose that the Athenians and Spartans would have espoused their cause, in opj)osition to most of the other states of Greece, who regarded their conduct as highly sacrilegious. The Thebans, the Thessa- lians, and the Locrians, armed in the cause of Apollo, and took a most active part in what was termed the sacred war. The spirit of hostility acquired additional rancor from religious zeal; and both sides adopted the sanguinary policy of giving no quarter in battle, and putting to death their prisoners without mercy. The Theban general, Philomelns, found himself in this last predicament, and seeing no jjossibility of escaping out of the hands of a body of the enemy who had surrounded him, threw himself headlong over a precipice. The sacred toar had lasted for some time. Philip of Macedon in the meantime was gradually extending his territories, and had already, by conquest, made himself master of a great part of Thrace, when the Thessalians implored his assistance against their tyrant Lycophron, the brother and successor of Alexander of Pherae, whose government they felt yet more intolerable than that of his predecessor. The tyrant had sought aid of the Phocians lo support him against his own subjects, who, on their part, were thus fully justified in courting the assistance of the Macedonians to protect their liberties. After several engagements of various issue, Philip prevailed in driving the Phocians completely out of Thessaly; and Lycophron, finding himself unable to cope with the Macedonian power, resigned his sovereiguty and put Philip in possession of his capital of Pheras. A short time before this period, his queen, Olynipias, the daugiiter of Neoptolemus, king of Epirus, was delivered at Pella, in the first year of the 106th Olympiad (356 b. c), of a son, Alexander, justly denominated the Great. On this event, Philip wrote to the philosopher Aristotle in these emphatic words, truly worthy of a king: " Know that a son is born to us. We thank CH. III.] DEMOSTHENES. 171 the godi^, first, for their excellent gift, and, secondly, that it is bestowed in the age of Aristotle, who, we trust, will render him a son worthy of his father, and a prince worthy of Macedonia." * The success wdiich had hitherto attended the arms and the policy of Philip inspired him now with the daring ambition of rendering himself the arbiter and sovereign of Greece. The retreat of the Phocians from Thessaly furnished him with the plausible pretext of advancing with liis troops to Thermopylae, in order to enter the country of Phocis; while his real design was to secure that important pass, which opened to him the territory of Attica. This was a bold attempt; for no foreign power had ever passed that gate of Greece, since the defeat of the Persians at Plata^a. The Athenians were justly alarmed, not less for their own safety than for the general liberties of the nation ; and they owed the energy of their conduct on this occasion to the manly eloquence and patriotism of Demosthenes. Demosthenes, the prince of the Grecian orators, now made the first display of his eminent talents. He had no advantages of birth or education. His father, a sword-cutler, or, as Juvenal has termed him, a blacksmith, left him an orphan at the age of seven, to the care of profligate guardians, who robbed him of his small patrimony. But he possessed that native genius which surmounts every disadvantage of birth or situation. Ambition prompted him to the study of oratory; for, going one day to the court to hear the pleadings in some cause of moment, he was so impressed with the eloquence of Callistratus, and so fired by the popular applause bestowed on that orator upon his gaining the suit in which he had pleaded, that he determined from that moment that this should be his road to eminence and distinction. No man, in this arduous course, ever struggled with greater natural obstacles, or more ha])- pily overcame them. His voice was harsh and uncouth, his wticulalion indistinct, and his gestures awkward and constrained; out, sensible of his defects, he labored night and day in private exercises of elocution, till he completely subdued them ; and then, jonfident of his powers, he broke forth at once the most distin- guished orator of his age. He had in this emergency of public idairs a noble field of 'exertion. On the first intelligence that Philip was on his march to Thermopylae, Demosthenes ascended the tribunal in the Ecclesia, and in a most animated harangue /oused the patriotic ardor of his countrymen, by painting to them, ai striking colors, the ambitious designs of this artful and enter- • Aristotle, by birlli a Stairj'ritp, camo to Athens at the age of eisrhtoen, and was for Iwoiity years a scholar of I'l:vt6 U.NIVKIISAL IIISTORV. [bOOK It Cap|);ulo(ia ucro assigned to Eiimcnes; Kgypt to Ptolemy; and to Antigontis, Pliiygia, Lycia, and Pampliylia. Lysiinaclms had Thrace with t^le adjacent countries n])on the Euxine. To Pcrdic- cas himself, no (hstinct share of the empire was assigned in govern- ment; he contented himself witli his influence in the regency and the command of the household troops. On the histoiy of the successors of Alexander, the Abb^; Con- dillar has made a very just reflection: " VV^e are interested," says he " in the revolutions of the Grecian states ; our admiration is excited by the conquests of Alexander; but we can scarcely fix our attention on the history of his successors. Yet a vast theatre is opened to our view — a variety of scenes and multiplied catas- trophes. How then does it happen that the history of those tians- actions is less interesting than the fate of Lacedjemon? It is not the magnitude of an object that renders it truly interesting. A large picture is often displeasing from the very circumstance of its greatness. We lose the connection of its parts, because the eye cannot take them in at once. Still less will a large picture give us pleasure, if every portion of it presents a difierent scene or action, each unconnected with the other." Such is the case with the history of the successors of Alexander. The multitude of subordinate governors who share and dismember this vast empire, every one of whom we behold pursuing separate schemes of ambi- tion, throws a confusion upon the whole picture, which it requires the most laborious attention to dissipate ; and even when that is accomplished, at the expense of much fatigue and trouble, the end to be gained, either in instruction or pleasure, is not adequate to the cost. In the revolutions of Greece, our views are continually fixed upon the most striking and interesting objects; the develop- ment of the human mind, in its advances from rudeness to refine- ment ; the progress of government and legislation ; the gradual changes of national manners; the exercise of the noblest passions, tlie love of country and of ingenuous freedom; the display of emi- nent virtues and great abilities. But in this motley and confused drama of the dismembered empire of Alexander, there is neither a people nor a country for whom our interest is excited: there is neither a display of talents nor of virtues. At the head of the empire we behold two sovereigns, the one a fool, the other an infant ; an unprincipled and ambitious regent with no defined or legal authority; a multitude of inferior governors, each aiming at an extension of his own power by the overtlirow of his rivals; and, finally, the consequence of their contentions and intrigues, in the extinction of all the family and kindred of Alexander. There is, however, one exception to these barbarous and dis* gusting scenes. Among the numerous governors, Ptolemy, sur- named Soter, a Macedonian of mean extraction, had Egypt, as we have remarked, for his share of the empire. He owed his eleva- iion to his merit, and had served as a general under Alexander CH. IV. J SUCCESSORS OF ALEXANDER. 191 from the commencement of the Persian war. While he aimed at independence as a sovereign, he had too mnch good sense to em- broil himself with the disputes of ilie oilier governors, but applied himself with earnestness and success to the establishment of his own authority, and the advancement of the happiness of his people. Perdiccas judged that he would find in Ptoleiiiy the chief obstacle to his ambiiious views; and he therefore turned his attention first 10 the reduction of Egypt. In this enterprise he had the authority of the kings, on the plausible |)retext, that Ptolemy had revoked from their sovereignly, and made himself an independent monarch. But the attempt was unsuccessful; he found it impracticable to make impression on the Egyptian frontier, which Ptolemy defended with a j)0vverful army; his troops, disgusted wiih the severe and haughty manner of their leader, and exasperated with their ill success, mutinied, and assassinated him ; and transferred their services and allegiance to the governor of Egypt. Ptolemy, whose re|)utation was enhanced by the defeat of this enterprise, might now have succeeded to the power and authority of Perdiccao, as regent, under Aridaeus and the infant prince; but he wisely declined that dangerous dignity, which could ad 1 nothing to his real power; and, on his refusal, it fell to Antipater, the governor of iMacedonia. A new division was now made of the empire; and Babylon and Assyria were assigned to Seleucus. But Egypt siill remained under Ptolemy, who had established his authority in that quarter u|)on a solid basis. Eumenes, the governor of Ca|)padocia, a man of great merit, and firmly attached to the family of Alexander, was, from those cir- cumstances, regarded with a jcakjus eye by the rest of his col- leagues. Antipater, in the quality of Regent, proclaimed war against him, and he was betrayed and delivered up to Antigonus, the governor of Phrygia and Lydia, who put him to death, and seized upon his states. Antigonus, thus actpiiring the connnand of a great part of the As'aiic provinces, began to aspire to the universal empire of Asia. He attacked and ravaged the dominions of the conterminous eovernors. Seleucus, the governor ol I>abylon, unable to make head against him in the field, Hed into Egypt, and humbly sought the aid and protection of Ptolemy; who, alarmed at the designs of Antigonus, supported the fugitive with a power- ful army, and reinstated him in his government ol Babylon. Siileucus was beloved by his subjects, and the time of his return to Babylon became a common e))0(h through all (he Asiatic nations. It is called the era of the Selsucidxe, and is fixed 312 years before the birth of Christ. It is made use of all over the East, by Jews, Christians, and Mahometans. The Jews call it the era of contracts; because, when subject to tbe Syro-Macedo- nian princes, they were obliged to employ it in all contracts and civil deeds. The Arabians term it the era of tke two-lwrncd; & denominaiion taken fiom the coins or medals of Seleucus, ia 198 UNIVKUSAL IIISTOHY [OOOK II. wliid) lie is rcpresoiiled wiili horns, like those of a ratn. In iha book of the Maccabees it is called the era of the kingdom of the Greeks. Autigonuj, however, persisted in his schemes of ambition. He sent his son, Demetrius, with a fleet against Ptolemy, which was victorious in an engagement with that of the Egyptians. It was on this occasion that Aniigonus and Demetrius assumed to them- selves the title of kings, in which they were imitated by all the other governors. A league was now formed against Antigonug and Demetrius, by Ptolemy and Seleucus, in which they were joined by Cassander, the son of Anti[)ater, and Lysimachus; the former, governor of Macedonia, and the latter of Thrace. The battle of Ipsus, in Phrygia, decided the contest. Antigonus was killed, Demetrius fled with the shattered remains of his army, and the conquerors made a ])artition of their dominions. Ptolemy, in addition to Egyj)t and Lybia, had Arabia, Coelosyria, and Pal- estine; and Cassander had Macedonia and Greece. The share of Lysimachus was Thr;ice, Biihynia, and some other provinces beyond the IIelles|)ont. Seleucus had all the rest of Asia, to the river Indus. This last kingdom, the most powerful and splendid of the whole, was called the kingdom of Syria; of which the capital, Antioch, was built by Seleucus, and was the residence of the line of inoiwrchs descended from him. CHAPTER V Fbnrishing state of Egypt under the Ptolemies — Greece aOer the death of Alexander — Achaian league — Uevolutirinninor of the eiorhteenth century. The Septuii_rint trans- ation was in use in the time of our Saviour, and is that out of which most of the citations in the New Testament from the Old are liken. It was likewise the canonical translation used by all the Christian cliurcjjes from ihf eaiiiest ages CH. v.] PIIOCIO.V AND DEMOSTHENES. 20* Greece, where he employed his money in corrupting the orators of Athens and tlie chief men of that republic, in the view of estab- lishing an independent power under his own authority and con- trol. But he found, in the incorruptible virtue of Phocion, an insuperable obstacle to his designs. This venerable man acted on the same unshaken principles he had all along maintained ; he could not consider Alexander as lawfully the master or sovereign of Greece ; but he saw with regret that the era of Grecian liberty had long passed away, along with the virtuous manners of forn)or times, and that a people thoroughly corrupted and degenerate were incapable of recovering their lost freedom, or mainiaining it, though gained for a season. He wished, therefore, to preserve at least the peace and tranquillity of his country, but if we judge thus of the politics of Phocion, we cannot impute it for blame to his great rival, Demosthenes, that he cherished different views ; and that as he had constantly opposed the ambitious designs of Philip, so he persevered in denying the sovereignty of Alexander. The enemies of Demosthenes attempted to bring his integrity under suspicion, by propagating a slanderous report, that he had accepted bribes from Harpalus, and entered into the views of that ambitious and bad man. But this accusation, which gained such edit at the time as to procure the banishment of Demosthenes, nas, upon the most scrupulous inquiry, being deemed a calumny. The principal agent of Harpalus being put to die torture, to force a confession of the names of those Athenians who had accepted bribes from that traitor, solemnly acquitted Demosthenes of that dishonorable charge. A single hint from Alexander of his inten- tion to revisit Greece, was sufficient to defeat the schemes of Har palus, and to procure his expulsion from Athens. On intelligence of Alexander's death, a wonderful change was operated on the public mind in Greece. Liberty was now the universal cry. The people of Athens expressed the most tumul- tuous joy, and the Ecclesia resounded with the harangues of the orators and shouts of the applauding populace. Demosthenes, though in exile, engaged several of the states to join with tho Athenians, and to equip a fleet of two hundred and forty galleys. The Spartans, dispirited by their late defeat by the arms of Aiui- patcr, refused to join the league for independence. Phocion, ever prudent and circumspect, advised the confederate stales to wail the opportunity of those dissensions which he foresaw must infalli- bly arise among the different governois. But the counsel of Demosthenes, who proposed an immediate commeiuement of hnslililies, suited better with the ardor of ihelr present feelings. The advice of Phocion was justified by the event. Antipaier, nfier some severe checks from the troops of the confederate states, finally defeated them, and reduced all to submission. In punish ment of the offence of Athens, he abolished the democratic gov- ernment, and established in its room an aristocracv, of which he VOL. I. 26 202 UNIVF'.RSAL HISTORY. [ BOOK II had the al)soliite control. !!(; com|)(,'ll(;(J llio Allifiiiniis lo defray the whoh* expenses of ihe war; and, finally, demanded that ihey shoiihl tleliver up lo him Demosthenes. This ilhistrious man, foreseeing inevitable death, swallowed poison. Of the tendency of the political counsels of Demosthenes, in contrast with those of Phocion, I have already expressed a genera, opinion. The |irinciple which prompted the counsels of the former was certainly noble. His views were tinqncstionably disinterested, for he supported the cause even of decaying and hopeless liberty against successful ambition, and, amidst every attempt to seduce him from his principles, he remained to the last the avowed enemy of the enslavers of his country. The question of preference be- tween his politics and those of Phocion comes to this short issue whether was it most advisable for the Greeks, corrupted and de- generate as they were, to submit peaceably to that servitude which they could not avoid, and patiently to bear the yoke which they had not strength to break ; or, by continual resistance, to mark, at least, a desire of their ancient freedom — an indignant spirit, which rose against their situation; and thus to give a testimony to their tyrant, that, though oppressed, they were not subdued; though compelled to submit, they were not tame and voluntary slaves. The former was, perhaps, the more prudent and the safer part ; the latter, without doubt, the more honorable. The Athenians themselves, after the death of Demosthenes, gave an ample expression of their sense of his patriotic merits, as well as of the g:'nerosity of his counsels; for it was their character, as we have seen, oftcner to expiate their offences to the dead, than to do justice to the 'living. They erected a statue in the Prytaneum to his memory, with this inscription : — " If thy poiocr, O IJenioslhenes, had been equal to thy wisdom and abilities, the JMacedonian JSIars had never ruled in Greece." * We have already remarked those dissensions which, after the death of Alexander, arose among the governors of the different provinces, upon the first division of the empire made by Perdiccas. The new partition made by Antipater, on his acquiring the regency, gave rise lo fresh disputes, and all were soon in arms and commo- tion. This was certainly the crisis that the Greeks should have awaited for throwing off the Macedonian yoke ; but, too impatient and eager to seize the first opening that promised success to their design, their country became the theatre of war, affected by all the revolutions of the empire, and successively the prey of every ambitious governor whose power happened to predominate. Anti- pater, in making a new division of the provinces, was actuated by the twofold view of strengthening his own authority and weaken OJ/ior' lev ' EXXi'yotv i]i)^ti-' u-tin;; JMuxiSuiV \,H. v.] POLYSPERCHON. 203 ing fliat of his rivals, whose firm establishment in their govern- ments had elevated them to the lank, and caused the greater part of them to assume the title, of kings. His policy was therefore judicious, but death put a period to his projects. He betjueaihed Macedonia and the government of Greece to PolysperchoM, one of Alexander's oldest officers, in preference to his own son Cas- sander, who, considering this as an act of injustice, prepared to assert his hereditary right by arms. He applied, in that view, to Antigonus, and received fi'om hiin the aid of a large army, which, under the command of Nicanor, invaded Greece, and, attacking the ciiy of Athens, seized the Piraeus, and put a garrison into the citadel. Polysperchon, however, retained the Athenians in alle- giance to his authority, by promising them the restitution of their democratic government, in place of the aristocracy established by Anti pater. The revolution was accomplished; the partisans of the former government were condemned to death, and among these the old and venerable Phocion. Ever a friend to the tran- quillity of liis country, he had favored the party of the aristocracy, and had on that account incurred the popular resentment, which was now extreme, against all whom they regarded as enemies to democracy. Phocion, at the age of eighty, was condemned to drink hemlock. The last request he made to his son was, that he should endeavor to forget the injustice and ingratitude which the Athenians had shown to his father. jNleantime Cassander arrived with an army to the aid of Nicanor, and to support his own claims to Macedonia and Greece. Their united forces drove Polysperchon out of Attica, and forced him to retreat to Peloponnesus. Cassander subdued the Athenians, overturned the newly established democracy, and obliged the party of the nobles to elect one of their own number to preside as a governor under his contupl. They chose Demetrius Phalereus, a descendant of Conon, and a man of distinguished virtue and ability. Under his administration, which was of ten years' con- tinuance, the Athenians were truly happy. The revenues of the state were increased, the useful arts encouraged, the strictest atten- tion paid to the administration of justice, and lu me reformation of all those abuses which had arisen from their late disorders and fluctuations of government. In short, this fickle people might have enjoyed real prosperity, had they possessed a true feeling of their real interests, and known how to value the blessings of peace and good order. But this was not their character ; every change was acceptable to the Athenians. They idolized their j)resent governor, Demetrius, and erected three hundred statues to his honor. We shall [jresently see the emptiness of these testimonies of popular favor. Under the regency of Polysperchon, there was an utter extinc tion of the family of Alexander the Great. His mother, Olympias, had reliicd into E[)irus during the regency of Antipater; but she 204 UNivKiisAL msToitv. [dook II was iiivilcd liy Polyspcrclion to rclurn to Macedonia. Srarcely was she seiilod ilieie, when her ainhiiion and ciuelty ))rojo(;ied and acc()in|)Iishc(l the deadi of (he weak Aridaeiis, ihe nominal successoi- to ihe empire of his brother Alexander, as well as of his queen Eurydice. By these ahomii)ablo measures, she took on herself the administration of government, as the guardian of her infant grandson, the son of Alexander ijy Roxana. She had like- wise |)ut to death the brother of Cassander, and some principal men among the Macedonians, who had shown themselves hostile to her designs. On the j)laiisible jjretencc of avenging those crimes, but in reality to serve his own ambitious ends, Cassander besieged her in the town of Pydna, arid, taking the place by assault, Olympias became his prisoner, and was soon after put to death by his orders. This great bar to his ambition being removed, Cassander kept the young prince and his mother, Roxana, in close confinement in the city of Amphipolis. But the Macedonians expressing their impatience till their native sovereign should assume the reins of government, Cassander caused both him and his mother to be privately murdered. The people expressed their resentment in murmurs; but such was the power of the usurper, that none dared oj)enly to impeach or question his proceedings. Meantime Polys- perchon, whom he had expelled fi'om Macedonia, and who now governed in Pelo|ionnesus, sent for Hercules, a younger son of Alexander by Barsine, from Pergamus, declaring his resolution to present him to the Macedonians, and cause his title to be acknow- ledged as their lawful sovereign. This new obstacle was removed by Cassander, who artfully won Polysperchon to his interest by confirming him in the government of Peloponnesus. The main condition of their treaty was, that the young Hercules and his mother should both be put to death. There were now remaining of the family of Alexander only two sisters ; Cleopatra, the widow of Alexander, king of Epirus ; and Thessalonice, the wife of Cassander. Cleopatra, who had for some time resided at Sardis, in Lydia, seeing herself treated with little respect by Anligonus, the governor of that pro\ince, had betaken herself to Egypt, on the invitation of Ptolemy Soter; but she was brought back by order of Antigonus, and i)ri\ately put to death. Thessalonice was afterwards murdered by one of lier own sons, the second Antipater, in revenge for her having favored the claims of his brother to the succession of his ))aternal dominions. Thus within the comiiass of twenty-eight years bom the death of Alexander the Great, there remained*not one alive of all his family or kindred. Antigonus, whose extensive pojects we have already noticed, was perhaps the most ambitious of all those governors who shared the cm|)ire of Alexander. Not satisfied with almost the whole of the Asiatic provinces, his object was now^ the sovereignty of CH. V.J DEMETRIUS POI.IORCETES. 205 Greece ; and in that view he sent iliitlier iiis son Demetrius Poli- orcetes, a young man of great talents, and perfectly disposed to cooperate in all his schemes of ambition. With the command of a lar^e army he made an attack on the Athenian teiritory, seized the Piraeus without oi)position, expelled the garrison of Demetrius Phalereus, and brought over the po|)ulace to his interest, by restor- ing the democratic constitution. The Athenians, happy as they had been under the government of Phalereus, could not resist the charms of revolution. The three hundred statues, which, in proof of tiieir gratitude, they had erected to his honor, were thrown down and demolished ; he was expelled the territory of the republic, and his rival Poliorcetes hailed the deliverer of Athens. The excellent Phalereus found an asylum at the court of Ptolemy Soter, in Egypt. The life of Demetrius Poliorcetes was a perpetual series of reverses of fortune. During an interval of his absence from Athens, the city was seized by Cassander. Poliorcetes flying to its relief, rescued Attica from its invader ; and the people, in the fervor of their zeal, proposed, as the highest rank of honor, to lodge their deliverer in the temple of their tutelary goddess, Minerva. After the battle of Ipsus, in which, as we formerly observed, his father Antigonus was killed, this same Poliorcetes, twice hailed the deliverer of Athens, was refused an asylum in that city when he fled thither for protection. When a change of fortune had secured the safety of his paternal dominions in Asia, he determined to avenge himself of the ungrateful Athenians. He landed in Attica with a numerous army, blocked up the harbor at the same time with his fleet, and after a long and vigorous siege, compelled the Athenians to surrender and throw themselves upon his mercy. He forgave them all past offences, and became once more their idol. Meantime a league was formed between Lysi- machiis, Seleucus, and Ptolemy, who divided Asia between them, and Poliorcetes was stripped of all his eastern territories. Thus reduced to the possession only of a few of the cities of G-reece, he was on the point of losing even these, when the dissensions between the children of Cassander put him in possession of the crown of Macedonia. He was chosen to mediate in their differ- ences ; he found means to rid himself of the competitors, and seized the crown for himself. But destined as it would seem to a perpetual vicissitude of fortune, his new subjects of Macedonia, dissatisfied with the government of a sovereign who had no just claims to their allegiance, rebelled, and, deserting his standard, threw themselves under the rule of Pyrrhus, king of Epirus Poliorcetes fled into Asia, where, after a variety of events of littie importance to the chain of history, he surrendered himself a prisoner to Seleucus, at whose court, dispirited and careless of life, he abandoned himself to excessive debauchery, and soon after died. 206 _ UNivr-nsAL histouv. [hook ii. Such was tlie fate of llie successors of Alexander, and such the catastroplio of his family ; and thus feehlc and fluctuating were most of those monarchies which were raised from the ruins of his empire. Great in extent of territory, they iiad no internal strength, nor any principle of union or durability. It was their lot to be governed by restless, jealous, and ambitious men ; the perpetual jarriiii; of whose interests gave them no intervals of tran(|uillity, nor allowed any attention to the settlement of their kingdoms, or the regulation of their domestic policy. These monarchies were, therefore, subject to perpetual revolutions ; but all being alike deficient in that native strength which arises from a long-estab- lished government, there was not in any individual power a suffi- ciency of vigor to overwhelm or subjugate the rest. The general weakness of those kingdoms thus secured them against their incor- poration and subjection to the government of any one of those ambitious rulers ; while it paved the way for an easy conquest, and successive reduction of the whole under the yoke of a foreign power. In that period from the death of Alexander the Great, which we have thus hastily run over, the proper history of the states of Greece presents only a series of unimportant revolutions; frequent and violent transitions from one form of government to another ; political changes, not produced as formeily by the internal spirit or genius of the different commonwealths — or by those animated con- tentions which gave room for the disi)lay of the noble and manly passions — but effected at once by the will of a despot on a sub- missive, spiritless, and corrupted people. Yet, amidst this general weakness and degeneracy, there existed in a corner of this country a small people till now scarcely known, who still retained their ancient manners, and who preserved in a considerable degree the ardor of true patriotism and the love of their ancient liberty. These w^ere the states of Achaia. In those early times when all the cities of Greece, as If by geneial consent, shook off the yoke of their domestic tyrants, the cities of Achaia, Patrae, DymjE, Trita^a, Pharse, iEgium, and some others, had armed for their common liberty, and having deposed or expelled their governors, formed a league of association on a oasis of perfect equality. It was agreed that each of the cities should be ruled by its own laws and magistrates ; and that all affairs regarding their common interests should be treated in a senate, which should assemble twice in the year at jEgium, to which convention each of the associated states should send their deputies. No treaty could be formed, no alliance made, no war undertaken, or peace concluded, without the consent of the whole body. Two presidents of the assembly were yearly elected, called ^TQuirjyoi, or praetors. It was their duty to summon the states, and in them the authority of the body was vested during the inter vals when it was not assmibled Such was the small but respect- able republic of Achaia. CH. V.J THE ACHAIAN iEAGUE. 207 Till the era of the division of Alexander's empire, the Aciiaians had taken no share in the revolutions of Greece, having no ambi- tion of extending their own territory or power, and no wealth to tempt the ambition of other slates. Tliey were enslaved, however, after that era by some of those turbulent governors, and several of their cities were garrisoned by Polysperchon, Demetrius Poli- orcetes Cassander, and Antigonus Gonatas. Others suffered from the usurpation of domestfc tyrants, and the ancient association seemed entirely at an end. Tlie following circumstance, however, incited the states to a renewal of their league. The people of iEtolia, a set of lawless freebooters, emboldened by the disorders of Greece, began to niake incursions on Peloponnesus. The ter- ritories of the Achaian states, lying immediately opposite to them, were most exposed to their ravages. On this occasion Dymac, Patraj, Pharae, and Trita^a, renewed their league of association on its ancient principles, and they were joined soon after by the Tegfeans, and some of the other states of Peloponnesus. In one respect they improved on their former constitution, by electing only one president, or praetor, instead of two, and they were for- tunate in choosing for that office a man truly deserving of it. Aratus of Sicyon, when a youth of twenty years of age, had acquired a high reputation by delivering his native state from a domestic tyranny, and joining it to the associated republics. This young man was a singular phenomenon in those days of degeneracy. He possessed uncommon endown)ents of mind, and a heart which glowed with the love of honor and of his country. He was vigi- lant, enterprising, and prompt in decision ; and he possessed that ready and forcible eloquence which is of the greatest importance to the magistrate of a democracy. Aratus was in the twenty- eighth year of his age when he was elected praetor of Achaia; and, invested with that honorable office, he formed the patriotic design of delivering Peloponnesus from the yoke of Macedonia. In the first year of his magistracy, he expelled the Macedonian garrison from Corinth; a most important measure, which gave the united states the command of the isthmus and entry to Peloponnesus. The consequence of this success was that the states of Megara, Trcezene, and Epidaurus joined the Achaian confederacy. The republic of Achaia was not filled to support an offensive war, for two strong reasons. A number of separate, inde|)endent republics, however connected by a common interest, cannot always act with a perfect unanimity, and their measures are conse- quently seldom attended with that celerity of execution on which .=;uccess so much depends. Moreover, the confederate states were neither populous nor wealthy, and, of course, they could not muster a strong force in the field. Aratus was quite sensible of these de- fects, and therefore bent his chief attention to the securing his country from attack, and from the necessity of going to war; and .his he wisely judged would be best effected by strengthening 20U . U.MVEIISAI. IIISTOUY. [ HOOK M tlio leag;iie with iIk." arccssion of soirie of iho more iiowcifiil slates of GroL'ce. In thai view he made liis proposals holh to Athens and Lace- daemon; but these rommonweahhs, though still aflecting ^ passion for liberty, could not, from a despicable pride, brook the thought of owing their freedom to the petty stales of Acliaia. The situa- tion of the Lacedaemonians at this lime was indeed such as to engross all attention to their domestic concerns, as thai re})ublic was actually in the very crisis of a revolution. Agis IV. had succeeded to one branch of the throne of Sparia a short time before Aratus was chosen praetor of the Achaian states. This prince, a better man than a wise politician, had cherished the chimerical project of restoring the ancient laws of Lycurgus, as conceiving this the only means of rescuing liis country from the disorders induced by the universal corruption of its manners. But there is a period when political infirmity has attained such a pitch that recovery is imi)ossible; and Sparta had arrived at thai period. The design of Agis, of course, embraced the radical refoim of a new division of all llie land of the republic — a project suffic ient to rouse the indignation and secure the mortal enmity of the whole of the higher class of citizens, and of almost every man of weight and consideration in his country. The plan was therefore to be conducted with the greatest caution and secrecy till sufrlciently ripened for execution ; but Agis was betrayed by his own confi- dants. Leonidas, his colleague in the sovereignty, had imbibed a relish for luxury from his Asiatic education at the court of Seleucus, and was thus easily persuaded to lake the part of the richest citizens in opposing this violent revolution, which ihreatened to reduce all ranks of men .to a level of equality. The premature discoverv of his scheme was fatal to its virtuous author; for the party of his opponents was so formidable, that after compelling Agis to take shelter in the Temple of Minerva, they seized the opportunity of his going to the bath, and dragged him to the common prison, where a tribunal of the Ephori, summoned by his colleague Leo- nidas, sat ready to judge him as a state criminal. He was asked, by whose evil counsel he had been prompted to disturb the laws and government of his country.' " I needed none to prompt me," said the king, "to act as I thought right. My design was to restore your ancient laws, and to govern according to the plan of the excellent Lycurgus; and though I see my death is inevitable, I do not repent of my design." The judges hereupon pronounced sentence of death, and the virtuous Agis was carried forth from iheir presence and immediately strangled. This example did not deter Cleomencs, the son of Leonidas, and his successor in one branch of the sovereignty, from cherishing the same patriotic design which had proved fatal to Agis, and which his own father had so keenly opposed. Cleomenes pro- posed the twofold object of delivering Sparta from the Macedonian Cli .f REVOLUTION IN I.ACEIEMOX. 209 yoke ar.d of restoring the ancient system of Lycurgus. He began, by the judicious measure of attacliing the army to his interest, securing the confidence and allegiance of all the principal oflicers, and dexterously removing from command such as he judged to be unfriendly to the revolutionary design. Several of the richer citizens, and even some of the Ephori, from whom he expected opposition, were on various pretences banished or put to death. Trusting to the ready cooperation of the lower orders, he then assembled the people, and detailing the great benefits to be ex- pected from a complete change of system, proclaimed the abolition of all the debts, and beginning by divesting himself of the whole of his property, made a new partition of the lands of the republic, and restored the ancient plan of education, the institution of the public tables, and, in a word, as nearly as possible, the long-for- gotten regimen of Lycurgus. Cleomenes was hailed the second founder and father of his country, and Greece resounded with his praise, and boundless applause and admiration of the regenerated acedaemonians. This revolution, which in reality was favorable to the great object of the Achaian league, the subversion of the Macedonian influence in Greece, did not, however, meet with that cordial ap- probation which it ought to have found from the states of Achaia. Instead of being the leaders in the great and patriotic design of vindicating the national liberty, they now feared that Sparta was destined to eclipse their glory by assuming that honorable pre- eminence. Such was the influence of pride and jealousy, that even the virtuous Aratus now affected to consider Cleomenes and the Spartans as cherishing views more hostile to the liberty and independence of ihe Grecian republics, by elevating the hated power of Lacedaemon, than even the control of the Macedonians. The consequence was that, with a policy which it is not easy to justify upon any prinrijde of disinterested patriotism, Aratus and the Achaians now formed a strict alliance with Macedon to oppose, as they ))retended, the ambitious design of the Si^artans to be the rulers of Greece. Antigonus Doson at this time governed Macedonia, in the minority of his nephew Philip, the son of Demetrius. He gladly entered into the designs of Aratus, which he naturally thought were most cfTectually subservient to the Macedonian interests; and entering Peloponnesus with a large army, attacked the Spar- tans under Cleomenes, and in one sanguinary battle left above 5000 dead on the field. Cleomenes, seeing all was lost, fled for shelter to Egypt. Sparta fell into the hands of the conqueror, and its newly regenerated constitution, with its short-lived freedom, were now annihilated for ever. Antigonus imposed upon the LacedsHionians an easy yoke. Satisfied with an acknowledg- ment of their submission to the control of Macedon, he allowed them to model their laws and constitution as they shoul 1 judge VOL. I. 27 '210 UMVKKSAI. IIISTOIIY. [bOOK II. besi, and to elect ilitates ; but the virtues of Aratus were an insurmountable bar to his ambi- tion ; it was therefore necessary that this obstacle should be removed, and the Macedonian was not scrupulous in his choice of means. He procured the death both of Aratus and of his son by poison, and in their extinction the last feeble prop of the Grecian liberiy was cut away. Philip had now the command of the \chaian league, and seemed fast advancing to the attainment of his great object; but in ]irovoking the enmity of the Romans, he had imprudently paved tlie way for his own destruction. Having renewed his attacks upon the -^tolians, this peo|)le, with a very natural but most imprudent policy, courted aid from the Romans, wlio cheerfully complied with a request which was to avens;e their CH. v.] FALL OF MACEDON. 21 1 own quarrel and gratify their j)assion of conquest. T liny declared themselves protectors of the liberties of Greece, which they were determined to defend against invasion from any other quarter than their own. Flaminius being sent with a large army into that country, defeated Philip in a decisive engagement at Cynosce- phalae, and speedily compelled him to sue for peace upon these humiliating terms, that all the Geek cities, both in Europe and Asia, should be declared free and indepindent of Macedonia ; that every Greek or Roman captive should be set at liberty ; that he should surrender to the Romans the whole of his armed ships of war, widi the exception of five small vessels, and pay the sum of 1000 talents ; and, finally, that his son Demetrius should be given up to the Romans as a hostage for security of the |)erformance of these conditions. Such was the infatuation of the degenerate Greeks, that this treaty, which distinctly proclaimed their subjec- tion to a foreign power much more formidable than Macedonia, and now rapidly advancing to universal dominion, was hailed by them as a new epoch of liberty. The treaty of Cynoscephalae in reality put a period to the king- dom of Macedon. Philip sunk into absolute insignificance. Se- duced by false information from his youngest son Perseus, he caused Demetrius, his elder son, to be put to death. He died himself soon after ; and Perseus, defeated in the battle of Pydna by the consul iEmilius, was compelled to surrender himself with all his family into the hands of the victor. Precipitated from the throe opposite and contending interests, furnished a continual source of faction and disorder. In the Athenian republic the great defect of the constitution seemed to be in this, tliat it was doubtful where the supreme power was definitively lodged. The senate was, in theory, a wise institu- tion, for it possessed the sole power of convoking the assemblies of the people, and of preparing all business that was to be the sub- bed of discussion in tliose assemblies. But, on the other hand, CII. VI.] GREECE RETROSPECT. 216 this senate being annually elected, its members were ever miciei the necessity of courting that people for their voles, and of flatter- ing their pr judices and passions, by adopting and proposing mea- sures which had no other end than to render themselves j)opiilar. These delegates were therefore the mean dependants on the mob who elected them. The guardians nominally of the peoj)le's rights, they were themselves the abject slaves of a corrupted populace. The wise purpose of the institution was thus utterly defeait'd by the sinde circumstance of the senators beinsr annuallv elected. There were other radical defects in the constituiion of Athens. All the offices of the stale were by Solon destined to be filletl from the thiee first classes of the richer citizens. Tiie fourth or inferior class, {(•>>]' f?-,) had. however, an equal right of sulirage in the public assembly, and being superior in number to all the other three, had it in their power to carry every question against the higher classes. Thus there was a perpetual source of discord inherent in this constitution ; the power and pre-eminence of office exclusively vested in one division of the peo])le, which they would iealously maintain by every possible means ; while, at the same time, the other was furnished with arms sufficient to defeat that power altogether, or, at least, to maintain at all times a violent struggle for superiority. The best apology that can be made for Solon is, that his inten- tions were good. He knew that a constituiion purely democratic is an absolute chimei'a in politics. He knew that the people are themselves incapable of exercising rule, and that, under one name or another, they must be led and controlled. He wished, there- fore, to give them this control by the natural means which the rich possess over the poor ; in other words, to moderate the discordant counsels of a populace, in whom lay the rights of deciding, by the influence of an aiistocracy who might lead or dictate those deci- sions ; but he knew not how to accomplish this by a clear and explicit definition of the powers of the one body over the other ; whence it happened, that neither part of the public having its rights and privileges well defined, they were perp' tually quarrelling about the limits of authority, and instead of a salutary and cordial cooper- ation for the general good of the state, it was an eternal contest for suj)remacy, and a mulual desire of each other's abasement. These, which may be esteemed radical defects in the constitu- tion of the two principal republics of Greece, were heightened by several very impolitic laws and customs peculiar to each, which, as I formerly touched on them, I shall not recapitulate. It is sufficient to say, that the detail of the systems of Solon and Lycur- gus, such as they are described to us hy ancient writers, and the history of those rival republics, both in their quarrels with each other, in their foreign wars, and above all in their intestine factions and disorders, afford full conviction that the form of governmen* which they enjoyed was in itself extremely faulty. The revolu- 216 TINIVEIIS-VL IIISTOIIV. [bOOK K tions to uliiclj those slates, iuiil j);irli(;iilurly llic forinor, was siil>- ject, plainly prove that their consiitulions were not iVained for stability, or for any long measure of duration ; and the condition of the people (the true criterion of the merit of any political fab- ric) was, in reality, such as to partake more of actual servitude and oppression than the condition of the subjects of the most despotic monarchies. It is a known fact, that the slaves formed by far the greater part of the inhabitants, both of the Athenian and Lacedaemonian states ; and to those, more especially at Lace- dsmon, the free citizens behaved with the most inhuman rigor. Neither were the free citizens more inclined to a humane and liberal conduct to those of their own condition ; a debtor became ipso facto the slave and bondman of his creditor, who might com- pel him to labor in bondage and fetters at his ])leasure. Thus, a great ])art, even of the free citizens, was actually enslaved to the other ; a circumstance which we shall see, under the Rom.an commonwealth, was the source of the most violent civil con^.mo- tions. We may judge then with what propriety these can be termed free governments, where abject slavery was the condition of the majority of the people. Nor were the superior classes in the actual enjoyment of a rational liberty and independence. They were perpetually divided into factions, which servilely ranked them- selves under the banners of the contending demagogues ; and these maintained their influence over their partisans by the most shame- ful corruption and bribery, of which the means were supplied alone by the plunder of the public money. The whole, therefore, was a regular system of servitude, which left nothing free or ingenuous tn the condition of individuals, nor any thing that can justly furnish encomium to an unprejudiced advocate for the dignity of human nature. If such was the condition of the chief republics of antiquity, whose liberty we so frequently hear extolled with boundless enco- mium, and whose constitution we are taught from our childhood to admire, (and, in fact, this may fairly be. ranked among the preju- dices with which ingenuous youth can scarcely fail to be tinctured from a classical education,) it is not, perhaps, unreasonable to con- clude, that a pure and perfect democracy is a thing not attainable oy man, constituted as he is of contending elements of vice and virtue, and ever mainly influenced by the predominant principle of self-interest. It may, indeed, be confidently asserted, that there never was that government called a republic, which was not ultimately ruled by a single will, and, therefore, (however bold may seem the paradox,) virtually and substantially a monarchy. The only diHerence between governments, with respect to the political freedom of the subject, consists in the greater or the smaller number of restraints by which the regulating will is con- trolled. This subject is sufiiciently important to merit a short illustration CH. VI.] GREECE RETUOSPECT. 217 In every regular state tliere must be a governing power, whoso will regulates the community. In the most despotic governments, that power is lodged in a single person, whose will is subject to no other control than that which arises from the fear of his own deposition. Of this we have an example in the Ottoman govern- ment, which approaches the nearest of any monarchy we know to a pure despotism. But in most monarchies, the will of tlie person called the sovereign is limited by cerlain constitutional restraints which he cannot transgress with safety. In the British government the will of the prince is controlled by a parliament ; in other limited monarcliies, by a council of slate, whose i)0wers are acknowledged and d'^fmed. But this parliament, or council, which thus limits the w-ill of the prince, is in those matters where it exercfses its right of hmitation, superior to the will of the prince, and, therefore, in fact, the sovereign power of the slate. ,Novv this controlling power, consisting apparently of a number of wills, is, in reality, always led by a single will; by some individual of great and commanding talents, to whose acknowledged superiority his equals in rank or office either all pay a willing obedience, o' whose partisans are generally sufficient to outnumber his opp: nents. Thus we have a single will in the council opposed to, or controlling the will of the prince. But where there are two con- tending wills, one must of necessity yield to the other. The king must either rule the leader of the council, or the latter must rule the former ; and in this case, though not nominally, it cannot bo denied that the latter is, in reality, in any such exercise of his will, the supreme power of the state. Thus it is in limited monarchies. Now how does the malter stand with respect to a rej)ublic or democracy? Precisely the same. The people flatter themselves that they have the sove- reign power. These are, in fart, words without meaning. It is true ihcy elect their governors ; but how are these elections brought about? In every instance of election by the mass of a people — through the influ» ments of the Greek architecture, should ever have given into « taste so barbarous as die Gothic; and this, perhaps, while the* are gazing with vacancy of eye upon the cathedral of Milan, onr- of the noblest Gothic structures in the world. The truth is, th» two species of architecture are so different, that no comparisoi can with justice be instituted between them. The object, indeed oi" both is the same — to strike with pleasure, or with awe; biu they employ means which are totally distinct, and both obtain their ends. I have observed that the sublime disregards all mi- nuteness of ornament, which serves but to distract the eye. The Gothic architecture may be judged to off^end in that particular, though it ought to be considered that in the best specimens of Gothic architecture, even where we find that minuteness of orna- ment, its effect is counterbalanced by the simplicity of the greater members of the fabric. The capital of a Gothic column, it is true, is crowded with a profusion of fantastic ornaments of men, beasts, birds, and plants; but that capital itself consists of few divisions; its column is of a magnitude that nobly fills the eye; the sudden elevation of the arch has something bold and aspiring; and while we contemplate the great and striking members of the CH. VII. J ARCHITECTURE 229 building, the minuteness of ornament on its parts is but transiently remarked, or noticed only as a sujterficial decoration, uliicii de- tracts nothing from the grand effect of the whole mass. To return : The Greeks, of all the nations of antiquity, pos- sessed an unrivalled excellence in the arts depending on design Sculpture and painting were brought by them to as high a jiitch of perfection as architecture. It is the peculiar advantage of the art of sculpture, that, being ordinarily employed on the most durable materials, and such as possess small intrinsic value, it bids tho fairest of all the arts to eternize the fame of the artist. While its works resist all natural decay from time, they afford no tcmi)tation to alter their form, in which consists their only value. They may lie hid from neglect in an age of ignorance : but they are safe, though buried in the earth ; and avarice or industry, to supply the demands of an after age of taste, will probably recover them. What precious remains of ancient sculpture have, in the last three centuries, been dug out of the ruins of Rome! What treasures may we suppose yet remain in Greece and in the rest of Italy! To the discovery of some of those remnants of ancient art has been attributed the revival of painting and sculpture, after their total extinction during the middle ages. This, at least, is certain, that, till Michael Angelo and Raphael, feeling the beauties of the anlicjue, began to emulate their noble manner, and introduced into their works, the one a grandeur, and the other a beauty unknown to the age in which they lived, the manner of their predecessors had been harsh, constrained, and utterly deficient in grace. Mi- chael Angelo was so smitten with the beauties of the antique, that he occupied himself in drawing numberless sketches of a mutilated trunk of a statue of Hercules, still to be seen at Rome, and from him called the Torso of Michael Angelo. Raphael, whose works have entitled him to the same epithet which the Greeks bestowed on Apelles, The Divine — -Raphael confessed the excellence of the antKji'e, by borrowing from it many of his noblest airs and itiiludes ; and his enemies (for merit will ever have its enemies) feave ar,serted, that of those gems and basso-relievos which he had been at pains to collect and copy, he destroyed not a few, in order ihat the beauties he had thence borrowed might pass for his own. Die practice of those artists, whose names are tlie first among the noderns, affords sulHcient argument of the superiority of the an- cients. Their works remain the highest models of the art ; and tve who, in the imitation of the human figure, have not nature, as they had, constantly before our eyes undisguised, and in hop most graceful and sublimest aspects, can find no means so short and so sure to attain to excellence, as by imitating the antique. Every" artist should accustom his eye to the contemplation of the antique, before he begins to work after nature ; for this reason, that the antique presents nature without her defects, offering the collected result of all her scattered beauties, and these even 230 U.NIVKRSAF. IIIiTOllY. [bOOK II. heightened hy the iinaginalioii of ih(,' artist. The srliohir ulio lias ihiis inade hiiiisclf rainiliar with the aiiti{|iie, when he hegins to iinitale naliu'e, will immediately (hseeni hi-r striica|)Ts flourished A'.V) b. c. Many of his works are enumerated by Pliny, lib. 30, c. 5; and it is sufficient ar pument of his talents to say that the best judges of antiquity deemed many of hia Btalues oqiial to those of Praxiti.-les 2<>2 UMVEHSAi. msToiir. _]book i; Ainoiip; llio GrcMjks, Nature was not only socii uitliout disguise and ill her noblest and most graceful attitudes; she was in reality in the luiuiaii rii:;ure superior to wlial we now see in the ordinary race of men. NVithout indulging the whimsical hypothesis of some pjjilnsophers, that the moderns, com|)ared with the ancients, are a degenerate breed, it may safely be asserted, that among the ancient Greeks^ the youth, trained from infancy in the daily prac- tice of gymnastic exercises, must have exiiibiied a finer form of body, a more j)erfect symmetry of limbs, and a shape more pic- tures(pie, than what must necessarily result from the constraint of the modern tnethod of clothing, and the luxurious and compara- tively efleminate system of modern education. The varied forms of manly beauty exhibited in the Pythian Apollo, the Antinous, and the Fighting Gladiator, (if this statue be rightly so named,) are evidently Hir beyond the model of the human figure as we see it in the j)rcsent race of men ; but we lunc every reason to believe that their prototypes were to be found in tiiose ages to which we now refer, though doubtless we must at the same time make allow- ance for the genius of the artist, in exalting and improving even that excellent Nature which presented itself to his eyes. In con- templating the figure of the Farnesian Hercules, the work of Glycon, (what Horace, by an allowable metonymy, has termed the invicti membra Glyconis,*) and in considering the prodigious strength of the back and shoulders, and strongly-marked distinction of the muscles in the breast and arms, we are apt at first view to censure the form as exaggerated beyond all nature: but in this superficial judgment we forget what was that nature which the sculptor had for his model of imitation, and do not consider, that to personify a divinity whose characteristic attribute was strength, it was necessary that that nature, superior as it was, should be amplified and exalted by the imagination of the artist. Of this heightening of nature the Greek sculptors have given the noblest examples in the representation of their gods: " Non vidit Phidias Jovem,"says Seneca, " nee stetit ante oculos ejus Minerva: dignus tamen ilia arte animus et concepit deos, et exhibuit."f And this leads me to remark what must have been likewise another and a very powerful source of the advancement of the arts of design among the Greeks. The Grecian mythology furn- ished a most ample source for the exercise of the genius of the painter and sculptor. The distinct and characteristic attributes of the several deities, their actions, and the poetical fables connected * " The limbs of the invincible Glycon," for the invincible limbs of hia statue. • " riiidias never saw Jupiter, nor did Minerva present herself to his eyes : but his mind,' worthy of his art, both formed Uiose divine conceptions and represented them." C(l. VM.] GRECIAN ART. 235 with their history, fLirnished an inexhaustible supply of sublime, beautiful, and highly pleasing subjects. We know, since the revival of the arts, how much those of painting and sculj)ture have been indebted to the Roman Catholic religion, which furnishes not only an abundant demand for the works of the artist, but sup- plies him with an endless variety of subjects in the lives of its numerous saints and martyrs. But in this respect at least tiie Roman Catholic religion must yield to that of Greece, that the painful and often shocking scenes which it presents for the pencil will bear no comparison with the varied, gay, and amusing pictures of the pagan mythology. Of the ability of the Greeks in painting, we must speak with more diffidence than we have done of their superiority in sculp- ture. Of the latter, those admirable works yet reinaining, justify the highest encomium that can be bestowed upon them. Of the former, it would be unjust to form any estimate from those incon- siderable specimens supposed of Grecian painting, which lime has yet left unde^troyed. The paintings discovered in Ilerculaneum, the celebrated picture of a marriage in the Aldobrandini collection, those found in the Sepnlchrum jYasonianiim at Rome, and other pieces enumerated by Dutens,* were probably the work of Greek artists; for we have no evidence that the Romans ever carried any of the ails depending on design to much perfection. But wiili regard to the Greeks the case is very different. Their excellence in the art of painting is loudly proclaimed by all antifjuity. Of their eminence in the kindred art of sculpture we are ourselves the judges. Now we cannot reasonably call in question the taste of those ancient authors who have written in praise of the paintings of the Greeks, when we find the same judgment which they have * As I\I. Dutnns, in his amusing and instructive essay on the Discoveries attributed to tiie Aloderns, lias enumerated, it is believed, all the e.xisliiijr re- mains of the genuine paintings of the ancients, it may afford satisfaetlinn to readers of curiosity, to see the complete catalogue as given by (hat author. " The ancient paintings still to he seen at Rnme are, a n-clining Venus at full length, in the paLifc uf Barberini, the Aldobrandine nuptials, a ('oiiolanus in .me of the cells of Titus' b;itiis, and seven other pieces taken out of a vault at Ihe fool of Mount I'alatine, among which are a Satyr drinking out of a horn, Kiiil a landscape with figures, both of the utmost beauty. There arc also a Bicrificial picre consisting of three fi(rures. and an (Kdi|)us and a S|)hin.\, all of which ('irin<"rlv belongi'd to the lonil> of Ovid. The pictures discovered at Mcrculaneuin disclose beyond all others a happiness of design and boldness of expression that could [iroceed only frfun the hands of the most accomplif'hed artists. Tlie picture of Theseus vaii(|uishing the Minotaur, that of the birtl of Telephus, Chiron, and Achilles, and I'an and (^lympe, present innumerable beauties to all pi^rsons of disci'rnment. '{'here were found, also, in Uie ruins of that city, f >ur capital pictures, wherein l)eanty of design seems to vie with the most skilful mannijement of the pencil, and which appear to be of an earlier dale than those before spoken of." — Diitnis, p. M70. [Some paintings of great spirit have, since our author wrote, been discovered at I ompeii ; but these were only i\ie furniturc-piclurcs, so to speak, of a private residence in a prorinciaJ town.] VOL. I. 30 234 UNIVERSAL HISTOIIV. [UOOK II given upon the works of sfuljihin^ qonfiinifd by tlio univcrsa. assent of modern critics. If we find that Pliny is not guilty of exaggeration or censurable for false taste wben lie extols liie noble group of Laocoon and his sons,* terming it "a work excelling all that the arts of painting and sculpture have ever produced," why should we sujjposc that he exaggerated, or that his taste was not eijually just, when he celebrates the |)raises and critically charac- terizes the diderent manners and distinct merits of Zeuxis,f Apelles, Arisiides the Theban, j Parrhasius, Protogenes ana Timanthes? Parrhasius seems to have been the Correggio of antiquity ; possessing the talent, and displaying the pleasing, ele- gant, and rounded contour of this artist. Pliny, (lib. 35, c. 10,) in characterizing the paintings of this artist, commends chiefly in his figures the argutias vuUm^ elegnntiam capiUi^ ct veniislatem ons.,§ and highly praises the correctness of his outline. The same writer mentions an allegorical paintin'; of Parrhasius, representative of the character of the Athenians, in which tlie artist seems to have formed a just idea of that inconstant and fickle populace. " Pinxit et Demon Alheniensium, argumento quoqiie ingejiioso : volebat namque varitim, iracundum^ injiistum.,inconstantem — cundem exora- bilem, clemcnlem, miscricordem^ exa hum, gloriosum, humikm^pro' cem, fugaccmque, et omnia pariter ostendere.'" \\ It were to be " " Sicnt in Lancoonte, qui est in Titi Impcratnris domo.opus omnibus Pt picturre el staluarifE artis proefeicnduin, ex uno liipide eiiin pt liberos dranonuinqiip mirabi- les nexus de consilii sententia fecere suinnii artifices Agesander et Polydorus et Athenodorus Rhodii." — Plin. 1. xxxvi. c. 5. t Zeuxis flourished 397 b. c. The ancient authors are very hi£rh in tlieir praises of tlie woiks of this great painter. He was pecuharly excellent in paint- ing female beauty. Dionysius of Halicamnssus informs us that the people of Crotona, wantinir him to paint a naked Helen, sent him five of the most beautiful young women of their city, whose separate perfections he united in his picture, and produced a miracle of beautv. Cicero o-ives the story at large, and ron nmnre. Ho tells us that Zeu.xis was brought to the Palirstra and shown a great numbei of the most beautiful boys. " These," said his conductors, " have as many sis- ters, whose beauty you may easily guess from what you now see." "IS'ay, but," said Zeuxis, " send me the young women." The Crotonians held a public coun- cil on that requpst, and it was agreed to furnish him with what he demanded. — Cic. de Inrcnt. Rhet. 1. 2. t Aristides flourished in the age of Alexander the Great, and was contemporary with Apelles, Parrhasius, and Timanthes. Plitiy says of Aristides, that his paintings were the first which gave the expression of the soul and the feelings : and as an instance, he mentions a celebrated picture of Aristides, in which, in s besieired citv. a mother is represented dying of a wound in her breast, and holding back her child lest it should suck blood instead of milk ; a picture which is sup posed to be the subject of a beautiful epigram in the Anthologia, thus happily translated by Webb, in his Beauties of Peiinting : " Suck, little wretch, while yet tliy mother lives, Suck the last drop her fainting bosom gives : She dies; her tenderness survives her bieatii, And her fond love is provident in death." I " The arch expression, the beautj' of the hair, and charm of the mouth. I| " He painted also an ingenious allegorical picture of tlie Genius of the Athe en. VIII.] GRECIAN AUT. 235 wislied that Pliny had given us some idea of the composition of a pictiiie so extraordinary in point of subject. If Parrliasius was the Correggio, Apelles was indisputably the Raphael of antiquity : " Omnes prius isenitos., fulurosquc postea supcravit Jlpelles,"* are the words of Pliny, who, in his estimates of the works of art, is generally supposed to speak less from his own t^iste than from the common opinion of the best judges of antiquity. The peculiar excellence of Apelles, as of Raphael, lay in that consummate gracefulness of air which he imparted to his figures, and in which he surpassed all his rivals in the arts. '•'■ Prcbcipua ApeUis in arte venustas fuit, cum eddcm a'tate maximi pictores essent; quorum opera quum admiraretur, coUaudatis am- nibus, dcesse Us unam illam venerem dicebat quam Grceci Xuaua vacant : ccetera omnia contigisse^ sed hac soli sibi neminem parem." J — Plin. 1. 35, c. 10. It is well known that Alexander the Great had the highest esteem of this artist ; and having em- ployed him to paint his mistress Campaspe, showed a singular example of generosity and self-command, in bestowing her as a gift on his friend the painter, who had fallen in love with his beautiful model. It was a high testimony to the merits of the artists, but it was at the same time a judicious policy for himself, that Alexander would suffer no other painter, statuary, or engraver, to form his effigy, than Apelles, Lysippus, and Pyrgoteles ; a fact which accounts for the singular beauty and excellence of all the figures yet remaining of that prince. To the merits of Protogenes, a critic of genuine taste among the ancients has borne a high testimony : I speak of Petronius Arbiter. That author, mentioning his having seen in the palace of Trimal- chio (Nero) some sketches by the hand of Protogenes, says that on handling them, he felt a reverential awe, as if they had been something more than human. J It was to the high excellence of Protogenes as an artist, that the city of Rhodes, the place of his nativity, owed its preservation when besieged by Demetrius Poli- orcetes. When that prince sa\> no other means of reducing the nians, rpprespntinjr a being at one and the same time fickle, irascilile, unjust, in- constant, yet placable and compassionate, vainglorious yet humble, ferocious yel cowardly." * " Apelles surpassed all who had gone before, and all who will ever come after him." t " In the grace of his pictures Apelles surpassed all the ffreat painters of his arrp : whatever praise was bestowed on their works, still that pecuhar beauty which the Greeks term Xuinra (Grace) was wanting ; in the otiier qualities f)f lii.s art, others may have attained equal perfection, but in this he was unrival led." t In pinacothecam perveni vario gonere tabularuin mirabilem ; nam etZeuxidos manus vidi, nnndum vetustatis injuria virfas ; el Prntogenis rudimenta cum ipsiua nalurtE verilatc certantia, non sine quodam horrore tractavi. Jam vero Apellif quam Gra'ri innnocnimon appellant, etiarn adoravi. Tanta enim sublilitate ex- .remitales imaginiim crant ad siinilitudincm priBcism, ut credcres etiam animorum esse picturain. — Pet Arb. Satyr. 256 UMVKusAr, iiisroKY. [nooK ii cily than by scltiii,!:i; it on Civo In a jjarlicular f|narlor, .n wliich lliLTC was a cclehrattHl j)ainliiig of I'rotogcncs, \\t: cUosc ratlicr to libandon the enterprise than hazard the destiiiclion of what was, in his opinion, of the highest value. On the whole, if we have not the same dcMnonstrative evidence of the attainments of the Greeks in painting tliat vvc have of their eminence in sculpture, namely, the existing monuments (jf the art, we have every degree of presumptive evidence which the sub- ject can admit to warrant an oj)inion of an equal degree of excel- lence. These arts require the same talents, their progress is influ- enced by the same moral causes, they owe their advancement to the same taste and genius; and it is impossible to suppose the one to have been successfully cultivated in any age or nation, whilo the other remained in a rude and imperfect state.* If any apology were necessary for the length of the preceding observations on the state of the arts in Greece, I would remar"k, that as it is the province of history to exhibit the character and genius of nations, so the national character of the Greeks was in nothing more signally displayed than in those branches of art to which I have called the reader's attention in this chapter. In tracing the mutual relation of moral and political causes, this pecu- liar genius of the Greeks will be found to have extended its influ- ence to the revolutions of their states, and to their fate as a nation. Its advancement marked the decline of the severer morals and the fall of the martial sj)Irit ; for the fine arts cannot exist in splendor, but in a soil of luxury and of ease. The taste for these supplanted the appetite for national glory, and at length ignominiously sup- plied the place of public virtue. The degenerate Greeks were consoled for the loss of their liberty by the flattering distinction of being the humanizers of their conquerors, the magistri et arbitri elegantiarum to the unpolished Romans. • For a most ample account of the ancient painters, sculptors, and architects, drawn from the writings of the Greek and Roman authors, the reader is referred to the learned work ol' Junius de Pictura J eUruvi, a.nd the catalogue of artist* subjoined to that work. See likewise a very ingenious and learned Dissertation on the Painting of the Ancients, by T. Cooper, Esq., in the third volume of Mem of the Lit. and Phil. Soc. of Manchester. ,11.1 GRECIAN GAMES 4*.^ CHAPTER VIII. Fubllc grt OS of Greece — IlfTects on character — Manners — Poetical composition anterior o prose — Homer — Hcsiod — Arcliilochus — Terpander — Snpplio — Pin- dar — A,-tcreon — The Greek epigram — The Greek comedy, distmgnshed into the .Id, the middle, and the new — Aristophanes — Men;inder — Greek tragedy— ^-chylus — Kuripides — Sopiionlc-s — Mode of dramatic representa- tion— Thv -jpcient drama set to music — Tlie Mimes and Pantomimes — Of tiie Greek hist, v'ans— Herodotus — Thncydides— Xenophon — Polybius — Diodorua Sicuius — D.^»ysius of Halicarnassus — Arrian — Plutarch. Under ihe bAfly part of the Grecian history we had occasion to treat of the Of.,!^iii, and somewhat of the nature, of the public games of Greece?. Among all nations, in that period of society when war is not ».idiiced to a science, but every battle is a multi- tude of single ccuibats, we find those exercises in frequent use which tend to nicrease the bodily strength and activity. The Greeks, however, seem to have been the first who reduced the athletic exercises to a system, and considered them as an object of general attention and importance. The Panathenaean, and after- wards the Olympic, the Pythian, the Nemsan, and the Isthmian games, were under the sanction of the laws, and subject to the regulations laid down by the ablest statesmen and legislators. They were resorted to, not only by the citizens of all the states of Greece, but even by the neighboring nations. Thus not only was a spirit of union and good understanding kept up between the several slates, which, in spite of their frequent dissensions and hostilities, made them always regard each other as countrymen, and unite cordially against a common enemy; but this partial intercourse which the games produced with the inhabitants of other countries, induced an acquaintance with tiieir manners and genius, and contributed very early to polish away the rust of barbarism. In those games, therefore, we may see the cause of two opposite eflects: tliat Greece, in the early period of her history, was dis- tinguished for martial ardor and military prowess; and that in the latter ages, elegance, politeness, and refinement were her predomi- nant characteristics. This passion of the Greeks for shows and games, extremely raudable, and even beneficial, when confined within due bounds, was carried, at length, to a most blnmable and pernicious excess. The victor, in the Olymjiic games, who had gained the first prize at running, wrestling, or driving a chariot, was crowned with higher honors than the general who had gained a decisive battle. His 238 UNIVERSAL HISTORT. [ BOOK IL praises were sung hy the poets ; lie had slatucs, and even temples, dedicated lo his name. Cicero remarks, that among the Greeks It was accounted more glorious to carry o/Tihe pahn at the Olympic games, than among the Romans to have ohtained tlie honors of a triumph. * Of these nations, it was easy to foretell which was doomed to be the master, and which the slave. The games of Greece were not exclusively aj)propriatcd to gymnastic and adiletic exercises. Those immense assemblies were the resort, likewise, of the poets, the historians, the rliapso- dists, and even the philosophers. It is a singular fact, that in all nations there have been poets before there were writers in prose. The most ancient prose writers among the Greeks, of whom we have any mention, Phe- recydes of Scyros, and Cadmus of Miletus, were posterior above 350 years to Homer. Of those poets who preceded Homer, some of whom are supposed to have been anterior to the Tiojan war, as Linus and Orpheus, we have no remains, f Homer, of whose birth both the place and the era are very un- certain, is, according to the most probable opinion, believed to have been a native of Ionia, and to have flourished 277 years after the taking of Troy; that is, 970 years before the birth of Christ. This illustrious man, the father of poetry, was, probably, a wan- dering minstrel, who earned his subsistence by strolling from one city to another, and frequenting public festivals and the tables of the great, where his music and verses procured him a welcome reception. Lycurgus, the Spartan lawgiver, is said to have been the first who brought from Ionia into Greece complete copies of the Iliad and Odyssey; which, however, were not arranged in the order in which we now see them, till 250 years afterwards, by Pisistratus, tyrant of Athens. The method which he took to col- lect those poems, by offering rewards to all who could recite, or produce in writing, any of the compositions of Homer, renders it probable that those poems had originally been composed in de- tached ballads, or rhapsodies. | From these various recitations, which were carefully transcribed, Pisistratus caused certain learned men of his court to prepare what they considered the most per- fect copies, and to methodize the whole into regular poems, as we * Propc majus et gloriosius quam RomtB triumphasse. — Ac. Oral, pro Flaceo t Linus is feigned to liave been the son of Apollo, and is said to have been the first lyric poet. Stobfcus gives some verses under the name of Linus; but they are believed not to be authentic The fragment's published under the name of Orpheus, in the Poffn(l- anl on liis di-ath-hed, in translatinij into Enijlish and Latin vers^ -v\ne of th« 'HJsl epigrams of tii« Anthologia. 244 UMVERSAI, HISTORY. [bOOK II but ilin principal characteristic of tlio Greek epigram is ingenuity and simplioitv, or what the French term na'irele. The era of clramaiic composition amone; the Greeks is supposed to have commenced about 590 b. c* Thcspis, who is said to have been the inventor of tragedy, f was contemporary with Solon; and if the drama originated with the Athenians, it is equally cer- tain that they brought it to a very high pitch of perfection. The Greek comedy has been divided into three distinct classes, the old, the middle, and the neic. Of the old comedy, which is noted for the extreme freedom and severity of its satire, the principal dramatists were Eupolis, Cratinus, and Aristophanes. Eupolis atque Cratinus, Aristophanesque poetse Alque alii quorum Coincrdia prisca viroruin est, Siquis erat dignus describi, quod nialu-: ac fur, Quod mcEchus foret. aut sicarius, aut alioqui Famo3U3,t multa cum liberlate notabanl. Ilur. Sat. lib. i. sat. 4. .\nd it had been well if their satire had been confined to the vicious alone and notoriously profligate. We might excuse, when such were the sole objects of castigation, even the unbridled license with which they wielded the iron scourge of sarcasm. Unfortu- nately their censure was not so discriminating, as appears by the dramas of Aristophanes, yet preserved entire. If it be true, that under the administration of Pericles at Athens, all compositions for the stage were submitted to the review of certain judges, whose approbation it was necessary to obtain be- fore they were allowed to be performed, it is not easy to account for those gross immoralities and violations of common decency which are to be found in the comedies of Aristophanes. Of this author's composition, we have eleven dramatic pieces, which, it • Aristotle considers Homer as the founder of the drama among the Greeks —not as having himself written any composition strictly of a dramatic nature, oat as having led the way to it, by his lively represcnlaiions of life and man- ners, both in the more serious and graver aspects and in the comic; his Iliad and Odyssey bearing the same relation to tragedy, that his MargUes does to •:omedy. — Arist. de Poet. c. 4. t Mr. Harris thus plausibly accounts for the priority of tragedy to comedy in the poetry of all nations : " It appears, that not only in Greece, but in other countries more barbarous, the first writings were in metre, and of an epic cast, recording wars, battles, heroes, ghosts; the marvellous always, and often the incredible. Men seemed to have thought the higher they soared, the more im- portant they should appear ; and that the common life which they then lived was a thing too contemptible to merit imitation. Hence it followed, that it was not till this common life was rendered respectable by more refined and polished manners, that men thought it mijht be copied, so as to gain them ap- plause. Even in Greece itself, tragedy had attained its maturity many years before comedv.as may be seen by comparing the age of Sophocles and Euripides, with that of Philemon and Menander." t " Eupolis, Cratinus, Aristophanes, and other old writers of comedy, used •inbounded license in exposing the knave, the thief, the adulterer, the assassin or anv infamous character whomsoever." CH. VIII. J GREEK COMEDY. 245 must be owned, do not give a favorable opinion of the taste of the Athenians at tliis period of their highest national splendor. It is true, that we discern exquisite knowledge of human nature in those dramas, and that they have higli value, as throwing light on the manners and customs of the Athenians, and even on their political constitution. But there are coarseness of sentiment and ribaldry of expression in the comedies of Aristophanes, which to modern taste and manners appear extremely disgusting. We must presume, that even in the days of the author, such perform- ances could have been relished only by the very dregs of the populace ; and that what chiefly recommended them to these, was the malicious sarcasm and abuse which was thrown upon their superiors, often the best and worthiest members of the common- wealth. To the old comedy — of which the extreme license and scurrility became at length disgusting, as the manners of the Athenians be- came more refined — succeeded the middle comedy, which, retain- ing the sjjirit of the old, and its vigorous delineation of manners auti character, banished from the drama all personal satire or abuse of living characters by name. The writers of this class were numerous, and we have several fragments remaining of their com- positions, but no entire pieces. Of these fragments, Mr. Cumber- land has published some valuable specimens, admirably translated, in the sixth volume of The Ob erver. Of these specimens, the passages taken from the comedies of Alexis, Antiphanes, Epicrates, Mnesimachus, Phoenicides, and Timocles, will give pleasure to every reader of taste. Last came the new comedy of the Greeks, including in point of time a period of about thirty years — from the death of Alexander the Great, to the death of Menander, the last and, perhaps, the greatest ornament of the Grecian drama. In this short period, the Athenian stage was truly a school of morals; and while com- edy lost none of her characteristic excellence in the just delineation of manners, sin; had the additional graces of tenderness, elegance, and decorum. Of this brilliant era, the chief dramatic writers were iMcnander, Philemon, Diphilus, ApoUodorus, Philippides, and Posidippus. In the comedies of Menander was found a vein of the most refined wit and pleasantry, which never transgressed the bounds of decency and strict morality. I lis object was at once the exem- plary display of the charms of virtue, and the chastisement of vice ; and en)i)loying, alternately, the grave and the jocose, attempering moral example with keen but elegant satire, he exhibited the most instructive as well as the justest representations of human nature. Quintilian and Plutarch * have deservedly enlarged on the * Quint. 1. X. c. i., and riiilarcli. Comp. Aristoph. and Menand. 246 UNIVF.nSAI, IIIS70KY. [book. II Mieiiis of this cxcclloiit (li;iiii;iilf; poet, expressing ilieir opinion, lliai lie lias e(li])sed ilie rcpdtalioii of all ihe other writers in the same dcparlinciit anionic the ancients. By the former of these authors, the plays of Menander ar(! rccominended, as a school of elo(]uencc for the Ibrnjalion of a perfect orater; so admirahle is the skill of the poet, in |)ainting the manners and passions in every condition and circumstance of life. The eulogium of Menander, by Quintiiian, might, in modern times, be held as no exaggerated character of our immortal Sliakspeare. How much is it to be regretted, that of all the works of this great master of the ancient drama, of which there were near one hundred comedies, there should, unfortunately, remain nothing more than a few detached passages preserved by Athenaius, Plutarch, Slobseus, and Eusta- ihius! Yet even these justify the high character which the an- cient critics have given of this poet; and we have yet a completer and more ample proof of his merits in the comedies of Terence, which are now universally considered as little else than versions from Menander.* Next in merit to Menander, and not inferior to him in fertility of genius, was Philemon, who is recorded to have written no less than ninety comedies. Of his remains, the few fragments preserved by Athenaeus and Stobseus do not derogate from the character given of him by Quintiiian and the ancient critics, as second, at least, in dramatical talents to the prince of the comic itage. In the same scale of merit stood Diphilus, of whom Cle- mens Alexandrinus and Eusebius give a high character in point of morals as well as comic humor. Of his works, as well as those of his rivals, Apollodorus, Philippides, and Posibippus, there re- main a few fragments. Time has happily spared to us more considerable remains of the tragic muse of the Greeks than of the comic, and fortunately those pieces which have been preserved, are the production of the three great ornaments of the drama, jEschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. Among the celebrated tragic poets, .^Eschylus ranks first in priority of time. Seventy years had only elapsed since the days of Thespis, when the Greek drama had no other stage for its exhibition than a wagon. The improvement that took place from that period, to the time when ^schylus produced those pieces which were crowned at the Olympic games, must bave been great indeed. This autlutr is said to have written sixty-six tragedies, for thirteen of which he gained the first prize in that department of poetry. The tragedies of iEschylus abound .n strokes of the true sublime ; but his genius, not always regulated * Mr. Cunibprland, in the Observer, No. 140. lias translated some of the fragments of Menander with great spirit and suHlcient fidelity, as also one of Diphilus. CH. VIII. J EURIPIDES SOPHOCLES. 447 by good taste, frequently betrays him into the bombast: SuoUmU — g;ravis — et grandiloquus usque ad vitium^ says Qiiintilian. He studied not in his compositions that res^ularity of plan, and strict observance of the unities, wiiich the works of the succeeding poets seem to have rendered essential to the Greek drama; but to this very circumstance we are indebted for the wild and romantic nature of his plots, and that terrible grandeur with which his characters are sometimes delineated. The high esteem which Aristophanes had for the talents of jEscliylus, is demonstrated by tnat dispute which in his comedy entitled '' The Frogs," he feigns to have taken place in the infernal regions between Euripides and ^schylns foi- the tragic chair. Bacchus, the judge of the contro- versy, gives a direct decision in favor of ^schylus; and Sopho- cles acquiesces in the judgment, and declares that though he him- self is ready to contest the palm with Euripides, he yields it willinglv to -'Eschylus. Euripides and Sophocles were about fifty years posterior in time to >35schylus; though both of them had begun their dramatic career in his lifetime. The judgment of the critics, both of ancient and of modern times, is almost equally balanced between these great masters of the drama. Quiutilian leaves the question unde- cided with respect to their poetical merits; but prefers Euripides, as afibrding a better practical model of oratory, as well as on the score of his admirable, prudential, and moral lessons. Euripides is a great master of the passions, and with high skill in the excite- ment of the grander emotions of terror, rage, and madness, is yet more excellent in exciting the tender affections of grief and pity. In the judgment of Longinus, this poet had not a natural genius for the sublime; though the critic acknowleges that he is capa ble at times, when the subject demands it, of working himself up to a very high elevation, both of thought and expression. This criticism is certainly fastidious in no small degree. If a poet has it in his power to rise to the sublime when his subject demands it, what better proof can we have of a natural genius for the sublime.