Dr. Goldsmith's Roman history abridged by himself for the use of schools — Roman history.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- ADVERTISEMENT.

- [bythesameauthor]

- PREFACE To the OCTAVO EDITION of DR. GOLDSMITH's ROMAN HISTORY.

- CHAPTER I. Of the original of the Romans.

- CHAP. II. From the building of Rome to the death of Romulus.

- CHAP. III. From the death of Romulus to the death of Numa Pompilus, the second king of Rome.

- CHAP. IV. From the death of Numa to the death of Tullus Hostilius, the third king of Rome.

- CHAP. V. From the death of Tullus Hostilius, to the death of Ancus Martius, the fourth king of Rome.

- CHAP. VI. From the death of Ancus Martius to the death of Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth king of Rome.

- CHAP. VII. From the death of Tarquinius Priscus to the death of Servius Tullius, the sixth king of Rome.

- CHAP. VIII. From the death of Servius Tullius to the banishment of Tarquinius Superbus, the seventh and last king of Rome.

- CHAP. IX. From the banishment of Tarquin to the appointment of the first dictator.

- CHAP. X. From the creation of the first dictator, to the election of the tribunes of the people.

- CHAP. XI. From the creation of the tribunes to the appointment of the decemviri.

- CHAP. XII. From the creation of the Decemviri to the extinction of that office.

- CHAP. XIII. From the wars of the Samnites and the wars with Pyrrhus, to the beginning of the first Punic war, when the Romans first went out of Italy.

- CHAP. XIV. From the beginning of the first Punic war to the be ginning of the second, when the Romans began to grow powerful by sea.

- CHAP. XV. From the end of the first Punic war to the end of the second.

- CHAP. XVI. From the end of the second Punic war to the end of the third, which terminated in the destruction of Carthage.

- CHAP. XVII. From the destruction of Carthage to the end of the sedition of the Gracchi.

- CHAP. XVIII. From the sedition of Gracchus to the perpetual dic¦tatorship of Sylla, which was the first step toward the ruin of the commonwealth of Rome.

- CHAP. XIX. From the Perpetual Dictatorship of Sylla to the Tri umvirate of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus.

- CHAP. XX. From the beginning of the first Triumvirate to the death of Pompey.

- CHAP. XXI. From the destruction of the Commonwealth to the establishment of the first emperor Augustus.

- CHAP. XXII. From the beginning of the reign of Augustus, to the death of Domitian, the last of the twelve Caesars.

- CHAP. XXIII. The five good Emperors of Rome.

- CHAP. XXIV. From Commodus to the transferring the seat of the empire under Constantine from Rome to By illegible ntium.

- CHAP. XXV. Of the destruction of the ROMAN EMPIRE, after the death of Constantine, and the events which has tened its catastrophe.

THE HISTORY OF THE Commonwealth of Rome.

FINIS.

DR. GOLDSMITH's ROMAN HISTORY ABRIDGED by HIMSELF For the USE of SCHOOLS.

LONDON, Printed for S. BAKER and G. LEIGH, in York-Street; T. DAVIES, in Russel-Street, Covent-Garden; and L. DAVIS, in Holborn. MDCCLXXII.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE present Abridgement was suggested by the Heads of some of our principal Schools. It was thought, that the substance of the Roman History, thrown into easy narrative, would excite the curiosity of Youth much more agreeably than in the common dry mode of Question and Answer; calculated to turn into task a species of instruction meant certainly for entertainment.

Lately Published, THE ROMAN HISTORY, From the FOUNDATION of the CITY OF ROME, To the DESTRUCTION of the WESTERN EMPIRE. BY DR. GOLDSMITH. In TWO VOLUMES, 8vo. Price 12s.

PREFACE To the OCTAVO EDITION of DR. GOLDSMITH's ROMAN HISTORY.

"THERE are some subjects on which a writer must decline all attempts to acquire fame, satisfied with being obscurely useful. After such a number of Roman Histories, in all languages, ancient and modern, it would be but imposture to pretend new discoveries, or to expect to offer any thing in a work of this kind, which has not been often anticipated by others. The facts which it relates have been an hundred times repeated, and ever occurrence has been so variously considered, that learning can scarely find a new anecdote, or genius give novelty to the old.

"I HOPE, therefore, for the reader's indulgence, if in the following attempt it shall appear, that my only aim was to supply a concise, plain, and unaffected narrative of the rise and decline of a well known empire; I was contented to make such a book, as could not fail of being serviceable, though, of all others, the most unlikely to promote the reputation of the writer. Instead, therefore, of pressing forward among the ambitious, I only claim the merit of knowing my own strength, and falling back among the hindmost ranks, with conscious inferiority.

"I AM not ignorant, however, that it would be no such difficult task to pursue the same arts by which many dull men, every day, acquire a reputation in history; such might easily be attained, by fixing on some obscure period to write upon, where much seeming erudition might be displayed, almost unknown, because not worth remembering; and many maxims in politics might be advanced entirely new, because altogether false. But I have pursued a contrary method, chusing the most noted periods in history, and offering no remarks but such as I thought strictly true.

"THE reasons of my choice were, that we had no history of this splendid period in our language, but what was either too voluminous for common use, or too meanly written to please. Catrou and Rouille's History, in six volumes folio, translated into our language by Bundy, is entirely unsuited to the time and expence mankind usually chuse to bestow upon this subject: Rollin, and his continuator, Crevier, making above thirty volumes octavo, seem to labour under the same imputation; as likewise Hooke, who has spent three quartos upon the republic alone; the rest or his undertaking remaining unfinished[*]. There only, therefore, remained the History by Echard, in five volumes octavo, whose plan and mine seemed to coincide; and had his execution been equal to his design, it had precluded the present undertaking. But the truth is, it is so poorly written, the facts so crowded, the narration so spiritless, and the characters so indistinctly marked, that the most ardent curiosity must cool in the perusal; and the noblest transactions that ever warmed the human heart, as described by him, must cease to interest.

"I HAVE endeavoured, therefore, in the present work (or rather compilation) to obviate the inconveniencies arising from the exuberance of the former, as well as from the unpleasantness of the latter. Too much time may be given even to laudable pursuits, and there is none more apt than this, to allure the student from more necessary branches of learning, and, if I may so express it, entirely to engross his industry. What is here offered, therefore, may be suffi•ient for all but such as make history the peculiar business of their lives; to such, the most tedious narrative will seem but an abridgement, as they measure the merits of a work, rather by the quantity, than the quality, of its contents. Others, however, who think more soberly, will agree, that in so extensive a field as that of the transactions of Rome, more judgment may be shewn, by selecting what is important, than by adding what is obscure. The history of this empire has been extended to six volumes folio; and I aver, that, with very little learning, it might be encreased to sixteen more; but what would this be, but to load the subject with unimportant facts, and so to weaken the narration, that, like the empire it described, it must necessarily sink beneath the weight of its own acquisitions!

"BUT while I thus have endeavoured to avoid prolixity, it was found no easy matter to prevent crowding the facts, and to give every narrative its proper play In reality, no art can contrive to avoid opposite defects; he who indulges in minute particularities, will be often languid; and he who studies conciseness, will as frequently be dry and unentertaining. As it was my aim to comprize as much as possible in the smallest compass, it is feared the work will often be subject to the latter imputation; but it was impossible to furnish the public with a cheap Roman history, and at the same time to give all that warmth to the narrative, all those colourings to the description, which works of twenty times the bulk have room to exhibit. I shall be fully satisfied, therefore, if it furnishes an interest sufficient to allure the reader to the end; and this is a claim to which few abridgements can justly make pretensions.

"To these objections, there are some who may add, that I have rejected many of the modern improvements in Roman history, and that every character is left in full possession of that fame or infamy which it obtained from its cotemporaries, or those who wrote immediately after. I acknowledge the charge, for it appears now too late to rejudge the virtues or the vices of those men, who were but very incompletely known even to their own historians. The Romans, perhaps, upon many occasions, formed wrong ideas of virtue; but they were by no means so ignorant or abandoned in general, as not to give their brightest characters the greatest share of their applause; and I do not know whether it be fair, to try pagan actions by the standard of Christian morality.

"BUT, whatever may be my execution of this work, I have very little doubts about the success of the undertaking; the subject is the noblest that ever employed human attention; and instead of requiring a writer's aid, wi•l even support him with its splendor. The empire of the world rising from the meanest origin, and growing great by a strict veneration for religion, and an implicit confidence in its commanders; continually changing the mode, but seldom the spirit of its government; being a constitution, in which the military power, whether under the name of citizens or soldiers, almost always prevailed; adopting all the improvements of other nations with the most indefatigable industry, and submitting to be taught by those whom it afterwards subdued: this is a picture that must affect us, however it be disposed; these materials must have their value, under the hand of the meanest workman."

Notes

*
A fourth volume has been since published.
↵

CHAPTER I. Of the original of the Romans.

THE Romans were particularly desirous of being thought descended from the gods, as if to hide the meanness of their real ancestry. Aeneas, the son of Venus and Anchises, having escaped from the destruction of Troy, after many adventures and dangers, arrived in Italy where he was kindly received by Latinus, king of the Latins, who gave him his daughter Lavinia in marriage. Turnus, king of the Rutuli, was the first who opposed Aeneas, he having long made pretensions to Lavinia himself. A war ensued, in which the Trojan hero was victorious and Turnus slain. In consequence of this, Aeneas built a city, which was called Lavinium, in honour of his wife; and some time after, engaging in another war against Mezentius, one of the petty kings of the country, he was vanquished in turn, and died in battle, after a reign of four years.

Numitor, the fifteenth king in a direct line from Aeneas, who took possession of the kingdom in consequence of his father's will, had a brother, named Amulius, to whom were left the treasures which had been brought from Troy. As riches but too generally prevail against right, Amu•ius made use of his wealth to supplant his brother, and soon found means to possess himself of the kingdom. Not content with the crime of usurpation, he added that of murder also. Numitor's sons first fell a sacrifice to his suspicions; and to remove all apprehensions of being one day disturbed in is ill got power, he caused Rhea Silvia, his brother's only daughter, to become a vestal virgin; which office obliging her to perpetual celibacy, made him less uneasy as to the claims of posterity.

His precautions, however, were all frustrated in the event; for Rhea Sylvia going to fetch water from a neighbouring grove, was met and ravished by a man, whom, perhaps to palliate her offence, she averred to be Mars, the god of war. From this congress, she was brought to bed of two boys, who were no sooner born, than devoted, by the usurper to destruction. The mother was condemned to be buried alive, the usual punishment for vestals who had violated their chastity, and the twins were ordered to be flung into the river Tyber. It happened, at the time this rigorous sentence was put into execution, that the river had more than usually overflowed its banks, so that the place where the children were thrown being at a distance from the main cur •ent, the water was too shallow to drown them. In this situation, therefore, they continued without harm and, that no part of their preservation might want its wonders, we are told, that they were for some time suckled by a wolf, until Faustulus, the king's herdsman, finding them thus ex•osed, brought them home to Acca Laurentia, his wife, who brought them up as his own.

Romulus and Remus, the twins thus strangely preserved, seemed early to discover abilities and desires above the meanness of their supposed original. The shepherd's life began to displease them; and, from tending flocks, or hunting wild beasts, they soon turned their strength against the robbers round the country, whom they often stript of their plunder, to share it among their fellow shepherds. In one of these excursions, Remus was taken prisoner by Nu •••tor's herdsman, who brought him before the king, 〈◊〉 accused of being a plunderer. Romulus, how ••er, being informed by Faustulus of his real birth, 〈◊〉 not remiss in assembling a number of his fellow 〈◊〉, who beset the usurper on all sides, who, dur•ng his amazement and distraction, was taken and 〈◊〉 while Numitor, who had been deposed forty ••ve• •ts, recognized his grandsons, and was once 〈◊〉 rest ••ed to the throne.

Numitor being thus in quiet possession of the •••gdom, his grandsons resolved to build a city upon ••se hills where they had formerly lived as shep •er••. Many of the neighbouring shepherds also, t• such as were fond of change, repaired to the in •••led city, and prepared to raise it. In order to pro ••ct in this undertaking with all possible solemnity ••e two brothers were advised by the king, to take 〈◊〉 •••en from the slight of birds, and that he whose •a••n should be most favourable, should in all re ••ects direct the other. In compliance with this advice, they both took their stations upon different h•••s. To Remus appeared six vultures; to Romulus, twice that number: so that each party thought itself victorious; the one having the first omen, the other the most complete. This produced a contest, which ended in a battle wherein Remus was slain; and it is even said, that he was killed by his brother; who, being provoked at his leaping contemptuously over the city wall, struck him dead upon the spot.

Romulus, being now sole commander, and eighteen years of age, began the foundation of a city that was one day to give laws to the world. It was called Rome, after the name of the sounder, and built upon the Palatine hill, on which he had taken his successful omen The city was at first almost square, containing about a thousand houses. It was near a mile in compass, and commanded a small territory round it of about eight miles ever. However small as it appears, it was, notwithstanding, worse inhabited; and the first method made use of to increase its numbers, was the opening a sanctuary for all malefactors, slaves, and such as were desirous of novelty, and these came in great multitudes, and contributed to increase the number of our legislator's new subjects.

CHAP. II. From the building of Rome to the death of Romulus.

SCARCE was the city raised above its foundation, when its rude inhabitants began to think of giving some form to their constifution. Romulus, by an act of great generosity, left them at liberty to chuse whom they would for their king; and they, in gratitude, concurred to elect their founder; he was accordingly acknowledged as chief of their religion, sovereign magistrate of Rome, and general of the army. Beside a guard to attend his person, it was agreed that he should be precede wherever he went by twelve men, armed with axes tied up in a bundle of rods, who were to serve as executioners of the law, and to impress his new subjects with an idea of his authority.

The senate, which was to act as counsellors to the king, was composed of an hundred of the principal citizens of Rome, consisting of men whose age, wisdom, or valour, gave them a natural authority over their fellow-subjects, and the king named the first senator, and appointed him to the government of the city, whenever war required his own absence.

The plebeians, who composed the third part of the legislature, assumed to themselves the power of authorizing those laws which were passed by the king or the senate. All things relative to peace or war, to the election of magistrates, and even to the •••sing a king, were confirmed by suffrages in their assemblies.

The first care of the new-created king, was to attend to the interests of religion, but the precise form of their worship is unknown. The greatest part of the religion of that age consisted in a firm reliance upon the credit of their soothsayers, who pretended, from observations on the flight of birds and the entrails of beasts, to direct the present, and to dive into futurity. Romulus, by an express law, o•• •ended, that no election should be made, no enterprize undertaken, without first consulting them.

Wives were forbid, upon any pretext whatsoever, to separate from their husbands; while, on the contrary, the husband was empowered to repudiate the wi•e, and even in some cases to put her to death. His laws between children and their parents were yet still more severe; the father had entire power over his offspring, both of fortune and life; he could se•• them or imprison them at any time of their lives, or in any stations to which they were arrived.

After his endeavours by laws to regulate his subjects, he next gave orders to ascertain their numbers. The whole amounted but to three thousand foot, and about as many hundred horsemen, capable of bearing arms. These therefore were divided equally into three tribes, and to each he assigned a different part of the city. Each of these tribes were subdivided into ten curiae, or companies, consisting of an hundred men each, with a centurion to command it; a priest, called curio, to perform the sacrifices; and two of the principle inhabitants, called duumviri, to distribute justice.

By these wise regulations each day added strength to the new city; multitudes flocked in from all the adjacent towns, and it only seemed to want women to ascertain its duration. In this exigence, Romulus, by the advice of the senate, sent deputies among the Sabines his neighbours, entreating their alliance, and upon these terms offering to cement the most strict confederacy with them. The Sabines, who were then considered as the most warlike people of Italy, rejected the proposal with disdain; Romulus therefore proclaimed a feast in honour of Neptune, throughout all the neighbouring villages, and made the most magnificent preparations for it. These feasts were generally preceded by sacrifices, and ended in shews of wrestlers, gladiators, and chariot-courses. The Sabines, as he had expected, were among the foremost who came to be spectators, bringing their wives and daughters with them to share the pleasure of the sight. In the mean time the games began, and, while the strangers were most intent upon the spectacle, a number of the Roman youth rushed in among them with drawn swords, seized the youngest and most beautiful women, and carried them off by violence. In vain the parents protested against this breach of hospitality; in vain the virgins themselves at first opposed the attempts of their ravishers; perseverance and caresses obtained those favours which timidity at first denied; so that the betrayers, from being objects of aversion, soon became the partners of their dearest affections.

A bloody war ensued. The cities of Cenina, Antemna and Crustumium were the first who resolved to revenge the common cause, which the Sabines seemed too dilatory in pursuing. But all these, by making separate inroads, became a more easy conquest to Romulus, who made the most merciful use of his victory; instead of destroying their towns, or lessening their numbers, he only placed colonies of Romans in them, to serve as a frontier to repress more distant invasions.

Tatius, king of Cures, a Sabine city, was the last, although the most formidable, who undertook to revenge the disgrace his country had suffered. He entered the Roman territories at the head of twentyfive thousand men, and, not content with a superiority of forces, he added stratagem also. Tarpiea, who was daughter to the commander of the Capitol•ne hill, happened to fall into his hands, as she went without the walls of the city to fetch water. Upon her he prevailed, by means of large promises, to betray one of the gates to his army. The reward she engaged for, was what the soldiers wore on their arms, by which she meant their bracelets. They, however, either mistaking her meaning, or willing to punish her persidy, threw their bucklers upon her as they entered, and crushed her to death. The S•bine, being thus possessed of the Capitoline, after s•me time, a general engagement ensued, which w•s renewed for several days, with almost equal suc ••ss, and neither could think of submitting: it was 〈◊〉 the valley between the Capitoline and Quirinal 〈◊〉, that the last engagement was fought between 〈◊〉 Romans and the Sabines. The engagement was n•w become general, and the slaughter prodigious, when the attention of both sides was suddenly turned from the scence of horror before them to another; till at length the Sabine women who had been carried off by the Romans, with their hair loose and their ornaments neglected, flew in between the combatants regardless of their own danger, and with loud outcries implored their husbands and their children to desist. Upon this, the combatants, as if by mutual impulse, let fall their weapons, an accommodation ensued, by which it was agreed, that Romulus and Tatius should reign jointly in Rome, with equal power and prerogative, that an hundred Sabines should be admitted into the senate, that the city should still retain its former name, but that the citizens should be called Quirites, after Cures, the principal town of the Sabines, and that both nations being thus united, such of the Sabines as chose it, should be admitted to live in and enjoy all the privileges of citizens in Rome. Tatius was killed about five years after by the Lavinians for having protected some servants of his, who had plundered them and slain their ambassadors; so that by this accident Romulus once more saw himself sole monarch of Rome.

Successes like these produced an equal share of pride in the conqueror. From being contented with those limits which had been wisely assigned to his power, he began to affect absolute sway, and to govern those laws, to which he had himself formerly professed implicit obedience. The senate was particularly displeased at his conduct, as they found themselves only used as instruments to ratify the rigour of his commands. We are not told the precise manner which they employed to get rid of the tyrant; some say that he was torn in pieces in the senate-house; others, that he disappeared while reviewing his army: certain it is, that from the secrecy of the fact, and the concealment of the body, they took occasion 〈◊〉 persuade the multitude, that he was taken up into heaven: thus him whom they could not bear as a king, they were contented to worship as a god. Romulus reigned thirty-seven years, and after his death had a temple built to him under the name of Quirinius.

CHAP. III. From the death of Romulus to the death of Numa Pompilus, the second king of Rome.

UPON the death of Romulus, the city seemed g•eatly divided in the choice of a successor. The Sabines were for having a king chosen from their 〈◊〉, but the Romans could not bear the thoughts of ••••ncing a stranger to the throne. In this perplexity the senators undertook to supply the place of the king, by taking the government, each of them in 〈◊〉 for five days, and during that time enjoying 〈◊〉 the honours and all the privileges of royalty. This new form of government continued for a year, ••t the plebians, who saw that this method of transf•••ing power was only multiplying their masters, 〈◊〉 a•d upon altering that mode of government. T•• senate being thus driven to an election, at length 〈◊〉 upon Numa Pompilius, a Sabine, and their 〈◊〉 was received with universal approbation by the 〈◊〉

〈◊〉 Pompilius, who was now about forty, had 〈…〉 eminent for his piety, his justice, mode •• 〈◊〉 ••d exemplary life. He was skilled in all 〈…〉 and p•ilosophy of the Sabines, and liv ••• 〈…〉 •t C••es, contented with a private 〈◊〉 unambiti•us of higher honours. It was not, 〈◊〉, without reluctance that he accepted the 〈◊〉, wh•ch when he did, it produced such joy, 〈◊〉 people seemed not so much to receive a king 〈…〉.

No monarch could be more proper for them than Numa, at a conjuncture when the government was composed of various petty states lately subdued, and but ill united among each other: they wanted a master who could by his laws and precepts soften their fierce dispositions, and by his example induce them to a love of religion, and every milder virtue.

Numa's whole time therefore was spent in inspiring his subjects with a love of piety, and a veneration for the gods. He built many new temples, instituted sacred offices and feasts; and the sanctity of his life gave him credit enough to persuade his people, that he had a particular correspondence with the goddess Egeria. By her advice he built the temple of Janus, which was to be shut in time of peace, and open in war; he ordained vestal virgins, who, being four in number, had very great privileges allowed them.

For the encouragement of agriculture, he divided those lands which Romulus had gained in war, among the poorer part of the people; he regulated the kalendar, and abolished the distinction between Romans and Sabines, by dividing the people according to their several trades, and compelling them to live together. Thus having arrived at the age of fourscore years, and having reigned forty-three in profound peace, he died, ordering his body to be buried in a stone coffin, contrary to the custom of the times, and his books of ceremonies, which consisted of twelve in Latin, and as many in Greek, to be buried by his side in another.

CHAP. IV. From the death of Numa to the death of Tullus Hostilius, the third king of Rome.

UPON the death of Numa, the government once more devolved upon the senate, and continued till the people elected Tullus Hostilius for their king, which choice had also the concurrence of the other part of the constitution. This monarch, who was grandson to a noble Roman, who had formerly signalized himself against the Sabines, was every way unl•ke his predecessor, being intirely devoted to war, and more fond of enterprize than even the founder of the empire himself had been; so that he only sought a pretext for leading his forces into the field.

The Albans were the first people who gave him an opportunity of indulging his favourite inclinations. The forces of these two states met about five miles from R•me, prepared to decide the fate of their respective ••ngdoms: for almost every battle in these times was •••isive. The two armies were for some time drawn o•t in array, awaiting the signal to begin, both chiding 〈◊〉 length of that dreadful suspense, when an unexpected proposal from the Alban general put a 〈◊〉 the onset. Stepping in between both armies, 〈◊〉 •ffered the Romans a choice of deciding the dispute by single combat; adding, that the side whose •••mpion was overcome, should submit to the con ••e••r. A proposal like this suited the impetuous •••per of the Roman King, and was embraced with 〈◊〉 his subjects, each of which hoped, that he 〈◊〉 should be chosen to fight the cause of his •••ntry. The•e were at that time three twin brothers in each army, those of the Romans were called 〈◊〉 and those of the Albans Curiatii, all six remarkable for their courage, strength, and activity, and to these it was resolved to commit the management of the combat. At length the champions met in combat together, and each totally regardless of his own safety, only sought the destruction of his opponent. The spectators, in horrid silence, trembled at every blow, and wished to share the danger, till fortune seemed to decide the glory of the field. Victory, that had hitherto been doubtful, appeared to declare against the Romans; they beheld two of their champions lying dead upon the plain, and the three Curiatii, who were wounded, slowly endeavouring to pursue the survivor, who seemed by flight to beg for mercy. Soon however they perceived, that his flight was only pretended, in order to separate his antagonists, whom he was unable to oppose united; for quickly after, stopping his course, and turning upon him who followed most closely behind, he laid him dead at his feet▪ the second brother, who came on to assist him who was fallen, only shared the same fate; and now there remained but the last Curiatius to conquer, who, fatigued and quite disabled with his wounds, slowly came up to offer an easy victory. He was killed, almost unresisting, while the conqueror exclaiming, offered him as a victim to the superiority of the Romans, whom now the Albany army consented to obey.

But none of the virtues of that age were without alloy, the very hand that in the morning was exerted to save his country, was before night embrued in the blood of a sister. For returning triumphant from the f•eld, it raised his indignation to behold her bathed in tears, and lamenting the loss of her lover, one of the Curiatii, to whom she was betrothed. This provoked him beyond the power of sufferance, so that he flew her in a rage. This action greatly displeased the senate, and drew on the condemnation of the magistrates, but he was pardoned by making his appeal to the people.

Hostilius died after a reign of thirty-two years; some say by lightning, others, with more probability, by treason.

CHAP. V. From the death of Tullus Hostilius, to the death of Ancus Martius, the fourth king of Rome.

AFTER an interregnum, as in the former case, Ancus Martius, the grandson of Numa, was elected king by the people, and the choice afterwards was confirmed by the senate. As this monarch was a lineal descendant from Numa, so he seemed to make him the great object of his imitation. He instituted the sacred ceremonies which were to precede a declaration of war; he took every occasion to advise his subjects to return to the arts of agriculture, and to lay aside the less useful stratagems of war.

These institutions and precepts were considered by the neighbouring powers rather as marks of cowardice than of wisdom. The Latins therefore began to make incursions upon his territories, but their success was equal to their justice: Ancus conquered the Latins, destroyed their cities, removed their inhabitants to Rome, and encreased his territories by the addition of part of theirs. He quelled also an insurrection of the Veii, the Fidenates, and the Vols••, and over the Sabines he obtained a second triumph.

But his victories over the enemy were by no means comparable to his works at home, in raising temples, f••tifying the city, making a prison for malefactors, and building a sea port at the mouth of the Tiber, called Ostia, by which he secured to his subjects the trade of that river, and that of the salt pits adjacent. Thus having enriched his subjects, and beautified the city, he died after a reign of twenty-four years.

CHAP. VI. From the death of Ancus Martius to the death of Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth king of Rome.

LUCIUS Tarquinius Priscus, whose original name was Lucumon, and who was appointed guardian to the sons of the late king, took the surname of Tarquinius, from the city of Tarquinia, from whence he last came. His father was a merchant of Corinth, who had acquired considerable wealth by trade, and had settled in Italy upon account of some troubles at home. His son Lucumon, who inherited his fortune, married a woman of family in the city of Tarquinia; and, as his birth, profession, and country were contemptible to the nobles of the place, by his wife's persuasions he came to settle at Rome, where merit only made distinction. On his way thither, say the historians, as he approached the city gate, an eagle, stooping from above, took off his hat, and flying round his chariot for some time, with much noise, put it on again. This, his wife Tanaquil, who it seems was skilled in augury, interpreted as a presage, that he should one day wear the crown, and perhaps it was this which first fired his ambition to pursue it.

Ancus being dead, and the kingdom, as usual, devolving upon the senate, Tarquin used all his power and arts to set aside the children of the late king, and to get himself elected in their stead. For this purpose, upon the day appointed for election, he contrived to have them sent out of the city; and in a set speech to the people, in which he urged his friendship for them, the fortune he had spent among them, and his knowledge of their government, he offered himself for their king. As there was nothing in this harangue that could be contested, it had the desired effect, and the people, with one consent, elected him as their sovereign.

A kingdom thus got by intrigue, was notwithstanding governed with equity. In the beginning of his reign, in order to recompence his friends, he added an hundred members more to the senate, which made them, in all, three hundred.

But his peaceful endeavours were soon interrupted by the inroads of his restless neighbours, particularly the Latins, over whom he triumphed, and whom he forced to beg a peace. He then turned his arms against the Sabines, who had risen once more, and had passed over the river Tyber; but Tarquin attacking them with vigour routed their army; so that many who escaped the sword, were drowned in attempting to cross over, while their bodies and armour floating down to Rome, brought news of the victory, even before the messengers could arrive that were sent with the tidings. These conquests were follower by several advantages over the Latins, from whom he took many towns, though without gaining any decisive victory.

Tarquin, having thus forced his enemies into submission, was resolved not to let his subjects corrupt in indolence, but undertook and perfected several public works for the convenience and embellishment of the city.

In his time also, the augurs came into a great increase of reputation, and he found it his interest to promote the superstition of the peple, as this was in fact but to increase their obedience. Tanaquil, his wife, was a great pretender to this art; but Accius Naevius was the most celebrated adept of the kind, that was ever known in Rome. Upon a certain occasion, Tarquin being resolved to try the augur's skill, asked him, whether what he was then pondering in his mind could be effected. Naevius having examined his auguries, bold affirmed that it might: "Why then," cries the king, with an insulting smile, "I had thoughts of cutting this whetstone with a razor." "Cut boldly," replied the augur; and the king cut it through accordingly. Thence forward nothing was undertaken in Rome without consulting the augurs, and obtaining their advice and approbation.

Tarquin was not content with a kingdom without also the ensigns of royalty; in imitation of the Lydian kings, he assumed a crown of gold, an ivory throne, a sceptre with an eagle on the top, and robes of purple. It was, perhaps, the splendor of these royalties that first raised the envy of the late king's sons, who had now for above thirty-seven years quietly submitted to his government. His design also of adopting Servius Tullius, his son-in-law, for his successor, might have contributed to inflame their resentment. Whatever was the cause of their tardy vengeance, they resolved to destroy him; and at last found means to effect their purpose, by hiring two ruffians, who, demanding to speak with the king, pretending that they came for justice, struck him dead in his palace with the blow of an ax. The lictors, however, who waited upon the person of the king, seized the murderers, who were attempting to escape; they were put to death; but the sons of Ancus, who were the instigators, found safety by flight.

Thus fell Lucius Tarquinius, surnamed Priscus, to distinguish him from one of his successors of the same name, aged fifty-six years, of which he had reigned thirty-eight.

CHAP. VII. From the death of Tarquinius Priscus to the death of Servius Tullius, the sixth king of Rome.

THE report of the murder of Tarquin filled 〈◊〉 his subjects with complaint and indignation, while the citizens ran from every quarter to the palace, to learn the truth of the account, or to take vengeance on the assassins. In this tumult, Tanaquil, widow of the late king, considering the danger she must incur, in case the conspirators should succeed to the crown; and desirous of having her son-in-law for his successor, with great art dissembled her sorrow as well as the king's death. She assured the people, from one of the windows of the palace, that he was not killed, but stunned by the blow; that he would shortly recover; and that, in the mean time, he had deputed his power to Servius Tullius, his son-in-law. Servius, accordingly, as it had been agreed upon between them, issued from the palace, adorned with the ensigns of royalty, and preceded by his lictors, and went to dispatch some affairs that related to the public safety; still pretending, that he took all his instructions from the king. This scene of dissimulation continued for some days, till he had made his party good among the nobles; when the death of Tarquin being publicly ascertained, Servius came to the crown, solely at the senate's appointment, and without attempting to gain the suffrages of the people.

Se•vius was the son of a bondwoman, who had been taken at the sacking of a town belonging to the Latins, and was born whilst his mother was a slave. While yet an infant in his cradle, a lambent flame is said to have played round his head, which Tanaquil converted into an omen of his future greatness.

Upon being acknowledged as king, the chief object of his reign was to increase the power of the senate, by depressing that of the people. The populace, who were unable to see into his designs, conferred upon him a full power of settling the taxes as he should think proper. And accordingly, as he insisted that they should pay their taxes by centuries, he commanded that they should give their votes, in all public transactions, by centuries also. In former deliberations each citizen gave his suffrage singly, and the numbers of the poor always carried it against the power of the rich; but by the regulations of Servius, the senate was made to consist of a greater number of centuries than all the other classes put together, and thus entirely out-weighed them in every contention.

In order to ascertain the encrease or decay of his subjects and their fortunes, he instituted another regulation which he called a lustrum. By this all the citizens were to assemble in the Campus Martius, in complete armour, and in their respective classes, once in five years, and there to give an exact account of their families and fortune.

Having thus enjoyed a long reign, spent in settling the domestic policy of the state, and also not inat¦tentive to foreign concerns, he conceived reasonable hopes of concluding it with tranquility and ease. He had even thoughts of laying down his power, and, having formed the kingdom into a republic, to retire into obscurity; but so generous a design was frustrated ere it could be put into execution.

In the beginning of his reign, to secure his throne by every precaution, he had married his two daughters to the two grandsons of Tarquin; and as he knew that the women were of opposite dispositions, as well as their intended husb•nds, be resolved to cross their tempers, by giving them to him of a contrary turn of temper; her that was meek and gentle, to him that was bold and furious; her that was ungovernable and proud, to him that was remarkable for a contrary character: by this he supposed, that each would correct the failings of the other, and that the mixture would be productive only of concord. The event however proved otherwise. Lucius, his haughty son in-law, soon grew displeased with the meekness of his consort, and placed his whole affections upon Tullia, his brother's wife, who answered his passion with sympathetic ardour. As their wishes were ungovernable, they soon resolved to break through every restraint that offered to prevent their union; both undertook to murder their consorts, which they effected, and were accordingly soon after married together. A first crime ever produces a second; from the destruction of their consorts, they proceeded to conspiring that of the king. They began by raising factions againct him, alledging his illegal title to the crown, and Lucius by claiming it as his own, as heir to Tarquin. At length, when he found the senate ripe for seconding his views, he entered the senate-house, adorned with all the ensigns of royalty, and placing himself upon the throne, began to harangue them upon the obscurity of the king's birth, and the injustice of his title. While he was yet speaking, Servius entered, attended by a few followers, and seeing his throne thus rudely invaded, offered to push the usurper from his seat; but Tarquin being in the vigour of youth, threw the old man down the steps which led to the throne; and some of his adherents, being instructed for that purpose, followed the king, as he was feebly attempting to get to the palace, and dispatched him by the way, throwing his body, all mangled and bleeding, as a public spectacle into the street. In the mean time, Tullia, burning with impatience for the event, was informed of what her husband had done, and resolving to be among the first who should salute him as monarch, ordered her chariot to the senate-house. But as her charioteer approached the place where the old king her father's body lay exposed and bloody, the man, all amazed at the inhuman spectacle, and not willing to trample upon it with his horses offered to turn another way; this only served to encrease the fierceness of her anger; she threw the footstool at his head, and ordered him to drive over the dead body without hesitation.

This was the end of Servius Tullius, a prince of eminent justice and moderation, after an useful and prosperous reign of forty-four years.

CHAP. VIII. From the death of Servius Tullius to the banishment of Tarquinius Superbus, the seventh and last king of Rome.

LUCIUS Tarquinius, afterwards called Superbus, or the Proud, having placed himself upon the throne, in consequence of this violent attempt, was resolved to support his dignity with the same violence with which it was acquired. Regardless of the senate or the people's approbation, he seemed to claim the crown by an hereditary right, and refused the late king's body burial, under pretence of his being an usurper. All the good part of mankind, however, looked upon his accession with detestation and horror; and this act of inefficient cruelty only served to confirm their hatred. Conscious of this, he ordered all such as be suspected to have been attached to Servius, to be put to death; and fearing the natural consequences of his tyranny, he encreased the guard round his person.

His chief policy seems to have been to keep the people always employed either in wars or public works, by which means he diverted their attention from his unlawful method of coming to the crown. He first marched against the Sabines, who refused to pay him obedience, and soon reduced them to submission. He next began a war with the Volsci, which continued for some ages after. The city of the Gabii gave him much more trouble; for having attempted with some loss, to besiege it, he was obliged to direct his efforts by stratagem, contrary to the usual practice of the Romans. He caused his son Sextus to counterfeit desertion, upon pretence of barbarous usa•e, and to seek refuge among the inhabitants of the place. There, by artful complaints and studied lamentations, he so prevailed upon the pity of the people, as to be chosen their governor, and soon after general of their army. At first, in every engagement, he appeared successful, till at length, finding himself entirely possessed of the confidence of the state, he sent a trusty messenger to his father for instructions. Parquin made no other answer than by taking the messenger into the garden, where he cut down before him the tallest poppies. Sextus readily understood the meaning of this reply, and, one by one, found means to destroy or remove the principal men of the city, still taking care to confiscate their effects among the people. The charms of this dividend kept the giddy populace blind to their approaching ruin, till they found themselves, at last, without counsellors or head; and in the end, fell under the power of Tarquin, without even striking a blow. After this, he made a league with the Aequi, and renewed that with the Etrurians.

But while he was engaged in wars abroad, he took care not to suffer the people to continue in idleness at home. He undertook to build the capitol, the foundation of which had been laid in a former reign, and an extraordinary event contributed to hasten the execution of his design. A woman, in strange attire, made her appearance at Rome, and came to the king, offering to sell nine books, which she said were of her own composing. Not knowing the abilities of the seller, or that she was, in fact, one of the celebrated sybils, whose prophecies were never found to fail, Tarquin refused to buy them. Upon this she departed, and burning three of her books, returned again, demanding the same price for the six remaining. Being once more despised as an impostor, she again departed, and burning three more, she returned with those remaining, still asking the same price as at first. Tarquin, surprised at the inconsistency of her behaviour, consulted the augurs, to advise him what to do. These much blamed him for not buying the nine, and commanded him to buy the three remaining, at whatsoever price they were to be had. The woman, says the historian, after thus selling and delivering the three prophetic volumes, and advising him to have a special attention to what they contained, vanished from before him, and was never seen after. Upon this he chose proper persons to keep them, who, though but two at first, were afterwards encreased to fifteen, under the name of quindecemviri. They were put into a stone chest, and a vault in the newly-designed building was thought the properest place to lodge them in safety. The people having been now for four years together employed in building the capitol, began, at last, to wish for something new to engage them; wherefore Tarquin, to satisfy their wishes, proclaimed war against the Rutuli, upon a frivolous pretence of their having entertained some malefactors whom he had banished, and invested their chief city Ardea, which lay about sixteen miles from Rome. While the army was encamped before this place, the king's son Sextus, with Collatinus a noble Roman, and some others, sat in a tent drinking together: the discourse happening to turn upon the beauty and virtue of their wives, each man praising his own, Collatinus offered to decide the dispute, by putting it to an immediate trial, whose wife should be found possessed of the greatest beauty, and most sedulously employed at that very hour. Being heated with wine, the proposal was relished by the whole company; and taking horse without delay, they posted to Rome, tho' the night was already pretty far advanced. There they found Lucretia, the wife of Collatinus, not like the other women of her age, spending the time in ease and luxury, but spinning in the midst of her maids, and chearfully portioning out their tasks. Her modest beauty, and the easy reception she gave her husband and his friends, so charmed them all, that they unanimously gave her the preference; and Sextus was so much inflamed, that nothing but enjoyment could satisfy his passion.

For that purpose he went from the camp to visit her privately a few days after, and received the same kind reception which he had met with before. As his intentions were not suspected, Lucretia sate with him at supper, and ordered a chamber to be got ready for him in the house. Midnight was the time in which this ruffian thought it safest to put his designs in execution. Having found means to convey himself into her chamber, he approached her bed-side with a drawn sword, and rudely laying his hand upon her bosom, threatened her with instant death if she offered to resist his passion. Lucretia affrighted out of her sleep, and seeing death so near, was yet inexorable to his desire, till being told, that, if she would not yield, he would first kill her, and then laying his own slave also lead by her side, he would report, that he had found and killed them both, in the act of adultery. The terror of infamy atchieved what that of death could not obtain; she consented to his desire, and the next morning he returned to the camp, exulting in his brutal victory. In the mean time, Lucretia, detesting the light, and resolving not to pardon herself for the crime of another, sent for her husband Collatinus, and for Spurius, her father, to come to her, as an indelible disgrace had befallen the family. These instantly obeyed the summons, bringing with them Valerius, a kinsman of her father's, and Junius Brutus, a reputed idiot, whose father Tarquin had murthered, and who had accidentally met the messenger by the way. Their arrival only served to encrease Lucretia's poignant anguish; they found her in a state of stedfast desperation, and vainly attempted to give her relief. ‘No (said she) never shall I find any thing worth living for in this life, after having lost my honour. You see, my Collatinus, a polluted wretch before you; one whose person has been the spoil of another, but whose affections were never estranged from you. Sextus, under the pretended veil of friendship, has this night forced from me that treasure which death only can restore; but if you have the hearts of men, remember to avenge my cause, and let posterity know, that she who has lost her virtue, hath only death for her best consolation.’ So saying, she drew a poignard from beneath her robe▪ and instantly plunging it into her bosom, expired without a groan. The whole company remained for some time fixed in sorrow, pity, and indignation; Spurius and Collatinus, at length gave a vent to their grief in tears; but Brutus drawing the poignard reeking from Lucretia's wound, and lifting it up towards Heaven, "Be witness, ye Gods," he cried, ‘that from this moment I proclaim myself the avenger of the chaste Lucretia's cause: from this moment I profess myself the enemy of Tarquin, and his lustful house: from henceforth this life, while life continues, shall be employed in opposition to tyranny; and for the happiness and freedom of my much loved country.’ A new amazement seized the hearers, to find him, whom they had hitherto considered as an ideot, now appearing in his real character, the friend of justice, and of Rome. He told them, that tears and lamentations were unmanly, when vengeance called so loud; and delivering the poignard to the rest, imposed the same oath upon them which he himself had just taken.

Junius Brutus was the son of Marcus Junius, a noble Roman, who was married to the daughter of Tarquinius Priscus; and for that reason, through a motive of jealousy, was put to death by Tarquin the Proud. This Junius Brutus had received an excellent education from his father, and had, from nature, strong sense, and an inflexible attachment to virtue; but perceiving that Tarquin had privily murdered his father and his eldest brother, he counterfeited himself a fool, in order to escape the same danger, and thence obtained the surname of Brutus. Tarquin thinking his folly real, despised the man; and having possessed himself of his estate, kept him as an ideot in his house, merely with a view of making sport for his children.

Brutus, however, only waited this opportunity to avenge the cause of his family. Wherefore, ordering Lucretia's dead body to be brought out to view, and exposed in the public forum, he enflamed the ardour of the citizens by a display of the horrid trans ••tion. He obtained a decree of the senate, that Tarquin and his family should be for ever banished from Rome, and that it should be capital for any to plead for, or attempt his future return. Thus this monarch, who had now reigned twenty-five years, being expelled his kingdom, went to take refuge with his family at Cira, a little city of Etruria. In the mean time, the Roman army made a truce with the enemy, and Brutus was proclaimed, deliverer of the people.

CHAP. IX. From the banishment of Tarquin to the appointment of the first dictator.

THE regal power being overthrown, a form of government, nominally republican, was substituted in its room. The senate, however, reserved by far the greatest share of the authority to themselves, and decorated their own body with all the spoils of deposed monarchy. The centuries of the people chose from among the senators, instead of a king, two annual magistrates, whom they called consuls, with power equal to that of the regal, and with the same privileges and the same ensigns of authority.

Brutus, the deliverer of his country, and Collatinus, the husband of Lucretia, were chosen first consuls in Rome.

But this new republic, however, which seemed so grateful to the people, had like to have been destroyed in its very commencement. A party was formed in Rome in favour of Tarquin. Some young men of the principal families in the state, who had been educated about the king, and had shared in all the luxuries and pleasures of the court, undertook to reestablish monarchy This party secretly encrease every day; and, what may create our surprize, the sons of Brutus himself, and the Aquilii, the nephews of Collatinus, were among the number Tarquin, who was informed of these intrigues in his favour, sent ambassadors from Etruria to Rome, under a pretence of reclaiming the crown; but in reality, with a design to give spirit to his faction. But the whole conspiracy was discovered by a slave who had accidentally hid himself in the room where the conspirators used to assemble. Few situations could have been more terribly affecting than that of Brutus, a father, placed as a judge upon the life and death of his own children; impelled by justice to condemn, and by nature to spare them. The young men accused, pleaded nothing for themselves; but, with conscious guilt, awaited their sentence in silence and agony. The other judges, who were present, felt all the pangs of nature; Collatinus wept, and Valerius could not repress his sentiments of pity. Brutus, alone, seemed to have lost all the softness of humanity, and, with a stern countenance and a tone of voice that marked his gloomy resolution, demanded of his sons, if they could make any defence to the crimes with which they had been charged. This demand he made three several times; but receiving no answer, he, at length, turned himself to the executioner. "Now," cried he, "it is your part to perform the rest." Thus saying, he again resumed hi• s•at, with an air of determined majesty; nor ••uld all the sentiments of paternal pity, nor all the in p•••ing looks of the people, nor yet the compl••n•• of the young men, who were preparing for 〈…〉, alter the tenor of his resolution. The ex•••t••ners having stripped them naked, and then w•••ped them with rods, presently after beheaded them; Brutus, all the time, beholding the cruel spec •••le with a steady look and unaltered countenance, w••• the multitude gazed on with all the sensations ••pl•y, te••o•, and admiration.

A• Tarquin's hopes of an insurrection in the city 〈◊〉 ••vour being thus overthrown, he was now re ••••d to force himself upon his former throne by so •• •n assistance, and to that end prevailed upon the Vei•ns to assist him, and with a considerable army advanced towards Rome.

The consuls were not remiss in preparations to oppose him. Valerius commanded the foot, and Brutus being appointed to head the cavalry, went out to meet him on the Roman borders. Aruns, the son of Tarquin, who commanded the cavalry for his father, seeing Brutus at a distance, was resolved, by one great attempt, to decide the fate of the day before the engaging of the armies; wherefore spurring on his horse, he made towards him with ungovernable fury. Brutus, who perceived his approach, singled out from the ranks to meet him, and both met with such rage, that, eager only to assail, and thoughtless of defending, they both fell dead upon the field together. A bloody battle ensued, with equal slaughter on both sides; but the Romans remaining in possession of the field of battle, claimed the victory; in consequence, Valerius returned in triumph to Rome.

In the mean time, Tarquin, no way intimidated by his misfortunes, prevailed upon Porsenna, one of the kings of Etruria, to espouse his cause, and in person undertake his quarrel. This prince, equally noted for courage and conduct, marched directly to Rome, with a numerous army, and laid siege to the city, while the terror of his name and his arms filled all ranks of people with dismay. The siege was carried on with vigour: a furious attack was made upon the place: the two consuls opposed in vain, and were carried off wounded from the field; while the Romans flying in great consternation, were pursued by the enemy to the bridge, over which, both victors and vanquished were about to enter the city in the confusion. All now appeared lost and over, when Horatius Cocles, who had been placed there as centinel to defend it, opposed himself to the torrent of the enemy, and, assisted only by two more, for some time sustained the whole fury of the assault, till the bridge was broken down behind him: when he found the communication thus cut off, plunging with his arms into the torrent of the Tyber, he swam back victorious to his fellow-soldiers, and was received with just applause.

Still, however, Porsenna was determined upon taking the city; and, though five hundred of his men were slain in a sally of the Romans, he reduced it to the greatest straights, and turning the siege into a blockade, resolved to take it by famine. The distress of the besieged soon began to be insufferable, and all things seemed to threaten a speedy surrender, when another act of fierce bravery, still superior to that which had saved the city before, again procured its safety and freedom.

Mutius, a youth of undaunted courage, was resolved to rid his country of an enemy, that so sorely continued to oppress it; and for this purpose, disguised in the habit of an Etrurian peasant, entered the camp of the enemy, resolving to die or to kill the king. With this resolution he made up to the place where Porsenna was paying his troops, with a secretary by his side; but mistaking the latter for the king, he stabbed him to the heart, and was immediately apprehended, and brought back into the royal presence. Upon Porsenna's demanding who he was, and the cause of so heinous an action, Mutius, without reserve, informed him of his country and his design, and at the same time thrusting his right hand into a fire that was burning upon an altar before him, "You see," cried he, ‘how little I regard the severest punishment your cruelty can inflict upon me. A Roman knows not only how to act, but to suffer: I am not the only person you have to fear, three hundred Roman youth, ••ke me, have conspired your destruction; there •••e, prepare for their attempts.’ Porsenna, a • 〈◊〉 at to much intrepidity, had too noble a mind 〈◊〉 ••knowledge merit though found in an enemy; he, therefore, ordered him to be safely conducted back to Rome, and offered the besieged conditions of peace. These were readily accepted on their side; being neither h••d nor disgraceful, except that twenty hostages were demanded; ten young men, and as many virgins, of the be•t families in Rome. But even in this instance also, as if the gentler sex were resolved to be sharers in the desperate valour of the times, Clelia, one of the hostages, escaping from her guards, and pointing out the way to the rest of her female companions, swam over the Tyber o• horseback, amidst showers of darts from the enemy, and presented herself to the consul. This magistrate, fearing the consequences of detaining her, had her sent back; upon which, Porsenna, not to be outdone in generosity, not only gave her liberty, but permitted her to chuse such of the hostages, of the opposite sex, as she should think fit to attend her. On her part, she, with all the modesty of a Roman virgin, chose only such as were under fourteen, alledging, that their tender age was least capable of sustaining the rigours of slavery.

Tarquin, by means of his son in-law Manilius, once more stirred up the Latins to espouse his interest, and took the most conveniant opportunity, when the plebeians were at variance with the senators concerning the payment of their debts. These refused to go to war unless their debts were remitted upon their return; so that the consuls, finding their authority insufficient, offered the people to elect a temporary magistrate, who should have absolute power, not only over all ranks of state, but even over the laws themselves. To this the plebeians reader cons•nts, willing to give up their own power, for ••e 〈◊〉 of abridging that of t•e•r ••periors. In consequence of th•s, I 〈◊〉 giv• 〈…〉 the first Dictator of Rome, for so 〈…〉 of••ce called, being nominated to it by his colleague in the consu•sh••. Thus the people, who could not bear to hear the name of king even mentioned, readily submitted to a magistrate possessed of much greater power: so much do the names of things mislead us, and so little is any form of government irksome to people when it concides with their prejudices.

CHAP. X. From the creation of the first dictator, to the election of the tribunes of the people.

LARGIUS being now created dictator, entered upon his office, surrounded with his lictors and all the ensigns of ancient royalty, and seated upon a throne in the midst of the people, ordered the l•vi•s to be made, in the manner of the kings of Rome. The populace looked with terror upon a magistrate whom they had invested with uncontroulable power, and peaceably went each to range himself under his respective standard. Thus going forth to oppose the enemy, he returned with his army, and, before his six months were exp•red, laid down the dictatorship, with the rep•tation of having exercised it with blameless lenity.

But, though for this time the people submitted to be led forth, yet they were resolved, at last, to f•ee themselves from the yoke of their severe masters; any though they could not get their complaints re •••ss••, yet they determined to fly from those whom they could not move to compassion The complaints, t•• of•••e, continuing, they resolved to quit a city 〈◊〉 ga•e them no shelter, and to form a new esta •••s•ment without its limits. They, therefore, un ••• the conduct of a plebeian named Sicinius Bellu ••▪ •e••red to a mountain, from thence called the 〈◊〉, on the banks of the river Anio, within a•••inte• miles f•om Home.

〈◊〉 the news of this defection, the city was 〈◊〉 with tumult and consternation; those who wished well to the army made all the attempts they could to scale the walls, in order to join it. The senate was not less agitated than the rest: some were for violent measures, and repelling force by force; others were of opinion, that gentler arts were to be used, and that even a victory over such enemies, would be worse than a defeat. At length, therefore, it was resolved to send a messenger, entreating the army to return home and declare their grievances, promising at the same time, an oblivion of all that had passed.

This message not succeeding, Menenius Agrippa, one of the wisest and best of the senators; was of opinion, that the people were to be complied with.

It was resolved, therefore, to enter into a treaty with the people, and to make them such offers as should induce them to return. Ten commissioners were accordingly deputed, at the head of whom were Largius and Valerius, who had been dictators, and Menenius Agrippa, equally loved by the senate and the people. The dignity and the popularity of these ambassadors procured them a very respectable reception among the soldiers, and a long conference began between them. Largius and Valerius employed all their oratory on the one hand; while Sicinius and Lucius Junius, who were the spokesmen of the soldiery, aggravated their distresses, with all that masculine eloquence which is the child of nature. The conference had now continued for a long time, when Menenius Agrippa, who had been originally a plebeian himself, a shrewd man, and who, consequently, knew what kind of eloquence was most likely to please the people, addressed them with that celebrated fable, which is so finely told us by Livy. "In times of old, when every part of the body could think for itself, and each had a separate will of its own, they all, with common consent, resolved to revolt against the belly: they knew no reason, they said, why they should toil from morning till night in its service, while the belly, in the mean time, lay at its ease in the midst of them all, and indolently grew fat upon their labours: accordingly, one and all, they agreed to befriend it no more. The feet vowed they would carry it no longer; the hands vowed they would feed it no longer; and the teeth averred they would not chew a morsel of meat, though it were placed between them. Thus resolved, they all, for some time, shewed their spirit, and kept their word; but soon they found, that, instead of mortifying the belly by these means, they only undid themselves; they languished for a while, and perceived, when too late, that it was owing to the belly, that they had strength to work or courage to mutiny."

This fable, the application of which is obvious, had an instantaneous effect upon the people. They unanimously cried out, that Agrippa should lead them back to Rome; and were making preparations to follow him, when Lucius Junius, before-mentioned, with-held them; alledging, that, though they were gratefully to acknowledge the kind offers of the senate, yet they had no safe-guard for the future against their resentment; that, therefore, it was necessary for the security of the people, to have certain officers created annually from among themselves, who should have power to give such of them as should be injured, redress, and plead the cause of the community.

The people, who are ever of opinion with the last speaker, highly applauded this proposal, which yet the commissioners had not power to comply with; they, therefore, sent to Rome to take the instructions of the senate; who, worried with divisions among themselves, and harrassed by complaints from without, were resolved to have peace, at whatsoever price it should be obtained; accordingly, as if with one •••ce, they consented to the creation of their new ••lvers, who were called Tribunes of the People, Appius alone protesting with vehemence against the measure.

The tribunes of the people were at first five in number, though afterwards their body was encreased by five more. They were always annually elected by the people, and almost always from their body. They at first had their seats placed before the doors of the senate-house, and being called in they were to examine every decree, annulling it by the word veto, I forbid it; or confirming it by signing the letter T, which gave it its validity. This new office being thus instituted, Sicinius Bellutus, Lucius Junius, Caius Licinius, Albinus, and Icilius Ruga were the first tribunes chosen by the suffrages of the people The senate also made an edict confirming the abolition of debts: and now all things being adjusted both on the one side and the other, the people, after having sacrificed to the Gods of the mountain, returned back once more in triumph to Rome.

CHAP. XI. From the creation of the tribunes to the appointment of the decemviri.