^ But how absurd to deny that the JMeclea is the work of a tran- scendent native genius for the sublime! As a moralist, Euripides ranks j)erliaps the highest among the ancient poets. He was the only dramatic writer of whom Socrates deigned to attend the representations. The singular esteem in which Cicero held him as a moral writer, he ,has stongly expressed in one of his letters to Tiro,* and it is a remarkable anecdote, that Cicero, in the last moments of his life, when assassinated in his litter, was occui)ied in reading the Medea. It is well known, that that great and good man expected his fate; and we must thence conclude that ho thought no preparation for death more suitable than the excellent * Cic. Tp. ad Fam. lib. xvi. cp. 3. £48 UMVF.USAI. JIl.^TOIlV. [uOOK II moral reHefiions of his favorite poet. Of seventy-five tragedies written by Euripides, tlicre remain to us nineteen, and the frag- ment of a tueniielh. Qiiiiitilian justly gives it as a decisive proof of the high merit of this great dramaiist, that Menandcr admired, and followed him as his model, though in a different species of the drama.* Contemporary witli Euripides was iiis great rival, Sophocles, who, in the judgment both of the ancient and modern critics, shares equally with the former the chief honors of the tragic muse. As the principal excellence of Euripides is judged to lie in the ex pression of the tender passions, so the genius of Sopliocles has been thought more adapted to the grand, the terrible, and the sublime. Yet the latter has occasionally shown himself a great master in the pathetic. I know not that either the ancient or the modern drama can produce a passage more powerfully affecting, than the speech of Electra on receiving the urn which she is told contains the ashes of her brother Orestes: Si (ptXtdTs fivT]/neiov dv\)'g(in(DV Ijiol, &.c. Soph. Elect., Act \v. We perceive in the tragedies of Sophocles great knowledge of the human heart, together with a simplicity and chastity of expression in the general language of the characters, which greatly heightens his occasional strokes of the sublime. Of all the productions of the Greek stage which time has spared to us, that which is generally esteemed the most perfect is the GEdipus of Sopho- cles. There could not, perhaps, be devised a dramatic fable more perfectly suited to the excitement both of terror and pity than that of the unfortunate CEdipus; yet it is defective in one srreat point, which is a moral. There is no useful truth inculcated by the spectacle of a man reduced to the utmost pitch of human misery, and marked out as an object of the indignation and ven- geance of the gods, for actions in which it is not possible to accuse hmi of crnniiiality. I have formerly taken notice of this strange paradox in the ideas of the ancients with respect to morality, f and I will not repeat the observation. The manner in which the dramatic compositions of the Greeks were performed has afforded much matter for learned inquiry, and given room to considerable diversity of opinion. It is well known Uiat the ancient actors, both in the Greek* and Roman theatres, wore masks suited to the characters they represented, of which the enlarged and distended featui'es were calculated to be seen at a great distance; and the mouth was so constructed as to increase * Hiinc et adiniratns maxime est, ut sfppe testatur, et seculus quamfiuam in opere diversn, Menander. Just. Or. 1. x. c. 1. t Supra, book i., ch. 8. CH VIII. I GREEK TRAGEDY 349 ilie sound of the voice like a speaking-trumpet. The tragic dec- lamation was loud, sonorous, and inflated, while the tone of the comic actors was nearer to the manner of ordinary discourse. The ancient tragedy may indeed be described, not as an imitation of nature, but as aliogethi,'r an artificial composition, intended to produce a grand and imposing efiect by the united power of music, dancing, strong and expressive gesticulation, and pompous decla- mation; the whole introduced through the medium of some inter- esting, but simple story, fitted by its nature to excite powerfully the emotions of terror and of pity. The ancient comedy, with the accompaniments of music and dancing, was an imitation of ordinary life, intended to inculcate good morals by just delineations of the laudable or faulty characters of mankind, as the more seri- ous dramas of Menander and Terence; or to chastise vice by the ruder methods of satire, burlesque, and invective, as the comedies of Aristophanes and Plautus. As the tragic and comic dramas were thus diflerent in their nature, they were usually performed by different classes of actors.* Quintilian tells us that i^^.sopus declaimed much more gravely than Roscius, because the former was accustomed to act tragedy, and the latter comedy. f The dresses and decorations in the two species of drama were likewise altogether diflerent. Tlie tragic actor used the cothurnus, or high-soled buskin, which increased his height some inches, and also a stuffed dress to give a propor- tional size and breadth to the figure.^ The comic actor trod the stage with the soccus, or low-heeled slipper, and an ordinary garb suited to the character in real life. It was dierefore corresponding to Uieir figures that the former declaimed in a loud and solemn tone, or mouthed his part, while the latter s])oke in a natural tone and manner: Comccdus sermocinatur, says Apuleius, Tragcedus vociferatur. There are some circumstances regarding the exhibition of the ancient drama, on which the modern critics are not agreed. There IS good reason to believe that both the comedy and tragedy of the Greeks and Romans were set to music, and the greater part, if not the whole, sung by the actors, or sjjoken in musical intonation. * Plato, 3 Dial, de Rcpubl. f Roscius citatior, i^.sopus gravior full; quod illc coinocdias, hie tragoRdiai cgil. — Just. < *r., lib. xi., c. '.i. t Lucian tivcs a most ludicrous picture of tlip costume of llie tragic actors and their tur daucini;. — Tlr(ji On/ijOK:'f. '• Wlial mort' absurd and ridiculous spectacle can there l)e, tliau to iee a man nrtfullv drawing out his fiiruro to a most unnatural length, stalkiiiij in upon hiirli shoes, his liead covered with a li-arful masque, wilh a moulli ijapitig wide, as if he was about to devour the spe<'tators ; not to mention his slulVrd lirlly and chest, extended to i^ive the htwr ficrnre a proportional size ; then his lu'lluwing and rantiui!;, :,ojiietimes l)histerinir and thuinpiiig, then singing iambics, or music- ally whining (jut the most grievous calamities.'" VOL. I 32 i!50 UNivKFisAi. HISTORY. [book II like the recitative of tlie modern Italian operas Not to mention the etyinoio2;y of the words xoiiiuiiiiu and nxiyotDin^ plainly denoting the composition to be of the nature of song, there are many pas- sages of ilic ancient authors which countenance the foregoing opinion.* The ancient actors used in their performance a great deal of gesticulation, which was requisite, from the immense size of their theatres, in order to suj)ply the defect of the voice, which, even with the contrivance before mentioned to increase its sound, was still too weak to be distinctly heard over so large a space. A violent and strongly marked gesticulation was, therefore, in some degree, necessary; and this led to a very entraordinary praciice in the latter period of the Roman theatre: namely, that there were two persons employed in the representation of one character. Livy, the historian, relates the particular incident which gave rise to this practice. The poet Livius Andronicus, in acting upon the stage in one of his own plays, was called by the plaudits of the audience to repeat some favorite passages so frequently, that his voice became inaudible through hoarseness, and he requested that a boy might be allowed to stand in front of the musicians, and recite the part, while he himself performed the consonant gesticu- lation. It was remarked, says the historian, that his action was much more free and forcible, from being relieved of the labor of utterance; and hence it became customary, adds Livy, to allow this practice in monologues, or soliloquies, and to require both voice and gesture from the same actor only in the colloquial parts. We have it on the authority of Lucian, that the same practice came to be introduced upon the Greek stage. Formerly, says that author, the same actors both recited and gesticulated ; but as it was observed that the continual motion, by afibcting the breath- ing of the actor, was an impediment to distinct recitation, it was judged better to make one actor recite and another gesticulate. For farther information on this matter I refer to a very ingenious and ample disquisition by the Abbe Du Bos in his Reflections Critiques siir la Po'csie et siir la Pcinture. Tom. i. sect. 42. In treating of the Greek drama, it would be an omission not to mention a species of dramatic composition — cf a nature very much inferior to the proper tragedy and comedy of the ancients; but which, at length, in the corruption of taste, became greatly in fashion both among the Greeks and Romans, and seems, indeed, to have been carried to as high a degree of perfection as the * Suetonius, in speaking of the Emperor Nero, who piqued himself on his talents as a player, and used frequently to exhibit on the stage, says, " Tragft- dias ijuoi/iic caiitarit firrsomUiis. Inter catcra cantuTit Canarcn partttricntem (n strange part for his imperial majesty to perform !) Orestrvi matricidam, Oedipodrm cjracatum. Ihrcidcm insaiiiim." Some of these characters, il must be allowed, were sullicienlly consonant to their actor. ril. Vlll.] THE GREEK THEATRE. 25. nature of the composition would admit of. What I speak of 15 the mimes and pantomimes. The etymology of the words shows that this species of entertainment was considered as a sort of mimicry or ludicrous imitation. Tlie mimes originally made a part of the ancient comedy, and the mimic actors played or exhib- ited grotesque dances between the acts of the comedy. As this entertainment was highly relished, the mimes began to rest on their own n}erits, and setting themselves up in opposition to the comedians, delighted the vulgar by making burlesque parodies on the more regular representations of the stage. Some of these pieces were i)ubH3he(l, and were of such merit as humorous com- posilions, that the philosopher Plato did not disdain to confess his adnn'ration of them. The pantomimes differed from the mimes in this respect, that they consisted solely of gesticulation, and seem to have been very nearly of the same character with our modern pantomimes. What is termed in France the Italian comedy, seems, on the other hand, to hold a very strict affinity with the ancient mimes. Both the one and the other, if we may judge from the name, wei'e of Greek origin ; but they were introduced into Rome to- wards the end of the commonwealth — and, as the spectacle was greatly relished, the art was proportionally cultivated and improved. The performances became gradually more refined and chaste ; and that which was at first little better than low buffoonery, began at last to aspire at the merits of the higher drama, tragedy and com- edy. The tragedy of (Edipus was in the reign of Augustus performed at Rome by the pantomimes in dumb show, and that so admirably as to draw tears from the whole spectators. The chief actors in this department were Pylades and Bathyllus ; and the contentions excited by the partisans of these mimics arose at lengdi to such a pitch, that Augustus thought proper to admonish Pylades in private, and caution him to live on good terms with his rival, for the sake of the public peace. Pylades contented himself with re|ilving, that it was for the emperor's best interest, that the public should find nothing mow material to engross their thoughts than him and Bathyllus. The chief merit of Pylades, as Athe- naeus informs us, lay in the comic pantomime, and that of Bathyllus in the tragic. But however great the perfection to which these performances were carried by the ancients, they were always re- garded as a spurious species of the drama, indicating the corrup- tion of a more liberal art.* The genius of the Greeks was in no department of literary com * Luoian is a warm apologist of tlio art of pantoniinio in his dialogue TTtQi O^Xijnim:. And his contemporary, Apulcius, has given, in his florid style of \vrilin(r, an amusing account of an ancient pantomime en the subject of tlie Judgment nf Paris. Mctaniorph. 1. x. 252 UNIVERSAL HISTORY [UOOK II position more distinguished than in Iiistory. In attending to the progress of tlie arts and sciences, it has been generally remarked that there are particular ages in which the human mind seems to take a strong bent or direction to one class of pursuits in preference to all others. Emulation may in a great measure account for this: for when one artist or one learned man becomes confessedly eminent, others are excited by a natural bias to the same studies and pursuits in which he has attained reputation. In treating of the fine arts among the Greeks, we remarked that extiaordinary constellation of eminent artists which adorned the age of Pericles. We shall observe a similar phenomenon in the age of Leo the Tenth. In like manner we find tiie ablest of the Greek historians all nearly contemporary with each other. Herodotus, the most ancient of the Greek historians of merit, died 413 years before the Christian era; Thucydides 391 before that jieriod; and Xenophon was about twenty years younger than Thucydides. Herodotus, a native of Ilalicarnassus, one of the Greek cities of Asia, has written the joint history of the Greeks and Persians from the time of Cyrus the Great (599 b c.) to the battles Oi' Plataca and Mycale, a period of 120 years.* He treats incident- ally likewise of the history of several other nations — of the Egyp- tians, Assyrians, Medes, and Lydians. His account of Egypt, in particular, is extremely niinute and curious. He had travelled into that country, and besides what he relates from actual know- ledge and observation, he was at much pains to obtain from the priests every degree of information they could give him of the an- tiquities and of the manners and customs of the country. He likewise visited the greatest part of Greece, travelling thence into Thrace and Scyihia; and in Asia he made a journey to Babylon and Tyre, and the most considerable places in Syria and Pales- tine. With the object of writing his history, he seems to have been most solicitous to collect information from every quarter; and it is his greatest fault that he has not been sufficiently scrupu- lous in his admission of many idle and absurd anecdotes, which he had too much good sense to believe, and yet thought not unwor- thy of being recorded. It is true, tlwt for the most part he puts the reader on his guard in such matters as he considers to be either palpably fabulous or not sufficiently authenticated; but the dignity of history is debased even by the admission of such mat- ter, under whatever caution it is presented. It is not to be denied, however, that the merits of Herodotus are of no common degree. When we consider him as the earliest writer of regular history among the ancients whose works have been preserved; while we • Herodotus gives a very brief detail of the preceding period, from the roi^n ot Gyrres, king of Lydia (713 b. c.) to the birth oi Cyrus: but the hislu ^ properly commences willi Cyrus CH. VIII. J HERODOTUS TUUCYDIDES. 253 observe the valuable and instructive details wliicn wo find in liim, and in no other historian, and remark that the subsequent writers of reputation have rested for many material facts on his authority, while we attend to the unaffected ease and simplicity of his nar- rative, the graceful flow of his style, and even the charm of his antiquated Ionic diction — there is perhaps no jiistorian of antiquity who deserves a higher estimation.* Several of the ancient writers have impeached the character of Herodotus in point of veracity; out none in such severe terms as Plutarch, who has written a pretty long dissertation, expressly to show the want of faith and the malignity of the historian. The fact is, that Plutarch bore strong enmity against flerodotus for a supposed aspcr>ion cast by that historian on the honor of his country. Herodotus had relat- ed that, in the expedition of Xerxes, the Thebans, apprehensive of the fate of their own territory, deserted the common cause and joined the Persians. The fact was true; but Plutarch, who was a native of Chaeronea, one of the Theban states, could not bear this imputation on his country, and wreaked his sjjleen on the historian in the treatise before mentioned. The fiicts which he instances are in general very trifling, and are chiefly such sto- ries as the historian owns he has related on dubious authority. Herodotus is said to have recited history to the Greeks assembled at the solemn festival of the Panathenaia, or, as others say, at the Olympic games — an expedient for the good policy of which Lucian gives him credit, as there could be no means half so speedy of making known his genius and circulating his reputation. Those public recitations had an admirable effect. It was this display of the talents of Herodotus and the fame which attended it, that kindled the enthusiasm of genius in the young Thucydidcs. Thucydides was a native of Athens, and of an illustrious fami ly; being allied, by the female line, to the kings of Thrace, and by the male, a descendant from Cimon and Miltiades. A con- temporary, and familiarly acquainted with many of the most remarkable men of his country, with Socrates, Plato, Pericles, Alcibiadcs, it was no wonder that he felt the noble emulation of raising himself a name in future ages. He was bred to the pro- fession of arms, and distinguished himself honorably, in the begin- ning of the war of Peloponnesus; but having miscarried in an attempt to relieve Amphipolis, then blockaded by the Lacedaemo- nians, he was banished, on that account, from his country, for the space of twenty years. He retired to the island of jEglna, and employed the long period of his exile in composing his history of the Peloponnesian war, of the progress and detail of which, besides his own personal knowledge, he sj)ared no pains to obtain * In Ilerodoto, cam omnia, (nt pjto qiiidem sentio.) Icniter fluunt, turn ipsa SiuXtxTo; lialirt cam jiicnnditatpm ut laleiilcs etiaiii numeros coiiiploxa videatu — Quint, de Just. Or. lit). i.\. c. 4. '-.J 1 UNivKiis.u, iiisTonv. [book II the most accurate information. Introductory to his principal siih- ject ho c;ivi's a short view of the Grecian history, from the depart- ure of Xerxes, to the commencement of the war of Peloponnesus, which ct)nnects his history with that of Herodotus: hut he brings down the detail of the war only to the twenty-first year. The history of the remaining six years was written by Theopompus and Xenoi)hon. Thucydides is deservedly esteemed for the authenticity ol his facts, his impartiality, and fidelity. We are, indeed, involuntarily led from his narrative to favor the cause of his countrymen, the Athenians; of whom, however, it may be presumed, he had no reason to exa2;gerate the merits. The style of Thucydides is a contrast to that of Herodotus. The eloquence of the latter is copious and dilFuse, and his expression, never rising to the elevated and magnificent, is chiefly reniarkable for its simplicity and per spicuity. The former has a closeness and energy of style, which is equally lively and energetic.* Like Tacitus, he rises often to great sublimity of expression, and, like that author too, his diction is so compressed, that we find, often, as many ideas as there are words. f His narrative does not convey his meaning easily, and without effort. He makes the reader pause upon his sentences, and keeps his attention on the stretch to apprehend the full im- port of his expressions. That effort of attention, however, is always amply rewarded, by the wisdom and sagacity of his obser- vations, the intimate knowledge he shows of his subject, and the perfect confidence which he inspires of his own candor and veracity. There is no other among the Greek writers who has shone more in the department o^ iiistory, than Xenophon. This author was about thirty years younger than Thucydides; contemporary with many of the most illustrious men of Greece; and educated in the school of Socrates. He accompanied the younger Cyrus in his war against his brother Artaxerxes, and in the latter part of that expedition, commanded the Greek army in the service of Cyrus. We know the flital issue of that enterprise, in which Cyrus fell by the iiand of his brother; — a just reward for his unnatural and criminal ambition. | The retreat of the ten thousand Greeks, under Xenophon, gave him great fame as an able commander, eminently endowed with persevering courage, fertile in resources. "Densuset brevis, et semper inslans sibi Thucydides: dulcis et candidus et fusus Herodotus ; ille concitatis, hie reniissis affectibus nielior ; ille concionibus, hie sermonibus : ille vi, hie voluptate. — Quintil. 1. x. c. i. t Thucydides omnes dicendi artificio mea sententia facile vicil, ut vprborum prope iiuineruin sententiaruiii numero consequatur : ita porro verbis aptus et Eressus. ut nescias ulrum res oratioue, an verba sentenliis illustrentar. — ( icero b. 2. De Oral, t See supra, book ii. chap. 2. Cll. VIII. ] XENOPHO.V 256 unci possessing that happy talent of address, and that popular elo- quence, wiiich are fitted for gaining the ready obedience and the confidence of an army. The narrative of this remarkable expedi- tion, written by himself, has justly entitled him to a high rank among the historians of antiquity.* His historical, political, and philosophical works are numerous. f Among these, one of the most known, though certainly not of the highest merit, is the Cyrop(rjJia, or Education of Cyrus; a fanciful composition, which blends history and romance, and is equally unsatisfying in the one point of view as in the other. It is supposed that the author meant to exhibit the picture of an accomplished prince. But if that was his aim, to what purpose those frivolous and childish tales of the nursery, those insijiid jests, and that endless verbiage and haranguing upon the most ordinary and trifling occasions.'' Xenojjhon was a man of strict virtue and probity, of strong religious sentiments, referring all to the watchful administration of the Deity, but prone to the superstitious belief of auguries and omens. As a writer, in point of style, he is a model of easy, smooth, and unaffected composition ; and his pure Attic dialect has infinite grace, and a singular perspicuity or transparency of expression, which presents the thought at once to the reader's mind, and leaves him no leisure to attend to the medium through which it is conveyed: — a supreme excellence of style, and rare, because ignorantly undervalued, in competition with point, brillian- cy and rhetorical embellishment. Quid ego commemorem (says Quintilian) Xenophontis jucundilatem illam inajfectatam, sed quam nulla possit affectalio consequi — xil ipsce finxisse sermonem Grati(Z vidtantur') \ The three historians I have mentioned had the fortune to live in that age which witnessed the highest national glory of their country. But Greece, even in the days of her degcnerary as a nation, produced some historians of uncommon merit. Polybius lived in the second century before the birth of Christ; at the time when the only surviving spirit of the Greeks was that which ani- mated the small states of Achaia. His father, a native of Me- galoj)olis in Arcadia, was Prtetor of the Acha?an republic, and executed that important oflice with great honor. Polybius was trained from his youth to public affairs, for which his abilities emi- • See supra, book iJ.'chap^'Q. \ He wrote, besides the Anabasis and the Cvropffidia, a continuation, in seven Dooks, of the Greek hist/iry of Thucydidei : a Panegyric on Agesilaus; two trea- tises on the L:iceda;nionian and Athenian Republics; The Apc^logy for Socrates; and four hfuiks of tlie Mrmorahilia of that philosopher ; a treatise on Dotneslic Economv ; The Banquet ; Hiero. or the Kconomy of a Monarchy ", besides some smaller ess:iysness in the choice of his expressions, and inattention to the rifles of good writing: but he is every where perspicuous, and the sterling value of his matter abundantly compensates for his defects in point of rhetorical composition. The next who deserves to be mentioned among the Greek his- torians of eminence, is Diodorus Siculus, who, in the latter period of the commonwealth and in the age of Augustus, composed at Rome his excellent General History, a work of thirty years' labor, of which only fifteen out of forty books have been preserv- ed. The first five books relate to the fabulous periods, but record CH. VIII.J DIONVSIUS. 251 likewise a great deal of curious historical matter relative to the antiquities of the Egyptians, Assyrians, Persians, and Greeks. The next five books are wanting. The eleventh book begins with the expedition of Xerxes into Greece, and continuos the Grecian history, and that of the contemporary nations, down to the age of Alexandel* the Great. Tlie author is particularly ample on the affairs of the Romans "and Carthaginians. The work of Piodorus appears to have been in great esteem with the writers of antiquity. The elder Pliny is high in his commendation; Justin Martyr ranks him among the most illustrious of the Greek historians; and Euse- bius places greater weight on his authority than that of any other writer. The modern writers have blamed him for chronolo- gical inaccuracy. It is not to be denied that the History of Dio- dcrus is replete with valuable matter, and that his style, though not to be compared to that of Xenophon pr Thucydides, is pure, perspicuous, and free from all affectation. Dionysius of Halicarnassus deserves to be ranked amoiig the most eminent of tlie Greek writers of history, both in regard to the importance of his matter and the merit of his style, which, though deficient in simplicity, is often extremely eloquent. Dio- nysius came to Rome in the reign of Augustus, and continuing to reside there twenty-two years, employed that time in the most dili- gent research into the ancient records, in conversation with the most learned men of that age, and in the perusal of the older writers, whence he collected the materials of that most valuable work which he composed in twenty books, entitled Roman Jlnti' quities.* Of these only the first eleven books have been pre- served, in which the origin and foundation of the Roman state are treated with great amplitude, and the history of the republic brought down to the end of the decemviratc. He has been cen- sured for dealing in the marvellous ; but the censure applies equally to Livy, who has repeated the same stories, without, it is probable, eitlun" believing them himself or expecting his readers to do so. Those who write of the origin of nations have but scanty materials of genuine history, and are dius tempted to eke them out with the popular fables. And these it is sometimes im- portant to know, as they have frequently given rise to ceremonies and customs both of a religious and civil nature, of which the origm may therefore be considereil as belonging to authentic his- tory. The point in which Dionvsius is more justly to be blamed s his fondness for system, and the desire he has to persuade his readers of his own sagacity in discovering, as he imagines, a deep and refined policy in the founders of the Roman state, in all those constitutional regulations regarding the powers and rights of the "* He gives, in tlie TntrodtiRtlon to liis work, an ample acconnl of all the •ources of information from which liis liistory is compiled. VOL. r. 33 458 UNivEiisAr- HisTonv. [book i fiinbreiii orders, the functions of the magistrates, &c., which in realily could only have arisen gradually and progressively, as cir* cuuisiances poiiiicd out and re(julred lh(;ui. Of this error of Dionysius, I shall have another occasion to lake some notice. 'I'iiere are few of the ancient historians who deserve a higher rank in the estimation of the n)oderns than Arrian, whose history of the expedition of Alexander is the most authentic narrative we have of the exploits of that great concjueror, as he is also the best expositor of the real motives and designs of that extraordinary man, of whose policy such opposite judgments have been formed. The narrative of Arrian, as he informs us in his preface, is founded on the accounts given by two of Alexander's principal officers, Aristohulus and Ptolemy Lagus, afterwards the sovereign of Egypt. No historical record, therefore, has a better claim to the public faith. The brief account of India by Arrian, which includes the curious journal of Ncarchus's voyage, is likewise extremely inter- esting and instructive. The style of Arrian formed ou that of Xenophon, is a very happy imitation of that author's simplicity, purity, and precision. Arrian's merits are not solely those of an accurate and able historian; he was likewise a profound philoso- pher. It is to his writings that we owe all our knowledge of the sublime morality of Epictetus, of whom he was the favorite disci- ple, and has diligently recorded the philosophical lessons and maxims of his master. The short treatise entitled the Enchiridion of Epictetus, which is a complete epitome of the stoical morality, was written by Arrian, and, from its beautiful precision, is periiaps on the whole a more valuabre memorial of that great pliilosopher than the four books which Arrian has collected of his discourses. The last author I shall mention of those properly to be classed among the Greek historians is Plutarch, and perha|)s there is no writer of antiquity of ecpial value in point of important matter and useful information. Plutarch was a Boeotian by birth, a native of Checronca, a small state of which his father was chief magis- trate, with the title of Archon. He was borne in the 48th year of the Christian era, under the reign of the emperor Claudius. In his youth he travelled into Egypt, and while in that coimtry, studied under Ammonius, a celebrated teacher of philosophy at Alexandria. Returning thence into Greece, he visited all the schools of the philosophers in that country; and, finally, with a mind replete with useful knowledge and an extensive acquaintance with men and manners, he repaired to Rome, for the purpose of examining the public records and collecting materials for the lives of the illustrious men of Italy and Greece. The reputation he had acquired as a man of great erudition procured him the acquaint- ance, of all the learned, and introduced him to the notice of the emperor Trajan, who honored him with high marks of his favor and friendship, and conferred on him the proconsular gr vcrnment of Illyria. A public life, however, was irksome to Plutarch, CU. VIII.] PLUTARCH 259 whose chief enjoyment lay in the pursuits of literature aiuj phi- losophy. He returned, after the deatli of Trajan, to iiis native city of Chccronea, where he passed the remaining years of a long life in discharging the office of its chief magistrate, in ihe composition of his excellent writings, and in the continual practice of all the active and social virtues. The lives of Illustrious Men, written by Plutarch, must upon the whole be ranked among the most val- uable works which remain to us of the ancients. He is the only author who introduces us to an intimate and familiar acquaintance with those great men, whose j)uhlic exploits and political characters we find indeed in other historians, but of whose individual features as men, and of their manners in domestic, private, and social inter- course, we should be utterly ignorant, were it not for his descriptive paintings, and the truly characteristic anecdotes which he records of them. What, if at times the biographer is chargeable with a little garrulity, and a too scrupulous minuteness in the detail of cir cumstances not of the highest importance? So natural is the desire felt by the ingenious mind of knowing every thing that concerns a great and illustrious character, that we can much more easily for- give the writer who is ciieerfully lavish of the information he has collected, and at times descends even to trifling particulars, than him who, from a proud feeling of the dignity of authorship, is fastidiously sparing of his stores, and disdains to be ranked among the collectors of anecdote. A great charm of Plutarch's writings is the admirable vein of morality which pervades all his compositions. Every sentiment proceeds from the heart, and forcibly persuades the reader of the amiable candor, worth, and integrity of the writer. While his biographical details contain ftie most valuable part of the ancient history of Greece and Rome, his moral writings include the sum of all the ancient ethics. Perhaps it was no exaggerated estimate of his merits made by Theodore Gaza, when he declared that if every trace of ancient learning was to perish, and he had it in his DOwer to preserve one sin2;le book from the works of the profane writers, his choice would fall upon Plutarch. The style of this author, though, in the judgment of the best Clitics, neither polished nor pure, is at all times energetic ; and, on those occasions when the subject demands it, rises frequently to great eloquence. An ancient Greek epigram of Agathias records the high esteem which the Roman people entertained for this excellent writer, in erecting a statue to his honor.* *The e{tigram is thus translated by Dryden : " BfEotinn Pliitarrh, to thy donthless praise Dora martial Homo this jrrarpfiil statue raise; Because both (Jroece and she thy fame have shared, Their horoes written, and tlieir lives compared. But thou thyself could never write t'hy own ; Their lives have parallels, but thine has none. 260 UNIVKU.SAL IIISTOKV. [bOOK II CHAPTER IX. Greek Piiir.osorHV — Ionic Sect — Th.iles — Anaximander — Anaximenes — Anax air(iri».j — Ilaiic Sect — Pythairoras — Ernpedf)cle3, Slc. — Eleatic Sect — Zeno— Leucippr.3 — Democritus — Heraclitus — Socrates — Cyrenaic Sect — Arislippus— Cynics — Diogenes — iMegaric Sect — Plato — Peripatetics — Aristotle — Skeplici — Pyrrho — Stoics — Epicureans — Reflections. 1 HAVE already remarked that one considerable effect of the public games and festivals of the Greeks was the propagation and advance- ment of the literary spirit. The Olympic and other solemn games of the Greeks were not only tiie field of martial and athletic exer- cises, but of the contests for the palm of literature. Those immense assemblies were the stated resort of the poets, the historians, the rhapsodists, and even the philosophers. After the days of Homer and Hesiod, the increasing relish for poetical comj)osition gave rise to a set of men termed rhapsodists^ whose original employment was to travel from one city to another, frequenting public entertainments and solemn festivals, and reciting the works of the poets which they had committed to memory. As the early poets were the first teachers of the sciences, those rhap- sodists became con.mentators on their works, and expositors of their doctrines. The youth, who resf)rted to them for instruction, dignified their masters with the title of Sophists or professors of wisdom, and these sophists soon became the founders of different sects or schools of philosophy. The history of the ancient philosophy, if we consider how small a portion it embraced of useful knowledge, and yet how ardent the zeal of its teachers, and how keen the controvers'es of the different sects, affords on the whole a mortifying picture of the caprice and weakness of the human mind: but on these very accounts, no subject of contemplation is more fitted to subdue in man those arrogant ideas of his own abilities, and of the all-suffi- ciency of his intellectual powers to subject the whole phenomena both of the natural and moral world to his limited reason and un- derstanding. The most ancient school of philosophy was that founded by Thales of Miletus, about 640 years before the Christian era, and termed the Ionic sect, from the country of its founder. Thales is jaid to have learned great part of his knowledge in Egypt, as the ancients were fond of attributing the rudiments of all wisdom to tliat happy quarter. He became celebrated for his knowledge in en. IX.] GREEK PHILOiOrUV THA VES. 26-1 geometry and astronomy ; but the former of lliese sciences must be su|)posed to have been at that time in mere infancy, when one of Thaies's discoveries is said to have been, that all right lines passing through the centre of a circle divide it into two equal parts. Yet Thales made some bold and fortunate conjectures in the sci ence of astronomy. He conjectured this earth to be a sjjhere, and that it revolved round the sun. He believed tlie fixed stars to be so many suns encircled with other planets like our earth : he believed the moon's light to be a reflection of the sun's from a solid surface : and if we may trust the testimony of ancient authors, he was able to calculate eclipses, and actually predicted that famous eclipse of the sun 601 years before the birth of Christ, which separated the armies of the Medes and Lydians at the moment of an engagement. The metaphysical opinions of Thales are but imperfectly known. He su|)poscd the world to be framed by the Deity out of the original element of water, and animated by his essence as the body is by the soul ; that the Deity there- fore resided in every portion of space ; and that this world was only a great temple, where the sight of every thing around him reminded man of that Great Being which inhabited and pervaded it.* As a specimen of the moral doctrines of Thales we have the following excellent opinions and precepts: " Neither thc*crinies of bad men, nor even their thoughts are concealed from the gods. Health of body, a moderate fortune, and a cultivated nnind, are the chief ingredients of happiness. Parents may expect froir, their children that obedience which they themselves paid to their parents. Stop the mouth of slander by prudence. Take care not to commit the same fault yourself, which you censure in others." f The disciples of the ancient philosophers frequently inade bold innovations on the doctrines of their masters. Anaximander, the disciple and successor of Thales, who first committed the tenets of the Ionic school to writing, taught that all things are in a state of continual change ; thnt there is a constant succession of worlds : and that while some are daily tending to dissolution, others are forming. Anaximander is said to iiave been the first constructor of the sphere, to have delineated the limits of the earth and sea, and to have invented the gnomon for pointing jhe hours by the shadow on the sun-dial. His contemporary Anaximenes, of the same school, believed the Divinity to reside in the air, which he likewise made to be the original and constituent principle of all the other elements. The most intelligible and rational opinions of any philosopher of ' Tliales — liomines cxistimarc oportoro, omnia qiioe crrncrent Deoriiin rss6 »Ieriri; foil' cnini oiiinos casliores, velutiquc in funis essenl, nuiximc rt-lif^iosi. — ■ Cic. df Nat l)<'or i. 2. Diojr. Laerl in Vita Thai. 262 L'MVI.HS.tf, UI.MOIIV. [iJOOK II this icliool were llio-e of Anaxagoras ; aiio, as deviating most from the vulgar (Mrors and siij)erstition, lie was aceused of impi- ety He taught that the first eflicieiit ))rinci(>le of all things was an immaterial and intelligent Being, existing from all eternity ; that the substratum., or suhjeet of iiis ojjerations, was viatlery which likewise existed from all eternity in a chaotic state, com- prehending the confused rudiments of all different substances, which the intelligent mind of the Creator first separated, and then combined for the formation of the universe, and of all bodies, ani- mate and inanimate. It is true that Thales propagated the doc- trine of an eternal mind, the Creator and Ruler of the universe ; but he, like most of the ancient philosophers, seemed to consider this mind as united to matter, which was animated by it, as the body is by the soul. Anaxagoras regarded the mind of the Cre- ator to be altogether distinct from matter ; incapable of being included in space or substance of any kind, and of a nature entirely pure and spiritual. Eut if the general principles of Anaxagoras's philoso|)hy were correct and rational, when he came to particu- lars, his notions partook of the vulgar absurdities. He conjec- tured the stars to be stones, which the rapid movement of the ether had whirled up into the region of fire. The sun he sup- posed to be a mass of red-hot iron, somewhat bigger than the Peloponnesus ; an opinion, we are told, which led to a charge of impiety, and was punished by sentence of banishment and a fine of five talents ; though Pericles, who had been Anaxagoras 's puj)il, stood forth on that occasion as his defender. His successors of the Ionic school were Diogenes of Apollonia, and Archelaus ; the latter, the master of Socrates, who thence, in strict arrangement, should be recorded among the philosophers of the Ionic sect ; but as this great man made a signal revolution in philosophy, I delay to mention his doctrines and opinions, till I give a brief account of the notions of his predecessors. Soon after the Ionic, arose the Italic sect, so termed from the country where Pythagoras, its founder, is said to have first taught. Pythagoras is generally believed to have been a native of Samos ; but the time in which he flourished is quite uncertain. All that Brucker concludes, from comparing the different accounts, is, that his era may be placed somewhere between the forty-third and fifty-third Olympiad ; that is to say near six centuries before the birth of Christ. Pythagoras travelled .nto Egypt, where he spent, as is said, no less than twenty-two years :n the study of the sciences, as well as of the secret doctrines of the priests. After the invasion of that country by Cambyses, he was carried among the captives to Babylon, where he increased his stores of wisdom by the conversation of the magi. Thence he is said to have travelled into India, to acquaint himself with the doctrines of the Gymnosophists. Returning into his native country of Samos, he chose to escape the tyranny of its sovereign by migra- CH. IX.] PYTHAGOUEA.VS. 3G3 ting Into Iialy, wliore he established a school at Crotona, and sig- nally contributed, by his doctrines and example, to reform tb~ manners of that dissolute city. In imitation of the Egyptian priests, Pythagoras professed two different kinds of doctrine, the on^- accommodated to vulgar use, and the other reserved for the prv vate ear of his favorite disciples. The object of the former was morality; the latter consisted of many mysteries which we are probably at no loss for being very little acquainted with. Five vears of silence were requisite for preparing his scholars for the participation of these secrets. These disciples formed among themselves a sort of community; they lived all in the same house together with their wives and children; the}'' had their goods in common, and their time was parcelled out and appropriated to various exercises of mind and body. Music was in high esteem with them, as a corrective of the passions; and they had one kind of music for the morning, to awaken and excite the faculties, and another for the evening, to relax and compose them. The notion which Pythagoras inculcated of the soul's transmigratioK through different bodies, made his disciples strictly abstain from animal food. As a proof that Plutarch, though commonly regarded by the critics as an unpolisb.ed writer, was not destitute of elo- quence, we might desire any one to read that short oration of his TTfoi Quoxo(fayt(e;', an apology for the Pythagoreans abstaining from the flesh of animals, of which there is a beautiful paraplirase in the -Enir/e of Rousseau; an address to the feelings which would almost make iis believe ourselves monsters, for indulging an appe- tite so cruel and unnatural. The main object of the philosophy of Pythagoras was to mortify and subdue the corporal part of our nature by a certain prescribed course of discipline, and thus to prepare and fit the intellectual part for its proper function, the search of immutable truth, the contemplation of the divine nature, and the nature of the human soul. The long silence enjoined to his disciples accustomed them to mental abstraction. The sciences of arithmetic, music, geome- try, and astronomy, were sedulously cultivated; but whether as considered to be parts of the preparatory discipline, or as the ob- jects of that discipline, seems to be a little uncertain. The latter woitld appear the more probable supposition, for this reason, that the i)hilosopher taught that much mysterious and hidden truth was contained in certain arithmetical numbers and geometrical and musical proportions, which he communicated only to the higher and more advanced class of his disciples. Pythagoras regarded the human soul as consisting of two parts — the one a sensitive, which is common to man and the inferior animals; the other a rational and divine, which is common to man with the Deity, and is indeed a part of the divine nature. The first perishes with the body, of which it is an inseparable .adjunct; the other survives and is immortal; but after the death of one body it enters into 884 IJMVERSAI, HISTOIIV. [HDOK II. anotlier, and so passes llirotigh an endless series of nansniigralions. It is piinislicd hy dngiadalion into the body of an inferior animal, and thus snllers a tcni|)orary suspension of its rational and intellect- ual nature. It was this notion which led to abstinence from the flesh of animals. It is uncertain whether Pythagoras committed any of his doctrines to writing. What remains under his name is commonly believed to have been the writing of some of his disci- ples. The Golden Verses, on which Hierocles has written a com mentary, and which contain the ])rincipal moral tenets of the Pythagorean philosophy, are, from the polished structure of the verse, evidently of a much later age than that of the |)liilosopher. They have been attributed with some probability to Epicharmus, who lived about 440 b. c. Of the Pythagorean or Italic sect, there were many philoso- phers of reputation: — among others, Empedocles of Agrigentum, who attained to considerable eminence in physical science, and who is said to have thrown himself into the crater of Mount Etna, either from the desire of exi)loring the cause of its eruptions, or of pro})agating the belief that the gods had caught him up into heaven; it is a wiser and more charitable su})position, that he owed his death to a laudable but rash curiosity. Epicharmus of Agrigentum, the sui)posed author of the Jlurea Carmina., was Yi^"- wise a teacher of the Pythagorean philosophy, and attemj)tea lo render its doctrine popular by introducing them to the public through the medium of the drama; a project which gave offence lo the graver teachers of wisdom, but procured this philosopher a more extensive reputation; for his comedies were so excellent, that Plautus did not disdain to borrow from them. Archytas of Tarentum was likewise of the Pythagorean school. He is said to have suggested that division of the ten predicaments, which was afterwards adopted by Aristotle. It is as an able geometrician and astronomer that Horace has embalmed his memory and recorded his unhappy fate. " Te maris et terra?, numernque carentis arense Mensorcin cohibent. Archyfa, Pulveris exigui prope litus parva matinum Miinera, nee qiiicqiiam fibi prodest Aerias tentasse doin(>s, anitnoqiie rotundum Percurrisse polum morituro." * Hor. Od. 1. i. 28. He perished by shipwreck, in a voyage undertaken probably for die purpose of astronomical or geometrical discoveries. But tlie ' Close by the shore a span of earth contains, Oh, mighty man of art ! thy last, thy great remains ; Whose penetrating mind and skilful hands Measured the heavens and earth, and numbered all the sands. Vain is tliv learning now ; thy active soul No more shall trace the stars, or travel to the pole." BerUley. CH. IX. J ' ELEATIC SCHOOL, 265 most celebrated philosopher of the Pythagorean sect, of whose opuiions we have the best information, because derived from his own writings, is Ocellus Lucanus. His treatise IJfql ra tjuvto;, or ot the Universe, has come down to our limes entire, and is a valuable monument of the philosophy of the ancients. His fundamental doctrines are the eternity of the mundane system, and its absolute perfection, so as to exclude the possibility of change from the failure or corruption of any of its parts. From this ancient philo- sopher, Aristotle and Plato have borrowed largely in their writings on the nature of the universe. The Eleatic sect of philosophy, believed to have sprung from the Pythagorean or Italic, was founded by Xeno|)hanes, about 500 years before Christ. It was called Eleatic because it owed its fame chiefly to Parmenides, Zeno, and Leucippus, natives of Elea, a city of JEoYvd. The mctaj)hysical doctrines of this sect, m so far as we caa judge of them from the few fragments which have survived, and the notices of them found in the works of Aristotle, are perfectly unintelligible. They maintained that things had neither a beginning, an end, nor any change; that all the phe- nomena which we see of changes in the visible world are entirely in our own senses; and that of the real essence of things we have no perception, and therefore can attain to no knowledge : but as our senses are fallacious, and it is only through their medium that we perceive any thing, so we cannot trust to them, and therefore have no assurance of the truth of any thing whatever. Yet upon this basis of nothing, the Eleatics (strange to tell) raised a system of physios, of which the principal doctrines were, that the universe was a compound of the four elen)ents; that the stars were kindled up by the motion of the clouds; that the sun was an immense body of ignited vapor; but that various suns lighted various parts of the earth; and, finally, (the only rational dogma, though not derived by any logical inference from premises,) that there is but one God who rules over all nature. Of the Eleatic school were Leucippus and his disciple Demo- critus; though they seem to have introduced a philosophy co' siderably difTerent from that of Parmenides, Xeno|)h;uu's, anci Zeno. Leucippus supposed all things to have originated from atoms, moving in an infinite space, and producing all sensible ob- jects by their combinations: but it was only these combinations that we perceived; we did not perceive the atoms themselves; we therefore did not perceive the reality of things, but only their appearances; a strange and pitiful so|)histry. If Democritus held these opinions, it was no wonder that he, who is said to have laughed at every thing, should have laughed at the doctrines of his own sect, and at all who adopted them: but the truth is, that Democritus was of no such sportive disposition. He spent the greatest part of his life (which was extended to a hundred years) ji solitary study, in observing the phenomena of nature, making VOL. I. 34 266 UNIVERSAL HISTORY [bOOK M expeinnf:n(.s on minerals, and dissecting the human body — a course of life whicli indicates a genius superior to the folly of framing idle tlieorics on the sole basis of conjeciiire. From the same school of Elea, ihongh sometimes aecounteu the father of a new sect, was Ileracliins, whose disposition, the reverse of that of Democritus, accounted every thing a matter of melancholy. He seems to have been endowed with the austere spirit of a Carthusian; for, rejecting the chief magistracy of his native city, Ephesus, on account of the incorrigible vice of its inhabitants, he betook himself to the desert, and (ed upon roots snd water, making the beasts his companions in preference to man. He wrote a treatise on Nature, in which he made fire the origin of all things; but this fire he conceived to be endowed with mind, and to be properly the anima mvndi^ or the Divinity. His writings were purposely obscure, whence he got the epithet of l^xoreivog^ or the dark philosopher. It is said, that Euripides having sent this treatise on Nature to Socrates, the latter, with his accustomed modesty, gave it this character, "That all that he could under- stand of it seemed good; and that what surpassed his understand- ing, he presumed might likewise be so." Hitherto, the principal object of the ancient Greek philosophy seems to have been the framing of theoretical systems of the origin and fabric of the universe, and the nature of the Divinity, accounted its soul, or animating principle: sublime, no doubt, and daring speculations, but little accommodated either to the weak intellect of man, or suited to improve his moral nattn-e and increase his happiness. We must now speak of a philosopher who took juster views both of the powers and of the wants of human nature, and who, accordingly, directed his attention to that true philosophy whose object is at once to enlighten the understanding and improve the heart. It is easily perceived, that I speak here of Socrates, he who, according to Cicero's comprehensive eulogy, "brought down philosophy from heaven to dv.ell upon earth, who made her even an inmate of our habitations," * and directed her research to the real interests of man, in the pursuit of his highest attainable nappiness. With the fate of this illustrious teacher we are already acquainted, f It is necessary here only to take notice of his method of philosophizing, and of his principal doctrines. Greece was, in the days of Socrates, overrun with Sophists — pretended philoso- phers, whose whole science consisted in a certain futile logic; an artificial ap|)aratus of general arguments, which they could apply to every topic, and by which they could maintain, with an appear- ance of plausibility, either side of any proposition. It was usual for these philosophers to get up in the public assemblies or in the * Cic. Tusc. quBBst. 1. i. c. 5. i See supra, book ii c. 2. CH. IX.] SOCRATES. 267 theatres, and offer to argue or make an oiuiion on any subject that should bo named. The Athenians, a superficial peojde, Ibnd o*" every thing new and extraordinary, were guite captivated with this kind of jugglery.* The Sophists passed for the wisest and most eloquent of men; and the youth (locked in crowds to their schools, where the rudiments of this precious art were explained and communicated. The sober jiart of the Athenians judged this to be a very useless discipline ; but the wiser Socrates saw the pernicious tendency of this new art of philosophizing, which made every thing uncertain and problematical; and his penetrating intel- lect easily perceived the method by which it was to be exjjosed and destroyed. As all the strength and skill of the Sophists lay in the applica- tion of general arguments to the questions which they canvassed, nothing more was necessary for their confutation than to bring them to particulars — to set out by some simple and self-evident proposition, which being granted, another followed equally unde- niable, till the disputant was conducted, step by step, by his own confessions, to that side of the question on which lay the truth. No method could be devised more effectual than this for the detec- tion of sophistry; and the Athenian logicians very soon found that their general apparatus of argument would not avail them against so subtile an antagonist. They lost all credit and reputation as philosophers; but they had influence enough to poison the minds of the people with the belief that Socrates taught impious doctrines, contrary to the religion of their country; and their malice, as we have already seen, was but too successful. Their revenge was satiated by the death of one of the best of men : a crime which drew upon Athens the reproach of all Greece, and which she vainly endeavored to expiate by the punishment of his judges, and the honors paid to his memory. The doctrines of Socrates, which he never committed to writing, are only to be gathered imperfectly from Plato and Xenophon. The latter is the better authority, as Plato is generally believed to have used the name of Socrates on many occasions to give weight to his own opinions. Socrates founded all his morality on the belief of a God, who delightinl in virtue, and whose justice would reward the good and punish the wicked in an after state. Of con- sequence, he believed in the immortality of the soul. He held that there were intermediate beings between God and man, who presided over the different parts of the creation, and who were to be honored with an inferior worship. lie believed that virtuous men were particularly favored by the Divinity, who more espe " Seneca has well cnm])an'(i sophistical rcasoninir to the tricks of a jugglei, though he jiujirrs too favorably in ancounling it a hartiiless play: '' Idi'iii de istis captionibus dice- nee ignorant! nocent, nee ecientein juvniit." — Sen Epist. 45. •68 UNIVKRSAI. IllSlOliy. [liOOK II fiiilly iiianifcsicd his care of ihcin liy il'f-' constant |)rcsciice and aiil of a good guniiis, wiio diructcd all llioir atlions, and guarded ihcm hy secret monitions from iui|)Pn(iing evils; but on tliis sub- ject, as he declined to express himself uidi precision, it has been reasonably conjectured, that he alluded merely to the inOuence of conscience, which extends its power to the virtuous alone, and deserts the vicious, abandoning them to the just consequences of their crimes. With regard to the pursuit of knowledge, Socrates belli that all science was contemi)tible which did not tend to the happiness of man, by the regulation of his conduct in society; that the most beneficial wisdom is to be intimately acquainted with ourselves, to see our errors and defects, that we may be enabled to amend them. He inculcated a veneration for the religion of oui country, a strict respect to its laws, and a reverence for its govern ors, while at the same time he held the rational opinion tliat liie true foundation of legal government is the consent of the people, and the surest bond of the subject's allegiance, the watchful care and virtuous disposition of the sovereign. Socrates did not affect the manners or the habits of a public teacher. He had no school ; he gave no j)rofessed lectures on philosophy; he mingled with his fellow citizens in all ranks of life, conversing with each man on the subjects best suited to his occu- pation and talents. The theatres, the temples, the shops of the artists, the courts of justice, the public streets, were all occasion- ally the scene of his moral conversations and instructive arguments. Even the house of the courtesan Aspasia was honored witii his frequent visits. He found in that accomplished won)an a mind stored with various knowledge, an acute and vigorous understand- ing, and those engaging manners which gave her a powerful hold of the minds of the Athenian youth. She was the mistress and confidant of Pericles, who did not disdain to consult her on affairs of public concern. If we should hesitate to suppose that the philosopher thought it not unworthy of his character to improve her morals and reclaim her mind to virtue, he might leasonably seek his own improvement, and avail himself of her knowledge of the world to enlarge and extend his powers of utility. " Tutor of Athens ! he in every street Dealt priceless treasure: goodness his delight, Wisdom his wealth, and glory his reward. Deep througli the human leart. with playful skill, His simple question stole ; as into trutli And serious deeds he*smilcd the lauirhinnr race; Taught moral happy life, whate'er can bless Or grace mankind ; and what he tauut that in his character there were many features of a truly j^hilosophic mind, we are war- raie exists, for at whom shall he repine.'' He existed by the necessity of nature. Virtue, in the opinion of a Stoic, was nothing more than a manly resolution to accommodate the unalterable laws of nature. Vice was a weak and dastardly endeavor to oppose CM. IX.] THE STOICS EPICURUS. 279 \hose laws. Vice tlierefore was folly, and virtue the only true wisdom. But the virtue of the Stoics was not a principle of tranquil anc' passive acquiescence ; it was a state of continual, active, and vig- orous exertion. It was the duty of man to exercise the faculties of his mind in acquainting himself w^ith the nature, the causes, and the relations of every part of that universe which he sees around him, that he may truly understand his own place in it, and the duties which he is destined and called on to fulfil. It is incumbent on man likewise to exercise his faculties in the discerning and distin- guishing those things over which he has the power and control, and those which are beyond his power, and therefore ought not to be the objects of his care or his attention. All ihinsis whatever, according to the Stoics, fall under one or the other of these de- scriptions. To the class of things within our power belong our opinions, our desires, affections, endeavors, aversions, and, in a word, whatever may be termed our own works. To the class of things beyond our power belong the body of man, his goods or possessions, honors, dignities, ofhces, and generally what cannot be termed his own works. The former class of things are free, vol- untary, and altogether at our command. Tlie latter are in all respects the contrary; we cannot call them our own, nor in any shape control them. To the former, therefore, alone the wise man directs his care, and by a due attention to them his happiness is in his own power. The latter he despises, as incapable of affect- ing his real welfare, and in no degree obedient to his will. As the Stoics believed the universe to be the work of an all- powerful, all-wise, and supremely beneficent Being, whose jjrovi- dence continually regulates the whole of that system of which every part is so combined as to produce the greatest possible sum of general good ; so they regarded man as a principal instrument in the hand of God to accomplish that great purpose. The Creator, therefore, with transcendent wisdom, had so framed the moral constitution of man, that he finds his own chief happiness in promoting the welfare and happiness of his fellow creatures. " In the free consent of man to fulfil this end of his being, by accommodating his mind to the divine will, and thus endeavoring to discharge his part in society with cheerful zeal, with perfect integrity, with manly resolution, and with an entire resignation to the decrees of Providence, lies the sum and essence of his duty." Very different from this was the philosophy of Epicurus, wliich, however, proposed to itself the same end — the attainment of a perfect tranquillity of mind. The term by which he marked the object of his philosophy, contributed much to increase the numbei of his disciples. "The supreme happiness of man," said Epicu- rus, " consists in pleasure. To this centre tend all his desires , and this, however disguised, is the real object of all his actions. The puqiose of philosophy is to teach whatever best conduces 280 UMVKKSAI. IIISTOKV. [UOOK II to ilu! Iicalili ol" the body and of tin; iiiiiul ; for where either is iiiiooiiiul or diseased, he can enjoy no (rue happiness or pleasure. As ih(! heahh of the body is best secured by teuiperance, and the refrainini^ from all hurtful gratifications of the senses, so the health of the mind is best promoted by the practice of virtue, and the exercise of the benevolent and social allections." Thus, the term pleasure, as explained by Epicurus, involves nothing unwor- diy of the pursuit of the good and virtuous. Epicurus himself is said to have been a man of worth and probity, and it is a certain fact '.hat some of the most virtuous of the ancients were the pio- fesacd disciples of his system. Uut that the prinri|)le of his |)hi- losophy is unsound, needs no other proof than this; that if pleasure is admitted to be man's chief object of pursuit, every man must be allowed to be the best judge of what constitutes his pleasure, and uill determine, according to his own feelings, from what sources it is to be drawn. The practice of temperance might have been the pleasure of Epicurus ; and we are told that it was so, and that his favorite diet, and what he usually presented to his guests, was bread and water. But it is the chief j)leasure of others to be intemperate and voluptuous. It might have been the chief plea- sure of Epicurus to be honest and just in his dealings, but others find pleasure in fraud and chicane. In short, there is no vice or crime that might not find an apology, or rather a recomniendation. Had it not aHbrded pleasure it would not have been practised or committed. " If it is allowable for me," we shall suppose the disciple of Epicurus to say to his masier — "If it is allowable for me to pursue pleasure as my chief object, it is, of consequence, allowable for me to be vicious, if I find pleasure in it." "But vou are punished," says Epicurus, "in the consequence; and you will find vice j)roductive of pain instead of pleasure." "Of that," says the disciple, " I take my risk ; I look to the consequence, and I find it overbalanced by my present gratification : I find pleasure in this action, notwithstanding the hazard of its conse- quence : it is therefore allowable for me to commit it." Epicurus mu'=t grant that the conclusion is fair and legitimate. Equally erroneous with his system of morality, was Epicurus 's system of nature. An infinite number of atoms existing from all eternity in an infinite space, and continually in motion, were the elements of that matter of which the universe is composed; but this universe, thus composed of atomical or indivisible parts, has subsisted in its present form from all eternity ; and ever will sub- sist. It is, therefore, of necessary existence, and we have no need to resort to the power of a Creator to account for its origin, or to the wisdoin of a Deity for its maintenance and government. But though the notion of a Deity did not enter into the system of Epi- curus, to any active effect, he did not deny that the gods might exist. He professed even to teach that an order of eternal es- sences, clothed with a species of body, and endowed with senses CII. IX. J GREEK PUlI.OSOniV. 281 for the perception of pleasure, resided in some superior region of ilie universe, where they enjoyed a serene and infinitely happy exist- ence, unalloyed by any knowledge or perception of the ati'airs of this material world, and undisturbed by any care or concern for Its inhabitants. A religious creed, which, as Cicero well observes, IS but a mask for absolute atheism, and which its author could have no other reason for propounding, than the scr\ile fear of incurring danger from the open avowal of impiety.* From the foregoing brief account of the dilFerent sects or schools of philosophy in Greece, I shall draw only two reflections : The one is, that with a very few exceptions, and more particularly that of the sect last mentioned, an)idst all the errors incident to the mind unenlightened by revealed religion, the reason of mankind has, in all ages, looked up to a supreme, intelligent, and omnipo- tent Being — the Author of our existence — the Creator and the Governor of the universe: a belief which forces itself upon the most uncultivated underslanding, and which the advancf?ment of the in- tellectual powers tends always to strengthen and confirm. Tlie other reflection is, that, from the great variety and opposition of those systems which we have enumerated of the Greek j)hili)so|jhers, we may perceive among that ])eople a liberal 'spirit of toleration in matters of opinion, which stoppecl short at absolute irreligion and impiety ; and a freedom of judgment in all matters of jihilosophical speculation, which did honor to their national character, and the genius of their legislative systems. If the Greek philosophers did not attain to truth, or to the perfection of science, they had, at least, the road open before them ; and their errors may aflbrd useful in- struction to the moderns, by ascertaining the limits of the mental powers on matters of abstract speculation, by dispelling prejudices, simplifying the objects of investigation and discovery, and bringing the rational and candid inquirer nearer to the ends of his jiursuit. VOL. I. Cic. de J\'at. Dcor. lib. i. in fine. ft 86 BOOK THE THIRD. CHAPTER I. The Roman History— Earliest Periods of the History of Rome— Etruscani — Foundation of Rome — Disputed accounts of— Romulus — Rape of the Sabines — Origin of the Political Institutions of tlie Romans— Union with the SaLines — Numa — His Institutions — Tullus Hostihus — Ancus Martius — Tarquiniua Priscus. Of the precise era when the country of Italy was peojiled, we have no certain accounts, nor any thing beyond probable conjec- ture. There seem, however, good grounds to believe that this peninsula, enjoying great advantages of situation, soil, and climate, was very early a populous country, and inhabited in one quarter even by a refined and ])olished nation, many ages before the Roman name was known. This people was known by the appellation of Etrurians or Etruscans, though their more ancient designation IS said to have been Tyrrheni, from the name of a Lydian prince who brought with him a colony of his countrymen from the lesser Asia, and planted that part of Italy afterwards called Etruria. Of the early history of this people there remain but a few detached and obscure traces to be found in the ancient authors ; but there is reason to believe that, like all other colonies, their progress to civi'ization was much more rapid than^hat of an aboriginal people, and dial the Etruscans were in a very advanced state of improve- ment in manners and the arts, while the surrounding nat'ons or tribes in the centre of Italy were yet extremely barbarou'.. The Roman historians acknowledge this fact. Livy speaks of the Etruscans as a great and opulent people in Italy, power'.u* both at land and sea, before the origin of the Roman state. Dioiivsius ot Halicarnassus deduces most of the religious institutions of the Romans from Etruria. Augury and divination, which were essen- tial ingredients in most of their ceremonies and mysteiies, were certainly derived from that country, as probably were the first dawnings of Roman science and literature. The religion of the Etruscans was polytheism, and many of their deities were com- CH I.] THE ROMAN'S. 283 mon to them with the Greeks, as those of the latter will) the divinities of the Phoenicians and other Asiatic nations. The Ro- man theogony can easily be traced to those origins. The Cahirian mysteries of the. Romans, the Mithriac and Acheronlic ceremonies, were all immediately derived from Etruria. The Etruscan alpha- bet, nearly that of the Piujsnicians, was likewise used by the Romans in the early ages of their stale. The gradual change froiv this ancient alphabet to the characters used by the Romans in the latter periods, may be distinctly traced by the series of imcriplioM yet remaining. The ancient Etrurians are celebrated for their knowledge of astronomy, which countenances the notion of their Adriatic origin. They had successfully cultivated j)oetry and music. Scenical representations were in great repute among them; and the first comedians who appeared at Rome were brought from that country, on occasion of a pestilence, either from a superstitious idea of appeasing the wrath of the gods, or the humbler, though not less rational motive of supporting the spirits of the people under the general calamity. It is probable the Etruscans had made great progress m tne fine arts of sculpture and painting, and the practice of these arts presupposes a very high state of civilization. The elegance of the Etruscan vases, and the beautiful painting which decorates them, are subjects of just admiration and of zealous imitation by the moderns. Of this art, the fabric of pottery, the ancient authors agree in attributing the invention to this peojjJe,* and none other appears ever to have carried it to so high a pitch of perfection. Architecture, engraving of precious stones, sculpture, and painting, were of high antiquity among die Etruscans at the time when the Greeks were comparatively in a state of barbarism. The Etrus- cans were a declining people at the time of the foundation of Rome, though possessing many relicks of their ancient grandeur, both in their knowledge of the arts and in their manners. Tho Romans were mere barbarians ; but they had the good sense to copy after and adopt many improvements from their polished neig'nbors. The country of Etruria, as we learn from Dionysius, was divided into twelve districts, each of which was ruled by a separate chief, called in the Etruscan language Lucumo. Of these lucumones we find frequent mention in Livy. Each had a sovereign juris- diction in his |)rovince; but the whole were united in a confederacy, and held a general diet or council on all occasions in wliich the common interest was concerned. To give greater efficacy to •Tulianus, in his nralion to tlif Greoks, in which he rpprnachos thorn with their vanity in altrihnling to thi-insflvt-s thi» invonlion of nil art.^, ntfirm* fxni- tivolv tiial lh(' Ktrnscans Uugiit Ihi-ni the art of pottery ; demons .MrxandriniM makes the same assertion. 28'i UNivEnsAi, iiisTouy. [nooK iii. this union, ii a|)|)(;irs iluit, at least in time of war, the whole nation oboyiul a coiuinoii chief, who was elected probably by the whole of the Iiu'iimos. Livy informs us that no single stale could engage in war or conclude peace without the consent of th, 1(>.) desohited their country aliout the period of the Trojan war. These calamities were recorded in a poom fmnd on certain tablets of brass, called the Eugubine Tables, wliich were discovered A. D. 14-1 J, in a subtorraneous vault near the ancient theatre of Isruvium or Enpubiuni, now Gnbbio, a city of I'mbria. The poem is written in IVIasffian characteis This lamentation, with an interpretation by M. Gori, m.iy be found in " Sir William Hamilton's Etruscan Antiquities ; " and it is inferred from various circumstances to \c 247 years more ancient than the works of Hesiod. CH. I.] THE ETRUSCA.VS ORIGIN OF THE ROMANS 236 them; but their genius was not warlike: they were fond of and cultivated the arts of peace; and though occasionally cnga^red in hostilities with the Romans, they apj)ear never to have armed but when attacked. The gradual increase of population among a warlike tribe may enable them to {^reserve their conquests, either by garrisoning, or by transphmting a part of the conquered inhabitants into the capi- tal, and replacing them by a colony of citizens. This we shall see was afterwards the policy of the Romans, and thus by degrees they extended their territory and increased their power. But sometimes a flourishing people is compelled to colonize, from an overgrowth of its population. Dionysius of Halicarnassus informs us of the manner in which a state, when it became overstocked, transplanted its colonies. They consecrated to a particular sod all the yoiuh of a certain age, furnished them with arms, and after the ])erformance of a solemn sacrifice, dismissed them to conquer for themselves a new country. These enterprises were, no doubt, often unsuccessful; but when they succeeded, and an establish- ment was obtained, it does not appear that the mother state pre- tended to have any rights over them, or claims upon the countrj' where they settled. The origin of the Roman state is involved in great obscurity, and various accounts are given of the foundation of that illustrious city, which differ not only as to the time of its structure, but in all circumst^ces concerning it. To reconcile in some degree thr":e discrepancies, it is the notion of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, that *here were at different periods several cities which bore the name 01* Rome; that the Rome founded some time after the Trojan war, was destroyed, and another built in the first year of the seventh Olympiad, that is, 7.52 b. c; nay, he pretends to find evidence even of a more ancient Rome than either of these, but in wliat situation or period of time he does not determine. Who- ever wishes to see all the different accounts of this matter, and to be convinced how litile certainty there is in any one of thorn, may consult the learned dissertations of M. Pnnilly and of the Abb^ Sallier, in the sixth volume of the J\femoircs de I ' Acadhnie Set Inscriptions. The vulgar and generally received account of the foundation of Rome by Romulus is not upon the whole entitled to any degree of credit superior to the rest; but as it was commonly adopted by the Romans themselves, and has passed current down to modern times, it is proper to be acquainted with it, whatever doubt we may entertain of its audienticiiy. Rome, according to the chronology of Archbishop Usher, was founded 752 years before the Christian era. Romulus, at the head of a troop of shepherds, his followers, is said to have built a few huts upon the Palatine Hill, in a part of the territory of Alba; but as it is not very probable that shepherds shouM assem- ble to the number of 3000, it is natural to suppose them to have 28'i UNIVERSAL HISTORY [noOK IM bcoii banditti or frecjbootfrs, accustomed to waiul'T and to ravage; and llie increase.' of tl)cir nnnibers, while it furnished the means, probably snggosted the idea, of occupying and fortifying an inclosed territory for themselves. To strcngtiien the new community, and *to fill the space which they had marked out for their city, their chief proclaimed an asylum for all such fugitives and descrtert from the neighboring states as chose to put themselves under his protection, and acknowledge his authority. Hitherto, this new association consisted solely of men; it was necessary they should provide themselves with wonien. The story of the rape of the Sabines has much the air of romance; though it derives a degree of credit from the festival of the Con- sualia, instituted in honor of the god Cenms, the protector of plots; a solemnity which was always believed at Rome to have commemorated that exploit. Romulus proclaimed a great fes- tival and games in honor of Neptune, to which he invited all the neighboring states. The Sabines,* Cecinians, Crustumlnlans. and Antemnates, came thither in great troops. The plan was con- certed, and at a certain signal, a chosen band rushed in and carried ofT a great number of the women. The Sabines, and the nations in their alliance, prepared immediately to avenge this outrage; and the infant commonwealth of Rome was, almost at the moment of its formation, at war with all its neighbors. The Roman historians, to flatter the vanity of their country- men, have been extremely lavish of encomium on the high char- acter of Romulus, whom they paint with all the qualities of a consummate politician and legislator. But if even the Greeks, at this time with far greater advantages, were extremely rude and uncivilized, what ideas can we form of the people of Latlum, and their knowledge of the arts of government and legislation? There is certainly very little probability that a troop of banditti should all at once assume the form of a regular political structin-e, or that a great legislator should appear in the person of a freebooter, or of a shepherd, at the age of eighteen. The sounder opinion cer- tainly seems to be, that those wise and politic laws and institu- tions, commonly ascribed to Romulus, arose gradually from ancient usages and a state of manners prevalent in Italy before the foun- dation of Rome. If, however, we can suppose Romulus to have been in fact the founder of this new kingdom, its constitution would certainly prove that he had wise and politic views. He knew, in the first place. * The Sabines were an ancient people of Italy, situated between Etruria and Latium. Their capital was Cura:, in the territory now called Corezze. The inhabitants of Cecina, Crustiiminitim, and AntemniE. were probably eillier snb- iects or allies of tiie Sabine state. From CMres, the capital city of the Sabines, the Romans, aAer their union with Uiat people, took the appellation of Curites or CII. I.] ROMULUS. 287 the character and temperament of the people lie governed, and was well aware that then- nidc and ferocious spirit would not hrook the unlimited autliority of a despot. It was iheref(jro a judicious plan to admit the p(H)ple to a share in the government. He divided the mass of population into three tribes, and each tribe into ten curicc. Of the lands belonging to the state, he formed three great portions : one appropriated to the support of religion, which is an essential instrument of good government ; another destined for the public service of the slate ; and the third he distributed (.'qually among the thirty curia?, so that each Roman citizfui should have two acres of land. He formed a sctuite or council, composed of a hundred of the ciders, to whom he gave power to see the laws enforced, to consult concerning all affairs of state, and to report their o|)inion to the peoj)le in tiie comitia or assemblies, who were invested with the right of final determination in all matters of public importance. P^"om these first senators [centum patreft) chosen by Romulus, were descended those families at Rome termed patrician ; so that in a very little time a great distinction of rank arose from birth among the Romans. It has indeed been supposed by Dionysius, that the distinction of patricians and plebeians was anterior to the formation of the isenate, and that the one title was given to the richer, and the other to the poorer class of citizens. But whence can we suppose this inequality of wealth to have arisen, when the same author admits that there was an equal distribution among the whole citizens of those lands, in which alone their wealth could con- sist.'' Although Romulus gave great weight to the scale of the peo- ple i 1 the framing of this new government, yet lie reserved to him-. elf, as head of the community, very ample powers. The deliberations and decrees of the sei ate guided the resolutions of the j)eople, and the king had the prwerof naming all the senators. He had likewise the privilege o. assembling the people, and a right of appeal lav to him in all (jucstions of importance. He nad the command of the army, which at first comprehended the wi>ole ho jy of the people. He was chief priest, too, or ponlifex mnxi- lULj, and regulated every thing that concerned or was '^vcn remotely connected with religion ; and, with a very wise [/o'*cy, he took care that all that regardcfl the rule and econoni; cf the state was so connected. Romulus chose for the guard of his person twelve lic.ors, to whom he afterwards joined a trooj) of .300 horsemen, nan'.Cii (.ehres. This was the origin of the rqtiitfft, or Roman knight , vho be- came the second rank in the slate after the patricians. Jh'roiM the three tribes into which he divided the people, Romuii*: scic led from each trioe a hundred of the handsomest of thf yo-iil of whom he formed three companies of cavalry. This 7 "n of fortifying the city by a wall. The ceremony was concluded by a great sacrifice to the tutelar gods of the city, who wore solemnly invoked. These gods were termed Palrii and Indigeles, but their particular names were concealed with the most anxious caution from the knowledge of the people. It was a very pre- valent superstitious Ix'lief that no city could be taken or destroved till its tutelar gods al)andoned it. Hence it was the first care of a besieging enemy to evoke the gods of the ciiy or entice them out by ceremonies, by promising tiiem sujierior temples and festivals, and a more respcctfiil worship than they had hitherto enjnved ; but in order to accomplish this evocation, it was necessary to loam the particular names of the deities, which every people therefore was interested to keep secret. As all the superstitions we have mentioned were common lo the nations of ftnlv before the buildin;; of Rome, it was pxtrrmely natural that ihry should be adopted as part of its theoI(ig\-. VOL. I. 37 290 U.NIVKRSAL IIlSTOIiy. [book III. Ill Ireatiiii^ formerly of the Spartan constitution, I have remark- ed the error of those theories which attemj)t to trace all jmlitical institutions whatever up to the manners of a savage state ; or the belief that all forms of government, and, hy the same rule, all the revolutions of those governments, are the result of the natural pro- gress of mankind in society. The most limited knowledge of history gives us certain proof of many |)olitical systems being the operation of the genius of individual lawgivers. If we doubt as to the institutions of Lycurgus, of Charlemagne, or of Alfred, being as perfect as history has painted them, skepticism itself can- not refuse the instances of William Penn and of Peter the Great, any more than those stupendous experiments in government and legislauon which our own age has witnessed. But as to Romulus, we readily allow that the great outlines of his constitution have their model in the manners and usages of a semi-barbarous people. The pairia potestas of the Romans, or the sovereign power which every father of a family enjoyed over his household, may be plainly traced up to the manners of barba- rians. So likewise many of the early laws of the Romans were the necessary result of their situation. Such, for example, was that law which confined the practice of all mechanic arts to the slaves ; for all the free citizens must either have been employed in warfare or in the culture of their fields. But other institutions bear the stamp of political knowledge and enlargement of ideas. Such, for instance, is the Client la, or the connection of patrons and clients. To maintain a just subor- dination, and at the same time a mutual good understanding between the patrician order and the plebeians, every plebeian was allowed to clioose a senator for his patron, whose duty it was to defend and |)rotect him ; and he in his turn received from his clients, not only homage, but su|)port and assistance in all cases where his interest required it. Notwithstanding the excellency of this political arrangement, die enemies which the infant state of Rome had raised up among the neighboring nations of Italy would Iwve been too powerful for her, if they had followed any united plan or general measures. The rape of the Sabine women had exasperated all around them ; but as each nation, instead of uniting, attempted to pursue a sep- arate plan of revenge, they were all successively defeated. The town of Cennina was destroyed, and its inhabitants transplanted to Rome. The Crustumenians, in like manner, contributed to increase the victorious city; though Romulus chose likewise to preserve their own city, and to establish a colony in it, thus gain- ing a double advantage. The Sabine nation was tlie most formi- dable of their enemies. In one successful assault upon the city, they had penetrated as far as the Tarpeian hill, and a most obsti- nate conflict was maintained in the very heart of Rome, when tlie Sabinp women, the cause of the war, threw themselves in bp Cfl. I.] TATIUS ROMULUS. 291 fween the contending parties, and became the mediators between their husbands, and their faiiiers and brethren. Tlieir influence prevailed ; a peace was concluded, and the two nations nsreed henceforih to become one people.