DURING the late separation, all tillage had been entirely neglected, and a famine was the consequence the ensuing season. The senate did all that lay in their power to remedy the distress; but the people, pinched with want, and willing to throw the blame on any but themselves, ascribed the whole of their distress, to the avarice of the patricians; who having purchased all the corn, as was alledged, intended to indemnify themselves for the abolition of debts, by selling it out to great advantage. But abundance, soon after, appeased them for a time. A large fleet of ships laden with corn from Sicily (a great part of which was a present from Gelon, the king of that country, to the Romans, and the rest purchased by the senate with the public money) raised their spirits once more.

But Coriolanus incurred their resentment, by insisting that it should not be distributed till the grievances of the senate were removed. For this, the tribunes summoned him to a trial before the people.

When the appointed day was come, all persons were filled with the greatest expectations, and a vast concourse from the adjacent country assembled and filled up the Forum. Coriolanus, upon this, presented himself before the people, with a degree of intrepidity that merited better fortune. His graceful person, his persuasive eloquence, the cries of those whom he had saved from the enemy, inclined the auditors to relent. But, being unable to answer what was alledged against him to the satisfaction of the people, and utterly confounded with a new charge, of having embezzled the plunder of Antium, the tribunes immediately took the votes, and Coriolanus was condemned to perpetual ex•le.

This sentence against their bravest defender, struck the whole body of the senate with sorrow, consternation, and regret. Coriolanus alone, in the midst of the tumult, seemed an unconcerned spectator. He returned home, followed by the lamentations of hundreds of the most respectable senators and citizens of Rome, to take a lasting leave of his wife, his children, and his mother Veturia. Thus recommending his little children to their care, and all to the care of Heaven, he left the city, without followers or fortune, to take refuge with Tullus Attius, a man of great power among the Volscians, who took him under his protection, and espoused his quarrel.

The first thing to be done, was to induce the Volsci to break the league which had been made with Rome; and for this purpose Tullus sent many of his citizens thither, in order to see some games at that time celebrating; but in the mean time gave the senate private information, that the strangers had dangerous intentions of burning the city. This had the desired effect; the senate issued an order, that all strangers, whoever they were, should depart from Rome before sun-set. This order Tullus represented to his countrymen, as an infraction of the treaty, and procured an embassy to Rome, complaining of the breach, and redemanding all the territories belonging to the Volscians, of which they had been violently dispossessed; declaring war in case of a refusal: but this message was treated by the senate with contempt.

War being thus declared on both sides, Coriolanus and Tullus were made generals of the Volscians, and accordingly invaded the Roman territories, ravaging and laying waste all such lands as belonged to the plebeians, but letting those of the senators remain untouched. In the mean time, the levies went on but slowly at Rome; the two consuls, who were re-elected by the people, seemed but little skilled in war, and even feared to encounter a general, whom they knew to be their superior in the field. The allies also shewed their fears, and slowly b•ought in their succours; so that Coriolanus continued to take their towns one after the other. Fortune followed him in every expedition, and he was now so famous for his victories, that the Volsci left their towns desenceless, to follow him into the field. The v•ry soldiers of his colleague's army came over to him, and would acknowledge no other general. Thus find ••g himself unopposed in the field, and at the head of 〈◊〉 ••me us army, he at length invested the city of Rome itself, fully resolved to besiege it. It was then that the senate and the people unanimously agreed to send deputies to him with proposals of restoration, in cas• he should draw off his army. Coriolanus received their proposals at the head of his principal officers, and, with the sternness of a general that was to give the law, refused their offers.

Another embassy was now sent forth, conjuring him not to exact from his native city, aught but what became Romans to grant. Coriolanus, however, naturally inflexible and severe, still persisted in his former demands, and granted them but three days, in which to finish their deliberations. In this exigence, all that was left, was another deputation still more solemn than either of the former, composed of the pontiffs, the priests, and the augurs. These, cloathed in their habits of ceremony, and with a grave and mournful deportment, issued from the city, and entered the camp of the conqueror: but all in vain, they found him severe and inflexible as before.

When the people saw them return ineffectually, they began to give up the commonwealth as lost. Their temples were filled with old men, with women and children, who, prostrate at their altars, put up their ardent prayers for the preservation of their country. Nothing was to be heard but anguish and lamentation, nothing to be seen but scenes of affright and distress. At length, it was suggested to them, that what could not be effected by the intercession of the senate, or the adjuration of the priests, might be brought about by the tears of his wife, or the commands of his mother. This deputation seemed to be relished by all, and even the senate itself gave it the sanction of their authority. Veturia, the mother of Coriolanus, at first made some hesitation to undertake so pious a work, knowing the inflexible temper of her son, and fearing only to shew his disobedience in a new point of light, by rejecting the commands of a parent: however, she, at last undertook the embassy, and set forward from the city, accompanied by many of the principal matrons of Rome, with Volumnia his wife, and his two children. Coriolanus, who at a distance discovered this mournful train of females, was resolved to give them a denial, and called his officers round him, to be witnesses of his resolution: but, when told that his mother and his wife were among the number, he instantly came down from his tribunal, to meet and embrace them. At first, the women's tears and embraces took away the power of words, and the rough soldier himself, hard as he was, could not refrain from sharing in their distress. Coriolanus, now seemed much agitated by contending passions; while his mother, who saw him moved, seconded her words by the most persuasive eloquence, her tears: his wife and children hung round him, entreating for protection and pity; while the fair train, her companions, added their lamentations, and deplored their own and their country's distress. Coriolanus, for a moment, was silent, feeling the strong conflict between honour and inclination; at length, as if rouzed from his dream, he flew to take up his mother, who had fallen at his feet, crying out, ‘O my mother, thou hast saved Rome, but lost thy son.’ He accordingly gave orders to draw off the army, pretending to the officers, that the city was too strong to be taken. Tullus, who had long envied his glory, was not remiss in aggravating the lenity of his conduct to his countrymen. Upon their return, Coriolanus was slain in an insurrection of the people, and afterwards honourably buried, with late and ineffectual repentance.

Great and many were the public rejoicings at Rome, upon the retreat of the Volscian army: but they were clouded soon after by the intrigues of Spurius Cassius, who wanting to make himself despotic by means of the people, was found guilty of a number of crimes, all tending towards altering the constitution, and was thrown head-long from the Tarpeian rock, by those very people whose interests he had endeavoured to extend.

The year following, the two consuls of the former year, Manlius and Fabius, were cited by the tribunes to appear before the people. The Agrarian law, which had been proposed some time before, for equally dividing the lands of the commonwealth among the people, was the object invariably pursued, and they were accused of having made unjustifiable delays in putting it off.

It seems, the Agrarian law was a grant the senate could not think of giving up to the people. The consuls, therefore, made many delays and excuses, till at length they were once more obliged to have recourse to a dictator, and they fixed upon Quintus Cincinnatus, a man who had, for some time, given up all views of ambition, and retired to his little farm, where the deputies of the senate found him holding the plow, and dressed in the mean attire of a labouring husband-man. He appeared but little elevated with the addresses of ceremony, and the pompous habits they brought him; and, upon declaring to him the senate's pleasure, he testified rather a concern that his aid should be wanted: he naturally preferred the charms of a country retirement, to the fatiguing splendors of office, and only said to his wife, as they were leading him away, ‘I fear, my Attillia, that for this year, our little fields must remain unsown.’ Thus taking a tender leave, he departed for the city, where both parties were strongly enflamed against each other. However, he was resolved to side with neither; but, by a strict attention to the interests of his country, instead of gaining the confidence of faction, to seize the esteem of all. Thus, by threats, and well-timed submission, he prevailed upon the tribunes to put off their law for a time, and carried himself so as to be a terror to the multitude, whenever they refused to enlist; and their greatest encourager whenever their submission deserved it. Thus having restored that tranquility to the people, which he so much loved himself, he again gave up the splendors of ambition, to enjoy it with a greater relish in his little farm.

Cincinnatus was not long retired from his office, when a fresh exigence of the state once more required his assistance; the Aequi and the Volsci, who, though still worsted, still were for renewing the war, made new inroads into the territories of Rome. Minutius, one of the consuls who succeeded Cincinnatus, was sent to oppose them; but being naturally timid, and rather more afraid or being conquered than desirous of victory, his army was driven into a defile between two mountains, from which, except through the enemy, there was no egress. This, however, the Aequi had the precaution to fortify, by which the Roman army was so hemmed in on every side, that nothing remained but submission to the enemy, famine, or immediate death. Some knights who found means of getting away privately through the enemy's camp, were the first that brought the account of this disaster to Rome. Nothing could exceed the consternation of all ranks of people when informed of it; the senate, at first, thought of the other consul; but not having sufficient experience of his abilities, they unanimously turned their eyes upon Cincinnatus, and resolved to make him dictator. Cincinnatus, the only person on whom Rome could now place her whole dependence, was found, as before, by the messengers of the senate, labouring in his little field, with chearful industry. He was at first astonished at the ensigns of unbounded power, with which the deputies came to invest him; but still more at the approach of the principal of the senate, who came out to meet him. A dignity so unlooked for, however, had no effect upon the simplicity or the integrity of his manners: and being now possessed of absolute power, and called upon to nominate his master of the horse, he chose a poor man named Tarquitius, one who, like himself, despised riches when they led to dishonour. Thus the saving a great nation was devolved upon an husbandman, taken from the plough, and an obscure centinel found among the dregs of the army. Upon entering the city, the dictator put on a serene look, and entreated all those who were able to bear arms, to repair before sun-set to the Campus Martius (the place where the levies were made) with necessary arms, and provisions for five days. He put himself at the head of these, and marching all night with great expedition, he arrived before day, within sight of the enemy. Upon his approach, he ordered his soldiers to raise a loud shout, to apprize the consul's army of the relief that was at hand. The Aequi were not a little amazed, when they saw themselves between two enemies, but still more when they perceived Cincinnatus making the strongest entrenchments beyond them, to prevent their escape, and enclosing them as they had enclosed the consul. To prevent this, a furious combat ensued; but the Aequi being attacked on both sides, and unable to resist or fly, begged a cessation of arms. They offered the dictator his own terms: he take them their lives; but obliged them, in token of servitude, to pass under the yoke, which was two spears set upright, and another across in the form of • callows, beneath which the vanquished were to march. Their captains and generals he made prisoners of war, being reserved to adorn his triumph. As for the plunder of the enemies camp, that he has entirely up to his own soldiers, without reserving any part for himself, or permitting those of the deli •ered army to have a share. Thus, having rescued • Roman army from inevitable destruction, having •stated a powerful enemy, having taken and fortified their city, and, still more, having refused an• part of the spoil, he resigned his dictatorship, afte• having enjoyed it but fourteen days. The senate would have enriched him, but he declined thei• proffers, chusing to retire once more to his farm and his cottage, content with temperance and fame.

But this repose from foreign invasion did not lesse• the tumults of the city within. The clamours fo• the Agrarian law still continued, and still mor• fiercely, when Siccius Dentatus, a plebeian, advanced in years, but of an admirable person and mi¦litary deportment, came forward to enumerate his hardships and his merits. This old soldier made no scruple of extolling the various atchievements of hi• youth, but indeed his merits supported ostentation▪ He had served his country in the wars forty years he had been an officer thirty, first a centurion, and then a tribune; he had fought one hundred and twenty battles; in which, by the force of his single arm, he had saved a multitude of lives: he had gained fourteen civic, three mural, and eight golden crowns, besides eighty-three chains, sixty bracelets, eighteen gilt spears, and twenty-three horse-trappings, whereof nine were for killing the enemy in single combat: moreover, he had received forty-five wounds, all before, and none behind. These were his honours; yet, notwithstanding all this, he had never received any share of those lands which were won from the enemy; but continued to draw on a life of poverty and contempt, while others were possest of those very territories which his valour had won, without any merit to deserve them, or ever having contributed to the conquest. A case of so much hardship had a strong effect upon the multitude; they unanimously demanded, that the law might be passed, and that such merit should not go unrewarded. It was in vain that some of the senators rose up to speak against it, their voices were drowned by the cries of the people. When reason, therefore, could no longer be heard, passion, as usual, succeeded; and the young patricians running furiously into the throng, broke the balloting urns, and dispersed the multitude that offered to oppose them. For this they were some time after fined by the tribunes, but their resolution, nevertheless, for the present put off the Agrarian law.

CHAP. XII. From the creation of the Decemviri to the extinction of that office.

THE commonwealth of Rome had now for near sixty years been fluctuating between the contending orders that composed it, till at length, each side, as if weary, were willing to respire a while from the mutual exertions of their claims. The citizens, now, therefore, of every rank, began to complain of the arbitrary decisions of their magistrates, and wished to be guided by a written body of laws, which being known, might prevent wrongs as well as punish them. In this, both the senate and the people concurred, as hoping that such laws would put an end to the commotions that so long had harrassed the state. It was thereupon agreed, that ambassadors should be sent to the Greek cities in Italy, and to Athens, to bring home such laws from thence, as by experience had been found most equitable and useful. For this purpose, three senators, Posthumius, Sulpicius, and Manlius, were fixed upon, and gallies ass•gned to convoy them, agreeable to the majesty of the R•man people. While they were upon this c•mmission abroad, a dreadful plague depopulated the city at Rome, and supplied the interval of their •o••n•• with other anxiety than that of wishes for their return. In about a year the plague ceased, an• the ambassadors returned, bringing home a body o• laws, collected from the most civilized states of Greece and Italy, which being afterwards formed into ten tables, and two more being added, made that celebrated code, called the laws of the Twelve Tables many fragments of which remain to this day.

The ambassadors were no sooner returned, than the tribunes required, that a body of men should be chosen to digest their new laws into proper form, and to give weight to the execution of them. After long debates whether this choice should not be partly made from the people as well as the patricians, it was at last agreed that ten of the principal senators should be elected, whose power continuing for a year, should be equal to that of kings and consuls, and that without any appeal. The persons chosen were, Appius and Genutius, who had been elected consuls for the ensuing year; Posthumius, Sulpicius, and Manlius, the three ambassadors; Sextus and Romulus, former consuls; with Julius, Veturius, and Horatius, senators of the first consideration. Thus the whole constitution of the state at once took a new form, and a dreadful experiment was going to be tried, of governing one nation, by laws formed from the manners and customs of another.

The decemviri being now invested with absolute power, agreed to take the reins of government by turns, and that each should dispense justice for a day.

These magistrates, for the first year, wrought with extreme application: and their work being finished, it was expected that they would be contented to give up their offices; but having known the charms of power, they were now unwilling to resign it: they therefore pretended that some laws were yet wanting to complete their design, and entreated the senate for a continuance of their offices; to which that body assented.

But they soon threw off the mask of moderation, and, regardless either of the approbation of the senate or the people, resolved to continue themselves, against all order, in the decemvirate. A conduct so notorious produced discontents, and these were as sure to produce fresh acts of tyranny. The city was become almost a desert, with respect to all who had any thing to lose, and the decemvirs rapacity was then only discontinued, when they wanted fresh objects to exercise it upon. In this state of slavery, proscription, and mutual distrust, not one citizen was found to strike for his country's freedom; these tyrants continued to rule without control, being constantly guarded, not with their lictors alone, but a numerous c•owd of dependents, clients, and even patricians, whom their vices had confederated round them.

In this gloomy situation of the state, the Aequi and Volsci, those constant enemies of the Romans, undertook their incursions, resolved to profit by the intestine divisions of the people, and advanced within about ten miles of Rome.

But the decemviri being put in possession of all the military as well as of the civil power, divided their army into three parts; whereof one continued with Appius in the city, to keep it in awe; the other two were commanded by his colleagues, and were led, one against the Aequi, and the other against the Sabines. The Roman soldiers had now got into a method of punishing the generals whom they disliked, by suffering themselves to be vanquished in the field. They put it in practice upon this occasion, and shamefully abandoned their camp upon the approach of the enemy. Never was the news of a victory more joyfully received at Rome, than the tidings of this defeat; the generals, as is always the case, were blamed for the treachery of their men; some demanded that they should be deposed, others cried out for a dictator to lead the troops to conquest; but among the rest, old Siccius Dentatus, the tribune, spoke his sentiments with his usual openness; and treating the generals with contempt, shewed all the faults of their discipline in the camp, and their conduct in the field. Appius, in the mean time, was not remiss in observing the disposition of the people. Dentatus in particular was marked out for vengeance, and, under pretence of doing him particular honour, he was appointed legate, and put at the head of the supplies which were sent from Rome, to reinforce the army. The office of legate was held sacred among the Romans, as in it were united the authority of a general, with the reverence due to the priesthood. Dentatus, no way suspecting his design, went to the camp with alacrity, where he was received with all the external marks of respect. But the generals soon found means of indulging their desire of revenge. He was appointed at the head of an hundred men to go and examine a more commodious place for encampment, as he had very candidly assured the commanders, that their present situation was wrong. The soldiers however, who were given as his attendants, were assassins; wretches who had •ong been ministers of the vengeance of the decemviri, and who now engaged to murder him, though with all those apprehensions, which his reputation, as he was called the Ro¦man Achilles, might be supposed to inspire. With these designs they led him fr•m the way into the below bosom of a retired mountain, where they began to set upon him from behind. Dentatus now too late perceived the treachery of the decemviri, and was resolved to fell his life as dearly as he could; he therefore put his back to a rock, and defended himself against those who pressed most closely. Though now grown old, he had ••i•l the remains of his former valour, and killed no less than fifteen of the assailants, and wounded thirty with his own hand. The assassins now therefore, terrified at his amazing bravery, showered in their javelins upon him at a distance, all which he received in his shield with undaunted resolution. The combat, though so unequal in numbers, was managed for some time with doubtful success, till at length his assailants bethought themselves of ascending the rock, against which he stood, and thus poured down stones upon him from above. This succeeded; the old soldier fell beneath their united efforts, after having shewn by his death, that he owed it to his fortitude, and not his fortune, that he had come off so many times victorious. The decemviri pretended to join in the general sorrow for so brave a man, and decreed him a funeral with the first military honours: but the greatness of their apparent distress, compared with their known hatred, only rendered them still more detestable to the people.

But a transaction still more attrocious •han the former, served to inspire the citizens with a resolution to break a•l measures of obedience, and at last to restore freedom Appius, who still remained at Rome, fitting one day on his tribunal to dispense justice, saw a maiden of exquisite beauty, and aged about fifteen, passing to one of the public schools, attended by a matron, her n•rse. The charms of this damsel, heightened by all the innocence of virgin modesty, caught his attention, and fired his heart. The day following, as she pa•t, he found her still more beautiful than bef•re, and his breast still more enflamed. He now ••e•e••re resolved to obtain the gratification of his passion, •hatever should be the consequence, and •••nd means to inform himself of the virgin's name and family. Her name was Virginia She was the daughter of Virginius, a centurion, then with the army in the field, and had been contracted to Icilius, for•erly a tribune of the people, who had agreed to marry her at the end of the present campaign Appius, at first, resolved to break this match, and to espouse her himself; but the laws of the Twelve Tables had forbidden the patricians to intermarry with the plebeians, and he could not infringe these, as he was the enactor of them. Nothing therefore remained but a criminal enjoyment, which, as he was long used to the indulgence of his passions, he resolved to obtain. After having vainly tried to corrupt the fidelity of her nurse, he had recourse to another expedient, still more guilty. He pitched upon one Claudius, who had long been the minister of his pleasures, to assert the beautiful maid was his slave, and to refer the cause to his tribunal for decision. Claudius behaved exactly according to his instructions, for entering into the school, where Virginia was playing among her female companions, he seized upon her as his property, and was going to drag her away by force, but was prevented by the people drawn together by her cries. At length, after the first heat of opposition was over, he led the weeping virgin to the tribunal of Appius, and there plausibly exposed his pretensions. He asserted that she was born in his house, of a female slave, who sold her to the wife of Virginius, who had been barren. That he had several credible evidences to prove the truth of what he said; but that, until they could come together, it was but reasonable, the slave should be delivered into his custody, being her proper master. Appius seemed to be struck with the justice of his claims; he observed, that if the reputed father himself were present, he might indeed be willing to delay the delivery of the maiden for some time, but that it was not lawful for him, in the present case, to detain her from her lawful master. He therefore adjudged her to Claudius, as his slave, to be kept by him till Virginius should be able to prove his paternity. This sentence was received with loud clamours and reproaches by the multitude; the women in particular came round the innocent Virginia, as if willing to protect her from the judge's fury; while Icilius, her lover, boldly opposed the decree, and obliged Claudius to take refuge under the tribunal of the decemvir. All things now threatened an open insurrection, when Appius, fearing the event, thought proper to suspend his judgment till the arrival of Virginius, who was then about a eleven miles from Rome, with the army. The day following was fixed for the trial; and, in the mean time, Appius sent letters to the generals to confine Virginius, as his arrival in town might only serve to kindle sedition among the people. These letters, however, were intercepted by the centurion's friends, who sent him 〈◊〉 a ••il and relation of the design laid against the li •••y and the honour of his only daughter. Virgi •••• upon this, pretending the death of a near relation got permission to leave the camp, and flew to Rome, inspired with indignation and revenge. Accordingly, the next day he appeared before the tribun•• to the astonishment of Appius, leading his weeping daughter by the hand, both habited in the deepe•t mourning. Claudius, the accuser, was also there, and began by making his demand. Virginius next spoke in turn; he represented that his wife had many children; that she had been seen pregnant by numbers; that, if he had intentions of adopting a suppositious child, he would have fixed upon a boy rather than a girl; that it was notorious to all, that 〈◊〉 wife had herself suckled her own child; and that it was surprizing such a claim should be now revived, after a fifteen years discontinuance. While the father spoke this with a stern air, Virginia stood trembling by, and, with looks of persuasive innocence, added weight to all his remonstrances. The people seemed entirely satisfied of the hardship of his •ase, till Appius, fearing what he said might have dangerous effects upon the multitude, interrupted him, under a pretence of being sufficiently instructed in the merits of the cause. "Yes," says he, ‘my conscience obliges me to declare, that I myself am a witness to the truth of the deposition of Claudius. Most of this assembly know that I was left guardian to this youth, and I was very early apprized, that he had a right to this young woman; but the affairs of the public, and the dissensions of the people, then prevented my doing him justice. However, it is not now too late; and, by the power vested in me for the public good, I adjudge Virginia to be the property of Claudius, the plaintiff. Go, therefore, lictors, disperse the multitude, and make room for a master to repossess himself of his slave.’ The lictors, in obedience to his command, soon drove off the throng that pressed round the tribunal; and now they seized upon Virginia, and were delivering her up into the hands of Claudius, when Virginius, who found that all was over, seemed to acquiesce in the sentence. He therefore mildly entreated Appius to be permitted to take a last farewell of one whom he had long considered as his child, and, so satisfied, he would return to his duty with fresh alacrity. With this the decemvir complied, but upon condition that their endearments should pass in his presence. Virginius, with the most poignant anguish, took his almost expiring daughter in his arms, for a while supported her head upon his breast, and wiped away the tears that rolled down her lovely visage; and happening to be near the shops that surrounded the Forum, he snatched up a knife that lay on the shambles, and addressing his daughter. "My dearest, lost child," cried he, ‘this this alone can preserve your honour and your freedom.’ So saying, he buried the weapon in he• breast, and then holding it up, reeking with th• blood of his daughter, "Appius," he cried, ‘by this blood of innocence, I devote thy head to th• infernal gods.’ Thus saying, with the blood• knife in his hand, and threatening destruction to whomsoever should oppose him, he ran through the city, wildly calling upon the people to strike for freedom, and from thence went to the camp, in order to spread a like flame through the army.

He no sooner arrived at the camp, followed by a number of his friends, but he informed the army of all that was done, still holding the bloody knife in his hand. He asked their pardon, and the pardon of the gods, for having committed so rash an action, but ascribed it all to the dreadful necessity of the times. The army, already predisposed, immediately with shouts echoed their approbation, and decamping, left their generals behind, to take their station once more upon mount Aventine, whither they had retired about forty years before. The other army, which had been to oppose the Sabines, seemed to feel a like resentment, and came over in large parties to join them.

Appius, in the mean time, did all he could to quell the disturbances in the city; but finding the tumult incapable of controul, and perceiving that his mortal enemies, Valerius and Horatius, were the most active in opposition, at first attempted to find safety by slight; nevertheless, being encour••ed by Oppius, who was one of his colleagues, he ventured to assemble the senate, and urged the punishment of all deserters. The senate, however, were far from giving him the relief he sought for; they foresaw the dangers and miseries that threatened the state, in case of opposing the incensed army; they therefore dispatched messengers to them, offering to restore their former mode of government. To this proposal all the people joyfully assented, and the army gladly obeying, now returned to the city, if not with the ensigns, at least with the pleasure, of a triumphant entry. Appius and Oppius, one of his colleagues, both died by their own hands in prison. The other eight decemvirs went into voluntary exile; and Claudius, the pretended master of Virginia, was driven out after them.

In the mean time, these intestine tumults produced weakness within the state, and confidence in the enemy abroad. The wars with the Aequi and Volsci still continued, and, as each year some trifling advantages were obtained over the Romans, they, at last, advanced so far, as to make their incursions to the very walls of Rome. But no• the courage only of the Romans seemed diminished by these contests, but their other virtues also, particularly their justice. About this time the inhabitants of two neighbouring cities, Ardea an• Aricia, had a contest between themselves, about som• lands that had long been claimed by both. A• length, being unable to agree, they referred it to th• senate and the people of Rome The senate had ye• some o• the principles of primitive justice remaining and refused to determine the dispute. But the peo¦ple readily undertook the decision; and one Scapti¦us, an old man, declaring, that these very lands o• right belonged to Rome, they immediately vote themse•ves to be the legal possessors, and sent hom• the former litigants, thoroughly convinced of thei• own folly, and of the Roman injustice.

The tribunes now grew more turbulent: they pro¦posed two laws; one to permit plebeians to intermar¦ry with patricians; and the other, to permit them t• be admitted to the consulship also. The senators re¦ceived these proposals with indignation, and seeme• resolved to undergo the utmost extremities, rathe• than submit to enact them. However, finding the resistance only encrease the commotions of the state they, at last, consented to pass the law concernin• marriages, hoping that this concession would satisf• the people. But they were to be appeased but for • very short times for returning to their old custom• refusing to enlist upon the approach of an enemy, the consuls were forced to hold a private conference with the chief of the senate; where, after many debates, Claudius proposed an expedient, as the most probable means of satisfying the people in the present conjuncture. This was, to create six or eight governors in the room of consuls, whereof, one half, at least, should be patricians. This project, which was, in fact, granting what the people demanded, pleased the whole meeting; and it was agreed, that at the next public meeting of the senate, the consuls should, contrary to their usual custom, begin by asking the opinion of the youngest senator. Upon assembling the senate, one of the tribunes accused them of holding secret meetings, and managing dangerous designs against the people. The consuls, on the other hand, averred their innocence; and, to demonstrate their sincerity, gave any of the younger members of the house leave to propound their opinions. These remaining silent, such of the older senators as were known to be popular, began by observing, that the people ought to be indulged in their request, that none so well deserved power, as those who were most instrumental in gaining it; and that the city could not be free until all were reduced to perfect equality. Claudius, spoke next; and, broke out into bitter invectives against the people; asserting, that it was his opinion that the law should not pass. This produced some disturbance among the plebeians; at length, Genutius, proposed, as had been preconcerted, that six governors should be annually chosen, with consular authority, three from the senate, and three from the people; and that when the time of their magistracy should be expired, then it would be seen whether they would have the same office continued, or whether the consulship should be established upon its former •ooting. This project was eagerly embraced by the people: yet so sickle were the multitude, that though many of the plebeians stood, the choice wholly fell upon the patricians, who offered themselves as candidates. These new magistrates were called Military Tribunes; they were at first but three, afterwards they were encreased to four, and at length to six. They had the power and ensigns of consuls, yet that power being divided among a number, each singly was of less authority. The first that were chosen, only continued in office about three months, the augurs having found something amiss in the ceremonies of their election.