* Tatius, kints; of the Sabines, was associated with Ronuilns in the government : a most wisR and politic measure, which relieved Rome at once of her most for- midable enemy, and greatly increased her strength and j)0|)ulation. Thus, in a very few years from the period of her foundation, Rome was able to make head against the most powerful of tiie nations of Italy. Tatius did not long enjoy his dignity. He was killed a few years afterwards at La\inium, and RomuKis remained sole mon- arch of the united ])eo|>le. He made war against the Veientes with success, and subdued several of the states of Latium : but liaving disobliged his soldiers in the distribution of the conquered lands, and some of the |)rinci|)al senators becoming jealous of his power, a conspiracy was formed against him, and he fell a victim to treason, in the thirty-seventh year of his reign. A violent storm of thunder happening at the time, favored the report spread by the conspirators, that he was killed by lightning ; and the peo- ple, who revered his memory, enrolled him among the number of their deities, by the title of Qiiirinus.f As Romulus left no children, the people jud^ied the crown elective, and the question was whom to choose. The Sabines claimed an equal right with the Romans ; and, there being much discordance of opinion, the senate, which was composed equally of both nations, laid claim to the sovereignty, and dividing them- selves into Decurire, it was agreed that each decuria should reign fifty days, or each senator five days, — an arrangement which it was easy to see could not be permanent. The people suhmiited to it for a year, but at the end of that period declared their resolu- tion to have a sovereign for life. It was agreed that the senators of the Roman party should have the ri.:ht of electing, but that the choice should fall upon a Sabine. Numa, the son-in-law of Tatius, a luan of a recluse ami reserved disposition, but of great reputation for wisdom and probity, was chosen king ; and after a solemn consultation of the gf lartel, by cairying the ttn tribes into ca])tivity. 292 UNIVr.RSAL IIISTORV [kOOK III accidontiiUy discovered at Rome, after a la|)so of six centuries, the senate ordered tliein to be destroyed, as containing nothing which, in their judgment, could be useful, and much that might be of j)rt'JMdic(; to the state. But this fact certainly warrants no infer- ence unfavoraljle to the character or to the talents of Nurna. The political vievvs and regulations of that |)rince might be extremely wise, and well adapted to the age in which ho lived, and at the same time quite unsuitable to the spirit of the Roman constitution six centuries after him. Numa was of a pacific turn, and be seems to have aimed at giv ing his people the same character. It may be doubted whether this j)olicy were altogether wise in the situation in which the Ro- mans stood with respect to their neighbors. The king pretended to enjoy a divine Inspiration, and feigned that he was indulged in nightly conferences with the nymph Egeria, who dictated all those public measures which he proj)osed. He multiplied the national gods, built new temples, and instituted a great variety of religious ceremonies, of the most remarkable of which it is necessary, for the proper intelligence of the Roman history, that some short account should here be given. A custom then prevailed in Italy, by which every state, before going to war, was in use to determine whether the cause of the war were just or unjust. When a quarrel arose between one state and another, certain heralds, named Fecialcs, were despatched by the state which deemed itself injured to the aggressor, who pub- licly proclaimed the cause of offence, and demanded reparation of the injury. If the aggressor hesitated, ten days were allowed for deliberation, and that term was three times renewed. If at the end of that period justice was not done, the Feciales took the gods to witness of the wrong committed, and returned to their own city. War was then solemnly proclaimed, but was not commenced till one of the Feciales walked to the frontier, and threw a bloody javelin as a signal. This custom shows that the petty nations of Italy, barbarous as ihey were, had just notions of the blessings of a pacific govern- ment. Numa adopted the custom, and instituted at Rome a col- lege of Feciales. He built, likewise, a temple to Janus, which was kept open during war, and shut during peace. Most of the institutions of this prince were calculated to encourage the pacific spirit ; but this was not the tendency of his people, and their character soon became quite the reverse. A great part of Numa's policy consisted in using religion as an instrument of government.* * Yet the religion of Numa, accordinor to Plularch's account, was of a rational character, and quite remote from the superstitions of the vulgar. " lie forbade the Romans," sa_vs that author, " to represent the Deity in the form of man, or of any animal, nor was there any sculptured effiiry of the gods admit ted in those early times. During die first one hundred and si.Nty years, they CH. I.] NUMA. 2'J3 He instituted a college of priests called Flamines, from the flame- colored tufts upon their caps.* Each flamen was confined to ihe worsliip of a particular god; and Romulus, now deified, had his flamen, as well as Jupiter and Mars. A sacred buckler, or ancile, which was said to have dropped from heaven, gave occasion like- wise to the foundation of a new college of priests, who had the charge of it, and paraded with it, on particular occasions, in a kind of dance or procession. These were called Salii (a saliendo); and, lest the sacred buckler should be stolen or lost, eleven others were made, exactly resembling it, and deposited in the temple of Jupiter. I The veneration o^ fire was a superstition common, as we have seen, to several of the ancient nations. The custom of preserving this element continually burning was religiously observed among the nations of Italy, as among their eastern progenitors. Numa found this custom among tlie people of Alba; and introducing it among the Romans, he built a temple consecrated to Vesta, and appointed four virgins to attend her worship and to preserve the sacred fire. They took a vow of perpetual virginity, and were buried alive if they broke it. A punishment of this kind was ex- tremely rare; but when it occurred it was a day of mourning to all the citizens. The ignominy of the crime was thought to aliect all die relations of the criminal; and it was no wonder that, when a new vestal came to be chosen, every father dreaded lest the choice should fall upon his daughter. On the other hand, these sacred virgins enjoyed very high privileges. They were superior in sanctity of character to all the priests, and in some respects even controlled the laws of their country. A vestal could save a criminal going to execution, provided she gave her word tliat she had met him only accidentally. It was customary for individuals to make large donations to vestals, from motives of piety, or to leave them great legacies; and thus they often accumulated much wealth. Numa is celebrated for a reformation of the Roman calendar, which. It is said, made the year, before his time, consist only of built temples and shrinns, but inado no imairrg; judjrinij it impious to roprpsont tiip most excpllpnt of Bfinjfs by lliiii;js base and \in\vorlbv, since there is no aices: t > tiie Divinity but (jy^tiic niind, elevated and purified by divine contcm- p atiou." • Plutarch supposes the word fnmcn a cnrruptinn of plhimrn. from pileus. n cap There were at first only three Flamines, Flunicn Dialis, Murtialis, and Quirintilis. f Tlie S/ilii were oritrinallv twelve in number; hut Tullus Hoslilius, the successor of Numa, added other twelve. Those first instituted were called Salli I'.ilalini, from the Palatine Hill, where thev becjan their processions: the latter were termed Collini, or Affonenses, from the Collis Q«i>in/i/i.<, otherwise" called Airiirt'ilis. where they had a cha|iel. Their endowments were L'rent. and their entertainments costly ; whence the phrase Dapcs Shiliurci ts used by Horace for delicate meals, lib. i. O. 37. 294 UNIVKIISAL insTOUY. [book III len inoiilhs, of various lengths; some of tlicin, according lo Plu- tarch, consisting of twenty days, some of thirty-five, and some of a greater nun)ber. Numa added lo the year the months of Janu- ary and February, assigning to each month the nimiher of days of which it consists at i)resent. February being the most deficient, was always reckoned an unlucky mondi. lie distinguished like- wise certain days as Fasti and JSTefasli; on the former of which t was lawful to follow all civil occupations, while nothing of that sort was allowed on the latter except agriculture, which thence seems most wisely to have been regarded in a religious point of view. From this distinction of Dies Fasti et c-\>/a.9/f, the calen- dar itself took the name of Fasti^ or annals. It was the office of the Pontifex Maximus lo record in the Fasti the events of each year. Numa died after a reign of forty-three years, during the whole of which time the temple of Janu^ remained shut; so much does the disposition of a people de])end on the character of a sovereign.* After a sliort interregnum, Tullus Hostillus was elected to the throne by the people, and confirmed by the voice of the senate. This prince, of a very opposite character from his predecessor, paid little regard to his religious and pacific institutions. The temple of Janus was opened, and was not shut during his whole reign. He was victorious over the Albani, Fidenates, and several of the other neighboring slates. In the war with the Albani happcnpd the celebrated combat between the three Horatii and Curiaiii, in which the issue of the contest was determined in favor of the Romans, by the courage and ))olicy of the surviving Horatius. The victor, returning to Rome laden with the spoils of the \an- quished, was met by his sister, the destined spouse of one of the Curiatii. On seeing the spoils of her dead lover, she vented her grief and indignation in such violent terms, that her brother put her to death. " Be gone," said he, " to thy lover, and carry with diee that degenerate passion which makes thee prefer a dead enemy to the glory of thy country." The offender was brought before the duumviri, two criminal judges appointed by Tullus, and was by them condemned to death. By the advice of Tullus, he appealed lo the assembly of the people, who, in compassion to the dellverei" of his country, commuted his punishment to passing under the yoke, and at the same lime decreed him a tropliy. This incident shows one fact of importance, namely, that the jiowcr of the people had at this time become paramount to that of the prince, and that the government truly lay in the joint concurrence of the regal authority with that of the several orders of the state. "Contemporary with Nnma, was Sennacherib, kinir of Assyria, and Esarhart don, wlio muted the kingdoms of Assyria and Babylon. CH. I.J ANGUS MARTIUS. 295 Under ihe reign of Tiilkis, as we find the Romans at war with the Sabines, it appears that the union of the two nations was by iliis time dissolved; and, henceforward, we find the Sabines classed am.ong those of the neighboring states with whom the Romans carried on constant hostilities. The neglect of religion during the reign of Tiillus is said to have excited the vengeance of the gods, who punished the Romans by a severe pestilence. The king himself was seized widi it, and became as pious as his predecessor ; but his repentance was too late, for he was killed by thunder, or as some authors report, by a fire in the city, after a reign of thirtv-three years. Ancus Martins, of Sabine extraction, was elected king in his place. lie was, bv his mother, 2;randsoii to Nunia; and partook somewhat of his disposition. He bent all his aiteniiou to the ♦■evival of the religious observances of his ancestor; but the Latins obliged him to take up arms. The Romans were victorious, and took several of the enemy's towns, transporting the inhabitants to Rome, of which it became necessary to enlarge the bounds beyond the Aventine Mount. Ancus pushed his conquests along the banks of the Tiber, to its mouth, where he built the city and [)ori of Ostia. He fortified a small ennnence opposite to Rome, on the '.vestern b^ide of the Tiber, which was called Janiculum, and communicated with the city- by a bridge, which the priests iiad the charge of supporting and repairing; and thence they are said to have derived their name of Pontiftces.* Ancus died after a reign of twenty-four years. During his time, Lucius Tarquinius, surnamed PnVr».f, a native of Tarqninii m Etruria, and son of a rich citizen of Corinth, had come to Rome. He was a man of great address, and gained the favor both of the king and people; so that when the ihrcMie became vacant, he was chosen the successor of Ancus ; a proof that the throne was considered as elective ; for Ancus Martins had left two sons. The senate, as first constituted bv Romulus, consisted, as we liave seen, of one hundred members. To this original number, from whom alone the jjatrician familii^s claimed their descent, Romulus afterwards added anothiM" hundred. Tarquiniiis, who owed his election to the favor of some of the principal citizens, rewarded their services by adding a hundred new members to the senate, chosen from the plebeian order. f It remained at the number of 300 for several centm-ies, down to the period of the * Conlompnrnry svilli Anriis Martins wtrc nraro, llio Allifiiinn loijislator ; Perian(l(>r, tyrant of Corinlli ; and Nal>op(ila.ssar, kinij of HaliNlon, fatluT to Nebiicliadiiezzar. t Tliese now srnators wero torinod PatrfS tninorum rtntium : but this dm tinclion was lost in process of time, and all wore ri'jjardfd as i-(jual in {wint ot rank. 296 UNIVKRSAr, history. [liOOK III Gracclii, wlicii ii was enlarged to GOO. I .slialf li;ive occasion afterwards to treat more particularly of the constitution of this body. Rome was now gradually ad\ancing in pf)|)Mlation and powei ; but her progress was not so rapid as to alarm the other states of Italy. In tiic time of the elder Tarqnin there were frequent wars with the Sabines, Latins, and Etruscans, which generally termi- nated to the advantage* of the Romans ; but the vanquished nations were always very speedily in a condition to renew hostili- ties. The city itself was increasing very much in extent and magnifi- cence. Tarquin caused the walls to be built of hewn stone ; he surrounded the forum with a covered corridore or arcades of pil- lars ; he built the Circus Maximus, or Hipjiodrome, for the cele- bration of public games, for races and athletic exercises. This building was situated between the Aventine and Palatine hills. It was enlarged and embellished at different times; and in the age of the elder Pliny, was capable of containing 200,000 spectators, all seated. Tarquinius Priscus likew^ise constructed the cloacce^ those amazing drains or common sewers, which remain to this day the wonder of all who view them. The cloaca maxima is sixteen feet in width, thirteen in depth, and of hewn stone arched over. Works of this kind would seem to lead to the belief of a prodigious increase of this city in size and population, when such immense structures were formed within the period of 150 years from its foundation. But these appearances certainly afford rational ground for a different conclusion or conjecture. The immensity of those cloacae, so unsuitable to such a city as we must suppose Rome to have been in the days of the elder Tarquin (for Livy acknowledges that they were judged unsuitable, from their large size, to the ex- tent of the city, even in his time,) naturally induces a suspicion, that those works were the remains of a more ancient and much more splendid city, on the ruins of which the followers of Romulus had chosen to settle. The like we know to have taken place in different parts of Asia, where several of the greatest cities of an- tiquity, after they had gone to decay, and been for ages desolate and uninhabited, iiave revived after a period of many centuries, and from villages grafted on their ruins, have become pretty con siderable towns, though far inferior to their ancient size and mag uificence. Were we here to offer a conjecture, it would be, that the foundation of Rome is to be carried back many ages beyond the commonly received era, and that this city had ancientlv been the residence of a part of that great and polished nation, the Etruscans. Tarquin, during some of his wars, had vowed to erect a temple to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva ; but he lived only to see the work begun. In disjging for the foundation of this structure, on the top of the Tarpcian hill, the skull of a man was found; — a very '-"■ ".] SERVIUS TUI.LIUS. 2D7 ordinary occurrence, but which the augurs declared to be a presage that Rome was one day to become the head, or mistress of tiie universe. Tlie new temple was from this incident called CapilO' Hum. If the anecdote is true, it shows how cafly the Romans entertained views of empire and dominion. Tarquin had adopted a young man, Servius, the son of a female captive, and had given him his daughter in n»arriage. lie was a youth of talents, and soon gained the esteem both of the senators and j)eople ; so that there was every j)rospect of his succeeding to the throne upon the death of his father-in-law. Two sons of Ancus Martins were yet alive, who naturally looked likewise to- wards that dignity, to wiiich they endeavored to j)ave the way by assassinating Tarquinius Priscus. This treasonable act they perpetrated in the thirty-cigiiih year of his reign ; but their crime did not meet widi the reward of success.* CHAPTER II. Servius Tli.i.us, sixth Kin^ of Ilnmc — His Political Talnits — Artful division o the People into Classes and Centuries — The Census — Lustrum — Tarquiniu* Superbus — Cud of tlie Reiril jTovernnient — Reflections (in this Period — Con- Btituiion of the Senate — Narrow Territory of tiie Stale — Exaj^jjeralod Account* of its Military Force — Uncertainty of its Early History. Servius Tullius had very naturally cherished the anibitious do- sign of mounting the throne, upon the death of his faihcr-in-law. On that event, he thought it prudent to em|)loy some artifice. He gave out, that the king, though dangerously wounded, was still alive, and had empowered him, in the meaiuime, to administer the government, and to bring to punishment his assassins. He |)ro- cured, accordingly, a sentence of death to be pronounced on the sons of Ancus ; but they escaped their fate by Hying from Rome, and seeking an asylum among the Volscians. Servius, thus rid of his competitors, proclaimed the king's dcadi, and found no obsta- cle to his elevation to the vacant dignity. « • In the tinio of the rider Tarquin, NVbiichadnorzar m.nle the conq«f«t of Jerusalein, and carried the Jews into caplivily. Sidi>n, in the same pori..d. \vu cniployed in new modelling the constitution, and giving laws to llio rrj)uljlic of Athens. vol.. I. 33 ;!98 univp:rsal msTouy. [book hi As tlie succession of Servius had wanted all the iisnal lormali* ties, there having hcen no regular election by the people, nor any inaiigmaiion l)y llio usual consulialion of the auspices, the new sovereign wisely bent his whole attention to iugraiiating himself with his subjects by every method that could procure popularity. He j)aid the debts of the poorer citizens by dividing among thcni such lands as were his own properly, and others of which they had been illegally deprived by the richer citizens. He adorned the city with useful edifices ; he was successful in the wars carried on with the neighboring nations; and the people, pleased with the moderation he showed in the exercise of power, soon forgot his usurpation. It is remarked by Montesquieu, as one cause of the rap'd advancement of Rome in the first ages of her state, that all her kings were great men. Servius Tullius was a prince possessed of superior political abilities. There is nothing more worthy of atten- tion than the measures which he took for the reformation of those abuses which had gradually arisen from the indeterminate nature of the Roman constitution, and particularly that artful and ingenious arrangement of the people into classes and centuries, by which he contrived to throw the whole power of the state into the hands of the superior order of citizens, without injury or offence to a numerous populace, whose happiness is best consulted by removing them from all actual concern in the machine of government. Of this arrangement it is necessary for the proper intelligence of the revolutions of the Roman commonwealth that a particular account should here be given. From the time that the Romans had associated the Sabine? and the peo|)!e of Alba to the rights of citizens, the urban and the rustic tribes were composed of three distinct nations, each of which had an equal share in the government. Each tribe being divided into ten curict, and e'ach curia having an equal vote in the comitia or public assemblies, as every individual had in his curia^ all questions were determined by the majority of the suffrages of indi- viduals. There was no preeminence or distinction between the ciiricBj and the order in which they gave their votes was determined by lot. This was a very equitable and reasonable arrangement so long as there were few distinctions among the citizens, and no great inequality of fortunes. But when riches came to be unequally distributed, it was easy to foresee numberless inconveniences from this equality of power. The indigent or the worthless would C(Hirt every revolution which gave them a chance of bettering their fortunes ; and the rich had an easy road to the gratification of the most dangerous ambition by purchasing with bribes the votes of the poor. One grievance, likewise, which was very severely felt under the former constitution, was, that all taxes were paid by the head, en. IJ.j SERVIUS TUI.LIUS. 299 without regard to the unequal wealth of individuals. Tliis im- politic and unjust distribution, of which tiie poor had the highesl reason to complain, furnished Servius with an excellent pretence for effecting that reformation which he meditated. He undertook to remove easily the poorer citizens from all share in the govern- ment, by exempting them from all public burdens, and making these fall solely on the ricli. After explaining to the people at large the necessity as well as the justice of regulating tlie taxes and contributions of individuals according to their measure of wealth, he required, by a public edict, that each citizen should declare, upon oath, his name, hia dwelling, the number of his children, their age, and the value of his whole property, under the penalty of having his goods con- fiscated, being publicly scourged, and sold for a slave. After this nuneration, which was called census, Servius divided the whole body of the citizens, without distinction of rank, birth, or nation, into four tribes, named, from the quarters where they dwelt, Palnline, Suburran, Collatine and Esquiline. These comprehended only such as dwelt within the city. He formed other Irlhcs of such as enjoyed the privilege of Roman citizens, but liveil witliout the walls, or in the country. Of these the number is uncertain, some authors making the rustic tribes amount to fifteen, others to seventeen, and others again to twenty-six. The number probably varied, according as the Romans extended their frontier. These rustic tribes are frequently mentioned in the Roman history. It is only necessary to remark at present, that in early times it was held more honorable to be included in those of the city; but this distinction did not always continue. Besides this local division from the places where the diirerent citizens had their dwelling-houses, Servius divided the whole body of the people into six classes, and each class into several centuries ; but these classes did not each contain the same number ol cen- turies. It is to be observed that a century was so termed, not as in Itself consisting of one hundred men, but as being obliged to furnish and to maintain that number of soldiers for the service of the state, in time of war. In the first class there were no less than ninety-eight centuri(>s. These were the richest citizens ; such as were worth at least 100 mimv, about 300/. sterling. The second class consisted of twenty-two centuries, and compri'hcnded such as were worth 75 inintt, about 225/. sterling. The third class contained twenty centuries, of such as were worth 50 mind.. or 150/. sterling. The fourth, of twenty-two centuries, or such as were worth half lluit sum ; and in the fifth were diirty centu- ries, of those worth 12 miniv, or Ml. sterling. The last class, though the most numerous of the whole, formed but a single century ; and under this cla-;s were comprehended all the poor citizens Thus the whol(3 body of th'- R(^man people was :livided bto one hundred and ninety -three centuries — or portions of cili 300 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [bOOK III zcns so termed, as furnisliing and supporting each one luindrec soldiers in lime of war. The last class, the poor citizens, were exempted from all taxes and public burdens ; they were called Ciipitc Ccnsi^ as only making up a number ; or were sometimes termed Prolelarii^ as contributing to the use of the state only by raising progeny. The other classes were rated for their propor- tions of the public taxes, at so much for each century. The military centuries of the different classes formed separate bodies of distinct rank ; those of the first class being the highest, and those of the last the lowest ; they were distinguished likewise by the arms they bore. The one-half of each century of soldiers, namely, those above forty-five years of age, were reserved for the jirotection of the city. It was very evident that the poorer citizens had no reason to complain of this new establishment, which exempted the greater part from all taxes, and proportioned the burdens of the rest to their share of wealth ; but there was something necessary to in- demnify and conciliate the rich. For this purpose, Servius ordain- ed fiiat in future the people should be assembled and give their votes by centuries ; the first class, consisting of ninety-eight centu- ries, always having the precedence in voting. Such was the ar- rangement of the Comitia Centuriata^ in which, henceforward, the chief magistrates were elected, the laws framed, peace and war resolved on, and, in a word, in which the supreme power of the state was vested. The Comitia Curiata, where the people were assembled by Curice^ were now held only for the election of some of the priests, and a few of the inferior magistrates. The Comitia were held in the Campus J\Iartius, without the city. The peo- ple walked thither preceded by their officers and insignia, in all the order of a military procession, but without arms. The king alone had the power of calling these assemblies, after consulting the auspices. As in the Comitia Centuriata all the centuries, or the whole body of the people, were called to the assembly, the whole of the citizens seemed to have an equal share in the public deliberations. Yet this was far from being the case. The poorer classes came necessarily to be deprived of all influence in the public measures: for as there were in all the six classes one hundred and nincty-diree centuries, and the first class consisted of no less than r.inety-eight of liiese, who always s;ave their votes first, if these were of one mind, which generally happened in important questions, the suf- frages of the rest were of no avail, and were not asked. If the first class was not unanimous, the second came to have a vote ; but there was very rarely any opportunity for the inferior classes to exercise their right of suffrage. Thus the whole power of the state was ar; fully removed from the body of the people at large to the richer classes ; and such was the ingenuity of this policy, that all were pleased with it. The rich were willing to pay for their CH. II ] TARQUl>f THE rUOUD. ^01 influence in the state, and the poor were glad to exchange autht)rit\ for immunities. 'J'hey were satisfied wiih the appearance of con- sequence which they enjoyed by being called to the Comitia; and it was not till ambitious men, to use them as instruments for their own designs, rendered them jealous of their situation, tha? they began to express any discontent. The Census was concluded by a ceremony called Lustrum, or an expiation. The king presided at the sacrifice of a bull, a ram, and a hog, which were first led three times round the Camj)U3 Martins. Hence the sacrifice was called Suoi-etaurilia, or some- times Taurilia. It was performed every Jive years, and thence that period was termed Lustrum. Religion had been the earliest bond of union among the states of Greece. Temples had been erected at the common charge of the different republics, which accustomed them to consider them- selves as one nation. After this model Servius underfook to unite the states of Latium. In order that they migiit regard Rome as a metropolis, he persuaded them to build at their common charges a magnificent temple to Diana on the Aventine Mount, and to repair thither once a year to perform sacrifice. Thus the ■Romans contracted a strict alliance with the Latian states, which mainly contributed to increase their power. Servius was a genuine and enlightened patriot. In all the changes which he effected in the constitution of the state, he had no other end than the public good. Of the disinterested nature of his conduct he had prepared to give the most eflectual demonstration, by resigning the crown and returning to the condition of a private citizen, when, to the regret of his subjects, he fell a victim to the most atrocious treason. His infamous daughter, Tullia, married to Tarquinius, the grandson of Priscus, conspired with her husband to dethrone and put to death her father; and this excellent prince was assas- sinated, after a reign of forty-four years. Tarquinius had gained the throne by the foulest of crimes, and he resolved to secure himself in it by violence. He acquired h'om his manners the surname of Supcrbus., pride being the usual attend- ant of tyranny and cruelty. JNIontesquieu has attempted to vindi- cate the character of this tyrant, and even to eulogize his virtues, as Lord Orford has displayed his talents m a vindication of our English Tarquin, Richard III., and both with nearly the same success. yVc may admire the ingenuity of the advocate who tries his powers in such arduous attemjits, but we cannot judge them entitled to praise. Let the man of ingonuiiy stand forth as theciiampion of virtue, which too often sufl'ers from the envonomed tooth of envy and detraction. In this benevolent ollice he will find abundant scope and exercise for his talents: but to lessen the criminality of the avowedly vicious — to exculpate from one or from a few slight ofienccs where the blackest crimes have deservedly consigned a character to infamy — in such attempts there is murit 302 UNIVKKSAI. IIISTOHY. [iJOOK Ml (Icmoiit; for tlio salutary liorror of vice is tlius weakened and diminished, and virtue herself is defrauded by lessening the value of her just reward. The government of Tarquinius was regulated by principles totally ojjposite to those of his predecessor. lie was in every sense a despot. With considerable military talents, he was suc- cessful in his wars against the Volsci and Sabines, the Latins of Gabi', and other enemies of the Roman state; and he used these conquests to ingratiate himself with the soldiery, to wluin he allowed free scope to ravage and plunder in the course of hostili- ties; but the daily encroachments which he made on the liberties of all ranks in the state, and the extreme severity and cruelty he displayed iit support of an arbitrary control, soon rendered him the object of universal detestation. The more powerful of the citizens, who, from their influence with the people, excited the fears and jealousy of the tyrant, were on various pretences arraigned and put to death. Others, against whom there was no pretext for a judicial accusation, were privately assassinated. Thus he put to death the father and the brother of Lucius Junius, two of the most respectable of the citizens. Lucius himself, to escape a similar fate, counterfeited fatuity, and thence acquired the denomi- nation of Brutus. This most sanguinary tyrant, whose enormous offences daily called for vengence from an injured people, was yet suffered to reign for twenty-four years, and was at length punished for a crime which was not his own. His son Sextus, equally lawless and flagitious, had committed a rape on' Lucretia, the wife of Colla- tinus, and the injured matron, unable to survive her dishonor, stabbed herself in the presence of her h.usband and kindred. Brutus, a witness to this shocking scene, drew the dagger from her breast, and swore by the eternal gods to be the avenger of her death — an oath immediately taken by all who were present. The dead body of the violated Lucretia was brought into the forum, and Brutus, throwing off his assumed disguise of insanity, appeared the passionate advocate of a just revenge, and the ani- mated orator in the cause of liberty against tyrannical oppression The people were roused in a moment, and were prompt and unanimous in their procedure. Tarquinius was at this time absent from the city, engaged in a war with the Rutulians. The senate was assembled, and pronounced a decree which banished for ever the tyrant, and at the same time utterly abolished the name and office of king. This decree was immediately confirmed by the people in the Comitia, who at the same time added to it a tremen- dous sanction, devoting to the infernal gods every Roman who should by word or deed endeavor to counteract or invalidate it. Such was the end of the regal government at Rome, which had subsisted for 244 years. On this first period of the Roman history I shall here offer a few reflections CH. II "] EARLY GOVERNMENT OF ROME 303 The constitution of the Roman government was at first nomin- ally monarchical; but in fact the kings of Rome seem to have enjoyed but a very moderate share of those powers wliich ordi- narily attend the monarchical government. We liave seen that the regal dignity was elective, and that the choice resided in the people. It was the senate who most frequently proj)osed the laws, but it was the people in their Comiiia who ratified them; nor could the king, without the consent of the people, proclaim war or peace. These rights of the people we find acknowled^ml by the peo])le without dispute; nor does it appear, till the reign of the last Tarquin, that any attempts were made, upon the [)arl of the throne, to extend the monarchical authority so limited and restrained. A constitution thus attempered is not naturally the result of the first union of a savage tribe; and hence has arisen the idea of ex- traordinary political abilities in the founder of this monarchy, Romulus, to whom several writers have chosen to attribute the whole formation of a system which it is more reasonable to believe was the slow growth of time and of experience. Willi these authors, no lawgiver is supposed to have ever proceeded uj)on a more extensive acquaintance with the nature of the political estab- lishments of different stales, or a juster estimate of their merits and defects, than Romulus, a youth of eighteen, in that system of regulations which he laid down for those rude shepherds or rob- bers whom he is said to have assembled and formed into a com- munity. These romantic notions have, I believe, originated in a great measure from an implicit reliance on the account of the origin of the Roman state given by Dionysius of Ilalicarnassus, whose work, however ingenious, and in many respects estimable, is by no means to be relied on as a sure authority in tracing the early history of Rome, which he himself confesses that he has founded chicHy upon ancient fables, treated wiih neglect or passed over by other writers. Indeed the fables which he relates carry (heir own confutation along with them ; for what fiction can be more absurd and incredible than to suppose an ignorant and rude youth, (he leader of a gang of banditti, or the chief of a troop of snep- herds, immediately after he had reared the (urf walls of his pro- jected city, calling together his followers, and delivering a labored and methodical oration on the natiu'c of the different kinds of government, such as he had heard existed in Greece and other nations, desiring his hearers seriously to weigh the advantases and H'^.fects of those different political constitutions, and modesdy ron- cnidiiig with a declaration that he is ready to accede with cheer- Ailness to whatever form they, in their aggregate wisdom, may decree.'' On this absurd fiction Dionysius rears (he structure of a finely attempered constitution, all at once framed and adopted by 4ii3 troop of barbarians; a beautiful system, judiciously blending 301 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. I HOOK III inoiuucliy, aristocracy, and deinorracy. Dionysius, liowever, has, with siiii^iilar iiijudicioiisness, di.scroditofi his own authority, hy inakiiij;; a foolish paiade of tiic motives whifh inthiced him to com- pile his history. lie owns that his chief ohjcct was to render his work a pleasing and po))ular composition; something that might flatter the pride of the Ronians, and inspire his own countrymen, the Greeks, with a high idea of the dignity of their concjuerors. "The Greeks," says hn, " deceived hy vulgar report, imagined that the founders of Rome were barbarians, and vagabonds without house or home, and those too the slaves and de|)endcnls of their iCader. To eflace these impressions from the minds of my coun- trymen, and engage them to eniertam more just notions, so as not to repine at being subject to a people who, from superiority of merit, have a natural riglit to the dominion over all others, I under- take this work. Let them cease to accuse fortune of this disj)cn- sation, since it is agreeable to an eternal law of nature that the strong should be the rulers of the weak. My countrymen will now learn from history that Rome had scarcely sprung into exist- ence when she began to produce niyriads of men, than whom no state, either Grecian or barbarian, ever reared more pious, more lust, more temperate, more brave, or more skilful in war. — But these wonderful men, (continues he,) are unknown to the Greeks from the want of an historian worthy to record their merits."* It will be readily allowed that a preface of this nature is not fitted to increase our opinion either of the truth, the candor, or even the judgment of the historian. To return: — The notions, therefore, which some modern writers, relying on the authority of Dionysius, have adopted, of the won- derful political talents of Romulus, and that judicious temperament he. is supposed to have made between the power of the sovereign, the authority of the senate, and the rights of the people, seem to he little else than a chimaera. The first political institutions of the Roman state were, like those of every other, simple and inartificial ; suited to the immediate wr^nts, and corresponding to the exigencies of a rude tribe, first forming itself into a regular community ; but of whom, individual members had probably been the exiles or fugitives from a state enjoying some degree of civili- sation, and subject to laws and institutions, which they were thus enabled to impart to the new society they had agreed to form, and of which they had chosen Romulus to be the chief, or sove- reign. The fabric of the Roman government, such as we find it within the period of any history we can deem authentic, was, like every other, the gradual result of circumstances, the fruit of time and of political emergency. The earlv constitution of the Roman senate has c:iven occasion Dionys. Hal., Ant. Rom., lib i. CH. II.] EARLY GOVKUNMENT OF KOME. 30,5 to much learned disquisition. The most judicious wrilcrs have candidly confessed, that, with regard to the original mode of elect- ing its members, they pretend to nothing more than conjecture; as the ancient authors have been sparing in their information, ex- tremely obscure, and often contradictory in their accounts. The most probable opinion seems to be that of the Abbe Vertot — that, during the regal government, the kings had the sole right of nomi- nating the senators; that the consuls succeeded them in this power; and that, when these magistrates became too much engaged in war to attend to domestic policy, that privilege devolved upon the censors. The senators were, at first, always chosen out of the order of the patricians ; that is, out of those families descended from the first Centum Patres who are supposed to have been named by Romulus. But afterwards, the right of election to that dignity became common to the i)cople and was among the first of those privileges to which they obtained an equal title with the patricians. The authority of the senate, in the first ages of the commonwealth, was very extensive. No assembly of the people could be held but in consequence of their decree ; nor could such assembly take any matter under consideration that had not first oeen debated in the senate^ It was even necessary, in order to give the Plebiscita^ or decrees of the people, any efTect, that they should be confirmed by a second decree of the senate ; and hence, with ap])arent justice, the government of the Romans, during the earlier times of the Republic, has been termed rather an ar'L^tocracy than a democracy. From this exorbitant power of the senate the first diminutions were made by the tribunes of the people, as we shall soon see ; but this was not without a violent and lasting struggle on the part of the senate to maintain what had been their original rights : those privileges, however, which remained always in the senate, and which the jieople never pretended to call in (piestion, were very extensive. Tlie senate always continued to have the direction of every thing that regarded religion : they had the cu-^tody of the public treasure, and the absolute disposal of it : they gave audience to ambassadors, decided the fate of vanquished nations, dis|)osed of the governments of the provinces, and took cognisance, by appeal, of ail crimes committed throughoui the empire. In one particular, upon great emergencies, their authority was truly supreme and despotical. In times of imminent danger, the senate issued its decree. Dent operam Consules, ne quid Respubllcd drlrimenli capiat; a decree which gave to these chief magistrates a supreme and unlimited power for the time, inilependent both of the senate which conferred it, and of the people. Such were the acknow- ledged powers of the Roman senate through the whole period of the commonwealth. It was, in fact, a |)erpetual council, whose province it was to suj)erintend all the magistrates of the stale, and VOL. I. 39 ^06 tiMVKUS.M, IIISTOKV. [lIOOK III (o watch over the snfL-ty of llu.* rcpuhlif. Yd in ilio riK)ro arl- vancc'd tiiiK's of llie commoiiwcaliii, llic senate always made a show of ackiiowlcdi^ing the last, or exooiiiive' power to be lodged in the people ; Scnalus censxiil, popnlus jv.ssil: although this may fairly he supposed to l)e nothing inore than a piece of afTectcd moderation : since we know that they retained the full exercise of those powers we have mentioned, even after all the encroachments of the people, down to the times of the Gracchi, (a. u. c. 020,) when their authority suffered, indeed, a great abridgment. Towards the end of the regal government, the territory belong- ing to the Roman state was extremely limited. It is said to have been only forty miles in length and thirty in breadth. The pro- gress of the Romans in extending their frontier was at first ex- tremely slow. Time was requisite for subduing nations as warlike as themselves : and the methods both of making conquests and preserving them were little known. This was the reason why the first care of the Romans, most wisely, was to strengthen them- selves in their possessions. It would have weakened them too much had they early attempted to extend their boundaries. The only use they yet made of their victories was to naturalize the inhabitants of some of the conquered states, and thus increase their po[)ulation. By this wise forbearance they became a powerful state, though within a narrow territory; because their strength was always superior to their enterprises. They derived, likewise, from the small extent of their lands, a spirit of moderation and frugality. It was thus they paved the way for extending their limits afterwards with advantage ; and this judicious policy of choosing at first to possess rather too small than too extensive a territory, laid the solid ibunrlation of their future greatness. But with regard to the real forces or strength both of the Romans and of their rival states in those early times, we are, on the whole, extremely ignorant. The Roman historians appear to have exag- gerated greatly in these particulars. We find in those autiiors, that, notwithstanding very bloody engagements, the Romans, as well as their enemies — the Latins, Sabines, ^qui, and Volsci — take the field next campaign with armies still more numerous than before. Yet the cities and territories which furnished those armies were extremely inconsiderable. The country to which ihey be- longed was not remarkable for its fertility; and in such a state of j)erpctual warfare, the inhabitants, constantly intent on ravaging and pillaging, could not possibly cultivate it to advantage. We have every reason, therefore, to believe that the numbers of those armies said to have been brought into the field are greatly exaggerated. The frequent, and indeed incessant wars between those neigh- boring nations and the Roman state during the early periods — continually renewed, in spite of repeated treaties, and many signal, and apparently decisive victories — are subjects of just surjirise M. Montesquieu has assigned a very ingenious cause for this dis- CII. 11. "1 EARLY GOVERNMENT OF ROME. 307 regard of treaties. It was a maxim among tlie slates of Italy, that treaties or conventions made with one king or chief magis- trate had no binding oitligation iijion his successor. This, says he, was a sort of law of nations among them. It were to f>e wished that ingenious writer had given some special authority for this very singular fact, instead of contenting himself with saying m general that it appears throughout the history of the kings of Rome. In the subsequent periods of the Roman history, hostilities more generally commenced upon the part of the Romans than on that of their neighbors; of which there seems to have been this sim- ple cause, that the chief magistrates, the consuls, being changed every year, it was natur;:! for every magistrate to endeavor to signalize himself as much as he could during the short period o( his administration. Hence the consuls were always persuading the senate to some new military enterprise; and that body soon became glad of a pretext which, by employing the people in an occupation they were fond of, prevented ail intestine disquiets and mutinies. That this continual engagement in war, and consequent chararteristical military spirit of tlie Romans, was owing to nothing else than their situation, is rendered the more probable from this fact, that, excepting a small circle of the states immediately around and in their vicinity, which necessarily contracted the same military spirit, all the other nations of Italy were indolent, voluptuous, and inactive. The regal government among the Romans subsisted for 24-1 years, and during all that time only seven kings are said to have reigned. This statement is extraordinary; and the more so when we consider that there was no hereditary succession, where some- times an infant succeeds to an old man; but each king was ad- vanced in life when he ascended the throne; that several of them died a violent death, and that the last of them lived thirteen years after his expulsion. These are circumstances which have suggest- ed considerable doubt with regard to this period of the Roman (listury; and it must be acknowled:cn allowed," says he, "to antiquity to mix what is human or natural with the divine or supernatural, and thus to magnify or exalt the origin of cmpir(s; hut on such traditions I lay little stress; and what weight or authority may be given to them I shall not here stop to consider." * From such and similar considerations, some critics have gone so far as to reject as entirely fabulous the whole history of those first five hundred years of the Roman story: but this is to push the skeptical spirit greatly too far. There is, indeed, a mist of doubt hanging over the origin of this great people, as over that of most of the anc'ent nations: and it is the part of sober and dis- criminating judgment to separate what has the probability of authenticity from what is palj)ably fabulous, and thus to form for itself a rational creed, even with regard to those ages where the materials of history are most deficient. It is not unreasonable to conceive that the great outlines of the revolutions and fortune of nations, in remote periods of time, may be preserved for many centuries by tradition alone, though extremely natural that, in this traditionary record, the truth may undergo a liberal intermixture of fable and romance. CHAPTER III. Intorre^num — Consuls appointed vrith sovereign power — Conspiracy against tlie new Government — Patriotism of Brutus — Valerian Law — War with Por- sena — Popular disturbances — Debts of the Poor — A Dictator appointed — Impolitic conduct of the Patricians — Their Concessions — Tribunes of the People created — Change in the Constitution — Reflections on. Tarquinius Superbus had trampled on all the constitutional restraints, and on all the regulations of the preceding sovereigns. He had never assembled the senate, nor called together the people * Datur hcDC venia antiquitati, ut niiscendo humana divinis, primordia urbi um augustiora facial. — Sed ha^c et his siniilia, utcvinque animadversa aut nesti mata erunt, liaud equidem in magno ponam discriinine — Liv. Hist., lib. i Proem CH. Ill J THE CONSULS. 30S' in die Comitia. He is even said to have destroyed or broken the tablets on which tiie laws were written, in order to efface all remembrance of them. It was necessary, therefore, after his ex- pulsion, that new tablets should be franicd, and these, we may presume, were much the same with the former. An interregnum took place for some time, and during; this time the supreme power was lodged by the senate in the hands of Lu- cretius. Brutus having in his possession some writings ol Seivius Tullius, containing, as it is said, the plan of a republican govern- ment, these were read to the senate and people, and approved ol. The regal government had become completely odious, and it was agreed to commit the supreme authority to two magistrates, to be annually elected by the people out of the order of the j)atricians. To these they gave the name of Consules; a modest title, says the Abbe de Verlot, which gave to understand that these magis- trates were rather the counsellors of the rej)ublic than its sovereigns, and that the only point which they ought to have in view was its preservation and glory. But, in fact, the authority of the consuls differed scarcely any thing from that of the kings. They had the chief administration of justice, the absolute disposal of the public money, the power of convoking the senate, and assembling the people, of raising troops, naming all the officers, and the right of making j)eace, war, and alliance; in short, unless that their au- thority was limited to a year, they were in every respect kings. The consuls wore the purple robe, they had the srlla curulii, or ivory chair of state, and each of them was attended by twelve lictors armed with the fasces, the symbols of their power of life and death. The two first consuls were Brutus and Collatinus, the husband of Lucretia. These magistrates, we have said, were elected out of the body of the patricians; an exclusive privilege which, in fact, rendered the constitution purely aristocratical. But the jealousy of the people was not yet alarmed; and they were so well pleased to be ireed from the despotic power of a single tyrant, that it d d not occur to ihern that they had any thing to dread from a multitude of tyrants. On this change of the government, solemn sacrifices were per- formed, the ciiy was purified by an expiation or lustrum, and the peojile renewed tluMr oaih aeainst the name and oflice of king. Tarcpiin was at this time in Etruiia, where he prevailed on two of the most powerful cities, V'eii and Tanpiinii, to espouse his cause. These states sent ambassadors to Rome with a formal recpii^iiion, that the exiled prince might be allowed to return and give an account of his conduct; btit as it must have been foreseen that such a proposal could meet with no regard, the true purpose of the embassy was to secure a party in the interest of Tarcpiin, who might cooperate in a meditated attempt to rcNlore him to power; and this purpose they gained by a liberal employ menl of bnbc* 310 UNIVERSAL IIISTOKV. [liOOk 111 and |)romiscs. The conspiracy, however, was (letocted; and il was found thai among tlie chief persons concerned were the two sons of Brutus, and the nephews of Collaiinus. An example was now exhihited, severely virtuous indeed, hut which the necessity of circunistantes recpjired and justified. Brutus himself sat in judguuint u|)oii his two sons, and condemned them to be beheaded, iiimself witnessing their execution. Exuil pulrcm ul consulem ai^eret, orbusque vivere, quam publicfc vindicUc devesse maluil.* Such is the reflection of Valerius Maximus, but ti'.at of Livy is more natural; he remarks that Brutus, resolute as he was in the performance of this severe duty, could not lay aside the (diaracter, nor suppress the feelings of a father. Quum inter omne tempus pater^ vuUmque el os ejus spcctncido csset, eminentc animo patrio, inter puhlicni pitnrc ministcrium.j Collaiinus had not streng'Ji to imitate that example, and his endeavor to avert the punishment of his nephews procured his own deposition and banishment. War was now the last resource of Tarquin; and, at the head of the armies of Veii and Tarquinii, he marched against the Ro- mans. He was met by the consuls Brutus and Publius Valerius, who, on the expulsion of Collatiiuis had been chosen in his room, and an engagement ensued, in which Brutus lost his life. The fate of the battle was doubtful; but the Romans claimed the victory, and Valerius was honored with a triumph, a ceremony hencefor- ward usually conferred on a victorious general after a decisive engagement. A higher honor was paid to the memory of Brutus, for whom the whole city wore mourning for ten months. So much was the ardor of liberty kept alive by the attempts of the exiled prince, and such the jealousy of the Romans, roused by the slightest intlications of an ambitious spirit in any of the citizens, that Valerius, notwithstanding the high favor he enjoyed on account of his public services, had, from a few circumstances apparently of the most trifling nature, almost lost his whole popularity. He had neglected, for some dme, to summon the comitia for the elec- tion of a new consul, and he had built a splendid dwelling for himself on the summit of the Palatine hill, which crmmandeda prospect of the whole city — strong symptoms, it was iliought, of the most dangerous ambition. Whether, in reality, he entertained such designs as were attributed to him, may well be doubted; but It is generally believed that a hint of his danger made him at once so zealous a patriot, and so strenuous a champion for the rights of the people, that he thence acquired the ambiguous sur- name of Poplicola. He pulled down his aspiring palace, and * " He sacrificed the feeling of a father to the oblitrations of chief magistrate, and preferred a childless old age to any failure of his duty to the state." t " While nil the time his looks betrayed the feelings of a father, the pure patriotism of his soul prevailed in the administration of public justice." CH. 111. J PORSE.NA. 31 I coiUenteci himself with a low mansion in an obscure (inarter ol' the cily. Whenever he appeared in pnhlic he ordered ihe consuhr fasces to be lowered before the })eople, and liie axes to be laid aside, which henceforth were borne by the lictors only without the walls of the city. He caused a law to be passed, which made it death for any citizen to aim at bein^ kint;; ; he refused to take custody of the money le\ ied for the expenses of war, and caused that charge to be conferred on two of the senators. But of all sacrifices to liberty, that which in fact most materially enlarged the power of the people was a new law, which j>crmitted any citizen who had been condemned to death by a magistrate, or even to banishment, or coporal punishment, to appeal to the pco pie; the sentence being suspended till their decision was 'given This law, which, from the name of its author was termed Vale- rian, struck most severely against the aristocracy ; and from this era we may date the commencemeilt of the democratic constitution of the Roman government, (a. u. c. 214. — b. c. olO.) For thirteen years after the expulsion of Tarquinius Superbns, the Romans were involved in continual wars upon his account. Of these the most remarkable was the war with Porscna, king of Etruria, who had taken arms in behalf of the exiled prince. The detail of diis war by the Roman usequences of violent measures, endeavored, by persuasion, to promote a good understanding between the orders. They labored to convince the tribunes that it had hitherto been the constant practice, and agreeable to the constitution of the republic, that every public measure should originate by a motion in the senate, and that till this body had given a decree, no business of state could be agitated in the assembly of the people. The tribunes did not acquiesce in these propositions: they contended that the authority of the people was cot'trdinate with that of tlw^ senate; and that — the Valerian law having ordained a ri-lit ol appeal to the people from the senate, and all magistrates— tlirt must, of course, possess the right •^f citing i)efore them any ciii/.eni VOL. I 41 322 UNIVKIISAL HISIOUV. [nOOK III who liad olfuncled. The afTair was of difllciilt decision, in the uncomplying teniper in which parties then stood It was, how- ever, ihds coniproniised for the present. Tlie tribunes agreed to make their complaint against Coriolanus in the senate, and that body consented, on their part, to refer the consideration of the cause back to the assembly of the people. This course, accord ingly, was adopted. The senate admitted the importance (if proved) of the charges j)referred to their body by the tribune?, and ordained Coriolanus to appear and answer in the assembly of the people. They were desirous, however, of procuring this assembly to be convoked by centuries; by which means they flattered themselves with an entire ascendant, which would ensure the acquittal of their member: but the people would not consent to it; the votes were called in the order of the tribes; and Corio- lanus was condemned to perpetual exile. lie now proposed to himself a |)lan of vengeance, in the last degree ignominious, and which no injuiies an individual can receive are suflicient to justify. He repaired to the camp of the Volscians, and offered his services to the determined enemies of his country. They w-ere accepted; and such was the consequence of his abili- ties as a general, that Rome, in the space of a few months, was reduced to extremity. The people now demanded that the senate should repeal their decree of banishment; but that body, with a laudable firmness, declared that they would grant no terms to a rebel while in arms against his sovereign state. The importunity of the populace, however, so far prevailed, that a deputation, con- sisting of five persons of consular dignity, and his own relations, was sent to propose terms of accommodation. Coriolanus haugh- tily answered, that he would never consent to treat of peace, till the Romans should restore whatever they possessed of the Vol- scian territory, and be allowed the space of thirty days to consider of ti)is proposition. At the end of that time he appeared again with his army under the walls of the city. The senate maintained an inflexible resistance to the demands of the traitor, and to the popular clamor. At length a band of Roman matrons, at the head of which was Veturia, the mother of Coriolanus, with his tvife and children, repaired to the camp of the enemv, and sud- .ienly presented themselves at the feet of Coriolanus. The severity of fiis nature was not proof against this last appeal. He consented 'o lay down his arms; he ordered his troops to retire; and thus Rome owed her safety to the tears of a woman. There are few historical events (so called) which give more room for skepticism than this story of Coriolanus. If we should admit that the resentment of his wrongs might have hurried a high-spirited Roman into a conduct so utterly disgraceful — and moreover so dangerous, whi'e his mother, his wife, and all hi:, kindred were hostages in the Iir.ids of his countrymen, — how can we believe 'ha: Rome, ever superior as we have seen ner to iho CH. IV] AGRARIAN I.AW. 323 petty states which were her enemies, should, during the whole time of this lengthened negotiation, have taken no efl'ective mea- sures of resistance or defence ; that we should neither find a Roman general nor a Roman army in the fielfl to check the tri- umphant pride of this traitor to his country ; that the Volscians — who, three years before, were so weakened by a pestilence, that Velitne, one of their most flourishing towns, would have beep entirely annihilated, but for the supply of a colony of Roman citizens — should have now become so powerful as to strike terror and dismay into the Roman state, and compel her to that mean act of supplication, to which, we are told, she owed her escape from destruction ? If there is any truth in a story so void of pro- bability, there is only one circumstance truly deserving of atten- tion — the striking contrast between the conduct of the senate and that of the people. The people — fluctuating in their opinions, and ever in extremes — the one day, in the height of exasperation against Coriolanus for an offence against themselves, condemn him to perpetual exile ; and the next, ignominiously entreat his for- giveness and deprecate his resentment. The senate — who, before his condemnation, alarmed at what they thought a stretch of power in the peojjle, would have done every thing to save him, yet, sen- tence being once ))assed, conscious that the honor of the republic was her most valuable possession, which no danger ought to com- pel its guardians to betray — could by no entreaties be swayed to make concessions to a rebel in arms against his country. AVhile such were the sentiments of her chief magistrates, Rome, weak and defenceless as we are told she was, continues still to command respect and admiration. Historians arc not agreed as to the fate of Coriolanus — a circum- stance which renders the whole of his history more siis|>irious. According to some authors, he was assassinated by the VoNrians, n revenge for his defection ; according to others, he languished out his days among them in melancholy obscurity. It has never been asserted seriously that he returned to Rome. The dissensions between the orders with which the Roman republic was destined to be for ever embroiled, were now rekindled from a new cause of controversy. This was an agrarian law, a measure proposed at first bv Cassius, one of the consuls, from motives of selfish ambition. He aimed at nothing less than supreme power ; and he proposed this measure of an ecpial partition of all the lands which had been at any time won from the enemy, as the most probable means of acquiring the favor of the people. But he was too precipitate ; his views were suspected, and the tribunes gave the alarm. They could not bear that pojMilar measures should be proposed by any but themselves ; they adopted the scheme of Cassius ; but persuaded the people that what was an iniere.<:ted measure upon his part, tliey were determined to prosecute for ihfl Dublic good 3'J4 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. ] BOOK III T'lO senate, jealous of the tribunes, and sufllcienlly aware ol the views of Cassius, were resolved themselves to preocenpy the ground. They passed a decree that an inquiry should he made as to those conquered lands which had at any time been adjudged to belong to the |)ublic ; that a part should be reserved for the com- mon pasturage of cattle, and that the rest should be distributed to such of the plebeians as had eidier no lands, or but a small propor- tion. Yet this was all a piece of artifice on the part of the higher orders. They had no mind that this decree should ever be carried into cfiect. They subjoined to it a clause that the consules desig- nnti., or those who were next year to enter upon that office, should name decemviri for making the necessary investigation and following forth the decree. This measure of an agrarian laio we shall observe, from this time forward, to be a source of domestic dissensions, down to the very end of the commonwealth. Cassius was the first proposer of it, and it cost him his life. His office of consul was no sooner at an end, than he was solemnly accused of aspiring at royalty ; and, by sentence of the popular assembly, he was thrown from the Tarpeian Rock, the usual punishment of treason. Soon after- wards, Menius, one of the tribunes, brought on the cons'ideratio5 of the law. He called on the consuls to nominate the decemviri , and on their refusal, he opposed the levies which the consuls had ordered to be made on account of a war with the Mqin and Volsci. The consuls adopted a very violent procedure : they quitted the city, and established their tribunal without the jurisdict)on of the tribunes. Thither they summoned the people to attend them, and to give up their names to be enrolled. They lefused to obey ; on w^hich the consuls ordered their lands to be ravaged, and their flocks carried off. This had its desired effect ; but so violent a measure was never again attempted. A more sure and less dangerous expedient was afterwards followed, which was, to divide the tribunes. One tribune could, by his veto^ oppose or suspend any decree ; but if another opposed him, the veto was of no effect. Icilius, one of the tribunes, having opposed the form ing of the levies, his four colleagues, gained over by the senate, took the opposite side ; and it was therefore agreed that the con- sideration of the agrarian law should be postponed till the termina- tion of the war. When that period arrived, the contest was again renewed The tribunes brought on the consideration of the law^ ; they de- manded why the last consuls had not named decemviri; and they even pretended to call them to account and to punish them for this omission. Genucius, a tribune, summoned the consuls of tl«> current year to execute the decree which had been so long neg lected. They refused, on pretence that a decree of the senate, when not executed by those consuls to whom it was directed, was held to be abroprated. Genucius then sun^moned -the consuls CH. IV. J VOLEUO. 885 of the preceding year to answer Tor their conduct, and vowed, as is said, that he would prosecute them to his latest breath. They took care that he should keep his word, for the next day he wu> found dead in his bed. The ])eople were made to regard this as a judgment of the gods, who thus ex|)resscd their disapprobaiiou of the schemes of this factious tribune ; and his colleagues were niimidated for some time f om prosecuting his views; not less, perhaps, from the a[)prehension of human than of divine vengeance. The consuls and senate, trusting to the effect of this example, assumed a more rigid audiority, and the levies were made wi:h severe exactness. Among those whom the consuls had enrolled as a common soldier, was a |)lebeian nanied Volcro, who, in a former cam[)aign, had been a cenlurion, and was esteemed a good ofiicer. He complained of the injustice done him in thus degra- ding him, and refused to oh(>y. The consuls ordered him to be scourged, from which sentence he appealed to the people. One of the consular lictors endeavoring to arrest him was beaten oil'; and the people, tumuliuously taking his part, broke the fasces and drove the consuls out of the foiiim. The senate was immedi- ately assembled, and ihe consuls demanded that Volero shoulil be thrown from the Tarpeian Rock. The plebeians, on the other hand, called for justice against the consuls for a breach of the Valerian law, in disregarding Volero 's a[)peal to the people ; and the contest lasted till the election of the annual magistrates, when Volero was chosen one of the tribunes. The person of a tribune was sacred, and that of a consul, when out of oflice, was not so ; but Volero did not choose to limit his vengeance to the two con- suls ; the whole senate was the object of his resentment, and he resolved to strike a blow which they should never recover. The election of the tribunes of the per)ple had hitherto been held in the comilia curiala. Volero urged that as these con)itia could not be summoned but by a decree of the senate, that body might, on various pretences, postpone or refuse to summon them ; that the previous ceremony of consulting the auspices was neces- sary, and these the priests, who were tiie augurs, could interpret jn any manner they chose ; and that, );vstiy, it was always held necessary that whatever was done in those assemblies should be confiinKMl by a decree of the senate. He represented all these formaiilies as being nothing else than restrictions imposed by the senate on the popular deliberations — and proposed that henceforth the magistrates of the people should be ciiosen in the comitia called by tribes, which were exempt from all tliosc restraints. The "senate, by ihrowing difhculties in the way, found means ir retard for some lime the passing of a law so fatal to their power but their o|)posilion was in the main inelTectual ; for it passed at last, ainj with this remarkable addition, that all c,'.irsiions, in wliirb the aHiiirs oi the people were agitated, shoidd bcncelo.-ward be debated ii. the con ilia tribv('x. 32r> UNIVKUSAL HISTORY. [nOOK 111 This famous law of Volero completed the change in the con- stitnlion of the Roman Reptiblic. The supreme authority from this time; may be considered as haviii purport i>*, that when ihr- mpitnl wna founded in hnnor of Jupiter, nil th« other {jods r(ins4nlin(i to r>-tire «nd abandon Iheir nj^ht lo the place, the L'od /Vrm/mw alone n I'lit-d and kept his |xi»l. The momi drawn IS, that what Jupiter himself could not remove, ■hould yield to no human will or power. 328 UNIVERSAL mSTOKV. [bOOK III (jueiice was, lliat llic j)coplo, regardless of the previous fonnality of a tlocree of the senate, passed the law of Tcrerilius in an assem- bly of ihe tribes. The senators protested against this as a most presumptuous and unconstitutional innovation. The law of Volero, t is true, which allowed all (juestions regarding the popular interest to be deliberated on in the comilia Iribula, seemed in effect to confer on the assembly of the people so held, the right of legis- lation ; but the exercise of such a right, immediately and originally in the people, had been hitherto without example. The patri- cians, too, might have urged with justice, that if they were not allowed to have the right of making laws to bind the plebeians without their consent, neither could the plebeians possess a similar right to bind the patricians. Influenced by such considerations, some young men of the patrician order, headed by Ceso Quiniius, the son of L. Quiniius Cincinnatus, burst in arms into the midst of the comitia, and beating down all before them, dispersed the assembly. For this offence Caeso was banished by a decree of the people. These intestine disorders, which persuaded the enemies of Rome of her general weakness, induced the Sabines to form a design of surprising and taking possession of the city. A body of 4000 men entered Rome during the night, seized upon the capitol, and invited all such citizens as were oppressed by the tyranny of theit superiors to join them and vindicate their freedom. A great pro- portion of the people actually deliberated on this proposal: so true it is that the factions of a stale never fail to extinguish the patriotic spirit ; thus developing the true spring of most popular convul sions, a selfish thirst of plunder to be gratified in the overthrow of all legal authority. The senate ordered the people to arms ; and the tribunes countermanded that order, declaring that, unless the consuls should immediately agree to the nomination of commis- sioners for the laws, they were determined to submit without resistance to the dominion of the Sabines. Publius Valerius, one of the consuls, pledged himself to the people for the performance of this condition; and the people, now taking arms, attacked and cut to pieces the Sabine army. But Valerius unfortunately fell in the engagement, and his colleague, having come under no obliga- tion, refused to comply with the popular desire. A successor was chosen to Valerius in the consulate, L. Quintius Cincinnatus, a man of great resolution and intrepidity, who, though himself so indigent as to cultivate widi his own hands his paternal fields, and to be called from the plough to put on the robe of the consul, had yet the high spirit of an ancient patrician, which was ill disposed to brook the insolence of the popular magistrates, or acquiesce in the daily increasing pretensions of the inf(?rior order. Cincinnatus took a new method to bring the people to submis- sion. He declared to the soldiers — who were yet bound by their sacramen'um, or oath of enro ment — that he intended to carry on Cn. V.J CINCI.V.NATLS. JJJ«» ihe war against the iEf|i i and Volsci, and iliat, for t.iat purpose, they sl)OLikl winter unde; their tenis ; that he was deieriniiied not to return to Rome ii\ the expiration of his consulate, at w|ji( li lime he would nominate a dictator, to secure the continuance of good order and tranquillity. The people, who, in all their military expeditions, had nevei been above a few weeks at a time under arms, were ihundrrsiruck when they neard of a winter campaign. The relimpiishment of their nimilies, and the neglect of their lands, which must necessa- rily be followed by a famine, were considerations most seriously alarming. They now inveighed bitterly against their tribunes who had brought matters to this extremity, and even made a proposal to the senate, agreeing to drop the Terentian law altogether, pro- vided that body should |)revail on the consul lo dejiart from his pur- pose. On that condition, Cincinuatiis consented to postpone the war, and the consequence was, that during his consulate every thing was tranquil, and the ecpiity of his administration made the want of laws be for a time entirely forgotten. Two years afterwards, the republic owed her preservation to the same Cincinnatus. The yEqui had surrounded a consular army, and reduced it to extremity. Cincinnatus was chosen dictator : he defeated the enemy, and compelling them to lay down their arms, made their whole army pass naked under the yoke. In reward of this signal service he was honored with a triumph ; his son Ca^so was recalled from banishment, and ho abdicated his dictatorship within seventeen days. But this opposition to the strong will of the people proiiuced only a temporary obstruction to the force of a stream whose current was irresistible. It was the care of the tribunes perpetually to })resent to the minds of the populace some new object to be attained ; and they now proposed that such part of the ^Irenlint .J\ fount as remained unoccu|)icd by imlividnal proprietors should be distributed among the poorer citizens. The consuls havinij delayed to propose this matter in the senate, Icilius, one of the tribunes, sent his apparitor to summon the consuls to convoke that as>;embly for the purpose in view. The consids might have contemned this presum|)tuous summon^, and so n)ade the tribune sink nuiler the consequence of an abortive stretch of authority, which had no sup- port in es:al)lislied rigid or usage ; but they were imprudent enounh to cause tlieir lienors to strike the a|)|)aritor with his fasces. This was a violation of the sacred character and ollice of the tribune-.!. The lictor was arrested — the; senate met to allay the distiubance. It was a small matter that the peo|)le obtained their recpie-,! of ilio Aveniine Mount; but the serious and deepfelt ronsecpience of (his afl'air was, that from that moment the tribunes — they who were wont to sli at the door of the senate-house till called in by the consuls — now claimed and ac(|iiired a right of convoking lliiit assem- bl) at their pleasure. vol,. I. 42 330 UNIVERSAL HISTOKY. [bOOK III Tlie tribunes had tliis advantnj^o over all llic othoi magistrates, that tlicy could be continued in office as long as the people chose. Icilius had now been tribune for six successive years; when, em- boldened by repealed experiments of his power, he attempted to subject the consuls to the irihuiial of the people. A tumult having arisen on account of the levies, Icilius ordered the consuls to be carried to prison, for having seized some of the plebeians whom he wished to protect from enrolment. The patricians flew among the crowd, and drove back the tribunes and their attendants. Icilius hereupon accused the consuls of having committed sacrilege against the tribunes, and insisted that the senate should oblige them to appear before the people in the Com.tia, and submit to whatever penally the latter should deiMii ))roper to inflict. This bold enterprise might have succeeded, had it been possible to keep alive the same ardor with which the people seemed at first to be animated ; but reflection having time to oj^erate, the people stiL felt a degree of reverence for the first magistrates of the stale, which made ihem look upon this as a species of rebellion. Icilius very soon perceived this change in their disposition, and was pru- dent enough to make a merit of sacrificing his resentment to the public tranquillity. To support his power, which might have suffered from the defeat of this bold attempt, he resumed the sub- ject of the Terentian law, and insisted for an immediate nomination of decemvn-s. After some fruitless essays of opposition by the patricians, which, as usual, ended to their disadvantage, the senate was at length forced to acquiesce in the measure. Deputies are said to have been sent into Greece to obtain accurate information as to the constitutions of the several republics, and particularly to form a collection of the laws of Solon. These, it is said, returned after a year's absence ; and it was then agreed to create decemviri, to frame and digest such ordinances as they should judge most proper for the Roman cotnmonweallh.* It was thought neces- sary that these magistrates should, for one year, be invested with sovereign power ; during which time, all otlier magistracies, even the tribunate, which used to subsist during the dictatorship, should cease ; and that they alone should have the power of making peace ami war. They were to be restrained only in one article — that they should not abolish the sacred laws; that is, those which had been made in favor of the plebeians. Menenius, the consul, in order to create some obstacle to the conclusion of this important measure, proposed that the decemvirs should be named by the consuls of the succeeding year, and this •The tesliinonips for this einbnssy into Grpere are Livy and Dionysiiis of Halicarnrissus ; bill the silence of all ihe Greeit writers with reirtird to this remarkable deputation creates a suspicion of the fact being void of fiundation; nor is there any such respinblance betweeeii the laws of bolon and those of the Xll Tables as to countcifnce this popular story. tU. v.] DECEMVIRI CUOSF.N HOI beiiT^ agieed to, tlie patricians took care that ilio coii-iiils sliould be sucli as were believed to have no favorable ilispositioii towards the popular cause. Appius Claudius and Titus Gonucius, were elected consuls. But A|)piiis disappointed the ex|)eciations of his party; for, instead of op|)osing the creation of decemvirs, he soli cited that office. He offered, for himself and his colj.'ague, to renounce the consulship, and proposed, in order to remove all grievances, that the same laws should he enacted for |)atri(-ians and plebeians. The people now applauded Appius to the skies. The comitia were called by centuries, a circumstance which con- fined the office to the order of the patricians. Appius CFaiidius and his colleague were first nominated, and the remaining eight were, like them, senators and consular persons. The people ex- pected a great deal from the professions of Appius; and the senate was pleased in thinking that his ambition would find a strong restraint from the opposition of his colleagues. Tims, the. earnest desire of the peo|)le was, at length, cra'.ified by the creation of the decemviri. But ever impatient of their present situation, and prone to imagine advantages in every change, the populace seldom looks forward to the natural consecjuences of the innovations which they long for. We shall see how soon they began to reap the bitter fruits of obtaining their desire. It is somewhat difficult to account for the active part taken by the tri- bunes in the creation of this new magistracy; a dignity and power which was to supersede and extinguish their own. It is not im- probable, that the part which they took in this matter proceeiled from no other motive than the general policy of fomenting ani- mosities between the orders, which they found nmst frequently gave occasion to an extension of their own power and infiucnce; that they never seriously expected to obtiin their demand; and were, indeed, mortified at their own success. But what is most surprising is the cordial concurrence latterly shown, by both the orders, in vesting those new magistrates with such pleniiude of power, as fiirnished them with the means they actually made »ise of, to annihilate all authority but their own, and render their ofllce perpetual. The (Ucemvirs, in the first year of their magistracy, labored with much assiduity in the compilation of the laws. And when their work was completed, they divided these, at first into ten, and afterwards into hcelre tahl.'s. 'Of these Laws of the Twehe Ta- bles, of which the name is illustrious, it is necessary lo give some account, and of the sources from which it is probable they were compiled. ■ During the time of the regal government at Rome, we know very little of what was the state of the laws. In all piobnhiliiy, these were nothing else than a few regulations, called forth by the exigence of circumstances, and suggested by the particulw cases which nmc before the judicial tribunals. A large mass of 032 UNIVERSAL IlISTORV. [liOOK III rules ;nlglit thus bo nccutmilated; hut these, being framed on n« {general principles, would often, in their ap|)licatiou to new cases, be found to err against material justice. No application of reason or philosophy had ever been made to the discovery of legal prin- cipli's; for every rule was only the decision of an individual judge, according to what appeared just and erpiltable in the case before liini. It has been a question agitated between the partisans of the popular cause and the advocates for the extension of the pcM-ers of monarchy, whether the kings of Rome were absolute, both in their legislative and ministerial capacity; or whether, in order to ratify such laws as they had the right of suggesting and pro))osing, it was necessary to obtain the consent and sanction of the people. In a question, to which, from die uncertainty of all that regards the early history of the Romans, it is not possible to give a posi- tive answer, and where the opinions of historians are nothing more than their own conjectures, we may be allowed, like them, to rea- son according to what appears most probable. Since, therefore, it is a certain fact, that the regal dignity itself was elective, and that the choice lay in the people, it seems a natural presumption, that the people, acquiring and retaining so important a right, would not have abandoned every other article of their power or consequence. At the same time, it must be owned, that the right of electing the kings does not appear to have been a conventional prerogative of the i)eople; but to have been, probably, the conse- quence of the first king's dying a violent death, without leaving children, — a circumstance which must necessarily have occasioned an election to the vacant office. But be this as it may, it is certainly probable, that the people who elected the official lawgiver would likewise assume or reserve to themselves some restraining or con- trolling influence in the laws to be enacted. The kings, we there- fore suppose, submitted to the consideration of the people, in the comitia, those laws which they were disirous of enacting, and took their sense by the majority of suffrages. These laws, after the expulsion of the Tarquins, were collected into one body by Papirius, or Papisius, a patrician ; and from hiir. took the name of Jus Civile Papirianum, or Popisianum. But in the beginning of the commonwealth, such was considered to be the imperfection of this code and its want of auihoriiy, that it fell entirely into neglect, and all judicial proceedings were regu- lated either by custom or the opinions of individual magistrates. In this situation the want of a regular system of jurisprudence, which should be a standard of procedure to all the judges, and a known and fixed rule of conduct for the people, began to be uni- versally felt. Commissioners, as we have seen, were at length appointed to frame and digest such a code. The Decemviri engrossed in their collection several of the ancient laws of the kings. They retained likewise all the more recen laws which had been passed in favor of the people, as thaf wH. V.J LAWS OF THE TWELVE TAKI.ES. 333 was a condition sti])ulatcd at the time of their appointment to oflice. and on the report of the depnties said to have been sent into Greece for collecting the laws of the diderent rc|)nhlics, they horrowcd from ihein snch as they judged most snital»le to the Koman con- stitution. These laws, after being exjjosed for a ceriain time in the fornm, and submitted to the judgment of the people, who it does not appear made any alteration in them, were engraven on ten tables of brass, to which two others were added a short lime afterwards. These Twelve Tables became the basis of the Roman jurisprudence. Livy remarks, that in his time, amidst the infinite number of additional laws, the^e continued to possess the greatest authority. And Cicero, speaking of the Twelve Tables, gives them the highest encomium, affirming that they throw great light on the manners and customs of ancient times, and contain more wisdom than the libraries of all the philosophers.* It was, he tells us, a coinmon practice for the youth to commit these laws to memory. The laws of the Twelve Tables were classed in the following order. The first table enacted the form of judicial |)roceedinjs before the several tribunals. In the second were classed tiie laws regarding theft, breach of trust, and robbery. The third treated of debtors and creditors; the fourth of the patria poteslas, or powers which a father had over his children; ihe ftfth of inherit- ances and guardianships; the sixth contained the laws regarding property and possession; the seventh related to the punishment of different crimes and delicts; the eighth contained regulations regarding land estates, public roads, boundaries, and plantations; the ninth related to the privileges of the people, or the rights of Roman citizens; the tenth contained the regulation of fun-rals; the eleventh treated of religion and the worship of the gods; and the tivclfth enacted regulations regarding marriage, and the rights of husbands and wives.! This digest of jurisprudence gave, on the whole, great satisfac- tion to all ranks of men; but among the statutes of the last table was one law most imjjolitic in the present situation of allairs, anc' * Phirirna, inquil Crnssiis, est in XII Tabulis antiqiiitatis cffiiriM ; qnod et verboniiii prisca votiislas r.ocrnoscilur, ct nctionum ^>nera quicdain niojomin consuotiulinoin vitaiiiquc doclarant : Sive qnis civilein sciontiam conlciiiplrliir, quain Scccvola non putil oraUiris osso propriatn, sod nijusdain vx ali» cimxto priidcnliaj, tnlam banc di'scriptis oiniiitius civilalis utilitaliliiis, nc partibun, XII Tabulis cnntinori vidol)iii8: sive qin-m ista pnrpotcus vi plorio.»a philo-iopliia dcloclal (di(^-lm audaciiis.) hoscc lialji-t fontfs omniuin disputaliomim suarum, aiii jure civili L'l lijjibiis continoiitiir — Fromant licrt oiiinrs, diram qwr>d w-nlio: i^ibliolhi'cas, tnehcrculc. omniiiin pbilosopboniin iiniis iiiibi vidolur ,\H Tabu- larum libellua. si quis h?iTuni fnntcs, I'l capita vidi-rit, el aucl.irilatis poiidcn*, et utililatis ubcrtale supt'rarc. — Cicrro df Onitorc, lib. i. t A brief analysis of tlio laws of the Twelve Tables, and a vorv pempiruooi coinmeiita''y on llieir iuif -rt, is to Ik* found in Hosini, .\nUq. Rem , Dciniwteri lib. viii. 3r}l iNivKiisAi. iiisroKY. [nooK iii U'liicli produced accoidiii;;!)' ull tliut niiicor iind iinii.io.sily betucun (lie onlfis, \vlii( li iiii;^lit Ikivo been expected. Tliis was a law j)r()liil)itiii^ :ill imciiiuiniaf^e Ijetueeii the paliicians and plebeians — a law wiiitli tlie inferior order conid not lulp regarding as a mark of infamy and scorn. It was nalnrally felt as such, and tlie popular magistrates were not remiss in cherishing and exaggeiatirig (hat impression on the minds of llic people. It gave rise to a keen and animated debate in the Cotnilia, which Livy has niinntely detailed in the f*jurlh book of his history. The s|)ecch of tlio tribune Cannleius, on that occasion, though doubtless owing its priiu ipal merit to (he (alents of the historian, is a noble s|)ecimen ol elotpience, and of that judicious intermixture of arguiiuMit and irony which is peculiarly suited to a popular assembly. The law itself, though carried at the time, and engrossed among those of the Twelve Tables, was not of long duration. It was, in fact, the \ery first which the people, in their daily advancing j)rogrcss to an e(pialiiy of rights with the higher order, prevailed to lia\e abrogated. Thus we observe the Roman jurisprudence confined at first uiihiii very narrow bounds; a circumstance which necessarily ga\e great latitude to judges in the power of interi)reiing the statutes; and the inapplicability of these to the endless variety of cases must, of course, have greatly fomented the spirit of litigation. One admirable law, however, to be found in those tables, was the best antidote that could be devised for this en(irmous evil. This was an enactment, that all causes should be heard and determined in one day, between sunrise and sunset. This was a powerful restraint on every species of judicial chicanery, and operated as the best remedy against that delay, the worst of grievances, which often makes injustice itself more tolerable than the means of ob- taining its redress. From the laws of the Twelve Tables, the Juri^consulli com- posed a system of forms and rules, by which the processes in the courts were conducted. The number of the laws was likewise increased, from time to time, by the Plebiscita and Senulus con fulta; the former made by tlie people, without the authority of the senate, in the Cumitia Ir'ibula; the latter enacted by the sole authority of the senate. To these we may add the laws framed by the authority of the proctors^ after the institution of that magis- tracy, which \Vas near a century posterior to the creation of the decemvirs. But of those difi'erent materials which composed the body of the Roman law, it is not necessary here to treat with greater amplitude. The decemviri, like most men new in office, conducted them- selves at first with much wisdom and moderation: each of llicin by turns presided as chief magistrate of the state, during a single day, having the fasces carried before him in token of sovereign power. The nine others had no other distinguishing symbol than CM. V,] At'rii* cLiUou's. 333 runl imo e\iK\.nou iho jv-^uh o( UuMr jvnnt iliMormiuaii.m in tlte imlinary lMi>ini».-j5 of iho louunonwoalih. Uii tl»o uln»li» tltvomvin nmilioii with iH^ual »lili|;»MK'o u» ilu« ailinini>ira«itvjj of justice. 'I lun mcl ovrry nuu-muj; in llu> loiuin, to >;ivi» aiidionco iv> all oouu»lalius aiui pmoossos. TIh\v sivuuhI to bo nniuuttcti solrU bv Uw do^iiv of luuiuuuiuui* publio onlor ; nor was tlK'rt> any sY«uptCMus of jt^tKnisy or jwriy spirit. Kvon Appius riamlini, wboin bis colKvusncs stHMu lo Iwa o ivprxlod as ibo first in rank, airoctoil no supoiioriiY. His romlmi aoquind bini hijib popularity; tttul wbilo bo rtMtdvMVil iutpartial justioo to tbvvio of ovcry iai»k aiui station, Ito l»ob.»vod with j;onilono>s ami omirtosy to tlu> uuanosi cili«t>j). Wo shall prx\ ilootvotl that tlhMV >boulil bo a i>ou npiM^ttt- tuont o( ibvoinviri. Tho p«H>plo, wlu^ woio «H]uar\ t to bo toJiovod IWm« tho rousular j;o\oriunont» as tho y.\ :um» tho tiibtinato, appi\>\od of tho tnoasuiv. Sox oral sonators aspirt^l to tb*> »»ow (Dilhooi wbilo tho artful Appins, with a slunv of nivniosty, artwt«^i to tiiTline it. \U> was, thotvforo. obo^on to prx^sitlo at tho okvliott of tho now liivottjviri, ami thus ontitltni to |;ivo tlw first sntihtio. To tho stirpriso of all, ho nanunl biiusoll. ami stis;- |l;t>stolor. ami thivo of tho pK boian. Sttob w^ts tho pt^pularity ho haul aoipiiivil. and stub tho s^tiiNfaotion >f tho ptH>plo, in boinc; adiuiiiod tv> a shar»» in this in»}H>rrant and bvxuMalxlo ortioo, that his noittination was rrvoivotl with loud ap- plausos, aiui imnuHliatoly as^tvod to; howovor disploasim; wo nwiy prt>!8umo it was to timso of tho his,bor onlor, wlw oithor onvio«< \\w |»owor, iv ponoirato\l into tlw antbitiims dosipts of this »rt' fui iiKtn Tho ooUoas^tios whom Appins bail nanunl for bintsolf worr all tnon dovotod tv» his iniort''st. anil, thorxMoiv, tbox Kxllowt^l an uni- form sxstotn i>f ntoasurt^s. l\o>olxod to rotain tltoir v^tlioo iW lifo, thov dotonnimnl no nuuv to assondUo oitlh'r tin* Sonaio iv tho Oomtliu, bttt, in virtue i\l" tlH> plenary jnxwors anne\od to tln'ir ort»e«>^ to rut otV all apjn^al — to snp)Ktrt jvxintly tlK» s««|v»r«te mo** satrtvs and iliH-rtvs ol' eaolt — att^l thus to perpetiwte in their oxvn poisons a sovortMsjn, absolute, anti iinevmtr\»llod amlHxrity. This uold purpose, or at bnivt tho nttsisun^s adoptini for its aivomplisb- iuent,it seou>s e\tr\Muoly dilUoult to nvoiHNle to eoumutu pnidomr. All appr\^aobos to tyranny, if planned by wistKxnt, arv tt-adual ; atui it is notbiusi less tlmn tuadnoerve thy liberty." Then seizing a knife from the stall of a butcher — "Thus," said he, striking her to 'he heart, " thus, I send thee to thy forefathers, nn- VOL. I. 4J 338 UMVERSAI, MISIOKV. [nOOK III polluted and a free woman." TIkmi turning to llic tribunal of Aj)|)ius, " Thou uionslcr!" cried he, " with this blood I devote thy head to the infernal gods!" Appius, in a transport of rage, called out to the lietors to seize Virginins; but he, rushing out from the forum, and making way for himself with the knife which he held in his hand, while th(; multitude favored his escaj)e, got safe without the city, and arrived in a few liours at the camp. Meantime Numitorius and Icilius exposed the bleeding body to the sight of the whole people, who, inflamed to the highest pilch of fury, would have torn Appius to pieces, hafl he not found means to escape amidst the tumult, and to conceal himself in the house of one of his friends. Valerius and Horatius, two of the senators, men of consular dignity, and who had opposed the last creation of decemviri, now put themselves at the head of the people. They promised thorp the redress of all their wrongs, and the abolition of those hatea magistrates ; but urged that they should first wait the resolution of the army, which could not fail to coincide with their own. The unfortunate Virginius had no sooner acquainted his fellow- soldiers of what had happened, than there was a general insurrec- tion. Without regard to the orders of the decemvirs in the camp, the whole army, headed by their centurions, marched to Rome, and, retiring to the Aventine mount, chose ten leaders, with the title of military tribunes. They then declared their determined purpose of abolishing the decemvirate, and reestablishing the con- sular government, together with the tribunes of the people. The senate was assembled. The decemvirs thought proper voluntarily to resign their office. Valerius and Horatius were chosen consuls; and the popular magistrates, the tribunes, were elected with the same powers as formerly, which reinstated the people ai once in all their rights and privileges. Among the tribunes first chosen were Virginius, Icilius, rnd Numitorius. It may be believed that their vengeance against the infamous Appius was not long delayed. Virginius cited him before the people, at whose orders he was seized and thrown into prison, where, a few days after, he was found dead. It was sus- pected, says Dionysius, that he was privately strangled by order of (he tribunes; but other authors, with more ))robability, affirm that he chose to escape a certain and ignominious fate by a volun- tary death. His colleague Oppius, the chief abettor of his primes, had the same catastrophe, and the rest underwent a voluntary banishment, while their goods were forfeited to the public use. Such is the history of the decemvirate, that inauspicious and short- lived magistracy, which was thus violently terminated in the third year after its institution.* • An amusing comparison may De made of tlie talents of tlie two grea". U aU. VI."] TATRICIANS AND PLEBEIANS. INTERMARRIAGE MS CHAPTER VI. Law against intprmarriatro of Patricians and Plrbcians repealed— .MiliUrj Tii bunes created — Creation of Censors— Their hitrh powers of oftict — A regular p;iy assigned to the .\riny introduces a new balance into the Constitution— ConsL'fiuences of— Siege of Veii — lltunaris begin U) extend their conque«t»— Reflections on the stale of the Repubhc at tiiis period— War with tiie GauU — [ts fabulous aspect — .New popular Laws— Institution of the olUce of Prielor, — of tiuaistor — of/Edile — Licinianlaw liuiiting properly in land No sooner was tranquillity in some measure reeslablislieti in the city of Rome, than the consuls Valerius and Horatius, at the head of a large army, animated with the spirit of patriotism which the late events had strongly stimulated, marched agninst the enemy. The Volsci and iEqiii sustained a complete defeat ; but the senate, jealous, as is said, of the too great popularity of the successful generals, thought j)roper to refuse thom the honors of a triumph. The consuls, indignant at this insult, applied to tiie people, who unanimously decreed them this reward of their ser- vices. Thus the senate most imprudently threw away its privi- leges; and every day gave some new accession of weight to the scale of the people. Two powerful barriers which at this time subsisted between the patricians and plebeians, were the law which prevented the inter- marriage of these orders, and another ordinance which excluded the plebeians from the consulate and higher o/lices of the stale. It was only necessary to remove these two obstructions, to l)ring the separate ranks to a perfect equality in every substantial privi- lege of Roman citizens ; and the plebeians were determined to .eave no means untried for the accomplishment of this end. On the occasion of a new war, the ordinary device was |iractised of refusing to enter the rolls. In this j)urpose the people were torians of the Roman republic, I/ivv and Dionysius of HalicarnnMnfi, in the accounts they have given of th:it rdeUrated event, the dentil of Virifinia by the hand of h(>r father, and its important coniwquenceti. In Livv, we have a con- cise, clear, and animated narrative, where no cirrumstnnre ih Kup<-rlluous, no ooservation strained or far-fetched, nor any thing omitted which conlribulrg to the effect of the picture. In Dionvsius, we wade throurrh n minute tielail of facts, and a lalxirious legal discussion, resembling the n'porl of a law-proc*-!* in which every argument is brought forward, and every ri'llection antici[>atr inflreting the shame of a public reprimand. A penalty, however, of this kind is not fitted to operate on all dispositions, and accordingly the censors had it in their power In employ means more generally effectual They could degrade • 342 UNIVEHSAL HISTORY. [bOOK III senator from nis (li^nily and strike liis name out of the roll. The)' could depiivo a knight of his rank, by taking Irom him the horse which was maintained for him at the public expense, and was the essential mark of his station. A citizen might bo punished by degrading him from his tribe to an inferior one, or doubling his proportion of the public taxes. These, being arbitrary jjowers, might have been greatly abused; but on the other hand, it is to be observed, that no decree of the censors was unalterable: it might be suspended, or altogether taken off by a sentence of the ordinary judges, or by a decree of the censors of the succeeding Lustrum. Cicero tells us, that Caius Geta, who had been de- graded from his rank of senator by the censors, was reinstated in his dignity by their successors, and even made a censor himself; and Livy relates a similar instance of Valerius Messala. The censorship, from these extensive powers, was accounted the most honorable office of the commonwealth. From the time of the second Punic war, the censors were always chosen from such persons as had held the consulship. After the ternnn- ation of the republican government, the censorship was exercised by the emperors, and justly regarded as one of the most honora- ble and important branches of the imperial function. The dissensions between the orders still continued, with little variety either in the grievances complained of on the part of the people, or in the modes of obtaining or rather coinpelling a redress of them. The last resource of the plebeians, and which they generally found effectual, was, on the emergency of a war, to refuse to enter the rolls until the senate granted their demands. The latter body now bethought itself of an expedient which it is rather surprising they had not sooner adopted: this was to purchase the service of the army by giving a regular pay to the troops. Hitherto, in all the military enterprises, the citizens enrolled, served upon their own charges. It was a tax incumbent on every Roman to support himself during war, which being alike a burden on every free citizen, was not regarded as a grievance, but as the reasonable price which he paid for his liberty and security. Yet this circumstance necessarily limited the duration of their warlike operations to a very short period; for when the army was embodied, the lands of the poorer citizens, who had no slaves, were entirely neglected. This policy, therefore, was not only ruinous to the people, but repressed all enlargement of the Roman territory, and was an insuperable bar to extensive and permanent conquests. The senate now resolved to adopt a new system. They ordained that, in future, the foot soldiers should have a regular pay from the public treasury, to defray which burden a tax should be imposed on all the members of the commonwealth in propor- tion to their means. The people, who did not penetrate the motive of this important measure, but looked only to the im CH. VI. J PAT OF Tim AR.MT. 343 mediate advantage it promised in relieving them from uliat they had always felt a very heavy burden, were I'lilly satisfied witli the new arrangement. The tribunes, however, either looking further mto consequences, or perhaps jealous of any measure wliirh, promising an harmonious agreement between the orders, dimin- ished their own consequence as magistrates, were at much jiaina to persuade the peo|)le that the bounty of the patrician- was always to be suspected, and sought by every means to frustrate the new project. They failed, however, of their purpose. The manifest advantage of the measure prevailed over all opposiiif)ii. The patricians set the example and began the contribution, fairly paying their contingents according to the value of their c-;tates. The money was seen passing to the treasury in loaded wasons, and the poorer citizens, pleased with the sight, paid their shares Avitli ihe utmost alacrity, anticipating the return of their money with high profit into their own jiockets.* From this period we shall see the Roman system of war as'stmie a new appearance. The senate henceforward always lound soldiers at command : the state was consequently enabled to engage in extensive enterprises, and support long campaigns : every success was more signal and important, because it was maintained and prosecuted; and every conquest was turned tc permanent advantage. A most material consequence likewise arose to the constitution of the re])ublic; the senate, by connnand over the troops, obtained a favorable balance to its otherwise decreasing authority. One of the first measures which owed its success to this change in the Roman art of war was the siege of Veii, a city at iha» time equal in extent and population to Rome, and a formidable rival to her power and ascendency among the states of Italy. A formal siege w-as a new attempt to the Romans, who had hitherto limited their enterprises to small towns, which they could take by surprise or storm. In their ancient mode of attacking towns, their most refined manoeuvre was the corona, which was per- formed by surrounding the place and attacking it i. once on every quarter. A city capable of resisting this assault was deemed im- pregnable. '^I'he Romans, who were now in a capacity to form lengthened enterprises, were, from that circumstance, a greaf overmatch for any of the surrounding states, as well as from the improvement we must suppose the art of war underwent from itj now becoming a profession instead of an occasional employmenl The dominion of Rome had been hitherto conlined to the terri- tory of a few miles around the city: we shall now see how rapid • We are not informed by any of the ancient writers what pay wa.'« nllotled to the Roman soldiers at this period; but in the time of Poiybius, that i», »t the era of tiie .second Piinir. war, each foot soldier was allowed two ohoii ■ day — a centurion double that pay. ^44 UNIVERSAL HisTonr, [book mi was llie extension of her bounds, and llie slrenglh acquired hy her concjuests. The siege of Veii was prolonged for ten years. An army wintering on the field was a thing till then quite unexampled; and during the whole time of this siege, the tribunes, who suiTered no occasion to pass unimproved that promised to excite discord and domestic faction, loudly complained that this intolerable war was nothing else than a conspiracy against liberty; a design to weaken the party of the j)lcbcians, by depriving them of the suffrages of those who were with the army, while the latter, as they hinted, were to be inhumanly sacrificed in order to give the patricians the entire command of the commonwealth. Having fiill conviction of these designs, the patriotic tribunes felt it their duty to oppose the levying the tax for furnishing the military pay. The army of course soon began to mutiny; and the consequence must have been the abandonment and defeat of the enterprise, had not the patricians found means to soothe them by electing one of their number to the military tribunate. This well-timed sacrifice of a little power taken from the scale of the higher order, quieted the spirit of the opposition, and the campaign was not frustrated of its supplies. The siege of Veil proceeded, as we have said, very slowly, and during its continuance, Rome was afflicted both by real and by imaginary calamities. A dreadful pestilence broke out; and the books of the Sibyls were consulted, which declared that the only remedy was a Ledisternium^ a ceremony now performed for the first time. An Invitation was given to the chief gods of the Roman state, to partake of a splendid festival prepared for them with uncommon expense. The statues of Jupiter, Apollo, Latona, Diana, Hercules, Mercury, and Neptune, were laid upon three magnificent beds, and for eight days the most sumptuous banquets w-ere presented to these Images, which of course were eaten by their priests and partly distributed to the populace. Durin? that time, the gates of the city were open to all strangers; the courts of law were shut, and all litigation suspended; the prisoners were set at liberty, and every citizen kept open tables for all comers. Although, perhaps, this ceremony might owe its origin to super- stition alone, it is not impossible that It might actually have been attended with salutary effects. It is well known that in e|)ideniic and contagious diseases, nothing so much predisposes to infection as fear and apprehension. A jubilee of this kind, by exhilarating the spirits of the people, and banishing for a while care and anxiety, might naturally contribute to check the diffusion, and abate the violence of the contagion. ' Veil was still blockaded; and as this enterprise greatly engrossed the minds of the public, every thing In that age of superstition was construed into a good or a bad omen. The lake of Alba in- creased prodigiously, and deputies were sent to inquire what the en VI.] PETTY REVOLUTION'S. 3 J5 gods meant by that extraordinary phenomenon. The doputiey brought back word that the conquest of Veii depended on draining the lake, and that particular care sliould be taken to convey the waters to the sea; (a most wise and salutary advice, in a season of contagious disease.) The work was immediately begun; and that fine canal was cut, which subsists at this day, and conveys the waters of the lake Aibano, by Caslel-Gondoljo, to the sea. This was likewise an instance in which the faith of the people in the veracity of the prediction might have greatly aided its accom- plishment. In the present case, however, it is probable that the valor of the besieged Veientes liad powerful incitements, and perhaps from a similar improvement of popular prejudices to wise purposes; for Veii continued for a long j)eriod of time to baffle every eflbrt of the Roman power. At length, in the tenth year of tlie siege, Marcus Furius Camillus was chosen dictator, an intrepid and skilful general, who had the honor of fini>thiMg this obstinate war, by the taking of the city in the ooSlli year of Rome, and 091 b. c. The Romans had but very few laws of a political nature, or such as regulated the form of their governments, or defined the constitutional powers and rights of the distinct orders of the state. It is, therefore, no matter of surprise, to find that perpetual contest between tliose orders, giving rise to all that series of petty revolu- tions, which form almost entirely the history of the Roman re- public, for the period of above four centuries. During the regal government, the people had, in reality, more genuine liberty, than for some time after its abolition, while the constitution was almost purely aristocratical; for the kings, though they sought to humble the aspiring patricians, were extremely moderate towards the plebeians, who were thus brought very near to a level with the superior order. But under the aristocracy which followed the expulsion of the king, the patricians, wlio were the governors of the state, made it tiieir principal object to increase and confirm their power, by reducing the plebeians to absolute submission and dependence. Hence, those oppressive measures, which at length produced that stubborn opposition and resistance on the )iarl of the people, which nothing could allay but the concession of 3ieating maiiistiates from their own order, and giving them a con- 5tiluiional weight and legal inHuence in the state. This impor- tant ste|) being once surmounted, every subscrpient struggle of parties added fresh weight to the popular scale; and there were now two separate bodies in the rcpul)lic, each eagerly contending for its sovereignty, and studious of every meiiiod o^ liuiiibling and abasing the other. It cannot be said that the Romans were at this time a free people, for neither of the orders was really so. The pairicans were not free, for they were amenable to the popular assemblies; a court where the judges were their jealous rivals and naturai VOL. I. 44 S46 UNIVERSAL IIISTOUY. | BOOK III enemies. Nor could the plebeians be snicl to enjoy liberty, for they neither enjoyed the secuirity of property nor of person, from the extreme rigor of the laws regardinj;; debtors, in which situa- tion the great mass of the people stood with resjjcct to the richer citizens. Even in the popular assemblies, when the comitia were called in the order of the centuries, tiie people met, only to witness the enactment of laws, which comnionly struck against their own liberties; not to mention the right of the senate at any time to nominate a dictator who had absolute authority in the state. The plebeians, however, under all those disadvantaires, were, as we have seen, advancing, step by step, to an equality with the partricians in the enjoyment of all the offices of the commonwealth, which they now very soon obtained. It is easy to discern that this single circumstance — the election of the chief magistrates in the comitia held by centuries — formed now the only obstacle to an equality of power between the orders. It may, perhaps, be sup{)0sed, that at this period of the commonwealth, when many of the plebeians had acquired considerable wealth, and con- sequently came to be arranged in the first or higher classes, the number of these rich plebeians would frequently turn the ballance, even in the comitia centuriata, in favor of their own order; and so, in fact, it did sometimes happen; but this was not usual : for as the censors had the power of arrangement, they commonly took care tiiat the first classes, though composed in jiart of weal- thy plebeians, should iiave in them, at least, a considerable major- ity of patricians, which secured the vote of the whole class. In order to overcome this manifest disadvantage to their order, the popular magistrates might have followed either of the two different plans. Tiie one, the most difficult of accomplishment, was the procuring the election of the higher magistrates to be made in the comitio tributa; the other, in case they failed in that attempt, was to bring about the same order of voting in the comitia centuriata^ or to make the lot determine which class should take the lead in giving their suffrage. And it has been supposed that they did effect something of this nature; for Livy speaks of the prerogative class in the election of the higher magistrates, which was the term used to signify that class in the comitia tribiila, on which the lot fell to vote first. Livy, however, in this expres- sion, might mean nothing more than to signify that class wliich, in point of rank, was entitled to vote first; so that no conclusive argument can be founded on this indefinite expression he has used. , The siege and conquest of Veii was a presage of the fiiture grandeur of the Roman state. It was impossible for the small, detached, and independent states of Italy to withstand a nation fllways in arms, whose hish ambition and unremitting persever- ance were equal to the projecting and accomplishing of any enter- CII VI.] WAR WITH THE GAULS. 34"? prise in the way of conquest. It might naturally he suppcsed, tliat those smaller states, aware of the great advantage which Rome had gained by her system of professionary soldiers, would either imitate her in adopting the same plan, or at least take precaution, by an ex- tensive system of offensive and defensive alliance between them- selves, to guard against tliis formidable and encroaching power; but it does not a|)pear tliat either of these measures was adopted; and the consequence was, that signal inferiority which was the cause of tiieir progressive, and at length total subjugation to the Roman arms. The conquest of Veii was succeeded by a war with the Gauls. This formidable people — alone a cause of serious alarm to the Roman power — was a branch of the great ancient nation of the Cellre.* They are said to have first entered Italy in the reign of Tarquinius Priscus. They opened to themselves a pa^^sage through the Alps, made four different irruptions, and settled them- selves in the northern part of the Peninsula, between the Al|is and Apennines, from which they had expelled the Etruscans, and built for themselves several cities. They had been settled in this coun- try above 200 years, when, under the command of Brennus, (a. u. c. 362,) they laid siege to Clusinm. The Etruscans solicited the aid of the Romans, who sent some deputies in order to mediate a reconciliation; but these deputies, being provoked by the pride of tiie barbarians, joined themselves to the Etrurian army, and made an attack on the Gauls; a breach of the law of nations, for which Brennus immediately sent to Rome to demand satisfaction. The Romans were not inclined to grant it; but im- prudently justified, and even conferred honor on, the offending delegates. The consequence was, that Brennus, raising the siege of Clusinm, marched directly to Rome. There is nothing which tends more to encourage doubts regard- ing the authenticity of the Roman history at this period, tiian the circumstances which their writers have recorded of this war with the Gauls. Three years before its connnencement, the Roman citizens capable of bearing arms amounted, according to the numeration of the censors, to above 150,000 men. After the first engagement with the Gauls, in which a Roman army amounl- ng to 40,000 was defeated, we find Rome so absolutely defence- loss, that the barbarians entered the city without oppnsinon, and massacred the senators in cold blood, who were sitting patiently •The more ancient Greek writers hestow ihe name of Celtir indifTerently on the (Jaiils and Gernian>» Otiiers eoiifini' lint appellation to llie mtives of (Inul proper; while some antlior?* include under it the Spaniardu, coimtenanrrd in thai notion by the trrin Crltihrrlnns. 'I'he name (Viln?, however, in Mif Uom«n writers, seems to he applied exi'liisivelv to tlie inhabitants of Gallia, or ihiit eoiin- try of wfiich Cn-sar, in the beginning oi'his I'ominenlarie.i, haji aecnratelv tictcrib ed the limits. 318 UNIVERSAL HISTORT. [nOOK III wailing for death at tlio doors of tlioir lioiiscs. Tlic Gauls then set fire to ilie city, which they hiiriied to the ground. About a thousand inhabitants shut tlieinselves up in the capitol, which still liL'ld out against the enemy; but this fortress would havo been surprised and taken by assault in the night, had not sonnfi geese, more wakeful than the sentinels, alarmed the garrisou by their screaming, antl thus defeated the enemy's escalade. Tlie garrison, however, was soon reduced to extremity from want of provisions, and a capitulation ensued, by which the Romans agreed to purchase a peace for a certain price in solid gold, which tlie Gauls were weighing out with false weights, when Camillus, with a large army, (how assembled we are left to guess,) most seasonably came to the relief of his country, and engaging the enemy, ob- tained so complete a victory, that in one day's time there was not a single Gaul remaining wiiliin the territory of Rome. Is it not surprising that the sagacious Livy should gravely relate, as a piece of authentic history, such facts as are utterly irreconcilable to common probability? The destruction of Rome by the Gauls is said to have given rise to a scheme which was eagerly promoted by the tribunes of the people, the removal of the seat of government to Veii. Camillus opposed the measure in an animated oration, which is recorded, or rather composed, by Livy.* But the orator's eloquence would probably have failed of its effect, had not popular superstition con- tributed to aid his counsels. A centurion, mustering his nien in the forum, called out to one of the standard-bearers, " Here fix your banners; here we shall do best to remain. "f The omen was received by a general acclamation of the people, and all design of ad it in their power to cut them off lo a man. Pontius, the general of the Samnites, made the whole Roman army, with the consuls at their head, naked and disarmed, pass under the yoke; — a scene de- scriiied by Livy with srcat force of natural painting, in iho bepn- ning of the ninth book of his history. The historian relates, thai when the consuls first informed the army of the fate which the enemy had decreed they should undergo, the soldiers vented their rage in execrations against their commanders, as the aiiilK«rs of this degradation, and were ready to tear them in pieces : but when the dreadful ceremony began, and when they saw the garments torn from the backs of the consuls, and those men \\hom they had been accustomed lo regard with veneration, thus ignominiously treated, every one forgot his own calamity, and, filled with horror, turned aside his eyes, that he mi^ht not b«'hold the mistrnble humiliation of the rulers of his country. It was eveniinj wlien ihe Roman army was suffered to pass out of the defile ; and uh^u vol.. I. 45 S54 UN'VKKSAL JIISTOUY [liOOK 111 niglit came on, naked and destitute of every tiling, tliey ilirew themselves down in despair in a field near the city of Caj)ua. The magistrates, senators, and chief men of the jjlace, repaired to the spot where they lay, and endeavored to comfort and soothe their distiess ; hut they spoke not a word, nor ever raised their heads from the ground. The next day they j>roceeded in the same melancholy dejection to Rome, where their disaster had occasioned the utmost consternation, and the whole city had gone into mourn- By the treaty which the Romans signed after the disgrace of the Furccc Caudlncc^ they solemnly hound themselves no more to make war against the Samnites : but lliey fell upon a siiameful device to elude the obligation. Posthumius, one of the consuls, advised that the Romans should pay no regard to the treaty: but that he himself, and all who were actively concerned in making it, should be delivered up to the enemy, who might wreak their vengeance on them as they chose. This strange proposal was agreed to. Posthumius, and the [principal officers were sent in chains to Pontius, the general of the Samnites, who, with a gener- osity w^hich their conduct had not merited, set them at liberty, thoHgh with a keen reproach of their shameful disregard of an obligation universally held most sacred. We enter not into a minute detail of the war with the Samnites: it is to be found at large in Livy. It affords evidence of one fact of importance, that the Romans had now adopted the policy of ex'terminating, when they were desirous of securing a conquest. The jEqui, in the space of one campaign, lost forty towns, the greater part of which the Romans entirely demolished, and slaugh- tered the whole inhabitants. The popular dissensions suffered very little intermission from these warlike enterprises. The priesthood was now the object of contest, and the pretence used by the patricians for excluding the inferior order from that dignity, was religious scruple : but it was not easy to convince the people, that the same rank which was adequate to the exercise of the highest offices of the state, would profane the priesthood ; and a law was proposed, by two of the tribunes, and passed, which enacted that four new pontifices should be created, and five new augurs, and that both orders of the slate should be equally eligible to those offices. Thus, all the dignities of the commonwealth were now open alike to both plebeians and patricians ; and from this time, consequently, the sole nominal distinction was, that of the senate and people of Ro7ne. The Tarentines took part against the Romans in tlie war with the Samnites. This people, who were originally a Greek colony from Sparta, had acquired considerable wealth by commerce, and were of an indolent and luxurious character, very opposite to that of their parent state.* Alarmed at the progress of the Roman • iTiat;n y,h on B. C. 272.] PYRRHUS. 505 arms, aware of llielr ambitious and domineering spirit, bnt imalilo to make any vigorous effort to resist tliem, th'^y sought aid from Pyrrhus, the king of Epirus, and invited him, by a Haltering deputa- tion, to be the deliverer of Italy from its threatened yoke of servi- tude. Pyrrhus was one of the ahlest generals of his age; but he possessed a restless s[)irit, and a precipitancy in forming projects of military enterprise, without a due attention to means, or a de- liberate estimate of consequences. Cineas, his chief minister, to whom he imparted his design of invading Italy, and mentioned, with great confidence, a perfect assurance of its success, calmly asked him what he proposed after that design was accomplished. " We shall next," said Pyrrhus, " make ourselves masters of Sicily, which, considering the distracted state of that island, will be a very easy enterprise." "And what next do you intend.'" said Cineas. " We shall then," replied Pyrrhus, " j)ass over into Africa. Do you imagine Carthage is capable oi holding ojit against our arms.'*" "And supposing Carthage taken," said Cineas, "what follows?" "Then," said Pyrrhus, "we return with all our force, and pour down upon Macedonia and Greece." " And when all is conquered," replied Cineas, "what is then to be done.''" " Why, then, to be sure," said Pyrrhus, " we have nothing to do but to enjoy our bottle, and take our amusement." "And what," said Cineas, " prevents you from enjoying your bottle now, and taking your amusement?" This dialogue, which is given by Plutarch, with great naivete, presents us with a just delineatioti of the real views and sentiments of the greater part of those mighty conquerors who have disturbed the peace of the universe. Pyrrhus brought to the aid of the Tarentines an army of 30,000 men. He was astonished that a war, in which thoy were a principal party, did not, in the least, interrupt the amusements of that frivolous and dissolute people. They gave him some mns;- nificent festivals, and then purposed to leave him to fight, whila they continued their entertainments. This conduct, justly exciting both contf^mpt and indignation, Pyrrhus ordered the theatres to be shut up, closed the public »sseml)K3s, where the Tarentines idly con'^umcd the time in frivo- lous talt, and mustering the citizen^;, cnjoini'd a continued and rigorous exercise to every man who was capable of bearing; arms. So severely felt was this'dnty, that, it is said, a larger nnmber of !he inhabitants actually fled from their country rather than suffer Q deprivation of their usual pleasures. Pyrrhus was, for some time, successful. The elephants in his army were a novel sight to the Romans, and, for awhile, gave him a great advantage. It is said, however, that ihi<; experienced gen- eral, the first time he came in si'j;ht of the Roman legions, was struck with their appearance, and with the military skill di-^plavf-d in their arrangement. " The disposition of these barbarians." said .i56 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [bOOK III he, to one of liis officers, " does not savor at all of harbarisnn. We sliail presently see what they can perform." And, in fact, he very soon began to find that even his victories cost him so dear, that there was little room to hope for his ever achieving the conquest of Itnly. Tiie Romans soon became accustomed to his mode of fighting, and every campaign proved to him more and more un- successful. At length, wishing for an honorable pretext for drop- ping his enterprise, the Sicilians furnished it, by imploring his aid against the Carthaginians. Pyrrhus, accordingly, embarked his troops for Sicily, and during his absence for two years, the Romans reduced the Samnites, Tarentines, and their allies, to extremity. Pyrrhus returned, and made a last effort, near Beneventiim, in the Samnian territory. He was totally defeated, lost 26,000 men, and taking the first opportunity of giving his allies the slip, he set sail for Epirus. The Samnites, the Tarentines, the Lucanians, Bruttians, and all the other states, submitted to the arms of the Romans; who were now, in the 480th year from the foundation of the city, masters of all Italy. It is to be observed, however, that, at this time, Gallia Cisalpina, or the country between the Apennines and Alps, w'as not comprehended under the name of Italy. The policy of the Romans with regard to the nations which they conquered is worthy of some attention. The tribes into which the Roman citizens were divided were formerly, as we have seen, a local distinction. Matters were otherwise at this time. It had become a great exertion of political judgment to arrange the members of which the tribes were composed, as on that arrangement depended the issue of any measures to be carried by popular suffrage, or new laws to be enacted. It was the province of the censors to distribute the citizens in the different tribes. Now, when they formed new tribes from the inhabitants of the conquered countries, they composed these tribes chiefly of the ancient Roman citizens, and transported to Rome the principal men of the conquered nation, whoin they ingrafted into the original urban, or rustic, tribes of the commonwealth. Thus two good purposes were at once served. The Roman citizens, who princi- pally composed the new tribes, kept the provinces in order, and inspired them with an affection for the Roman government; while, on the other hand, the new citizens, dispersed among many of the ancient tribes, and constantly under the eye of Roman magistrates, 30uld have little or no influence in the affairs of the common- wealth. * See liivy, lib. ii. c. 23, where this incident is most eloquently related. B. C. 8by , CARTHAGE. S5" CHAPTER VIII. Carthage, a Phoenician Colony — Early History — Government — Wars — Ear.T History of Sicily — Syracusan Guverniiieiit — Di^nysius the Kld»'r — J)ii>nygiuii the Younger — Uion — Tiinoleon — Agaliiocles— Character of the Cartln^iuianj and Romans compared. As we are now arrived at that period when Rome, mistress of Italy, began to extend her conquests, and aim at foreign dominion, It is necessary, in order to prepare the miiui of the student of liis- tory, to follow with advantage the detail of the progress of her arms, that he sho ild have some acquaintance with the history of Carthage, and of Sicily. Carilmge, according to the most probable accounts, was founded by a colony of Tyrians, about seventy years before the building of Rome. The colony had the same language, the same laws, the same customs, and exhibited the same national character with the parent slate. Tiie early Carthaginian history is extremely uncer- tain; but from the vigorous industry of that peoj)Ie who were its founders, ant! their great progress in the arts, we may suppose that the Carthnginians made a rapid advancement. Front the time of the elder Cyrus, their marine was formidable. One of tli<.' most ancient naval engagements recorded in history, is that in winch the Carthaginian fleet, in conjunction with that of the Etruscans, fought against the Phocians of lona, who were desirous of escaping the yoke of the Persian monarch. The Carthaginians had by degree? extended their dominion along the whole African coast of the Mediterranean, from the rnnfines of Egypt on the east, to the Pillars of Hercules, or the Strait? of Gibraltar. Their capital, in the days of its splendor, that is, during the wars with the Romans, was one of the most magnificent nnd most populous cities in the universe. The number of its in- habitants is said to have amounted to 700,000; and it had under its sovereignty about three hundred towns along the Mediterranean coast. We know nothing of the nature of the oarliesf government of the Carthaginians, that is, during the first four coiitiirios from the foundation of their empire, and very little even of what it was in the latter periods preceding its dissolution. Thoy are cekbrntfd, however, by Aristotle,* as possessing one of the m_o>t perfect •Aristotle, wliose account of this republic is, on the whole, very obscure 358 UNIVERSAL HlSTOllY. [bOOK III constitutions among the ancient republics. Tliey had, like the Romans, two chief magistrates, called sufetes^ who were clioscn annually, and had powers, probably, much akin to those of the consuls. They had likewise an elective senate, which deliberated on the most important business of the state : but unanimity was requited to give effect to their decrees; for if there was a differ- ence of opinion, the matter was immediately remitted to the assembly of the people. They had a tribunal of one hundred and four judges, chosen from the senate, to whom the generals of their armies were responsible for their conduct; and it was not unusual, as we are told, for this tribunal to punish an unsuccessful general with death. All the powers of government seem to have resided in the sujfetes and senate, if concurring in opinion; for it was only in case of difference, as already said, that the sentiments of the popular assembly were consulted. Aristotle has noted two circum- stances, as defects in the constitution of this republic : the one, that it was lawful for the same individual to exercise different offices of state at the same time ; the other, that the poor were excluded from holding all offices of importance in the common- wealth. But the former of these may be found expedient and even necessary in the best regulated governments, and the latter appears to be agreeable to the soundest policy; for in offices of high trust, poverty inight often prove too powerful an excitement to a deviation from duty. The first settlements of the Carthaginians were entirely in the way of commerce. They traded with the nations on the coast of Spain for gold, and maintaining a constant intercourse with Phoenicia, their parent state, and with the other nations on the coasts of the Mediterranean, they became the commercial agents between the eastern and western parts of Europe. Their naval expeditions were not confined to the Mediterranean. They passed the Straits of Gibraltar, and coasting along the African shore, formed settlements even as far as the 25th degree of north latitude, that is, three degrees south of the Canary Islands, anciently called InsuIcR Fortunata. Hanno, by order of the Car- thaginian senate, sailed upon a voyage of discovery along the African coast to the southward, and wrote himself a very curious account of his navigation; an extract from which, or rather a frag- ment of a Greek translation of which, is still remaining, entitled the Periplus of Hanno. It is a valuable remnant of antiquity, written in the style of a plain narrative, without ostentation or em- bellishment, and very much resembling the journal of a modern navigator. The facts which he relates have nothing of the mar- ffives tliis strontT proof of the pxcellence of the Carthaginian jrovernment, that froin the oritrin of their state down to his own times, ihe acre of Alexander " its tranquillity had never been disturbed either by doinestio sedition or the tvranny of its government " — Arist. de Repub. lib. ii. cap. 2. B. C. 220.] CAUTIIAGE. 359 vellous, and agree very much uiili the accounts civcn hy ilje moderns of the same countries. He observed iVom Ijis Meet, ihai in the daytime there was nothing to be seen upon the land, but all was sliHness and silence ; but in the night he heard the sound of various musical instruments, and saw a great number of (ires lighted along the coast : and we know that such is the appearance of a great part of the western coast of Africa at this day ; that the sauages in the daytime retire into the woods to avoid'the Ix-at of the sun ; diat they light great fires in the night to dis|iert rjiis Iihri 8iinl Grircn Hennone confi'Cti : in liii »V Rhodios dc Cn. Maniii VolsDiiis in Asia rebus ci'sliH. . . . HiijUJt Ix-lln j^iil* multi iiKMiioriaj prodidcrunt : sed fx his duo, qui cum co in ristris HuTunl, iiin ulque vixcrunt, qmtndiu firttina passa ost, Silcnus rt Sdsihis LnriMlipnioniu* Atque hoc Sosilo llannihal iilcraruni Gra?carum usus i-sl docU-re.— C. N»'po« ir vit. Harinib. t Ex libris Punicis qui regis Hiempsalis diccbanlur, inlerprctatuni nobi« ft Sail. Boll. .lug. c. XX. Plaut Pa;n. Act v. 8C. 1 860 UNIVKllSAL IIISTORy [nOOK III They had certainly, however, long jjefore-this |)erio(], made sellle- menls on that islaiui. Darius, the son of Ilystaspes, proposed an alliance with them against the Greeks, and they concluded that treaty with Xerxes, when he followed out the projects of his father. They engaged to attack the Greeks of Sicily, while he invaded the mother country. The early periods of the history of Sicily are no less uncertain than those of Carthage. This country was termed Trinacfia^ from its triangular figin-e, and obtained afterwards the name of Sicania, from the Sicani, who are said to have been originally a people of Spain. The Siculi, an Italian tribe, afterwards took possession of the greater part of the island ; and from them it was named Sicilia. The Phoenicians are reported to have sent some coloni(?s into this fertile island, before the time of the Trojan war. The Greeks, a considerable while after this period, began to form settlements upon the coasts, and drove the Sicani and ihe Sicilians into the interior of the country. These Greek colonies brought with them the spirit and manners of ihcir native land ; the love of independence, and some knowledge of the arts and sciences.* A colony of the Corinthians founded Syracuse, which became the most illustrious of the Grecian cities of Sicily ; and from Syracuse arose afterwards Agrigentum, Acra. Casmene, Camarine, and sev- eral other flourishing towns. What was the most ancient form of the Syracusan government, we are much at a loss to know. But on the authority of ancient authors, we are assured that it was for a considerable tract of time monarchical ; and might long have continued so, had all its sove- reigns inherited the eminent virtues and abilities of Gelon, its first monarch, who, though severe in his manners, was one of the best of princes ; but his successors abusing their power, and exercising the most despotic tyranny, at last drove their subjects to the neces- sity of abolishing the regal government ; and, as if the example had been contagious, the whole Greek cities of Sicily expelled their tyrannic governors, and entered into a general confederacy to secure their individual freedom and independence. Sixty years after this period, an obscure man of the name of D'onysius, by great address and the most various abilities, had so ingratiated himself with the people of Syracuse, while in the capa- city of one of their magistrates, that he gradually usurped the supreme authority. He was a very able general, and successfully withstood the attempts of the Carthaginians to make themselves masters of Sicily. By his army, these formidable invaders, who had obtained possession of a great part of the island, were almo * No country, of so narrow bounds, lias in ancient times produced more learned men tiian Sicily. /Eschylus, Diodorus Siculiis, Knipedocles, Gorgias, Euclid, Archimedes, Epicharmus, Theocritus, were all Sicilians by birth. B C. 405.] DIO.N'YSIUS 561 entirely extirpated. Dionysius supported his adiniiiistr!,tioii by military force, by extreme severity and the most rigid despotism; yet there were some features of his character which seemed to indicate a more generous nature. He was fond of literary pur- suits, a liberal patron of learned men, and even himself a |}0ct. He contended for the prize of poetry ;;iven at the feast of Bacchus, and obtained it; though, if we credit the siory told of the po.-t Philoxenus, this must have been a very partial judgment. Piiilo- xenus, it is said, being invited to dine with Dionysius, and to hear him recite some poetical composition, was the only one of the guests who took the liberty of censuring it; he was condemned to the mines; but being soon after set at liberty, and invited to hear another recitation, he held his peace when it came to his turn to give his opinion. " What," said Dionysius, "have you nothing to say on this occasion.-' " " Carry me back to the mines," said Philoxenus. Dionysius, we are told, was not displeased with the answer. The character of this prince is, on the whole, ambiguous. It is not improbable that the hatred which the Greeks ever atfectcd to bear to the name of tyrant, has made their historians blacken the character of Dionysius more than he deserved.* We read of the constant terror he was under of assassination; of his never venturing to harangue the people but from the top of a tower; of the dungeon ]^e contrived for tlie imprisonment of state-criminals, constructed in the form of the cavity of the ear, which communi- cating with an aperuire in his private apartment, he could distinctly hear any word that the prisoner uttered; of the horror ho had of allowing himself to be shaved, and of his making his daughters singe off his beard with nut-shells. But how is all this consistent with the certain facts, of his commanding his armies in person; his overseeing his numerous artisans employed in the public work?; his familiar intercourse with men of science, his magnifici'iit enter- tainments, and, at length, his dying of a c'ehauch at a public festi- val? Great allowance must be (nade for the j)rejudices of ihoso writers who have given us the character of Dionysius. After the death of Dionysius the elder, the crown of Syracuse passed, without opposition, to Dionysius his son, an idle, weak, and dissolute prince, whom his father, to repress any prematun* schemes of ambition, had kept in ))rofonnil ignorance. Along with the tyrannical disposition of his father, he had the same pas- sion, or at least the same affectation of a taste, for literature. The * Dionysius having sent his brolhrr to th<> Olympic pimon to rontnul in hit name for Iho prizf of pdclry, the (iioek.4, who dcti'stlfd \u» m.iiiip, hissoil tha recilcis ofF the sliirp, and lore hi^ brother's neli paviUon to piere*. Lvaija, Ihe orator, ma le a speech on llie orcasi«in, in wiiirh he iindertixik Ui prove lh«l it was an alTroMt to all Greece, and nn insult on tlieir !«ncrpd uoleinnitien. lo allow the coini)ositioii3 of a wicked tyrant to l>e publicly reiicani«d.. — I'lularcli Mor VOL. I. '1'3 362 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [rOOK III philosopher Plato had heen invited lo Syrar-use, by Dionysius ilie elder, and had contracted an intimate Irieiidsliip with Dion, the brother-in-law of Dionysius, of whom, in one of his epistles, he gives this high character, that he had never met with a young man on whom his philosophical principles had made so great an im- pression. But their effect on Dionysius himself was not so favor- able; for, being ofiended with the freqflom which the philosopher used in censuring whatever he disapproved in the maxims and government of the tyrant, the latter ordered him to be sold as a slave in the jHjblic market. His disciples paid the price of five minae for their master, and sent him safe back to Greece. Dion. from an earnest desire of reforming the morals of his kinsman, the younger Dionysius, persuaded him to invite the philosopher once more to return to Sicily. Plato came, and virtue and learning seemed for awhile to reign at Syracuse : but their dominion was of short duration; for the corrupted courtiers of Dionysius prevailed on him to banish Dion, and Plato followed his favorite disciple. The exile of Dion was aggravated by circumstances of the most flagrant injustice and oppression : his property was confiscated, and Areta, his wife, the sister of Dionysius, was, by that tyrant, com- pelled to enter into another marriage with a sycophant of his court. The more respectable part of the Syracusans were indig- nant at these outrages, which reflected dishonor on the state, and sought earnestly to rid themselves from their yoke. They' held a secret correspondence with Dion, whom they prevailed on to aid them in their design of effecting a revolution. With the aid of foreign troops whom he levied in Grece, and supported by all the Syracusans who favored the cause of liberty, Dion compelled the tyrant to evacuate Syracuse, and seek refuge in Italy. But the austere manners of the virtuous Dion were not suited to a licentious and corrupted people. He lost the affections of his subjects; they forgot his services, and deposed and banished him : he was recalled, indeed, soon after, but to meet with a worse fate : for while he sought to appease the seditions excited by the partisans of Diony- sius, he was assassinated by an infamous Athenian, on whom he had bestowed his chief confidence. Aided by the distractions of Syracuse, consequent on the death of Dion, Dionysius regained the throne, ten years after his ex- pulsion : but his tyrannical disposition inflamed, not mitigated by his misfortunes, soon became so intolerable, that he was expelled a second time, and banished to Corinth; he there ended his days in poverty and obscurity. It is said, that the tyranny of his nature found a congenial gratification in exercising the employment of a schoolmaster. This last revolution had been efi'ected by tne aid of Timoleon, a noble Corinthian, whom his countrymen deputed to restore the liberties of their ancient colony. Tin)oleon had distinguisiied himself by an ardent passion for republican freedom, whicl" had B. C. 345.] TIMOLEOX. 3C3 even hurried liim into the commissior) of a shocking crime. Ena- ble to dissuade his brother, Tiniophanes, from a design of usurping the sovereignty of his native state, he caused two of liis friends lo assassinate him, in iiis own presence. This deed, though ajiplaud- ed by his fellow citizens, was attended by sucii severe remorse^ that he threw up all public employment, and wandered in melan- choly dejection for a period of twenty years. He was now, how- ever, summoned to take the command of the expedition lo Sicily, and his favorite passion prompted him to obey the summons. The Carthaginians having some settlements in Sicily, had long earnestly looked to the acquisition of the whole island, and at this time, under the pretext of aiding the Syracusans in the design of dethroning their tyrant, had landed a large force, and seized and garrisoned several of the Sicilian towns. Dionysius, reduced to extremity between the Carthaginian army on the one side, and the troops of Timoleon on the other, chose to enter into a capit- ulation with the latter, and agreed to abandon his throne, and pur- chase his life by a voluntary banishment into Greece. Timoleon sent him in a single galley to Corinth. Having delivered Syra- cuse from her tyrant, he now turned his arms against the Cartha- ginians, whom he defeated in several battles, and compelled to yield uj) all their new acquisitions, con6ning themselves within the limits of their ancient possessions. Having thus honorably fulfilled the original object of his mission, in givin.:; peace and liberty to the Syracusans, Timoleon found his aid and alliance eagerly courted by the other rei)ublics of Sicily, who desired to follow the example of Syracuse in expelling their domestic tyrants, and establishing a free constitution. This pur- pose successfully accompli Jied, Timoleon now applied himself lo the means of repairing the wasted population of the Syracusaii territory, by recalling all those citizens whom the tyranny of ihe late government had compelled to abandon their country, and by prompting new settlers to resort thither by every encouragcmenl which good policy could suggest. This truly great man no sooner brought about a regular and stable administration of government, than he gave an illustrious proof how disinterested had been the motives of his conduct, by resigning all power, and returning to the condition of a private citizen. As such he passed the remaiii- der of his days, highly honored and beloved by that people who owed to his virtues their liberty and their happiness. It is not difHcult to account for those revolutions lo whicn we nave observed the state of Syracuse so much exposed. This city had acquired great wealth by commerce. The overgrown fortunes of individuals put it in their power not only to stir up fac- tions and cabals, but even to raise armies. The state likewise was accustomed to employ only foreign troops, and thus arn)n!ed a •empting op|)ortunity to strangers to aim at attaining power and VP'fluence in the republic. Had there been in Sicily any (illier 36 i UNIVKUSAI. IIISTOJIV. [lIOOK Ml. State so fonnidiiljle as t© balance the power of Syracuse, we slioiild then have seen in that country nearly the same scenes that we have observed in Greece. We should have seen the inferior states pass from the alliance of the one to that of the other; associations constantly foi incd to maintain a balance of power, and at the same time a cordial union of the whole against a foreign enemy. But as the ))o\ver of Syracuse was not kept down by any formidable ri\'al in Sicily, this circumstance obliged the inferior stales who wished to avoid her yoke to seek aid fiom abroad, and thus Sicily was laid open to the Carthaginians and to the Greeks*. The Syracusans did not long enjoy the liberty and peace to which they had been restored by Timoleon. Agathocles, a man who had risen from a low condition to the first miliiaiy honors, and tlie connnand of their fleets and armies, took advantage of that power to render himself master of the city. Besieged by the Cartliaginians in Syracuse, he carried the war into Africa, ravaged the country to the gates of Carthage, and defeated their army in a signal engagement, which had very near proved fatal to their empire. He suflered, however, a signal reverse of fortune. Du- ring his absence in Africa, the Sicilian states, oppressed by Syracuse, formed a league in defence of their liberties. Agadiocles having reimbarked a part of his troops, with the design of chastising this revolt, the Carthaginians in the meantime reduced the remainder of the Syracusan army to such extremity, that even the return of llieir leader was insufficient to retrieve their losses. Regarding their situation as desperate, Agathocles, with the meanest treach- ery, abandoned his army in the night, and escaped back to Sicily in a single vessel, leaving his two sons to the mercy of the Car- thaginians, who put them both to di ath. His vengeance now found an object in reducing the Sicilian states, whose revolt had been the immediate cause of his disasters; but while actively en- gaged in this purpose, his life was shortened by poison. The Carthaginians, still intent on the acquisition of Sicily, now nvested Syracuse with an immense fleet and an army of 50,000 men. Unable efTectually with their own power to resist this overwhelming force, the Syracusans solicited aid from Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, who, as we have before seen, had at this time abandoned all hope of achieving the conquest of Italy. He seized this occasion as an honorable pretext for withdrawin;^ his troops from that country. The Syracusans received him wi'.h open arms, and put him in possession of their city, their fleet, and the public treasure. Pyrrhus, with this combination of force, was for some time eminently successful; but on a change, as we have before related, this prince thought it his wisest course to drop his schemes of ambition, and return to Epirus. On quitting Sicily, he is said to have exclaimed, " What a beautiful field of battle do we leave for the Romans and Carthaginians! " His prediction was speedily fulfilled, for immediately after began the first Punic war. B. C.261.] no.Mi..vs AM) c\R'rmGiMANs. .'5G5 The character of the Carthaginians, and that of tiie Romans, whom we shall now see engager! in war for a long scries of years, 'brmed a very remarkahle contrast to each oiherT As this difler- ence of character may, perhaps, be accounted for on one single principle, I shall endeavor very shortly to unfold that principle, n a few observations on the effects of a commercial life iij)on the enius, manners, and laws of a nation. One most natiual effect of the commercial spirit is a selfish and interested turn of mind; a habit of measuring every thing by the standard of profit and loss, and a predominant idea that wcafih is the main constituent hoth of public and private happiness. Tlio contrast of character, in lliis respect, between the Romans and Carthaginians, has been finely remarked by Polybius. " In all things," says that judicious writer, "which regard the acquisiiion of wealth, the manners and customs of the Romans are infiniiciv preferable to those of the Carthaginians. This latter people cs teemed nothing to be dishonorable that was connected with gain. Among them, money is openly employed to purchase the dieni- ties and offices of the state ; but all such |)roceedings are capital crimes at Rome." I am afraid that a contrast, so honorable to the Romans, could only have been made with justice in the early periods of the republic ; since we know that without an increase of commerce, to which might be attributed the consequent increase of corruption and venality, those vices had attained to as great a height towaids the end of the republic at Rome, as ever they had done at Carthage. But wealth acquired by plunder, rapine, and peculation, is yet more corruptive of the manners of a people, than riches acquired by merchandise. Another effect of the prevalence of the commercial spirit, is to depress the military character of a people, and to render thenj indisposed to warlike enterprises. The advancement of trade cannot take place in any high degree, unless a nation is at peace with its neighbors, and enjoys domestic security. The prospect of that precarious gain which arises from warfare, will not weigh agamst the certain advantages which comuKTce derives from a state of peace The art of war will not, therefore, flourish as a profession among a commercial people, and the praciiee of it will generally be intrusted to mercenary troops. Military rank will be in low esteem, because, when purchased, it ceases in a great de- gree to be honorable. Thus the Carthaginians, though certainly not inferior by nature to the Romans in coiirage and miliiary prowess, were become so from habit and education. The armies of the empire were not composed of its native subjects ; they were mercenaries, and, therefore, had no tiaitnal afleetion for that soil wliich they were called to defend, or that jieople who were nothing more than their |)nymasters. Hence the signal inferioriiy of their armies to the Romans, unless when commanded l>y Carilia- ginian generals of high, natural, military genius, who could bring 366 UNIVERSAL UlSTOIiy. [riOOK III. their force iiilo aclion as a great inacliiiie illrcclud by one simple power. Public sjjirit and a high tone of iiaiional virtue are rarely to be found in slates whose principal object is coninierce. Patriotism cannot flourish, where the spirit of gain predominates. Each in- dividual, feeling interest separate from, and often incompatibia with that of the state, it is not surprising that what regards only the good of the community should have but small influence ; and even that pr'vate advantage, and the enrichment of individuals; shouK be the mainspring of public measures. Bu'. til 3, It may be said, is the dark side of the picture. Let us, therefore, attend to those beneficial consequences, which may naturally be attributed to the prevalence of the commercial spirit in a nation. And of these, what immediately strikes us, as the most obvious, is the general difTusion of industry. Among a commercial people, the faculties both of mind and body are of necessity almost con- tinually em[)loyed. Invention is ever on the stretch to discover new sources of gain ; and the enterprising spirit of the more opulent furnishes constant occupation to the machanic, the manu- facturer, and the laborer. Inseparably connected with the general diffusion of industry, is a spirit of frugality. Riches have their full value when purchased by the labor either of the mind or body, and what costs dear will not be frivolously expended. Justin has remarked the parsimony as well as the industry of the Tyrians. Strabo and Cicero give the same ciiaracter of the people of Marseilles, and Diodorus Siculus of the Carthaginians. In modern times we observe the association of the same qualities among the Dutch and the Chi- nese. Another necessary consequence of the prevalence of commerce, 13 a regularity and strictness of the national police, a severity of *.he laws with respect to mutual contracts and obligations, and a consequent security in the transactions of individuals with each other.* I know not whether a certain degree of refinement in manners, at least to the length of general courtesy and afiability both to those of the same nation and to foreigners, be not a conse- quence of the spirit of trade ; a refinement of manners, however, very different from that of a luxurious people, where the laws of behavior arise chiefly from motives of ease and pleasure, or are dictated by gallantry or a high point of honor. Science is likewise in many respects greatly indebted to com- merce. Thus astronomy, navigation, general maihematics, me- * AVhen tlie Roman writers inveigh against the Piniica Jidcs. the censure applies to their character in war; and even in that respect it may well be ques- tioned whether the Roman character stood in any higlier degree of estimation. B. C. 264.] FIRST PCMC WAR. 3G7 chanics, and indeed all sciences subservienl lo practical ctiiiiy, are greaily advanced by it, and deri\ e a vast eniourai^enieiii from the demands which it occasions for the productions of ilie useful arts. With regard to literature there is greater doubt. The iabor of the head in those productions which tend only to aniuse- nent, or at least a refinement of the intellectual powers, wiihoui ny obvious consequence as to the practical business of worldly jfe, will not, it is probable, meet with much encouragement among a people whose views extend no farther than die substantial acqui- sitions of wealth and properly. Such are the principal ellects of the spirit of commerce on the character and manners of a nation; and such accordingly we find to consiitute the principal features of the Carthaginian character opposed to the Roman. CHAPTER IX. First Punic War — First Naval Victory of the Romans — Invasion of Africa- • Rcgulus — Tcrminatinn of tlie War — Skco.m) Pumc War — Hannibal pasf the Alps — His victories in Italy — Uatilc of Cannip — Hannibal wintrrs in (^apua — Siege of Syracuse — dt-fended by Archimedes — Rattle of Ziina — and end of Second Punic War — Defeat of Philip H. of Maeedon — of .Antniohti*, king of Syria — Cato the Censor — Accusation of Scipio Africanu!< — Hid char- acter — Scipio Asiaticus — War with Perseus and reduction of Macedonia — TiintD PuMC War, anu dkstiiuction ok (?ARriiAGE. It has been justly remarked that the Romans, all hough an ambi- tious people, did not begin to form plans of extensive concpiest, till they had suflicient strength to undertake thfin with a(lvantae,e The triun)ph which their arms had obtained over IVrrhus, the most able and the most experienced general of his lime, seen>od to give them an assurance of success in auy military enterprise in which they should engage. The First Punic war took its rise froii^the following cause. The Mamertines, a |)eople of Campania, had taken possession of Mes- sina, one of the Sicilian towns allied to Syracuse. Iliero, king of Syracuse, had marched against these invaders, who, conscious tha they were unable to withstand so povverlul an antagonist, api»li<'<| for aid, first to the Carihaginians, and afterwards, from rational fear of being enslaved by this power, to the Romans. Although this was a very unjustifiable quarrel, the Romans made no scruple 368 UNIVEUSAI, IIISTOUY. [liOOK III. 10 ^akc a pail; n.»u liicy sent a large army, uliicli engaged ana clcfeaied tne uiincii loitcs of llie Syratusans and Cariliaginians. The king of Syracuse having now experienced to liis cost the power ol tlie Roman anns, was glad to court their alliance; flat- tering hiniself, by this uicans, with the |)rospect of absolutely ex- j)elling from Sicily the Carthaginians, who had long enter;i;(ined the design of annexing »uis island to their empire, and had made considerable progress in mat design. By the joint forces o( tiiC Romans and Syracusans, Agrigenliun, one of the principal citieji then possessed by the Carthaginians, was taken, after a long sie/,;-e. The Romans, encouraged by this success, and conscious of the great advantage which the enemy derived from their marine, oegan to think of equipping a fleet to cope with them at sea, as well as on land. A Carthaginian galley, stranded on the coast of ^taly, is said to have served them as a model; and, by a wouderlul effort of industry, they equipped in a few weeks a hundred simtlar to it, with five banks of oars — and twenty of a smaller size with three banks. The Consul Dicilius made an improvement on these ships of war, by the invention of a machine called Connis, — a sort of crane, which, falling down and fastening upon the ships of the enemy, brought them to a close en- gagement, and served at the same time as a bridge or gangway for boardins; them. All new inventions are usuallv successful at first, from the surprise which they occasion. The Roman fleet gained a most complete victory over that of the Carthaginians. A vast number of their ships were destroyed, above 7,000 men killed, and an equal number made prisoners.* For a few years the success of the Romans was uninterrupted. They took from the Carthaginians the islands of Corsica and Sar- dinia; and in the naval engagement at Ecnomus, having captured sixty of the enemy's ships, they now thought themselves in a situ- ation to attempt the invasion of Africa. The consul Attilius Regulus had the command of that expedi- tion. The history of this illustrious man, particularly the latter part of it, is, by some modern writers, suspected of being fabulous; and indeed they have advanced some very plausible arguments against the belief of its authenticity: yet it is found in the best of the Ro- man writers, and is in itself so beautiful, that we cannot hastily resolve to refuse it credit. Regulus, after several successful en- gagements in Africa, had advanced even to the gates of Carthage; and such was the general consternaiion, that the city proposed to capitulate. It had been glorious for Regulus thus to have termin- * This naval engagement was fought on the coast of Sicily, near Mylcp, now Milazzo. A monument of the victory was erected at Rome, which subsists to this day — the columiia rostrata, dug up about 200 years ago, and now standing in Uie Capitol. B. C. 255.] REGULUS. 369 ated the war by an advantageous and honorable peace , but, blinded by success, the terms he insisted on were so severe, thai, even situated as they were, the Carthaginians rejected them In the meantime, a large body of Greek troops arrived to their assist- ance. This changed the fortune of the war ; the Carthaginians assumed new courage, and with an army largely rcinf<'>rced, attack- ing the Romans, they gained an important victory, and made Reg- ulus their prisoner. The Romans, undismayed by this great misfortune, prosecuted the war with fresh vigor. Metellus, in Sicily, was carrying every thing before him. He defeated Asdrubal, th? ('arthai;inian general in a signal engagement near Panormus ; and Carthage, dis|)iriied by her losses, began seriously to wish for pcac. Anjbassadors for that purpose were despatched to Rome ; and Regulus was sent along with them, as it was not doubted that the negotiation, seconded by the endeavors of this general, whom his country most deservedly respected, would be easily terminated. They exacted at the same lime from him an oath — that he would return to Carthage, in case there should neither be peace nor an exchange of prisoners. To the surprise of all, this great and generous man used his utmost endeavors to dissuade his countrymen from agreeing to a peace ; a proposition which he represented as proceeding solely from the weakness of the enemy, whom, by continuing the war, they would compel to any submission. But still further, he even dissuaded his countrymen from consenting to an exchange of prisoners ; a mea- sure which he endeavored to convince them must be to their disad- vantage, from this circumstance, that tiiey had in their liands many of the best officers of the enemy, whom ihey would be obliged to exchange against private men. Ilis arguments prevailed, and the negotiation was broken off. Of the conduct of Regulus, and of the nature of the obligation which bound him, there have been various opinions, both among the ancients and moderns. Cicero argues the matter at great length in the third book of his Offices.* lie applauds tlie con- duct of Regulus, not only in the strict observance of his oath, but in his dissuasive against the exchange of prisoners. On the oilier band. Sir Walter Raleigh, in his excellent History of the World, has distinguished between these two actions. He applauds the conduct of Regulus in strictly maintaining the obligation of his oath, and in opposing the treaty of peace with the enemy ; but his dissuading his countrymen from agreeing to an exchange of prisoners, he censures as a piece of ostentatious stoicism, and even inhuniuniiy, which no good reasor of slate could ju'>tify. And this we must think a sound opinion. The latter |)art of the conduct of this illustrious man must on all hands meet widi ad- " Cic de Offic. 1. iii. c. xxri. et s^q. VOL. I. 47 370 UNivKusAL iiisToiiy. [noon Ul miration. -The Ponlifex Maxinuis, on being consnllod en tlip. validity of the oatli lie had sworn to return to Carthage, gave it as his ojjinioii that, it having been extorted by the necessity ol his situation, he was under no obligation to observe it. But the noble soul of Regulus could not admit of such evasion. Disre- garding the entreaties of his friends, the tears of his wife and chil- dren, tiie urgent remonstrance of the senate and of the whole Roman jieople, this generous and heroic man resolved that the terror of consequences, how dreadful soever, should not persuade •lim to a violation of his honor.* "I am not ignorant,'' said he, " that death and the severest tortures are preparing for me ; but what are these to the stain of an infamous action, the reproach of n guilty mind ? I have sworn to return to Carthage ; it is there- fore my duty to go. Let the gods direct the consequence as to their wisdom shall seem best." To Carthage accordingly he retin'ned, where, as he had foreseen, he suffered a cruel and igno- minious death, f The war in the meantime continued. Lilyboeum, one of the strongest places belonging to the Carthaginians in Sicily, after a siege of many years, by the Romans, with the aid of the Syracu- sans, and the most signal efforts on both sides of courage, skill, and perseverance, was taken, in the tenth year, by blockade. Af- ter some alternate successes at sea, the Romans were victorious in two naval engagements ; in the last of which, the Consul Lu- * This scene is beautifully described by Horace, Od. iii. 5, 49. t Most of the ancient writers concur in the assertion that Recrnhis was put to death in a very barbarous manner hy'tiie Cartiiaginians. Tiie authors of tlie .An- cient Universal History rehite as the most common opinion, that he was first exposed to a burninrr sun, with his eyehds cut off, and afterwards shut up in a r;asl<, stuck around witii sharp nails, in which he was suffered to die of hunger and want of sleep. — Anc. Un. Hist., vol. xii. p. 1!)1. It must, however, be owned, that great doul)t hanors over all the accounts that are given of the inhuman treat- ment of Reguhis. Polybins, who is extremely minute in every thing relative to the Iiistory of this ilhistrious man, is entirely silent as to liis fate; which, had it been such as is commonly related, he could never iiave omitted to mention. He assures us, in tiie first book of his History, that lie lias been most particular in his account of Regulus, that others may derive improvement from his example in not trusting too much to a course of prosperous fortune. As, tiierefore, the calamitous death of Regulus was the stroncrest exemplification of this moral les- non, it is impossible to believe that he would have studiously avoided the mention of the above particulars, if they had been true. But there is in reality a positive testimony against the truth of three atrocious circumstances above related. Amonir various fragments of ancient authors, col- lected bv the Emperor Constantine Porphj-rogenifus, is a passage from Diodorus Sicuhu', in whicli it is asserted that the death of Regulus was owing to neglect ; nrobably llie carelessness of his keepers in omitting to sujjpU' him with food. The author adds, that the widow of Regulus instigated her sons, in revenge of their father's death, to wreak their resentment against two of the Cartliagmian prisoners who had fallen into their hands, one of whom they actually starved to death. The other was fortunate enough to convey intelligence to the Roman magistrate of his comrade's death and his own intended fate, in consequence of which the Attilii very narrowly escaped a capital punishment. See Toland'a Works, vol. ii. p. 4'i, where there is a trans'ation of the fragment of Diodonu* and a proof of its authenticity B. C. 219.] END OF THE FIRST PUNIC WAR. "371 latius defeated Hamilcar Barcas, the father of the great Hannibal, and compelled the Carthaginians to sue for peace, uliich was not granted them but on the hardest conthiions. Tliese were, that they should abandon all their possessions in Sicily: tiiat, in the space of twenty years, they should pay to the Romans 2,200 talents of silver — about 325,480/ sterling; that they should restore, without ransom, all their prisoners; and lastly, that they should not make war against Micro, the king of Syracuse, or any of his allies. The Roman people refused to ratify this treaty, unless on the further conditions, that they should have an additional thousand talents for the expenses of the war; that the whole sum should be paid in ten years instead of twenty; and that the Car- thaginians should yield up all the small islands which they possessed upon the coast of Italy. Sicily was declared a Roman province, with the exception of the kingdom of Syracuse. A pra;tor and quaestor were sent thid)cr yearly, the former as a civil judge, the latter to collect the revenues. Thus, the Romans, after a war of twenty-four years, begun un- der every disadvantage, destitute of finances, totally unprovided with a fleet, and, of course, ignorant of navigation, were, at length, able to prescribe the most humiliating terms to Carthage, the first maritime power in the world. At the end of the First Punic war, the temple of Janus was shut — an event which had not happened since the reign of Numa, that is, near 500 years. In a few years it was again o|iencd, and never shut till the reign of Augustus. The treaty with the Carthaginians was of no long duration. It was of too humbling a nature to the pride of this migiity power, to subsist longer than absolute necessity compelled: — an useful lesson of moderation to a victorious people. No sooner had a little time allowed the vanrjuished state to repair her losses, than the war broke out again, with redoubled animosity. The C'arthn-ii.iians began hostilities by the siege of Sagiintum, a rity f>f Spain, then m alliance with the Romans. Tin; siege was conducted by Ilan- iii!)al, then a very young man, but who, from his infancy, lui'l b«'Pu iniued to arms, and had all the qualities of a great genera!. His character has been drawn by Livy with the pencil of a master: — " IIannil)al, being sent into Spain, on his arrival drew the eyes of the whole army upon him. The old soldiers believed that Hamil- car was again restored to life, and that they saw once more tho same look of decision, the same fire of the rye, the very counte- nance and lineaments of their leader. Speedily, there was no npr«l of such recollections of the father to endear to them the suirered under the yoke of the Ron)ans. A misunderstanding that prevailed between the two new con- suls, Varro and Emilius, was the immediate cause of that fatal defeai which the Romans sustained at Canna; in Apulia, and which brought the Rc^puhlic lo the very brink of destruction. The consuls took tlie chief command alternately, each for a day ; an unwv-^e arrangement, which demandet.1 the most perfect consonance of desit:ns and of tempers. It was the turn of \'arro, who, eager to signalize himself, was imi)riident eiiougli to attack the army of Hannibal, then admirably posted, and which bad every advantage botli of disposition and situation. The manteuvres of the Cartha- ginian general in tbe battle of Canna; showed the most profound knowledge in the military art. I shall not here enter into a par- licuiai- detail of them ; but when I come to treat of the system of war among the ancients, I shall select as an cxatnple ibis great battle, and shall endeavor to give some idea of thai very simple * Tlic ro, •.'.." ofllnnnilial arross llip Alp^ is nol ilrscrilx-d l>y lit*' ancient wiilera With such accuracy us lo ;;ive any ccrlainty <>f ila precise directiun. 371 UNIVF.USAI. IIISTOKV. [ BOOK III. ami admirable manoeuvre plannod by Hannibal in ilio heat of the cngagoinciit, to which the Carthaginians owed their success. The Roman army was entirely cut to pieces. Forty thousand were left dead ii])on the field of battle, among whom was the consu» Emilins, and almost the whole body of the Roman kniihts. Varro. the other consul, followed by a few horse, fled precipitately tc Vcnusia. The Romans, amidst the consternation from so great a disaster, displayed a magnanimity truly heroic. The senate, on the first report of the fate of their army, ordered the gates of the city to be shut, lest the exaggerated intelligence of those who fled from the fight should add to the general alarm. The women were forbid to stir out of their houses, lest their cries and lamentations should dispirit those who had their country to defend ; and the senators •exerted themselves in every quarter to dispel the fears of the people. Varro, from the wTCck of the army, was able to collect 10,000 men ; with these he repaired to Rome to defend the city, in case Hannibal, as was expected, should immediately attack it. This measure was undoubtedly his wisest policy, and he was strongly urged to it by Maherbal, one of his ablest officers. It appeared, however, to Hannibal, a doubtful enterprise ; and while lie delib- erated, the opportunity was lost. Varro, whose temerity was the cause of this great disaster, on approaching Rome with the shat- tered remains of the army whom he had with much pains collected, was met by the senate and received their solemn thanks, because he had not despaired of the republic.