The military tribunes being deposed, the consuls once more came into office; and, in order to lighten the weight of business which they were obliged to sustain, a new office was erected; namely, that of Censors, to be chosen every fifth year. Their business was to take an estimate of the number and estates of the people, and to distribute them into their proper classes; to inspect into the lives and manners of their fellow-citizens; to degrade senators for misconduct; to dismount knights, and to turn down plebeians from their tribes into an inferior, in case of misdemeanor. The two first censors were Papirius and Sempronius, both patricians; and from this order they continued to be elected for near an hundred years.

This new creation served to restore peace for some time among the orders; and a triumph gained over the Volscians by Geganius the consul, added to the universal satisfaction that reigned among the people.

This calm, however, was but of short continuance; for, some time after, a famine pressing hard upon the poor, the usual complaints against the rich were renewed; and these, as before, proving ineffectual, produced new seditions. The consuls were accused of neglect, in not having laid in proper quantities of corn; they, however, disregarded the murmurs of the populace, content with exerting all their care in attempts to supply the pressing necessities. But though they did all that could be expected from active magistrates, in providing and distributing provisions to the poor; yet Spurius Maelius, a rich knight, who had purchased up all the corn of Tuscany, by far outshone them in liberality. This demagogue, enflamed with a secret desire of becoming powerful by the contentions in the state, distributed corn in great quantities among the poorer sort each day, till his house became the asylum of all such as wished to exchange a life of labour for one of lazy dependence. When he had thus gained a sufficient number of partizans, he procured large quantities of arms to be brought into his house by night, and formed a conspiracy, by which he was to obtain the command, while some of the tribunes, whom he had found means to corrupt, were to act under him, in seizing upon the liberties of his country. Minucius soon discovered the plot, and informing the senate thereof, they immediately formed a resolution of creating a dictator, who should have the power of quelling the conspiracy, without appealing to the people. Cincinnatus, who was now eighty years old, was chosen once more to rescue his country from impending danger. He began by summoning Maelius to appear; who refused to obey. He next sent Ahala, the master of his horse, to force him; who meeting him in the Forum, and pressing Maelius to follow him to the dictator's tribunal, upon his refusal, Ahala killed him upon the spot. The dictator applauded the resolution of his officer, and commanded the conspirator's goods to be sold, and his house to be demolished, distributing his stores among the people.

The tribunes of the people were much enraged at the death of Maelius; and, in order, to punish the senate at the next election, instead of consuls, insisted upon restoring their military tribunes With this, the senate were obliged to comply. The next year, however, the govern¦ment returned to its ancient channel, and consul were chosen.

The Veians had long been the rivals of Rome▪ they had ever taken the opportunity of its internal distresses, to ravage its territories, and had even threatened its ambassadors, sent to complain of these injuries, with outrage. It seemed now therefore determined, that the city of Veii, whatever it should cost, was to fall; and the Romans accordingly sate regularly down before it, prepared for a long and painful resistance. The strength of the place may be inferred from the continuance of the siege, which lasted for ten years; during which time, the army continued encamped round it, lying, in winter, under tents, made of the skins of beasts, and in summer, driving on the operations of the attack. Various was the success, and many were the commanders that directed the siege; sometimes all the besiegers works were destroyed, and many of their men cut off by sallies from the town; sometimes they were annoyed by an army of Veians, who attempted to bring assistance from without. A siege so bloody, seemed to threaten depopulation to Rome itself, by draining its forces continually away; so that a law was obliged to be made, for all the bachelors to marry the widows of the soldiers who were slain. In order so carry it on with greater vigour, Furius Camillus was created dictator, and to him was entrusted the sole power of managing the long protracted war. Camillus, who, without intrigue or any sollicitation, had raised himself to the first eminence in the state, had been made one of the censors some time before, and was considered as the head of that office; he was afterwards made a military tribune, and had in this post gained several advantages over the enemy. It was his great courage and abilities in the above offices, that made him thought most worthy to serve his country on this pressing occasion. Upon his appointment, numbers of the people flocked to his standard, confident of success under so experienced a commander. Conscious, however, that he was unable to take the city by storm, he secretly wrought a mine into it, with vast labour, which opened into the midst of the citadel. Certain thus of success, and finding the city incapable of relief, he sent to the senate, desiring, that all who chose to share in the plunder of Veii, should immediately repair to the army. Then giving his men directions how to enter at the breach, the city was instantly filled with his legions, to the amazement and consternation of the besieged, who, but a moment before, had rested in perfect security. Thus, like a second Troy, was the city of Veii taken, after a ten years siege; and, with its spoils enriched the conquerors; while Camillus himself, transported with the honour of having subdued the rival of his native 〈◊〉, triumphed after the manner of the kings of Rome, having his chariot drawn by four milk-white horses; a distinction which did not fail to disgust the majority of the spectators, as they considered those as sacred, and more proper for doing honour to their g•i• then their generals.

His usual good fortune attended Camillus in another expedition against the Falisci; he routed their army, and besieged their capital city Falerii, which ••reatened a long and vigorous resistance. The re •uction of this little place would have been scarce w•rth mentioning in this scanty page, were it not for an action of the Roman general, that has done him more credit with posterity, than all his other triumphs ••••ed. A school-master, who had the care of the ••••ren belonging to the principal men in the city, having found means to decoy them into the Roman camp, offered to put them into the hands of Camillus, as the surest means of inducing the citizens to a speedy surrender. The general was struck with the treachery of a wretch, whose duty it was to protect innocence, and not to betray it; he for some time regarded the traitor with a stern air, but at last finding words, "Execrable villain," cried the noble Roman, ‘offer thy abominable proposals to creatures like thyself, and not to me; what though we be the enemies of your city, yet there are natural ties that bind all mankind, which should never be broken: there are duties required from us in war, as well as in peace: we fight not against an age of innocence, but against men; men who have used us ill indeed, but yet, whose crimes are virtues, when compared to thine. Against such base arts, let it be my duty to use only Roman arts, the arts of valour and of arms.’ So saying, he immediately ordered him to be stript, his hands tied behind him, and, in that ignominious manner, to be whipped into the town by his own scholars. This generous behaviour in Camillus effected more than his arms could do; the magistrates of the town immediately submitted to the senate, leaving to Camillus the conditions of their surrender, who only fined them a sum of money to satisfy his army, and received them under the protection and into the alliance of Rome.

Notwithstanding the veneration which the virtues of Camillus had excited abroad, they seemed but little adapted to bring over the respect of the turbulent tribunes at home, as they raised some fresh accusation against him every day. To the charge of being an opposer of their intended migration from Rome to Veii, they added that of his having concealed a part of the plunder of that city, particularly two brazen gates, for his own use, and appointed him a day, on which to appear before the people. Camillus finding the multitude exasperated against him upon many accounts, detesting their ingratitude, resolved not to await the ignominy of a trial; but, embracing his wife and children, prepared to depart from Rome. He had already passed as far as one of the gates, unattended, on his way, and unlamented. There he could suppress his indignation no longer, but turning his face to the Capitol, and lifting up his hands to Heaven, entreated all the Gods, that his country might one day be sensible of their injustice and ingratitude; and so saying, he past forward to take refuge at Ardea, a town at a little distance from Rome, where he afterwards learned, that he had been fined fifteen hundred asses by the tribunes at home.

The tribunes were not a little pleased with their triumph over this great man; but they soon had reason to repent their injustice, and to wish for the assistance of one, who alone was able to protect their country from ruin. For now a more terrible and redoubtable enemy began to make its appearance, than the Romans had ever yet encountered. The Gauls, a barbarous nation, had about two centuries before made an irruption from beyond the Alps, and settled in the northern parts of Italy. They had been invited over by the deliciousness of the wines, and the softness of the climate. Wherever they came, they dispossest the original inhabitants, as they were men of superior courage, extraordinary stature, fierce in aspect, barbarous in their manners, and prone to emigration. A body of these, wild from their original habitations, were now besieging Clusium, a city of Etruria, under the conduct of Brennus, their king. The inhabitants of Clusium, frightened at their numbers, and still more at their savage appearance, entreated the assistance, or, at least, the mediation of the Romans. The senate, who had long made it a maxim, never to refuse succour to the distressed, were willing, previously to send ambassadors to the Gauls, to dissuade them from their enterprize, and to shew the injustice of the irruption. Accordingly, three young senators were chosen out of the family of the Fabii, to manage the commission, who seemed more fitted for the field than the cabinet. Brennus received them with a degree of complaisance, that argued but little of the barbarian; and desiring to know the business of their embassy, was answered according to their instructions, that it was not customary in Italy, to make war, but on just grounds of provocation, and that they desired to know, what offence the citizens of Clusium had given to the king of the Gauls? To this Brennus sternly replied, that the rights of valiant men lay in their swords; that the Romans themselves had no right to the many cities they had conquered; and that he had particular reasons of resentment against the people of Clusium, as they refused to part with those lands, which they had neither hands to till, nor inhabitants to occupy. The Roman ambassadors, who were but little used to bear the language of a conqueror, for a while dissembled their resentment at this haughty reply; but, upon entering the besieged city, instead of acting as ambassadors, and forgetful of their sacred characters, headed the citizens in a sally against the besiegers. In this combat, Fabius Ambustus killed a Gaul with his own hand, but was discovered, while he was dispoiling him of his armour. A conduct so unjust and unbecoming, excited the resentment of Brennus, who, having made his complaint by an herald to the senate, and finding no redress, immediately broke up the siege, and marched away with his conquering army directly to Rome.

The countries through which the Gauls passed, in their rapid progress, gave up all hopes of safety upon their approach; being terrified at their vast numbers, the fierceness of their natures, and their dreadful preparation for war. But the rage and impetuosity of this wild people were directed only against Rome. They went on without doing the least injury in their march, still breathing vengeance only against the Romans; and a terrible engagement soon after ensued, in which the Romans were defeated near the river Allia, with the loss of near forty thousand men.

Rome, thus deprived of all succour, prepared for every extremity. The inhabitants endeavoured to hide themselves in some of the neighbouring towns, or resolved to await the conqueror's fury, and end their lives with the ruin of their native city. But, more particularly, the ancient senators, and priests, struck with a religious enthusiasm, on this occasion, resolved to devote their lives to atone for the crimes of the people, and, habited in their robes of ceremony, placed themselves in the Forum, on their ivory chairs. The Gauls, in the mean time, were giving a loose to their triumph, in sharing and enjoying the plunder of the enemies camp. Had they immediately marched to Rome upon gaining the victory, the Capitol itself had been taken; but they continued two days feasting upon the field of battle, and, with barbarous pleasure, exulting amidst their slaughtered enemies. On the third day after the victory, the easiness of which much amazed the Gauls, Brennus appeared with all his forces before the city. He was at first much surprised to find the gates wide open to receive him, and the walls defenceless; so that he began to impute the unguarded situation of the place, to a stratagem of the Romans. After proper precaucautions he entered the city, and marching into the Forum, there beheld the ancient senators sitting in their order, observing a profound silence, unmoved and undaunted. The splendid habits, the majestic gravity, and the venerable looks of these old men, who had all, in their time, borne the highest offices of the state, awed the barbarous enemy into reverence▪ they took them to be the tutelar deities of the place, and began to offer blind adoration, till one, more forward than the rest, put forth his hand to stroak the beard of Papyruis; an insult the noble Roman could not endure, but lifting up his ivory scepter, struck the savage to the ground. This seemed as a signal for general slaughter. Papyrius fell first, and all the rest shared his fate, without mercy or distinction. Thus the fierce invaders pursued their slaughter for three days successively, sparing neither sex nor age, and then setting fire to the city, burnt every house to the ground.

All the hopes of Rome were now placed in the Capitol; every thing without that fortress, was but an extensive scene of misery, desolation, and despair. Brennus first summoned it, with threats, to surrender, but in vain; he then resolved to besiege it in form, and hemmed it round with his army. Nevertheless, the Romans repelled his attempts with great bravery; despair had supplied them with that perseverance and vigour, which they seemed to want when in prosperity.

In the mean white, Brennus carried on the siege with extreme ardour. He hoped, in time, to starve the garrison into a capitulation; but they, sensible of his intent, although they were in actual want, caus¦ed several loaves to be thrown into his camp, to convince him of the futility of such expectations. His hopes sailing in this, were soon after revived, when some of his soldiers came to inform him, that they had discovered some foot steps which led up to the rock, and by which they supposed the Capitol might be surprised. Accordingly, a chosen body of his men were ordered by night upon this dangerous service, which they with great labour and difficulty almost effected; they were now got upon the very wall; the Roman centinel was fast asleep; their dogs within gave no signal, and all promised an instant victory, when the garrison was awaked by the gabbling of some sacred geese, that had been kept in the temple of Juno. The besieged soon perceived the imminence of their danger, and each snatched the weapon he could instantly find, ran to oppose the assailants. Manlius, a patrician of acknowledged bravery, was the first who exerted all his strength, and inspired courage by his example. He boldly mounted the rampart, and, at one effort, threw two Gauls headlong down the precipice: others soon came to his assistance, and the walls were cleared of the enemy, in a space of time shorter than that employed in the recital.

From this time forward, the hopes of the barbarians began to decline, and Brennus wished for an opportunity of raising the siege with credit. His soldiers had often conferences with the besieged, while upon duty, and the proposals for an accommodation were wished for by the common men, before the chiefs thought of a congress. At length the commanders on both sides came to an agreement, that the Gauls should immediately quit the city and territories of Rome, upon being paid a thousand pounds weight of gold. This agreement being confirmed by oath on either side, the gold was brought forth, but, upon weighing, the Gauls attempted fraudulently to kick the beam, of which the Romans complaining, Brennus insultingly cast his sword and belt into the scale, crying out, that the only portion of the vanquished was to suffer. By this reply, the Romans saw that they were at the victor's mercy; and knew it was in vain to expostulate against any conditions he should be pleased to impose. But in this very juncture, and while they were thus debating upon the payment, it was told them, that Camillus, their old general, was at the head of a large army, hastening to their relief, and entering the gates of Rome. Camillus actually appeared soon after, and entering the place of controversy, with the air of one who was resolved not to suffer imposition, demanded the cause of the contest; of which being informed, he ordered the gold to be taken and carried back to the Capitol, "For it has ever been," cried he, ‘the manner with us Romans, to ransom our country, not with gold, but with iron; it is I only that am to make peace, as being the dictator of Rome, and my sword alone shall purchase it.’ Upon this, a battle ensued, in which the Gauls were entirely routed; and such a slaughter followed, that the Roman territories were soon cleared of their formidable invaders. Thus, was Rome, by the bravery of Camillus cleared of its foes.

The city being one continued heap of ruins, except the Capitol, and the greatest number of its former inhabitants having gone to take refuge in Veii, the tribunes of the peop•e urged for the removal of the poor remains of Rome to Veii, where they might have houses to shelter, and walls to defend them. On this occasion, Camillus, attempted to appease them, with all the arts of persuasion; observing, that it was unworthy of them, both as Romans and as men, to desert the venerable seats of their ancestors, where they had been encouraged, by repeated marks of divine approbation, to remove to and inhabit a city which they had conquered, and which wanted even the good fortune of defending itself. By these and such like remonstrances, he prevailed upon the people to go contentedly to work; and Rome soon began to rise from its ashes.

We have already seen the bravery of Manlius in defending the Capitol, and saving the last remains of Rome For this the people were by no means ungrateful, having built him an house near the place where his valour was so conspicuous, and having appointed him a public fund for his support. But he aspired at being not only equal to Camillus, but to be sovereign of Rome. With this view he laboured to ingratiate himself with the populace, paid their debts, and railed at the patricians, whom he called their oppressors. The senate was not ignorant of his discourses or his designs, and created Cornelius Cossus dictator, with a view to curb the ambition of Manlius. The dictator soon finished an expedition against the Volscians, by a victory; and upon his return, called Manlius to an account, for his conduct. Manlius, however, was too much the darling of the populace, to be affected by the power of Cossus, who was obliged to lay down his office, and Manlius was carried from confinement in triumph through the city. This success only served to enflame his ambition. He now began to talk of a division of the lands among the people; insinuated that there should be no distinctions in the state; and, to give weight to his discourses, always appeared at the head of a large body of the dregs of the people, whom his largesses had made his followers. The city being thus filled with sedition and clamour, the senate had recourse to another expedient, and to oppose the power of Camillus to that of the demagogue. Camillus accordingly being made one of the military tribunes, appointed Manlius a day to answer for his life. The place in which he was tried was near the Capitol, where, when he was accused of sedition, and of aspiring at sovereignty, he only turned his eyes and, pointing thither, put them in mind of what he had there done for his country. The multitude, whose compassion or whose justice seldom springs from rational motives, refused to condemn him, while he pleaded in sight of the Capitol; but when he was brought from thence to the Peteline grove, and where the Capitol was no longer to be seen, they condemned him to be thrown headlong from the Tarpeian rock. Thus, the place which had been the theatre of his glory, became that of his punishment and infamy. His house, in which his conspiracies had been secretly carried on, was ordered to be razed to the ground, and his family were forbidden ever after to assume the name of Manlius.

In this manner therefore, the Romans went gradually forward, with a mixture of turbulence and superstition within their walls, and successful enterprizes without. With what an implicit obedience they submitted to their pontiffs, we have already seen in many instances; and how far they might be impelled, even to encounter death itself, at their command, will evidently appear from the behaviour of Curtius about this time; who, upon the opening of a gulph in the Forum, which the augurs affirmed, would never close up till the most precious things in Rome were thrown into it, this heroic man leaped with his horse and armour boldly into the midst, saying, that nothing was more truly valuable than patriotism and military virtue. The gulph, say the historians, closed immediately upon this, and Curtius was never seen after.

CHAP. XIII. From the wars of the Samnites and the wars with Pyrrhus, to the beginning of the first Punic war, when the Romans first went out of Italy.

THE Romans having now triumphed over the Sabines, the Etrurians, the Latins, the Hernici, the Aequi, and the Volscians, began to look for greater conquests. They accordingly turned their arms against the Samnites, a people about an hundred miles east from the city, descended from the Sabines, and inhabiting a large tract of southern Italy, which at this day makes a considerable part of the kingdom of Naples. Valerius Corvus and Cornelius were the two consuls, to whose care it first sell to manage this dreadful contention between the rival states.

Valerius was one of the greatest commanders of his time; he was surnamed Corvus, from a strange circumstance of being assisted by a crow in a single combat, in which he fought and killed a Gaul, of a gigantic stature. To his colleague's care it was consigned to lead an army to Samnium, the enemies capital, while Corvus was sent to relieve Capua, the capital of the Campanians. Never was captain more fitted for command than he. To an habit naturally robust and athletic, he jointed the gentlest manners; he was the fiercest, and yet the most good-natured man in the army; and, while the meanest centinel was his companion, no man kept them more strictly to their duty; but what completes his character, he constantly endeavoured to preserve his dignities, by the same arts by which he gained them. Such soldiers as the Romans then were, hardened by their late adversity, and led on by such a general, were unconquerable The Samnites were the bravest men they ever yet encountered, and the contention between the two nations, was managed on both sides with the most determined resolution. But the fortune of Rome prevailed; the Samnites at length fled, averring, that they were not able to withstand the fierce looks and the fire-darting eyes of the Romans. The other consul, however, was not at first so fortunate; for having unwarily led his army into a de ••••, he was in danger of being cut off, had not Decius, a tribune of the army, possessed himself of an 〈◊〉 which commanded the enemy; so that the Samnites being attacked on either side, were defeated with great slaughter; not less than thirty thousand of them being left dead upon the field of battle.

Sometime after this victory, the soldiers who were 〈◊〉 at Capua mutinying, forced Quintius, an old and eminent soldier, who was then residing in the country, to be their leader; and, conducted by their rage, more than their general, came within eight miles of the city. So terrible an enemy, almost at the gates, not a little alarmed the senate, who immediately created Valerius Corvus, dictator, and sent him forth with another army to oppose them. The two armies were now drawn up against each other, while fathers and sons beheld themselves prepared to engage in opposite causes. Any other general but Corvus would, perhaps, have brought this civil war to an extremity; but he knowing his influence among the soldiery, instead of going forward to meet the mutineers in an hostile manner, went with the most cordial friendship to embrace and expostulate with his old acquaintances. His conduct had the desired effect. Quintius, as their speaker, only desired to have their defection from their duty forgiven; and as for himself, as he was innocent of their conspiracy, he had no reason to sollicit pardon for his offences. Thus, this defection, which at first threatened such dangers to Rome, was repaired by the prudence and moderation of a general, whose ambition it was to be gentle to his friends, and formidable only to his enemies.

A war between the Romans and the Latins follow¦ed soon after, but as their habits, arms, and language, were the same, the most exact discipline was necessary, to prevent confusion in the engagement. Orders, therefore, were issued by Manlius, the consul, that no soldier should leave his ranks upon whatever provocation; and that he should be certainly put to death, who should offer to do otherwise. With these injunctions, both armies were drawn out in array, and ready to begin, when Metius, the general of the enemies cavalry, pushed forward from his lines, and challenged any knight in the Roman army, to single combat. For some time there was • general pause, no soldier offering to disobey his orders, till Titus Manlius, the consul's own son, burning with shame to see the whole body of the Romans intimidated, boldly singled out against his adversary. The soldiers on both sides, for a while, suspended the general engagement, to be spectators of this fierce encounter. The two champions drove their horses against each other with great violence: Metius wounded his adversary's horse in the neck; but Manlius, with better fortune, killed that of Metius. The Latin being thus fallen to the ground, for a while attempted to support himself upon his shield; but the Roman followed his blows with so much force, that he laid him dead, as he was endeavouring to rise; and then despoiling him of his armour, returned in triumph to the consul, his father's tent, where he was preparing and giving orders relative to the engagement. Howsoever he might have been applauded by his fellow-soldiers, being as yet doubtful of the reception he should find from his father, he came, with hesitation, to lay the enemy's spoils at his feet, and with a modest air insinuated, that what he did, was entirely from a spirit of hereditary virtue. But he was soon dreadfully made sensible of his error, when his father, turning away, ordered him to be led publicly forth before the army. There being brought forward, the consul, with a stern countenance, and yet with tears, spoke as follows: ‘Titus Manlius, as thou hast regarded neither the dignity of the consulship, nor the commands of thy father; as thou hast destroyed military discipline, and set a pattern of disobedience by thy example, thou has reduced me to the deplorable extremity of sacrificing my son or my country. But let us not hesitate in this dreadful alternative; a thousand lives were well lost in such a cause: nor do I think, that thou thyself wilt refuse to die, when thy country is to reap the advantage of thy sufferings. Go, lictor, bind him, and let his death be our future example.’ The whole army was struck with horror at this unnatural mandate; fear, for a while, kept them in suspense; but when they saw their young champion's head struck off, and his blood streaming upon the ground, they could no longer contain their execrations, and their groans His dead body was carried forth without the camp, and being adorned with the spoils of the vanquished enemy, was buried with all the pomp of military distress.

In the mean time, the battle joined with mutual fury; and as the two armies had often sought under the same leaders, they combated with all the animosity of a civil war. The Latins chiefly depended on their bodily strength; the Romans, on their invincible courage and conduct. Forces so nearly matched, seemed only to require the protection of their deities, to turn the scale of victory; and, in fact, the augurs had foretold, that whatever part of the Roman army should be distrest, the commander of that part should devote himself for his country, and die as a sacrifice to the immortal gods. Manlius commanded the right wing; and Decius led on the left. Both sides fought, for some time, with doubtful success, as their courage was equal; but, after a time, the left wing of the Roman army began to give ground. It was then that Decius, who commanded there, resolved to devote himself for his country, and to offer his own life, as an atonement to save his army. Thus determined, he called out to Manlius with a loud voice, and demanded his instructions, as he was the chief pontiff, how to devote himself, and the form of the words he should use. By his directions, therefore, being cloathed in a long robe, his head covered, and his arms stretched forward, standing upon a javelin, he devoted himself to the celestial and infernal gods, for the safety of Rome. Then arming himself, and mounting on horseback, he drove furiously into the midst of the enemies, carrying terror and consternation wherever he came, till he fell covered with wounds. In the mean time the Roman army considered his devouting himself in this manner, as an assurance of success: nor was the superstition of the Latins less powerfully influenced by his resolution, a total rout began to ensue; the Romans pressed them on every side, and so great was the carnage, that scarce a fourth part of the enemy survived the defeat. This was the last battle of any consequence, that the Latins had with the Romans; they were forced to beg a peace upon hard conditions, and two years after, their strongest city, Paedum, being taken, they were brought under an entire submission to the Roman power.

A signal disgrace which the Romans sustained about this time in their contest with the Samnites, made a pause in their usual good fortune, and turned the scale for a while, in the enemies favour. The senate having denied the Samnites peace, Pontius, their general, was resolved to gain by stratagem, what he had frequently lost by force. Accordingly, leading his army into a defile, called Claudium, and taking possession of all its outlets, he sent ten of his soldiers, habited like shepherds, with directions to ••ow themselves in the way the Romans were to march. Exactly to his wishes, the Roman consul met them, and taking them for what they appeared, •••anded the route the Samnite army had taken: they, with seeming indifference, replied, that they were gone to Luceria, a town in Apulia, and were then actually besieging it. The Roman general, not suspecting the stratagem that was laid against him, marched directly by the shortest road, which lay through the defiles, to relieve the city; and was not undeceived, till he saw his army surrounded, and blocked up on every side. Pontius, thus having the Romans entirely in his power, first obliged the army to pass under the yoke, having been previously stript of all but their garments; he then stipulated, that they should wholly quit the territories of the Samnites, and that they should continued to live upon terms of former confederacy. The Romans were constrained to submit to this ignominious treaty, and marched into Capua disarmed, half-naked, and burning with a desire of retrieving their lost honour. When the army arrived at Rome, the whole city was most surprisingly afflicted at their shameful return; nothing but grief and resentment was to be seen, and the whole city was put into mourning.

But this was a transitory calamity, the state had suffered a diminution of its glory, but not of its power. The war was carried on as usual, for many years: the power of the Samnites declining every day, while that of the Romans gathered fresh confidence from every victory. Under the conduct of Papyrius Cursor, who was at different times consul and dictator, repeated triumphs were gained. Fabius Maximus also had his share in the glory of conquering them; and Decius, the son of that Decius, whom we saw devoting himself for his country, about forty years before, followed the example of his noble father, and, rushing into the midst of the enemy, saved the lives of his countrymen with the loss of his own.