* The effect of this spirited conduct was wonderful. The citizens thronged to carry their money to the public treasury. All above the age of seventeen, of whatever rank, enrolled themselves, and formed an army of four legions and 10,000 horse. Eight thou- sand of the slaves voluntarily ofiered their services, and with the consent of their masters were embodied and armed. The allied states likewise furnished troops in proportion to their abilities. The success of Hannibal was variously judged of at Carthage. The most sanguine, and the most short-sighted, concluded that Rome was now annihilated, et quod actum erat de republica Ro- mana. The wiser part reasoned far otherwise. They had heard of thg conduct of the city subsequent to that great disaster, and * Varro, however unfortunate in this affair, and justly censurable for his te- merity, was both a brave and a modest man. His countrymen were so sensi- ble of his virtues and abilities, that they proposed in this emerffency to create him dictator; but he refused that hi;jh situation. " Confrejit rempublicam Te- rentius Varro, Cannensis pujrnfB temerario ingressu ; idem delatam sibi ab uni- verse senatu ct populo dictaturani recipcrc non sustinendo, pudore culpain ma\im(P rhdis redemit; effecitque ul clades deorum irse, medestii ipsius mori bus imputaretur." — Valer. Ma.i. lib iv c .'>. B. C. 214.] FABIUS MAXIMLS. 37.^ they judgiiil mat while that spirit cxisicrl, ilicrc was mm h viM which letriaiticd for them to con(|iier. But even tlie most sa2;a- cioiis could not have foreseen that Ilaiinihal was to ruin himsxlf liv his own imprudence. Capua, llie metropolis of Campania, had opened her gates to the victor ; the winter furnished a proi<>xt to his troops to desire some respite from their fatis;ues ; and he yield- ed to the blandishments of case, and to the seduction of luxury. While his army indulged in all the variety of pleasures, tin'y he lievod they had now attained the end and the reward of tlieir toils ; daily desertions weakened their numbers: and the Romans soon recovered the superiority they had lost. The proconsul Sempronius Gracchus, at the head of an army composed chiefly of slaves, defeated 18,000 Carthaginians at Ben- evpntum. With permission of the senate, he had promised all of them their liberty if they proved victorious, and this prospect gave thorn the courage of heroes. Philij) 11., king of Maccdon, having made an alliance with Hannibal, landed in Italy, and laid siege to Apollonia, but being surprised in his catnp by the pro-praetor Lae- vinus, and utterly defeated, with difllculty secured his retreat to his own dominions. The republic owed much to the military skill and prudence of the consul Fabius, justly surnamcd Maximus, who found the true secret of weakening the Carthaginians and wearing out the spirits of their leaders, by avoiding a general engagement. An army at a distance from the source of its supplies, and in a hostile country, must act with unremitting vigor — or perish. The Syracusans having broken their alliance with Rome, and taken part wid) the Carthaginians, Marcellus, who, previous to the disaster of Cannrr, had defeated Hannibal before Nola, in Campania, being at this time pro-consul in Sicily, formed the design of besieging Syracuse. This, however, was found a more difllcult enterprise than had been expected. The genius of a single man was found sunicicnl to withstand for a gieat length of time the utmost elForts of an ene- my by sea and land. This extraordinary man was Arrhimcdos. It is pity that the ancient authors who have minutely detailed the prodit^ious effects of those machin(^s which he constructed, and sc succesifully employed in this remarkable siege, have given ac- counts 30 obscure and im|ierfeft of their construction. The city was twenty-two miles in compass, and was conipletely dcfiMidod at every point, both on the quarter of ...e land and sea. The Ro- man Heet consisted of sixty galleys of five; banks of oars, and an immense number of smaller vessels. These were manned with archers, slingers, and engineers, who worked the halistn- and cata- pulta erected on their decks. Marcellus caused eight galleys to be joined together laterally by iron chains, and on their surface, as a foundation, an immense tower was erected, whose height overtopped the walls of the city. This huge machine, which Marcellus called his Sambuca, or Dulcimer, was slowly advancinj^, 37G UMVEUSAL iir.srouy. [book hi rowed by a great number of men, when Arcbliuedcs discharged from one of his engines a stone of 1250 pounds, weiglit, then a second, and immediately afterwards a third, with a direction so sure as to batter the galleys and the tower to pieces in a few min- tjtes. An immense artillery of darts, stones, burning torches, and every material of annoyance, was incessantly laniichcd upon the besiegers from every quarter of the walls; while the n)achines from W'hicb they issued were altogether beyond their reach and even out of their sight. It was of no avail whether they made their attack from a distance or close to the walls. If within the shot of a bow, the engines of Archimedes assailed the galleys with stones of such weight as entirely to demolish them; if they a))proached the walls, they were seized by cranes and grappling irons, suspended in the air, and suddenly let fall with a force that sunk them. Taking ad- vantage of a meridian sun, and concentrating the rays by a combi- nation of polished metal, this wonderful engineer burnt the vessels of the enemy at a furlong's distance — * thus, in the words of an old writer, making even the fire of heaven obedient to his com- mands. f Such, says Plutarch, became at length the terror of the Roman soldiers at this almost supernatural warfare, that if any man saw the smallest piece of cord or wood making its appearance above the walls, he instantly took to flight, crying out to his com- panions that they were to be overwhelmed in a moment by some tremendous power. But the peseverance of the Romans prevailed at length over the valor of the Syracusans and the genius of Archimedes. In the third year of the siege the city was carried by surj)rise. Marcel- "lus took advantage of a great festival which the Syracusans cele- brated in honor of Diana, and in the dead of night, while the sen- tinels were sunk in sleep after a deep debauch, scaling the walls at the same moment in several different quarters, the Romans were in possession of a great part of the town before the Syracu- sans W'Cre aware of their danger. Marcellus wished to save this great and sj)lendid city from destruction, and sent proposals to the garrison of the citadel for a surrender on terms sullicienily moder- ate and humane. But these were not immediately embraced, as *Some of the moderns have questioned the authenticity of the accounts pivcn by ancient writers of the wonderful niacliines of Archimedes, and pnrticulr.ily of that apparatus of mirrors by which it is snid he burnt the enemy's shi|)s (see Descartes, Dioptric. Disc, viii., Fonteiielle, GEuvres, tS:c.) ; but the more jreneral opinion of men of science is in favor of their credibility. ISI. de Buffun construc- ted a burninir-glass composed of KJS plain mirrors, which set fire to wood nl tlie distance of '2o;j feet, and melted lead at the distance of 120. Leibnitz did ju.stice to this great jjenius among the ancients when he said " Qui Archimedem in- tellefjit, recent iorum summorum virorum inventa parcius mirabitur;" and Dr. Wailis, speaking of Archimedes, terms him, '"Vir stiipendre sagacitatis. qui prima fundamenla posuil inventionum fere omnium, de quibiis promovendis telas nostra gloriatur. See Dutens's Inquiry into the Discoveries of tlie Moderns, pa-* iii ch. U). 12. t Eustath. ad. Iliad. E ' «», C. 208. J FALL or C.VRTUACiiNA. ^77 ihe garrison expected a relief ; ami tlie Roman general, apprehen- sive of that issue, was rehictaiuly compelled to use the riu,iii.s of a conqueror, and abandoned the city to the plunder of the soldiery. Still, however, his clemency was conspicuous, for he left the gales open for the escape of all who chose to save their lives oy flight. It had been happy if Archimedes had availed himself of this permission ; but the philosopher was busy in his closet with a geometrical demonstration, when a soldier, plundering his ho.ise, killed him on the spot. Marcellus erected a monument to his memory, and took a humane and generous charge of all liis kindred. The kingdom of Syracuse uas now added to the Roman pro- vince in Sicily, which already comprehended the greater part of that island. While the war in Italy against the troops of Hannibal was in the meantime successfully spun out to their destruction, by ih»» great Fabiiis, the younger Scipio, who had succeeded his father as pro-consul in Spain, accomplished the reduction of that peninsula. The taking of Carthagena (Carthago nova) was a fatal blow to the enemy. It was the most opulent of the foreign ports, and llje Romans found, besides great treasures, an immense magazine of military stores, which had been lodged there as in a depot fur the conquest of Italy. Meantime Asdrubal had passed the vMps, wiili a powerful army, to the assistance of his brother Hannibal. But ilie consul Claudius Nero, coming upon him by surprise in a disadvantageous situation, into wiiich he had been led by the treachery of his guides, engaged and entirely defeated him. Asdrubal was killi'd in battle, and Claudius, marchini^ to meet Hannibal, gave him tin; first in- telligence of the defeat by throwing his brother's heail into nis camp. This Carthaginian oflicer, though thus iniforiunate, had a very high character as a general. Had Asdrul)al been successful in this engagement, and efTected a junction widi his brother, it Ij extremely probable that every thing must have given way before them in Italy. But the defeat of that great army and the death of their header, threw a gloom of despondency on all the prospeclu of Haniiil)al, nnd gave new life and courage to the Ron)ans. Scipio, triuni|)hant in Spain, now passed into Afiica, and carricil havoc and devastation even to the gales of Caril^me. Alarmed for the fate of their empire, the Carthaginians recalled Hannibal from Italy, where of late he had made no progress. The balile of Zama, in Africa, decided the fale of the war. Twenty thou- sand Carthaginians were slain in the field, and an eipial nninber taken prisoners. The loss of tlie Rouians did not e.xcceil two thousaiul. Hannibal himself with dillicMlty e^raped from the field, and arriving at Carthage, represenied air;iirs in so desperate a poinl of view, that it was immedintely resolved to sue for peace. Il was granted by Scipio on these conditions — thai the Carihaginiati VOL. I. 43 .'^8 UNIVKKS.VI. IIISTOKV. [lIOOK JII should abnndon Spain and Sicily, together with all the islands lying between Iiiily and Africa; that tlioy should make restiiuiion of all prisoners and deserters, give up all their ships, except ten galleys and pay wiliiin the term of fjfiy years, ten thousand talents; and, lastly, that they shoidd undertake no war without the consent of the Romans. Such was the conclusion of the Sef;ond Punic war, ended thus gloriously for Rome, and most honorably for Publius Scipio, to whom his country decreed a splendid triumph, distin- guishing him ever afterwards by the surname of Africanus. Every thing now concurred to swell the pride of the Romans .md to extend their power. A vast increase of wealth had flowed into Rome from the late conquests. Their recent continued vic- tories, and the plunder they derived from them, inflamed theii appetite for fresh acquisitions. It was no longer that petty nation occupying a part of Italy whom we have sGen for centuries waging an insignificant war with the tribes which surrounded them; it was a people which began to aspire at the sovereignty of the world. In this disposition it was not surprising that they should eagerly embrace every opportunity which offered of extending their con- quests. We have seen, in treating of the last period of the Grecian history, that Philip II. of Macedon, harassed the Greek states with frequent attacks uiion their territories. They complained to the Romans, who immediately declared war against the Macedo- nian. Philip was defeated, and was glad to purchase a peace by paying a thousand talents, and giving his son Demetrius as a hostage. The kingdom of Syria was, at this time, the most powerful branch of the empire of Alexander; but ruined in its domestic policy by the foolish wars of ihe princes of the family of Seleucus, it was in a state of disorder and anarchy. Antiochus, the prince on the throne, had provoked the indignation of the Romans by opposing their arms in Greece, and giving an asylum to Hannibal, then an exile from Carthage. Antiochus was defeated near Ther- mopylae, and pursued by the two Scipios into his own kingdom of Syria, where after various losses, he was reduced to the necessity of concluding a peace on the most humiliating terms. He agreed to pay fifteen thousand talents as the expenses of the war, to abandon all his possessions in Europe, and to cede to the Romans the whoie of Asia to the west of Taurus, that is, the whole coun- try from the borders of Mesopotamia and Armenia to the ^Egean Sea. The Romans, with much meanness, demanded as another condition, that Antiochus should give up Hannibal into their hands; but the Carthaginian had made his escape on the first intelligence that a treaty was in agitation. The younger Scipio (Lucius) was honored on this occasion with the surname of Asiaticus, as the elder brother Publius had gained that of Afri- canus. These Asiatic conquests were, in a moral point of view, mucb, B. C. 187."! SCIPIO AFHICANLS — CATO. 379 more prejudicial than advantageous to llie Romans. Their simple and austere manners began gradually to relax, and they acciuired a relish for luxurious enjoynienis. This change in the manners of his countrymen roused the virtuous indignation of Cato the censor, the determined enemy of every species of luxury and corruption. At the time when Haiiiiihal was ravaging Italy, and when the Roman state had tlie strongest motive to retrench all superfluous expenses, a sumptuary statute, called the Oppian law, was passed, which prohibited the women from the use of gold in their ornaments, beyond tlie quantity of half an ounce, and froni wearing garments of dificrent colors, and likewise interdicted the use of chariots. At the end of the Second Punic war the Roman ladies used all their influence to have this law repeah^d, urging that the motive for its enactment no longer existed. So earnest were they in iheir piwpose, that, forgetting that modest reserve which is their sex's highest ornamen', they rushed out into the streets, and besetting every avenue to tiie forum, laid hold of the men as they passed, and endeavored, both by clamor and by blandishments, to engage their votes for the abrogation of this odious statute. It was no wonder that the rigid virtue of old Cato, then consul, was inflamed with indignation at this spectacle. He poured forth an animated oration on the occasion, but in a tone of keen irony which the greater part of his auditors judged too severe; for the obnoxious law was repealed by a majority of sufirages. Much more justifiable on this occasion was the severity of Cato than on another which occurred soon after. He incited two of the tribunes, the Petilii, to bring a formal accusation against Scipio Africanus, as guilty of peculation in converting large sums gained in his foreign conquests to his own instead of the public use. The behavior of Scipio on this occasion was consonant to the magna- nimity of his cliaracter. On the first day of his citation before the assembly of the people, when his accusation was read, appear- ing not to have listened to it, he entered into an ample detail of all the illustrious services he had rendered his country. His ac- cusers made no reply, not daring to controvert a single word which he had uttered; but contented themselves with adjourning the issembly to the next day. On the morrow, while an immense multitude crowded the forum, Scipio pressed forward to the tribu- nal, and making a signal for silence, *' My countrymen," said he, " it was on this very day that I fought bravely for you against Hannibal and the Carthaginians in the field of Zama, and gained a glorious victory. Is it thus vou celel)r3te that anniversary? Come, let us repair instantly to the capitol, and give our solemn thanks to all the gods for the republic preserved through my means." With one universal acclamation, the whole muliitudo followed him while he led the way to the temple of Jupiter — and the tril)unes were left alone in the foruu). Tho ix'r.sisied, how- 380 UMVEIISAL mSTOKV. [iJOO/i III over, ill appoinling a lliird day for the trial; but Scipio jjaidno regard to tiiu summons, and ilie tribunes ibcmselves, ciiber asham- ed of tiieir conduct or convinced that the trial must terminate to their own disadvantage and an increase of honor to the accused, thought proper lo drop the prosecution. The illustrious Africanus died soon after, in peaceful retirement at his country scat of Lin- ternum. There is, perhaps, no stronger testimony to the simjjlicity and integrity of this great man than what is recorded of him by Cicero, that when in the country and free from the cares of public life, he cojld amuse himself even with the pastimes of children. In the second book, De Oratore^ is this beautiful passage: " I have been often told (says Crassus) by my father-in-law, that his kins- man Laelius and the great Scipio were frequently wont to fly from the bustle of the town lo a quiet retreat in the country, and there to employ themselves in sports that were childish lo a degree be- yond all belief. Nay, though I should hardly venture to tell it of such men, yet Scaevola assured me that when they were at Cajeta and on the banks of the Lucrine, they were wont to pass their time in gadiering shells and pebbles on the shore, and in every sort of frolic and amusement, just as the liille birds fly about in wanton circles when they have finished the- task of building their nests and providing for their young."* Why should Cicero feel asham- ed, or apologize for mentioning this anecdote, which in reality does so much honor to the persons of whom it is recorded? No force of words, no pompous eulogium, could convey to us so just an idea, so convincing a proof, of the virtuous simplicity of those men or the probity of their minds, as this beautiful picture. The man who feels the stings of an evil conscience, whose soul is a prey to the turbulent passions of avarice or criminal ambition, can never thus taste pleasure in the sports of innocence. He will seek to drown the reflections of his mind in violent gratifications, and in the intoxication of sensual enjoyments. Seneca has added his testimony to the virtues of the great Scipio in these words : *' I write this letter from Llnternum, the villa of Scipio Africanus; I reverence his shade, and pay my veneration to thai little altar :vhich I have erected to his memory on the very spot where, as I * Saepe ex socero meo audivi, c«m is dicerel, socerum suum Lselium serr por Cerit cum Scipione solitum rusticari ; eosque incrcdibilitcr repuerasceic esse Bolitos, cum riis ex urlie tanquam ex vincnlis evolavissent. Mon atideo dinere de talibiis viris, sed tamen ita solet narrare Scaevola, coiiclias eos et umbilicos ad Cajelam et ad Lucrinum leo-ere consiiesse, et ad omiiein animi remisSionem ludumque desccndero. Sic eiiim se res habet ; ul quemadiiiodnm volucres videmus procreationis atque utilitatis sure causa fin^cre et construere nidos" ea??dem aiilem, cum aliquid effccerint, liEvandi laboris sui causa, passim ao liberc solulas opcre volitare : &,c. — Cic. de Oratore. lib. ii. c. C. B. C 180] DEATH OF PHILIP II. OF MACCDO.V S81 conjecture, he lies biirierl. His soul, I am confident, luis returned to that heaven from which it came."* The younger Scipio (Asiaticiis) was soon after impeached for the same crime which had been matter of accusation against his brother. The tribunes, it seems, were determined to have at least one victim from that ilhistrious house of the Cornelii. lie was condemned to pay a heavy fine, as is generally believed, upon false evidence; for when his whole property was seized, his poverty disproved the calumnious accusation, and the senate decreed him a high recompense for the injury he had sustained. In these instances, the zeal of Cato, though doubtless proceeding from a virtuous motive, was carried to a most blamable excess. The only apology that can be made for it is the shocking pro- fligacy of manners of which his own times furnished a striking exam|)le in that society which was known by the name of the Bacchanalian. Under the pretence of a religious institution in honor of Bacchus, a vast number of both sexes and of all ranks, associated themselves in a mysterious combination bound to secrecy by tremendous oaths. They held their meetings at midnight, five times every month, and promiscuously indulged in every species of debauchery, and even in the commission of the most atrocious crimes : for the youth of either sex whom they trepanned to their abominable purposes, if unwilling victims, usually paid the forfeit of life. A freed woman, anxious for the safety of her lover, dis- closed the mysteries to the consul, Postumius, and to him and to his colleague, the senate committed full power to take every ne- cessary measure for the detection and punishment of all concerned in this horrid association, both in Rome and in the other cities of Italy. The number was found to exceed seven thousand. Of these the most guilty were capitally punished ; others betook them- selves to voluntary banishment ; and not a few, from conscious guilt and the terror of punishment, laid violent hands on them- selves. The senate passed a solemn decree that henceforward no individual should presume to offer a sacrifice to Bacchus, at which more than five persons assisted, without a previous permission granted by their body in full assembly.! The attention of Rome was called ofi' from her domestic con- cerns by the disorders of INIacedonia. Perseus, the elder son ol" Philip II., had poisoned the car of his father by false accusations of his younger brother Demetrius, who had successfully negoti- ated a peace with the Romans, and whom he artfully represented as cherishing a design of dethronmg his father and supplanting * In ipsa Scipioniij African! villa jarrns, Im'C srrihn ; nflnintis rj\i« manil>in el arA, qiiain srpulchrum esse tanli viri mispicor. Aniimitn quidem ejus in cerium, ex quo oral, rodiisse persuadoo niihi. — Sciicc. Episl. 80. t A very interesting account of these matters is given by Livy, lil>. xxs'it c. 8 el spq. 382 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [koOK III himself in the sovereignty of Macccioiiia. Philip, then in hw dotage, hstcnccl to these infamous surmises, and cruelly put De- metrius to death hy poison. Tortured Jjy remorse, he sunk into profound melancholy, and died a short time after. Among the first acts of the administration of Perseus was an alliance with several of the Grecian states to make war against the Romans. We have already, in treating of the Grecian history, seen the issu6 of this war in the total defeat of Perseus, uho was brought captive to Ronie to adorn the triumph of Paulus ^Emilius, and in the reduc- tion of Macedonia, which now became a province of the Roman empire. A few years after this time began the Third Punic war, which terminated in the destruction of Carthage. Massinissa, king of Numidia, who at the time of Scipio's great successes in Africa had become the ally of the Romans, was the cause of this war. The Numidians had seized some territories belonging to Carthage ; and a war ensued, in which the Carthaginians were much weak- ened. The son of Massinissa, a barbarian in every sense, slaugh- tered in cold blood 58,000 of the Carthaginians after they had laid down their arms. The Romans with great meanness laid hold of that season of calamity to declare war, and their subse- quent conduct was equally infamous and disgraceful. The Car- thaginians, weakened and dispirited, conscious of their utter ina- bility to withstand this formidable power, made the most humble submission, offering even to acknowledge themselves the subjects of Rome. The senate promised to show them every degree of favor, on condition that they should perform what the consuls re- quired of them, and send three hundred hostages of high rank as a security of that obligation. With natural reluctance, but unsus- picious of treachery, they gave this great pledge, and sent the hostages to Rome. A consular army immediately landed in Africa, and there required, in a solemn manner, that the Carthaginians should give up all the arms and military stores contained in theii magazines. "-You are now," said they, " under the protection of the Romans, and have no need of arn)s." In vain they urged, that they were surrounded by enemies, and needed them for their defence. All remonstrance was ineffectual, and they were obliged to submit. The most infernal treachery followed. Bereft of arms, the Carthaginians were in no condition to refuse wh.alever terms should be proposed. They sent deputies to the Roman camp, to know what had been the determination of the senate with regard to their late. They were now informed by the consul that it was finally resolved that they should abandon their city, which the senate had decreed should be rased to its founda- tions ; but that they were to be allowed to build on any other part of their territory, provided it was at ten miles' distance from the sea. The amazement and affliction with which these orders were received, are not to be described. The deputies threw B. C. 14G.] DESTRUCTION OF CARTHAGE. 383 ri)emsclves upon tlie ground, shed tears like children, and endeav ored by every motive of compassion and argument o^ reason lo prevail on the consul to depart from this inhuman resolution. But all was in vain. The deputies were ordered instantly to return to Carthage, and to intimate the final determination of the Romans, and the necessity for an immediate compliance. Despair and frenzy seized the inhabitants of the city upon thij fatal intelligence. They prej)ared for a frantic exertion of re.iijl- ance, unanimously resolving that death only should separate them from the temples and altars of their gods, the dwellings of their fathers, and the lands of their nativity. Orders were immediately gnen to barricade the gates of the city ; every hand was active in preparation for defence. Arms were formed from every male- rial whiih could supply them ; the women parted with their orna- ments of precious metal, and even cut oiV their hair to form bow- strings. The temples and palaces of the city were turned into workhouses for the fabrication of military engines ; the men worked night and day without intermission, the wonien bringing their vict- uals at stated hours, and assisting themselves in every labor lo which their strength was equal. The Royians now found thai they had to do with a people who would defend themselves lo the last extremity. Asdrubal, the nephew of Hannibal, whom the Carthaginians had imprisoned for insulting the Romans, was now called lo laKe the chief command of the forces of his country ; and in a despe- rate engagement he would have cut lo pieces the Roman army, had it not been for a masterly stroke of Scipio j^^milianus,* who covered their retreat while they fled across the river. The nierit of Scipio was so conspicuous on this occasion, ihat at Rome he was unanimously chosen consul, though he was but thirty-seven years of age, and the age required by law for that high ollice was forty-three. He was likewise invested with the sole connnand of the African war, a charge which he soon fulfilled by reducing the Carthaginians to such extremity ihat they offered to submit lo any conditions, provided only their city might be preserved. But this condition Scipio had it not in his pow(?r lo grant. In a strong as- sault on one of the gates, he l)rok(! it down, and entering with a arge force penetrated to the citadel, which sustained a siegt; of several days, while ihe Romans were in |)ossession of the town. At length it was surrendered. Sripio, unwilling to destroy liiis ])ioud and splendid capital, sent lo Rome for ftuiher orders. But these contained no mercy for Carthage. The city was set fire to in many different quarters. Pillage, carnage, and desolation ensued. The couHa^ration lasted for seventeen days. At the * The son of ^T!iniliu3 Piiul'js, nnd, bv adoption, the grandson of Scipio Afri canus 501 UMvr.nsAi, nisTouy. [hook hi recilal of n srcnn of lliis kind, it is impossible to restrain our iiidis- natioti, and ikjI lo excerale lliat barbarous policy wliieb |jrescribe3 a conduct so contrary to every worthy feeling of the buinaii mind. Thus ended the ill-fated Carthage, in the G07th year from the building of Rome, and the HGth before the Christian era. The same year was remarkable for the destruction of Corinth, and the entire extinction of the liberties of Greece. It had for some time been the policy of the Romans to keep up divisions among the diflerent states, and thus artfully to substitute them- selves as umpires in their quarrels, or excite them to weaken and destroy each other. The Achaians, as we have seen, furnished the chief obstacle to the accomplishment of their design, and obliged them to resort to force in order to reduce them to submis- sion. Meiellus, the j)raetor, began the war, which was terminated by Mummiiis, the consul, who took Corinth by storm and utterly destroyed it. Greece was immediately afterwards reduced to a Roman province, under the name of Achaia. This was the era of the commencement of a tasie for the fiiw arts at Rome, to which the knowledge of Asiatic luxuries had suc- cessfully paved the way. " How happy for mankind," says Abbe Millot, " could a nation be distinguished at once for its virtue and its refinement, and become polished and enlightened while it re- 'amed a purity of morals !" But this is a beautiful impossibility BOOK THE FOUTxTH. CHAPTER ;. Sedition of the Gracchi — Cornplia, mother of tlie Gracchi — C'riniinal ambitioa of Jugurtha — The Romans do-clare war ajjainst him, under Mett'lliis and Ma- rius — Death of Ju^rurlha — Invasion of the Cimbri — rrogressi of corruption in the Republic — Livius Drnsus's projects of Reform — The Si>cial War—Ori- gin of the civil War — Rivalsiiip of Mariiis and Svlla — War with .Milhridalri — Marius and Cinna — Sylla obtains absolute authority — His proscription* His salutary Reforms — He resigns the Dictatorship — Lepidiis defeated ana slain — Pompey distinfjuishes himself — Luculhis's war a^'ainst Mithridateit — He is superseded by Poinpey — Conspiracy of Catiline — Kxtent of the denijjn — Punishment of the Conspirators — Catiline is killed in battle — Ambitiou" designs of Julius Cffisar — First triumvirate — Agrarian Law — Cu-sir'n increaw of power — His design for the removal of Cicero — Cicero's pusillanimous con- duct—He goes into Exile — His Kstates confiscated — Ciesar's Military Kx ploits in Gaul — P.jmpey procures the recall of Cicero — Death of Craasus, and rivalship of Ponipey and Cffisar. The Romans, as we have seen, had now, within t!ie ppriod of a very few years, accompHshcd the total destruction of the Cartha- ginian empire, the most formidable rival of their power, and had added to their own dominion Spain, Sicily, Macedonia, Grt*«'ce, and a large portion of A.=;ia. Tiiese immense conquests, while they aggrandized the Roman name and dilRi-^'d the terror of their arms over a great ^art of the globe, introdnccd Ht home ihu( cor- ruption which is the consequence of wealth, and that luxury which consumes the patriotic spirit. Disorders now arose in the com- monweaiih which imdermined its constitution, and ultimately, anil even by rapid steps, accomplished its destruction. At this period arose Tiberius and Cains Gracchus — two brothers, of plebeian blood by their father's side, but ennobled by civic hon- ors — and on their mother's side, by descent from the illustrious Scipio Africanus. Their mother, Cornelia, was wont to siimulnle their ambition by this generous reproach : "Why, nty sons, intisi I ever be called the daughter of Scipio, rather than the mother ol the Gracchi ?" Tdierius, the elder, had borne the chare of Quaestor in Bjiain ; and, being called to account with threat severity by the senate upon his return, he conceived a J'i^h nniuiosity against that body, and a strong jiredileclion in fa'.c: «-•* 'he pojiu- vol,. I. 40 :i8G u.vivERsvi, H.sroRV. [noijrc iv lar uitorost in llic stale. On tliat side, fio cnncoivod, lay lii.s path of ainbilioii ; and ilie corniptions in tli(? higher order, from their overgrown fortunes, contrasted with tlie indigence and hardships of the lower class, afforded a plausible, and in some measure a just pretence for a corrective of that inequality. Tiberius possessed every accomplishment for a popular leader ; a bold and intrepid mind, inflexible jierseverance, and a nervous and copious elocution. An enthusiast by nature, it is not improb- able, however warped by prejudice, that he had actually per- suaded himself that his views were virtuous and patriotic. Being elected a tribune of the jieople, his first measure was to propose ihe revival of an ancient statute, the Licinian law, which pro- hibited any Roman citizen from possessing above five hundred jugera, or about two hundred and sixty acres of land. To conci- liate the rich to this restitution, the superfluous land in their pos- session was to be paid for, at a just price, from the treasury of the state, and distributed in certain proportions to the poor. The patri- cians, as might have been expected, opposed this measure with keen and indignant zeal ; and, according to their customary policy, gained over to their side Octavius, one of the tribunes, and by this means secured a veto. The proposition would otherwise have been car- ried by a great majority in the assembly of the tribes. Tiberius, enraged at this disappointment, now adopted a measure equally violent and unconstitutional. The veto of the tribunes, vviiich was the surest guard of the popular interest, had ever been re- spected as a sacred authority. Tiberius was resolved to render It vain and nugatory. He immediately proposed that Octavius should be deprived of his tribuneship. It was in vain that every sound patriot saw the illegality of this proposal, and remonstrated against it as fatal to the constitution. Octavius was deposed by a majority of suffrages, and the revival of tlie Licinian law was carried with a triumphant hand. Stimulated by this first success, the zeal of Tiberius now medi- tated another blow against the aristocracy. He procured a law to be passed, which decreed that the treasures bequeathed to tht republic by Attalus, king of Pergamus, and which the senate had hitherto administered for state purposes, should be fairly accounted for and distributed among the poorer citizens ; and, as the term of his own tribunate was about to expire, he solicited to be continued in the office for another year, that he might bring to a conclusion his important plan of reform. Even the populace themselves, who had hitherto supported him, were aware of the illegality of this measure, which tended directly to establish an arbitrary authority in the state, without lim- itation of period. On the day of election the assembly was ill attended, and the first tribes which were called to vote gave their suffrage against Tiberius. His friends adjourned the assembly til next day ; and in the interval Tiberius with his children walked B ' i^J THE GRACCHI .197 ine^ streets in mournlnf^, requesting protertion from the people against the designs of the patricians, who, as he said, threatened his life. On the following day a tumult arose in the assembly of the people, between the opposite parties. The senators broke up their meeting, and repaired in a body to the forum, followed by an immense crowd of the young patricians armed with clubs and staves, i Derius, apprehensive of his danger, endeavored to escape with v»recipitation, his friends following his example; but f:illin.' down »n the throng, he was assailed by many hands, and slain upon the spot. About three hundred of his "followers met with the same fate, and their dead bodies were flung into the Tyber. Whether the views of Tiberius Gracchus were truly disinter ested, and the result of real though misguided patriotism, or whether a criminal ambition was their motive, as his oj)ponen!s strongly reported, is a question which cannot be with certainty resolved. A strong presumption against him arises from this cir- cumstance, that his brother-in-law, Scij)io -^milianus, and his cousin Scipio Nasica, who was actually instrumental in his death, were of the latter opinion. Scipio ^milianus, a man of strict virtue and enlightened patriotism, exerted all his powers to quell those dissensions between the senate and people, which he saw the carrying the Licinian law into execution would inevi(a!)ly tend tc exasperate to the hazard of all civil order. The consc(juence of his generous endeavors was, that he was found dead in his bed. Some years afterwards, Caius Gracchus, unintimidatcd by his brother's fate, pursued the same steps which had brought him to destruction. Being elected tribime, he took every measure for a strict enforcement of the Licinian law, which hml hiihcrto been executed with great remissness. He procured the revival of an obsolete statute, which prohibit-^d the capital punishment of any citizen without the concurring sanction of the senate and jieople ; and with the view of extending his pojiiilarity bfyoiid the bounds of Rome, he proposed a law by which the right of citiz'-nship sh Mild be conferred on all the inhabitants of the Roman territories within the bounds of Italy; with an additional enactment, that whoever claimed the right of citizen, if cast by the censors, might appeal to the j)opular asseniMy. These measures, as may be supposed, gave great disgust to the aristocracy, who, it is jilain, were at this time the real supporters of the Roman constitution. But the measure which above every other tended to exasperate the senators against Caius, was an in- quir}- which he set on foot into the corru|)iions of their body, in which he so far prevailed, that a law was passed depriving that assembly of all concern in the administration of justice, and de- claring that in future the civil jiidgcs should be exclusively clioscn from the oricr of knights; an act which the senate justly regarded 338 UNivEnsAi. history. [book iv. not only as a deep insult lo their body, but as a fatal blow to tlie constitution of the state. In the view of conntcractinc; these most daiigfrous innovations, and of nndermining the )M)ucr of the deniagogue, the party of the senate and patricians set up Livius Drusus, a young man of uncommon abilities, for whom they procured the office of tribune, and instructed him lo supj)lant the influence of Caius by affecting a stdl more ardent zeal for the popular interest. They despatched Caius at the same time on a mission to Africa to rebuild the city of Carthage. His absence diminished the number of his parti- sans and increased those of Livius. At his return, he thought te regain his ground by soliciting a renewed aj)poinlment to the tribu- nate, but was mortified by a rejection of his pretensions. Opi- iiiius, a man whom he knew to be his determined enemy, was elected to the consulate, and every thing tended to convince him that his poj)ularity was fast declining. It is said that his mother, Cornelia, warned him in passionate terms lo escape, by a change of conduct, ihe fate of his elder brother; but he was deaf to her remonstrances. In a meeting of the Comitia, his partisans having come armed to the forum, a tumult ensued, in which one of them stabbed a lictor of the consul with his poniard; a most furious con- flict followed, in which Caius Gracchus, together with about three thousand of the popular party, were massacred in the streets of Rome. Such was the fate of the Gracchi, men endowed by nature wiiL those talents which, properly directed, might have conduced to the happiness and aggrandizement of their country; but either the vie tims of a criminal ambition, or precipitated by an intemperance ot democratic zeal into measures subversive of all civil order, the) perished as the disturbers of the public peace. There is no female character on whom the ancient writers have lavished more praise than on Cornelia, the mother of Gracchi, ot whose greatness of mind under the severest misfortunes they speak in tei'ms of the highest eulogy. She had ^een the funerals of twelve of her children, the last of whom were Tiberius and Caius Gracchus. While her friends were lamenting her misfor- tunes, "Call not me unfortunate," said she; "I shall never cease to think myself a happy woman, who have been the mother of (he Gracchi."* Imprudent and dangerous for themselves as she Tiust have thought the conduct of her sons, she most naturally leemed it the result of real virtue and patriotism. Plutarch in- * " Cornelia duodecim parttis totidem fiineribus recogno'lt ; et de cceteris facile est, quos nee editos nee amissos civitas sensit. Tiberiuin et Caium Gracclmni, quos etiam qui bonos viros negaverit, niatrnos falebitur, et occisos vidit et inse- pultos. Consolanlibns tamen, miseramque dicentibns. nunquam, inquit, non feli cein ine dicain quce Gracchos peperi.' — Senec. C( iisol. ad Marc ,c. 16. B. C. 111.] JUGURTIIA. 533 forms us that she spent llie remaining years of her life in a \ illa, near Misenum, visited, respected, and beloved by the most uuu- nent men, both Greeks and Romans, and honon.-d by intercliang- ing presents even with foreign princes. Her (•on\ ersaiion was delightful when she recounted anecdotes of her father Africanus . but all were astonished when she spoke freely of her sons, «)| their great deeds and their untimely fate, and this without ever shedding a tear. " It was thought by some," continues Plutarch, "that the pressure of age and misfortune had deadened her ma- ternal feelings ; but they (he adds) who were of that weak opin- ion, were ignorant that a superior mind, enlightened by a libenil education, can rise above all the calamities of life ; and that though fortune may sometimes opjjress virtue, she cannot deprive her of that serenity and resolution which never forsake her in the day of adversity." The universal corruption that now prevailed at Rome was in nothing more conspicuous than in a celebrated event which hap- pened at this time. The old king Massinissa, whom we have mentioned as an ally of the Romans at the time of the first inva- sion of Africa by Scipio, left three sons, who jointly governed Numidia ; till, by the death of his brothers, Mici[)sa remauied sole master of the kingdom. Tliis prince, tlioui;h he had two sons, Adherbal and Iliempsal, adopted his nephew Jugurtha, a young man of promising talents, whose friendship he weakly thought to secure for his cousins by giving him an equal share with them of his dominions. No sooner was Micipsa dead, than this ungrateful youth resolved to attain an undivi(ied empire by pulling tiit-m to death. Iliempsal was his first victim; and Adherbal, dn-ading a similar fate, betook himself to Rocue, to sue for justice and lo e'^reat the aid and protection of the Romans, to whom his lather hd rendered his kingdom tributary. But ihe money of Jugurilia hud been beforehand with him. He had bribed to his interest h sufficient party in the senate to procure a reference to ten commis- sioners, who were sent into Africa w ith plenary powers to decide between the contending |)arties. These, by similar policy, the traitor won to his interest ; so that they declared him innocent of the charge, and decreed lo liim the sovereignty of one half of Nu midia. Jugurtha now |)ursued his schemes for the dcstrut-tion ol Adhei4jal, and, openly declaring war, besieged him in llie town of Cirtha. The Romans sent their deputies lo put a slop to .such culpable proceedings ; but these, like the foruier commissioners, were not proof against corruption. Adherbal was obligt-d to capit- ulate and throw himsiilf on the mercy of Jugurtha, by wht)m he was immediately put to death. These (lagraut enormities, which called loud for vengeance, con- tmued yet to meet with shameful palliation in the Roman senate ; but the Roman people were not bribed ; and iheir cri«'s for jusiiro at length cwmpi lied the rulers of the republic to dcclaro war 3!)0 UNivKRSAr. insToiiv. (book iv agaiiisi Jugiirtlia. In llio interval of a tnice, lliis traitor appeared in pciisoii at Rome, and had the coiifideiice to justify his profood- ings ill full seiialo ; where, as before, he had so lavishly bestowed his money as to insure his acquittal. A conlinnaiicc, however, of the same conduct excited at length the utmost indignation of the Romans, and Melellus, the consul, was sent against him, at the head of a large army. Metellus chose for his lieutenant the celebrated Marius, a man of mean birth, who possessed great military talents and the utmost personal intrepidity, but wilii a total want of every generous and virtuous principle. Instigated by ambition, and bound by no ties of gratitude to the man who had raised him from obscurity, he sought leave to go to Rome, and there represented the conduct of Metellus in so unfavorable a point of view, and talked so plausibly of what he could himself have done in the same situation, that he gained the people to his interest, was elected to the consulate, and obtained the charge of prosecuting the war against Jugurtha. Metellus, though in the train of success, being thus superseded, returned to Rome, where a just sense of his services prevailed over every injurious impression, and he was decreed the honor of a triumph. But JMarius with all his military abilities, was obliged to employ treachery to finish the Jugurthan war. The perfidious character of Jugurtha justified, as he thought, a similar policy in his enemy. Sylla, then acting as qua;stor to Marius, seduced Bocchus, king of Mauritania, the father-in-law of Jugurtha, from his alliance ; and that prince, to purchase peace with the Romans, delivered up Jugurtha into their hands. He was brought to Rome in chains, and» after gracing the triumph of Marius, was thrown into a dun- geon and starved to death. The Romans were at this time under a serious alarm from the barbarous nations, who, pouring down from the northern parts of Europe, suddenly made their appearance in a countjess host e?eu upon the frontiers of Italy. This horde of savages, who were said to amount to more than 300,000 men in arms, attended w th their women, children, and cattle, were known by the name of Cimbri ; but there is no certainty of the precise country from which they migrated. The consul Papirius Carbo was despatched to Illyricum to oppose their progress, but with inadequate force ; for they overwhelmed his army like a tempest. They fought in a dense and solid mass, of which the foremost ranks were chained together by their girdles. Had this torrent forced its way across the Rhaetian Alps into Italy,, it is hard to say what might have been the fate of the Roman empire; but fortunately they chose a different course, and dissipated the alarm for a time by passing onward through the southern Gaul to the vicinity of the Pyrenees. The diversion of the barbarous Cimbri to the quarter of Spain gave only a temporary respite to the Roman arms. They began E C. lOG.] MAUIUS 33\ 10 oveirim the Roman Province in Gaul in separate larze l-odies, passing from the southward to tlie neighborhood of the Rhine and the banks of the Danube. In one large body, they poured down b'f the passes of Carinihia, or the valley of Trent, to joir another detachment on the banks of the Po. Marins, now in his fourth consulate, had for his special department the province of Gaul, and consequently the charge of opposing these invaders, who, from the cautious movements of the Roman army, now began to insult them as a dastardly foe that durst not meet them in tho field. Marins signally displayed his talents as a general by attack- ing these separate divisions, while thi^y had spread themselves over the country, intent solely on ravage and plunder. In one cam- paign 200,000 of the barbarians were slain in the field, and 90,000 taken prisoners, among whom was Teutobocchus, one of their kings. In another engagement on the Po, the remainder of this savage horde was entirely destroyed. The popularity of Marius, from this great success, procured his election to the consulate for the fifth time, and the honors of a triuni|)h. The plunder of Jugurtha's kingdom brought a new accession of wealth to the Romans. They now found not only their ambition gratified by their extensive conquests, but their appetite for luxury, which was daily increasing. We have seen its effects in that shameful corruption of the senate, the highest order, and the nat- tn'al guardians of the virtue of the republic. Yet even this was but the dawning of that profligacy of manners and of principli^ which, from this period, we shall see pervaded all ranks of the slate. The annals of the Roman republic now become only the history of the loaders of dilTercnt factions, who assuage their avarice, their ambition, and revenge, in the blood of their fellow citizens. Livius Drusus, as tribune of the people, involved the republic in a war with the allied states, which was a prelude to those civil wars which ended in its destruction. This tribune renewed the project of Cains Gracchus for extending to tlv,; allies the rights of citizenship. The proposition was violently combated; the allies contended that as they paid their taxes to the state, and supplied in war a great proportion of the legions, it was but just they should share the privileges of the republic as well as its burdens. On the other hand to multiply to so vast an extent the popular voles in the Comitia, and thus extend the field of corruption and the empire of tumult in all the public proceedings, appeared to involve the most ruinous conse(|uences to the state. The Roman populace itself dreaded the diminution of its influence by this admixture of aliens; * and, in r(>aliiy, the measure was cordially * The number of Ronmn citizens, which, at the lime of the cenaiis made by Servius TiiUiiis, niiiouritcd only to S'.^.OOO, had incn-nswd al ihc nunmonrpmenl of tiie Social war, to 403,000 men capable of bcariiijj arms. — Uoauf^rt, K*p Rom 1. iv. c. 4 39:2 uNivKiisAL nisTouY. [book iv suppurletl only by l!ic factions and anihilions sj)iril of iJie tribunes themselves. In ibis slate of public oj)inion, tbc fate of Drusus, who was stabbed by an unknown hand while silting in his tribu- nal, excited neither alarm nor regret. But the allies in Italy were exasperated by the opposition to their claims, and by the murder of their champion. The principal states entered into a secret league for arming in support of their pretens"ons, while a formal embassy was sent, in their joint name, to demand from the senate and people of Rome what they repre- sented as a matter of right and justice. The senate, apprized of all their preparations, sent a peremptory refusal, and ordered sev- eral legions to take the field against them, nominally headed by the consuls, but, in reality under the command of Marius, Sylla, Pompey, and Crassus, all at that time men of the highest military reputation. But even under these able generals, the success of the allies in many severe conflicts was such, that the senate thought it prudent to listen to terms, and to allow the privilege of citizen- ship to the inhabitants of such of the states as should lay down their arms and return to submission and allegiance. These con- cessions dissolved the league, and the new citizens found, after all, that their coveted privileges were of very little consequence. The senate and censors formed tliem into eight now tribes, who in the Comitia were to give their votes last, which reduced their influence to a mere trifle. § This war between Rome and her allies, thence termed the Social war, was an easy preparative for that which followed between her own citizens. To excite a civil war was, in the present situation of things, a matter of no great difficulty. It was only necessary that there should be t-wo rivals in the path of ambi- tion equally able and equally intrepid; and such men were Marius and S}lla. The former, we have seen, had raised himself from ooscuriiy by the mere force of talents. Sylla was of an illustri- ous family; he had all the talents of his rival, and yet more tinbounded ambition; his manners were engaging; he had acquired nnmcnse wealth, and he knew how to employ it with great judg- ment in rendering himself popular. His distinguished military conduct in the Social war increased the public favor; and he was elected consul, with the charge of prosecuting a war in Asi against Mithridates, king of Pontus. This prince had given the Romans the highest provocation. By the seizure of Bithynia and Cappadocia, he had encroached on the tributary states of the republic; he had seized a large part of Greece — and, by his fleet in the ^Egean Sea, had taken several ships belonging to the Romans. He had likewise authorized a general massacre, in one day, of every Roman citizen in the lesser Asia. No sooner, however, had Sylla taken the field, than the intrigues of his rival Marius, and of Sulpitius, a tribune of the people who had devoted himself to the interest of Marius, pro- B C. 88. J MARIUS — SULPITIUS. 393 r-i,ro,l his recall wliile still within the limits of Italy. II«' learned at the same time that some of his kindred haJ been murdered at Rome by the |)arty of his enemies, and suspected that a similar ^te was intended for himself. It was nccessar}', therefore, to form a bold and decisive resolution. His army, warmly attached -o their leader, had received the order for his recall with high mdignation. In an animated speech to his troops he reminded them ji ihc honors they had won under his command, and exposed in strong terms the malicious and sanguinary designs of his rival, c.nd the danger which such proceedings threatened to the common- wealth itself. He found the army disposed to implicit obedience to his commands, and he boldly proposed to lead them on to Rome. " Let us go," said they, with one voice; " lead us on to avenge the cause of oppressed liberty." Sylla accordingly led thetn on, and they entered Rome sword in hand. Marius and Sulpiiius fled with precipitation from the city. Sylla restrained his army from committing any outrage, and then, with great deliberation and without a shadow of opposition, proceeded to annul all the laws and ordinances which had passed during the administration of his rival. The senate, at his instigation, then |)ronounccd a decree which proscribed Maiius and Sulpitius as enemies of their coun- try, whom all persons were required to pursue and put to death. The consequence was, that the head of Sulpitius was soon after sent to Rome. Marius, alone, and a fugitive, was taken in the marshes of Minturna, where he had sought concealment by plung- ing himself up to the chin in water. He was sulfered to escape, and got over into Africa; where being still persecuted, and required by the Roman governor to depart from the |jrovince, " Go (said he to the messenger) and tell thy master that thou hast seen Marius sitting amidst the ruins of Carthage." Plutarch, who relates this anecdote, says that Marius meant by it to claim the compassion of the Roman pra^or, by drawing this comparison between his own lot and that of the fallen Carthage; both striking examples of the instabilily of fortune. Marius then retired with his son to a small island on the African ccjast, w here he soon after received intelligenco that a strong party had been formed at Rome in his favor, where Cinna, one of his firmest friends and partisans, had been elected to the consulate. One of the first measures of the new consul was to impeach Sylla before the assembly of the people. It was a law of the state, that any man, invested with a military command, might frustrate any charge brought against him by going on service. Sylla there- fore defeated thepurposc of his enemies by repairing immediately to his army, and commencing the campaign again>>t Miilnidates. His partisans at Rome, in the meantime, took advantage of a series of violent and illegal proceedings of Cinna, (o procure his deposition from office, and his expulsion from the city. Marius, returning to Italy at this juncture, found means to levy a coiisid- voL. I. 50 591 UNIV'KKSAI. insTOKV. [lIUOK IV enable army, and joiiiing^ his forces to those of Ciima, lliey laid siege to Rumo, at that time reduced to great distress by famine. In this situation, the senate capitulated with these traitors in arms, repealed the attainder of Marius, and restored Cinna to his consu- lar funciioii. They entered the city triuini)lianl]y at the head of tlie army, and immediately gave orders for a general massacre of all those citizens whom they regarded as their enemies. 'J'he scene was horrible beyond all descrij)iion. The heads of the sen- ators, streaming with blood, were stuck up before the rostra; "a dumb senate, (says an ancient writer,) but which yet cried aloud to Heaven for vengeance." At the succeeding election of magis- trates, Marius and Cinna proclaimed themselves consuls without the formality of a vote of the people; but the mind of Marius, ever the prey of turbulent })assions, which he sought to allay by intemperate drinking, fell a victim to their joint efforts, and he died, as is said, in a fit of debauch. Sylla in the meantime, vviih the army, had contributed to the glory of the republic by putting an end to the war with Mithri- dates. This very prince had conceived the proud design of wresting all Asia, together with Greece, from the dominion of the Romans; but the loss of two great battles at Chaeronea and Orch- omenos put an end to his prospects of ambition, and forced him to conclude a humiliating peace. " Sylla," says Velleius Patercu- lus, "deserved censure for many things; but one thing was meri- torious — he left his private interest neglected till he had finished his war against the enemies of Rome." His own revenge was his real object; and a dreadful revenge it was. On returning to Rome, he found the consuls Carbo and Norba- nus (for Cinna was now dead) with above 200,000 men in arms to oppose him: but he was beloved by the soldiers, and he had address enough to seduce a whole consular army, with Cethegiis, Verres, and the young Pompey, to join themselves to his party. With this powerful reinforcement he entirely defeated the consuls, and prepared now to act a part apparently contrary to every for- mer indication of his nature. There cannot be a doubt that mur- der is a contagious disease ; that with the first shedding of blood the nature is infuriated, and the wretch once imbrued in it rushes on with enthusiasm to the most atrocious cruelties. Sylla had now caught the contagion. He ordered 6000 men to be massacred in cold blood, who, on promise of their lives, had laid down their arms. His proscriptions were dreadful beyond all example. Every day produced a new catalogue of those who were doomed to destruction ; he declared that he would not spare an enemy whom he had in Italy. The punishment did not stop at the sup- posed offenders : their family and posterity to the third generation vveie declared infamous, and incapable of enjoying any office in the state ; a proof that tyrannic cruelty is blind to consequences and ^uspects not how short-lived, from the very nature of things D. C. 79 ] SYLLA. 396 Its empire must necessarily be. It was amidst these horrid scenes that the aba':doned Caiiline first gratified that i)rofiia;ate ai)d sav- age disposition which afterwards aimed at the general ieiiructioa of the state. S}lla was now without a rival in authority, and ahsohite maiter of the government, which, therefore, properly speaking, \sas no onger a rcpuhlic ; yet he chose to recur to the pojjuiar authority in order to establish himself in power, and he was nominated in tlie Comitia, dictator for an unlimil d space of time. He was now secure, and seemed to turn his ihoiighis to tl e res- toration of order and tranquillity in the stale. He restored the senate to its judicial power, of which, for a considi'rable lime, it had been deprived. He published severe laws against nuu"der and oppression ; he regulated the election to the high oflices of pra'tor, quaistor, and tribune ; prohibiiing, with regard to the last, that any tribunes of the people should be chosen unless from the body of the senators, and enacting that their election to that function should preclude for ever their attaining to a higher iligniiy. This regu- lation edectually prevented that once enviable ollice from being any longer an object of ambition. Having made these prudent and salutary reforms, Sylla look another step which excited universal surprise : — lie resigned the dictatorship. The man who had destroyed above a hundred thousand of his fellow citizens — who, in the course of his pro- scriptions, had put to death about ninety senators and above 2f)00 Roman knights — had courage to resign the absolute authority he had acquired, to become a private citi/en, and to otlV'r to give an accoimt to the public of his conduct. But he had gained parti-^ans to his interest more powerful, if not so numerous as his enemies. The senate were his friends ; because, by his late regulations, ho had restored to that body a great, part of its ancient dignity ; and bad ever stood forth the su|)porter of their order against .Marius, who was the champion of the people. The patricians saw, wiUi pleasure, that they were once more considered as the superior rank in the state. In these resj)ecls, Sylla professed himself the friend of the ancient constitution of his country ; and as such, in spite of all his atrocities, he has been regarded by the most en- lightened historians. He, therefore, had a j)owerful party who approved of his political conduct ; and above all, he was the dol of the army, who had all along profited by his measures and gained by his indulgence ; he had given freedom to ten ihousn!nl slaves, and had gratified by rewards all his partisans. These were ills guardians, and enabled him to wulk with. the security of an innocent man in that city which lie hml deluged with blood. .Sy||.i, however, did not long survive his change of state. Ple.Kine and debauchery l)rought on him a loathsome dise.isc, of which he dii'd. He was certainly a man of great strength of mind, and had -soitie of the qualities of an heroic character; but he lived in evil times, wnen it was impossible at once to be great ami to be virtuous. 596 uNivr.iisAr, iiistuhy. [hook n On Uic dealli of Sylla, the civil war began anew. Ii('|)i(Iu3 the consul, asjjiring at similar domin >n, but a man of no abilities, levied a large army, and, on the pretence of restoring the forfeited estates to tliose whom Sylla had driven into banishment by his proscriptions, openly proclaimed his purpose of annulling all i1k) late political regulations. The senate justly took the alarm; ♦^ atulus and Pompey were invested with authority to provide for the safety of the republic, and immediately taking the Geld with a su|)erior force, Lepidus sustained two defeats, and took shelter in Sardinia, where he died. It was now that Pompey began to distinguish himself. He had already, with no other command than as the general of an army attained to the reputation of possessing great talents by his victories over the Marian party in Africa, Sicily, and Italy. Sertorius was the head of that party in Spain, where his civil and military abili- ties had gained him the highest popularity. Metellus and Pompey confessed their inability to subdue this formidable partisan in the field, by meanly setting a prize upon his head. This policy was successful ; it drew off Perpenna from his interest, who had hitherto supported his cause. The traitor invited his friend to a banquet, and a hired assassin stabbed him amidst the tumult of festivity. The party of Sertorius was undone by the death of its leader ; and Pompey, returning to Romel had the honors of a triumph. Mithridates, king of Pontus, was earnestly bent upon recovering those possessions in Asia of which the Romans had deprived him. Lucullus, a very able general, was entrusted with the conduct of the war against him. He defeated Mithridates in two engage- ments, and recovered Bithynia. Meantime MithridStes had sent a fleet to Italy to support the rebellion of Spartacus, who was carrying on war against the republic at the head of forty thousand slaves, and had defeated an army commanded by two prfPtors, and nother headed by both the consuls. This rebellion Pompey had he credit of subduing ; although, in fact, the victory which cost Spartacus his life was achieved by Crassus, before Pompey 's ai'- rival. In the following year, Pompey and Crassus were elected consuls, and the latter, by his splendid festivals and shows, acquir- ed with the people a high measure of popularity. Lucullus had now compelled Mithridates to retreat to Armenia, and the kingdom of Pontus submitted to the Roman arms. Lucullus now marched against Mithridates and Tigranes, and had the honor of signally defeating their united forces ; but it was his misfortune .or his blame to become unpopular with his army, and in the next engagement the Pontic king gained an important victory. The consequence was, that his enemies at Rome accused him of protracting the war from motives of interest. Pompey, who secretly wished to supplant him in bis command, .•rocured some of his friends, among whom were Julius Ctcsar a'^'' B C. 63. J MITHRIDATIC WAR. 391 Cicero, to propose that he should supersede LucuHus, and a decree was obtained to that effect. When the intelligence was brought to Pompey he feigned the utmost surprise. The rival generals tame to an interview in Galatia, which passed in mutual reproaches. " It is your policy," said Lucullus, "to triumph over an enemy whom another has already subdued, and thus to gailier laurels which you have not won." — "And you," said Pompey, "covet victory solely for the sake of plunder, and ravage countries only to fill your coffers." Both reproaches had some foundation in truth. Pompey prosecuted the war against Miiliridates, and soon compelled his ally Tigranes into terms of unconditional submission. In the following campaign he put an end to the dominion of Mi- thridates. One of that prince's concubines treacherously surren- dered to the Roman general a capital fortress of the kingdom ; and Miihridates soon after, seeing his fortunes desperate, had recourse to a voluntary death. Pontus and Syria were then reduced to the condition of provinces of the Roman empire. On the return of Lucullus to Rome, his acknowledged services procured him the honor of a triumph; and he passetl the remainder of his life in luxurious retirement. Fond at the same time of study, and of the conversation of the most ingenious and polite men of his time, he spent whole days with ihom in his library and gardens, which were open to all the learned men of Rome and Greece.* If any thing can be said to vindicate that excess to which he carried the luxury of the table, it is that his higher morals were irreproachable ; and voluptuary as he was, he had yet a higher pleasure in acts of humanity and beneficence. While Pompey was thus emplo}'ed in Asia, a most dangerous conspiracy threatened the entire destruction of Rome. Lucius Sergius Catilina, we have already observed, had been one of the ministers of the cruelties of Sylla. He was a youth of a noble family, but with a character stained with every manner of crime. While Sylla was dictator, he had risen to considerable honors : he had been quaestor, and had held a command in Africa as prator ; but his vices disgraced these sjjlendid emi)loyments, and the wraith which he acquired by rapine and extortion he consumed in the most infamous debaucheries. Foiled in his design of obtaining iho consulate for himself and his friend Piso, he first determineil to wreak his vengeance on the more successful candidates, Coiia and Torquatus; and this his first conspiracy, which was to begin by the murder of these magistrates and all their |)artisans among the .senate, appears to have failed of success moie from the want of concerted measures in the cons|iirators themselves, than from the vigilance of the sovereign power of the slate. The disappoint- * Soe Plutarch in Vit. I-uriil. who (li-tnil!> nt considcrablo Icnpth the hixuri- 0U8 Ufe of this ci'lohratcd lloinan. .'^98 IJNIVKKSAI. IIISTOIIV. [fiOOK IV ment of lliis design* scrvod only to slimnlnte his daring and ma- lignant s))ii-it to enterprises of greater danger and atrocity. Lost in character, drowned in dcht, and thence iinaljle to fintl any other resource for the support of his vices and debaucheries, he now ^formed the desperate scheme of extirpating the uiiole body of tho senate, of assassinating all the magistrates of the commonwealth, and satiating his avarice and ambition by the command of the re- pijiblic and the plunder of the city. Catiline gained to his interest the profligate of all ranks and de- naninations ; knights, patricians, and senators, who were desperate bankrupts, and some high-born women of intriguing and abandoned character, helped to increase his parly. To facilitate the execu tion of his designs, he once more solicited the consulship, but was again disappointed, from the known infamy of his character. The illustrious Cicero was elected to that office. Happy for the re- public that in those perilous times she had this great man for her guardian and protector! He had for his colleague Caius Antonius, a weak and indolent man, who left to him all the burden, and con- sequently all the honor, of the administration. In the meantime, Catiline had brought his plot to maturity. Troops were levied, arms provided, a distinct department and func- tion was assigned to each of the princi])al conspirators, and a day was fixed for the commencement of operations in the heart of Rome. The city was to be set fire to in a hundred different quarters at once; the consuls were to be assassinated ; and an immense list was prepared of the chief citizens who were doomed to instantaneous destruction. A plot of this nature, in which so many were con- cerned, could not long be kept secret. Fulvia, a woman of loose character, the mistress of one of the conspirators, probnbly gained by the spies of Cicero, gave notice to the consuls of the whole plan of the conspiracy. The senate passed that powerful decree which armed the consuls with dictatorial authority for the safety of the republic;! ^"^ Cicero under this ample warrant might, perhaps, without challenge of exceeding his powers, have seized the traitor, and put him instantly to death. But he wished to discover his numerous accomplices, and thus effectually to ex- tinguish the conspiracy. We are astonished when we read that animated oration of Cicero, the first against Catiline ; and know that the traitor had the audacity to sit in the senate-house while it was delivered, and while every man of worth or regard for char- acter deserted the bench on which he sat, and left him a spectacle to the whole assembly. We are equally astonished when we learn that he was suffered still to remain at liberty ; nay, to leave * or this first conspiracy of Catiline, the accounls of tlie Roman historiani we extremely imperfect and confused. t Dent opcram consulcs ne quid respublica detrimenti capiat. B. C. G2.1 CO.VSPIRACV OF CATI1.1NE. 3f)9 Rome and to appear at the head of an :irmy in open rebellion. IJut it was one peculiarity of the Roman coniiitmion, during the rejnib- lic, that the laws did not allow the deteniion of aixused persons in order to trial. A citizen, accused of whatever crime, continued at full liberty till judgment was pronounced against him, and might, if he foresaw the issue of the trial, withdraw himself from Rnjne as a voluntary exile. A remarkable circumstance, showing the extent of this formi- dable conspiracy, was now brought to Iiii;jit. The ambassadors of the Allobroges having fruitlessly aj)plied to the Roman senate for a redress of grievances, Publius Leniulus, the prx'K^r, gave them assurance in private, of protection and favor, provided they woidd return to their province, and dispose their countrymen to arm in sujjport of a powerful party, which, he aflirmcd, would soon have the command of the republic. Of this negotiation C'cero received intelligence. The consul, with infinite prudence, instructed his informant to encourage the correspondence between Leniulus and the ambassadors, and to urge the latter to demand from Lentulus a list of the names of all his partisans, in order to show to their countrymen the number and power of those friends on whose protection they might depend, if they armed in support of this great revolution in the state. Lentulus fell into the snare that was laid for him. He gave a list of the names of all concern- ed in the conspiracy of Catiline to the amha-isadors, who, setting out upon their journey, were waylaid, and their desi)atche3 seized by order of the consul. Cicero had now in his hands the most complete evidence against the whole of the conspirators. Assem- bling the senate, he produced first the written evidence, consisting of letters, under the hands of the cjiief partisans of Catiline, to- gether with lists of arms, and the places where iliey were lieposit- ed ; as well as separate instructions for the readv co/iperation of the dillerent leaders in their distinct departments of the plot. Tho deputies of the Allobroges were produced before the senate, and made no scruple to confirm the proof arising from those docu- ments. It remained for the senate to determine what course was to bo pursued with these detected traitors; and the difibrcnce of opinion which prevailed on that subject allorded a strong criterion of the alarming extent of this atrocious design, and the influence of those who secretly favored it. Silanus, the consul elect, j)roposed an immediate sentence of death on the whole of the conspirators. His opinion was powerfiilly combated by Julius Caisar, who main- tained that tlie confiscation of their estates, and the commiiial of :heir persons in charge to some of the best aflectiMl of the Italian communities, was as efiec'.ual a curb to their d(;signs, and moro af^reeable to law than capital punishment. Cicero, without de- hvering any opinion, painted in strong colors the niH-cs^iiy of an immediate and powerful antidote to prevent the utter ruin of the 400 UMVLllSAI, IIISTOllY. [rOOK IV State, and declared tliat lie would execute the orders of the senate whatever they slujuld be, at the hazard of his own life. Calo closed the del)ate by observing that the vote of that night would seal the fate of Rome, and convince her intestine enemies whedier their party or the guardians of the rej)ublic were to prevail in this awful conflict. lie concluded by voting for the immediate execu- tion of all the conspirators already in custody, and a vigorous effort for the extermination of the rebel and his army then in the field. This opinion preva. ed, and was immediately carried into eflect. Leniulus and his accomplices were the same day, without form of trial, strangled in prison by the consul's warrant. An army, headed by Antonius, now took the field against Cat- iline. He came up widi him in the neighborhood of Fesulae The rebel made a desperate defence; but, overpowered by num bers, he threw himself, whh frantic courage, into the midst of the enemy, and died a better death than his crimes merited. Among the many who had incurred some suspicion of sharing in the guilty designs of Catiline was Julius Csesar. This young man, the son-in-law of Cinna, was of a most illustrious patrician family. The companions of his youth had known him only as a fop and a debauchee ; but pleasure and effeminacy were the as sumed disguises of a daring and ambitious spirit. SyJla, who was an excellent judge of human nature, had even penetrated into his real character, and numbered him among the proscribed. " There is many a Marius (said he) in the person of that young man." Caesar, aware of the dangerous consequences of these suspicions, quitted Rome, and did not return thither till after Sylla's death. He became more circumspect in his conduct, and learned the better to conceal his designs, till the proper opportunity of bringing them into action. Meantime he courted the people, and was high in their favor before he accepted any office in the state. His larges- ses had gained a great party to his interest, though they ruined his private fortune ; and when he was created iEdile, it was generally believed he was in indigent circumstances ; yet the games and spectacles which he exhibited surpassed every thing hitherto seen in magnificence. At the time when Pompey returned from his Asiatic expedition, C«sar held the office of pra?tor. The ambitious spirit of Pompey could brook neither a superior nor an equal. Crassus, a man of mean talents, but of a restless and ambitious spirit, had, by means of his enormous wealth, gained a very considerable party to his in- terest ; for money at Rome could always insure popularity, and thus render even the weakest of men formidable to tl;e liberties of their country. Thus, with the greatest inequality of talents, Pom- pey and Crassus were rivals in the path of ambition ; and Cassar, who at this time aspired to the consulate, and was well aware that, by courting exclusively either of these rivals, he infallibly made the other his enemy, showed the reach of his political genius by art- B C. 59.] JLT.l'JS CESAR. 401 fully effecting a reconciliation between them, and tinis seruriii; the friendship of both. Cato foresaw the fatal cnnseqwences of this union of interests, which was termed ihe Trimnrirate, and he openly prognosticated the ruin of the republic. In the nieantune Caesar, by their joint interest, obtained the consulate, and greatly increased his popularity by procuring a new agrarian law to be passed, which authorized the division of certain lands in Campa- nia among 20,000 of the poorer citizens, who had at least thr'je children. It is not a little surprising that a measure of this kind, so con- trary to all good policy, should be so frc(iuently proposed and adopted in the Roman commonwealth. On this subject the reflej- lions of Dr. Ferguson are most judicious : — " In great and popu- lous cities, indigent citizens are ever likely to be numerous, and would be more so if the idle and profligate were taught to hope for bounties and gratuitous provisions to quiet their clamors and to suppress their disorders. If men were to have estates in the coun- try because they are factious and turbulent in the city, it is evident that public lands, and all the resources of the most |iros|)erous state, would not be sufficient to supply their wants. Commission- ers appointed for the distribution of such public favors would be raised above the ordinary magistrates, and above the laws of their country. They might reward their own creatures, and keep the citizens- in general in a state of dependence on their will. The authors of such proposals, while they are urging the state and the people to ruin, would be considered as their only patrons and friends. 'It is not the law I dread,' said Cato; 'it is the reward expected for obtaining it.' "* These reflections are so obviously the dictates of good sense, that even the wildest demagogue must admit their force : and hence we are furnished with a just criterion to appreciate the real characters of the proposers of such measures, and to unmask the mock patriotism of such men as Cassius, the Gracchi, and Julius Caesar. Ca-sar, in order to strengthen his interest with Pompey, gave him his daughter in marriag(?. He had now attained to that hcii^ht of consideration with the people, that the senate was completely intimidated, and durst not oppose him; a strong proof of which wa?-. given by the passing of a law by which the senators look a s'>|. emn oath not to op})ose any measure that should be determined in a popular assembly during his consulate. He gave the government of the provinces to his chief partisans, and took for himself those of Cisal))ine and Transalpine Gaul and Illyria for five years, togeihor with the command of four legions. The legion consisted at this time of about 4,000 men. Among the men whom Caesar most dreaded was Cicero. lie * Ferguson's Rom. Rep , vol ii. p. 111. ^vo. odit. VOL. I. 51 402 UMVKRSAI, HISTOIIY. [dOOK IV knew liiiii to 1)1' a triK- patriot, a real friend of liis country and its constittilion, and llicrcfore an enemy to all usurpation of a prepon derating power in the state.* He therefore beheld in him the greatest obstacle to his own ambitious designs, and resolved to ac- complish his ruin. Cicero was aware of his own danger, and th'Mcfore had for some time declined all share in the offices of state; while his high character and en)inent public services procured him the esteem of every man of virtue. But such were not the pre- vailing party in the republic, cither in point of influence or num- bers; for the populace ever bestowed their favor on those who best paid their court, and ministered most largely to their avarice and love of pleasure. Clodius, a mortal enemy of Cicero, was pitched on by CiTsar as his fittest instrument to accomplish the ruin of this illustrious man. By Caesar's influence, Clodius was chosen one of the tribunes of the people, and was no sooner in office than he pro- posed various laws which tended to ingratiate himself with the peo- ple, and at the same time secure the favor of the chiefs of the republic. He procured the passing of an act for remitting the debts due by the poorer class for corn bought from the public gra- naries; and another for the restoring and increasing the number of public corporations, which had been abolished on account of the tmbulence and faction of which they were the seminaries. He gained much influence with the senate by a regulation for abridging the power of the censors in purging that order; and finally lie pro- posed a law which made it a high offence to condenni or put to death any citizen before he had been judged by the people. ■ This important law was evidently levelled at Cicero, who, by his au- thority as consul, warranted indeed by a decree of the senate, had condemned Catiline's accomplices to death — a measure which the necessity of the times and the imminent peril of the republic had justified in the opinion of all good men. Cicero, with all his high qualities, was of a weak and pusillan- imous spirit. Instead of manfully endeavoring to avail himself of the great and essential services which he had rendered his coun- try, sufficient to insure him the support of every good citizen, in The first occasion on which Cicero distinguished himself f jrreat difficult}' and delicacy, tlie defence of Roscias, who, during the time of Sylla's horrible proscriptions, had been robbed of his whole fortune by some of his wicked relations, who liad put to death his father under the pretended authority of that proscription, though in reality his name was not in the list of victims. A favorite of Sylla, named Chrysojronus, had shared this infamous plunder, and, to secure Iiis possession, accused the son of being tlie murderer of his father. Such was, at this time, the dread of offending Sylla. that none of the old advocates or orators would undertake the defence of this injured man. Cicero, then in hig twenty-seventh year, nobly stood forth as his defender; and, with admirable skill and address, prevailed in obtaining justice for his client, without incurring the resentment of that man who was the protector of his oppressors. The reputation of the pleader rose from that moment to the highest pitch, and he was regarded as ..he first orator of tiie acre. B C. 59.] EXILE OF CICERO. 4">3 averting or opposing this adverse current uliicli threatened his de- struction, he meanly sunk under the apprehension of its force His resolution entirely forsook him. He clothed himself in a mourning habit, as did most of the equestrian order to which he belonged ; and lie presented himself in the assembly of the people, in the abject character of a suppliant whose life and fortunes were entirely at their disposal. He claimed the friendship of Pompey, to whom he had done essential services ; but he shamefullv aban- doned him. Cato, the real friend of Cicero, and who would have generously supported him at ail hazards, was purposely invosted with a commission to reduce the island of Cyprus, in order to re- move him from Rome at this critical moment when the fate of his friend was in dependence. Before leaving the city, he is said to have counselled Cicero to yield to the necessity of circum'»tances, and betake liimsell to voluntary banishment from his ungratefui country. After some inefTectua! endeavors to try tlie attachment of his former friends, which only ended in fresh mortification, Cicero fol- lowed the counsel of Cato. He set off in the middle of the night, and embarked at Brundisium for Macedonia, on his way to Thes- salonica, where he had fixed the scene of his exile. Here he betrayed in a lamentable degree the weakness of his mind. The letters which he wrote to Atticus, it has been well observed, "re- semble more tiie wailings of an infant, or the strains of a tragedy composed to draw tears, than the language of a man supporting the cause of integrity in the midst of unmerited trouble."* "I wish I may see the day (he thus writes to his friend) when I shall be disposed to thank you for having prevented me from resorting to a voluntary death ; for I now bitterly regret that I yielded in that matter to your entreaty. What species of misfortune have I not endured.'* Did ever any one fall from so high a state, in so good a cause, with such abilities and knowlinlge, and with such a share of the public esteem.' Cut oifin such a career of glory, deprived of my fortune, torn from my cljildren, debarred the sight of a brother dearer to me than my-cif — hut my tonrs will net allow me (o proceed." In contem|)lating such a j)icture, the historian I have just quoted truly says, " It appears from this and many other scenes of the life of this remarkable man, that though he loved vir- tuous actions, yet his virtue was accompanied with so unsuitable a thirst of the praise to which it entitled him, that his mind was un- able to sustain itself without ihi-; foreign assistance ; and when the praise to which he aspired for his consulate was changed into oblo- quy and scorn, he seems to have lost the sense of good or evil in his own conduct and character." How ditlcrent this conduct from the sentiments he had expressed as a philosopher, in his beautiful Ferguson's Rom. Kep. vol. ii. p. 443. 