The Samnites being us driven to the most extreme distress, as they were unable to defend themselves, they were obliged to call in the assistance of a foreign power, and have recourse to Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, to save them from impending ruin. Pyrrhus, a king of great courage, ambition, and power, had always kept the example of Alexander, his great predecessor, before his eyes, promised to come to their assistance; and, in the mean time, dispatched over a body of three thousand men, under the command of Cineus, an experienced soldier, and a scholar of the great orator Demosthenes. Nor did he himself remain long behind, but soon after put to sea with three thousand horse, twenty thousand foot, and twenty elephants, in which the commanders of that time began to place very great confidence. However only a small part of these great preparations arrived in Italy with him, for many of his ships were dispersed, and some were totally lost in a tempest. Upon his arrival at Tarentum, his first care was to reform the people he came to succour; for observing a 〈◊〉 dissolution of manners in this luxurious city, and that the inhabitants were rather occupied with the pleasures of bathing, feasting, and dancing, than the care of preparing for war, he gave orders to have all their places of public entertainment shut up, and that they should be restrained in a•l such amusements as rendered soldiers unfit for battle. In the ••an time, the Romans did til• that prudence could suggest, to oppose so formidable an enemy; and the 〈◊〉 L••vinus was sent with a numerous army to 〈◊〉 his progress. Pyrrhus, though his whole 〈◊〉 was not yet arrived, drew out to meet him; 〈◊〉 p•eviously sent an ambassador, desiring to be •ermit••d to mediate between the Romans and the •••ple of T•rentum. To this Laevinus returned for 〈◊〉, that he neither esteemed him as a mediator, 〈…〉 him as an enemy; and then leading the ••bassador through the Roman camp, desired him to 〈◊〉 diligently what he saw, and to report the re ••• to his master. In consequence of this, both 〈◊〉 •pproaching, pitched their tents in sight of 〈…〉 upon the opposite banks of the river 〈◊〉 Pyrrhus was always extremely careful in di • 〈◊〉 the situation of his own camp, and in observing 〈◊〉 of the enemy. It was there, that walking a••ng the banks of the river, and surveying the Roman method of encamping, he was heard to observe, ‘That these barbarians seemed to be no way barbarous, and he should too soon find their actions equal to their resolution.’ In the mean time, ordering a body of men along the banks of the river be placed them in readiness to oppose the Romans, in case they should attempt to ford it before his whole army was brought together. Things turned out according to his expectations; the consul, with an impetuosity that marked his inexperience, gave orders for passing the river, where it was fordable; and the advanced-guard having attempted to oppose him in vain, was obliged to retire to the main body of the army. Pyrrhus being apprised of the enemies attempt, at first hoped to cut off their cavalry, before they could be reinforced by the foot, that were not as yet got over, and led on in person a chosen body of horse against them. The Roman legions having, with much difficulty, advanced across the river, the engagement became general; the Greeks fought with a consciousness of their former fame, and the Romans with a desire of gaining fresh glory; mankind had never before seen two such differently disciplined armies opposed to each other, nor is it to this day determined, whether the Greek phalanx o• the Roman legion were preferable. The combat was long in suspense; the Romans had seven times repulsed the enemy, and were as often driven back themselves; but at length, while the success seemed doubtful, Pyrrhus sent his elephants into the midst of the engagement, and these turned the scale of victory in his favour. The Romans, who had never before seen creatures of such magnitude, were terrified not only with their intrepid fierceness, but the castles that were built upon their backs, filled with armed men. It was then that Pyrrhus saw the day was his own; and sending in his Thessalian cavalry to charge the enemy in disorder, the rout became general. A dreadful slaughter of the Romans ensued fifteen thousand men being killed on the spot, and eighteen hundred taken prisoners. Nor were the conquerors in a much better state than the vanquished, Pyrrhus himself being wounded, and thirteen thousand of his forces slain. Night coming on put an end to the slaughter on both sides, and Pyrrhus was heard to cry out, That one such victory more would ruin his whole army. The next day, as he walked to view the field of battle, he could not help regarding with admiration, the bodies of the Romans which were slain: upon seeing them all with their wounds before; their countenances, even in death, marked with noble resolution, and a sternness that awed him into respect; he was heard to cry out, in the true spirit of a military adventurer, ‘O with with what ease could I conquer the world, had I the Romans for soldiers, or had they me for their king!’

Pyrrhus, after this victory, was still unwilling to drive them to an extremity, and considered, that it was best treating with an humbled enemy; he resolved therefore to send his friend Cineas, the orator, to negociate a peace; of whom he often asserted, that he had won more towns by the eloquence of Cineas, •han by his own arms. Cineas, with all his art, •ound the Romans incapable of being seduced, either by bribery, private, or public persuasion.

Being frustrated, therefore, in his expectations, he •eturned to his master, extolling both the virtues and •he grandeur of the Romans. The senate, he said, •ppeared a reverend assembly of demi-gods; and the ••y, a temple for their reception. Of this Prryhus •oon after became sensible, by an embassy from Rome, concerning the ransom and exchange of prisoners. At the head of this venerable deputation was Fabri •ius, an ancient senator, who had long been a pat •ern to his countrymen of the most extreme poverty, •oined to the most chearful content. Pyrrhus received this celebrated old man with great kindness, and, willing to try how far fame had been just in his favour, offered him rich presents; which, however, the Roman refused. The day after, he was desirous of examining the equality of his temper, and ordered one of his elephants to be placed behind the tapestry, which, upon a signal given, raised its trunk above the ambassador's head, at the same time using other arts to intimidate him. But Fabricius, with a countenance no way changing, smiled upon the king observing, that he looked with an equal eye on the terrors of this day, as he had upon the allurement• of the preceding. Pyrrhus, pleased to find so much virtue in one he had considered as a barbarian, wa• willing to grant him the only favour which he knew could make him happy: he released the Roman prisoners, entrusting them to Fabricius alone, upo• his promise, that, in case the senate were determine• to continue the war, he might reclaim them when ever he thought proper.

By this time the Roman army was reco¦vered from its late defeat, and Sulpicius an• Decius, the consuls for the following yea• were placed at its head. The panic which had for¦merly seized it from the elephants, now began a• wear off: and both armies met near the city •sc•¦lum, both pretty nearly equal in numbers, bein• about forty thousand strong; and here again, after long and obstinate fight, the Grecian disciplin• prevailed. The Romans, being pressed on eve• s•de, particularly by the elephants, were obliged • retire to their camp, leaving six thousand men dea•• upon the field of battle. But the enemy had no gre•• reason to boast of their triumph, as they had fo••• thousand slain; so that Pyrrbus replied to one of • soldiers, who was congratulating him upon his vi•¦tory, ‘One such triumph more, and I shall be u•¦done.’

This battle finished the campaign; the next season began with equal vigour on both sides, Pyrrhus having received new succours from home. While the two armies were approaching, and yet but at a small distance from each other, a letter was brought to old Fabricius, the Roman general, from the king's physician, importing, that, for a proper reward, he would take him off by poison, and thus rid the Romans of a powerful enemy and a dangerous war. Fabricius felt all the honest indignation at this base proposal, that was consistent with his former character, he communicated it to his colleague, and instantly gave it as his opinion, that Pyrrhus should be informed of the treachery that was plotted against him. Accordingly, letters were dispatched for that purpose, informing Pyrrhus of the affair, and alledging the unfortunate choice of his friends and enemies. That he had trusted and promoted murderers, while he carried his resentment against the generous and the brave Pyrrhus now began to find that th•se bold barbarians were by degrees schooled into refinement, and would not suffer him to be their superior even in generosity: he received the message with as much amazement at their candour, as indignation at his physician's treachery. ‘Admirable Fabricius!’ cried he, ‘it would be as easy to turn the sun from its course, as thee from the paths of honour.’ Then making the proper enquiry amongst his servants, and having discovered the treason, he ordered his physician to be executed. However, not to be outdone in magnanimity, he immediately sent to Rome all his prisoners without ransom, and again desired to negotiate a peace. The Romans, on the other hand, refused him peace, but upon the same conditions they had offered before.

So that, after an interval of two years, Pyrrhus, having encreased his army by new levies, sent one part of his army to oppose the march of Lentulus, the Roman consul, while he himself went to attack Curius Dentatus the other in command, before his colleague could come up. His principal aim was to suprise the enemy by night; but unfortunately passing through woods, and his lights failing him, his men lost their way, so that at the approach of morning, he saw himself in sight of the Roman camp, with the enemy drawn out ready to receive him. The vanguard of both armies soon met, in which the Romans had the advantage. Soon after a general engagement ensuing, Pyrrhus finding the balance of the victory turning still against him, had once more recourse to his elephants. These, however, the Romans were then too well acquainted with to feel any vain terrors from; and having found that fire was the most effectual means to repel them, they caused a number of balls to be made, composed of flax and rosin, which were thrown against them as they approached the ranks. The elephants, thus rendered furious by the flame, and as boldly opposed by the soldiers, could no longer be brought on; but ran back upon their own army, bearing down the ranks, and filling all places with terror and confusion. Thus victory, at length, declared in favour of Rome: Pyrrhus, in vain, attempted to stop the flight and slaughter of his troops; he lost not only twenty-three thousand of his best soldiers, but his camp was also taken. This served as a new lesson to the Romans, who were ever open to improvement: they had formerly pitched their tents without order; but by this new capture, they were taught to measure out their ground, and fortify the whole with a trench; so that many of their succeeding victories are to be ascribed to their improved method of encamping.

Pyrrhus thus finding all hopes fruitless, he resolved to leave Italy, where he found only desperate enemies and faithless allies: accordingly, calling together the Tarentines, he informed them, that he had received assurances from Greece, of speedy assistance, and desiring them to wait the event with tranquillity, the night following embarked his troops, and returned undisturbed into his native kingdom with the remains of his shattered forces, leaving a garrison in Tarentum merely to save appearances, and, in this manner ended the war with Pyr•hus, after six years continuance.

As for the poor luxurious Tarentines, who were the original promoters of this war, they soon began to find a worse enemy in the garrison that was left for their defence, than in the Romans who attacked them from without. The hatred between them and Milo, who commanded their citadel for Pyrrhus, was become so great, that nothing but the fear of their old inveterate enemies, the Romans, could equal it. In this distress they applied to the Carthaginians, who with a large fleet came and blocked up the port of Tarentum; so that this unfortunate people, once famous through Italy for their refinements and pleasures, now saw themselves contended for by three different armies, without the choice of a conqueror. At length, however, the Romans found means to bring over the garrison to their interest; after which, they easily became masters of the city, and demolished its walls, granting the inhabitants liberty and protection.

CHAP. XIV. From the beginning of the first Punic war to the beginning of the second, when the Romans began to grow powerful by sea.

THE Romans having destroyed all rival pretensions at home, began to pant after foreign conquests. The Carthaginians were at that time in possession of the greatest part of Sicily, and, like the Romans, only wanted an opportunity of embroiling the natives, in order to become masters of the whole island. This opportunity at length offered. Hiero, king of Syracuse, one of the states of that island, which was as yet unconquered, entreated their aid against the Mamertines, a little people of the same country, and they sent him supplies both by sea and land. The Mamertines, on the other hand, to shield off impending ruin, put themselves under the protection of Rome. The Romans, not thinking the Mamer ••••• worthy of the name of allies, instead of pro ••ding to assist them, boldly declared war against Carthage; alledging as a reason, the assistance which Carthage had lately sent to the southern parts of Italy against the Romans. In this manner a war was declared between these two powerful states, both grown too great to continue patient spectators of each others encrease.

Carthage, a colony of the Phoenicians, was built on the coast of Africa, near the place where Tunis now stands, about an hundred and thirty-seven years before the foundation of Rome. As it had been long growing into power, so it had extended its dominions all along the coasts. But its chief strength lay in its fleets and commerce: thus circumstanced, these two great powers began what is called the first Punic war. The Carthaginians, possessed of gold and silver, which might be exhausted; the Romans famous for perseverance, patriotism, and poverty, which seemed to gather strength by every defeat.

But there seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle to the ambitious views of Rome, as they had no fleet, or at least what deserved that title; while the Carthaginians had the entire command at sea, and kept all the maritime towns under obedience. In such a situation, any people but the Romans would have rested contented, under disadvantages which nature seemed to have imposed; but nothing could conqueror or intimidate them. They began to apply themselves to maritime affairs; and, though without shipwrights to build, or seamen to navigate a fleet, they resolved to surmount every obstacle with inflexible perseverance. A Carthaginian vessel happened to be in a storm driven ashore, and this was sufficient to serve as a model. The consul Duillius was the first who ventured to sea with his new constructed armament; and, though far inferior to the enemy in the management of his fleet, yet he gained the first naval victory, the Carthaginians losing fifty o• their ships, and the undisturbed sovereignty of the sea, which they valued more.

But the conquest of Sicily, was only to be obtaintained by humbling the power of Carthage at home. For this reason, the senate resolved to carry the war i••• Africa itself, and accordingly they sent Regulus and Manlius, with a fleet a three hundred sail, to make the invasion. Regulus was reckoned the most consummate warrior that Rome could then produce; and a professed example of frugal severity. His patriotism was still greater than his temperance; all the private passions seemed extinguished in him, or they were all swallowed up in one great ruling affection, the love of his country. The two generals set •a• with their fleet, which was the greatest that had ever yet left an Italian port, carrying an hundred and forty thousand men. They were met by the Carthaginians, with a fleet as powerful, and men better used to the sea. While the fight continued, rather between the ships than the men, at a distance, the Carthaginians seemed successful; but when the Romans came to grapple with them, the difference between a mercenary army, and one that fought for fame, was apparent. The resolution of the Romans was crowned with success; the enemies fleet were dispersed, and fifty-four of their vessels taken. The consequence of this victory was an immediate descent upon the coasts of Africa, and the capture of the city Clupea; together with twenty thousand men who were made prisoners of war.

The senate being informed of these great successes, and applied to for fresh instructions, commanded Manlius back to Italy, in order to superintend the Sicilian war; and directed that Regulus should continue in Africa, to prosecute his victories there.

A battle ensued, in which Carthage was once more defeated, and some of its best troops were cut off. This fresh victory contributed to throw them into the utmost despair; more than eighty of their towns submitted to the Romans. In this distress, the Carthaginians, destitute of generals at home, were obliged to send to Lacedemon, offering the command of their armies to Xantippus, a general of great expe•ience, who undertook to conduct them.

This general began by giving the magistrates proper instructions for levying their men: he assured them, that their armies were hitherto overthrown, not by the strength of the enemy, but by the ignorance of their own generals; he therefore only required a ready obedience to his orders, and assured them of an easy victory. The whole city seemed once more revived from despondence, by the exhortations of a single stranger; and soon, from hope, grew into confidence. This was the spirit the Grecian general wished to excite in them; so that when he saw them thus ripe for the engagement, he joyfully took the field. The Lacedemonian made the most skilful disposition of his forces; he placed his cavalry in the wings; he disposed the elephants at proper intervals, behind the line of the heavy-armed infantry; and, bringing up the light-armed troops before, he ordered them to retire through the line of infantry, after they had discharged their weapons. At length both armies engaging, after a long and obstinate resistance, the Romans were overthrown with dreadful slaughter; the greatest part of their army being destroyed, and Regulus himself taken prisoner. Several other distresses of the Romans followed soon after this. They lost their whole fleet in a storm; and Agrigentum, their principal town in Sicily, was taken by Karthalo, the Carthaginian general. They undertook to build a new fleet, which also shared the fate of the former; the mariners, as yet unacquainted with the Mediterranean shores, drove it upon quicksands; and, soon after, the greatest part perished in a storm.

Mean time, the Carthaginians, being thus successful, were desirous of a new treaty for peace, hoping to have better terms than those insisted upon by Regulus. For this purpose they supposed, that he, whom they had now for four years kept in a dungeon, confined and chained, would be a proper solicitor. It was expected, that, being wearied with imprisonment and bondage, he would gladly endeavour to p••••de his countrymen to a discontinuance of the war, ••ich only prolonged his captivity. He was accordingly sent with their ambassadors to Rome, but with a •••mise, previously exacted from him, to return 〈◊〉 of being unsuccessful. He was even given to understand, that his life depended upon the success of his negociation.

When this old general, together with the ambassadors of Carthage, approached Rome, numbers of his friends came out to meet and congratulate his return. Their acclamations resounded through the city; but Regulus refused, with settled melancholy, to enter the gates. It was in vain that he was entreated on every side to visit once more his little dwelling, and share in that joy which his return had inspired. He persisted in saying, that he was now but a slave belonging to the Carthaginians, and unfit to partake in the liberal honours of his country. The senate assembling without the walls, as usual, to give audience to the ambassadors, Regulus opened his commission as he had been directed by the Carthaginian council, and their ambassadors seconded his proposals. The senate were, by this time, themselves weary of a war, which had been protracted above eight years, and were no way disinclinable to a peace. It only remained for Regulus himself to give his opinion, who, when it came to his turn to speak, to the surprize of all the world, gave his voice for continuing the war. So unexpected an advice not a little disturbed the senate: they pitied, as well as admired a man who had used such eloquence against his private interest, and could 〈◊〉 conclude upon a measure which was to terminate in his ruin. But he soon relieved their embarrasment by breaking off the treaty, and by rising in order to return to his bonds and confinement. It was in vain that the senate and all his dearest friends entreated his stay; he still repressed their solicitations. Marcia his wife, with her little children, filled the city with her lamentations, and vainly entreated to be permitted to see him: he still obstinately persisted in keeping his promise; and, though sufficiently apprised of the tortures that awaited his return, without embracing his family, or taking leave of his friends, he departed with the ambassadors for Carthage.

Nothing could equal the fury and the disappointment of the Carthaginians, when they were informed by their ambassadors, that Regulus, instead of hastening a peace, had given his opinion for continuing the war. They accordingly prepared to punish his conduct with the most studied tortures. First, his eye-lids were cut off, and then he was remanded to prison. He was, after some days, again brought out and exposed with his face opposite the burning sun. At last, when malice was fatigued with studying all the arts of torture, he was put into a barrel stuck full of nails that pointed inwards, and in this painful position he continued till he died.

Both sides now took up arms with more than former animosity. At length the Roman perseverance was crowned with success, one victory followed on the back of another. Fabius Buteo, the consul, once more shewed them the way to naval victory, by defeating a large squadron of the enemies ships; but Lutatius Catulus gained a victory still more complete, in which the power of Carthage seemed totally destroyed at sea, by the loss of an hundred and twenty ships, according to the smallest computation. This loss brought the Carthaginians to sue for peace, which Rome thought proper to grant; but, still inflexible in its demands, exacted the same conditions which Regulus had formerly offered at the gates of Carthage. These were, that they should lay down a thousand talents of silver, to defray the charge of the war; and should pay two thousand two hundred more, in ten years time: that they should quit Sicily, with all such islands as they possessed near it: that they should never make war against the allies of Rome, or come with any vessels of war within the Roman dominions: and lastly, that all their prisoners and deserters should be delivered up without ransom. To these hard conditions, the Carthaginians, now exhausted, readily subscribed; and thus ended the first Punic war, which had lasted twenty-four years, and, in some measure, had drained both nations of every resource to begin another.

CHAP. XV. From the end of the first Punic war to the end of the second.

THE war being ended between the Carthaginians and Romans, a profound peace ensued, and, in about six years after, the temple of Janus was shut for the second time since the foundation of the city. The Romans being thus in friendship with all nations, had an opportunity of turning to the arts of peace: they now began to have a relish for poetry, the first liberal art which rises in every civilized nation, and the first also that decays. Hitherto they had been entertained only with the rude drolleries of their lowest buffoons: they had sports called Fescennini, in which a few debauched actors made their own parts, while raillery and smut supplied the place of humour. To these a composition of a higher kind succeeded which they called satire; which was a kind of dramatic poem, in which the characters of the great were particularly pointed out, and made an object of derision to the vulgar. After these, came tragedy and comedy, which were borrowed from the Greeks; and, indeed, the first dramatic poet of Rome, whose name was Livius Andronicus, was by birth a Grecian. The instant these finer kinds of composition appeared, this great people rejected their former impurities with disdain. From thenceforward they laboured upon the Grecian model; and, though they were never able to rival their masters in dramatic composition, they soon surpassed them in many of the more soothing kinds of poetry. Elegiac, pastoral, and didactic compositions, began to assume new beauties in the Roman language; and satire, not that rude kind of dialogue already mentioned, but a nobler sort, invented by Lucilius, was all their own.

While they were thus admitting the arts of peace, they were not unmindful of making fresh preparations for war: all intervals of ease seemed rather to give fresh vigour for new designs, than to relax their former intrepidity. The Illyrians were the first people upon whom they tried their strength, after some continuance of peace. That nation, which had long plundered the merchants of the Mediterranean with impunity, happened to make depredations upon some of the trading subjects of Rome: this being complained of to Teuta, the queen of the country, she, instead of granting redress, ordered the ambassador, that was sent to demand restitution, to be murdered. A war ensued, in which the Romans were victorious; most of the Illyric towns were surrendered to the consuls, and a peace at last concluded, by which the greatest part of the country was ceded to Rome; a yearly tribute was exacted for the rest, and a prohibition added, that the Illyrians should not sail beyond the river Lissus, with more than two barks, and those unarmed.

The Gauls were the next people that incurred the displeasure of the Romans. Supposing a time of peace, when the armies were disbanded, a proper season for new irruptions, this barbarous people invited fresh forces from beyond the Alps, and entering Etruria, wasted all with fire and sword, till they came within about three days journey of Rome. A pr•etor and a consul were sent to oppose them, who, now instructed in the improved arts of war, were enabled to surround the Gauls, who still retained their primaeval barbarity. It was in vain that those hardy troops, who had nothing but their courage to protect them, formed two fronts to oppose their adversaries; their naked bodies and undisciplined forces were unable to withstand the shock of an enemy completely armed, and skilled in military evolutions. A miserable slaughter ensued, in which forty thousand were killed, and ten thousand taken prisoners. This victory was followed by another gained over them by Marcellus, in which he killed Viridomarus, their king, with his own hand, and gained the third royal spoils that were yet obtained at Rome. These conquests forced them to beg a peace, the conditions of which served greatly to enlarge the empire. Thus the Romans went on with success; they had now totally recovered their former losses, and only wanted an enemy worthy of their arms, to begin a new war.

The Carthaginians had only made a peace because they were no longer able to continue the war. They, therefore, took the earliest opportunity of breaking the treaty: they besieged Saguntum, a city of Spain, which had been in alliance with Rome; and, though desired to desist, prosecuted their operations with vigour. Ambassadors were sent, in consequence, from Rome to Carthage, complaining of the infraction of their articles, and requiring that Hannibal, the Carthaginian general, who had advised this measure, should be delivered up; which being refused, both sides prepared for a second Punic war.

The Carthaginians trusted the management of it, on their side, to Hannibal, the son of Amilcar. This extraordinary man had been made the sworn foe of Rome, almost from his infancy; for, while yet very young, his father brought him before the altar, and obliged him to take an oath, that he never would be in friendship with the Romans, nor desist from opposing their power, until he or they should be no more. On his first appearance in the field, he reconciled, in his own person, the most just method of commanding, with the most perfect obedience to his superiors. Thus he was equally beloved by his generals and the troops he was appointed to lead. He was possessed of the greatest courage in opposing danger, and the greatest presence of mind in retiring from it. No fatigue was able to subdue his body, nor any misfortune to break his spirit: equally patient of heat and cold, he only took sustenance to content nature, and not to delight his appetite. He was the best horseman, and the swiftest runner of his time. This great general, who is considered as the most skilful of antiquity, having over-run all Spain, and levied a large army of various languages and nations, be resolved to carry the war into Italy itself, as the Romans had before carried it into the dominions of Carthage. For this purpose, leaving Hanno with a sufficient force to guard his conquests in Spain, he crossed the Pyrenean mountains into Gaul, with an army of fifty thousand foot and nine thousand horse. He quickly traversed that country, which was then wild and extensive, and filled with nations that were his declared enemies. In vain its forests and rivers appeared to intimidate him; in vain the Rhone with its rapid current, and its banks covered with enemies; or the Dura branched out into numberless channels, opposed his way; he passed them all with perseverance, and in ten days arrived at the foot of the Alps, over which he was to explore a new passage into Italy. It was in the midst of winter, when this astonishing project was undertaken. The season ended new horrors to a scene, that nature had already crowded with objects of dismay. The prodigious height and tremendous steepness of the mountains, c•••ped with snow; the people barbarous and fierce, dressed in skins, with long and shaggy hair; presented a pictured that impressed the beholders with astonishment and terror. But nothing was capable of subduing the courage of the Carthaginian general; for, at the end of fifteen days spent in crossing the Alps, he found himself in the plains of Italy, with about half his army remaining; the rest having died of the cold, or being cut off by the natives.

As soon as it was known at Rome, that Hannibal, at the head of an immense army, was crossing the Alps, in order to invade their dominions, the senate sent Scipo to oppose him, who was obliged to retreat with considerable loss. In the mean time, Hannibal being thus victorious, took the most prudent precautions to encrease his army; giving orders always to spare the possessions of the Gauls, while his depredations were permitted upon those of Rome; and this so pleased that simple people, that they declared for him in great numbers, and flocked to his standard with alacrity.

The second battle was fought upon the banks of the river Trebia. The Carthaginian general being apprised of the Roman impetuosity, of which he always availed himself in almost every engagement, had sent off a body of a thousand horse, each with a foot soldier behind, across the river, to ravage the enemies country, and provoke them to engage. The Romans quickly routed this force, who, seeming to be defeated, took the river, and were as eagerly pursued by Sempronius, the consul. It was not, however, till his army was got upon the opposite bank, that he perceived himself half conquered already, his men being fatigued with wading up to their armpits, and quite benumbed by the intense coldness of the water. A total rout ensued; twenty-six thousand of the Romans were either killed by the enemy, or drowned in attempting to repass the river. A body of ten thousand men were all that survived; who, finding themselves enclosed on every side, broke desperately through the enemies ranks, and fought retreating, till they sound shelter in the city of Placentia.

The Third defeat the Romans sustained was at the lake of Thrasimene; near to which was a chain of mountains, and, between these and the lake, a narrow passage lending to a valley that was embosomed in hills. It was upon these hills that Hannibal disposed his best troops, and it was into this valley that Flaminius, the Roman general, led his men to attack him. A disposition every way so favourable for the Carthaginians, was also assisted by accident; for a mist rising from the lake, kept the Romans from seeing their enemies; while the army upon the mountains, being above its influence, saw the whole disposition of their opponents. The fortune of the day was such as might be expected from the conduct of the two generals; the Roman army was broken, and slaughtered, almost before they could perceive the enemy that destroyed them. About fifteen thousand Romans, together with Flaminius himself, fell in the valley, and six thousand more were obliged to yield themselves prisoners of war.

Upon the news of this defeat at Rome, after the general consternation was allayed, the senate, upon mature deliberation, resolved to elect a commander with absolute authority, in whom they might repose their last and greatest expectations. Their choice fell upon Fabius Maximus, a man of great courage, but with a happy mixture of caution. He was apprised that the only way to humble the Carthaginians at such a distance from home, was rather by harrassing them than by fighting. For this purpose, he always encamped upon the highest grounds, inaccessible to the enemies cavalry. Whenever they moved he moved, watched their motions, straightened their quarters, and cut off their provisions.

By these arts, Fabius had actually, at one time, enclosed Hannibal among mountains, where it was impossible to winter; and yet, from which it was almost impracticable to extricate his army without eminent danger. In this exigence, nothing but one of those stratagems of war, which fall to the lot of great abilities only to invent, could save him: he ordered a number of small fagots and lighted torches to be tied to the horns of two thousand oxen, that he had in his camp, and that they should be driven towards the enemy. These tossing their heads, and running up the sides of the mountains, seemed to fill the whole neighbouring forest with fire; while the centinels that were placed to guard approaches of the mountain, seeing such a number of flames advancing towards their posts, sled in consternation, supposing the whole body of the enemy was in arms to overwhelm them. By this stratagem, Hannibal drew off his army, and escaped through the defiles that led beneath the hills, though with considerable damage to his rear.

Soon after, Fabius was obliged to lay down his office, his time being expired, and Terentius Varro was chosen by the majority to succeed to the command. This Terentius Varro was a man sprung from the dregs of the people, with nothing but his confidence and riches to recommend him. With him was joined Aemilius Paulus, of a disposition entirely opposite; experienced in the field, cautious in action, and impressed with a thorough contempt for the abilities of his plebeian colleague.

The Romans finding themselves enabled to bring a competent force into the field, being almost ninety thousand strong, now again resolved to meet Hannibal, who was at this time encamped near the village of Cannae, with a wind that for a certain season blows still one way, in his rear, which raising great clouds of dust from, the parched plains behind, he knew must greatly distress an approaching enemy. In this situation he waited the coming up of the Romans, with an army of forty thousand foot and half that number of cavalry. The two consuls soon appeared, to his wish, dividing their forces into two parts, and agreeing to take the command every day by turns. On the first day of their arrival, it falling to the lot of Aemilius to command, he was entirely averse to engaging. The next day, however, it being come to Varro's turn to command, he, without asking his colleague's concurrence, gave the signal for battle; and pa••ing the river Ausidus, that lay between both armies, put his forces in array. The battle began with the light-armed infantry; the horse engaged s••n after; and the Roman cavalry being unable to stand against those of Numidia, the legions came up to reinforce them. It was then that the confl•ct became general; the Roman soldiers, for a long time, endeavoured, but in vain, to penetrate the centre, where the Gauls and Spaniards fought; which Hannibal observing, ordered part of those troops to give ••y, and to permit the Romans to embosom themselves within a chosen body of his Africans, whom he had placed on their wing, so as to surround them: upon that a terrible slaughter began to ensue of the Romans, fatigued with repeated attacks, from the Africans, who were fresh and vigorous. At last the 〈◊〉 became general in every part of the Roman army; the boastings of Varro were now no longer heard; while Aemilius, who had been terribly wounded by a slinger in the very beginning of the engagement, still feebly led on his body of horse, •nd did all that could be done to make head against ••e enemy; however, being unable to sit on horseback, he was forced to dismount. It was in this deplorable condition of things, that one Lentulus, a t••bune of the army, as he was flying on horseback from the enemy, which at some distance pursued him, met Aemilius sitting upon a stone, covered over with blood and wounds, and waiting for the coming up of the pursuers▪ "Aemilius," cried the generous tribune, ‘you, at least, are guiltless of this day's slaughter: take my horse, and fly.’ ‘I thank thee, Lentulus,’ cried the dying consul, ‘all is over, my part is chosen: go, I command thee, and tell the senate, from me, to fortify Rome against the approach of the conqueror. Tell Fabius also, that Aemilius, while living, ever remembered his advice; and now, dying, approves it.’ While he was yet speaking, the enemy approached; and Lentulus, before he was out view, saw the consul expire, feebly fighting in the midst of hundreds. In this battle the Romans lost fifty thousand men, and so many knights, that it is said, Hannibal sent three bushels of go•• rings to Carthage, which those of this order had worn on their fingers.

When the first consternation was abated, after this dreadful blow, at Rome, the senate came to a general resolution, to create a dictator, in order to give strength to their government. A short time after, Varro arrived, having left behind him the wretched remains of his army; and, as he had been the principal cause of the late calamity, it was natural to suppose, that the senate would severely reprimand the rashness of his conduct. But far otherwise! The Romans went out in multitudes to meet him; and the senate returned him thanks, that he had not despaired of the safety of Rome. Fabius, who was considered as the shield of Rome, and Marcellus as the sword, were appointed to lead the armies; and, though Hannibal once more offered them peace, they refused it, but upon condition that he should quit Italy.—Terms similar to those they had formerly insisted upon from Pyrihus.

In the mean time, Hannibal, either finding the impossibility of marching directly to Rome, or willing to give his forces rest after such a mighty victory, led them to Capua, where he resolved to winter. This city had long been considered as the nurse of luxury, and the corrupter of all military virtue; here, therefore, a new scene of pleasure opened to his barbarian troops; and they at once gave themselves up to the intoxication, till, from being hardy veterans, they became infirm rioters.

Hitherto we have found this great man successful; but now we are to reverse the picture, and survey him struggling with accumulated misfortunes, and, at last, sinking beneath them.

His first loss was at the siege of Nola, where Marcellus the praetor made a successful sally. He some time after attempted to raise the siege of Capua, and attacked the Romans in their trenches, but he was repulsed with considerable loss. He then made a feint of going to besiege Rome; but finding a superior army ready to receive him, he was obliged to retire. For some years after, he fought with various success; Marcellus, his opponent, sometimes gaining, and sometimes losing the advantage, but coming to no decisive engagement.

The senate of Carthage, at length, came to a resolution of sending his brother Asdrubal to his assistance, with a body of forces drawn out of Spain. Asdrubal's march being made known to the consuls, Livius and Nero, they went against him with great expedition, and surrounding him in a place, into which he was led by the treachery of his guides, they cut his whole army to pieces Hannibal had long expected these succours with impatience; and the very night on which he had been assured of his brother's arrival, Nero ordered Asdrubal's head to be cut off, and thrown into his brother's camp. The Carthaginian general now, therefore, began to perceive the approaches of the downfall of Carthage• and could not help, with a sigh, observing to those about him, that fortune seemed fatigued with granting her favours.

In the mean time, fortune seemed to favour the Roman arms in other parts; Marcellus took the city of Syracuse in Sicily, which was defended by the machines and the fires of Archimedes the mathematician.

The inhabitants were put to the sword; and mong the rest, Archimedes himself, who was found meditating in his study, by a Roman soldier. Marcellus, the general, was not a little grieved at his death. A passion for letters, at that time, began to prevail among the higher ranks of people at Rome. He therefore ordered his body to be honourably buried, and a ton b•o be erected to his memory, which his own works have long survived.

As to their fortunes in Spain, though for a while they appeared doubtful, two of the Scipios being slain, and Claudius Nero, the governor of the province, appearing much an under-match for the cunning of the Carthaginian general; yet they soon recovered their complexion under the conduct of Scipio Africanus, who sued for the office of proconsul, to that kingdom, at a time when every one else was willing to decline it. Scipio, who was now but twenty-four years old, had all the qualifications requisite for forming a great general, and a good man: •e united the greatest courage with the greatest tenderness; superior to Hannibal in the arts of peace, and almost his equal in those of war. His father had been killed in Spain, so that he seemed to have an hereditary claim to attack that country. He therefore appeared irresistible, obtaining many great victories, yet subduing still more by his generosity, mildness, and benevolent disposition, than by the force of his arms.

It was shortly after, that he returned with an army from the conquest of Spain, and was made consul at the age of twenty-nine. It was at first supposed, he intended meeting Hannibal in Italy, and that he would attempt driving him from thence; but he had already formed a wiser plan, which was to carry the war into Africa, and, while the Carthaginians kept an army near Rome, to make them tremble for their own capital.

Scipio was not long in Africa without employment; for, in a short time, Hanno opposed him, but he was defeated and slain. Syphax, the usurper of Numidia, led up a large army against him. The Roman general, for a time, declined sighting, till finding an opportunity, he set fire •n the enemy's tents, and attacking them in the midst of the confusion, killed forty thousand men, and took six thousand prisoners.

The Carthaginians now beginning to be terrified at their repeated defeats, and the fame of Scipio's successes, determined to recall Hannibal, their great champion, out of Italy, in order to oppose the Romans at home. Deputies were accordingly dispatched, with a positive command, for him to return and oppose the Roman general, who at that time threatened Carthage with a siege. Nothing could exceed the regret and disappointment of Hannibal, upon receiving this order. However, he obeyed the orders of his infatuated country, with the same submission that the meanest soldier would have done, and took leave of Italy, with tears in his eyes, after having kept possession of the most beautiful parts of it for above fifteen years.

Upon his arrival at Leptis, in Africa, from whence he marched to Adrumetum, he at last approached Zama, a city within five days journey of Carthage. Scipio, in the mean time, led his army to meet him, joined by Massinissa, with six thousand horse; and, to shew his rival in the field, how little he feared his approach, sent back the spies which were sent to explore his camp, having previously shewn them the whole, with directions to inform Hannibal of what they had seen. The Carthaginian general, conscious of his inferiority, endeavoured to discontinue the war by negociation; and desired a meeting with Scipio, to confer upon terms of peace, to which the Roman general assented. But, after a long conference, both sides parting dissatisfied, they returned to their camps, to prepare for deciding the controversy by the sword. Never was a more memorable battle fought, whether we regard the generals, the armies, the two states that contended, or the empire that was in dispute. The disposition Hannibal made of his men, is said, by the skilful in the art of war, to be superior to any, even of his former arrangements. The battle began with the elephants, on the side of the Carthaginians, which being terrified at the cries of the Romans, and wounded by the slingers and archers, turned upon their drivers, and caused much confusion in both wings of their army, in which the cavalry was placed. Being thus deprived of the assistance of the horse, in which their greatest strength consisted, the heavy infantry joined on both sides; but the Romans being stronger of body, the Carthaginians were obliged to give ground. In the mean time, Massinissa, who had been in pursuit of their cavalry, returning and attacking them in the rear, completed their defeat. A total rout ensued, twenty thousand men were killed in the battle or the pursuit, and as many were taken prisoners. Hannibal, who had done all that a great general and an undaunted soldier could perform, fled with a small body of horse to Adrume •um, fortune seeming to delight in confounding his ability, his valour, and experience.

This victory brought on a peace. The Carthaginians, by Hannibal's advice, offered conditions to the Romans, which they dictated, not as rivals, but as sovereigns. By this treaty, the Carthaginians were obliged to quit Spain, and all the islands in the Mediterranean sea They were bound to pay ten thousand talents in fifty years; to give hostages for the delivery of their ships and their elephants; to restore Massinissa all the territories that had been taken from him, and not to make war in Africa, but by •he permission of the Romans. Thus ended the second Punic war, seventeen years after it had begun.

CHAP. XVI. From the end of the second Punic war to the end of the third, which terminated in the destruction of Carthage.

WHILE the Romans were engaged with Hannibal, they carried on also a vigorous war against Philip, king of Macedonia, not a little incited thereto by the prayers of the Athenians; who, from once controlling the power of Persia, were now unable to defend themselves. The Rhodians, with Attalus, king of Pergamus, also entered into the confederacy against Philip. He was more than once defeated by Galba, the consul, who was sent against him. He attempted to besiege Athens, but the Romans obliged him to raise the siege. He attempted to take possession of the streights of Thermopylae, but was driven from them, by Quintus Flaminius, with great slaughter. He attempted to take refuge in Thessaly, where he was again defeated, with considerable loss, and obliged to beg a peace, upon condition of paying a thousand talents, half down, and the other half in the space of ten years. The peace with Philip gave the Romans an opportunity of shewing their generosity, by restoring liberty to Greece.

Antiochus, king of Syria, was next brought to submit to the Roman arms; after some embassies on the one side and the other, a war was declared against him, five years after the conclusion of the Macedonian war.

After various mistakes and misconduct, he attempted to obtain a peace, by offering to quit all his places in Europe; and such in Asia as professed alliance to Rome. But it was now too late, Scipio perceiving his own superiority, was resolved to avail himself of it. Antiochus, thus driven into resistance, for some time retreated before the enemy, till, being pressed hard, near the city of Magnesia, he was forced to draw out his men, to the number of seventy thousand foot, and twelve thousand horse. Scipio opposed him with forces, as much inferior in number as they were superior in courage and discipline. Antiochus therefore was in a short time entirely defeated; his own chariots, armed with scythes, being driven back upon his men, contributed much to his overthrow. Being thus reduced to the last extremity, he was glad to procure peace of the Romans, upon their own terms; which were, to pay fifteen thousand talents towards the expences of the war; to quit all his possessions in Europe, and like wise all in Asia, on that side Mount Taurus; to give twenty hostages, as pledges of his fidelity; and to deliver up Hannibal, the inveterate enemy o• Rome.

In the mean time, Hannibal, whose destructio• was one of the articles of this extorted treaty, en¦deavoured to avoid the threatened ruin. This con¦summate general had been long a wanderer, and a• exile from his ungrateful country. He had taken refuge at the court of Antiochus, who, at first, gave him a sincere welcome, and made him admiral of his fleet, in which station he shewed his usual skill in stratagem. But he soon sunk in the Syrian's esteem, for having advised schemes, which that monarch had neither genius to understand, nor talents to execute. Sure, therefore, to find no safety or protection, he departed by stealth; and, after wandering for a time among petty states, who had neither power nor generosity to protect him, he took refuge at the court of Prusias, king of Bithynia. In the mean time, the Romans, with a vindictive spirit utterly unworthy of them, sent Aemilius, one of their most celebrated generals, to demand him of this king; who, fearing the resentment of Rome, and willing to conciliate their friendship, by this breach of hospitality, ordered a guard to be placed upon Hannibal, with an intent to deliver him up. The poor old general, thus implacably persecuted from one country to another, and finding all methods of safety cut off, determined to die: he therefore, desired one of his followers to bring him poison, which he had ready for this exigence; and drinking it, he expired, as he had lived, with intrepid bravery.

A second Macedonian war was soon after proclaimed against Perseus, the son of Philip, whom we have already seen obliged to beg peace of the Romans. Perseus, in order to secure the crown, had contrived to murder his brother Demetrius; and, upon the death of his father, pleased with the hopes of imaginary triumphs, made war against Rome. During the course of this war, which continued about three years, many opportunities were offered him of cutting off the Roman army; but being perfectly ignorant how to take advantage of their rashness, he spent the time in empty overtures for a peace. At length, Aemilius gave him a decisive overthrow near the river Enipeus. He attempted to procure safety by flying into Crete; but being abandoned by all, he was obliged to surrender himself, and to grace the splendid triumph of the Roman general.

About this time, Massinissa, the Numidian, having made some incursions into a territory claimed by the Carthaginians, they attempted to repel the invasion. This brought on a war between that monarch and them; while the Romans, who pretended to consider this conduct of theirs as an infraction of the treaty, sent to make a complaint. The ambassadors who were employed upon this occasion finding the city very rich and flourishing, from the long interval of peace which it had now enjoyed for near fifty years, either from motives of avarice to possess its plunder, or from fear of its growing greatness, insisted much on the necessity of a war, which was soon after proclaimed, and the consuls set out with a thorough resolution utterly to demolish Carthage.

The wretched Carthaginians finding that the conquerors would not desist from making demands, while they had any thing left to supply, attempted to soften the victors by submission; but they received orders to leave their city, which was to be levelled with the ground. This severe command they received with all the concern and distress of a despairing people: they implored for a respite from such an hard sentence; they used tears and lamentations▪ but finding the consuls inexorable, they departed with a gloomy resolution, prepared to suffer the utmost extremities, and to fight to the last for their sea• of empire.

Those vessels, therefore, of gold and silver, which their luxury had taken such pride in, were convert¦ed into arms. The women parted also with thei• ornaments, and even cut off their hair to be converted into strings for the bowmen. Asdrubal, who had been lately condemned for opposing the Romans, was now taken from prison to head their army; and such preparations were made, that, when the consuls came before the city, which they expected to find an easy conquest, they met with such resistance, as quite dispirited their forces, and shook their resolution. Several engagements were fought before the walls, with disadvantage to the assailants; so that the siege would have been discontinued, had not Scipio Aemilianus, the adopted son of Africanus, who was now appointed to command it, used as much skill to save his forces after a defeat, as to inspire them with fresh hopes of victory. But all his arts would have failed, had he not found means to seduce Pharneas, the master of the Carthaginian horse, who came over to his side. The unhappy townsmen, soon saw the enemy make nearer approaches; the wall which led to the haven was quickly demolished, soon after, the Forum itself was taken, which offered the conquerors, a deplorable spectacle of houses nodding to the fall, heaps of men lying dead, hundreds of the wounded struggling to emerge from the carnage around them, and deploring their own and their country's ruin. The citadel soon after surrendered at discretion. All now but the temple was subdued, and that was defended by deserters from the Roman army, and those who had been most forward to undertake the war. These, however, expecting no mercy, and finding their condition desperate, set fire to the building, and voluntarily perished in the flames. This was the end of one of the most renowned cities in the world, both for arts, opulence, and extent of dominion; it had rivalled Rome for above an hundred years, and, at one time, was thought to have the superiority.

This conquest over Carthage, was soon followed by many over other states. Corinth, one of the noblest cities of Greece, in the same year, sustained the same fate, being entered by Mummius, the consul, and levelled to the ground. Scipio also having laid siege to Numantia, the strongest city in Spain, the wretched inhabitants, to avoid falling into the hands of the enemy, fired the city over their own heads; and all, to a man, expired in the flames. Thus Spain became a province belonging to Rome, and was governed thenceforward by two annual praetors.

CHAP. XVII. From the destruction of Carthage to the end of the sedition of the Gracchi.

THE Romans now being left without a rival, the triumphs and the spoils of Asia, brought in a taste for splendid expence; and these produced avarice and inverted ambition. The two Gracchi were the first who saw this strange corruption among the great, and resolved to repress it, by renewing the Licinian law, which had enacted, that no person in the state should possess above five hundred acres of land. Tiberius Gracchus, the elder of the two, was a person very considerable both for the advantages of his body, and the qualities of his mind. Very different from Scipio, of whom he was the grandson, he seemed more ambitious of power than desirous of glory: his compassion for the oppressed was equal to his animosity against the oppressors; but unhappily his passions, rather than his reason, operated even in his pursuits of virtue; and these always drove him beyond the line of duty. This was the disposition of the elder Gracchus, who found the lower part of the people ready to second all his proposals. This law, though at first carried on with proper moderation, greatly disgusted the rich, who endeavoured to persuade the people, that the proposer only aimed at disturbing the government, and putting all things into confusion. But Gracchus, who was a man of the greatest eloquence of his time, easily wiped off these impressions from the minds of the people, already irritated with their wrongs; and, at length, the law was passed.

The death of Attalus, king of Pergamus, furnished Tiberius Gracchus with a new opportunity of gratifying the meaner part of the people, at the expence of the great. This king had by his last will left the Romans his heirs; and it was now proposed, that the money so left, should be divided among the poor, in order to furnish them with proper utensils for cultivating the lands, which became theirs by the late law of partition. This caused still greater disturbances than before: the senate assembled upon this occasion, in order to consult the most proper methods of securing these riches to themselves, which they now valued above the safety of the commonwealth: they had numerous dependents, who were willing to give up liberty for plenty and ease: these therefore, were commanded to be in readiness, to intimidate the people, who expected no such opposition; and who were now attending to the harrangues of Tiberius Gracchus in the Capitol. Here, as a •lamour was raised by the clients of the great on one side, and by the favourers of the law on the other, Tiberius found his speech intirely interrupted, and begged, in vain, to be attended to; till at last, raising his hand to his head, to intimate that his life was in danger, the partizans of the senate gave out, that he wanted a diadem. In consequence of this, an universal uproar spread itself through all ranks of people; the corrupt part of the senate were of opinion, that the consul should defend the commonwealth by force of arms; but this prudent magistrate declining such violence, Scipio Nasica, kinsman to Gracchus, immediately rose up, and, preparing himself for the contest, desired that all who would defend the dignity and the authority of the laws, should follow him▪ Upon this, attended by a large body of senators and clients, armed with clubs, he went directly to the Capitol, striking down all who ventured to resist Tiberius perceiving by the tumult, that his life was sought for, endeavoured to fly; and throwing aside his robe, to expedite his escape, attempted to g•• through the throng; but happening to fall over a person already on the ground, Saturnius, one of his colleagues in the tribuneship, who was of the opposite faction, struck him dead with a piece of a seat • and not less than three hundred of his hearers shared the same fate, being killed in the tumult. Nor did the vengeance of the senate rest here, but extended to numbers of those who seemed to espouse his cause• many of them were put to death, many were banished, and nothing was omitted to inspire the people with an abhorrence of his pretended crimes.

Caius Gracchus, the brother of him who was slain, was but twenty-one upon the death of Tiberius, and as he was too young to be much dreaded by the great so he was at first unwilling to incur their resentment by aims beyond his reach; he therefore lived in retirement, unseen and almost forgotten. But, while he thus seemed desirous of avoiding popularity, h• was employing his solitude in the study of eloquence which was the readiest means to obtain it: at length when he thought himself qualified to serve his country, he offered himself candidate for the quaestorship to the army in Sardinia, which he readily obtained▪ His valour, affability, and temperance in this office was remarked by all. The king of Numidia sending a present of corn to the Romans, ordered his ambassadors to say, that it was entirely as a tribute to the virtues of Caius Gracchus. This the senate treated with scorn, and ordered the ambassadors to be dismissed with contempt, as ignorant barbarians; which so enflamed the resentment of young Gracchus, that he immediately came from the army, to complain of the indignity thrown upon his reputation, and to offer himself for the tribuneship of the people. It was then that the great found in this youth, who had been hitherto neglected upon account of his age, a more formidable antagonist than even his brother had been. Notwithstanding the warmest opposition from the senate, he was declared tribune, by a very large majority, and he now prepared to run the same career which his brother had gone before him.

His first effort was to have Popilius, one of the most inveterate of his brother's enemies, cited before the people, who, rather than stand the event of a trial, chose to go into voluntary banishment. He next procured an edict, granting the freedom of the city to the inhabitants of Latium; and, soon after, to all the people on that side the Alps. He afterwards fixed the price of corn to a moderate standard, and procured a monthly distribution of it among the people. He then proceeded to an inspection into the late corruptions of the senate; in which the whole body being convicted of bribery, extortion, and the safe of offices, for at that time a total degeneracy seemed to have taken place, a law was made, transferring the power of judging corrupt magistrates, from the senate to the knights, which made a great alteration in the constitution.

Gracchus, by these means, being grown not only very popular, but very powerful in the state, was become an object, at which the senate aimed all their resentment But he soon found the populace a faithless and unsteady support; they began to withdraw all their confidence from him, and to place it upon Drusus, a man insidiously set up against him by the senate. It was in vain, that he revived the Licinian law in their favour, and called up several of the inhabitants of the different towns of Italy to his support; the senate ordered them all to depart Rome, and even sent one stranger to prison, whom Gracchus had invited to live with him, and honoured with his table and friendship. To this indignity was shortly after added a disgrace of a more fatal tendency; for standing for the tribuneship a third time, he was rejected, it being supposed, that the officers, whose duty it was to make the return, were bribed to reject him, though fairly chosen.

It was now seen, that the fate of Gracchus was resolved on. Opimius, the consul, was not contented with the protection of all the senate and the knights, with a numerous retinue of slaves and clients, but ordered a body of Candians, that were mercenaries in the Roman service, to follow and attend him. Thus guarded, and conscious of the superiority of his forces, he insulted Gracchus wherever he met him, doing all in his power to produce a quarrel, in which he might have a pretence of dispatching his enemy in the fray. Gracchus avoided all recrimination, and, as if apprised of the consul's designs, would not even wear any kind of arms for his defence. His friend Flaccus, however, a zealous tribune, was not so remiss, but resolved to oppose party against party, and for this purpose brought up several countrymen to Rome, who came under pretence of desiring employment. When the day for determining the controversy was arrived, the two parties, early in the morning, attended at the Capitol, where, while the consul was sacrificing, according to custom, one of the lictors taking up the entrails of the beast that was slain, in order to remove them, could not forbear crying out to Fulvius and his party. ‘You, ye factious citizens, make way for honest men.’ This insult so provoked the party to whom it was addressed, that they instantly fell upon him, and pierced him to death with the instruments they used in writing, which they then happened to have in their hands. This murder caused a great disturbance in the assembly; but particularly Gracchus, who saw the consequences that were likely to ensue, reprimanded his party for giving his enemies such advantage over him; but now prepared to lead his followers to Mount Aventine. It was there he learned, that proclamation had been made by the consuls, that whoever should bring either his head, or that of Flaccus, should receive its weight in gold as a reward. It was to no purpose, that he sent the youngest son of Flaccus, who was yet a child, with proposals for an accommodation. The senate and the consuls, who were sensible of their superiority, rejected all his offers, and resolved to punish his offence with nothing less than death; and they offered pardon also to all who should leave him immediately. This produced the desired effect; the people fell from him by degrees, and left him with very inferior forces. In the mean time, Opimius, the consul, who thirsted for slaughter, leading his forces up to Mount Aventine, fell in among the crowd with ungovernable fury: a terrible slaughter of the scarce resisting multitude ensued, and not less than three thousand citizens were slain upon the spot. Flaccus attempted to find shelter in a ruinous cottage; but being discovered, was slain, with his eldest son. Gracchus, at first, retired to the temple of Diana, where he was resolved to die by his own hand; but was prevented by two of his faithful friends and followers, Pomponius and Lucinius, who forced him to seek safety by slight. From thence he made the best of his way to cross a bridge, that led from the city, still attended by his two generous friends, and a Grecian slave, whose name was Philocrates. But his pursuers still pressed upon him from behind, and when come to the foot of the bridge, he was obliged to turn and face the enemy. His two friends were soon slain, defending him against the crowd; and he was forced to take refuge, with his slave, in a grove beyond the Tyber, which had long been dedicated to the Furies. Here finding himself surrounded on every side, and no way left of escaping, he prevailed upon his slave to kill him, who immediately after killed himself, and fell down dead upon the both of his beloved master. The pursuers soon coming up, cut off the head of Gracchus, and placed it for a while as a trophy upon a spear. Soon after, one Septimuleius carrying it home, there, first having secretly taken out the brain, he filled it with lead, in order to make it weigh heavier, and thus received of the consul seventeen pounds of gold as his recompence.

Thus died Caius Gracchus, about ten years after his brother Tiberius, and six after he began to be active in the commonwealth. He is usually impeached by historians, as guilty of sedition; but from what we see of his character, the disturbance of public tranquility was rather owing to his opposers than to him; so that instead of calling the tumults of that time, the sedition of the Gracchi, we should rather call them the sedition of the senate against the Gracchi, since the efforts of the latter were made in vindication of a law, to which the senate had assented, and as the designs of the former were supported by an extraneous armed power from the country, that had never before meddled in the business of the legislation, and whose introduction gave a most irrecoverable blow to the constitution. Whether the Gracchi were actuated by motives of ambition or of patriotism, in the promulgation of these laws, it is impossible to determine; but certain it is, from what appears, that all justice was on their side, and all injury on that of the senate In fact, this body was now quite changed from that venerable assembly, which we have seen overthrowing Pyrrhus and Hannibal, as much by their virtues as their arms. They were now only to be distinguished from the rest of the people by their superior luxuries; and ruled the commonwealth by the weight of that authority, which is gained from riches, and a number of mercenary dependencies. All the venal and the base were attached to them from motives of self-interest; and they who still ventured to be independent, were borne down, and entirely lost in the infamous majority. In short, the empire, at this period, came under the government of an hateful aristocracy; the tribunes, who were formerly accounted protectors of the people, becoming rich themselves, and having no longer opposite interests from those of the senate, concurred in their oppressions; since, as has been said, it was not now the struggle between patricians and plebeians, who only nominally differed, but between the rich and the poor. The lower orders of the state being by these means reduced to a degree of hopeless subjection, instead of looking after liberty, only sought for a leader; while the rich, with all the suspicion of tyrants, terrified at the slightest appearance of opposition, entrusted men with uncontroulable power, from whom they had not strength to withdraw it, when the danger was over. Thus both parts of the state concurred in giving up their freedom; the fears of the senate first made the dictator, and the hatred of the people kept him in his office. Nothing can be more dreadful to a thinking mind than the government of Rome from this period, till it found refuge under the protection of Augustus.