404 UMVF.nsAL HISTORY. [book IV treatise Dc Finibns, 1. i.: " Succumbere doloribus, eosque hurnil aniino imheoilloque ferrc, misoriim est : ob eamqiie dobilitatem aiiiini, imiiti i)arentes, mnlti amicos, nnnniilli patriam, j)loriqiie aiitom seipsos penitus pcrdidc^runt." * But speculative and prac- tical phiioso])hy are widely diirerent, Cicero's departure from Rome was rcigarded as a full justifica- tion of that sentence of banishment which Clodius immediately caused to be passed against him as an enemy of the republic, ac- companied wiili a decree for confiscating his whole estates, and demolishing and razing to the ground his elegant palaces and vil- las. Such were the rewards of that true patriot whom, a few n;onlhs before, his country had justly hailed as its preserver from utter destruction ! But popular opinion is ever apt to jjass from one extreme to another ; and the latter part of the lile of Cicero was a perpetual alternation of triumph and disgrace. We have remarked that, in the divisions of the provinces be- tween Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus, the first of these had for his share those extensive territories on both sides of the Alps, distin- guished by the names of Gallia Cisalpina and Transalpina. Ol these he obtained the government for five years, and in that period he carried to its highest pitch the military glory of the republic, and his own reputation as a consummate general. The Helve- tians, leaving their own territory, had attempted to obtain a set- tlement within the Roman Province. Caesar, in the first year of his government, utterly defeated these invaders, and drove them back to their native seats with the loss of near 200,000 slain in the field. The Germans under Ariovistus, who had attempted a similar invasion, were repelled with immense slaughter, their leader narrowly escaping in a small boat across the Rhine. The Belgre, the Nervii, the Cehx, the Suevi, Menapii, and other warlike nations, were all successively brought under subjection. In the fourth year of his command he invaded Britain. The motive to this enterprise was purely ambition, although the pretext was that the Britons were the aggressors by sending sup]ilies to the hostile tribes of Gaul. Caesar landed near Deal, and found a much moie formioable opposition than he had expected, the natives dis[ilaying considerable military skill with the most dctormined courage. The Romans, indeed, gained some advantages ; but Caesar soon becam sensible that the conquest of the island required a much greater force than had yet been brought against it, and was not to be achieved in a single campaign. The approach of winter in the country of an enemy whose spirit seemed to be roused to the most desperate resistance, gave him some alarm for the safety ot his arniy ; and, therefore, binding the conquered parts of the country • " To yield to misfortunes, and bear them weakly, is miserable. By such infirmity of mind, many have brought ruin on their relations and friends, some even on their country , but more on themselves."' B C 54.] THE TRIUMVIRS. 105 to terms of submission, he thouglit it prudent to re-embark his legions, and, after settling thein in winter-quarters in Gaul, return ed himself to Italy, to attend to the concerns of the capital, where the splendor of his foreign campaigns had highly increased his popularity. His great acquisition of fame had now sensibly obscured tht glory of Pompey, whose influence was visibly on the decline. To strengthen himself by the interest and by the talents of Cicero, whom he had before so meanly abandoned, he now j)rocured ihu recall of that illustrious exile, and the repeal of the sentence of confiscation which had deprived him of his whole property. Ci- cero returned to his countiy after an absence of sixteen montlis. His journey from Brundisium to Rome was a triumphal j)roces- sion. All Italy, as he said himself, seemed to flock together to hail his auspicious return; that single day made his glory immor- tal.* He was loaded with honors ; and his houses and villas, which had been razed to the ground, were rebuilt with increased magnificence at the expense of the public. By the influence of Cicero, Pompey regained for a while his popularity. The triumvirate, though secretly animated with mu- tual jealousy, still continued to su|)port each other in their power. Pompey and Crassus were elected consuls; the former having, for five years, the government of Spain, and the latter that of Syria, Greece, and Egypt. They had unlimited power to levy troops, and to exact whatever pecuniary sup|)lies they found necessary, from the tributary princes and states under their government. Crassus, insatiable in accumulating wealth, |)lundere(l the Eastern provinces without mercv ; but having engaged in an inconsiderate expedition against the Parlhiaiis, he was totally defeated, his whole army cut to pieces, and he himself and his son were sl;*in in the field. Crrsar in the meantime was prosecuting his military oi)rrations m Gaul, and seemed to take no concern in th(> aflairs ol Rome ; yet, in reality, his influence there now regulated every nioasure of importance. His partisans, to whom he remitted large sums of money, overruled all proceedings in (he comitia, and carried what- ever measures of a j)uhlic nature he chose to direct ns instrumen- tal to his own views. Pompey was not blind to these views ; and the apparent union and cordiality which ihey yet atlected to main, tain was any diing l)ut real. We shall soon see an open rupture, and a contention for undivided sovereignty, whose issue must de- cide the fate of the conuuonwcalth. • " Moiis qiiidom nviiUis is fuit. ut a Bnintliiiio \i«qiio ml Romam aumen iwr oetunm totius Italite vidiTcm. Unus ille die* milii iiuidi-m innUr inmiurlAliU Its full." 400 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [DOOK IV CHAPTER n. 'tesdr passes tlie Rubicon — Marclies to Rome — Named Dictator — Battle of I'liarsalia — Fliirlit and Death of I'otnpey — Defeat of Pharnaces — Death of Cato — Cffisar's Reforms in tlio Roman State — ^Reform of the Calendar — la created perpetual Dictator with the title of Imperalor — Character of Caesar — Is assassinated — Artful conduct of IVIark Antony — His ambitious views — Second Triumvirate — Bloody Proscription — Deatli of Cicero — Rattle of Phi- lippi, and End of the lleiiiiblic — Battle of Actium — Death of Antony and Cleopatra — Octavius (afterwards Augustus) sole master of the Roman Em pire. The brilliaiii.y of the warlike exploits of Casar, and the influence of his partisans in the public measures of the commonwealth, easily procured the prolongation of his government of the Gauls, to a period double the length of that for which it had been originally granted. In the course of ten years, he had reduced the greater part of what is now called France into a Roman jjrovince ; a con- quest, in which his political talents were no less signally displayed than his abilities as a general. His Conunentaries, a military jour- nal which contains i brief and perspicuous detail of his campaigns, are no less a proof of his excelling in those splendid features of a public character, than of his possessing all the qualities of a skil- ful and eloquent historian. The renewed term of his government was on the eve of expir- ing ; but this extraordinary man had no design of relinquishing liis njilitary command. To secure himself against a deprivation of power, he bribed Curio, one of the tribunes, to make a proposal which wore the appearance of great moderation, and regard for the public liberty. This was, that Caesar and Pompey shotild either both continue in their governments — or both be recalled ; as they were equally capable of endangering the safety of the com- monwealth by an abuse of power. The motion passed, and Ca- sar immediately offered to resign on condition that his rival should 'bllow his example ; but Pompey rejected the proposal, })iol)ably aware of the real designs of Csesar, but too confidently relying on the strength of his own party, and the influence he had with his troops. A civil war was the necessary consequence. Every connection between these two ambitious men was now at an end. The death of Julia, the daughter of Ca!sar, and wife of Pompey, dissolved that feeble bond of union which had hitherto subsisted between them.* They were now declared enemies, and each pre- " This lady died in childbed. She was beloved by Pompey with the fondest B. C. 49.] CAESAR PASSKS THE KCIilCON. 401 pared to assert, by arms, his title to aii unrestrained dominion over his country. It is not a little surprising, that the citizens of Rome should deliberately prepare to sacrifice their lives and I'urlunes ic the decision of such a contest, with all the zeal of men who (iglif for their most valuable rights and possessions. Pompey had on his side the consuls and a great part of the seriate. In one respect he had justice on his side, for the tenn of his government was not yet at an end, and the proposed accom- modation was evidently a snare laid for him by Caesar. Cato and Cicero had taken part with Pompey, which showed their sense of the justice of his cause, for they were no false |)airiois. Hut Csesar had in his favor a victorious army of veteran troops, profound mili- tary skill, and a great portion of popularity gained by his general character of humanity, and well-employed largesses among all ranks of the people. The bounfiary which separates Italy from Cisalpine Gaul is a small river named the Rubicon. The Roiiian senate, aware of the designs of Caisar, had pronounced a decree, devoting to the Infer- nal gods whatever general should presume to pass this boundary with an army, a legion, or even a single cohort. Caesar, who, with all his ambition, inherited a large share of the benevolent affections, did not resolve on the decisive step which he had now taken without some compunction of mind. Arrived with his army at the border of bis province, he hesitated for some time, while he pictured to himself the inevitable miseries of that civil war, in which he was now pre])aring to unsheath the sword. " If I pass this small streain," said he, " in what calamities must I involve my country! Yet, if I do not, I myself am ruined.'" The latter consideration was too powerful. Ambition, too, pre- sented allurements, which to a mind like Caesar's were irresistible. He passed the boundary, and took possession of .'\riininum, where he was joined by Mark Antony and Cassius. They were at that time tribunes of the people, and after endeavoring in vain to serve his interest at Rome, by strenuously op|)osing a decree of the seri- ate, which required Caesar to disbjind liis army, now openly joined him in the field with a considerable body of their followers. Rome was now in the utmost alarm and consternation. Caesar had with him ten legions, while Pompey, to whom the city looked for i)rotection, and whom the senate had invested with all auihoriiy to defend the republic, had, with unpardonable siipineness, taken no measures to guard against a step of this kind, which he might well have apprehended from the daring genius of bis rival. Ho now ordered in haste a general levy to be made over all Italy ; affection ; and ihnA, in the exprcssivn words of Vflli'iiis E'aU*rciilii«, frat mediu mali cohairciUis inter I'omprium U Citsarrm ronronlur pignus — LiT). ii. c 47. 403 UNIVERSAL UISTOHY [UOOK IV' but I'oiiml U) Ills inoriifiralioii, thai Caesar liad |)re-occujjiccl the most iiiiporiaiit places uhciice troops were to he drawn, and was dailv joined by fresh reinforcements. Mis Ucll-iimcd bounties, and that clemency which he showed on every su;:cess of liis arms, and which was truly a part of his nature, had gamed him the gen- eml favor. The circumstance of the two tribunes espousing his cause gave it a show of patriotism, and he now p.ibticly proclaim- ed that his sole purpose in leaving his governmcn- was to vindicate the authority of the people thus injured in the persons of their ma- gistrates. Pompey was now sensible of his weakness. The voice of the public openly expressed an impatient desire for the arrival of Cae- sar, who, on his part, was rapidly advancing to the gates of Rome, when Pompey quitted the city, followed by the consuls and the greater part of the senators. Unable to collect a sufficient force in Italy, he passed over into Epirus. The East had been the scene of his conquests,* and thence he trusted that he would be supplied both with troops and treasure. Before sailing from Brun- disium, he had declared that he would treat all those as enemies who did not follow him. Caesar, with more wisdom, declared that he would esteem all those his friends who did not arm against him. Caesar, by immediately following Pompey, might, perhaps, have brought the war to a speedy termination ; but, besides the want of transports for the conveyance of his army, he judged it hazardous to leave Italy defenceless against the lieutenants of Pompey, then in considerable force in the Province of Spain. His first objects, therefore, were the securing the seat of empire, and reducing the hostile army under Pompey 's officers. After making his public entry into Rome, where he was received with the loudest accla- mations, and possessing himself of the public treasury, he set out for Spain. Marseilles, which lay in his route, had declared for his ri\al, but leaving Trebonius to besiege it, he proceeded in his march to meet the lieutenants of Pompey, Afranius and Petreius. These he speedily subdued, and, compelling them to yield at dis- cretion, sent them home to Rome to proclaim his clemency and moderation. In the space of forty days all Spain submitted to the arms of Caesar, and he returned victorious to Rome, where, in his absence, he had been proclaimed dictator. In that quality, he pre- sided at the annual election of the chief magistrates of the state, and was himself elected consul. He had now that legal title to act in .he name of the republic, which he had hitherto wanted. If tlie power of an usurper is capable of being validated by the subse- quent voluntary sanction of those over whom it is usurped, Caisar had now that ratification. Meantime Pompey was strenuously collecting forces in Greece, Macedonia, and Epirus. He likewise drew large supplies from the sovereigns of Asia, and had already mustered an army of five legions, with five hundred ships of war, under the conunand of R C. 45.] BATTLE OF PIIARSAI.IA 409 Bibulus. Caiisar embarked *at Brundisiuin w'ali an equal arma- ment of five legions, and the (wo armies came in sight of each other near Dyrracliiiim, in lilyria. After one doubtful en2;a{;e- ment, in which the advantage was rather on the side of Pomjjey, Caesar led him on to Macedonia, where he had two .additional legions under his lieutenant Calvinus. Pompey, who was easily elated with every appearance of success, flattered himself that this was a retreat upon the part of his enemy. He was, there- fore, anxious to come up with him, and eager to terminate the war by a general engagement. This was exactly what Ca>sar wished. This imjiortant battle was fougiit in the field of Pharsalia. The army of Pompey amounteil to forty-five thousand foot, and seven thousand horse, which was more than double that of his rival ; and so confident of victory were the former, that they had adorned their tents with festoons of laurel and myrtle, and prepared a splendid banquet against their return from the battle. Vaiii and presumptuous projiarations ! Of this im!iiense army, fifteen thou- sand were left dead on the field, and twenty-four thousand surren- dered themselves prisoners of war, and cheerfully iucorpoi iied themselves into the army of the victor, whose loss, in all, did not exceed two hundred men. Ca'sar found in the camp of Pom[)ey, all his papers, containing the correspondence he carried on with the chief of his partisans at' Rome. The s-agacious and magnani- mous chief committed them unopened to the flames, declaring that he wished rather to be ignorant who were his enemies, than to be obliged to punish them. After this fatal engagement, Pompey experienced all liie mise- ries of a fugitive. The last scenes of the life of this illustriou man afford a striking picture of the vicissitudes of fortune, and the Mistability of all human greatness. He passed the first night, after his defeat, in the solitary hut of a fisherman upon the seacoasl Thence he went on board a vessel, which landed him first at Amphipolis ; whence he sailed to Lesbos, where his wife Cornelia was wailing, in anxious expectation, the issue of the late decisive conflict. They met upon the seashore. Pompey embraced her without ulteruig a word, and this silence spoke at once the whole extent of her misfortune. They fled for protection to Kgypt, where Pompev expected to find a welcome asylum at the court of the young Ptolemy, whose father Auletes had owed to him his settle- ment upon the throne. But Ptolemy was then at war with his sister Cleopatra, to whom their father had jointly brtpicathed the kingdom ; ami his ministers, ap|ireh<'ii(ling that Pouipcy would take the part of Cleopatra, in order to enforce that settl(Muent of which the Roman |)eople were appointed the executors, immediately determined his destruction. The ship which carried Pompt-y and Cornelia had approached w ithin sight of the land, and he despatched a messenger ashore d(>siring an audience of the Egyptian moriarch. A single boat rowed oil' from the laud, in which t ame some offi- VOL. I. !J2 410 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [ROOK IV cers with orders to briiip; him on sliore ; and he parted with many tears from Cornelia, who was justly apprehensive of his safely, but could not foresee all the misery of his fate. They were still in sight of the ship, and Pompcy, who began to fear that he was betrayed, sought to ingratiate hiinse.f with those to whom he was now a prisoner. lie reminded some of them of having served under his banners, when a few years before he was the conqueror of the East ; but they, answering nothing, rowed on in gloomy silence till they reached the land. While Pompey rose to step on shore, he received the stroke of a dagger in his side, and, decently covering his face with his robe, resigned himself to nis fate. They cut off his head, and cast his body naked upon the sand ; where a faithful slave, who had attended him, stealing to the place during the silence of the night, made a small funeral })ile from the fragments of a boat, and burnt the body, carrying the ashes to Cornelia. " Princeps Romani nominis imperio arbi- trioque Egyptii mancipii jngiilatus est. Hie post tres consulatus, at totidem triumphos, domitumque terrarum orbem, vilae fuit exitus. In tantuin in illo viro a se discordante fortuna, ut cui modo ad vic- toriam terra defuerat, deesset ad sepulturam."* Cassar, being told of the course which Pompey had steered, sailed directly to Alexandria. When informed of his fate, he could not restrain his tears ; and when his murderers presented to him the. head of that unhappy man, which they judged must have been to him a grateful spectacle, he turned aside with horror from the sight. He caused every honor to be paid to his memory, and from that time showed the utmost indulgence and even beneficence to the partisans of his unfortunate rival. Those men have a bad opin- ion of human nature, who ascribe this conduct altogether to a refined policy, and account Cresar only the greater hypocrite, the more ex- amples he showed of the milder virtues. An hypothesis so con- trary to every rule of candid judgment, is contradicted by the whole tenor of this truly great man's life. Ptolemy Auleles, the father of the present sovereign of Egypt, nad named, as we before remarked, the Roman people as the executors of his testamentary settlement of the kingdom ; and Caesar, as acting in the name of the republic, now took on him- self the right of deciding between the pretensions of Cleopatra and her brother. The charms of Cleopatra had probably their nifluence on this decision. Such, at least, was the allegation of the partisans of the young Ptolemy, who for several months raain- * " He, the noblest of the Roman name, fell by the orders of an Esryptian bondsman. — Sm-h was tiie miserable end of him who had thrice borne the dig- nity of consul, tlirice been honored with a triiimpii, and been, in fact, the lord of the world. In him so great was the reverse of fortune, that he, who but lately found the earth too small for his conquests, could not now command enoijorh to cover his remains.'' — Veil. Pater, ii. 25. B. C 47.] CESAR. 41 1 tained his cause by force of arms, and besieged Cansar in ilio city of Alexandria. In this war the young Pioloniy was killed, and an accident happened of which the general consequences were more to be deplored; the greater part of the celebrated lil)rary of the Ptolemies was burnt to the ground.* The issue of the war would probably have been fatal to Cssar, had he not received timely succors from Asia. Thus reinforced he brought the king- dom of Egypt under complete subjection, bestowing tl)e sove- reignty jointly on Cleopatra and a younger Ptolemy, a child of eleven years of age, the brother of the last prince. He now turned his arms against Piiarnaces, the son of Mithri- dates, who had seized the kingdom of Pontus, and meditated, after his father's example, to strip the Romans of their Asiatic possessions. This war he very speedily terminated, intimating its issue to his friends at Rome in three words, Feni, vidi, vici.f Thus having established order and tranquillity in the East, Cisar returned to Rome, where he was elected consul for the ensuing year, and dictator, being the third time he had enjoyed both these dignities. Rome stood in need of his presence; for the troops which, under the command of Mark Antony, had remained in Italy, had spread universal disorder and anarchy. The partisans of his late rival were at the same time in arms in Africa, headed bv Sci|)io and Cato, who, together with the sons of Pompey, hail (led thither after the defeat of Pharsalia, and received cordial aid from Juba, king of Mauritania. Ca;sar, dierefore, found the chief obstacle to his ambition in this quarter, and embarking for Africa, was obliged for some time to act with the greatest caution, and avoid a general engagement, with an enemy whose elective A)rces greatly out- numbered his own. lie gained, however, several advantages, and his high reputation, together with the prevailin;;; opinion of that prosperous fortune which had hitherto attended all his enterprises, caused daily desertions to his standards from the ranks of his enp- niies. A favorable situation at length presenting itself, l.o engaged the allied army at Thapsus, and obtained a complete vic- tory. Scipio perished in his passage to Spain. Cato alone remained, whose indomitable spirit no reverse of fortune was capa- ble of forcing to yield to any terms of submission. With an un- daunted resolution, he shut hiiusrif up in Utica with a few noble spirits, who, like himself, disdained to yield to the master of Rome. He formed the [>rincii)al citizens into a senate, and for snuie time * The royal lihrnry of Aloxandrin was said to ronsiMl of scvon hiirxlrrd ihoii- sand volumi's : ol'tlicsi? four liundrt-d tlioii>|io!«it( d in tlio qnartrr of ihe city c;illc(l nnicliioii, won- destroyed on llii'* oecnsioii ; Ihe other part, contain- in"' three hundred thousand, was within the Sera|>enrn, nnH j*sca|»rd the flnnir* ; tliere it was fliat (?Ieopatra deposited tlie two hundred tboiisatul vojumr* of the Perffainean li!)rarv. iriven to her hy Mark Antony. This wan inrr*".!!"'!! from acre to a^e,till it was finally l)iiriit hy ihe caliph (Jniar, in a. d. lil'-. ♦ " I came, I saw, I conipiered." »12 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [llOOK 1> cherished iJ? (Ic.s|)i'r;ite jjiirposo of holdinj; out the town against the whole force which Caesar could bring against it. But the spirits of his parly were not equal to his own, and some of iiis fir'ends venturing to hint a wish for a timely capitulation, Cato counselled them to provide as they judged best for their own safety. After supper, during which he conversed with his usual cheerfulness, he retired to his apartment, and for awhile occupied himself in perusing Plato's Dialogue on the Immortality of the Soul. lie tlicn coiMjiosed himself to sleep, and after a short repose, inciuiring whether his friends had saved themselves by flight, and being assured that all was well, he calmly fell upon his sword. Juba was now driven from his kingdom, and Mauritania became a Roman province. The victorious Caesar returned to Rome. The natural clemency of his disposition now signally displayed itself: he remembered no longer that there had been opposite parties, but showed the same humane indulgence to the friends of Pompey, as if they had never been his enemies. Many of them he raised to offices of dignity and emolument, and found them henceforward the most attached of his partisans. He was decreed a splendid triumph, and on that occasion gratified the people with the most magnificent games and entertainments. Master of the state, he from this lime employed his whole attention in contribut- ing to its prosperity and happiness. He turned his mind to the reformation of abuses of every kind. He repressed luxury by sumptuary laws; stimulated industry by rewards; and by sedu- lously promoting the comforts of the lower class of citizens, gave the most eficctual encouragement to population. While he thus advanced the prosperity of the capital, he introduced order and economy into the government of the provinces, where hitherto every species of oppression and peculation had been permitted and countenanced. The genius of Cajsar was not confined to the arts of government, out carried its researches into every branch of science and philoso- ])hy. The duration of the year at this time was twelve lunai months, with an intercalation of twenty-two or twenty-three days, alternately, at the end of every two years : but the pontift's either "nlroduced or omitted the intercalation according to circumstances, as they wanted to abridge or prolong the time of the magistrates' continuing in office — and thus there was the greatest confusion in the calendar. Caesar, who was a proficient in astronomy, and to whose writings in that science even Ptolemy confesses that he owed information, corrected the errors of the calendar, by fixing the solar year at three hundred and sixty-five days, with an intercalation of one day every fourth year.* "Romulus divided tlie year into ten months, which consisted of three hun- B C. 45. J CESAR IMPERATOR. 413 The sons of Poinpey, Cneius and Sexlus, attempted to rekin- dle the war in Spain ; but they were soon subdued by Caesar in a decisive engagement at Munda. Returning from tliis expedition to Rome, he was hailed the Father of iiis Country, was created consul for ten years, and perpetual dictator. His person was declared sacred; as a symbol of which, he was allowed to wear consianlly a circlet of laurel, hitherto the temporary distinction of a trium])hanl general. In like manner the epithet of imperator, which wsis only occasionally bestowed on the commander of a victorious army, was now conferred on Caesar as a perpetual title of honor, as he was invested for life with the power of chief com- mander of the whole armies of the state. By tl)ese public acts and decrees of the Roman people, accu- mulating the most despotic powers of sovereignty in the i>erson of an individual, the commonwealth of Rome had now voluntarilv resigned its liberties: the ancient republican constitution was at an end; there were none who either had an interest or a desire to maintain it; for the passion for manly independence, and the anx- ious vindication of their rights as free citizens, which in former times animated the great body of the people, and checked all inordinate ambition in individuals, had now given place to that selfish spirit which is content with the pleasures of luxury, and seeks the gratification of its narrow schemes of enjoyment by courting the favor of a sovereign or meanly flattering his pas- sions. The Roman liberty, as Montesquieu has well observed, was not extinguished by the ambition of a Pornpey or of a Cresar. If the sentiments of Caesar and Pompey had been the same with those of Cato, others would have cherished the same ambitious thoughts which they discovered; and since the republic was fated to fall, there never would have been wanting a hand to drag it to destruction. Yet though the fall of a constitution is the necessary and tin- dred and four days; but Nuina added two oiflor iiionlli!5, January and Ffbruary, whicli made his year to contain threo hundred and fitty-fi>ur days. But this computation falhnir short of the space of a ro^^rular year by ton days and »ix hours nearly, occasioned ev(;ry eiirlitli year an interposition of three whole months, whicli they called the intercalary or leap year. The care oT makinij this intercalation being left to the priests, they introduced or omitted a month wlienever they pleased, till at last there was such disorder, that festiviils came to be kept at a season quite diffen-nl from that of their first institution. To remedy these abuses, Julius Ciesiir added the odd ten days to Nnm.i's year ; nnd le.it the odd si.t hours should create conl"usion, he ordered that every fourth year one whole day should be inserted, next after the twenty-third of February, or next before the sixth of the calends of March ; for \vhich reason the supernu- merary day was called dies bis-sextus, and thence the leap year came to he called annus bis-sexlilis. This is the Julian or Old Style. Yet l)ecause there wanted eleyen minutes in the six odd hours of Julius's year, the ecpiinoxes and Bolstices, hisinij something continually, were found, about the ye:ir l.%'^4, to have run back ten wiiole days: for wliich reason I'ope (Jrerrory XIII, rut olT ten days to bring them to thr'ir proper places, and this is called the Gn*go rian or New Stylo. 411 UMVEfisiL /iisToiiy. [dook l\ avt)iii;il)le consequence of the decay of those principles by uliicli it had ()iii;iii:illy been supported, men must reprobate liie instru- ment of usin paiion by which iheir ruin is finally accomplished. In this point of view the conduct of Caesar cannot be vindicated on 'tljo score of right. He was an usurper; and had it been possible to restore the Roman liberty and the ancient fabric of the com- monwcahh by the extinction of the tyrant, an open and manly use of the sword for his destruction had been a meritorious and patriotic attempt. But here lay the delusion: it may be the fact, that those men who accomplished the death of Caesar acted upon principles truly virtuous and patriotic; they did perhaps believe, that by his death, they would restore the liberty and ancient constitution of their country: but we must deplore the narrowness of their views who did not perceive that an internal principle of corruption had annihilated the one, and must have proceeded to extinguish the other, although Julius Csesar had never been born. Even Cicero, whose political jtrinciples led him to approve of the death of Caesar, candidly owns that the republic gained nothing by that event: — " Inlerfecto domino, liberi non sumus: non fuit dominus ille fugiendus: sublato enim tyranno, tyrannida manere video." * The personal character, too, of this illustrious man has greatly contributed to increase the censure of those who conspired and accomplished his death; f but in impartial reasoning on the merit or demerit of this action, it is not equitable to allow force to such considerations. The magnificent schemes of a public nature which Ca:sar had formed would certainly have contributed both to his own glory and to the interest and happiness of the people whom he govern- ed;, and a just sense of these benefits was doubtless the principal "'•The master is slain, but we are not the more free. It was not he who was to he dreaded. The tyrant is indeed removed, but the tyranny remains.' Cic. ad Auic. xiv. 14. t Julius Cffisar united in himself more of the advantages of mind and body than perhaps, any of liis contemporaries, and to these were added the splendor of ancestry ; for he could trace his pedi^'ree, on his mother's side, up to Ancus Marlius; and the Julian family, of which he was the head, were generally be- lieved to have descended frf)m the Trojan ^neas. Velleius Paterculus thus shortly enumerates these striking characteristics of Csesar : — "Hie nobilissima Juliorum genitus familia, et quod inter omnes antiquissimos constabat, ab Anchise et Venere deducens genus, forma omnium civium excellentissiraus, vigore animi acerritnus, munificentia effusissimus, animo supra humanain et naturam ct fidem evectus, magnitudine cogitationum, celeritate bellandi, pa- lienlia periculorum, magno illi Alexandro, sed sobrio nee iracundo, simillimus " Veil. Pat. ii. 41 " Born of the most illustrious family of the Julii, and tracing his highest de- /^ent from Anchises and Venus, he excelled all his fellow citizens in the graces of his person, the vigor of his mind, and the splendor of his munificence; and that to a degree not only beyond human nature, but beyond human conception • in the magnitude of his designs, his promptitude in war, his indifference to danger, he was the equal of the great Alexander, but in command over himself far his superior." B. C. 11.] DEATH OF CiSAR. 415 cause of hu popii.arity while alive, and of the splendid reputation which has attended his memory. He had proposed to collect, arrange, and methodize the laws of his country. He had em- ployed the most learned men of his times to collect libraries for the public use. He had planned the most magnificent structures for the embellishment of the city, and the preservation of the public records. He projected the draining of the marshes of Italy, which rendered the whole country unwliolesome; the deepennig the bed of the Tiber, and the construction of a harbor at the mouth of that river capable of receiving the largest vessels both for war and merchandise. We have noticed the reforms which he introduced in the government of the provinces. He proposed to have a complete survey and geographical delineation made of the whole Roman empire. These were certainly schemes equally splendid and beneficial to the public. They create a just admira- tion of the character of Caesar, and make us regret that blind and infatuated zeal which frustrated the accomplishment of those great designs, without giving in exchange for them any real or substantial good. It was almost the only weakness of this truly great man, that, possessing the reality of sovereign power, he was not satisfied without obtaining likewise its external pageantry. To graiily this frivolous passion, the senate had decreed him the privilege of con- stantly wearing the triumphal robe, of having a gilded chair of state, and of taking the precedence of all the magistrates of the common- wealth. He was allowed a constant escort of knights and senators; his birthday was ordained to be solemnized as a festival through the whole empire, and a temple was built and priests appointed to offer sacrifice unto the Julian Jupiter. It was generally believed that he coveted a yet more dangerous distinction, and had determined that the title of king, whicii, from the days of the last Tan]uin, had been odious to every Roman ear, should be revived in his person. Tiie report was current that a party of the senators had determined to crown him in public by that title on the ides of March. A con- spiracy had been for some time formed, at the head of which were Marcus Brutus and Caius Cassius, whom Capsar had placed on the list of i)ra?tors, and intrusted with the higher jurisdiction of the city — the former a man whom he had reason to believe most sincerely attached to him, as he had saved his life at the battle of Pharsalia, and given him numberless proofs of his atlection. The conspira- tors determined to execute their purpose on that day wliich had been destined for bestowing on Cjcsar the regal title. He had no sooner taken his place in tlie senate-house, than the conspirators, surrounding him, plunged their daggers into his body : he defended himself for some lime,"ti.ll seeinc Brutus among the assassins, whom he had alwavs distin2;iiisl)ed by the epithet of his son, he resigned himself to liis fate, and fell, pierced with twenty-three wounds, tt tiie foot of Pompey's statue 416 t;nivkrsai, history. [hook iv TIk; coinpiiiilois had no soontT accomplished iheir ))tir|)0.so ihan they ran lliron^h the streets of the city, proeliiiniiiii; aloud thai the kiiif^ of Home was dead; l)ut the cd'ect (Ynl not answer their expectation. The j)eople, ahiiost to a man, seemed struck with horror at the deed. They loved Cscsar, master as he was of their lives and liherties. Mark Antony, who was consul, and Lepidus, •he general of the horse, ambitious themselves of succeeding to the power of dictator, resolved to pave the way for it by avenging his death. The senate was convoked to determine whether tlie ordi- nances of the late dictator had the force of law, — that is to say, whether Ca3sar was an usurper, or was invested with legal au- thority. It was a nice question, but it required an immediate de- termination. The senators were of opposite opinions. The party of the assassins was formidable, from the experience of what they had the courage to attempt : yet the extreme disorder that must have ensued from annulling all the laws and regulations of the dictator made it a thing impossible to be thought of in the present situation of afTairs. The senate had recourse to an equivocal, and, in fact, a contradictory decree; which was, to confirm all the laws of Caesar, and to declare at the same time that his murderers should not be prosecuted. But the latter part of this decree was evaded by the art of Antony, who determined to call forth the vengeance of the people upon the heads of those men whom he justly regarded as the chief obstacles to his own designs of am- bition. Cassar had adopted Caius Octavius, the grandson of his sister Julia, and left him heir to the greatest part of his fortune. He had appointed several of the conspirators themselves for his tutors, and had bequeathed a large legacy to the people of Rome, to be divided among the whole of the citizens. These bequests redoubled the affection of the people, and they flocked to attend his obse- quies, penetrated with the highest regard to his memory, and with the utmost indignation against his murderers. Mark Antony took advantage of these favorable dispositions. The body being laid on a couch of state in the forwn, he mounted the consul's tribunal, and after reading the decree of the senate, which had conferred upon Caesar even the honors due to a divinity, he entered into an enumeration of all his illustrious achievements for the glory and aggrandizement of the state : he then proceeded to recount the examples of his clemency, and heightened all his virtues with the most pathetic eloquence. " By these titles we have sworn that his person should be held sacred and inviolable; and here (said he) behold the force of our oaths." At these words he lifted up the robe which covered the body, and holding it out to the people, who melted into tears, he showed it all covered with blood, and pierced with the daggers of the conspirators. A general cry of vengeance was heard. The populace strove to increase the funeral nile, by throwing into it their most precious effects; while numbers B. C. 44. J OBSEQUIES OF CESAR. 4 1 ^ ran to dostioy and set fire to the houses of the inurdere's. These at first fled to the capitol for safely ; hut finding their lives even there in tlie utmost hazard, prudently quitted tlie city, and sought shelter in (he distant provinces. The Consul Antony, by the steps he had hiiiierto taken, wanted only to sound the dispositions of the people. Finding these to his wish, he very soon began to discover his own views of ambition. He was possessed of the whole of the dictator's papers. He had received likewise from Calpurnia, the widow, all the treasures of Caesar. Not content with these, he made a traffic of fabricating acts and deeds, to which he counterfeited tlie dictator's subscription, and availed himself of them as genuine. He next persuaded the senate, on pretence that his personal safety was in danger, to allow him a guard ; and under that decree, he chose six thousand of the ablest veterans, whom he embodied and armed. Thus secured, he found himself absolute master in Rome. In all revolutions there are critical moments when all that is re- quisite to the attainment of the supreme power is the courage to assume it. But the ambition of Antony was frustrated by the measures of a rival against whom he had not provided. The young Octavii:.; arrived in Rome; and declaring himself the heir of Cresar, foun'! no other title necessary to gain the favor of the people, — a power- ful stimulant to the ambitious plan he had secretly formed of suc- ceeding to the full power of the dictator. Pursuing the same object with Antony, it was impossible they could long be on good terms. An open rupture ensued on account of the government of Cisalpine Gaul, which Antony, in opposition to the will of the dictator, who had decreed it to Decimus Brutus, endeavored to secure for himself. This province, from its vicinity to the capital, was always of prime imjiortance to the ruler of the state. Octaviiis on this occasion armed against him, in order to enforce the will of his adopted father. He hud the address to persuade the senate into his views, and to inspire them with a dread of the ambition of his rival. But after some indecisive acts of hostility, Octavius and Antony, finding their parties very nearly balanced, judged it for the present to be their most prudent scheme to unite their interests, and to admit into their association Lcpidiis, who then enjoyed the government of Transalpine Gaul. Thus was formed the second triumvirate, the effects of whose union were beyond measmc dreadful. Octavius, Mark Antony, and Lepidiis held a conference in a small island in the middle of the river Vo. They agreed that, under the title of Triumviri, they should possess themselves of absolute authority ; and they made a partition on the spot of all the provinces, and divided between them the com- mand of the legions. Lepidus had Gallia Narbonnensis and Spain ; Antony had Cisalpine and Transalpine Gaul ; Octavius contented himself with .\frica, Sicily, and Sardinia. None of them VOL. I. 53 4in UNIVKIISAI. IIISTOUY. BOOK IV ventured to np|)ro[)rialo to liinisclf Italy; because llicy afTected to regard that country as tlic communis patria, which they were all e(jiially hoiiml to protect and defend. The eastern provinces were as yet possessed by Brntus anrl the other cons|)irators, against whom it was d(;terniincd that Antony and Octavius should imme- diately inarch with a large army. Before entering, however, upon this expedition, it was resolved lo clear the way by a proscription of all that were obnoxious to any one of the triiimviri : a dreadful resolution! since the firmest friends of any one of the three had necessarily been the enemies of the others What souls must those men have possessed who could advise or consent to so horrible a scheme' Lepidus agreed to sacrifice his brother Paulus ; Antony, his uncle Lucius Caesar; Octavius, his guardian Torranius, and his friend Cicero. The latter had been won by the flattery of Octavius, lo espouse his interest by unmasking the ambitious design of Antony to succeed to the power of the dictator ; on which occasion, Cicero pro- nounced his famous Philippics, in imitation of the orations of De- mosthenes to rouse the spirit of the Greeks against the designs of the Macedonian tyrant. It was no wonder, then, that Antony should mark this illustrious man as a certain victim of his revenge. Cicero, who had never been remarkable for strength of mind, showed more magnanimity on this occasion than he had ever be- fore manifested. When informed that his name was included in the proscription, he yielded at first to the earnest persuasion of his friends to attempt to save himself by flight : but on being informed that the country was beset by his enemies, so as to leave no chance for his esrajie, he desired to be carried to one of his own villas. On |)erceiving the approach of a band of soldiers, who were com- missioned to assassinate him, he ordered bis litter to be stopped, beheld his murderers with a fixed regard, and stretched out his neck to the blow. A fragment of one of the lost books of Livy gives a striking description of this last scene in the life of Cicero. After judiciously remarking, that amidst all the reverses of fortune which this great man had undergone, it was only on this last occasion that he displayed true magnanimity, the historian adds these words: Si- quis tamen virtidibns vitia pensdrit^ rir magnns^ ncer, memoinbnlis fxtit^ et in cnjus laudes perseqii^ndas Cicerone laudatorc opnsfiterit.* In this horrible proscription, 300 senators and 3,000 Roman knights were put to death in cold blood. Satiated, at length, with murder, the triumvirate prepared for their expedition against the conspirators. Lepidus remained in Rome, while Antony and Octavius marched against Brutus and Cassius, then in Macedonia. No Roman armies had ever been ""nut wcinrliintT hi3 preal qualities with his fiilintrs. he was a ereat and inost alile man, to do justice to whose praises would require a ;econd Cicero' B. C. 32.] BATTLE OF PHILIPPI. 419 seen equal in number to those uliich were now to decide ihe fate of tlie world. Each parly led into the field above 100,000 nwn. They met near the town of Pliilippi, on the confines of Macedo- nia. This decisive battle was fought on both sides with the most desperate courage. Brutus was victorious at the head of that di- vision which he commanded; but too rashly |)ursuing his success, he separated himself from the main body of the army, which in the meantime was vigorously attacked by Antony, and entirely broken. Cassius, ignorant of what had become of Brutus, and believing that all was lost, obliged one of his own freedmcn to put him to death. The plan of Brutus, who had come off in safety with a large body of men, was evidently now to avoid a second engagement: but his troops, flushed with their individual success, forced him to come to action, and he was totally defeated. Con- vinced that the chances of success were now irretrievably gone, and well-assured of the fate he had to expect from the conquerors, he chose to deprive his enemies at least of one victim, and, fall- ing on his sword, he died the death of his friend Cassius. Octavius appears in this decisive action to have behaved in no heroic manner. It was even asserted that he chose to post him- self among the baggage in the rear, during the whole time of the engagement ; and such a report, even if we suppose it a false- hood, is, at least, a proof that he had not the reputation of valor. Mark Antony had real courage, and after victory displayed that generosity which is ever its attendant; while the former exhibited a cruelty of nature which is the inseparable companion of cow- ardice. He caused the most distinguished of the prisoners to be slanglitercd before his eyes, and even insulted them in the agonies of death. The Triumvirs were obliged to gratify their troops with very high rewards. To furnish, a supply for that necessary j)urpose, Antony went into Asia, where he levied the most exorbitant con- tributions from the tributary states. While in Cilicia, he sum- moned Cleopatra, who, by assassinating her brother, had secured to herself the undivided sovereignty of Egypt, to appear before him, and answer for her conduct in allowing Serapion, her lieuten- ant in the isle of Cyprus, to send succors to Cassius. The queen came to Tarsus. Iler beaut)-, the splendor of her suite and equi- j)age, and the artful allurements of her manners, made a complete conquest of the triumvir. He forgot glory, ambition, Hime, and every thing for Cleopatra. Octavius, nieantimc, thought of nothing but his own interest and exaltation, to which he regarded the in- fatuation of Antony as a most happy ])rei)aralive. The younger Pom[)ey had taken |iossession of Sicily, of Sardi- nia, and Corsica. Octavius now turned his attention to this (]uar- ter; but incapable himself of comuianding in a military expedi- tion, he em|)loyed Marcus A'rrippa, a man of uncommon talents, whom he had raised from obscuiity to the consulshij); and wlio 420 IJMVF.RSAI, HISTORY. [dOOK IV very speedily compcllod Pompoy to ovaciintc Sicily aiKJ all iiis otilor [)Ossessions, and fly into Asia, where he was put to death by the lieutenants of Antony. Octavius now determined to rid himself of the partners of hi"* power. Lepidus, a man of an indolent character and no talent, had already lost all credit, even with his own troops. The legions under his command, won l)y the bribes and promises of Octavius, dr.«ertc(l their general, who, sensible of his own insufficiency, souglit permission lo retire to Circ;rum, on the Latian coast, where he passed the remainder of his life in quiet obscurity. It has been well remarked of this man, who for some time sustained a high part in the political drama of the times, that he had neither those virtues nor those vices for which the names of men are trans- mitted with distinction to posterity. Antony, in the meantime, intoxicated with Eastern luxury and debauchery, was daily sinking in the esteem of his army. In the madness of his passion for Cleopatra, he had proclaimed her queen of Egypt, Cyprus, Africa, and Coelo-Syria; and lavished king- doms and provinces on the children that were the fruit of her va- rious amours. These shameless proceedings reflected dishonor on the Roman name, and deprived him of the esteem of his best friends; and the imprudent measure he now took in divorcing his wife Octavia, the sister of his colleague, was a justifiable cause for their coming to an open rupture, and appealing to the sword to decide their claim to undivided sovereignty of the empire. Octa- vius had foreseen this issue, and made formidable preparations, which Antony had supinely neglected. He trusted chiefly to his fleet, and was persuaded by Cleopatra to rest the fortune of the war on a naval engagement, which was fought near Actium in Epirus. In the heat of the battle, which was maintained for some time with equal spirit, Cleopatra, with her Egyptian armament of sixty galleys, took to flight; and what is scarcely conceivable, such was the infatuation of Antony, that he followed her, leaving his fleet to fight for themselves. After a contest of some hours, they yielded to the squadron of Octavius. The army of Antony, which had witnessed this engagement from the land, held out for a few days, in hopes of the return of their commander, but at length seeing their expectation vain, they surrendered to the vic- tor. The flight of Cleopatra had been attributed by Antony to female timidity; but her subsequent conduct gave full reason to believe it shameful treachery. Octavius pursued the fugitive? to Egypt, where Antony, in desperate infatuation, gave himself up entirely to riot and debauchery, still blind to the treacherous character of his paramou> who, in the meantime, was carrying on a secret negotiation with Octavius, on whom she vainly imagined that her personal charms might have such influence as to procure her association in the supreme power and government of the Ro- CII. HI. J NATIONAL CHARACTER OF THE ROMAN*. 421 man empire. In this view she siirrcndered to liiiii the soverei2,nty of Egypt, while, without positively asseiiiing to her terms, Octa- vius gave her reason to believe that he was not disiaclined to an accommodation that would gratify her utmost auibition. iMeaniime Octavius advancing with his army to besiege Pclu- sium, its governor, instructed by Cleopatra, surrendered the city at discretion, and this event was followed by the surrender of the Egyptian fleet. The eyes of Antony were at length opened. He plainly saw that he was betrayed. A report which Cleopatra caused to be spread, that she had put an end to her life, hastened the fate of her injured lover, who died by his own hand; and Cleopatra, soon after, discovering that all arts were lost ii))on Oc- tavius, who had determined to treat her as a captive, now exe- cuted in reality what she had before feigned, and j)ut herst^lf to death by the poison of an asp. Octavius returned to Italy, sole master of the Roman Empire lie owed his elevation to no manly virtue or heroism of character A concurrence of happy circumstances, the aiioption of the great Julius, the weakness of Lepidus, the folly and infatuation of An- tony, the treachery of Cleopatra, and, above all, his own address and artifice, were the instruments of his fortune. At this remarkable period, the end of the Commonwealth of Rome, it may be well to suspend for a while our historical narra- tive, and interpose some brief observations on the general charac- ter of Roman education ; the state of literature at this period ; the predominant tastes and passions of this remarkable people ; and the system of their military art. CHAPTER III. {yn llie Cioniiis and Nalionnl Cliamctor of thn Roman* — Sysfom of Roinsn Enr(\ssiiin Itnmano nc S«Minti«ri huussissp, tii priv denlia inatris incenauin ac lla;jriinU'iii aniimim cocrcuisset." — Taeitut igrm Vit., c. iv. ! In Libro ile Claris Oratoribus. AI. edit., folio, vol. ii. p. 2.")7. 421 UMvr-.nsAL ihstoiiy [kook iv. Uie mail is iiilluciiccd by llie earliest impressions and liubits of in- fancy. They suspected, and not without just grounds, thai they who became familiar with the language and expressions of their slaves, were likely to be initiated also in their vices, and to become 'econciled to their ideas of servility and dependence. That ur- banity upon which this people so much prided themselves in the iiore advanced periods of the commonwealth, was nothing else •ban a certain manly elegance which distinguished the Roman citi- tens from those nations whom they accounted barbarous. This elegance was particularly evinced in their speech and gestures, tnd it was one of their first objects to form their youth with those .jualities in which they most piqued themselves in excelling. To accustom a child to speak in a manly manner is, in fact, no unlikely method of teaching him to act so.* But this attention to the language of their youth had another source among tlie Romans. It was by the art of eloquence, by the power wliicli that talent gave them over the minds of the people, and the influence which it possessed in the open deliberations of the popular assemblies, that the young Romans could alone rise to eminence, to office, and to dignity. History is full of exami)les of men who, by their excel- lence in this talent alone, had risen from the lowest condition amongst the plebeians, to the highest ranks in the state. To instil, therefore, at an early age, the elements of elocution, and to habit- uate the youth to those studies properly called forensic, was one great object of the Roman education. As an exercise of mcmoi-}', the children were taught to repeat the laws of the XII Tables, and they were accustomed very early to plead fictitious causes. Plutarch tells us, in his life of the younger Cato, that, among the sports or plays of the Roman children, one was that of pleading causes before a mock tribunal, and accusing and defending a crimi- nal in all the accustomed forms of judicial procedure. The exercises of the bod}- were likewise particularly attended to. Wrestling, running, boxing, swimming, using the bow and javelin, managing the horse, and, in short, whatever might harden the body and increase its strength and activity, were all reckoned necessary parts of education. Most of these warlike exercises were practised daily in the Campus Martins. The elder Cato not only instructed his son in grammar, and in the study of the law, but taught him also all these athletic accomplishments. At the age of seventeen, which was the period wlien the young Roman assumed the toga virilis, the youth was committed by his father to the care of one of the masters or public professors of rhetoric, whom he attended constantly to the forum, and there em- ployed himself in taking notes from the speakers, of whose ha- rangues he afterwards gave an account to his preceptor. • " Talis hominibus oratio qualis vita." Seneca Episl. 114 CII. HI.] ROMAN EDUCATION. 425 It must not appear extraordinary that this mode of ediicaiion should have been common to all the ycung patricians, whether their inclination led them to the camp or to the bar ; for as every citizen of Rome was a branch of its legislative system, the profes- sion of arms became no apology for the want of that ability of maintaining the rights of the state in the assemblies of the people, which was equally necessary with the capacity of defending them in the field. If a public officer was accused, it was reckoned shameful if he could not himself give an account of his conduct, and plead his own cause. A senator who could not support his opinion by the ingenuity of argument or force of eloquence, was an object of contempt to the people. " Paruin fuit in senatu bi'cviter censere, nisi qui ingenio et eloquentia sententiam suam te- neretur ; disertum haberi, pulchrum ct gloriosum, sed contra mu- luni et elinguem videri deforme haliebatur." But it was not alone the cultivation of eloquence which was esteemed a necessary part of education. It was reckoned dishonorable for any person of the patrician rank not to have thoroughly studied the laws and the con- stitution of his country. In one of the laws of the Roman pan- dects, an anecdote is recorded of Sulpitius, a gentleman of the patrician order, who had occasion to resort for advice to Quintu? Mucins Scaevola, then the most eminent lawyer in Rome. Though otherwise an accomplished orator, Sulpitius had neglected the study of the law, and, from ignorance of the technical terms, lie did not comprehend the meaning of ScKvola's opinion'^ upon which he received from the lawyer this memorable reproof, "that it was a shame for a patrician, a nobleman, and an orator, to be ignorant of that law in which he was so particularly concerned." Sulpitius felt the reproach, and applied himself to the study of jurisprudence, in which he became so eminent as, in Cicero's opinion, to excel Sca^vola himself.* To be an accomplished gentleman, therefore, it was necessary among the Romans to be an accomplished lawyer and orator; and what were the requisites for atlaininj; eminence in those depart- ments, we may learn from the writings of Cicero, Quintilian, and the vo^nger Pliny. The {)ains those illustrious men bestowed to arrive at that excellence which distinguished them, appear almost incredible to those bred up in the less laborious eflbrts of modern literature. Pliny, in speaking o/ his public orations, whicij ho always committed to writing, describes thus the labor of their revi- sion : — " Nullum emendandi genus omitto ; ac primum quae scripsi mecum ipse ])eriracto ; deindc duobus aut tribus lego, mox aliis trado adnotanda, notasqtie eorum si dubito cum iino rursns aut al- tero pensito ; novissiuio pluribus recito ; ac si quid milii credis acerrime emendo ; cogito qnam sit magnum dare aliquid in inaiuw • !^in More than to all those fadinij moniiincntg lluilt with the riches of the Hpoiled world." VOL. I. 55 434 UMVKUSAI. HISTORY. [nOOK IV faults. Ill ilif? iiarniLivc of tlio.se great events with uhicli his his- lory i-i occiipiL'tl, he ascribes too much to the operation of deej) and artful schenies of policy. His ingenious and intriguing inind is ev(;r restlessly searching in the regions of conjecture for some dark or mysterious motive of conduct, ascribing too little to the indnence of more simple and apparent causes, and eager to grasp at every shadow of a reason, provided it be sufTiciently uncommon or unnatural. Too often mere probabilities are stated as demon- stratively certain, and bare conjectures assume the tone of decided truths. In addition to this fault, which resulted from a desire of being more than commonly acute, in accounting for even the most trilling events, there is in Tacitus an unnecessary brevity, and mysteriousness of style, which reminds us sometimes of the same affectation in Sallust. It is by no means to be wondered at that an author whose train of thought is so uncommon, and whose lan- guage is generally so concise, should not unfrequently require a considerable effort to be understood at all. And it would be well if all authors would recollect that they are writing for posterity, as well as for their own age; that their works, if intrinsically val- uable, will be read when time shall have deprived future nations of that deep and critical knowledge of the language in which they were written which belongs to their contemporaries; and, there- fore, that the most simple and unambiguous style will ever be the most lasting. Still, however, Tacitus is, in many respects, an un- rivalled historian, and it is the effect even of that fault above mentioned, that he has penetrated with more acuteness into the secret springs of human policy, and developed with more sagacity the causes of great events than most others. Let us now attend to the character and merits of the most cele- brated of the Roman poets. In addition to the dramatists whom we have already adverted to, the only poets who wrote during the period of the common- wealth were Lucretius and Tibullus. A philosophic poem is, of all literary productions, the least likely to be successful; and Lu- cretius, so far as philosophy is concerned, is ponderous and verbose in his expression, perplexed in his meaning, rugged in his versifi- cation. He had in him, however, the materials of a true poet; and not unfrequently, where he has shaken himself loose of his unlortunate subject, he rises into passages of uncommon brilliancy. But the misfortune is, that that luxuriance of imagination which is the very soul of poetry, appears folly and absurdity when appli- ed to philosophy. The Cardinal de Polignac, in his Jlnti-Lucre- tius; Buchanan in his poem De Sphccra; and Darwin, in his various botanical, mechanical, and philosophic rhapsodies, have all strongly corroborated the truth of this observation. All of them— and in no common degree the first — have scattered throughout the rugged materials of their works the real gems of poetry; all of them evince what they could have been by splendid passages; but CH. III.] nO.MA.V LITERATURE. 435 all of them have been tied down, by the nature of their sultject, to a species of dry ratiocination, or of tedious particularity, which is either too dull to be convincing, or too detailed to be jjoeiical. Lucretius himself, perhaps, owes his immortalitv to some two or \hree hundred glorious lines, altogether parenthetical as regards his main design. Catullus was the contemporary of Lucretius. The characier- istics of his poetry, which consisted of odes, epigrams, and idylli- iirns, (and which was entirely formed on the model of the Greek school,) appear to be a learned purity of diction, a certain ele- gance and suavity in his sentences, a virulent and biting strain of satire, and, in his amatory pieces, a voluptuous and highly colored imagery, which too often degenerates into broad licentious- ness. In the succeeding age of Augustus, the poetic genius of the Romans attained to the pitch of its highest elevation. Virgil, Horace, Ovid, and Tibullus, were all conteinporaries ; and it may be safely asserted that these poets, in their several departments, were never equalled in any one of die succeeding ages of the empire. To offer here a minute criticism upon the poetry of Virgil would be both unnecessary and impertinent. Every one, on this head, has read, thought, and felt for himself. Rising into the sublime in many places where his subject naturally demands it; tender and pathetic in others, where the situation of his characters calls ne- cessarily for these touches ; luxuriant yet terse in his descriptions of scenery; grave, moral, and eloquent in his sentiments, and at the same time combining and regulating all these uncommon ex- cellences by the utmost purity and correctness of taste, it was impossible but that the poet, who united in himself sucli various and uncommon powers, should have been the admiration of his own, and the model to succeeding, ages. Horace, the friend and contemporary of Virgil, is to ne consid- ered in three difterent lights, — as a lyric poet, a satirist, and a critic. In all he is excellent. In his odes, he has greater rariettj than any of his Greek predecessors appear to have attained ; and he has probably equalled the most of them in their several depart- ments. The great ciiarin, however, is in the varied turn of his expressions, that curiosa fclicitas (to use a term of Petrnnius) which no other lyric poet has ever reached. His satires, on the other band, possess a gentlemanlike slyness and obliquity of cen- sure which distinguish them toto ccclo from the keen and cutting sarcasm of Juvenal.* * To form a just estimate of the comparative merits of Juvenal ami Horace as satirists, we nave only to compare liiose iiatireH wlit-re the two purls profewi to treat the same topics, as tlie eiijhlh of Jiivrnal with the sixth ot" the 1st Itivik of Horace, where the subject is a disnisttion on true nubility, or iJii- iiiiih of Juvenal witli the first of the Ist Book of Horace. Xir, iiMVF.n^Ai. iiisTonT. [book iv As a rrltic, ilii- nilos whicli Horace lias pivcn are almost ontirely Dormwcd from AristoiU.' ; Ijiil he has arrarij!;r'(l tlicrii with iliat acute and admirable judgment, and illustrated tlicrn with that ap- titude of imnj;('iy which are consj)icuous in the rest of his poetical compositions. Ovid is the next and last of th;it constellation of poets which fornted the honor of the Augustan age. In what we term geniim^ he is defidcdly inferior hoth to Virgil and Horare. lie is defifient in grandeur of concej)tion, in sim|)licily of expression, anrl in tjint high-wrought and ardent imagination which is the accompaniment of the more lofty kinds of genius. But if he wants all this, he possesses still many excellences. His invention is astonishing : in variety of story, in ingenuity of connection, in the profusion and ficiiity of his versification, he cannot be surpassed. He is, in these rcs])ects, a kind of Ariosto amongst the ancients. But even these irreat qualities have led him into errors. He is generally too diffuse to be grand or forcible — too jiarlicular, too much a lover of the de- tail of description, ever to reach the sublime. He is, in the words vf Quintiliaii, nimium amator sui ingenii — too fond of his own ngenuity. His learning becomes too often tedious, his narration prolix, his invention puerile. He possesses, in short, more of those minor qualifications which are necessary to constitute a true poet than any of his contemporaries: — he can be tender, harmoni- ous, pathetic, and sometimes eloquent; — but if he is ever great, it is only in a few insulated passages, which are scattered through his works. It is more, perhaps, the effect of chance or of imita- tion, than of that steady ray of genius which illuminates the nobler work of his friend and contcmj)orary Virgil. The elegies of Tibnllus are elegant, but generally insipid. They never offend, but they seldom move ; he is a pleasing, but not an original poet, and, owing to an extreme poverty of fancy, he is constantly pacing the same beaten track, eodem pane gyro con- chidilur. The last of the Roman poets whom we may call truly excellent in his own department is Martial . The sense which the ancients appear to have afUxed to the term " epigram," appears to have been very different from its common acceptation in the present day. By epigram we generally understand some happy or amusing conceit, some sudden ebullition of wit, or humor, expressed in a short and sententious distich. According to the meaning of the ancients, however, there was no limitation as to these qualities. Any happy turn of thought, whether playful or serious, expressed in poetical language, was denominated an epigram. It is for this reason that, amongst the Anthologies of the Greeks, we meet with epigrams which are alternately written in a jocose or serious strain, and which, if they are often smart and humorous, are as frequently tender and pathetic. Such is in truth the real character of the Ej)igrams of Martial ; and the execution of these, to whatever OH. iV. , ROMAN LlTEnATURE. 437 class they belong, is for the most part peculiarly hap|)y. Yet be has many faults. His ingenuity and quickness have often betray- ed him mlo overstrained and artificial conceits. Conscious of a peculiar talent in discerning remote, though often ludicrous anal- ogies, he is ever too anxious to display this. He j)lays too much upon the sense, and puns too frequently on the sound and mean- ing of his words; and he has that unpardonable fault, so conunon to the age in which he wrote, of introducing an obscenity and licentiousness into his verses, which, aUhough it recommend>:Q them to that degraded people for whom he wrote, is fortunately too gross to produce any serious mischief, or to create any other feeling than that of disgust. The first symptom of the corruption of writing is a •species of false and inflated style, a luxuriance of ornament, and a fondness for quaint and pointed terms of expression. This was discernible even in Martial. When these succeed to, or rather usurp, the place of the chaste, manly, and simple mode of expression — of that style which attends more to the sense which it conveys, than to the terms or manner in which it is constructed, it is a certain indication of the decay of a just and genuine taste. Even in the end of the reign of Augustus, poetry seems to have been rather on the decline; and in the succeeding age, if we except the com- positions of Martial and Juvenal, nature and simplicity had almost entirely given place to bombast and aftectation. Although in Lucan we find some scattered examples of genuine poetic imagery, and in Persius several happy strokes of keen and animated satire, yet they hardly repay the trouble of wading through the unnatura' fustian of the one, or the affected obscurity of the other — who, however, we should remember, wrote the pieces which remain to u? in early youth. CHAPTER IV. Roman Philosophy — Public and Private Manners. In the present chapter, I shall consider, in the first j)lace, the state of philosophy, amongst the Romans, and afterwards proceed to the subject of their public and private manners. In the early ages of the republic, the Romans, occupied in continual wars with the states of Italy, or, in the short intervals of respite from these, 438 UiNIVEIlSAI, IIISTOUV. L''^^'^ i^ engrossed in llieir domeslic dissensions, liad lilile leisure lo bestow on the cultivation of the sciences, and had no idea of philosopliical speculation. It was not till the end of the sixth century, after the huildinj; of the city, and in the interval between the war with Per- seus of Maccdon and the third Punic war, that j)hilosophy n)ade its first appearance at Rome. A namber of Achaians, banished from their native country, had settled in Italy. Part of these, amongst whom were some men of talents and learning, particularly Poly- bius the Megalopolitan, took up their abode at Rome, and ajtplying themselves there to the pursuit of letters and the education of the Roman youth, soon diffused a relish for these studids, hitherto unknown to the rising republic. This new taste was, as I have hinted at in'lhe former chapter, very unfavorably regarded by the older citizens. The senators, who lived in a perpetual struggle with a people jealous of their civil rights, were in no measure disposed to encourage philosophical disquisitions on the origin of government, on the foundation of liberty, and the natural rights of mankind. To repress, therefore, such dangerous studies, this body ))assed a decree, banishing those foreign philosophers from their city. This, however, was an ineffectual remedy. The pas- sion for literature may perhaps be cherished by political encour- agements, but once roused it is not easily extinguished by political restraints. A few years after this, Carneades and Critolaus, ar- rived in an Athenian embassy at Rome; the discourses of these philosophers added new strength and vigor to that taste whose first efforts the Roman senate had in vain attempted to extinguish, and the Greek philosophy soon became as generally relished in this era of the republic, as during its earliest ages it had been either unknown or despised. It was natural that, in the choice among the different systems which the several sects or schools of Greek philosophy presented, those tenets should be most favorably received and most generally adopted, which accorded most with the national character and genius of the people. The Romans had not yet shaken off the severity of ancient manners, and the doctrines of the Stoical phi- losophy were, therefore, most nearly allied to their own previous conceptions of morality. The philosophy of Aristotle was in truth little known in Rome till the age of Cicero. Cratij)pus then taught his system with great reputation, though that unnecessarily tedious and complicated mode of reasoning adopted by this |)hi- losoj)her does not appear ever to have had a numerous party to support it. Lucullus, whose stay in Greece afforded him an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the doctrines of all the different schools, at his return to Rome disseminated a very gen- eral taste for philosophising. He does not, indeed, appear to have attacn«=:d himself exclusively to the tenets of any particular sect. If he inad a preference for any, it was for that of Plato. The philosophy of the New Academy, which professed to teach the art CH. IV. 1 ROMAN rilll.OSOPllT. 439 of defending all opinions, would necessarily find its partisans among the lawyers and orators. Cicero, if he professed any settled sys- tem at all, (a point which his philosophical writings leave very enigmatical,) seems most attaclieil to this. The truth probably is, that, in his philosophical works, his g?n- eral jjuipose was to give rather a history of the ancient philosophy, than any defence or exposition of his own j)eculiar opinions ; to explain to his countrymen in their own language whatever the philosophers of all sects and all ages had taught, with a view to- wards the enlargement of their understanding, and the improving of their morals. This he declares to be his purpose in his '' Trea- tise de Finibus," in that, De Natura Deoruin, in his " Ttisculan Disputations," and in his book on the Academic Philosophy. As to pliysics, or natural |)liilosoi)hy, Cicero seems to have entertain- ed the same opinion with Socrates — that a minute and particular attention to these inquiries was a study rather curious than useful, and contributing but little to the real benefit of mankind — a very extraordinary idea, but which seems to have been prevalent with most of the ancient philosophers, if we except Aristotle and the elder Pliny. It was reserved for our own country, in a future and more enlightened age of the world, to lay, in this severe and criti- cal examination of Nature, which was tlien so much despised, the solid basis of all true and genuine |)hilosophy. Of the writings and principles of Aristotle a particular account has been given in treating of the progress of philosophy amongst the Greeks. No- thing need here be added upon this subject. The elder Pliny, whose books on natural history still remain entire, was perhaps one of the most extraordinary literary phenomena that ever exist- ed in the world. In one of the letters of his nephew, Pliny the younger, there is an account given of the studies, and a description of the manner of life of this singular man, which, as it is extrcmelj curious, I shall be easily excused for inserting. " You adn)ire," says Pliny to Macer, " the works of my uncle, and wish to have a complete collection of them; I will jjoint out to you the order in which they were composed : for, however immaterial that may seem, it is a sort of information not at all un- acceptable to men of letters. The first book ho published was a treatise concerning the Art of throwing the Javelin on Horscl)ack. This he wrote when he commanded a troop of horse, and it is drawn up with great accuracy and judgment. lie next pul)lishe(| the Life of Pompouius Secundus, in two books, and after that, the History of the Wars in Germany, in twenty books, in which he gave an account of all the battles wo had been engaged in against that nation; and a Treatise upon Eloquence, divided into six books. In this work he takes the orator from his cradle, and leads him up till he has carried him to the highest point of pcr- ection in his art. In the latter part of Nero's reign, when the tyranny of the times made it dangerous to engage in any studie? 440 INIVF.KSAL HISTORY. [bOOK IV of a more free and elevated nature, lie published a jiieee of criti« cism in eight hooks, concernin;^ Ainbi^iiily in Expression. Ho completed the iiistory which Anhdius Bassns left unfinished, and added to it thirty books; and lastly, he lias left thirty-seven books of natural history, a work of great compass and learning, and al- most as various as Nature herself. You will wonder how a man so engaged as he was CDuld find time to compose so many books; but your surprise will rise still higher, when you hear, that lor some time he engaged in the profession of an advocate; that he died in his fifiy-sixth year; and that from the time of his quitting the bar till his death, he was employed in the execution of the highest employments, and in the service of his prince. But he had a quick a^iprehension, joined to unwearied application. Be- fore day-break he used to wait upon Vespasian, who like him chose that time to transact his business. When he had finished the affairs which the emperor committed to his charge, he return- ed home to his studies. After a short repast at noon, he would repose himself in the sun, during which time, some author was read to him, from which, according to his constant custom, he made extracts and observations. When this was over, he gener- ally took the cold bath, after that, a slight refreshment, and then reposed himself a little. Then, as if beginning a new day, he immediately resumed his studies till supper time, during which, a book was commonly read to him, upon which lie would make occasional remarks. In sunmier, he rose from supper by day-light and in winter as soon as it was dark. Such was his manner of life, amidst the hurry and noise of the town; but in the country, his whole time was devoted to study without intermission, except- ing when in the bath, for even when undressing, and when he was rubbed by his servants, he was either listening to a reader, or dic- tating himself. A secretary constantly attended him in his chariot. I remember he once reproved me for walking. ' You might,' says he, ' employ those hours to more advantage,' for he thought all time was lost which was not given to study. By this extraor- dinary a|)plication he found time to write so many volumes. I cannot but smile, (continues the younger Pliny,) when I hear myself called a studious man, who, in comparison to him, am a mere loiterer. But why do I mention myself, who am diverted from these pursuits by numberless affairs both public and private.* Even they whose whole lives are engaged in study must blush when placed in the same view with him." This picture of the manner of life pursued by the elder Pliny will be allowed by all to be a very singular one, but it is too in- consistent with the ordinary powers of man to serve as a model of imitation. It will appear also from this, that Pliny was infinitely more studious of storing his mind with the opinions of others than to form opinions of his own ; for one who is constantly employed, either in listening to a reader, or in dictating to an amanuensis, can- CH. IV.] ROMAJJ nilLOSOPHV. 441 not possibly give suflicieiit exercise eiilier to liis jud;;incnt or hh invention. And this, indeed, appears to have been tlie case with Pliny, if we may jud^e from the only work of his remaining;, Tke Boots of jyatural History^ which is, indeed, little else than a most vokiminons conipilaiion from the works of Varro, the elder Cato, Hyginiis, Pomponius xMela, Aristotle, Theophrastus, Hero- dotus, and other writers — a work valuable, no doubt, as containing an immense treasury of the knowledge of the ancients, but filled with discordant and contradictory opinions, and indicating, on the whole, no original genius in the compiler. It was above remarked that, when philosophy first made its way from Greece to Rome, the doctrines of the Stoical school were then chiefly prevalent in the republic. With a people who were only emerging from a simplicity, or rather a severity of manners, it is not probable that the system of E|)icuru3 would find a very favorable reception. As luxury, however, advanced, and corrup- tion of manners began to undermine the strictness of the ancient morality, it also found its votaries. This change in the Roman manners, it may not be uninstructive to consider somewhat mi nutely. Tlie picture of the Roman people during the first five centuries is so perfectly distinct, so widely different from what we find it in the latter ages of the republic, that we might at first be induced to think that some very extraordinary causes must have coilperaied to produce so total an alteration. Yet the transition was easy and natural, and was in the Roman people the necessary and inevit- able consequence of that rich and luxurious situation in which the virtuous and heroic temper of the earlier times had conduced to place the republic. A spirit of temperance, of frugality, and of industry must be the characteristics of every infant colony. The poverty of the first Ronians, the narrow territory to which they were limited, made it necessary for every citizen lo labor for his subsistence. In the first ages, the patricians, when in the coun- try, forgot all the distinctions of rank, and toiled daily in the fields like the lowest plebeian. Examples of this are familiar to every reader. Cincinnaiiis we have seen named dictator by the voice of his country, while at the plough. M. Cm-ins, after expelling Pvrrhus from Italy, retired to the possession of a small farm, which he assiduously cultivated. The elder Cato was fond of . diis spot, and revered it on account of its former master. It was in emulation of the example of this ancient Roman that Cato bo- took himself to agriculture. Scipio Africanus also, after the con- quest of Hannibal and the reduction of Carthage, retired to his paternal fields, and with his own hand reared and grafted his fruit- trees. If such was the conduct and example of the highest mag- istrates and most eminent men in the state, what idea must we form of tlie manners and customs of the inferior ranks.' VOL. I. 56 4-42 LNIVKUSAI. HISTOUY. [bOOK IV III times of peace and tranquillity, r7)o.st of the citizens, cinj)loyed at their small farms, visited the town only every ninth or mnrkct day. There they j)rovided themselves with necessaries for the week, and took their share in the puhlic business of the common- wealth at the comitia. It was on these market-days that the tribunes harangued the people, and it was then that those men — emplo)ed for their daily occupation in laboring and husbandry — feeling their weight in the public deliberations, learned to know their own importance in the state, which was in no respect dimin- ished by the necessary cares and duties to which, in those happy and primitive ages, custom had annexed respect and honor instead of meanness or reproach. Thus simple were the occupations, and, of consequence, the manners o? the ancient Romans. Employed either in their war- like expeditions, or, when at peace, in the frugal, laborious, and innocent avocations of a country life, it was to be expected, as a necessary result, that industry and a virtuous sin:ip!icity of manners should be the principal features in the character of a people so situated. " Domi militiaRque (says Sallust) boni mores coleban- tur — jus bonumque apud eos non legibus magis quani natura vale- bat : duabus artibus, audacia in hello, ubi pax evenerat a;quitate, seque rempublicam curabant." But this very discipline, and those manners which paved the way for the extension of the Roman arms, and for the conquest of the surrounding empires, became, of consequence, the remote cause of the corruption of the man- ners of the people in the later ages of the republic, and the intro- duction of that luxurious and efibminate spirit from which it is not difficult to deduce the ruin and downfall of the commonwealth. When, after the second Punic war, they had pushed their con- quests into Asia, and in the third Punic war accomplished the sub- version of Carthage, and acquired the unlimited sovereignty of Greece, then it necessarily happened that, losing their ancient manners with their ancient poverty, possessed of wealth, and adopting with a willing servility the customs of the nations they subdued, the Romans became as vicious, as luxurious, and as effeminate as they had before been remarkable for their virtue, their industry, and their rigid simplicity of manners. They ap- peared now to be actuated by a new spirit, but chiefly by an affec- tation of taste in the fine arts, in which nature certainly had never qualified them to make any decided or eminent progress. The faculty to excel in these requires not only a predisposition of nature, an inherent acutencss of perception of what is beautiful, but also an intimate acquaintance with the objects of taste, and a long habit of exercising the judgment exclusively upon them. Of this natural predisposition to the fine arts the Romans never evinced any traces. On the contrary, even in the periods of their greatest refinement, we hear not of the excellence of a single painter, sculptor, or ar- chitect ; not did they indeed possess, until their conquest of Greece, en. IV.] ROMAN iMAN.NERS. 413 any acquaintance with those exalted specimens of art iij)on which a corrected and chastened taste could •dlone have been formed. At that period, indeed, an immense field was at once opened to their view. The master-pieces of art poured in upon fSem; but these they did not possess the talents to appreciate. The extrav- agances of glare and show were more suited to th^ir judgment, and possessed more attractive beauties to their unpractised eyes; and it is natural, therefore, to conclude that the Roman luxury, so far as the fine arts were concerned, could only manifest itself in an awkwarc^, heavy, and tasteless magnificence. In order to give some idea of the manners of the Romans after they had undergone this remarkable change, or rather towards tho end of the commonwealth, at a time when the extrava'^^ance of general luxury was felt throughout the whole body politic, and to point out also some customs which were peculiarly characteristic of this people, it may not be improper shortly to describe the manner in which the day was spent at Rome, as well by the lower as by the higher and more idle classes of the citizens. Extraor- dinary as it may appear to us, it is certain that the Romans were, for nearly five centuries, utterly ignorant of the division of the day by hours, and knew no other distinction hut that of morning, mid- lay, and evening. The laws of the Twelve Tables divided the day into two portions only, ortus el occastts, nor was it until a con- siderable time after, that they added a third division, mcndies. We are informed by Pliny the naturalist, that till the 477ih year of Rome, when Papirius Cursor caused the first sun-dial to be put upon the wall of the temple of Quirinus, they had never used any method of measuring time; that Valerius Messala brought another from Catania, in Sicily, and that these two, although very inaccurate in dividing time, continued to be the only regulators of the day at Rome for nearly a centiny, till Scipio Nasica introduced the water-clock, which showed the hours both of the day and night. The first, second, and third hours were difTerenlly employed at Rome by the different ranks of the people; and even by these differently according to their separate in<'linations. It was the custom with many to begin the day by visiting the temples, where, according as their ideas of devotion were more or less strict, they either sacrificed, or paid their adoration by simply kissing their hand, or prostrating themselves before their own particular deity. Those who were more rigorously devout made their conscientious circuit to most of the temples in the city, a business which must necessarily have occupied many hours; but the great bulk of the citi'/.ens, attached to temporal concerns, and intent on more sub- stantial duties, emploved the mornins; very difierenlly. The Pa- troiii were attended i)y all their ('lieiitrs. The great had their levees, at which either their inferiors who wished to reronimcnJ themselves to their protection, or even their equals who courte' 41 t U.VIVERSAL mSTOUY. [uOOK IV llicir favor and friendship, crowded in tlie morning to pay their conipliincnts. Ponipey did not liiink it bencaiii iiini to appear at the levee of Cicero. The custom was to wait in the vestibule or unte-chamber, till the great man made his apj)carance; to pay him some compliment, couched either in wishes for his health or j)anegyric on his talents, or congratulation on any promotion which might have occurred, and afterwards to accompany him — either walking in his train, or attending by the side of his litter — to the senate-house, or to the forum, and thence to reconduct him home. The lower ranks and tlie more servile and parasitical courtiers, who had many such visits to pay, must have necessarily begun very early in the morning. Juvenal humorously describes them as setting out by star-light, and does not even give them lime t,(i tie their garters. These visits Pliny calls ante-lucana ojjicia. They were some- times so troublesome to the great man to whom they were paid, that it was not unusual for him to go out by a back door, and so give his visiters the slip. Hoiace, in his fifth epistle, playfully ad- vises his friend Torquaius to escape the importunities of his clients oy this sinister expedient : — " rebus omissis, Atria servantem postico f'alle clientern * This liberty, however, we may rest assured, was not very often taken; for if, as we have above seen, the expedients of those an- cient courtiers, who in these remote times solicited the patronage of the great in Rome, were in few respects different from that watchful and attentive assiduity which still distinguishes the same classes amongst ourselves, we may rely also that the great in Rome were no less ambitious of receiving these marks of distinction, than the powerful in this country. Popularity was there, indeed, al- ways the first object of ambition; and when the great man Cudde the tour of his circle at the levee, he was not, we may be asvured, tl>' least com])laisant of his company. And, indeed, in the latter '2 t;.N(VF.nsAi, iiisroiiv. I nooK iv nor to siipt'iior coin;!!!;"' in llu; field, tli;it llw Roinfins owed llif.'ir vif- lori(!s; but it was hy art and l)y discipline thai tliry dclcniffd tlioso iiniiK'Dsc hosts of (lauls which ponn-d down upon Italy; that ihcy siihducil th<; Spaniards, a liardior and tnorc warlikn race than thenj- sclvc's; the Africans, whose wcahh furnished inexhaiistihio armies; and contincred even the Greeks, whose military ahiliiies were for many a^i^s superior to their own." Tlie nature of this inililary discipline, by wliich the Rorrani beranif! masters of the world, is, therefore, an object extremely de- serving of attention; and I shall endeavor here to give some idea of the stale of the art of war, such as we find it to have hecii in the latter ages of the commonwealth, and in the first period of the history of the em])ire. In a former chapter, in treating of the system of Roman educa- tion, we have taken notice of those exercises of the body to which all the youth of the republic were accustomed from their earliest infancy. Dy the constant j)ractice of wrestling, boxing, launch- ing the javelin, running, and swimming, ihey were inured from their cradle to that species of life which a soldier leads in the most active campaign in the field. They were accustomed to the mili- tary pace, that is, to walk twenty miles, and sometimes twenty- four, in /our hours. During these marches they carried burdens of sixty pounds' weight; and the weapons with which they were armed were double the weight of those which were used in the actual field of battle.* Every year after the election of the consuls, twenty-four mili- tary tribunes were chosen; fourteen from the order of the Eqiii- tes^ and ten from the body of the citizens. The people were then assembled by an edict of the consuls, commanding all who had attained the age of seventeen to appear in the area before the capitol on an appointed day. According to the number of le- gions which were to be formed, they appointed to each legion a certain number of tribunes. The tribes were then called out and divided into their proper centuries, and each century presented by rotation as many soldiers as there were legions intended to be raised. If there were four legions, each century took its turn m p ung four soldiers; and of these four, the tribunes of the first legion had the first choice of a man, the second the next, and so on : then four more were drawn out, and the second legion had the first choice. In the next selection, the third legion chose first, and in the following the fourth. Thus there was the utmost equal- ity in the distribution of the citizens in the several legions. The number of soldiers in the legion was various at different periods. At earlier times it consisted of 3000, of 4000, of 5000, * Vegetius de Re IMilitari, c. 2. ; and Josephus, de Bello JoJaico, has o^iveq ■ome very curious details of the Roman discipline. CH. v.] ROMAN WAKKARE. 453 and GOOO; but under the emperors it might amount to even 10,000 or 11,000 men. Among the ancient nations there were in general but two differ- ent arrangements of the troops in order of battle. Tlie one was that of the phalanx, commonly used by the Greeks ; the other was the disposition of the troops by manipuli^ or companies, ar- ranged in the form of a chequer or quincunx, which, afier the war with Pyrrhus, became the ordinary arrangement of the Roman army, and was probably then first tried as the most commodious disposition against the attack of the elephants. In the order of the phalanx, the heavy-armed infantry were all ranged upon one con- tinued line, with no other intervals than those which distinguished the great divisions. In the quincunx order, a number of small companies or platoons were ranged in three straight lines, one be- hind the other, with alternate spaces between them, equal to the front of each company. In the first line were the Ilastati, heavy-armed troops, who at first used long spears, but afterwards laid them aside for the pilum, or great javelin, and the sword and buckler. In the second line were the Principes, likewise armed with the pilum and sword and buckler ; and in the third line were the Triarii, armed with the long spear, formerly used by the hastati, and chiefly intended to sustain the shock of the enemy's cavalry. On the flanks of the line of the hastati were placed the cavalry, likewise m detached manipuli or companies, armed only with a lance and javelin, point- ed at the end, and a small buckler. Immediately before the har- tati, and in the front of the line, were placed the Velites, or light- armed troops, who usually began the engagement, and, after main- tainins: a skirmisiiing fight for awhile, drew off to the rear, and retired behind the triarii, leaving the main body to come into ac- tion. After the velites had withdrawn, the hastati usually began the attack, by throwing the pilum, or great javelin, which was a ponderous spear of seven feet in length, and of such thickness as barely to be grasped in the hand. It could not be used at a dis- tance, from its immense weight ; but within the space of twenty or thirty yards its efiect was dreadful. After the discharge of the pila, the hastati rushed on with the sword and buckler, which were now their only weapons. The Roman sword was about a foot and a half in length, two-edged, with a broad blade, tajiering to a jtjint, so as to serve both for cutting and thrusting.* What • Tlie kind and quality of weapons is of very i^rpat consequence in war. The Roman sword was a weapon of rrrcat power and etricacy. Tlie Romans owned themselves inferior to the Cinibri in cotiraire and martial heroigm ; nn-d confessed that even their superior discipline could not have availed them aijainsl the pro digious impetuosity of the attacks of this people; hut, on the other hand, the swords of the Cimbri were of bad temper compared to theirs. They often bent Rt the first stroke; and the soldier was obliged to Btraighten his BWord with hi» foot before iie cnuld make a second stroke. 451 UNIVEUSAI, UISTOKV [bOOK IT is sijigiilar is, ili;it il was made of brass, but of so bard a composi- tion as to shiver like stoel. The sword and buckler were common to all the ranks of the infantry.* The advantage of the chequer oi- quincunx arrangement of the legion was, that the Roman army could tlwee times form the line of battle with fresh troops. Suj)posiiig the hastali to be foiled m their first onset, and even put to flight, the enemy found a new line of battle presented by the principes, who, using the same arms, first began with the terrible discharge of the pila, and then fought with the short sword. Meantime the hasiati had time to rally, and to form a new line behind the triarii. No form could be so admirably adapted as that of the quincunx for changing movements according to the disj)osition of the ene- my's line. On advancing, for example, to meet such an arn)y as the Gauls, ranged in the order of the phalanx, nothing was easier than to form a great front like that of the enemy, without any in- tervals, by bringing up the principes to fill the spaces betwixt the companies of the hastati. When, again, they had to do with an enemy less active, but to whom they did not wish to give an oppor- tunity of insinuating themselves between the manipuli, they filled up the intervals with the veliles, and kept the principes in the second line with the triani-, as a corps de reserve. In those en- gagements where the enemy had in their front a train of elephants, upon the advance of those animals, nothing more w-as requisite than for the principes to march to a side, and form themselves in a line with the hasiati and triarii; in other words, to form themselves into columns, with open spaces between each column. Thus the elephants, persecuted and driven on by the velites found an entrance by these spaces between the columns, and passed through the le- gion without doing any mischief. This manoeuvre was practised by Scipio at the battle of Zama, and by Regulus, in his engage- ment in Africa with Xantippus. The quincunx disposition was for some ages the characteristic of the Roman legion, which scarcely used any other method of ar- rangement ; but the Romans afterwards made many innovations iipon the ancient tactic. f- From the time of Marius the quin- cunx had gone into disuse, and Ctrsar describes the legions in his wars as under a quite different form. The three manipuli of has- iati, principes, and triarii composed a cohort, and were ranged not by intervals, but in a line behind each other — or in columns ; — the triarii, armed with the long spears, being usually pk.ced in the front. It is not easy to see in what respects this disposition ex- celled the former. From this period the tactic of the Romans * For an account of the arms of the Roman legion, see Lipsius de Militia Homana, c. 3. t Pee a very good account of the state of the art military under the eraperom in Gibbon's history, vol. i., c. 1 ■CH v.] IIOMA.V WARFARE. 455 was perpetually changing, and, in tlie opinion of llie ablo.jt judges, growing worse from age to age.* At no time was the tactic of the Romans more excellent than during the Punic wars, and to that cause we may atiribiiie their successes against an enemy so formidable as the Cartba'^inians, and commanded by such able generals. The chief talent of Han- nibal lay in varying and adapting the arrangement of his artny according to circumstances of local situation; and often striking out some new and unexpected disposition formed in the instant of action, which disconcerted all the uniform and regular plans of the Romans. Such was that most remarkable disposition of the Car- thaginian army at the battle of Cannae, which decided the fate of that important day, by the utter destruction of the Roman army. I shall endeavour to give an idea of this very curious disposition, of which Poiybius has left a full account; and I select it lor this reason, that it has been misunderstood and misrepresented by the Chevalier Folard, a very able writer on the art military, but who, from his ignorance of the Greek language, was obliged to rely on the Latin translation of a monk who knew nothing of the art of war. The errors of Folard have been fully pointed out in the J\Iemoires J\[iUtaircs of M. Guichard. Hannibal having passed the winter and spring in quarters, be- gan the campaign by ravaging the whole country; and finding his armv in want of provisions, he marched towards Canna;, situated in a mountainous part of Apulia; a village where the Romans liad established their magazines, and where they had brought all the military stores and provisions they had carried from Canusium. Hannibal took Cannae by surprise; which, depriving the Romans of their stores, disconcerted their whole plan of operations. They could no longer pretend to harass and weary out the Carthagin- ians, but were obliged to think of giving them battle. The sen ate, in this emergency, sent a powerful reinforcement to the army, which now amounted to 80,000 men under two consuls, Varro and .(Emilius; the latter a general of great experience, but cool and deliberate; the former rash, impetuous, and extremely obstinate * We mny Iparn from Vejretius the constilulion of the Romans lotion under Trajnn and Hadrian. The hpavy-armed infantry was then divided into ten cohorts, *t of hr>n»r nnd tlie riislody of the eagle, consisted of 11 0.'i soldiers, the remaining nine consisted ench of .Vio. The number of infantry in the whole leiriiui was, therefore, (ilOO men. Their offensive arms were, 1st, the pilum ; 2d, a Ii;jht spear; Td. the Fwnrd. The lejrion was usually drawn up eiirtit deep, with a distance of three feet both be- tween the files lind ranks. The cavalry of the legion was divided into ten squadrons; the first, in propnrtion to the first cohort, consisting of ][\2 men, the rest only of (>(i — in all 7'2(i horse. The horses of the cavalry were bred chiefly in Spain and Cappadocia. Thi- arms of the men consisted of n lielmet, an obioniT shield, light boots, a coat of niiiil, a j.iveliii, and a hmg broadsword. They borrowed afterwards from the barbarians the use of lance* and ir»t mae.cs. • 4.56 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [bOOK IV iEmilus, sensible that the great superiority of Hannibal's army laj in his cavnlry, wished to delay coming to an action till his situation should aiTord the best opportunity for the operations of infantry. Varro was for an immediate attack, and it being hi.s tinn to com- mand, a pretty smart engngerncnt ensued, wliich terrninaled doubt- fully, but rather to the advantage of the Romans. Encouraged by this first success, they brooked with great impatience the cautious delays of ^milius, who was still averse to a general engagement. The day following, when it was again the turn of Varro to com- mand in chief, he ordered the army to take the field early in the morning, and to pass the river Aufidus, which lay between them and the Carthaginians. They passed without opposition, as Han- nibal chose to rest every thing upon a very artful mana^uvre^ which he had planned, to be discovered only in the moment of engagement. Tlie usual disposition of the Carthaginians was that of the pha- lanx. Varro resolved to imitate this disposition, and to give his army a front similar to it. His ignorance of the art of war here led him into a great error. He neglected the advantages which the legion derived from the ordinary disposition of the quincunx, and endeavored to give a solidity and depth to his line, erpial to that of the Carthaginians, not attending to this circumstance, that the arms of the legion were not suited to the close and compress- ed position, on which depended the strength of the phalanx; for the hastati and the principes could neither throw their pila with effect, nor manage their swords for want of room : and the triarii, ranged immediately behind and close upon the manipuli of the hastati, could not, with their long spears, be of the smallest service. Such, however, was Varro 's disposition : he brought up the prin- cipes to fill the spaces between the companies of the hastati, and advanced the triarVi, so as to join their companies to those of the hastati. On the right and left wing were the Roman cavalry, greatly inferior, as we have already observed, to those of the Car- thaginians; and the velites or light infantry were ranged as usual in the front of the line. Hannibal, whose army amounted to 40,000 foot and 10,000 horse, arranged the main body of his infantry in the close order of the phalanx; placing the best of his African heavy-armed troops to the right and left of the line, and in the centre the Gauls and Spaniards, armed only with the sword and buckler. On the right and left wings of his phalanx he posted the cavalry, immediately opposite to those of the enemy; and in the front of his line were ranged the Carthaginian light troops, in the same manner as those of the Romans. Having thus formed the great line of the pha- lanx, Hannibal ordered the Gauls and Spaniards in the centre to exter>d themselves forward from the main body in a semi-circular curve. This movement was concealed from the Romans, by the Ijne of the Carthaginian light troops, and was not perceived till CH. V.J ROMAN WARFARE CA.NN.E. 467 after the skirmishing of the velites, when these troops as uas usua!. fell back behind the main body. The action began by these light troops, and continued |)rett*' long ai>d obstinate, while in the meantime the Carthaginian cavaJrr attacked the Roman horse on both wings, and being infiniteb superior to them in number, broke, dispersed, and cut them all t( pieces. The signal was now given for the velites on both sides tr fall back, and the Romans then, for the first time, perceived tlu curve in the Carthaginian front, which, being far advanced, camt n contact with, and was immediately attacked by, the centre of the Roman line. The Gauls and Spaniards who formed the curve, unable to sustain the impetuosity of this onset, gave way, as Han- nibal had expected; while that part of the Roman line, impetu- ously pursuing its advantage, pushed forward in j)roportion as Uie enemy retreated, by which means the Roman line was bent ni tlic middle into an angular form. This position was what Hannibal foresaw and wished for. The Gauls and Spaniards, su|)|)oried behind by the velites, formed a sort of new concave curve; and the heavy-armed infantry, the strength of the Carthaginian army, who had hitherto remained inactive, were now marched up, so as to come in contact with the opposite })art of the Roman line, which was hurrying on to pursue the advantage gained by the centre, but which, now that the Africans were advanced, found themselves inclosed like a wedge. In the meantime the Carthaginian cavalry under the command of Asdrubal, having entirely cut to pieces die horse of the enemy, doubled the flanks of the Roman army, and poured down upon the rear. They were now inclosed and furiously attacked on every quarter. The contest was not of long duration. The Romans, pressed together, had no space to use their arms. It was, upon the part of the Carthaginians, an absolute massacre and butcheiy; 70,000 of the Romans were killed upon the s|)ot, and 10,000 taken prisoners. Such was the celebrated batile of Can- nae, according to the idea given by M. Guichard, which is sup- ported, in every particular, by the text of Poiybiiis. The disposition of the quincunx wouKl in all probal)ility have saved the Roman army, and disa|)pointed the cflect of Hannibal's artfid manft'uvre; which it is j)robable he had conceived only upon seeing the enemy in the order of the phalanx : for had the legions been formed in the order of the quincunx, only the first line of the hastati could have given into the snare which was laid for them, and the principes and triarii, entire and unbroken, must have been an overmatch for all that was o|iposc(l to them. The quincunx, notwithstanding its great adviinlagcs, was, as I have already observed, disused in the times of the emperors, and conse(piently the arms of the soldiers must likewise ha\e under- gone considerable changes. In the time of Vcgcliu,;, thai is to say, under Valentinian, and probably long before that period, llj^ VOL. 1. 5S 458 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [nOOK IV piliiin, llic niosl foriiiidahlo of ilio Roman weapons, was entirely laid asi(l(?, and a variety of weapons inlroduf-ed, wliicli are de- scribed l)y that aullior, bnt wliicli were c|iiitc unknown during the perfoetion of the art of war among the Romans. One most material part of the military science among the Ro- mans was their art of intrenchinent. It was to the perfection to which Caesar carried this art, that he owed many of his greatest advantages in war. It seems to have been a maxim of his, that t was possible to make up for any inferiority in the number of his troops, by the additional strength of his intrenchnients. Thus with GO, 000 men he defended himself in his intrenchnients be- fore »/?/e.r/rr, while the lines of circumvallation were attacked by 240,000 Gauls, and the lines of countervallation by 80,000, with 5ut any efl'ect. These intrenchments were thrown up with amazing despatch. Every soldier upon his march carried along with him his palisade, which was a strong branch of a tree, having at one end three or four smaller branclies sharpened to a point and hardened in the fire. When the square of the camp was traced out, each soldier, throwing aside his buckler, began to dig a ditch, ordinarily nine feet, but sometimes fourteen or fifteen feet in depth, and as much in width. The earth was thrown up upon the inside in the form of a rampart four or five feet in height, which was faced on the outside widi those palisadoes or stipitcs^ strongly fixed in the earth, and set so near each other that the branches, crossing ob- \iquely, presented their ])oints outwards, and thus formed a strong liedge of irregular points, which it was extremely difficult to pierce. On each side of the square of the camp was a gate or issue, where a strong guard was always posted, which no soldier could pass without leave, under pain of death. When a city was besieged, it was customary for the Romans to divide their forces into several camps, encircling the place, and joined to each other by strong lines of circumvallation and coun- tervallation. As the science of attack and defence of fortified towns was carried to a great degree of perfection, both by the Ro- mans and the Greeks, I shall endeavour to give some idea of this branch of the military art among the ancients, concerning which several or" the modern writer's are very much at variance. The Chevalier Folard, in his Commentary on Poly bins, makes the military art of the ancients by far too complicated, and much more so than a plain construction of the words of his author, or, indeed, of any other of the ancient writers, will wari-ant. In his treatise on the attack and defence of fortified jilaces, he endeavours to prove, that, excepting the use of gunpowder and artillery, every operation used by modern engineers was known and practised by the ancients; and that, in particular, the mode of approach by parallels and trenches was in continual use. Yet t is very certain, as M. Guichard has aliindantly shown, that CH. V.J ROMAN SIKGES. 453 those authors who have written most niimitoly of the most iinpor- laiit sieges, as Polybius, Cccsar, Arrian, and Josephus, and who express iheniselves in their details with very ^reai persjjicuiiy, give not the smallest countenance to such a notion. The Romans observed two methods of proceeding in their sieges ; tlie one was by means of tlie iv^^cr^ a sort of terrace or mound ofearlli, on which they advanced their machines; and the other was by bringing up their machines to the foot of the vvail-j without the help of such a terrace. The first was necessary oidv where the place was very strong, and the walls skilf.illy guarded and fortifietl. The method of proceeding against such fortified places was this: — The aruiy, as I before observed, was divided into dilierpnt quarters, separately intrenched around the city, which intrenc'liinents coninninicated with each other by a line of counter- vallation draun on the side next the town, and a line of circumval- lation on the outside, to defend against attacks from the (piarlcr of the country. Then the ground was chosen for the construction of tlie agger, or terrace, which was a lengthened mound of earth, beginning by a gentle slope, from one of tiie camps, and proceed- ing forward, gradually increasing in elevation as it aj)proached the town. As this terrace was to be the stage from which all the engines of attack were to be played against the city, it was the object of the besieged to endeavor, by every possible means, to prevent the carrying on of this work. Siones, darts, and combustible matters were continually launched against the operators ; and some- times a mine was dug from the city, to pass under the front of the terrace, and scoop away its foundation. The besiegers, on the other hantl, guarded against these annoy- ances by protecting tiiemselves, while at work, under covered sheds, termed vinecB, which were composed of hurdles, or wicker- work, covered with hides, and supported on stakes, whiih ihcy moved along as the work advanced. The front of the terrace, where the workmen were chiefly employed, was prolecteil either by a testudo, or covered pent-house, or simply by a curtain of sicins, supported upon a large tree, laid transversely upon two others. •When the besiegers, under these covers, had brought the aggei, or terrace, sull'icienily near to the wall, tlu-y then advaiuM-d tlw engines of attack. The catapulttv and balislit were rangiMJ upon the terrace, at distances proportioned to their several projec tile powers, and advanced or drawn back till they were made to bear upon the very spot which the besiegers intend to assail. The powers of these eni;ine3 of attack almost exceed credibility. The calapnlta cenlcniiria, which was the smallest si/e of these ma- chines, threw a weight of 100 pounds to the distance of •'iOO paces. The kindest catapulta^ threw stones of IJOO poumls' wei'iht. The l):distCE were consiruci<'d for throwin-.; great anil hea\ y darts. As to the particular construction of these machine* 1(iO uNivr.KSAL iiisTonr. [book iv ue can only form conjectures. The conirncntalors o.i Vegetius !iavc given several dinbrcnt forms of catapultae and balistse, but diey are by far too complicated, and have a great deal of needless machinery of wheels, |)iiileys, axles, and levers. Much simpler contrivances might answer the same end, and be more easily man- aged. The form of the catapulta, given by M. f'olard, is siifli- cienlly simple, and corresponds well enough uiUi the description in Vegetius. A large lever is fixed at the lower end between two cables, very strongly twisted; the lever has, at the upper end, a hollow in the form of a dish, for receiving the stone or ball which is to be thrown. It is brought down to a horizontal position by means of this rope and hand-lever, which straightens the c;:ble s|)ring; and when let off by means of a catch, it returns to its position with prodigious force, and striking against the crossbar at the top, the stone or ball is projected to a very great distance. The balista, for throwing arrow^s, was, according to the Idea ol M. Folard, of a construction considerably difTerent, though de- pending on the same mechanical principles with the catapulta; yet, from the promiscuous use of the two terms, which we often find made by tlie ancient authors, I think it is not at all improb- able that the same machine might have been so contrived as to serve both for stones and arrows: for instance, nodiing more was necessary than to fix a sort of long trough or groove, horizontally projecting from the cross-beam at the top, in which the arrows should be placed, with their ends a little advanced beyond the line of the cross-beam. It is evident, that when the spring-lever struck against the beam, so as to throw out a stone from the dish, the arrows in the groove, receiving the whole force of the stroke, would be discharged with great violence at the same time. But these engines, the catapulta? and balistae, though most for- midable in their effects, were incapable of making a breach in the walls of a strongly fortified city. The only engine capable of produc- ing this efi'ect was the battering ram; and the whole contrivances of the ULCgeres, or terraces, towers, testudines^ rineo'., or covered galleries, had no other object than to facilitate the approach of the ram, which, if it was once effected, and the engine had free space to play, all ancient authors are agreed that it was decisive of the fate of the town. No wall, however strong, was capable of resist- ing its force. The object, therefore, of the besiegers was, by means of the catapultae and balistEc, and by the command which the elevation of the terrace gave them, to clear the walls of their defenders, and to obstruct the play of those engines which the besieged were continually working to prevent the approach of the ram, or to weaken its force; so that, as soon as the besiegers from the terrace were able to silence the batteries from the walls, the ram, coming up in security under the cover of a testudo, began to play without intermission till the breach was effected. It consisted CII. V.J ROMAN SIEGES. 46| of an j^iiormous beam of wood, anned at the one end uiih a head of iron, and suspended so as to hang in cquili'rio, fionj a cross- beam of the tcsuido, or pcnt-lioiise. Tlie besiegers, besides employing the contrivances of aggeres, tcstudines, vinccc, and battering ram, constructed frequently mova- ble towers of such a height as to overtop the walls of the city ; and these towers answered a variety of pjirposes. The under part of the tower served for a testudo to a battering ram, which played under its cover, while on tho lop were planted archers and slingers to clear the ramparts of those who endeavored to coun- teract the operation of the ram by letting down groat beams, chains, and hoops to destroy its equilibrium, and impede its mo- tion. These movable towers were frequently so constructed as to let down, from the side next to the city, a platform to serve as a bridge from the tower to the top of the walls, by means of which an access was gained for the besiegers into the city. For the defence of the city, the besieged employed the same engines used by the besiegers for the discliarge of stones and darts, the catapnltae and balistx. The walls were carefully manned on every quarter where an attack was meditated, and every device employed for annoying the besiegers, retarding their operations, and preventing the approach of the ram to the walls. The gales, which the besiegers generally attempted to burn down, were de- fended from fire by covering them with iron plates or with raw skins. The wall above the gates was likewise bored with per- pendicular openings through wliich the besieged could pour water to extinguish them if set on fire. In the inside was a portcullis, suspended by iron chains, which, when a small body of the enemy had forced the way through the gates, the besieged could suddenly let down, and thus despatch them when they were separated from the rest of the assailants. Such were the most ordinary methods employed by the ancients n the attack and defence of fortified towns. I speak not of the Romans alone ; for they borrowed the greater part of their know- ledge, in this branch of (he military art, from the Greeks, among whom it was early reduced to a system. If we comjiare the de- scription which Josej)hus has given of the siege of Juta|)at by the Romans in the reign of Vespasian, with the detail given »* bv Thucydides of the siege of Platea, which happened about fiOO years before that period, we shall find the same method both of attack and defence. They continued to be in general use down to modern times ; till the invention of gunpowder made a great chancre in almost every part of the art military. It was not till the latter a«;es of tlie commnnwenllh, that navnl warfnr<; was at all practised !)y the Romans. Till the first Punir war, the Romans never had any equipment of ships for the pur- poses of war. A Carthai^inian galltjy which was stranded on tl»« coast of Italy, served them, as formerly observed, for a model : 4C2 UNivERSAt. iiisTony. [nooK iv and it is snid, with a very modoralo re;;ard to probability, tliat, in the s|)ao(j of two iiioiillis, this rcsoliile and aciive pc'Oj)lc crjni|)pod a nc(3t of one Inindrcd galloys of five banks of oars, and twenty ol three banks. The construction of these vessels, and particularly the disposition of the different ranges, or banks of oars,Jias given occasion to much speculation among the moderns. The difliculty of supposing five dilFereiit lines or orders of rowers dis|)osed one above another, lias occasioned the conjectures of some authors, that the express on of triremes and quinquercmes meant no more than that there were in some galleys three men to an oar, and in others five. But the expressions of the ancient writers cleaily snow that there were different ranks which sat above each other. Nothing can be more ridiculous than the importance which men of learning assume to themselves from that parade of erudition, which they sometimes choose to display on the most insignificant topics. Meibomius has written a treatise upon the structure of the ancient triremis^ in which, from a variety of quotations from ancient authors, and critical disquisitions upon the meaning of some of their technical phrases, he shows that Scaliger, Salinasius, and the ablest of the modern critics, were totally in the dark as to the true sense of those authors ; and so highly docs he value himself upon his discoveries, that he dedicates his book, Re!^ibiis, Princi' pihus.) Rebus-publicisque JMaris Interni accolis ; "To alj the kings, princes, and states, whose territories lie upon the Mediterranean." His treatise again has been answered by Opelius, and thus the dispute goes on to the length of folio volumes to settle this impor- tant point, whether the thranites^ one order of rowers, sat up|)er- most, and the thalamiles undermost, or whether these last were above, and the former below.* * The late Lieutenant- General Melville, who united a taste for antiquities to jjreat pnil'essional knowledge, has some curious ideas upon this subject of the structure of the ancient gallej's. Me conjectures that the waist part of the vessels rose obliquely above the water's edge, with an angle of forty-five de- grees or near it; that upon the inner sides of this waist part, the seats of the rowers, each about two feet in loniftii, were iixed horizontally in rows, with no mtro space between each seat and those on all sides of it, than should be f>und necessary for the free niovenieiits of men when rowing torrpiher. The quinnmi, or chequer order, would aft'ord thi-s advanl.-ige in the iiighest deffree possible; and in consequence of tlie combination of two obliquities, those in- conveniences, wiiich, according to the common idea of the reffulution of such galleys, must have attended tiie disposition of so great a number of rowers, are entirely removed. In 1771?, the General caused the fifth part of the waist of a nuinqitcrcinis to be erected in the back yard of his house, in Great Pulteney Street. This model contained with sufTicient ease, in a very smill place, thirty rowers in five tiers of si.^ men in each lens'tliwavs, making one-fifth part of the rowers on each side of a quinquercmis, according to I\ilybius, who assiirns three hundred fur the whole complement, besides one hundred and twentv fighting men. This construction, the advantages of which appeared evident to those who exammed it, serves to explain many difficult passatjes of the Greek and Roman writers concerning naval matters. The Generals discovery is con- firmed by ancient monuments. The collection at I'orlici contains ancient paintings of several galleys, one or two of which, by representing tlie stern CH. VI. J ANCIENT VESSELS OF WAR. 469 Besides the longa naves, or ships of war, such as ihosc we have nienlioiied, the Romans made use of small vessels called tihurnir(r, which were serviccahle dinini; a naval engai^einent in carrying the general's or admiral's orders Ironi one part of the squadron to the other. They were so called from the Liburni, a people of lllvria, who followed a piratical way of life, and used small, quick-sailiiie vessels. In a naval engagement the general himself, in one of these liburniccB, was wont to sail through the fleet, and give his caders for the dispositions and motions of the squadron. In their naval engagements the ancients had no means of assail, .ng each otiier at a distance but with the javelin ; nor had they any contrivance for disabling the vessels of the enemy, unless in some of their largest shijjs, which were constructed with towers on their stern, from which liiey could use the baiista or caiapulta. The corvxiSy or grappling machine, used by the Romans, served to fasten the ships to each odier during action, while the men were engaged with the sword and bui;kler or with spears. Under the emperors die Romans maintained ihiir distant concpiests not only by their arms but by their Heels, which were dis|)osed in all the quarters of the empire, and preserved a fixed station, as did the legions.* e CHAPTER VI. Reflections arising from a vit-w of llie Roman Hislnry during the Cotiimonwealth, In the view which I have cndenvorcd to give of the rise and the progress of the Roman republic, and of the slates of (Jrerc previously, I have been less attentive through the whole to i minute and scrupulous detail of events, than studious to inaik part, show holli (lip ol)lirinity of the niclm, nnil the rowi of onm rfnrhinjj o tlx» wiitor ; and many nnricnl Imji^ii n'lu-vim hIiow iIh- oar* »»iiiii'f rhniniT wiw from lln< «idi'8. Sec (jillii'8' llisloryof Greece, cap. .'> * Aii-n*, vnrU ».|iM.!r.»n containmir sivcral lliuunaiid nmrMU!*. Tli>-y ri.nMNlrd rliiillv of ilio lijjlilrr Vfssi'ls ca UmI Lihiirninr. A vi-ry c .nsi.lcrnlilf nriiianirnl wa* lik«'wi»r •lali<»nr«l nt rrcjii-i. on lli<> cnn.sl of I'mvenre, and another wan appointed lo fu-ird Ilie Kuxinc. T>> lliis.' iii.Ty lie mldcd lli<« flf<'t wliirli pn-iwrved llie roinniuniratioB between (iiinl iitid Unlain, and a numl»cr of Vi-ijels comUnlly mamUined o« the Rliiiie and Uunube. 4G I u.Nivr.RSAJ. msToiiv. [hook iv those circumslanrcs ulilcli show the spirit and gruiiiis of those rornarkahh; nalinns, and ilkislrale tliosc great moral and political truths which it is the most valuable province of history to point out and infulcate. To considor history only as a magazine of facts, arranged in the order of ihcir dates, is nothing more than the indiilgoncc of a vain and childish curiosity ; a study which tends to no valuable or useful purpose. The object of the study of history is one of the noblest of the pursuits of man. It is to furnish the mind with the know- ledge of that great art on which depends the existence, the pre- ;mO\\VEAI.T/I. 465 ruption of inanners infallibly extinguishes ihe patriolic spirit. In a nation confessedly corrupted, there is dflen found a prevaihiig cry for liberty^ which is heard the loudest among the most pro- fligate of the community; but let us carefully disiingui>h that spirit from virtuous patriotism. Let us examine the morals, the private manners of the demagogue who prearhes forth the love of liberty; remark the character and examine the lives of those who listen with the greatest avidity to his harangues, and re-echo hi? vociferations — and let this be our criterion to judge of the principle which actuates them.* The aversion to restraint assumes the same external appearance with the love of Jibt-riy; but this crite- rion will enable us to di^linguisii the reality from the rounterfei In fact iho spirit of liberty and a general corruption of manners are so totally adverse and repugnant to each c'li'cr, that it is utterly impossible they should have even the most transitory existence in the same age and nation. When Thrasybulus delivered Athens from the thirty tyrants, liberty came too late; the inanners of the Athenians were irretrievably corrupted; licentiousness, avarire, and debauchery had induced a mortal disease. Wlien Antigonus and the Achaean states restored liberty to the Spartan<, they could not enjoy or preserve it; the spirit of liberty was utterly extinct, for they w?re a corrupted people. The liberiy of Koine couhi not be recovered by the death of Cassar; it had gone for ever with her virtuous manners. On the other hand, while virtue remains in the manners of the people, no national misfortune is irretrievable, nor any political situation so desperate, that hope may not remain for a favorable change. If the morals of the people be entire, the spirit of patriotism pervading the ranks of the state will excite to such ex- ertions as may soon recover the national honor. Of this truth the Roman stale afforded at one time a most striking example. \Vhen Hannibal was carrying every thing before him in Italy, when the Roman name was sunk so low that the allies of the republic were daily dro|)ping off, and the Italian stales seemed to siand aloof, and leave her to her fate, there was in the manners of the people, and in that patriotic ardor which can only exi>t in an uncorrnpltMl age. a spirit of reconvalesccnce which speedily operated a most wonderful change of fortune. Of all the allied .states, Micro, king of Syracuse, manifestcMl the greatest political foresight. When solicited to forsake the Romans in this hour of their adversity, he stood firm to the alliance. He saw, that, although ^unk under the pressure of temporary misfortune, patriotism \ js still alive and ' " Thnt innn,' snys iT-schin**!!, " who i« nn iinnnlnral f«lhrr, •dJ ■ hitrr ol his own blond, ran novcr bi- n vviTthy Ii'mlcr "f ll"" p<''>i>lo ; tin- »"iil thai it inaonsilili- lo tin- li-ndcrcsl iloim-Hlic rfl«ll<>n», ran nrvrr fi-rl tli«» in-.n- g»T>rf»l bond 1)1" |>;itiinlin atr»< lion ; hf u ho in priralr life ia vicioua, c«n twtct I* ti* luoiis in Iho concerns of the public." VOL. I. 59 -!«)() UNIVERSAL msTOKV. [liOOK IV the constitution of the republic was still sound; and Ua riglitiy concluded iliat she would recover her strength and splendor. So likewise at Cartilage, when the intelligence arrived of the great victory gained over the Romans at Canna;; — the most sanguine and shortsighted manifested the highest exultation, and concluded that Rome for certain was in the possession of Hannibal, et quod actum eral de republicd Romand: but the wiser sort judged far otherwise; and, hearing of those intrepid resolutions of the senate upon that great calamity, sagaciously foresaw that this misfortune would but rouse to a more desperate resistance, and accumulate the whole strength of the Romans, of which hitherto there had been only j)ariial exertions. The lapse of a hundred and forty years, however, made a prodigious change in the Roman charac- ter. In the time of JNIarius and Sylla, a defeat like Cannae would have been decisive of the fate of Rome. Had Hiero lived in the time of the Second Triumvirate, he would have abandoned the republic to her fate, which he n)ust have seen to be inevitable. The force of the torrent of corruption in the degeneracy of a nation is never so sensibly perceived, so strongly felt, as when one man of uncommon virtue makes a signal endeavor to oppose it. If his example, though ineffectual to excite a general imitation, is yet strong enough to attract applause, there is still some faint hope that that nation or people is not beyond the possibility of recovery. Thus, when, after the defeat of Antiochus, and the plunder of his kingdom, the virtuous Scipio withstood every temptation to ac- cumulate wealth, — temptations judged so powerful, that it was thought impossible he should have resisted tl;em, and he under- went on that ground a calumnious prosecution, — the conduct of that great man on this occasion excited universal admiration; a proof that, amidst great corruption, public virtue was not yet ex- tiKct. In that age, a few such men as Scipio might have postponed the approaching ruin of their country. But when things have once proceeded to that depth of degeneracy, that the example of one virtuous man strenuously resisting the torrent cannot command even a sterile applause, but is received with scorn and contempt, then is that nation gone beyond all hopes, and no human power can prevent its hastening to ruin. A very few years from the time of the last mentioned example had produced this fatal difference in the manners of the Romans. When the first triumvirate, Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus, had gone such lengths towards the destruction of the Roman liberty, and had so debauched the man- ners of the people, that candidates for offices, instead of depending on their merits or services, openly bought the suffrages of the people, and, improving in corruption, instead of purchasing single votes, went directly to the triumviri and paid down the ready money; when all was going headlong to perdition, the younger Cato attempted to impose some check upon this torrent of wick- edness. What was the consequence? — He only procured to CH. VI.] ROMAN COMMONWEALTH. 4G7 himself the contempt and hatred of both rich and poor, ilie funner detesting the man who fori)ade iheni to l)uy the liberty of their country, and the latter execrating him who would have prevented them from making money by the sale of it. AVheihcr it was the intercourse with the Carthaginians, whose want of probity and of national faith had passed into a proverb; or whether it was tiie internal corruption of the manners of the Ro- mans themselves, a people now flushed with the arrogance that attends repeated conquests — it is not easy to determine ; but it is certain that the national character of the Romans seems to have undergone its most remarkable change for the worse, from the lime of the destruction of their rival, Carthage. The last Punic war itself was prompted, as we have seen, by a most mean, un- generous, and dastardly spirit in the Romans. But after the fall of Carthage, some of the public measures became stained with the most horrible perfidy. Their conduct to Viriathus, a Spanish chief, of whom they first purchased an ignominious peace, and afterwards broke it by hiring assassins to murder him ; and their shameful treachery and cruelty to the people of Numantia, whom they basely attacked, murdered, and exterminated, while they thought themselves safe under the sanction of a most solemn treaty, — these are instances marking so total a depravation of na- tional cliaracter, as could be followed by nothing else but the ruin of the state that could furnish them. Accordingly, we find similar instances following each other in the quickest succession, from this time down to the entire subversion of the commonwealth. When the passion of avarice had, as at this time, pervaded all the ranks of the state, it is not wonderful that the public measures should be in the greatest degree mean and disgraceful. The ambition of conquest was now little else than the desire of rapine and plunder. If the allies of the state were opulent, the Romans considered their wealth as a siiiricient reason for dissolving all treaties between them, and holdin:; them as a lawful object of conquest. Thus the kingdoms of Nnmidia, of Pcri^amus, of Cap- padocia, of Bithynia, separate sovereignties bound to the allegiance of the Romans by the most solemn treaties, were invaded as if they had been ancient and natural enemies, and reduced to the contlition of conquered provinces. The senate made a kind of traffic of thrones and governments, selling them openly to the highest bidder. It is curious, in this state of the Roman manners, to observe the pretences sometimes alle<;ed for goinc; to war, when any country ofiered a tempting object to their avidity and rapaciousness. Manlius, the consul, undertook an expedition against the Gallo- Grecians or Gallatians, a peo|)le of Asia Minor. It was alleged that the war was unjust, for they had given the Romans no sort of provocation. But the general urged in excuse, that they were a wicked and profligate peopli-, and that some of their ancestors, 1GB UNI VK I! SAT. mSTOllV. '^BOOK IV a few rc'iitnrius h'Ton-, Iiad j)liin(lprctl tin; tiMiipIo of Dol|,lii. The a|)()l()<;y was ailuiiltod, and Maiiliiis was decreed the lionor of a triumph for having avenged this liorrihlc saerilegc. Justin, the historian, informs us of a similar instance. Tlic Romans engaging along with the Acarnanians, against the people of ilitolia, had no other excuse to allege for their interference in this quarrel, than that the Acarnanians had performed a signal act of friendship to their ancestors about a thousand years before — which was, that they Lad joined the other Grecian states in sending troops to the siege of troy ! In the last ages of the commonwealth, the generals who com- manded in those military expeditions, from a selfish and ambitious policy, studied to increase this prevailing depravity. They allow- ed their soldiers to plunder with impunity, and countenanced f:very species of dissoluteness of manners, in order to gain the affection of the troops. "Lucius Sylla," says Sallust, "that he might gain the attachment of his army, entirely corrupted their ancient simplicity of manners." It was under him, in his Asiatic expedi- tions, that the RoiDan soldiers first became addicted to debauchery and drinking. There also they learned an affectation of taste for paintings and for statues ; a taste which In them led to private theft, to public rapine, and even to sacrilege. The vanquished nations had nothing to expect from such conquerors, but to be stripped and plundered of all they possessed. The shocking corruption of which Jugnrtha made the experiment upon all the ranks of the state — the facility which he found in screening himself from the punishment of his atrocious crimes, first by bribing the Roman senate, and afterwards by corrupting the gen- erals who were sent against him — are scarcely credible to those who have been accustomed to consider the Romans, in the early times of the republic, as an heroic, a free, and a virtuous people. But the Romans were now weary of calm and rational happiness ; their virtues were an incumbrance ; and they saw no value in their liberty, but in so far as they could make money by the sale of it. Some few, who yet possessed a remnant of virtue, either from motives of personal safety, or perhaps ashamed to live in surh society, voluntarily banished themselves from their country. The scenes that followed under Sylla, Cinna, and the two triumvirates, were the last struggles which terminate a violent and mortal dis- ease. That the extinction of the liberties of the Roman people, and the downfall of the conmionwealth, w-ere owing to the corruption of the Roman manners, there cannot be the smallest doubt ; nor is it difiicult to point out in a few words the causes of that corrup- tion. The extent of the Roman dominions tow'ards the end of the republic proved fatal to its virtues. While confined within i..e bounds of Italy, every Roman soldier, accustomed to a life oi Hardship, of frugality and of industry, placed his chief happiness CH. VI.] ROMAN CO.MMONWEALTIl. 46:i in contributing in war to the preservation of liis countr)", and in peace to the maintenance of his family by honest labor. A state of this kind, which knows no intervals of case or of indolence, is a certain preservative of good morals, and a sure antidote against every species of corruption. But the conquest of Italy paved the way for the reduction of foreign nations; for an immense acquisi- tion of territory — a flood of wealth — and an acquaintance \>ith the manners, the luxuries, and the vices of the nations whom they subdued. The Roman generals, instead of returning as formerly, after a successful war, to the labors of the field, the occupations of industry, and a life of temi)erance and frugality, were now tlie governors of kingdoms and of provinces. In these they lived with the splendor of sovereign princes, and reluming after the pe- riod of their command, to Rome, brought with them immense treasures, which they had accumulated by every species of rapine and oppression. Their importance at home was now signalized bv a desire of obtaining dominion over their country similar to that which they had exercised in their province. Utterly iinpa- tient of the restraints of a subject, they could be satisfied with nothing less than sovereignty. The armies they had commanded abroad, debauched by the plunder of kingdoms, and attached by selfish interest to the men who had countenanced and intlulged them in rapine, were completely disposed to support them in all their schemes of ambition. It was now only necessary to secure the favor of the peojjle of Rome, which the increasing taste for luxury presented an easy method of obtaining. Games and shows were exhibited at the most enormous expense, and festivals pre- pared for the populace, with every refinement of luxurious mag- nificence; and the Roman people, in the emphatic words of Ju- venal, . ■ " dms lanluin tea anxius oplat, I'aneiii et Circenscs," (that is, anxious only for food and games,) easil) abandoned llieir liberty to the nian who went the farthest in indulging them in their sensual gratifications. Rivals in the same path of ambition divid- ed this worthless populace into parties. " The public assemblies," ns M. Moni.esqiiieii lias well remarked, "were now so many con- spiracies against the state, and a tumultuous crowd of sedition* wretches were dignified with the title of comitia. The authority of the peo|)le and their laws were, in these times of universal an- archy, no more than a chimera." With a people thus fated to destruction, ni a government thus irretrievably destroyed by the decay of those springs which once supported it, it was a matter of very liltle consequence by tlic hands of wliat particular individ- uals it' was finally extinguished. We have seen who were the active instruments in that dissolution, and the measures by whicn they accomplished it, and it is needles* here to recapitulate ihcin 470 UNIVEKSAL HISTORV. [bOOK IV l''r()iii a coiisiileratioii of the liso and fall of (lie states of Greece and lioiiii!, a jioliiical (jiieslioii lias arisLMi, which in this place it is of some importance to examine, and which the preceding ohserva- tions, I helieve, may, in a great measure, assist us in solving. Tliere is no maxiii) more common among the political writers, nor any which is generally received with less hesitation, than this, that the constitution of every empire, like that of the human body, has necessarily its successive periods of growth, maturity, decline, and extinction. The fate of all the ancient nations whose annals are recorded in history has led to the adopting of this as an axiom, for which, independent of experience, it is not very easy to assign a reasonable foundation. All conclusions from analogy should be cautiously weighed. The mind of man, j)leasing itself with its own sagacity in discover- ing relations not obvious to a common observer, has a great pro- pensity, in comparing facts, to reduce them to general laws ; and from the coincidence and even resemblance of a few striking par- ticulars, is apt very hastily to conclude that a perfect analogy holds between them. This mode of reasoning is extremely falla- cious, and is never more to be suspected than when an analogy is attempted to be drawn from physical trudis to moral ones. The human body, we know, contains within itself the princi- ples of decay. It undergoes a perpetual change from time. The bodily organs, at first weak and imperfect, attain gradually to thei. perfect strength. At this period they cannot be arrested, but are subject to a decline equally perceptible with their progress to per- fection. But this is not the case with the body politic. The springs of its life do not necessarily undergo a perpetual change from time ; nor is it subject to the influence of any principle of corruption wiiich may not be checked and even eradicated by wholesome laws. " If," says the eloquent Rousseau, " Sparta and Rome have gone to destruction, what government or consti- tution can hope for perpetuity.'' " True, it may be answered, Sparta and Rome have gone to destruction ; but was this the efl'ect of a law of nature, or does it follow that since these two states, excellent indeed in many respects in their constitution, are now extinct, all others must exhibit a similar progress .'' From the history of ancient nations, it is not difficult for a reader of discern- ment to discover and point out the principle of corruption which has led to their dissolution ; and a good politician can see what remedy could have been effectual to check or to eradicate the evil. Sparta enjoyed a longer period of prosperous duration than any other state of antiquity. So long as her original constitution remained inviolate, which was for the period of several centuries, the Lacedccmonians were a virtuous, a happy, and a respectable people. Frugality, we know, was the soul of Lycurgus's estab- lishment. The luxurious disposition of a single citizen introduced :he po"son of corruption. Lysander, whose military talents raised CH. VI J nOMA.V COMMO.WVKAI.TIl. 47. )iis country to a superiority over all the Grecian stales, sent home, after the conquest of Atiiens, the wealth of that luxurious rrpuhlir to LacecKTCMion. It was debated in the senate whetlier it should be received : the best and wisest of that order, considered it as a most dangerous breach of the institutions of their legislator; but others were dazzled with the lustre of that gold, with which they were, till now, unacquainted, and the influence of Lysandcr pre- vailed for its reception. It was decreed to receive the money for the use of the state, while it was at the same time declared a capital crime for any of it to be found in the possession of a |)rivate citizen — a weak resolution, which in etlect was consecrating, and making respertable in the eyes of the citizens, that very thing of which it was necessary to forbid them to aspire at the possession. Thus did corruption begin its first attack upon the constitution of Lycurgus. But was this corruption a necessary or an unavoid- able evil.'' Was Sparta come to that period, when a Lysandcr must of necessity have arisen, whose (lis|)osition was adverse to the spirit of her constitution, and whose innuonce was sufficiently powerful to effect that breach of her fundamental laws? A single voice in the senate, perhaps, decided the fate of that illustrious commonwealth. Had there been one other virtuous man, whose negative would have caused the rejection of that pernicious mea- sure, Sparta might have continued to exist for ages, frugal, warlike, virtuous, and uncorrupted. Or again, even supposing corruption once introduced, was it iriterly impossible to find a remedy for the disease.' Might not a second Lycurgus have arisen, who could check that evil in its infancy against which the first was able so well to guard .'^ The beginning of the corruption of the Roman state, we have seen, may be dated from the time that the territory was extended beyond the bounds of Italy. The fatal effects of enlarging the empire were certainly not foreseen; or we must conclude that the same parties, who were so jealous of the smallest attacks upon tne liberty of the people, would have been doubly anxious to have guarded against measures which led, though remotely, to the ex- tinction of all liberty and the overthrow of the constitutiftn; and had the effect of these measures been foreseen, a few wise and virtuous politicians might have prevcntrd this b^ing adopt«'d. This, at least, we may say, that if, by a fundamental law of the stale, ihe Roman empire had been confined to Italy, and it had been a capital crime for any Roman citizen to have proposed to carry the arms of the republic beyond the limits of that countr)', the republic mi^ht have preserved its constitution inviolate for many ages be- yond the period of its actual duration. Several ingenious men have exercised their talents in framine; the plan of such a political constitution as should best promote tho happiness of the citizens, while it possessed the greatest possibirt stability. We lay out of the question such ideal governments at 47.J UNIVKKSAL HISTOIIT. [bOOK IV ilic republic of Plato, the Utopia of More, and some modern iheories no less cliiincrieal, because llicy proceed upon llie basis of ameiuling the nature of man, and eradicating all liis evil passions. The systems of Harrington, however, in his " Oceana," and of Mr. Hume in his " Idea of a perfect Commonwealth," have been considered as more worthy of the attention of mankind, as resting upon the basis of human nature such as it is, and widiout assuming for their foundation any wonderful improvement either of the moral or intellectual nature of our species. Yet in so far as either of these systems has been partially introduced into practice, we have very little reason to subscribe to any eulogium upon their merits. Harrington, who wrote his ^' Oceana," during a period of the com- monwealth of England, was so intoxicated with that newly erected system of government, as agreeing in many respects with his own theory, that he boldly ventured to pronounce it impossible that monarchy should ever be re-established in England. Yet his book was scarcely published, when the nation, weary to death of an ex- periment which, under the mask of freedom, had loaded them with tenfold tyranny, unanimously recurred to their ancient monaichical constitution. With respect to Mr. Hume's "Idea of a perfect Commonwealth," It were, perhaps, not difficult to show that, instead of simplifying the machine of government, it renders it so complicated, that it would be iiTipossible for it to proceed either with that regularity or despatch which is often most essential to the mass of public measures. If, for example, in Mr. Hume's senate of one hundred members, there should be only ten dissentient voices to the passing of a law, that law is to be sent back to be debated and canvassed by no less than 11,000 county representatives. In the same manner, if there should be but five of the one hundred senators who approve of a law, wdiile ninety-five disapprove of it, those five have a right to summon the 11,000 county representatives, and take their sense of the matter. It surely requires little political judgment to pronounce that such a constitution is utterly unfit for the regulation of an extended or populous empire ; yet Great Britain is the subject upon which he supposes in theory that the experiment is to be tried. God forbid it ever should! Had this experiment been proposed in reality, Mr. Hume himself would have been the first man to have resisted it. His genuine senti- ments of such experiments he has given in the words of sound sense and wisdom. "It is not with forms of government," says he, " as with other artificial contrivances, where an old engine may be rejected if we can discover another more accurate or com- modious, or where trials may be safely made, even though the success be doubtful. An established government has an infinite advantage by that very circumstance of its being established ; the bulk of mankind being governed by authority, not reaswi, and never attributing authority to any thing that has not die recom- en. VI. j ROMAN COMMONWEALTH. 473 inendatioii of antiquity. To lamj)er, therefore, in this afTair," says he, " and to try ex|)erimenls, merely upon the credit of supposed argument and philo-^ophy, can never be the part of a wise magis- trate, who will bear a reverence to what carries the marks of age : though he may attempt some improvements for the public good, yet he will adjust his innovations as much as possible to the ancient fabric, and preserve entire the chief pillars and supports of the constitution." Time, which brings improvement to every science, lias undoubt- edly contributed much to the advancement of political knowledge. Among the chief advantages derived from the art of |)rinting is that of fixing and perpetuating all human attainments in science, which, before that invention, either perished with their authors, or if preserved by writing, were sparingly communicated even la the country which produced them, seldom reached beyond it, and were often in the course of a few generations irretrievably lost. By the art of printing, the opinions of some of the greatest of the an'ient philosophers and politicians, and, what is much more valuable, the great outlines of the history of the most remarkable states of antiquity, their laws, their manners, and customs, are now committed to perpetual records, open to all nations, and familiar to the knowledge of every individual who has enjoyed the most ordinary education. It is from this knowledge of the accumulated experience of ages, that not only men, but nations, may derive the most important lessons. History will inform us, thai some nations have enjoyed, during the course of many ages, an unvarying and uninterrupted prosperity ; while oiliL-rs have been destined to a short, unfortu- nate, and despicable mediocrity. History will inform us, that the greatest empires which have hitherto existed on the earth are now sunk into oblivion ; that Persia, Egypt, Greece, Macedonia, and Rome, have fallen themselves, like the petty states which they overwhelmed in their conquest. But while we contemplate their changes of fortune, their prosperity, their disgraces, their revolu- tions, and their final catastrophe, must these vicissiludt«s be consid- ered only as the efiect of a blind fatality ? Can they furnish us with no other cou'-lusion than that every huuian institution must yield to the hand of time, against which neither wisdom nor virtue can ultimately aflbrd a defence .' No, certainly : every nation of antiquity has met with that fate which either its own political in- stituiinns, or the operation of foreign circumstances, must necessa- rily have induced. "Accustom your mind," said the excellent Phocion to Aristias, " to discern in the prosperity of nations that recom|)ense which the Author of Nature Iws allixcd to the |)raclice of virtue ; and in their adversity, the chastisement which lie has thought proper to bestow on vice." No state ever censed to bfl prosperous, but in conserpience of having departed liom thos« institutions to which she owed her prosperity. VOL. I. 00 47 J UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [bOOK IV The aiuiciu political writors, in speaking on the best Jbrm of 1 political cstahlishnient, licld this as a f^rcat desideratum, that a governniont should possess within itself a power of periodical re- formation ; a capacity of reforming from time to time all abuses ; of checking every overgrowth of power in any one branch of the body politic ; and, at short intervals of time, winding up, as it were, the springs of the machine, and bringing the constitution back to its first principles. To the want of this power of periodical refi)rmation in the ancient constitutions, which was ineffectually endeavored to be supplied by such contrivances as the ostracism and petalism, we may in a great measure attribute their decline and extinction ; for in these governments, when the balance was once destroyed by an increase of power in any one branch, the evil grew worse from day to day, and at length, was utterly irre- mediable, unless by a revolution or entire change of the political system. Happily for us Britons, that which was a desideratum in the ancient governments is with us realized ; that power of reforming all abuses, and even of making alterations and amend- ments as time and circumstances require, which is perfectly agree- able to the spirit of our constitution, has given us an unspeakable advantage, both over all the states of antiquity, and over every other government among the moderns. But let us not abuse this advantage, or convert what is a wholesome remedy into a poison. There are seasons when political reforms are safe, expedient, and desirable ; tiiere are others when none but the most rash empir- ic would jirescribe their application. If the minds of a people are violently agitated by political enthusiasm, kindled by the ex- ample of other nations actually in a state of revolution, — if that class of the people who derive their subsistence from bodily labor and industry are artfully rendered discontented with their situation, inflamed by pictures of imaginary grievances, and stimulated by delusive representations of immunities to be acquired, and bless- ings to be obtained, by new political systems, in which they them- selves are to be legislators and governors, — if there should be a time when the common people are taught to believe that a sub- ordination of ranks and conditions is contrary to the laws of God and nature, and that the inequality they perceive in the possessions of the rich and poor is a proof of the diseased state of the body politic, — if such should be the delusions of the community, wliich the traitorous designs of others aim at rendering general ; in such a crisis it cannot be the part of true patiotism to attempt the reform or amendment even of confessed imperfections. The hazard oi the experiment at such a time is apparent to all rational and reflec- ting men. It is then we feel it our duty to resist all attempts at innovation — to cherish with gratitude the blessings we enjoy, and quietly await a more favorable opportunity of gently and easily removing our small imperfections — trivial, indeed, when balanced against that high measure of political happiness of which the com munity at large is possessed. BOOK THE FIFTH CHAPTER I. Fate of the Roman Republic decided by the Battle of Actium — Rei^n of A *- gustus — Birth of our Saviour Jescs Christ — Tiberius — Cruc-fixion of our Saviour — Caligula — Claudius— Nero— Galba — Oiho — Viiellius — V^espamiaa — Titus — Domitian — Nerva — Trajan — Adrian. The batlle of Actium decided, as we have above seen, the fate of the Roman republic; and Ociavins, now hailed by the splendid title of Augustus, was master of the Roman empire. We have seen this singular person raise himself to the highest siunmit of power, without a tincture of those manly and heroic virtues which generally distinguish the authors of imjioriant revolutions. Those fortunate circumstances which concurred to })romoie his elevation; the adoption by Julius Cssar, the weakness of Lepidus, the irifa'- uation of xMark Antony, the treachery of Cleopatra, and, perhaps, more than all, his own insinuating llattory and duplicity of con- duct — were shortly hinted at as the great instruments in the good fortune of Augustus. Possessing that sagacity which enabled lum to discern distinctly what species of character woidd please the people, he had, in addition to this, all that versatilitv of genius which enabled him to assume it; and so successfully did he follow out this idea, that to those unacquainted with the former conduct of the man, nothini; was UDW discernible l)ut the (pialities which were indicative o| goodness, and virtue, and munificence. The fate of Ca'sar warned him of the insecurity of an usurped dominion; and we shall sec him, whilst he studiously imitated the clemency of his great pre- decessor, affect a much greater degree of respect for the pretended rights of that degraded jieople whom he ruled at the same time will) the most absolute aiithc.rity. lie had not yet returned from J-^gypt when, at Rome, tliev had already decreed him every honor both human and divine. The title of Impemtor was conferred on him for life. His colleague, Sextus Apidcius, along with the whole senate, look a solemn oath to obey the emperor's decrees; and i( was determined that he should liold the consulate so long as h« 476 UNivKiisAi. irisTouY. [book v. estecnied it nrM;ess:iry for tho iiilcrosts of the people. Such was the conlciiipiible servility of all ranks of llic stale, that tem- ples were erected to his honor, and piihlic worship and sacrifice performed at the altars of tiie "divine Augustus." lie, howev- er, with hccoming modesty, requested that these honors might be paid to him in the provinces alone, as at Rome lie should never regard himself but as a private citizen invested with the superin- tendence of the rights and liberties of the republic. The stale being now in profound peace, the temple of Janus, which had re- mained open since the beginning of the second Punic war — a pe- riod of 183 years — was shut, — an event which occasioned the most universal joy. This single circumstance contributed much to abolish the memory of all those cruelties, proscriptions, and complicated horrors, which had accompanied the triumvirate and the civil wars; and the "infatuated Romans now believed them- selves a free people, since they had no longer to fight for their liberty."* It was the policy of Augustus to keep up this favorable delu- sion, by extraordinary marks of indulgence and munificence. He gratified the people by continually amusing them with their favor- ite games and spectacles; he afTected an extreme regard for all the ancient popular customs; he pretended the utmost deference for the senate; he re-established the Comitia, which the internal commotions of the government had prevented from being regu- larly held; he flattered the people with the ancient right of elect- ing their own magistrates; if he jirescnted candidates, it was only to give a simple recommendation, under reservation that they should be judged worthy by the people, and the people, on their part, could not but regard as the most certain symptom of desert, the recommendation of so gracious a prince. It was in this man- ner that Augustus, by the retention of all those empty but an- cient appendages of liberty, concealed the form of that arbitrary monarchy which he determined to maintain ; and that he thus, With the most hypocritical and specious generosity, contrived, with tho machinery of freedom, to accomplish all the purposes of des- potism. After having established an appearance of order in the several departments of the state, Augustus, to complete the farce, afiected a wish to abdicate his authority, and return to the rank of a pri- vate citizen; but this was a piece of gross afTectaiion. He con- sulted Mecajnas, however, and Marcus Agrippa, whether he ought to follow his inclination. MecjEuas, with the most honest, though certainly not the wisest policy, exhorted him to put his design in execution; but Agrippa, more of a courtier, and jierhaps having more discernment into the real character of Augustus, or dreading * Condillac. CII. I.] AUGUSTUS 477 tlio repetition of those cruel and tnrbiilen. scenes which Ija>l pre- ceded liis exaltation, assured liiin tliat the pubhc happiness depen- ded entirely on his continuing to hold the reins of governmeni ; and this advice was too consonant to the actual views of Augus- tus not to be readily embraced. This seeming moderation, however, increased the popularity of Augustus, and even paved the way for an extension of his power, riie censorship had, for many years, fallen into disuse. Under the pretence of effecting a reformation of various abuses in the several orders of the community, Augustus requested thai he might be invested with censorial powers ; and having obtained inis office, he introduced many improvements in the different di-parl- ments of the government, which, alihou'^h salutary in theni'^eives, contributed much to the increase of his own authority. With this daily augmentation of power, he was not without continual alarms, for his personal safety. He was naturally timid, and the fate of Caisar was ever before him. For a considerable time, he never went to the senate-house without a suit of armor under his robe ; he carried a dagger in his girdle ; and was always surrounded by ten of the bravest of the senators, on whose attachment he could thoroughly depend. It was much to the credit of Augustus that he reposed an unlimited confidence in Mecrcnas — a most able min- ister, and one who, with the firmest attachment to his sovereign, ap- pears to have always had at heart the interest and happiness of the people. It was by his excellent counsels that Augustus was taught to assume those virtues to which his nature was a stranger; it \\a? to the patronage of Meca^nas that literature and the fine arts owed riuch of their encouragement and consequent progress; it was by his instructions, by the counsels he inculcated, that the base and inhuman Ociavius was transformed into the affable and humane Augustus. In the seventh year of his consulate, Augustus again pretended a desire to abdicate, and he actually informed the senate that he had resigned all authority ; but he was now secure of the conse- quences of this avowal. From those mercenary voices which had, no doubt, been behind the scenes, well trained to this hypocritical farce, there was now one universal cry of supplication, entreating him not to abandon that republic which he had preserved from destruc- tion, and whose existence depended on his paternal care. " Since it must be so," said he, " I accept the empire for ten years, unices the public peace and tranquillity shall permit me before that time to seek that ease and retirement which I so passionately desire.* He would not even consent to take the burden of the whole em- pire, but entreated that the senate and people should govern a part of the provinces. From the distribution which followed, we learn the extent of the Roman empire at this lime, .\ugiistus reserved for his own government Italy, the two GaiiU, Spain, Ger- many, Syria, Phrenicia, Cyprus, and Fcypl. To the senate and people were allotted .'?/nca Proprr, Numidia, Lybia. Billiy- 178 UNIVERSAL ItlSTOUV. [dOOK V Ilia, Ponlus, Greece, Illyri.n, Maccrionia, Dalmaiia, and the Islands of Crete, Sicily, and Sardinia. The provinces of wliicli Augus- tus retained the ^overnincjnt direct were tliose wlicre the legions ucrc principally stationed ! Thi! tide of Consul, which iiad heen of assistance at first in disguising his power, was now judged unnecessary by Augustus ; and the annual ceremony of the renewal of this dignity perhaps lecalled too strongly to the minds of the people the irrevocable tenure by which he held it. He resigned it, therefore, in the eleventh year of liis consulate ; and, as a compensation for this exorcise of moderation, the people entreated him to accept of the oflice of Perpetual Tribune. By this refined policy, every in- crease of power seemed, so far from any encroachment upon his part, to be forced upon him by the anxious entreaty of the peo- ple. In virtue of this last office, he became in all causes, civil as well as criminal, the supreme judge. Formerly in the republic there had never been recognised any right of appeal from any of the courts to the tribunes; but the people, who had always till now considered themselves as possessing the supereminent right of appeal, now voluntarily conferred it upon their perpetual tri- bune, as their chief magistrate and virtual representative. iMarcellus, the nephew of Augustus, to whom he had given his daughter in marriage, and whom he destined for his successor — a personage of great promise — died at this time, to the unspeak- able regret of the Roman people, in the very flower of his youth. He had just completed his twentieth year, and in his talents and disposition had begun to show every indication of a great and a generous prince. He has been immortalized by Virgil in that ex- quisite eulogium, with which all are acquainted, in the sixth book of his iEneid. Marcus Agrippa was the man who seemed to stand next to this amiable youth in the affection of the emperor. Agrippa had mar- ried the niece of Augustus ; but on the death of Marcellus, he caused him to divorce her, and in return gave him his daughter, the widow of Marcellus, in marriage. This lady was the infa- mous Julia, who afterwards became so openly scandalous in her amours, that her father, after informing the senate of his reasons, cond mined her to banishment. Notwithstanding the absolute authority now possessed by Au- gustus, it 1-as still the policy of this monarch to retain all the ex- terior forms of a republic. The elections of magistrates were punc- tually held in the Comitia. Consuls were, as usual, annually chosen ; and the republic retained its aediles, its tribunes, its quaes- tors, and praetors. In the government of Augustus, and in the gradual increase of his authority, the prince, to all appearance de- rives his power from the people. After a little, we shall observe the emperor artecting to conceal this truth ; and in the sequel, it will be toiallv forgotten. CII I.] AUGUSTUS. 479 While AugusUis had thus, step by step, arrived ut ihc si.mmit of power, his son-in-law Agrippa had entirely brought undi-r sub- jection tiie Spanish peninsula, where, for nearly two centuries, the Romans had been compelled to a continual struggle. Augustus, to secure his own authority, by firmly attaching to himself so able a general, associated him with himself in the oflice of censor. The two censors immediately applied themselves with great vigor to the reformation of abuses. Augustus, perhaps not hypocriti- cally, affected the highest regard to the purity of public njorals, although in his own j)rivate life he is known to have been profli- gate and vicious. The tenth year, the period which he had appointed for laymg down his authority, had now arrived. He accordingly did so, and, at the earnest entreaty of the people, again resumed it ; and so fond does he appear to have been of this solemn farce, that five times in the course of his government he amused the nation wiiJ) this empty pageantry of their pretended ])ower. The empire was now again threatened with war, and Augustus set out for Gaul, into which the Germans had begun now to make those irrtiptions, which proved afterwards so fatal to the provinces. Drusus, in the meantime, defeated the llha?iians, a peo|)le inhabiting part of the n tern Switzerland ; and Agrippa restored peace to Asia. In marking the successive steps of despotism, it is not unnecessary to mention that this general was the first who refused the honor of a triumph, which gave rise to this privilege belonging ever af- terwards only to the emperors ; and that he omitted also, for the first time, that customary form of acquainting the senate with the detail of his military operations, corresponding with .Vugustus alone. In these matters, of course, his example became hence- forth the rule. At this time died Marcus Agrippa, and his widow Julia now took her third husband, Tiberius, who became thus by a double tie the son-in-law of Augustus, for the emperor had likewise mar- ried his mother Livia. Augustus was then at war with the Pan- nonians, Dacians, and Dalmatians. Tiberius and his brother Drusus commanded the armies iigain<^t those barbarous tribes with great success, but, to the deej) regret of the Romans, their particular favorite Drusus died in Germany, leaving three children, Germani- cus, Claudius (afterwards emperor.) and Julia, mwried to Cains Ca?sar. Caius was the son of .\grippa by Julia, whom .Xugustus had adopted, along with his brother Lucius. These two princes died soon after, jioisoned as it was supposed by Livia, the wife of .Au- gustus, to make way for the succession of her son Tiberius, This dark and ambitious man now bent all his |)owers to gain the con- fidence of .Augustus, who, upon his return from a successful cam paign against the Germans, not only allowed him the honor of a triumph, but associated him with himself in the government of the empire. .\t the request of Augustus also, the people, accustomed "laO U.MVKUSAI, IIISTOKV. [hOOK V now to uiilliuilt'd ( oinpliiinre, cnnferrcd upon Tiljciiiis ilic goveiii- inent of llio provinces and the supreme coininaiid of llie airnies On the ground of his advanced age, the emperor now found an opportunity of shaking off all that dependence upon the senate and people to which his policy had hiiherto confined iiim. He no longer ca. no regularly to the senate, but formed a sort of privy council, consisting of twenty senators, together with the consuls of the year, and the consiiles dcsignati; and it was determined in the senate, that the resolutions of this assembly should have the same authority as the senatus consulla. Augustus did not long survive this his last and boldest innovation. He died soon after at Nola, in Campania, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, after having, in conjunction with Mark Antony, ruled the Ronum repub- lic for nearly twelve, and governed alone as emperor for forty-four years. In treating of the Roman literature, we observed that high de- gree of advancement to which it attained under the reign of Au- gustus ; and we may attribute no small part of that lustre which has been thrown upon his administration, to the splendid coloring bestowed on his character by the illustrious poets who adorned his court, and repaid his favors by their incense and adulation. " Vixere fortes ante Ajjamemnona Multi,sed omiies illacrymabiles Urgentur ignotique longa Nocte, carcnt quia vate sacro." Augustus, by his testament, had named Tiberius his heir, to- gether with his mother Livia, and substituted to them Drusus, the son of Tiberius, and Germanicus. Tiberius was no favorite with the body of the people. They knew him to be vicious and de- bauched, and of a severe and cruel disposition ; yet to so low a pitch of degradation had they now fallen, that the very dread of these vices in his character operated so strongly on their servile niinds as to secure his succession to the empire without a whisper of opposition. An embassy of the senators was deputed to offer him the reins of government while he was on his return from Illyria. He received them with much afiected humility ; talked of the burden of so extensive an empire and his own limited abil- .ty; pretended uncommon unwillingness to undertake so exalted an office ; and, at length, after the usual ceremony of tears and supplication on the part of the senate, was at last prevailed to yield to their entreaties. Notwithstanding these promising symptoins, this was all the n:\ockery of moderation with which Tiberius ever condescended to Hatter the prejudices of the senate or the people ; for it soon after appeared that he esteemed the power enjoyed by his predecessor as far too little for his ambition. It was not sufficient for him that the substance of the republic was now gone for ever ; the very appearance of it, and all those forms which recalled it to his CH. I.] TIBERIUS. 