CHAP. XVIII. From the sedition of Gracchus to the perpetual dic¦tatorship of Sylla, which was the first step toward the ruin of the commonwealth of Rome.

WHILE the Romans were in this state of de¦plorable corruption at home, they nevertheless wer• very successful in their transactions with regard t• foreign powers.

Jugurtha was grandson to the famous Massinissa who sided against Hannibal with Rome. He wa• educated with the two young princes, who were lef• to inherit the kingdom, and being superior in abili¦ties to both, and greatly in favour with the people he murdered Hiempsal, the eldest son, and attempted the same by Adherbal the younger, who made hi• escape, and fled to the Romans for succour. Where upon, Jugurtha, being sensible how much avarie• and injustice had crept into the senate, sent his am¦bassadors with large presents to Rome, who so suc¦cessfully prevailed, that the senate decreed him hal• the kingdom, which he had thus acquired by murde• and usurpation, and sent ten commissioners to divide it between him and Adherbal. The commissioners of whom Opimius, the murderer of Gracchus was one, willing to follow the example which the senate had set them, were also bribed to bestow the mos• rich and populous part of the kingdom upon the usurper; who, for all that, resolved to possess himself of the whole. But willing to give a colour to his ambition, he only made in the beginning incursions upon his colleague's territories, in order to provoke reprisals, which he knew how to convert into seeming aggression, in case it came before the senate. This failing, he resolved to throw off the mask; and besieging Adherbal in Cirta, his capital, he at length got him into his power and murdered him. The people of Rome, who had still some generosity remaining, unanimously complained of this treachery, and procured a decree, that Jugurtha should be summoned in person before them, to give an account of all such as had accepted bribes. Jugurtha made no great difficulty in throwing himself upon the clemency of Rome; but giving the people no satisfaction, he had orders to depart the city; and, in the mean time, Albanus, the consul, was sent with an army to follow him; who giving up the direction of the army to Aulus, his brother, a person every way unqualified for the command, the Romans were compelled to hazard a battle upon disadvantageous terms; and the whole army, to avoid being cut to pieces, was obliged to pass under the yoke.

In this condition, Metellus, the succeeding consul, found affairs upon his arrival in Numidia; officers without confidence, an army without discipline, and an enemy ever watchful and intriguing. However, by his great attention to business, and by an integrity that shuddered at corruption, he soon began to retrieve the affairs of Rome, and the credit of the army. In the space of two years, Jugurtha was overthrown in several battles, forced out of his own dominions, and constrained to beg a peace. Thus, all things promised Metellus an easy and certain victory, but he was frustrated in his expectations, by the intrigues of Caius Marius, his lieutenant, who came in to reap that harvest of glory which the other's industry had sown. Caius Marius, was born in a village near Arpinium, of poor parents, who gained their living by their labour. As he had been bred up in a participation of their toils, his manners were as rude, as his countenance was frightful. He was a man of extraordinary stature, incomparable strength, and undaunted bravery. When Metellus, as has been said, was obliged to sollicit at Rome for a continuance of his command, Marius, whose ambition knew no bounds, was resolved to obtain it for himself, and thus gain all the glory of putting an end to the war. To that end he privately inveighed against Metellus by his emissaries at Rome; and having excited a spirit of discontent against him, he had leave granted him to go to Rome, to stand for the consulship himself, which he obtained, contrary to the expectation and interest of the nobles.

Marius being thus invested with the supreme power of managing the war, shewed himself every way fit for the commission. His vigilance was equal to his valour, and he quickly made himself master of the cities which Jugurtha had yet remaining in Numidia. This unfortunate prince finding himself unable to make opposition singly, was obliged to have recourse for assistance to Bocchus, king of Mauritania, to whose daughter he was married. A battle soon after ensued, in which the Numidians surprised the Roman camp by night, and gained a temporary advantage. However, it was but of short continuance; for Marius soon after overthrew them in two signal engagements, in one of which, not less than ninety thousand of the African army were slain. Bocchu• now finding the Romans too powerful to be resisted did not think it expedient to hazard his own crown▪ to protect that of his ally; he therefore determined to make peace, upon whatever conditions he might obtain it; and accordingly sent to Rome, imploring protection. The senate received the ambassador with their usual haughtiness, and, without comply¦ing with their request, granted the suppliant, no• their friendship, but their pardon. Notwithstand¦ing, after some time, he was given to understand that the delivering up of Jugurtha to the Romans would, in some measure, conciliate their favour, and soften their resentment At first the pride of Bocchus struggled against such a proposal, but a few interviews with Sylla, who was quaestor to Marius, reconciled him to this treacherous measure. At length, therefore, Jugurtha was given up, being drawn into an ambuscade, by the specious pretences of his ally, who deluded him by desiring a conference; and being made a prisoner, he was carried by Marius to Rome, loaded with chains, a deplorable instance of blasted ambition. He did not long survive his overthrow, being condemned by the senate to be starved to death in prison, a short time after he had adorned the triumph of the conqueror.

Marius, by this and two succeeding victories over the Gauls, having become very formidable to distant nations in war, became soon after much more dangerous to his fellow-citizens in peace.

The strength which he had given the popular party, every day grew more conspicuous: and the Italians being frustrated in their aims of gaining the freedom of Rome, by the intrigues of the senate, they resolved upon obtaining by force, what was refused them as a favour. This gave rise to the Social war, in which most of the states of Italy entered into a confederacy against Rome, in order to obtain a redress of this, and all the rest of their grievances.

After a lapse of two years, this war having continued to rage with doubtful success, the senate began to reflect, that, whether conquered or conquerors, the power of the Romans was in danger of being totally destroyed. In order therefore to soften their compliance by degrees, they began by giving the freedom of the city to such of the Italian states as had not revolted. They then offered it to such as would soonest lay down their arms. This unexpected bounty had the desired effect; the allies, with mutual distrust, offered each a separate treaty: the senate took them one by one into favour, but gave the freedom of the city in such a manner, that, being empowered to vote not until all the other tribes had given their suffrages, they had very little weight in the constitution. In this manner they were made free, all but the Samnites and Lucanians, who seemed excluded from the general compromise, as if to leave Sylla, who commanded against them, the glory of putting an end to the war: this he performed with great conduct, storming their camps, overthrowing them in several battles, and obliging them to submit to such terms as the senate were pleased to impose.

This destructive war being concluded, which, as Paterculus says, consumed above three hundred thousand of the flower of Italy, the senate now began to think of turning their arms against Mithridates, the most powerful and warlike monarch of the East.

For this expedition Marius had long been preparing, but Sylla, who now began to make a figure in the commonwealth, had interest enough to get Marius set aside, and himself appointed to the expedition. Marius, however, tried all his arts with the people to get this appointment reversed, and at length procured a law to be enacted, that the command of the army appointed to oppose Mithridates, was to be transferred from Sylla to Marius.

In consequence of this, Marius immediately sent down officers from Rome, to take command in his name. But, instead of obeying their orders, they fell upon and slew the officers, and then entreated Sylla, that he would lead them directly to take signal vengeance upon all his enemies at Rome.

Accordingly, his soldiers entered the city sword in hand, as a place taken by storm. Marius and Sulpicius, at the head of a tumultuary body of their partizans, attempted to oppose their entrance; and the citizens themselves, who feared the sackage of the place, threw down stones and tyles from the tops of the houses upon the intruders. So unequal a conflict lasted longer than could have been expected: at length, Marius and his party were obliged to seek safety by flight, after having vainly offered liberty to all the slaves, who would assist them in this emergency.

Sylla now finding himself master of the city, began by modelling the laws so as to favour his outrages. While Marius, driven out of Rome, and declared a public enemy, at the age of seventy, was obliged to save himself, unattended and on foot, from the numerous pursuits of those who sought his life. After having wandered for some time in this deplorable condition, he found every day his dangers encrease, and his pursuers making nearer advances. In this distress he was obliged to conceal himself in the marshes of Minturnum, where he spent the night up to his chin in a quagmire. At break of day he left this dismal place, and made towards the sea side, in hopes of finding a ship to facilitate his escape; but being known and discovered by some of the inhabitants, he was conducted to a neighbouring town with an halter round his neck, without cloaths, and, covered over with mud, was sent to prison. The governor of the place, willing to conform to the orders of the senate, soon after sent a Cimbrian slave to dispatch him; but the barbarian no sooner entered the dungeon for this purpose, but he stopt short, intimidated by the dreadful visage and awful voice of the fallen general, who sternly demanded, if he had the presumption to kill Caius Marius? The slave, unable to reply, threw down his sword, and rushing back from the prison, cried out, that he found it impossible to kill him! The governor, considering the fear of the slave as an omen in the unhappy exile's favour, gave him once more his freedom; and, commending him to his fortune, provided him with a ship to convey him from Italy. He from thence made the best of his way to the island of Aenaria, and sailing onward, was forced by a tempest on the coast of Sicily. There a Roman quaestor, who happened to be at the same place, resolved to seize him; by which he lost sixteen of his crew, who were killed in their endeavours to cover his retreat to the ship. He afterwards landed in Africa, near Carthage, and went, in a melancholy manner, to place himself amongst the ruins of that desolated place. He soon, however, had orders from the praetor, who governed there, to retire. Marius, who remembered his having once served this very man, when in necessity, could not suppress his sorrow, at finding ingratitude in every quarter of the would; and preparing to obey, desired the messenger to tell his master, that he had seen Marius sitting among the ruins of Carthage, intimating the greatness of his own fall, by the desolation that was found him. He then embarked once more, and, not knowing where to land without encountering an enemy, spent the winter at sea, expecting every hour, the return of a messenger from his son, whom he had sent to sollicit protection from an African prince, whose name was Mand•astal. After long expectation, instead of the messenger, his son himself arrived, having escaped from the inhospitable court of that monarch, where he had been kept, not as a friend, but a prisoner, and had returned just time enough to prevent his father from sharing the same fate. It was in this situation, that they were informed that Cinna, one of their party, who had remained at Rome, had restored their affairs, and headed a large army of the Italian states in his cause.

Nor was it long before they joined their forces, and presented themselves at the gates of Rome. Sylla was at that time absent in his command against Mi •hridates, wh••e Cinna marched into the city, accompanied by his guards; but Marius stopped, and refused to enter, alledging, that, having been banished by a public decree, it was necessary to have another to authorize his return. It was thus that he desired to give his meditated cruelties the appearance of justice; and, while he was about to destroy thousands, to pretend an implicit veneration for the laws. In pursuance of his desire, an assembly of the people being called, they began to reverse his banishment; but they had scarce gone through three of the tribes, when, incapable of containing his desire of revenge, he entered the city at the head of his guards, and massacred all that had ever been obnoxious to him, without remorse or pity. Several who sought to propitiate the tyrant's rage, were murdered by his command in his presence; many even of those who had never offended him were put to death; and, at last, even his own officers never approached him but with error. Having in this manner punished his enemies, be next abrogated all the laws which were made by his rival, and then made himself consul with Cinna. Thus gratified in his two favourite passions, vengeance and ambition, having once saved his country, and now deluged it with blood; at last, as if willing to crown the pile of slaughter which he had made, with his own body, he died the month after, aged seventy, not without suspicion of having hastened his •ad.

In the mean time, these accounts were brought to Sylla, who was sent against Mithridates, and who was performing many signal services against him; but conc•uding a peace with that monarch, he resolved to return home to take revenge of his enemies at Rome.

In the mean time, nothing could intimidate Cinna from making preparations to repel his opponent. Being joined by Carbo, who was now elected in the room of Valerius, who had been slain, together with young Marius, who inherited all the abilities and the ambition of his father, he determined to send over part of the forces he had raised into Dalmatia, to oppose Sylla before he entired Italy. Some troops were accordingly embarked; but these being dispersed by a storm, the rest, that had not yet put to sea, absolutely refused to go. Upon this, Cinna, quite furious at their disobedience, rushed forward to persade them to their duty In the mean time, one of the most mutinous of the soldiers being struck by an officer, returned the blow, and was apprehended for his crime. This ill-timed severity produced a tumult and a mutiny through the whole army; and while Cinna did all he could to prevent or appease it, he was run through the body by one of the crowd.

Scipio, the consul, who commanded against Sylla, was soon after allured by proposals for coming to a treaty: but a suspension of arms being agreed upon, Sylla's soldiers went into the opposite camp, displaying those riches which they had acquired in their expeditions, and offering to participate with their fellow-citizens, in case they changed their party. Accordingly, the whole army declared unanimously for Sylla; and Scipio scarce knew that he was forsaken and deposed, till he was informed of it by a party of the enemy, who, entering his tent, made him and his son their prisoners.

In this manner, both factions, exasperated to the highest degree, and expecting no mercy on either part, gave vent to their fury in several engagements The forces on the side of young Marius, who now succeeded his father in command, were the mos• numerous, but those of Sylla better united and mor• under subordination. Carbo, who commanded an army for Marius in the field, sent eight legions to Praeneste, to relieve his colleague, but they were met by Pompey, afterwards surnamed the Great, in a defile, who slew many of them, and dispersed the rest. Carbo, joined by Urbanus, soon after engaged Meteilus, but was overcome with the loss of ten thousand men slain, and six thousand taken prisoners. In consequence of this defeat, Urbanus killed himself, and Carbo sled to Africa, where, after wandering a long time, he was at last delivered up to Pompey, who, to please Sylla, ordered him to be beheaded. Sylla, now become undisputed master of his country, entered Rome at the head of his army. Happy, had he supported in peace the glory which he had acquired in war; or had he ceased to live, when he ceased to conquer.

Eight thousand men, who had escaped the general carnage, offered themselves to the conqueror: he ordered them to be put into the Villa Publica, a large house in the Campus Martius; and at the same time convoked the senate: there he spoke with great ••tency, and in a manner no way discomposed, of his own exploits; and in the mean time, gave pri ••te directions, that all those wretches, whom he had confined, should be slain. The senate, amazed at the ho••id outcries of the sufferers, at first thought 〈◊〉 the city was given up to plunder; but Sylla, 〈◊〉 an unembarrassed air, informed them, that it was only some criminals who were punished by his order, and that they needed not to make themselves un•asy about their fate. The day after, he proscribed forty senators and sixteen hundred knights; and, after 〈◊〉 intermission of two days, forty senators more, 〈◊〉 infinite number of the richest citizens of Rome.

H• next resolved to invest himself with the dictatorship, and that for a perpetuity; and thus uniting all cl••• as well as military power in his own person, he was conscious he might thence give an air of justice to every oppression.

In this manner he continued to govern with capricious tyranny, none daring to resist his power, until, contrary to the expectations of all mankind, he laid down the dictatorship, having held it not quite three years.

After this he retired into the country, in order to enjoy the pleasures of tranquility and social happiness; but he did not long survive his abdication; he died of that disease which is called the morbus pedicularis, a loathsome and mortifying object, and capable of shewing the futility of human ambition.

CHAP. XIX. From the Perpetual Dictatorship of Sylla to the Triumvirate of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus.

UPON death of Sylla, the jealousies of Pompey and Crassus, the two most powerful men in the empire, began to excite fresh dissensions. Pompey was the most beloved general, and Crassus was the richest man in Rome.

The first opportunity that was afforded of discovering their mutual jealousy, was upon the disbanding their troops, with which they had conquered. Neither chose to begin; so that the most fatal consequences threatened from their dissension: but, at length, Crassus, stifling his resentment, laid down his command; and the other followed his example immediately after. The next trial between them was, who should be foremost in obtaining the favour of the people. Crassus entertained the populace at a thousand different tables; distributed corn to the families of the poor; and fed the greatest part of the citizens for near three months. Pompey, on the other hand, laboured to abrogate the laws made against the people's authority by Sylla: he restored the power of judging to the knights, which had been formerly granted them by Gracchus; and gave back to the tribunes of the people all their former privileges. It was thus that each gave his private aims a public appearance; so that what was in reality ambition in both, took with one the name of liberality, with the other that of freedom.

An expedition, in which Pompey cleared the Mediterranean, which was infested by pirates, having added greatly to his reputation, the tribunes of the people hoped it would be easier to advance their favourite still higher: wherefore Manilius, one of the number, preferred a law, that all the armies of the empire, with the government of all Asia, together with the management of the war, which was renewed against Mithridates, should be committed to him alone. The law passed with little opposition, and the decree was confirmed by all the tribes of the people

Being thus appointed to the command of that important war, he immediately departed for Asia, having made the proper preparations towards forwarding the campaign. Mithridates had been obliged by Lucullus to take refuge in Lesser Armenia, and thither that general was preparing to follow him, when his whole army abandoned him, so that it remained for Pompey to terminate the war, which he effected with great ease and expedition, adding a large extent of dominion to the Roman empire, and returning to Rome in triumph at the head of his conquering army.

But all the victories of Pompey, rather served to heighten the glory, than to encrease the power of Rome; ••ey only made it a more glaring object of ambition, and exposed its liberties to greater danger. Those liberties, indeed, seemed devoted to ruin on every side; for, even while he was pursuing his conquest abroad, Rome was at the verge of ruin, from a con¦spiracy at home. This conspiracy was projected an• carried on by Sergius Catiline, a patrician by birth who resolved to build his own power on the downfa• of his country. He was singularly formed, both b• art and nature, to conduct a conspiracy: he was pos¦sessed of courage, equal to the most desperate at¦tempts, and eloquence to give a colour to his ambi¦tion: ruined in his fortunes, profligate in his man¦ners, and vigilant in pursuing his aims; he was in¦satiable after wealth, only with a view to lavish it o• his guilty pleasures

Catiline having contracted many debts by th• looseness of such an ill-spent life, was resolved to ex¦tricate himself from them by any means however un¦lawful.

Accordingly, he assembled about thirty of hi• debauched associates, and informed them of his aims his hopes, and his settled plan of operations. It was re¦solved among them, that a general insurrection shoul• be raised throughout Italy, the different parts of whic• were assigned to the different leaders. Rome was t• be fired in several place at once; and Catiline, a• the head of an army rai••d in Etruria, was in the ge¦neral confusion to p••sess himself of the city, an• massacre all the senators. Lentulus, one of his pro¦fligate assistants, who had been praetor, or judge i• the city, w•• to preside in their general councils Cethegus, a ••n who sacrificed the possession o• great present 〈◊〉 to the hopes of gratifying his re¦venge •gainst 〈◊〉, was to direct the massacr• thr•ugh the city; 〈◊〉 •aesius was to conduct thos• who fired it. But the vigilance of Cicero being • chief obstacle to the• ••signs, Catiline was very de¦sirous to see him taken 〈◊〉 before he left Rome: upo• which, two knights of the company undertook to 〈◊〉 him the next morning in his bed, in an early visit in pretence of business. But the meeting was no sooner over, than Cicero had information of all that •assed in it; for, by the intrigues of a woman, named Fulvia, he had gained over Curius, her lover, and one of the conspirators, to send him a punctual account of all their deliberations. Having taken proper precautions to guard himself against the designs of his morning visitors, who were punctual to the •ppointment, he next took care to provide for the de •ence of the city, and assembling the senate, consulted what was best to be done in this time of danger. The first step taken, was to offer considerable rewards for farther discoveries, and then to prepare for the defence of the state. Catiline, to shew how well he could dissemble, or justify any crime, went boldly to the senate, declaring his innocence; but when confronted by the eloquence of Cicero, he hastily withdrew, declaring aloud, that since he was denied a vindication of himself, and driven headlong by his enemies, he would extinguish the flame which was raised about him, in universal ruin. Accordingly, after a short conference with Lentulus and Cethegus, he left Rome by night, with a small re •inue, to make the best of his way towards Etruria, where Manilius, one of the conspirators, was raising in army to support him.

In the mean time, Cicero took proper precautions to secure all those of the conspiracy who remained in Rome. Lentulus, Cethegus, Caesius, and several others, were put in confinement; and soon after, by the command of the senate, being delivered over to the executioners, were strangled in prison.

While his associates were put to death in the city, Catiline had raised an army of twelve thousand men; of which a fourth part only was completely armed; the rest being furnished with what chance afforded, darts, lances, and clubs. He refused, at first, to enlist slaves, who flocked to him in great numbers▪ trusting to the proper strength of the conspiracy; but upon the approach of the consul, who was sen• against him, and upon the arrival of the news, tha• his confederates were put to death in Rome, the face of his affairs were entirely altered. His first attempt therefore, was, by long marches, to make his escape over the Appennines into Gaul; but in this his hope were disappointed, all the passes being strictly guard¦ed by an army under Metellus, superior to his own Being thus hemmed in on every side, and seeing al• things desperate, with nothing left him, but either t• die or conquer, he resolved to make one vigour¦ous effort against that army which pursued him. An¦tonius, the consul, being himself sick, the command devolved upon his lieutenant, Petreius; who, after • fierce and bloody action, in which he lost a consi¦derable part of his best troops, put Catiline's force to the rout, and destroyed his whole army, whic• fought desperately to the last man.

The extinction of this conspiracy seemed only 〈◊〉 leave an open theatre for the ambition of the gre•• men of the state to display itself in. Pompey w•• now returned in triumph from conquering the Ea•• as he had before been victorious in Europe an• Africa.

Crassus, as we have already observed, was th• richest man in Rome; and next to him, possessed o• the greatest authority: his party in the senate wa• even stronger than that of Pompey, his rival, and th• envy raised against him was less. He and Pompe• had been long disunited by an opposition of interest and of characters: however, it was from a continu¦ance of their mutual jealousies, that the state was • some measure to expect its future safety. It was • this situation of things, that Julius Caesar, who ha• lately gone praetor into Spain, and had returned wit• great riches and glory, resolved to convert their m••¦tual jealousy to his own advantage. This celebrated man was nephew to Marius, by the female line, and descended from one of the most illustrious families in Rome: he had already mounted by the regular gradations of office; having been quaestor, aedile, grand pontiff, and praetor in Spain. Being descended from popular ancestors, he warmly espoused the side of the people, and shortly after the death of Sylla procured those whom he had banished to be recalled. He had all along declared for the populace against the senate, and by this became their most favourite magistrate. This consummate statesman began first, by offering his services to Pompey, promising him his aid in having all his acts passed, notwithstanding the senate's opposition. Pompey, pleased at the acquisition of a person of so much merit, readily granted him his confidence and protection. He next applied to Crassus, who, from former connexions was disposed to become still more nearly his friend: at length, finding neither averse to an union of interests, he took an opportunity of bringing them together; and, remonstrating to them the advantage, as well as the necessity of a reconciliation, he had art enough to persuade them to forget former animosities. A combination was thus formed, by which they three agreed, that nothing should be done in the commonwealth, but what received their mutual concurrence and approbation. This was called the First Triumvirate, by which we find the constitution weakened by a new interest, that had not hitherto taken place in the government, very different from that either of the senate or the people, and yet dependent on both.

CHAP. XX. From the beginning of the first Triumvirate to the death of Pompey.

THE first thing Caesar did, upon being taken into the triumvirate, was to avail himself of the interest of his confederates to obtain the consulship. The senate had still some small influence left; and, though they were obliged to concur in chusing him, yet they gave him for a colleague, on Bibulus, who they supposed would be a check upon his power; but the opposition was too strong for even superior abilities to resist it; so that Bibulus, after a slight attempt in favour of the senate, remained inactive. Caesar began his schemes for empire, by ingratiating himself with the people: he procured a law for dividing certain lands in Campania, among such of the poor citizens, as had at least three children. This proposal was just enough in itself, and only criminal from the views of the proposer.

Having thus strengthened himself at home, he next deliberated with his confederates, about sharing the foreign provinces of the empire between them. The partition was soon made: Pompey chose Spain for his own part; for being fatigued with conquest, and satiated with military fame, he was willing to take his pleasures at Rome. Crassus chose Syria for his part of the empire; which province, as it had hitherto enriched the generals who had subdued it would, he hoped, gratify him in this his most favourite pursuit. To Caesar was left the provinces o• Gaul; composed of many fierce and powerful nations, most of them unsubdued, and the rest only professing a nominal subjection. Wherefore, as i• was rather appointing him to conquer than command▪ this government was granted him for five years; as if, by its continuance, to compensate for its danger.

It would be impossible, in this narrow compass, to enumerate all the battles Caesar fought, and the states he subdued, in his expeditions into Gaul and Britain, which continued eight years. The Helvetians were the first that were brought into subjection, with the loss of near two hundred thousand men; those who remained after the carnage, were sent, by Caesar, in safety to the forests, from whence they had issued. The Germans, with Ariovistus at their head, were next cut off, to the number of eighty thousand; their monarch himself narrowly escaping in a little boat across the Rhine. The Belgae were cut off with such great slaughter, that marshes and deep rivers were rendered passable from the heaps of s•ain. The Nervians, who were the most warlike of those barbarous nations, made head for a short time, and fell upon the Romans with such fury, that their army was in danger of being utterly routed; but Caesar himself hastily catching up a buckler, rushed through his army into the midst of the enemy; by which means, he so turned the fate of the day, that the barbarians were all cut off to a man. The Celtic Gauls, who were powerful at sea, were next brought under subjection. After them, the Suevi, the Menapii, and all the nations from the Mediterranean to the British sea. From thence, stimulated by the desire of conquest, he crossed over into Britain, upon pretence, that the natives had furnished his enemies with continual supplies. Upon approaching the shores, he found them covered with men to oppose his landing, and his forces were in danger of being driven back, till the standard bearer of the tenth legion boldly leaped ashore, and, being well assisted by Caesar, the natives were put to flight. The Britons, being terrified at Caesar's power, sent to desire a peace, which was granted them, and some hostage delivered. A storm, however, soon after destroyin• great part of his fleet, they resolved to take advan¦tage of the disaster, and marched against him with • powerful army. But what could a naked undisci¦plined army do against forces that had been exercise under the greatest generals, and hardened by th• conquests of the greatest part of the world. Bein• overthrown, they were obliged once more to sue fo• peace; which Caesar granted them, and then return¦ed to the continent. Thus, in less than nine year• he conquered, together with Britain, all that coun¦try which extends from the Mediterranean to th• German sea.

While Caesar was thus encreasing his reputatio• and riches abroad, Pompey, who remained all th• time in Rome, steadily co-operated with his ambi¦tion, and advanced his interests, while he vainly su•¦posed he was forwarding his own. By his mean• Caesar was continued five years longer in Gual: n• was he roused from his lethargy, till the same • that great commander's valour, riches, and humani¦ty, began secretly to give him pain, and to mak• him suppose they began to eclipse his own; for, • being more recent, they were more talked of. H• now, therefore, began to do all in his power to di¦minish Caesar's reputation, obliging the magistrat• not to publish any letters they received from him till he had diminished the credit of them, by spread¦ing disadvantageous reports: one or two accident also helped to widen the separation; namely, the death of Julia, Pompey's wife, who had not a litt•• contributed to improve the harmony that subsisted be¦tween them; and the destruction of Crassus, who had conducted the war against the Parthians with so little prudence, that he suffered the enemy •o get the advantage of him in almost every skirmish▪ and incapable of extricating himself from the dif¦ficulties in which he was involved, he fell a sacrifice to his own rashness, being killed, bravely defending himself to the last.