431 recollection, were judged necessary to bo abolished A * Justus had received from the people the power of legislation, but he left them in return the right of electing their own magistrates, and al. the privileges of the Comitia. Tibi-rius at once abolished all these formalities. The |)eople were no longer assembled, yet the eir • peror did not choose to break entirely with the senate. He fre- quently atlected to consult them, or at least to communicate tc them his resolutions, and flattered them still with the possession of a shadow of authority. The uncertainty of the laws with regard to treason gave at las. to Tiberius an oj)portunity of discovering his natural disposition Sylla had declared the authors of libels guilty of treason. This law had fallen into disuse under Julius Ca;sar, who treated such offences with their meriteil contempt. Augustus had revived ll», law; Tiberius, with his usual dissimulation, neither renewed it no: abrogated it. The praetor having asked if he should take co; nizance of such offences, the emperor vouchsafed him no other answer than that ho should observe the laws; an answer whicl. sufficiently informed the people what they had to expect, wliiis. Tiberius j)ersuaded himself that he thus avoided all imputation of adopting sanguinary measures. Meantime his nephew, Germanicus, who was acquiring zte^. glory by his military exploits in Germany, was recalled by Tibe- rius, wlio had become jealous of his popularity with the army. The emperor sent him to the oriental provinct;s on the pretence of quelling some insurrections, and a short time after he (Iieil~-a5 ivas suspected of poison administered to him by command ol Ti- berius. Every vicious prince has his favorite, the minister of his pleasure, and the obsequious instrument of his criminal or tyranni- cal purposes. iElius Sejanus was prefect of the pranorian bandj-. who were the emperor's guards — a body of men amounting then to ten thousand of the flower of the troops, but who, increasing in number and in j)olitical power, became at last the sovereisn dis- posers of the empire. Sejanus, their prefort, accpiirrd at length so complete an ascendoncy over the mind of T/uerius, that he over- came ilie natural reserve and suspicion of his temper, and became the confidant of his most secret thought?. It was not to be won- dered at that this minion should entertain the highest views of airh bition. He conceived no less a design than to exterminate the whole family of the Cn'sars, and his first step was the poisoning of Drusns, the son of Tiberius, wliich he contrived to execute so secretly that he escaj)ed nil suspicion both of the emperor and of the j)eople. His next design was to rcmovt; ;\crip;)ina, the widow of Germanicus, with her two sons, Nero and tbo younger Dni^iis. Sejanus accordingly represented Agrippina to Tiberius as a women of unlimited ambition, and who secretly fomented a party of maJ«*- contents in the state as assistants to her own aggrandizement nnc tl^t of her sons. To this accusation, the natural pride and h.?iigh vol.. I. 'il 482 UNivEiisAi. HISTORY. [book V tiness of llic loii)|)cr of Aj;ri|)j)ina gave some shadow of color, and sl)e niiii Nero, lier eldest son, were condemned to banishment, whilst ihe younger Drnsus, was confined to prison. Every day now produced some new information, some pretended chir::e of treason hrouf^ht by Sejanus and his infamous minions against iho most eminent persons of liie court; and the idea that thesJ informations were pleasing to the dark and vindictive mind of the emperor, began to multiply them exceedingly. The con- stant executions for treason, by which Sejanus was daily clearing the;way for the accomplishment of his own designs, produced at length such an effect on the gloomy temper of Tiberius, that he believed his life to be in continual danger. At the instigation of Sejanus, he quitted Rome and retired to the Isle of Capreac, in the Day of Naples, carrying with him a few of the senators, and some Greek literati, in whose conversation he professed to find entertainment. It is said that in this retreat the old tyrant gave himself up to excesses in debauchery which exceed all credibility. It is certain, however, that the severity of his former manner of life was very opposite to such licentiousness of character, and we may naturally presume that the haired of his subjects, and the concealment which he probably chose from the consideration of personal safety, have given occasion to much aspersion, or at least to great exaggerations on the subject. Sejanus, meanwhile, had acquired an absolute authority in Rome, and was sovereign in every thing but the name. It was but a small step, to a villain of his complexion, to aim likewise at that last acquisition. He formed, therefore, a design, to assassi nate Tiberius; — but the conspiracy was discovered. Such, how- ever, was the influence of Sejanus, that the emperor was obliged to use art and address to bring him to punishment. He at first load- ed him with caresses, and caused him to be nominated to the con- sulate. He then took occasion privately to sound the minds of the people, and hinted some groinids of dissatisfaction w ith his conduct, which instantly he perceived to cool the zeal of his former flitterers and pretended friends. Convinced now of the ground on which he stood, and certain that this dreaded popularity of Sejanus was hol- low, and the effect of power alone, whilst he was really detested oy all ranks in the state, Tiberius deemed it time to throw off the mask. He sent, therefore, an officer to deprive him of the command of the praetorian guards; and accusing him at the same lime of trea- son by a letter to the senate, Sejanus was instantly arrested, con- demned to death by acclamation, torn to pieces, and thrown into the Tiber. Tiberius now became more negligent than ever of the cares of government, and confusion prevailed in every depart- ment of the state. The magistracies were unsupplied, the distant provinces were without governors, and the Roman name became contemptii)le. The only exertions of the imperial power were manifested in public executions, confiscations, and the most com- plinated scenes of cruelty and rauine. At lensth the emoire was- CII. I,' CALIGULA. 489 delivered from this odious tyrant, who falling sick at Miscnuin, was strangled in his bed by Macro, the new j)refect, who had succeeded Sejanus in tiie connnand of the praetorian cohorts. He was put to death in the 78ih year of liis age, and the 2.jrd of his reign. One great event distinguished the reign of Tiberius. In the 18th year of that reign, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and the divine author of our religion, sulTered death upon the cross, a sacrifice and propitiation for the sins of mankind. It is said tiiat soon after his death, Pilate, the Jewish governor, wrote to Tiberius an account of his passion, resurrection, and mi- racles, upon which the emperor made a report of the whole to the senate, desiring that Jesus might be acknowledged a god by the Romans, but that the senate, dis[)leased that the j)roposal had not come from themselves, refused the emperor's request. This last circumstance utterly discredits the story, for the Roman senate dared not refuse the request of Tiberius. The progress of the Christian religion, from its first institution till the utter extinction of Paganism in the Roman empire, will form the future subject of a connected chapter. By his testament, the emperor had nominated as his successor Caligula, tiie son of Germanicus, and his grandson by adoption, together widi Tiberius, the son of Drusus, and his grandson by blood. Caligula was, on his father's account, the favorite of the people, and more especially of the soldiers, amongst whom he liad been educated; and the senate, to gratify the people, chose to set aside the nomination in favor of Tiberius, and to confer the sove- reignty on Caligula alone. His accession to the empire, gave, therefore, universal satisfaction ; and, for a time, he condescended to maintain this favorable opinion by a few acts of clemency and moderation. He removed the informers who swarmed through Rome., and had been the bane of the preceiling reign. He re- stored for a while the privileges of the Comitia, and he gratified the people still more by their favorite exhibition of |)ublic games and shows. But this dawn of sunshine soon gave place to a day of gloom and horror. Caligula, weary of dis.simulation, threw ofT the mask at once. Macro, the murderer of his predecessor, was too dangerous a man to continue long in tiiat favor with Cali- gula in which this ))iece of service; had placed him — he was accord- ingly murdered. The young Tiberius, although then no favorite of the people, might become so, when they discovered the real temper of the rival they had preferred to him. lie was, there- fore, speedily cut ofT. Caligula had abolished informations on account of treason, but he did so only to facilitate the rapidity of execution, and he now, therefore, required not the formality of an information. He put to death, without assigning even a pretence, whatever person he took a prejudice against. It is inconceivable to what excess this monster proceeded. His whole reign, with the excej)tion of a few months at its coramencement, was one 'lu 1 UMVK.nsAL IIISTOUV. [jiOOK V ronrimipcl niul romplicatod srniie of madness and cruelty. "Ca- lij^tiln," says Montesruiion, " was a true sophist in his cruehy : as ho was the desrendaiit of both Antony and Augustus, he was wont to say, that ho would f)tniish both those who celebrated the anniversary of the battle of Actium, and those who did not." Upon the death of his sister, Drusilla, he punished some for mourning for her, because they ought to have known she was a goddess ; and put to death others for not mourning, because she was the sister ©f the emperor. In addition to all this, Caligula loaded the provinces with the most excessive taxes ; and such was his avarice, that every day some of the citizens fell a sacrifice in the confiscations of their ]iroperty. It would only create disgust were we to enter into any detail of the comj)licated and ingenious cruelties and the absurd extravagances of a madman — of the multiplied instances of his folly as well as of his depravity — his ridiculous mock campaigns — the temples he erected in honor of himself, where, in the charac- ter of his own priest, he offered sacrifices to himself, sometimes as Jupiter, and sometimes as Juno. One day he chose to be Mer- cury, the next he was Bacchus or Hercules. At last, in the fourth year of his reign, tiiis monster met with the fate which he deserved, and was assassinated by Choreas, a tribune of the praetorian guards, in the twenty-ninth year of his age. The great body of the Roman people and of the senate would ■ ow have gladly preferred the restoration of the republic to the continuance of the empire ; but the soldiers, who were all pow- erful, preferred a military government under an emperor, over whom they begun now to discover that they could have unlimited command. At the time when Caligula "was put to death, Clau- dius, his uncle, and the brother of Germanicus, a man whose weak and childish disposition had never cherished an ambitious thought, had concealed himself in a corner of the palace for fear of assas- sination. A soldier accidentally discovering his retreat, saluted him emperor. Whilst Claudius was tremblingly begging his life to be spared, some others coming up, they put him in a litter and carried him to the camp of the praetorian guards. There, as yet afraid, and uncertain of his fate, he promised to each of the soldiers a large gratification, and received in return their oaths of allegiance. The people approved the choice, and the senate was obliged to confirm it. Thus was the empire hoxight for the first time — a practice which we shall see become in future extremely common. Claudius at the age of fifty was still a child : his countenance was that of an idiot, and his mind, naturally weak, had never re- ceived tne smallest tincture of education. He was the son of Octavia, the sister of Augustus ; but as he had never been adopted, he did not belong to the family which carried the names of Cassar and of Augustus. He assumed, however, both ; and they were nenceforth considered as titles annexed to the imperial power— CH. I.] CLAUDIUS. 495 the reigning emperoi- being always styled Augustus, and liis ap- pointed successor honored with the title of Caesar. Claudius knew that, to become popular, lie ought to go counter to every measure of his predecessor. He began, therefore, by abolishing most of his laws. He passed an act of oblivion for all former oli'ences against the state, and he aj)peared for awhile to bend his whole attention to the strict administration of justice and the establishment of good order. He even began to show symj)- toms of an enterprising disposition, which was quite opposite to all ideas w hich had hocn formed of his character from the tenor of his past life; and he undertook to reduce Britain under subjection to ihe Roman arnis, which, in the opinion of Tacitus, Julius Cx'sar had railier pointed out than concjuered. He accordingly sent thither Plauiius, one of his generals, and encouraged by his suc- cess, was induced afterwards to go thiiher in person. But this was entirely an expedition of show and parade. He remained but sixteen days in the island, leaving his lieutenants Plautius and Vespasian to prosecute the war, whicii continued with various success for many years. The Silures or inhabitants of South Wales, under their king Caradoc or Caractacns, made a most powerful and obstinate resistance. This warlike prince, with great address and military skill, contrived to remove the seat of war into the most inaccessible parts of the country, and for nine years the Romans saw no prospect of reducing this courageous people to subjection. At length, in one unfortunate engagement, the Britons were entirely defeated; the wife and daughter of Caractacns were taken prisoners; and this brave man was after- wards treacherously delivered to the Romans by Cartismandua, queen of the Brigantes, in w hose territories he had sought ri'fuge. He was soon after conducted to Rome, where he displayed that noble sjjirit which attracted from all who beheld him, at once their respect and admiration. In passing through the streets of that sumptuous capital, and observing the splendor of all the objects around him, ''Alas!" exclaimed he, " is it |)Obsiblc that liiey who possess such magnificence at home should envy Caractacus his poor cottage in Britain.'"' He apfxiarcd undismayed before tlio tribunal of the emperor, and allhough Ik; dl.-dained here to sue for parilon or for mercy, yet he was willing for the good of his people to accept of it; and Claudius, it must be acknowledged, treated him with a generous lunnanily. The commencement of this reign promiscil extremely well; but what possible dependence could there be on a man so weak as to be guided by the lowest ofiicers of his court. The servants and the freedmen of Claudius had such an ascendency over him, that they obtained from him olfices of the utmost imporlanco in the empire. The meanest of his domestics were appointed udges in tlie dilTerent tribunals, and governors of the provinces. hese dishonorable and avaricious wretches reduced peculation to ^' WQ UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [nOOK V a system, niul filled every corner of the empire wiili loud com- ))I;iii)ts ol' ihcir ra[)i(ie :ind cxtoriion. Mcssiilina, also, the vicious and iihaiidoiied wife of Claudius, urged him on to various acts of injnsiice and cruelly. This woman was infamous for all manner of vices. Her debaucheries, which were quite notorious in Rome, exceed all belief; but, what is the most sur|)rising part of her chaiarier, she had the address to pass widi Claudius, as a paragon of virtue. She at length, however, i)roceeded to that height of efTiontery, that during a short absence of Claudius she j)ublicly marri(Ml Ceror, and a deputation sent to congratulate him on this auspicious event. A cotis|iirary, which was at this time discovered, gave Nero ample sro])e for the gratification of the natural cruelty of his dis position. The slightest suspicion of guilt was now punished m\h immediate death. It was a sufllcient crime if a man was seen to have saluted a su-^pected person. Seneca, amongst others, w«i 488 uMVF.asAL history. [nooK v accused of having been privy to this conspiracy; and as a mark of the enij)eror's gratititude for the past services of his preceptor, ho was pcrniiiicd to choose the manner of liis death. He chose to expire in a warm baih, after having his veins opened. Nero, intoxicated wiih his own accomplislimcnts as a gladiator and combatant in the arena, was not content with the applause of Rome : he determined now to show himself in Greece, where he contended for, and consequently gained, the jirize at the Olympic and Pythian games. On liis return to the Capitol he celebrated a splendid triumph, where he commanded himself to be hailed by the titles of Hercules and Apollo. It becomes painful to enumerate a long series of extravagant instances of every variety of vice, and multiplied examples of the most complicated and capricious cruelty. The tyranny of this monster at length found an end Vindex, an illustrious Gaul, by his interest with his countrymen as propra?tor, excited them to a general revolt. He offered the empire to Galba, then governor of Spain, who took upon himself the title of Lieutenant of the Sen- ate and People of Rome. The provinces declared in his favor. Rome was divided, and at length the party of Vindex prevailed. Nero, abandoned by his guards, was obliged to conceal himself in the house of one of his freedmen. The senate proclaimed him an enemy to his country, and condemned him to die more majo- rum ; that is, to be scourged, thrown from the Tarpeian rock, and then flung into the Tiber. Unable to bear the thoughts of such a death, Nero tried the points of two daggers, but wanted courage to die by his own hand. He entreated the aid of one of his slaves, who was not slow in the performance of that friendly office, and was, in this manner put to death, after a reign of fourteen years, in the thirtiedi year of his age ; a character happily difficult to be paralleled in the annals of human nature. In the time of the civil wars, the generals of the republic were certain of the obedience of their troops. They were devoted to their chiefs, and although expecting a recon)pense, they never dared to claim it as their due. Things had now entirely changed A long state of servitude had annihilated every generous senti' ment. Even the names of the ancient Roiuan families were lost The soldiers now saw nothing in Rome but a despicable sen* ate, a servile populace, and immense riches — of which last they soon found that they were the supreme disposers. The pra?torian guards had now every thing at their command. Galba was of an ancient and illustrious family. He had conducted himself honor- ably in the government of several of the provinces, but old age had unfortunately turned to avarice a disposition naturally econom- ical, and his manners, rigid from his life and constitution, were now become severe and cruel. He was seventy-three years of age when he was proclaimed emperor. He had scarcely arrived in Italv, when his conduct entirely alienated the affections of the A D. 69.] G.VLBA OTllO. 489 army to whom he owed his elevation. He disappointed ihem of the reward they expected, telling tlieni that an emperor should choose his soldiers, and not purcha.;e them. The people too, who, in the time of Nero, had heen constuntiy amused with games and public shows, could not easily brook tiie loss of their favorite spec- tacles. In other instances the new emperor scrupled not to add injustice to his imprudence. Without ihe form of a trial, he stripped many of the richest citizens of their fortunes, on pretence of their having been improperly acquired uader Nero. The army in Germany were the first Jo evince a spirit of dis* affection and mutiny, and openly expressp| his own weakness, and to be sensible that his favorite passion h-i'l impelled him into a wrong course. He wished to find a sui)port '«o ilie abilities and talents of the young Piso, who was distinguished t>otn by his illus- trious birdi and by his eminent virtues. He adnmea him, there- fore, as his son, and destined him to be his successor m die empire ; but, unfortunately for the public welfare, this me3<»'ue came too late. Otho, the husband of Popp^ea, and the rival oi Piso, was of a character as decidedly infamous as the other was tuOv respect- able. He was jealous of the destined honors of Piso, ?va deter- mined to risk every thing to destroy him. He was immersed m debt, and had no means of escaj)ing ruin but by some desperate c>tiempt. It was to him a matter of indifference, he used to declare, liow he died— whether by the sword of tiie enemy or the hand nj Iikj executioner. With this genius, and in such a disposition of ni'uu. it was not surprising that he should harbor schemes of thr- higher*- and most daring import. He flattered his partisans by telling theiv that certain wise astrologers had given him a promise of the em- pire ; and, as the securest engine of policy, he was lavish of ha jji-omises to the soldiers. He prevailed upon some of the boldest of the guards to take the active part in accomplishing his designs. On a day appointed, they carried him to the pr:etorian camp. where he was proclaimed emjieror. Galba and Piso were botb murdered in attempting to (jucll the tumult, and their heads were presented to Otho, who, it is said, gave early d(^monstrations of his sanguinary dispo:iition by the exultation with which he received them. Galba had only reigned for the short sjjace of seven months. Otho, although he had found it an easy matter to induce the senate to confirm the election of the soldiers, was not without a competitor for the empire. Before the murder of Galba, Viiellius, who commanded in Germany, had been proclaimed emperor by his troops. He had arrived at authority by the same means as Otho, with a character, if possible, yet more deeply infamous. He, jmssessed himself, no military talents ; but this waul was sup- plied by the abilities of his generals, C.Tcina and VaU-im. The art of war, during the long peace which had continued, with little VOL I. 62 4'JO universal iiisToiiy. book v intermission, since the accession of Augustus, was now, in some measure, lost iu Italy. The })raitorian guards were lazy, licentious, ignorant of their (iuiy, and completely debauched by the succes- sive doiiaiivei of the emperors. It was no wonder liiai th.e aj)pre- Iiension of a civil war should have struck terror into the breasts of all who deserved the name of Roman citizens. They had no heroes to look to for their commanders — no troops animated, as f)rmcrly, by the love of glory and of their country. There existed, however, many degrad-ed and desperate men, who were pleased with this prospect, in the hopes of profiling by the public ruin : whilst those cowardly minds, which composed the bulk of the citizens, were depressed with fear, or sunk in indolence and despondency. Vitelliiis was at first unsuccessful in his pretensions to the em- pire. Ca}cina and Valens did not act in concert ; and Otho, had he possessed one spark of Roman spirit, would have found it easy to crush his rival in the beginning. He was resolved, at length, to hazard a decisive battle, but he had not courage to head the troops in person. His army was defeated at Bedriacum, between Mantua and Cremona, where above forty thousand men fell on each side. Otho might still have retrieved matters. Since his accession he had ingratiated himself wid) the soldiers, who earn- estly urged him to continue the war. He had even gained, by an appearance of moderation, some affection from the people ; and with these supports he might yet, by one vigorous effort, have foiled his ambitious rival. But despair had taken possession of him : his resolution was fixed, and no persuasion could alter it. For ibis resolution he assigned those generous motives of prevent ing the cfllislon of blood, and preserving the lives of his subjects ; for which, unfortunately, the tenor of his former life wil^ hardly permit us to give him credit. It must be owned, however, tliat his death was heroical. He gave his last orders with the utmost composure, provided as well as he could for the safety of his friends, whom he entreated to make a timely submission to the conqueror ; like Cato, went to rest, slept with tranquillity, and, on awakening, fell upon his own sword. He had reigned for three months with considerable moderation, but the known vices of iiis character gave too much reason to believe that this short period of good administration would have been like the deceitful prelude of Nero. Rome was now in the hands of a brutal tyrant, who affected no disguise to conceal his natural disposition. Vitellius was aban- doned to every species of vicious debauchery. It is sufficient to paint his character to say, thnt he expressed a most devoted regard for the memory of Mro. Fortunately, this reign was not of long continuance. Vespasian, a man of obscure family, but possessed of strong native talents, had raised liimself by servile offices under Caligula A. D. 63. \ VESPASIAV. 491 and Claurliiis, and had at leiiglli arrived at tlic consu ship. Under Nero he had obtained the command of the army in the wai n;:ainst the Jews, and liad condncted it with cf|ual courage and ability. The legions he coiiiinanded in the East taking ofTcnce^ very naturally, when they perceived their fellow-soldiers dis|)osiMg o! the emj)ire at pleasure, and enjoying in ease all the fruits of tins exercise of power, thougii: it tiiue for themsehcs, in their turn, to choose an emperor. Vespasian was persuaded by Mucianus, the governor of Syria, to offer himself a candidate, on the usual tcnriS of a large donative. Tne soldiers proclaimed him, and he was immediately acknowlcdg'^d over a.I the East. A great p;irt of Italy subnjittsd t? h.s r.enpra.s; and Vitellius, within a few months of his succession, saw himsdf reduced to the alternative of resign- ing the empire^ or of dv"ng liice his predecessor. He chose the former, and imnicdiately cor.c ui?jd a shameful treaty with Sabi- nus, the brother of Vespasian, then prefect of Rome, by which lie saved his life; obtainui2;, m return for his resignation of die empire, the liberty of retiring to Campania, with a considerable yearly pension. This treaty tne dastardly emp.ror read himself to t!io people, crying all the wniie like a child. He then submissively prepared to strip himself of all the ensigns of authority. The spirit of the citizens was roused at this self-degradation. They compelled him to return to his palace, and attacked the party of Sabinus, who retired to the Capitol. They burnt down the tem- ple of Jupiter, seized Sabinus, and put him to death at (he feet of Vitellius. In the meanwhile Priscus, one of the generals of Ves- pasian, arriving wiUi his army at the very time when the whole city was employed in the cciebration of the Satiunalia, took imme- diate possession, without any opposition. Neither die considera- tion of glory nor of safety were sufficient to call ofT the minds of this miserable and degraded peo|)le from their favorite amusements. Vitellius was found conceuled in the cnambcr of a slave. He was brought into the forum with a rope about hi? nock, loaded with reproaches, and ignominiously put to death, in the eighth montn of his reign. Vespasian was anions; tnoso few princes whose character has changed for the better on their arrival at empire. Augustus, from a vicious and cruel man, oecaine, ii' not a virtuous, in many respects an admirable prince. Vespasian had ingratiated liimsolf by the most servile flattery with Caligu.a and Claudius, and raised himself oy degrees from the meanest station to rank and distinc- tion. His character. i,vaovc fic came to the empire, was at the best an equivocal one; but no sooner did he mount the throne, than all these suspicions were at once shown to be uiifounded. He gave a general pardon to all who had been found in arms against him. He allowed every citizen, provided he spoke only of his own grievances, to have free access to his person, but de- clared war against that vile race of jiensioncd informers, whicli 492 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [ had intiltiplicd so exceedingly during the preceding reigns. manners were simole, but his administration evinced both vi and discernment. It was his custom every summer, when he could procure a respite from the busy scenes of the state, to retire to a small country house he had at Reti, where his mother lived, where he had been himself born, and which he took a pleasure to preseive in the same humble appearance in which he had known it m the days of his infancy. Under this reign, the senate, had any ancient virtue remained in that body or in Rome, might have recovered its former lustre. Vespasian communicated all affairs to that body. He also, in conjunction with his son Titus, aj)plied himself to complete the number of the senators, as well as that ol the Roman knights, which body had been diminished, and almost exterminated, by the tyranny of his predecessors. The avarice of Vespasian is the only vice which sullies his im perial character. He renewed many of the most odious of the taxes of Galba, and added some others equally grievous; and yet the low state of the public funds, and the laudable purposes to which he uniformly applied the public money, may perhaps form some apology for this single vice. Under this reign was termi- nated the war with the Jews. They had been brought under \ha Roman yoke by Pompey, who had taken Jerusalem ; under Augustus they were for some time governed by Herod as viceroy, but the tyranny of his son Archelaus provoked Augustus to banish him, and to reduce Judasa into the ordinary state of a Roman province. The stubborn character of that people was ill fitted for obedience to governors whose religion they held in abhorrence. They were continually rebelling on the slightest occasion. Nero had. sent Vespasian to reduce them into order, and he had com- pleted the subjugation of the whole country except the capital, when he was summoned to the cares of empire. He left the chai'ge. of the war to his son Titus, who concluded it by the taking of Jerusalem. That ill-fated city, whose ruin, — doomed by the Almighty, and predicted by prophets, — was accomplished rather oy the intemperate zeal and inflexible obstinacy of its inhabitants ilian by the arms of its enemies, was carried by storm, after every means had been in vain tried by the humane Titus to persuade the Jews to surrender. The temple was burnt to ashes, and the city buried in ruins. Vespasian now shut the temple of Janus, and associated his son Titus with himself in power. He conferred upon him the com- mand of the praetorian guards, and employed him as his counsellor and first minister. xVt the age of sixty-nine he began to feel the approaches of his decay, and falling sick, retired to his little coun- try-seat at Reti, where, although sensible that his death was near, he continued still to occupy himself uninterruptedly with the cares of government. An emperor, he said, ought to the standing, and thus in truth died Vespasian, after a prosperous and able reign of sine years and eleven months. i. D. 80.] TITLS HERCLI.ANEL-.M, ECT. 493 Ilis son Titus had early evinced the most favorable dispositions. The abilities of his mind were efjiial to his personal accomplish- ments, and the qualities of his heart were inferior to neither. He seemed born to form the happiness of his people. He possessed heroism sufficient to have revived the ancient splendor of the Uonjans, and that tempered with a humanity and moderation uhicli are but too rarely its attendants. Such was certainly his genuine character; for those who mention a few follies of his youth, as the indications of a vicious disposition, should remember what were the manners of the courts of Claudius and Nero in which he received his education. The intemperate follies of youth were Boon abandoned for the care of his jjcople, whose hap|jiness became, from the moment of accession, his only study. He removed from all employrnenls such as were of a dubious or dislionorahle char- acter, lie continued in office every man of virtue wh^m his father had employed. Yet, with the strictness of moral feeling where it might conduce to the welfare of his people, his temper was f;ir from being rigid. He knew the taste of the nation for their favor- ite amusements, and the amphitheatre which he built was of mag- nificence suitable to the grandeur of the em])ire. In the first year of the reign of Titus, happened that most remarkable ernj)tion of Mount Vesuvius which overwhelmed the cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, and in which the elder Pliny lost his life, from an earnest curiosity to be a near witness of that striking spectacle. He had determined to embellish his Natural History with a description of that most interesting phenomenon, and for this purpose rushed eagerly into that situation of danger from which others were as eagerly attempting to escape. He was there suffocated by a cloud of suI|-)hureous va|ior. His nephew, *.he younger Pliny, has given a vivid dcscri]ition of this remarkable scene, in a letter to Tacitus the historian, (lib. vi. epist. If).) Of the cliaracter of his uncle, he says, with justice, " Equidem heaios puto qnibus deorum munere datum est aut facere scribenda, aut scribere legenda. Beatissimos vero quibus utrumque ; I'orum n numcro avunculus meus."* The desolation of Campania, occa- sioned by this terrible eruption of Vesuvius, was remedied to (he utmost by the beneficence of Titus, who set apart large funds for the relief of the sufferers. In order to judge of their 'osses, he went himself to Campania, and by a kind of fatality, whilst absent on this benevolent ex|)edition, a fire, which broke out in the city, desolated a great jiart of Rome. The losses occt.£"cred to his subjects,* by these reiterated calamities, he repaired at his own charges, not from the public money, which is generally the treasury " " I esteem those the truly happy oC nimkiml to whom the poie.- sixth year of his govcriinieiit. Those disorders in the empire which, as we have seen, began will) the reign of Commochis, continued for about a century, liU tlie accession of Diocletian. That interval was filled up by the reigns of Ileliogabalus, Alexander Severus, Maximin, Gord'an, Decius Giillns, Valerianus, Gallienus, Claudius, Aurelian, Tacitus, Probus, and Cams. The history of those reigns has been bril- liantly given by Mr. Gibbon: and pleasure and profit must ever accompany the productions of that aoic, though sometimes dan- gerous, pen ; but our plan confines js necessarily to such general views as furnish useful lessons of the knowledge of mankind, and, excluding all minuteness of detail, looks only to those circumstan- ces which may tend to illustrate the great doctrines of politics or of morality. In tliat catalogue of names which we enumerated. Valerian, a prince of considerable virtues, but enfeebled by age before he attained the empire, was the first of the Roman empe- rors who i)crished in captivity. In an unsuccessful expedition against Sapor, king of Persia, he was taken prisoner, treated, as is said, with every circumstance of indignity, and languished the re- mainder of his days in misery. During the reign of his son Gal- lienus., there were actually nineteen pretenders to the sovereigntj of diOerent parts of the Roman empire. One of these, a native of Palmyra, Odenaihus, by an effectual opposition to the progress of Sapor in Syria, was the preserver of that valuable province Gallienus, sensible of his merits, conferred on him the title (/ Augustus ; and Odcnathus, like an independent sovereign, be- queathed at his death his crown to his widow Zenobia. Claudius, the successor of Gallienus, occupied in his wars against the Ger man nations, allowed Zenobia to reign in peace over several of the Asiatic provinces, to which she added, by conquest, the king- dom ot Egypt. For five years she maintained a splendid and politic dominion. But Aurelian, the successor of Claudius, after the reduction of the Germans, and the recovery of Gaul, Sp?in, and Britain, out of the hands of Tetricus, a bold usurper, turned the arms of the empire against this heroic queen of the East. She defended her dominions with a manly spirit, and maintained a siege in her capital of Palmyra, which for a while baffled the ut- most effbris of the Roman arms. The city, however, at le»-gth surrendered, and Zenobia, attempting to escape by flight upor» the back of a dromedary, was taken and conveyed a prisoner to Au- relian. He brought the captive princess to Rome, where she, together wiUi Tetricus, graced the triumph of Aurelian; he queen bound in fetters of gold. The emperor assigned her an elegant villa, near Rome, for her residence. The Syrian queen gradually sunk into a Roman matron ; her daughters married into Roman families; and her race was not yet extinct in the fifth century. The succeeding reigns of Tacitus, Probus, and Carus, occupy 4.. D. 305. J DIOCLETIA.V AND MAXIMI IV. 507 a spnce of nine years, in t!io first seven of which- -ilic reigns of Taciius and Probus — the Roman empire was seen in a siaie both of splendor and of happiness. To Cams sncceoded Diocletian, who bsgan his reign in iha 234lh year of the Christian era, and who soon evinced himself a prince of the greatest talents in every respect, but more especially as a politician. He may be considered, like Augustus, as the founder of a new empire. By birth a Dalmatian, and of mean extraction, he had yet raised himself, by his MiL'rit, to the supreme command in the army, and, having gained the empire, he determined to govern it by a new system of administration. Fie divided into four different governments the whole of the impe- rial dominions, and all the doparlmsnts of authority, civil and mili- tary. There were aj)pointed to these, four different governors, with equal powers. Diocletian associated Maximiaii with himself as his colleague in thj empire, with the tide of Augustus; and bestowed on his two generals, Galerius and Constantius, the titles of Cnesars. The f)ur princes had each their distinct department: Galerius was stationed on the Danube to g'lard the Illyrian provinces; Constantius had the command of Gaul, Spain, and Britain; .Ma\i- tnian that of Italy and Africa; and Diocletian of Thrar-e, E:jypt, and the Asiatic provinces. Each was supreme in his own district, and, what is truly singular, and evinces the talents of Diocletian, all lived in harmony, and in the most perfect good understanding with each other. This plan of dividing the em|)ire was evidLMiily a bad one in itself, nor could it possibly have been supported but by the superior and controlling genius of Diocletian. He allotted, in appearance, an equality of powers to his colleagues; but, in fact, the eminence of his own character and the superiority of his genius gave him always a decided preeminence, and the other princes were little more than his viceroys or lieutenants. At times he would make them understand this even with arrogance and harshness. Galerius had been defcatcil by the Persians, or. which occasion Diocletian treated him with the utmost roniempl, making him follow his chariot on foot; nor was he restored to favor till he had by his successes regained his credit, and with this an equality of power. Under the roigu of this emperor, all vestiges of the ancieni liberty of ilio Roman constitution were entirely annihilated. The sovereign assumed that ensign of royalty most odious lo the Ro- mans, the diadem, and introduced at home all the magnificent ceremonial of tha Persian court. The name of the Senate of Rome continued to be respected, but this body ceased to have the smallest weight or influence in affairs of state. By the vigor of Diocletian's administration, and the active abilities of his asso- ciates in power, the Roman arms Tcgaiiifd for a whil? their ancieni splendor, and general godd order pervaded the empire. It was durin"^ this reign, also, that the uortliern barbarians, who for some 51Q UNIVERSAL mbTORY. [bOOK V time b^'fore had madt; themselves known by some partial irrup- tions, poured down in prodigious swarms upon the extremities of the empire. The Scythians, Goths, Sarmalians, Alani, and Quadi, began to make dreadful inroads, and for a while every successive defeat seemed only to increase their strength and perseverance. At this period, Diocletian, along wiih his colleague Maximian, surprised the world by resigning at once the royal dignity, and, leaving the government in the hands of tlie two Caesars, voluntarily returned to the condition of private citizens. Diocletian retired to Salona, the place of his nativity, now Spalatro, in Dalinatia, where he built a palace superior in extent and magnificence to any of his predecessors. In this seclusion from the cares of gov- ernment he lived for several years, and was wont to say, that he counted the day of his retreat as the beginning of his life. Maxi- mian, who had abdicated not from individual choice, but in conse- quence of a promise exacted on his admission to a siiare in the government, retired less willingly to Lucania. Constantius and Galerius now jointly governed the Roman empire, but soon after, Constantius died in Britain, and his son Constanline, succeeding in the command of the troops, caused himself to be proclaimed emperor in the city of York. He immediately acquainted Galerius of (his event, who was by no means heartily disposed to acknow- ledge his nomination. On Constanline he conferred, or raiher continued to him, the title of CcX^sar, whilst he associated with himself in the empire his favorite Severus. Meanwhile, Maximian- was prevailed upon by his son Maxentius to abandon his retire- ment, and to resume the purple. They engaged, defeated, and put to death Severus; and Maximian, to unite his interest with Constanline against Galerius, gave him his daughter in marriage, by which alliance Constanline acquired a double tide to the em- piro. Soon after this, Maximian, for what cause is not ascertained, died by his own hand, and Galerius was carried off by a mortal disease. Maxentius and Constantino, therefore, reniained upon the stage to contend for the prize of undivided empire. It was at diis lime that Constanline, being converted to Christianity — (as is said, by a miraculous vision,) — the true religion, after strug- gling wiih every opposition which ignorance, credulity, and per« secution could have brought against il, ascended at last the impe- rial throne. Maxentius, on the other hand, from haired to his rival, exerted himself in the most violent persecution of all who professed that religion. The Christians were at this time extremely numerous, both at Rome and in the provinces, and it became, therefore, an event of the greatest joy to them, that Maxentius in the first battle was defeated and slain, leaving Constanline un- disputed master of the Roman empire. The first step of his administration was to break up the pre nr'an bands, a measure equally politic for his own safety and agreeable to the people. He re-established the senate in its ancient deliber- A. D. 330.] COXSTANTINE CO.NSTAVT INOPI.F.. 509 ative rights; commenced the repair r.f Romr and the oihor ritios of Italy; and used his utmost endeavor hy a firm, thnn-h a ejcntlc and equitable administration, to promote tlie happiness and interest of his people. Aware of the dan:;(^r of disgusting the puhlic mind by any sudden or violent innovation upon those opinions whifh ong custom had rendered sacred, he accepted the title of Pontifex Mtiximus, and in his first edicts .only granted to the Christians the public exerciye of their religion; but his own example daily increased the number of proselytes, and he soon after began to establish churches for their worship. In these first vears of his reign, the civil administration of Con'-Mantine was excnllent. Evfrv approach to oppression in the officers of the revenue met with an innnodiate check, and he abrogated that cruel institution which inflicted corporal punishment upon those who were debtors to the state. His maxim was, that equity ought ever to preponderate over strict law, and ought to deterinine all cases wherein law i^ doubtful. But amid these excellent features in the chararter of Constantine, it is painful to remark that a disposition to crueliv appeared, which sullied much of his glory. In an expedition against the Franks, a northern nation who had begun to make inroads on the Gauls, the prisoners taken in war were, with the most shocking inhumanity, exposed in the amphitheatre to be devoured by wild beasts. One Licinius, a Dacian, had by Gaierius been nominated Caesar, and on the death of Gaierius maintained possession of the .\siaiic provinces. Constantine had not thought it expedient to dispute his right, while as yet his own was not thoroughly established, and had even virtually acknowledged it by giving him his sistnr in marriage. Licinius was a persecutor of the Christians, and this became soon a sufficient ground for Constantine to shake him of]'. He accordingly declared war against him as an enemy to God, and armin^a fleet of 200 galleys, and I. SO, 000 men, he attacked him in .Asia, and gained a complete victory. His rival was made prisoner, and was promi^jcd his life, but this pronnsewas shamefully and dishonoraijiy broken, and Licinius strnnirled in |>rison. Constantine, now absolute and sole master of the empire, prr- ceeded openly to signali/e his zeal for Christianity. He ordered the temples to be shut, and prohibited sacrifices, but at the same lime published an edict in the Kast, allowing universnTJ toleration. This edict, however, which certainly seemed inconsistent with the general tenor of his princijiles, could not prevent the rising; of a fanatical zeal for their peculiar tenets in the minds both of Christians aufl of heathens, which soon produced the most violent and irreconeilable animosities. Constantine, returning from his Asiatic expedition, alienated the minds of his Roman subjects by two extraoiflinarv aets of cruelty, the murdi-r of his son Crispns and his step-mother Fau^ta, upon li'.;hf siispieions of some inlamoiis connections having taken place between them. Many other indi- iJlO b.VIVERSAL HISTOrvV. [nooK V vidiials of rank wcro put to death on tlie evidence of informers, nnd on iIk- most vague and general suspicions. The cruelty ol the emperor became excessive. Rome cried out against him as b second Nero, and the populace openly insulted liim. Whether it was the disgust he conceived at this decided change in the minds of the Romans, or solely an ambitious and unsettled disposition which led to his design of altering the seat of empire, It is not easy to determine. He fixed his eyes, however, on By- zantium, to which he gave the name of Constantinople. He erected there the most superb structures, and in order to people iiis new city, he made a law by which no Asiatic should have the right of disposing of his estate by testament, unless he possessed a dwelling-house in Constantinople. Those, again, who resided there were gratified by a variety of alluring privileges; and by means of these he drew the poorer inhabitants from Rome, whilst the richer voluntarily followed the prince and his court. The grandees brought with them their slaves, and Rome in a few years became almost depopulated. Italy was also greatly exhausted of her inhabitants, and Constantinople swelled at once to the most overgrown dimensions. When the empire was thus divided, all riches naturally centered in the new capital. At this period, the German mines were unknown, those of Italy and Gaul were in- considerable, as were also those of Spain. Italy was now a waste of desolated gardens. It had no pecuniary supplies from commerce, and being still subjected to the same taxes as when it was the seat of empire, its miserable situation may be easily conceived. After thus w^eakening or rather annihilating the ancient capital of the empire, Constantine drew- off from the frontiers the legions which wyve stationed on the banks of the large rivers, and dis- tributed them into the provinces. This measure had two most per- nicious effects. It left the frontiers to the mercy of the barbarous nations, and enervated ihe troops by the effeminate pleasures of the great cities. Luxury, which, in all its different shapes, per- vaded even the extremities of the empire, reigned absolute in the centre. Constantine himself in every thing affected the Asiat'c splendor and ceremonial. He wore the diadem, and assumed a number of high-sounding, empty titles; his amusements were at once costlv and effeminate; his festivals and public spectacles most profusely luxurious. Towards the conclusion of his reign, the Goths, inaking another invasion, were repulsed and defeated, but by imprudently raising many of them to offices of dignity, he gave to these barbarians a kind of footing in the Roman emj)ire. Sapor n., king of Persia, having made an inroad upon Meso- potamia, Constantine marched against him. He repulsed the Per- sian troops, but after the victory fell sick at Nicomedia, and there died at the age of sixty-three, and in the thirtieth year of his reign. His character cannot easily be drawn with in)partiality. Talents and ibility in no common degree he certainly possessed Cil. III.] SYSTEM OF CONSTA.NTINE, ETC. 5] \ ■jut as 10 the other points of his ciiaracler, the iirofessed pictures of historians are so extremely contradictory, that neither Pagan ncr Christian writers deserve to be in any degree relied on. liy the one class he is held forth as a shining example of uinversal virtue; by the other he is represented as a Proteus in every variety of vice. "We may," says the Abbe Fleury, "form an impartial judgment of the character of this emperor, by believing all the faults ascribed to him by the Bishop Eusebius, and all the good spoken of him by Zosimus."* CHAPTER III. Chanjje in the System of Policy and Government inlrodtired by Constanlinr- Prclonan Preli-cls — I'roconsuls — Counts and Dukes — Taxes — Tree Gil\s — Seat of Empire translated to Constantinople — Division of tlie Kniuirt- — Julian — His artful Hostility to Christianity — Jovian — \'alentinian — Irrup- tions of the Goths — Of the Huns — Vaiens — Gratian — Tlieodosius— Valeuti- niau the Second. There were circumstances uliicli rendered the reign of Constan- tine a remarkable epoch in the history of ilie Roman empire; and, as it is of consequence that we siiould b(!come actiuainled with that new system of policy and government which at this lime was introduced, and which was so materially dillercnt from that con- stitution with which we have hitherto been acquaii.ted, a few ob- servations u|)on this subject may neither be impertinent nor unin- structive; more especially as they are connecieil with those inter- nal causes which were now silently mulermining the Roman power. The distinctions of personal merit, so conspicuous under the republican form of gc)vernment, were gradually weakening from the time that the imperial dignity arose, and now were almost totally obliterated. In their room was substituted a rigid st.burdi- nation of rank and oflice, which went through all the departmcnta of the stale. Every rank was fixed, its dignity was displayed in a variety of trifling ceremonies; and, as Mr. Gibbon has remark- ed, in his favorite metaphoric style, "At this time the system of the Roman government might, by a philosophic observer, have been mistaken for a sj)lendid theatre filled with players ol every Hist. Cccl., tome iii. p. 233. 512 u.vjv';;::,i'.i, ii;storv. [dook v characlor ami (Ifgron, who r.-poaiod llic language and imitated the nianiiers of tlie oiiipc^ror, their original niodel." The cpiihi't Illustrious, which hclonged only to the liighcst ranks of the stale, was confcircd upon four distinct classes of oHicers anrl magistrates: 1. The Consuls and Palricians; 2. The Pretoiian Prefects of Rome and Constantinople; 3. The Masters General of the Cavalry and Inl;intry; and 4. The Seven Ministers of the Palace who exercised their sacred functions about the person of the emperor. The ancient consuls were chosen by the suflragcs of the people, and, during the government of the first emperors, by the real or ai)parcnt suffrage of the senate; but from the reign of Diocletian, they were created by the sole authority of the emperor. A mag- nificent festival was held at their inauguration; and their names and portraits, on tables of ivory, were dispersed to all the provinces and cities of the empire; but they had not a shadow of power — they no longer presided in the councils of the state, nor executed the reso- lutions of peace or war; and their names served for nothing more than to give the legal date of the year. The ancient patrician families had been long since extinguished, and every dignity and distinction which arose from birth had been gradually obliterated, from the time that the offices of state had become common to the plebeians. The latter emperors preserved indeed the title of patricians, but it was now a personal and not an hereditary distinction. It was bestowed generally on their favorites as a title of honor, or upon ministers and magistrates who had grown old in office. The authority of the pretorian prefects was very different from such nominal and inefficient dignities. From the time that the pretorian bands were suppressed by Constantine, these haughty officers, who had been little less than the masters of the empire, were now reduced to the station of useful and obedient ministers. They had lost all military command; but they became the civil magistrates of the provinces. The empire was divided under four governors. The prefect of the East had a jurisdiction from the Nile to the banks of the river Phasis in Colchis, and from the mountains of Thrace to the frontiers of Persia. The prefect of Tllyrium, or lilyria, governed the provinces of Pannonia, Dacia, Macedonia, and Greece. The prefect of Italy superintended not only that country, but Rhastia, as far as the banks of the Danube, the Mediterranean islands, and the opposite coast of Africa. The prefect of the Gauls governed these provinces, and likewise Spain and Britain. These officers had the supreme administration of justice and of the finances. They watched over the conduct of the provincial magistrates, removed the negligent, and inflicted punishments on the guilty. An appeal was competent to them ffom all the inferior jurisdictions, and Constantine disallowed a::y appeal from their sentemx-s to himself. '15- III] SYSTEM OF COXSTANTINE 613 The cjtics of Rome and Constantinople were exempted from the authority of the pretorian prefects. Tliey had eacli their own i)refect, who was the supreme magistrate of liie city. Tiiey were presidents of the city, and all municipal authority was de- rived from them alone. They had the superintendence of the police, the care of the port, the aqueducts, the common sewers, the distribution of the public allowance of corn and provision. A perfect equality was established between these dii^uitiL's and iJie four pretorian prefects. buch were the magistrates who formed the first class in the state, which was termed Ilhistrcs. Inferior to these, were those magistrates who were termed Spectabilcs Such were the pro- oonsuls of Asia, Acliaia, and Africa, and the military Counts and Dukes ( Comiies and Daces) or generals of the Imperial armies. Tlie third class of the magistrates, inferior to the two former, had the denomination of Cldrisdmi. This class consisted of the governors of the provinces, who were entrusted, under the author ity of the prefects or their tieputies, with the administration of justice and the management of the finances in their respective districts. The supreme jurisdiction exercised by the j)retonan prefects over the armies of tlie empire was afterwards transferred to cigl:! Masters-General of the cavalry and infantry. Under their orders, thirty-five military commanders were stationed in the provinces. These were distinguished by the titles of Counts and Dukes, and they received each, besides their pay, an allowance suflicienl to maintain 190 servants, and IfjS horses. They iiad no concern in the administration of justice or of the revenue ; but they exercised a command over the troops independent of the authority of the magistrates. This necessarily created a divided interest, which relaxed tlie vigor of the state. The civil and the military magis- trates could have no good understanding, and a source of dissen- sion was thus established, which had the most pernicious conse- quences. Of the seven Ministers of the Palace, who wore likewise enti- tled to the rank of Illustrious, the first was the PrarpoituSy or Prefect of the Bedchamber, an eunuch whose duty was lo per- form aF. the menial services about the ernperor ; but whose office was at the same time esteemed so honorable as to rank Ijcfore the jiroconsuls of Greece or Asia — a strong mark of the corruption of manners. The second of the ministers entitled to the same rank was the Master of the Offices, who had the principal administra- tion of public affairs — a sort of Secretary of State, bavin; suljor dinate to him a great manv other secretaries, who had cac h their diflerent department. The third was the Quaistor. In soim? re- spects his office resembled that of a modern cliancellnr : he was the month of the emperor in pronouncing his edicts, an>l In* pre- pared the form and style of the imperial laws. The louith was vol.. I. 6.5 514 UMVEiisAL insTouT, [book, r llic CoimPof tlio Sacred Largesses, or the treasuitjr-gencral of the rcveiuii;, iiiulor uhoii) were twenty-nine provincial receivers. His jurisdiction extended over the mines, over the mint, and even over the public treasuries. He likewise directed all the linen and woollen manufactures. Linen, it must be observed, though not anciently in use among the Romans, had beconie a common wear for the women even in the time of the elder Pliny. The fifth inini;;ter of the palace was the Count or Treasurer of the Private Estate, whose oflice was to administer that revenue of the em- Eeror which arose from his domain or territorial property, which e had in most of the provinces, and from the confiscationr, and forfeitures. The sixth and seventh were the two Counts of the Domestics, who conmianded those bands of cavalry and infantry which guarded the emperor's person. The number of these troops amounted to 3,500 men. The intercourse between the court and provinces was maintain- ed by the construction of roads, and by the institution of Posts ; but these establishmenl.j paved the way for a most intolerable abuse. Some hundred agents, who were afterwards increased to some thousands, were employed, under the jurisdiction of the masters of the offices, to announce the names of the annual con- suls, and to report the edicts of the emperor through all the prov inces. These people were, in fact, nothing else but the spies of government — wlio w-ere encouiaged, by rewards, to communicate from time to time all sorts of intelligence from the remote corners of the empire to its chief seat ; to watch the progress of all trea- sonable designs, and discover such persons as they should find harboring any symptom of disaffection ; they were consequently the objects of terror and of consummate hatred : circumstances which prevented their employment from being ever accepted, unless by men of bad character and desperate fortune, who exer- cised without scruple the most unjust and insolent 0|)pression. Every institution was now calculated to support the fabric of despotism. The use of torture, from which, in the happier days of the Roman government, every one who enjoyed the }irivi eges of a citizen was exempted, began now to be employed without regard to this distinction ; in place of which a few special exemp- tions were granted by the emperor in favor of those of the rank of illustres, of bishops and professors of the liberal arts, soldiers, municipal officers, and children under the age of puberty ; but these exceptions sanctified the use of torture in all other cases. To these grievances may be added the oppressive taxes. The word indidion, which serves to ascertain the chronology of the middle ages, was derived from the practice of the emperor's sign ing with his own hand an edict prescribing the annual measure of the tribute to be levied, and the term allowed for payment of it The measure or quantity was ascertained by a census^ or survey, made by persons appointed for that purpose, through all the CII. HI.] SYSTEM or CONSTA.NTIN P.. 613 provinces, u !io measured the lands, took account of their nature, whether arable, pasture, wood, or vineyard, and made an esmnaie of their medium value, from an average produce of five years. The numbers of slaves and of cattle were likewise reported, and the proprie:ors were examined on their oath as to the true state of their alFiiirs. Part of the tribute specified by the indiciion was paid in money, and part in the produce of the lands; and so ex- orbitant were these taxes, that the husbandmen found it their interest to let their fields lie uncultivated, as the burdens increased in a greater proportion to the produce than their profits. Hence the agriculture of the Roman provinces was almost ruined, and pop'ilaiion, which keeps |)ace with plenty, graduajy diminished. But not only were the proprietors of land borne down by the weight of their taxes: the burden was eqiiaily severe on all classes of the citizens. Every branch of commercial industry paid its rated tribute. A.\\ the objects of merchandise, whether of home growth 31 of importaiion, ail the products of arts and manufactures, were higlily taxed; and as the tribute on land was made ellcctual by the seizure of personal property, that on personal properly was enforced by corporal punishments. The cruel treatment ol the insolvent debtors of the stale, which, under some of the former emperors, had reached the height of barbarity, was, however, inil- iga'ed by an edict of Consiantine, in wliicii he disclaims the use of racks and scourges for the i)unishment of debtors, and idiots a spacious prison for their confinement. To these supplies of the imperial revenue must be added those donations, called Free Gifts, from the several cities and provinces of the monarchy, which it was customary to bestow as often as the emperor announced his accession, his consulshi|), the birdi of a son, the creation of a Cssar, a victory over the bajl)ariatis, or any other event of great im|)ortance. These, which were now presents of money, came in place of the ancient ollerings of crowns of gold made by the cities of Italy to a victorious general. The free gift of the senate of Rome, upon such occasions as we havo mentioned, amounted to KiOO pounds weight of gol«l, (ai»oul jE(3i,0'JO sterling,) and the oilier cities of the empire, we may su|)pose, paid in proportion. But none of the institutions of Constantino were so fatal to tlie empire as those which he introduced into the military discipline. A distinction was established between the troops which were sta- tioned in the remote |)rovinces, and those which remained in the heart of the empire, the latter were termed Palatiius, by way of superiority, and enjoyed a much lii;:her pay, which enabled them, except in time of war, to indidge themselves in idleness, indolence, and every species of luxury. The former, Canned iht Bonlerers — who, in fact, had the care of the empire, and were exposed to perpetual dangers — had a very small allowance of pay, witJi the mortification of feeling themselves held of inferior 616 UNIVERSAL IUSTOHT. [liOOK V consi(ler;jlion, and thus were, In fact, noiliing clhc lliaii llie s'aves of a (Jes|)ot. Consianiine likewise, from the timid policy of secur- ing against mutinies and insurrections among the trooj)s — which were extremely formidable while the legion contained its ancient niimhcr of 5,000, G, 000, or even 8,000 or 9,000 men — reduced the number of men in the legion to 1,000 or to 1,500; so that each of tliese weakened bodies, awed by the sense of h^ own imbecility, could now attempt no conspiracy that was formidable. The whole body of the army was likewise debased by the intermixture of the barbarian nations, the Scythians, Goths, and Germans, who hence- forth bore a very great proportion in each of the legions. Such was the state of the Roman empire at the time of the tran lation of its seat from Rome to Constantinople. An author- ity, vigorously despotic, preserved, as yet, the union of this im- mense mass, which was laboring internally with the seeds of cor- ruption and dissolution. In the capital of the empire, the Roman name owed its chief lustre now to pomp and magnificence — a poor substitute for that real dignity, derived, in former times, from its heroic and patriotic virtues. Constantine, with a very destructive policy, had divided the empire among no less than five princes; three of them his sons, and two nephews. Constantius, the youngest and most ambitious of the sons, soon got rid of the nephews. They were massacred by the soldiers, along with many others of his relations, and sev- eral of the principal courtiers. The brothers quarrelled among themselves; the two elder, Constans and Constantinus, took up arms, and the latter falling in battle, Constans became sole master of the Western empire. This, however, he did not long enjoy, being soon after assassinated by Magnentius, a German. Cons'antius was now possessed of undivided legal authority, but had a formidable rival in Magnentius, whose party was much increased, for while the emperor indolently occupied himself in theological controversies, his best troops had sided with the usurper. Constantius made a dastardly offer of peace, which Magnentius rejected, and an engagement followed, which decided the fate of tlie empire. Constantius was successful, though he had not dared to take the field in person, but waited the event of the battle in a neighboring church. Magnentius took refuge in Gaul, where, being surrounded by the imperial legions, he, in a transport of de- spair, murdered his mother and several of his relations, and then stabbed himself with his own hand. Two nephews of Constantine had escaped that massacre of his kindred by which Constantius had secured to himself an undivi led empire : those were Gallus and Julian. The former, Constantius honored with the dignity of Cnrsar, and a[ipointed the city of An- tioch for his residence, where for a short time he ruled the eastern provinces with a violent and tyrannical authority. Constantius, governed at that time by the eunuch Euscbius, was persuaded A. D. 35.3.] ii;i.iAN. 5n that Gallui, by liis enormities, liad rciiJered I.miseir ciiiuorthv of the dignity to which lie had raised him. He sent an order for Galhis to repair to the imperial court, then at Milan, which that prince did not dare to disobey. He was instantly deprived of his guards, hurried to prison, and beheaded like the meanest male- factor. A variety of civil broils, mutinies of the troops against their generals, had weakened the force of the armies, and left the west- ern frontier to the mercy of the barbarians. The Franks, Saxons, and Aiemanni ravaged the Gauls, and destroyed forty-five cities on the banks of the Rhine. Pannonia and Muesia were laid waste by the Sarmatians, while the Persians made dreadful incursions upon the eastern empire. Constantius was wholly occupied with his religious controversies; but was fortunately j)revailed on by his empress lo take one measure most conducive to the general safety, which was lo confer on his cousin Julian the title and dig- nity of Ca?sar. This prince, bad he appeared in any other era than that in which two opposite religions were contending for pre-eminence, would have shone as a very illustrious character. He possessed many heroic qualities, and his mind was formed by nature to promote the greatness and the happiness of an empire. He had couipleted his studies at Constantinople and at Athens. In the latter city, the conversation of the Platonic philosophers had given him a strong distaste for the doctrines of Christianity, in which he had ^ecn educated; and wiiat, unfortunately riveted his avcr.-ion, was the example of his cousin, Constantius. Constantius named Julian C(csar at the age of twenty-three, and appointed him governor of Gaul; but with few troops, little money, and a very limited command; accountable to a set of veteran officers, whom the emperor appointed for his counsellors. Under all these disadvantages he soon showed distinguishec abilities. In the first year of his government he studied the art of war ai Vienna, applied himself with ardor lo the discipline of his troujis, and partook himself, with hi? soldiers, of every fatigue to which the meanest were subjected. Two imporlant objects were thus obtained — a well-regulated army, and a devotetl aireclion of lite lroo|)s to the person of their commander. With these advantages- he soon signalized his military tal.'uts. He drove the barliarians out of Gaid, and carried the li-rror of his arms bcyt)r)d the limits of the fronliiM'. Constantius, in his conclave of bi^bop';, arrogntcd to himself the honor of these vi( tories, and was employed in lir)!d- ing ecclesiastical councils, while Sapor, the Persian, with a for- midable army, broke in upon M(.'sopoiamia. Julian was now become an object of jealousy to him : with a view of disarming him, lie ordered him to send the best of his troops to Constanti- nople, to serve against the Persians; by which means so incon- 518 UMVLKSAI. IlIbTORY. [nOOK f sidoralilc a liantlful wonhJ icniaiii uiili ihclr ronimandcr, that tho barhaiiaiis, uiili ease and inipuiiiiy, could Ijavu regained what iliey had lost. Jidian prepared to obey, but tho army took an opposite measure; ihey proclaimed him emperor, and foi'ced him, apparently nnuil- ling, to accept the pini)le.* He still preserved the show of alle- giance, and wrote to Consianiiiis, informing him of the proceedings of the army, and of the impossibility of removing them frotn the province without their commander. Conslantius, with amazing folly, only repeated his orders in a more peremptory style; and Julian, congratulating himself that every scruple of honor was satisfied, openly shook of!" his submission, and took the field to mainiain his right to the empire. He marched with rapidity into Greece. Italy was his own, and every thing submitted to his arms. Coustanlius escaped the ignontiny that awaited him, by dying at this juncture of a fever in Cilicia. Julian was now acknowledged through the whole empire. He began his reign by the reformation of a variety of civil abuses in the diderent departments of the state, abolishing superfluous ofllces, and striking at the root of luxury by sumptuary laws. He now gave a loose to his hatred against Christianity, but attacked that religion by a policy far more pernicious than open persecution. He began by reforming the Pagan theology; and arilully attend- mg to tlie great difierence between th.at and the Christian religion, which, to the purest doctrines of faith, joined the most excellent system of morality, he endeavored to give Paganism that morality which it wanted, thence confessing the excellence of Christianity by adopting its sublimest precepts. He drew up himself a plan of conduct for the priests, recommending to them a purity of life and uncorru})ted integrily; thus to enforce by their examj;)le the doctrines which they sought to inculcate. f Certain modern • The rircumslnncps attending this event are extremely well painted by Mr Gihhon, Didiuemid Fall, eh. 22. i The 4!Hh, ()2d, and l>:]d I'pistles of Julian, and a separate fragment on the same subject, give a very strong picture of his zeal for pagan reformation. " The e.xercise of the sacred functions," says Julian. •' requiresan iumiaculate purity both of mind and hody ; and even when the piie>t is dismissed from the temple to the occupations of common life, it is incumbent on him to excel in decency and virtue ihe rest of his fellow citizens. He shotild never be seen in theatres or taverns. His conversation should be chaste, his diet temperate, his friends of honora!)le reputation. His studies should be suited to Ihe sanctity of liis profession. Licentious tales or comedies, or satires, mu^t be banished from his library, v»-hich ought sr)!ely to consist of historical and piiilosophical writings; of historv which is founded in truth, and of philosophy wliicli is connected with relirrion. The impious orations of the Epicureans and Skeptics deserve his ablmrn-nce and contempt; but he should diligenlly study the .systems of Pythagoras, of I'lato. and of the Stoics, which unanimously leach lluit there nre isods ; that the world is eoverned by thrir jirovidence ; that thvir jroodness is the source of every temi)orai blessing; and that Ikeij hare prepared for die human soul a future stale of reward or punishment " i. D. 362.] JULIAN. 519 writers, uiifriendlv to our religion, liave CiilargcJ, wi'.li iiv.icli apparent satisfaction, on the great clemency and rnotleraiion wliicli Julian showed in his treainienl of the Christians. — afl'eciing not to perceive that this seeming clemency and moderation wai the most artful and the most dangerous policy that could have then been employed a2;ainst them ; for let us observe how Julian conducted himself, lie forbade the persecution of the Christians, whom he represented as deluded men. the objects of compassion, not of punishment; but declared, at the same time, that tlicir frenzy incapacitated ihein from all employments, civil or military. Their law, he said, prohibited all quarrels and dissensions ; it was not, therefore, necessary that they should have the benefit of courts of justice to decide their dillcrences. He prohibited ihem from teaching or learning grammar, rhetoric, or philosophy. These, he said, were pagan sciences, treated of by authors whose princi- ples the Christians were tauglit to abhor, and whose l>oi)ks con- tained tenets which must shuck the pure morality of tht'ir religion. It is easy to perceive that this artful and insidious mode of attack was, in reality, much more destructive than the most sangtiinary persecution. This conduct of Julian would s?cm to argue a disposition at least entirely free from any tincture of superstition, and careless of all religion ; but, in fact, Julian was, as a pagan, blinded by tho most bigoted superstition. His bi^lief in omens was ridiculous ; his sacrifices were so numerous, that cattle were wanting to su[>ply him with victims.* The expense of these religious rites became burdensome to the state, and was universally complained of.f He was even accused of tlie horrid abomination of human sacrifices His cntiuisiasm and fanaiicism, acknowledged even by his greatest pane<:;yrists, "almost degrade him to the level of an R;;y|)tian ,„onk." — " Notwithstanding his own modest silencenpon the -sub- ject, (says Mr. Gibbon,) we may learn from his faithful friend, the orator Libauius, that he lived in h perpetual intercour.se with the gods and goddesses ; that they descended upon earth to enjoy the conversation of their favorite hero ; that they gently interrupted his slumbers by touching bis hand or his hair ; that diov warned biiii of any impending danger, and conducted him by their iiifalh- * Ammianus, tlioucrh a pair»n liimsi-lf, and an admir.T of the clwnclrr of JiiTian, jusUy censur's this put -f h'.-* r.-iidiirt :-• H.>«li irunHam.-n M.i^Mi.no pluriiiio aiaH crcbrilalo nimin pprfundrbal, la»ir.!« aliqii' tii-» imm..lan.l.. r,n. ten.«, ct innuincr.)s varii pi-ori-* irrcsjps, avosciiii" ciiidida'* Irrra qii !•••«.->• ri mari " \tid lie describes tlu- sMu-r* riolinij upon ill.- fl<-»h <.f thi- nacr.lici**, and daily -r.rTin.r llicinsflv.-H w.ili ill .sc daiiilirs and with .Iron? l-i-iir.. w that tiK-v wcri-'fr'nuontly carri.-d t.. tli.-ir n.) His moral fable, entitled ?/ie Citsars, is one of the most agreeable and in elructive productions of ancient wit. For an abstract of it. see Gibbon's De- cline and Fall, chap. '24. L. D. 363.] VAI.ENTINIA.V A.ND VALENS. 5?l been ceded by his grandfallicr to Galerlus ; and required, besides, several towns in Mesopotamia. It was absolutely necessary to grant these conditions, though the empire agreed to them with general dissatisfaction. Jovian, having thus secured a peace, applied himself with zeal to the liappiness of his subjects. He favored Christianity, and sought to heal the wounds which that religion had received from his predecessor. He showed, in the means which he adopted for ))romoting it, a policy equally artful with that of Julian for its de- struction. In a council which he assembled at Aniioch, he declar- ed his resolution that no man should be molested on account of his religious tenets. He recalled the banished Christians, ad- mitting them with the pagans, equally, to the exercise of all pub- lic employments ; these commencements promised a happy reign ; but the hopes of the empire were blasted as soon as they were formed, for Jovian died at the age of thirty-three, after a reign only of seven months.* The army then in Bithynia chose Valentinian for their empe- ror — a man of obscure birth, but of considerable military reputa- tion. He was illiterate, severe in his inanners, and excessively avaricious ; yet in other respects deserving of the throne. As soon as he was elected, he was urged to name a colleague. "You have elected me," said he, "your emperor; it is now my prov- ince to command, and it is yours to obey. I shall choose for my- self a colleague, whom I think proper, and when I judge expedi- ent." He afterwards named his brother Valens, to whom he gave the dominion of the East, reserving to himself the West. Valens had to oppose Sapor, who now attempted the conquest ot Armenia ; and Valentinian the barbarians, who poured down upon the western empire from every quarter. Previous, however, to any warlike expedition, Valentinian thought it necessary to estab- lish a good political arrangement at home. The clergy had for- merly been exempted from taxes, but Valentinian thought that, as the interest of the state was the concern of all its members, no order should be privileged. Though a Christian liimself, his zeai was subservient to policy. He interfered in no theological dis- putes, leaving these to be determined by the clergy ; and so far was he from persecuting the pagans, that he allowed them an un- limited toleration. These prudent measures prevented all reli- gious disturbances; and the Christian religion silently made greater progress than if it had been intemperately promoted by the ardor of a zealot. Valentinian now marched into Gaul, and repelled the .\lemanni •The nccounts of his doalB nrp various. Ammianiis wiyn, " lie wa« rwffn. caled in his sleep, eitlirr by the vapor of a nowly-plastcrfil room or Ihc tinok* of coals » or that he died of a surfeit." — Amraian. xxv. 10. VOL. I. 06 522 UNIVERSAL HISTORY. [bOOK V and oiher barbarous tribes, in a series of successful engagements. In these, liowever, the severity of his disposition was rigorously feh, and tiie Roman name was disgraced by many atrocious actions. ValctHinian gave peace to tlic Western empire ; but the East was (lislracled by the imprudent zeal of Valens, who, intempcrately promoting the cause of Arianism, invited a swarm of enemies upon the empire who, in the end, entirely subverted it. These were the Goihs, a people originally inhabiting the country of Scandi- navia, which the ancient authors have termed the nursery of the human race ; ojficxna humani generis. Montesquieu accounts for those prodigious inundations from the North, which argue an aston- ishing populousness of those countries which sent them out, by saying, " that the violence of the Romans had forced the peoples of the South to retire to the North," and that they now regorged upon the empire ;* but we know of no violences equal to the production of that effect, and the barbarians who invaded the empire retained no traces of a southern origin, but showed, m their manners, customs, and laws, a genius and character entirely their own and strongly distinct from that of the nations of the South. Some centuries before the Christian era, the Goths had emigrated from the North ; and some of their tribes, the Vandals, Heruli, and Lombards, had established themselves in Germany. In the second century, a vast body had fixed their residence on the banks of the Palus Ma^otis ; and had thence extended their conquests with great rapidity. Under the reign of Valens, they took possession of the province of Dacia, and were distinguished by the appellation of Ostrogoths and Visigoths, or Eastern and Western Goths — the first inhabiting the coasts of the Euxine Sea, and towards the mouth of the Danube ; the latter dwelling along the banks of that river. They were a remarkable people ; and their manners, laws, government, and customs are hi.s;hly deserv- ing of particular attention, as the great fountain from which the manners and policy of all the European nations are at this day derived. It will not, therefore, be impertinent to bestow some time m giving a particular view of this people, which I shall do when I have brought the Roman history to its period. Julian had despised these invaders, and the terror of his name had kept them quiet during h"s reign. Procopius, the cousm of Julian, had attempted to wrest the throne from Valens, and ob- tained for that purpose the assistance of the Goths ; but that em- peror engaged them with success and compelled them to repass the Danube. Valentinian, in the meantime, engaged with the Ale- manni in Germany, died upon that expedition, and was succeeded by Gratian, his eldest son, who was then in the sixteenth year of Mont. Grand, et Dccad., cliap. xvi CH, III.j THE HUNS, 623 his age. He had borne the title of Augiisius from his nimlj year, and his right to the empire was not disputed. Tiie army joined with him his brother, Valentinian II., an infant four years old. The yonth and inexperience of Gratian led him, in ilie bc-inning of his reign, to authorize some tyrannical and cruel acts, uliich ai>- j)eared contrary to his natural disijosition. Valens, in the mean time, in the East filled the empire with daily exam|)les of vice and tyranny. He was detested by his subjects, and consequently ex- posed to frequent conspiracies, which, in their punishment, gave fresli display to his sanguinary disjjosition. While the Eastern empire thus groaned under a vicious prnicc, a new race of barbarians came down from the North in a resistless torrent, which aftected almost every quarter of Europe. These were the Huns, a race of Tartars or Siberians — unknown till then by the European nations ; though they had long before that jieriod been the terror of the Chinese, who are suj)poscd to have built their famous wall to defend themselves from their invasions. The occasion of this irruption into Europe apj)ears to have been a civil war among themselves, in which the vanquished |)arty were driven to the South. The Goths, a comparatively civilized people, looked upon the Huns as monsters ; they fled before them. The Visigoths, who w^ere first attackeil, entreated the Romans to re- ceive them into their dominions. \'alens, who was no politician, was flattered by their request, and immediately i:ranted them a sei- den.cnt in Thrace. The Ostrogoths next ajipeared, and demanded khe same protection. Valens now began to fear the conse(iuences jf harboring such a multitude of strangers, and he refused their lemand ; but the frontiers of the empire being ill defended, the Ostrogoths, disregarding his refusal, jiassed forward without oppo- .-ition, and overpowered Thrace like a deluge. ^ alens hasiily con- oJudcd a oeace with Sapor, the Persian, to march lo the defence *i( that province ; but he had discharged the greati'st part of the old troops, trusting that these very invaders would be tlie defenco of the emigre. His army was raw and undisciplined ; Friiigern, king of the Goths, cut them to pieces in the battle of Adrianople, and Valens himself perished in the engagement. These noriherii straiigers were now unresisted. They ravaged Achaia and Pan- nonia ; the consideral)le towns alone holding out against them, and these only because they knew not the art of be>«ic;:;ing. Graiian, in this critical juncture, arriving at Conjiantinople, os- sinned Ti.eodosius, an able gcMieral, for his colleague in the em- pire, who was, ii) every sense, worthy of his dignity. To grejit courage and magnanimity Theodosius joined an honorable and vir- tuous disposition , though, as a Christian emperor, his rharacier has, of course, been acpersed by Pagan historians. He enacted many excellent laws. Ilio religious zeal perhaps transported him too far ; ceriainly some ol the laws which he Trametl against her- etics are rigorous in the extreme. (i rattan, his colleague, waj 524 UNIVERSAL HISTOny. BOOK V equally zealous, and yet more imprudent. He provoked the Pa- gans liy persecution and the destruction of tlir-ir temples, so that he became, from that cause alone, an object of hatred to the great- est part of his stibjects. Upon the death of Gratian, his infant son, Valentinian 11., suc- ceeded to the Western empire, which was, in the meantime, gov- erned by Theodosius as his guardian. This prince, who obtained and who deserved the epithet of great, ruled the empire for eigh- teen years with consummate ability. He was at first obliged to yield the government of Britain and the Gauls to the prefect ol Maxinnis, who had obtained the absolute command of the troops m those provinces, and confident of his powers, had demanded a share of the empire. .This concession emboldened Maximus to aiin at the sovereignty of the whole. He invaded Italy, and took possession of Rome, while the young Valentinian, with his mother Justina, fled for refuge to Thessalonica. But Theodosius marching against the usurper, defeated him in a decisive engagement in Pan- nonia, and allowed him to be massacred by the victorious troops Valentinian was thus restored to the sovereignty of the West by the arms of his guardian. But the young prince soon after fell a sacrifice to the treason of one of his generals, Arbogastes ; and Theodosius, defeating Arbogastes, remained sole emperor of the East and West. The character of this prince was worthy of the best ages of the Roman state. The wisdom of the laws of Theodosius ^.rocured him the esteem and afl^ection of his subjects ; the success of his arms kept in terror the surrounding barbarians. His domestic character was amiable and respectable, though sullied at times by an intemperance of passion which led him into some acts of inhu- manity, for which, in his cool moments, he suffered the keenest remorse. Under a series of princes like Theodosius, the Roman empire might have once more regained its ancient dignity and splendor ; but the weakness of its successors blasted all those pleasing expectations. The reign of Theodosius was the era of the downfall of the Pa- gan religion in the Roman empire, and the full establishment of Christianity. As this great revolution in human affairs is of the utmost importance, in far more than a mere political point of view, we shall consider it at some length in the succeeding chapter. END OF VOL. I. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 • Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed APR 1 6 2ni OCT OS 200 ( Fc U:nTVERSTTY of CALIFORNIA: AT LOS ANGELES 3f Californ .n Regional ary Facility ^ .2 : rl ^" CO S ; 03 2 •' •^ CO