Caesar, who now began to be sensible of the jealousies of Pompey, took occasion to solicit for the consulship, together with a prolongation of his government in Gaul, desirous of trying whether Pompey would thwart or promote his pretensions. In this, Pompey seemed to be quite inactive; but, at the same time, privately employed two of his creatures, who alledged in the senate, that the laws did not permit a person that was absent, to offer himself as a candidate for that high office. Pompey's view in this was to allure Caesar from his government, in order to stand for the consulship in person. Caesar, however, perceiving his artifice, chose to remain in his province; convinced, that while he headed such an army as was now devoted to his interests, he could, at any time, give laws as well as magistrates to the state.

The senate, which were now devoted to Pompey, because he had for some time attempted to defend them from the encroachments of the people, ordered two legions which were in Caesar's army, belonging to Pompey, home, as it was pretended, to oppose the Parthians, but, in reality, to diminish Caesar's power. Caesar easily saw their motive; but, as his plans were not yet ready for execution, he sent them home, in pursuance of the orders of the senate, having previously attached the officers to him with benefits, and the soldiers with a bounty. The next step the senate took, was to recall Caesar from his government, as his time was now very near expiring. •ut Curio, his friend in the senate, proposed that Caesar should not leave his army, till Pompey had set him the example. This for a while perplexed Pompey; however, during the debate, one of the senate declaring that Caesar was past the Alps, and marching with his whole army directly toward Rome, the consul immediately quitting the senate, went with his colleague forth from the city to an house where Pompey at that time resided. He there presented him with a sword, commanding him to march against Caesar, and fight in defence of the commonwealth. Pompey declared he was ready to obey; but with an air of pretended moderation added, that it was only in case more gentle expedients could not be employed.

Caesar, who was instructed in all that passed, by his partizans at Rome, though he was still in Gaul, was willing to give his aims all the appearance of justice. He agreed to lay down his employment when Pompey should do the same. But the senate rejected all his propositions, blindly confident of their own power, and relying on the assurances of Pompey. Caesar still unwilling to come to an open rupture with the state, at last was content to ask the government of Illyria, with two legions; but this also was refused him. Now, therefore, finding all hopes of an accommodation fruitless, and conscious, if not of the goodness of his cause, at least of the goodness of his troops, he began to draw them down towards the confines of Italy, and, passing the Alps with his third legion, stopt at Ravenna, a city of Cisalpine Gaul, from whence he once more wrote a letter to the consuls, declaring, that he was ready to resign all command in case Pompey did so too. On the other hand, the senate decreed, that Caesar should lay down his government, and disband his forces within a limited time; and, if he refused obedience, that he should be declared an enemy to the commonwealth.

Caesar, however, seemed no way disturbed at these violent proceedings; the night before his intended expedition into Italy, he sat down to table chearfully conversing with his friends on subjects of literature and philosophy, and apparently disengaged from every ambitious concern. After some time, rising up, he desired the company to make themselves chearful in his absence, and that he would be with them in a moment: in the mean time, having ordered his chariot to be prepared, he immediately set out, attended by a few friends, for Arminium, a city upon the confines of Italy, whither he had dispatched a part of his army the morning before. This journey by night, which was very satiguing, he performed with great diligence, sometimes walking, and sometimes on horseback, till at the break of day he came up with his army, which consisted of about five thousand men, near the Rubicon, a little river which seperates Italy from Gaul, and which terminated the limits of his command. The Romans had ever been taught to consider this river as the sacred boundary of their domestic empire; Caesar, therefore, when he advanced at the head of his army to the side of the river, stopt short upon the bank, as if imprest with terror at the greatness of his enterprize. He pondered for some time in fixed melancholy, looking upon the river, and debating with himself whether he should venture in: "If I pass this river," says he to one of his generals who stood by him, ‘what miseries shall I bring upon my country! and, if now I stop short, I am undone.’ Thus saying, and resuming all his former alacrity, he plunged in, crying out, that the die was cast, and all was now over, his soldiers followed him with equal promptitude, and quickly arriving at Arminium, made themselves masters of the place without any resistance.

This unexpected enterprize excited the utmost terrors in Rome, every one imagining that Caesar was leading his army to lay the city in ruins. At one ••me were to be seen the citizens flying into the country for safety, and the inhabitants of the country coming up to seek for shelter in Rome. In this universal confusion, Pompey felt all that repentance and self-condemnation which must necessarily arise from the remembrance of having advanced his rival to his present pitch of power: wherever he appeared, many of his former friends were ready to tax him with his supineness, and sarcastically to reproach his ill-grounded presumption. "Where is now," cried Favonius, a ridiculous senator of his party, ‘the army that is to rise at your command? Let us see if it will appear by stamping.’ Cato reminded him of the many warnings he had given him; which, however, as he was continually boding nothing but calamities, Pompey might very justly he excused from attending to. But being at length wearied with these reproaches, which were offered under colour of advice, he did all that lay in his power to encourage and confirm his followers: he told them that they should not want an army, for that he would be their leader; he confest, indeed, that he had all along mistaken Caesar's aims, judging of them only from what they ought to be; however, if his f•iends were still inspired with the love of freedom, they might yet enjoy it in whatever place their necessities should happen to conduct them. He let them know that their affairs were in a very promising situation, that his two lieutenants were at the head of a very considerable army in Spain, composed of veteran troops that had made the conquest of the East; besides these, there were infinite resources both in Asia and Africa, together with the succours they were sure to expect from all the kingdoms that were in alliance with Rome. This speech served, in some measure, to revive the hopes of the confederacy. The greatest part of the senate, his own private friends and dependents, together with all those who expected to make their fortunes in his cause, agreed to follow him. Being in no capacity to resist Caesar a• Rome, he resolved to lead his forces to Capua, where he commanded the two legions that served under Caesar in Gaul.

Caesar, in the mean time, after having vainly attempted to bring Pompey to an accommodation, resolved to pursue him into Capua before he could collect his forces. Accordingly, he marched on to take possession of the cities that lay between him and his rival, not regarding Rome, which he knew would full of course to the conqueror.

Corfinium was the first city that attempted to stop the rapidity of his march. It was defended by Domitius, who had been appointed by the senate to succeed him in Gaul, and was garrisoned by twenty cohorts which were levied in the countries adjacent: Caesar, however, quickly invested it; and, though Domitius sent frequently to Pompey, exhorting him to come and raise the siege, he was at last obliged to endeavour to escape privately. His intentions happ•ned to be divulged, the garrison were resolved to consult their own safety by delivering him up to the besiegers. Caesar readily accepted their offers, but kept his men from immediately entering into the town. After some time, Lentulus, the consul, who was one of the besieged, came out to implore forgiveness for himself and the rest of his confederates, putting Caesar in mind of their ancient friendship, and acknowledging the many favours he had received at his hands To this, Caesar, who would not wait the conclusion of his speech, generously replied, that he came into Italy not to injure the liberties of Rome and its citizens, but to restore them. This humane reply being quickly carried into the city, the senators, and the knights, with their children and some officers of the garrison, came out to claim the conqueror's protection, who, just glancing at their ingratitude, gave them their liberty, with permission to go wheresoever they should think proper. But while he dismissed the leaders, he, upon this, as upon all other occasions, took care to attach the common soldiers to his own interest, sensible that he might stand in need of an army; but that, while he lived, his army could never stand in need of a commander.

Pompey, who was unable to continue in Rome, having intelligence of what passed upon this occasion, immediately retreated to Brundusium, where he resolved to stand a siege to retard the enemy until the forces of the empire should be united to oppose him. His aim in this succeeded to his wish, and after having employed Caesar for some time in a fruitless siege, he privately passed his forces over to Dyracchium, where the consul had levied a body of forces for his assistance. However, though he made good his escape, he was compelled to leave the whole kingdom of Italy at the mercy of his rival, without either a town or an army that had strength to oppose his prog•ess.

Caesar finding he could not follow Pompey for want of shipping, went back to Rome, to take possession of the public treasures, which his opponent, by a most unaccountable over-sight, had neglected taking with him. However, upon his coming up to the door of the treasury, Metellus, the tribune, who guarded it, refused to let him pass; but Caesar, with more than usual emotion, laying his hand upon his sword, threatened to strike him dead; ‘And know, young man,’ cried he, ‘that it is easier to do this than to say it.’ This menace had its effect; Metellus retired, and Caesar took out of the treasury to the amount of three thousand pound weight of gold, besides an immense quantity of silver.

Having thus provided for continuing the war, he departed from Rome, resolved to subdue Pompey's lieutenants, Afranius and Petreius, who had been long in Spain at the head of a veteran army, composed of the choicest legions of the empire, who had been ever victorious under all its commanders. Caesar, however, who knew the abilities of its two present generals, jocosely said as he was preparing to go thither, that he went to fight an army without a general, and, upon conquering it, would return to fight a general without an army.

The first conflict which he had with Afranius and Petreius, was rather unfavourable. It was sought near the city of Herda, and both sides claimed the honour of the victory. But by various stratagems he reduced them at last to such extremity of hunger and drought, that they were obliged to yield at discretion. Clemency was his favourite virtue; he dismissed them all with the kindest professions, and sent them home to Rome loaden with shame and obligations to publish his virtues, and confirm the affections of his adherents. Thus, in the space of about forty days, he became master of all Spain, and returned again victorious to Rome. The citizens upon this occasion received him with fresh demonstrations of joy, and created him dictator and consul; but the first of these offices he laid down after he had held it but eleven days.

While Caesar was thus employed, Pompey was equally active in making preparations in Epirus and Greece to oppose him. All the monarchs of the East had declared in his favour, and sent very large supplies. He was master of nine effective Italian legions, and had a fleet of five hundred large ships under the conduct of Bibulus, an active and experienced commander. Added to these, he was supplied with large sums of money, and all the necessaries for an army, from the tributary provinces round him. He had attacked Anthony and Dolabella, who commanded for Caesar in that part of the empire, with such success, that the former was obliged to fly, and the latter was taken prisoner. Crowds of the most distinguished citizens and nobles from Rome came every day to join him. He had at one time above two hundred senators in his camp, among whom were Cicero and Cato, whose approbation of his cause was equivalent to an army.

Notwithstanding these preparations, Caesar shipped off five of his twelve legions, at Brundusium, and weighing anchor, fortunately steered through th• midst of his enemies, timing it so well that he mad• his passage in one day. Still, however, convince• that the proper time for making proposals for a peac• was after gaining an advantage, he sent one Rufus• whom he had taken prisoner, to effect an accom¦modation with Pompey, offering to refer all to th• senate and people of Rome; but Pompey once mor• rejected the overture, holding the people of Rome to• much in Caesar's interests to be relied on.

Pompey had been raising supplies in Macedon•• when first informed of Caesar's landing upon the coas• of Epirus: he now, therefore, resolved immediately • march to Dyracchium, in order to cover that place fro• Caesar's attempts, as all his ammunition and prov•¦sions were deposited there. The first place that bot• armies came in sight of each other, was on the oppo¦site banks of the river Apsus; and as both were com¦manded by the two greatest generals then in the worl• the one renowned for his conquest of the East, th• other celebrated for his victories over the Weste•• parts of the empire, a battle was eagerly desired 〈◊〉 the soldiers on either side. But neither general wa• willing to hazard it upon this occa••on; Pompey could not rely upon his new levies, and Caesar would no• venture an engagement till he was joined by the rest of his forces.

Caesar had now waited some time with extreme impatience for the coming up of the remainder of his army; and even ventured out alone in an open fisher boat to hasten its arrival, but he was driven back by a storm. However, his disappointment was soon relieved, by an information of the landing of the troops he had long expected at Appolionia, from whence they were approaching, under the conduct of Anthony and Calenus, to join him; he, therefore, decamped in order to meet them; and prevent Pompey with his army from engaging them on their march, as he lay on that side of the river, where the succours had been obliged to come on shore.

Pompey being compelled to retreat, led his forces to Asparagus, nigh Dyracchium, where he was sure of being supplied with every thing necessary for his army, by the numerous fleets which he employed along the coasts of Epirus: there he pitched his cam upon a tongue of land (as mariners express it) that jutted into the sea, where also was a small shelter for ships, where few winds could annoy them: in this place being most advantageously situated, he immediately began to entrench his camp; which Caesar perceiving, and finding that he was not likely soon to quit so advantageous a post, began to entrench also behind him. And as all beyond Pompey's camp, towards the land side, was hilly and steep; he built redoubts upon the hills, stretching round from shore to shore; and then caused lines of communication to be drawn from hill to hill, by which he blocked up the camp of the enemy. He hoped by this blockade, to force his opponent to a battle; which he ardently desired, and which the other with equal industry declined. Thus both sides continued for some time employed in designs and stratagems, the one to annoy and the other to defend. Caesar's men daily carried on their works to straiten the enemy; those of Pompey did the same to enlarge themselves, having the advantage of numbers, and severely galled the enemy by their slingers and ••••ers. Caesar, however, was indefatigable; he caused blinds or man•elets to be made of skins of •c••s, to cover his men while at work; he cut off all the water that supplied the enemy's camp, and forage from the horses; so that there remained no more subsistence for them. But Pompey at last resolved to break through his lines, and gain some other part of the country more convenient for encampment. Accordingly, having informed himself of the condition of Caesar's fortifications from some deserters who came over to him, he ordered his light infantry and archers on board his ships, with directions to attack Caesar's entrenchments by sea, where they were least defended. This was done with such effect, that though Caesar and his officers used their utmost endeavours to hinder Pompey's designs, yet, by means of reiterated attempts, he at last effected his purpose of extricating his army from his former camp, and of encamping in another place by the sea, where he had the conveniency of forage and shipping also. Caesar being thus frustrated in his views of blocking up the enemy, and perceiving the loss he had sustained, resolved at last to force Pompey to a battle, though upon disadvantageous terms. The engagement began by attempting to cut off a legion which was posted in a wood, and this brought on a general battle. The conflict was for some time carried on with great ardour, and with equal fortune; but Caesar's army being intangled in the entrenchments of the old camps lately abandoned, began to fall into disorder; upon which, Pompey pressing his advantage, they at last fled with great precipitation. Great numbers perished in the trenches and on the banks of the river, or were pressed to death by their fellows. Pompey pursued his successes to the very camp of Caesar: but either surprised with the suddenness of his victory, or fearful of an ambuscade, he withdrew his troops into his own camp, and thus lost an opportunity of securing his victory.

After this defeat, which was by no means decisive, Caesar marched▪ with all his forces united into one body, directly to Gomphi, a town in the province of Thessaly. But the news of his defeat at Dyracchium had reached this place before him; the inhabitants, therefore, who had before promised him obedience, now changed their minds; and, with a degree of baseness, equal to their imprudence, shut their gates against him. Caesar was not to be injured with impunity; wherefore, having represented to his soldiers the great advantage of forcing a place so very rich, he ordered the machines for scaling to be got ready; and causing an assault to be made, proceeded with such vigour, •hat, notwithstanding the great height of the walls, the town was taken in a few hours time. Caesar left it to be plundered, and, without delaying his march, went forward to Metropolis, another town of the same province, which yielded at his approach. By this means, he soon became possessed of all Thessaly, except Larissa, which was garrisoned by Scipio, with his legion, who commanded for Pompey. During this interval, Pompey's officers continually soliciting their commander to come to a battle, and incessantly teasing him with importunities to engage; he, at length, resolved, to renounce his own judgment, in compliance with those about him; and to give up all schemes of prudence for those dictated by avarice and passion. Wherefore advancing into Thessaly, within a few days after the taking of Gomphi, he drew down upon the plains of Pharsalia, where he was joined by Scipio, his lieutenant, with the troops under his command. There he wa••ed the coming up of Caesar, resolved upon engaging, and upon deciding the fate of the kingdoms at a single battle.

Caesar had employed all his art for some time in founding the in••inations of his men, and finding his array once more resolute and vigorous, he caused them to advance towards the plains of Pharsalia, where Pompey was now encamped, and prepared to oppose him.

The approach of these two great armies, composed of the best and bravest troops in the world, togethe• with the greatness of the prize for which they contended, filled all minds with anxiety, though with different expectations. Pompey's army, being mos• numerous, turned all their thoughts to the enjoyment of the victory; Caesar's, with better aims, considered only the means of obtaining it: Pompey'• army depended upon their numbers, and their man• generals; Caesar's, upon their own discipline, and the conduct of their single commander: Pompey'• partizans hoped much from the justice of thei• cause; Caesar's alledged the frequent proposals which they had made for peace without effect. Thus the views, hopes, and motives of both seemed different but their hatred and ambition were the same. Caesar who was ever foremost in offering battle, led out hi• army in array to meet the enemy; but Pompey• either suspecting his troops, or dreading the event• kept his advantageous situation for some time: he drew, indeed, sometimes out of his camp, but al¦ways kept himself under his trenches, at the foot o• the hill near which he was posted. Caesar being unwilling to attack him at a disadvantage, resolved t• decamp the next day, hoping to harrass out his anta¦gonist, who was not a match for him in sustainin• the fatigues of duty. Accordingly, the order fo• marching was given, and the tents struck, when word was brought him, that Pompey's army ha• quitted their entrenchments, and had advanced far¦ther into the plain than usual; so that he might en¦gage them at less disadvantage: whereupon he caused his troops, that were upon their march, to halt, and with a countenance of joy informed them, that the happy time was at last come, which they had so long wished for, and which was to crown their glory and •erminate their fatigues. Upon this he drew up his ••oops in order, and advanced towards the place of •attle. His forces did not amount to above half those •f Pompey; the army of the one amounting to above •orty-five thousand foot, and seven thousand horse; •hat of the other not exceeding twenty-two thousand •ot, and about a thousand horse. This dispropor ••on, particularly in the cavalry, had filled Caesar •ith apprehensions; wherefore he had some days be ••re picked out the strongest and nimblest of his foot-••ldiers, and accustomed them to fight between the ••nks of his cavalry. By their assistance, his thou ••nd horse was a match for Pompey's seven thousand, •••d had actually got the better in a skirmish that hap ••ned between them some days before.

Pompey, on the other hand, had strong expecta ••ons of success; he boasted, that he could put Caesar's ••gions to flight, without striking a single blow; ••esuming that, as soon as the armies formed, his ca •••ry, on which he placed his greatest expectations, •ould out-flank and surround the enemy. Labienus ••mmended this scheme of Pompey; alledging also, ••at the present troops, of which Caesar's army was ••mposed, were but the shadow of those old legions ••at had fought in Britain and Gaul; that all the ve •••ans were worn out, and had been replaced by new ••ies, made in a hurry, in Cisalpine Gaul. To ••crease the confidence of the army still more, he ••ok an oath, which the rest followed him in, never • return to the camp but with victory. In this dis ••sition, and under these advantageous circumstances, ••mpey led his troops to battle.

Pompey's order of battle was good and well judg ••. In the centre, and on the two flanks, he placed • his veterans, and distributed his new-raised troops ••tween the wings and the main body. The Syrian ••gions were placed in the centre, under the command of Scipio; the Spaniards, on whom he greatl• relied, were put on the right, under Domitius Aeno¦barbus; and on the left were stationed the two le¦gions, which Caesar had restored in the beginning o• the war, led on by Pompey himself; because from thence he intended to make the attack which was t• gain the day; and for the same reason he had ther• assembled all his horse, slingers and archers, of whic• his right wing had no need, being covered by th• river Enipeus. Caesar likewise divided his army in¦to three bodies under three commanders: Domitiu• Calvinus being placed in the centre, and Mark An¦thony on the left, while he himself led on the righ• wing, which was to oppose the left, commanded by Pompey. It is remarkable enough that Pompe• chose to put himself at the head of these troops which were disciplined and instructed by Caesar; an incon¦testible proof how much he valued them above any o• the rest of his army. Caesar, on the contrary, placed himself at the head of his tenth legion, that had owed all its merit and fame to his own training. As he observed the enemy's numerous cavalry to be all drawn to one spot, he guessed at Pompey's intention • to obviate which he made a draught of six cohort• from his rear line, and forming them into a separate body, concealed them behind his right wing, with instructions not to throw their javelins on the approach of Pompey's horse, as was customary, but to keep them in their hands and push them directly in the faces and the eyes of the horsemen, who, being composed of the younger part of the Roman nobility, valued themselves much upon their beauty, and dreaded a scar in the face more than a wound in the body. He, lastly, placed the little cavalry he had, s• as to cover the right of the tenth legion, ordering his third line not to march till they had received the signal from him.

As the armies approached, the two generals went from rank to rank encouraging their men, warming their hopes, and lessening their apprehensions. Pompey represented to his men, that the glorious occasion which they had long besought him to grant was now before him; "and indeed," cried he, ‘what advantages could you wish over an enemy that you are not now possessed of? Your numbers, your vigour, a late victory, all assure a speedy and an easy conquest of those harrassed and broken troops, composed of men worn out with age, and imprest with the terrors of a recent defeat, but there is still a stronger bulwark for our protection than the superiority of our strength, the justice of our cause. You are engaged in the defence of liberty and of your country; you are supported by its laws, and followed by its magistrates; you have the world spectators of your conduct, and wishing you success: on the contrary, he whom you oppose is a robber and oppressor of his country, and almost already sunk with the consciousness of his crimes, as well as the bad success of his arms. Shew, then, on this occasion, all that ardour and detestation of tyranny that should animate Romans, and do justice to mankind.’ Caesar, on his side, went among his men with that steady serenity for which he was so much admired in the midst of danger. He insisted on nothing so strongly to his soldiers, as his frequent and unsuccessful endeavours for peace. He talked with terror of the blood he was going to shed, and pleaded only the necessity that urged him to it. He deplored the many brave men that were to fall on both sides, and the wounds of his country, whoever should be victorious. His soldiers answered his speech with looks of ardour and impatience; which observing, he gave the signal to begin. The word on Pompey's side was, Hercules the invincible: that on Caesar's. Venus the victorious. There was only so much space between both armies as to give root• for fighting; wherefore Pompey ordered his men • receive the first shock without moving out of the•• places, expecting the enemies ranks to be put int• disorder by their motion. Caesar's soldiers were no• rushing on with their usual impetuosity, when, per¦ceiving the enemy motionless, they all stopt shor• as if by general consent, and halted in the midst o• their career. A terrible pause ensued, in which bot• armies continued to gaze upon each other with mu¦tual terror and dreadful serenity: at length, Caesar• men having taken breath, ran furiously upon the ene¦my, first discharging their javelins and then drawin• their swords. The same method was observed b• Pompey's troops, who as vigorously sustained the a•¦tack. His cavalry also were ordered to charge at th• very onset, which, with the multitude of archers an• flingers, soon obliged Caesar's men to give ground • whereupon Caesar immediately ordered the six co¦horts, that were placed as a reinforcement, to ad¦vance, with orders, to strike at the enemies face• This had its desired effect; the cavalry, that we•• but just now sure of victory, received an immedia•• check: the unusal method of sighting pursued by th• cohorts, their aiming entirely at the visages of th• assailants, and the horrible disfiguring wounds the• made, all contributed to intimidate them so muc• that, instead of defending their persons, their on• endeavour was to save their faces. A total rout es¦sued of their whole body, which fled in great diso•¦der to the neighbouring mountains, while the arche• and slingers, who were thus abandoned, were o• to pieces. Caesar now commanded the cohorts • pursue their success, and advancing, charged Pom¦pey's troops upon the flank: this charge the enem• withstood for some time with great bravery, till • brought up his third line, which had not yet enga•¦ed. Pompey's infantry being thus doubly attack• in front by fresh troops, and in rear by the victorious cohorts, could no longer resist, but fled to their camp. The flight began among the strangers, though Pompey's right wing still valiantly maintained their ground. Caesar, however, being convinced that the victory was certain, with his usual clemency, cried cut to pursue the strangers, but to spare the Romans; upon which they all laid down their arms and received quarter. The greatest slaughter was among the auxiliaries, who fled on all quarters, but principally went for safety to the camp. The battle had now lasted from the break of day till noon, the weather being extremely hot; nevertheless, the conquerors did not remit their ardour, being encouraged by the example of their general, who thought his victory not complete till he was master of the enemy's camp. Accordingly, marching on foot at their head, he called upon them to follow and strike the decisive blow. The cohorts, which were left to defend the camp, for some time made a formidable resistance; particularly a great number of Thracians and other barbarians, who were appointed for its defence: but nothing could resist the ardour of Caesar's victorious army; they were at last driven from their trenches, and all fled to the mountains not far off. Caesar seeing the field and camp strewed with his fallen countrymen, was strongly affected at so melancholy a prospect, and could not help crying out to one that ••ood near him, "They would have it so." Upon entering the enemies camp, every object presented fresh instances of the blind presumption and madness of his adversaries: on all sides were to be seen •ents adorned with ivy and branches of myrtle, couches covered with purple, and side-boards loaded with plate. Every thing gave proofs of the highest luxury, and seemed rather the preparatives for a banquet, the rejoicings for a victory, than the dispositions for a battle. A camp so richly furnished, might have been able to engage the attention of any troops but Caesar's; there was still something to be done, and he would not permit them to pursue any other object than their enemies, till they were entirely subdued. A considerable body of these having retired to the adjacent mountains, he prevailed on his soldiers to join him in the pursuit, in order to oblige these to surrender. He began by inclosing them with a line drawn at the foot of the mountain; but they quickly abandoned a post which was not tenable for want of water, and endeavoured to reach the city of Larissa. Caesar led a part of his army by a shorter way, and intercepted their retreat, drawing up in order of battle between them and the city. However, these unhappy fugitives once more found protection from a mountain, at the foot of which a rivulet ran which supplied them with water. Now night approaching, Caesar's men were almost spent, and ready to faint with their incessant toil since morning, yet still he prevailed upon them once more to renew their labours, and to cut off the rivulet that supplied the defendants. The sugitives, thus deprived of all hopes of succour or subsistence, sent deputies to the conqueror, offering to surrender at discretion. During this interval of negociation, a few senators that were among them, took the advantage of the night to escape, and the rest next morning gave up their arms, and experienced the conqueror's clemency. In fact, he addressed them with great gentleness, and forbade his soldiers to offer them any violence, or to take any thing from them. Thus Caesar, by his conduct, gained the most complete victory that had ever been obtained; and by his great clemency after the battle, seemed to have deserved it. His loss amounted to but two hundred men; that of Pompey to fifteen thousand, as well Romans as auxiliaries: twenty-four thousand men surrendered themselves prisoners of war, and the greatest part of these entered into Caesar's army, and were incorporated with the rest of his forces. As to the senators and Roman knights who fell into his hands, he generously gave them liberty to retire wherever they thought proper: and as for the letters which Pompey had received from several persons who wished to be thought neutral, he burnt them all without reading them, as Pompey had done upon a former occasion. Thus having performed all the duties of a general and a statesman, he sent for the legions which had paled the night in the camp, to relieve those which had accompanied him in the pursuit, and arrived the same day at Larissa.

As for Pompey, who had formerly shewn such instances of courage and conduct, when he saw his cavalry routed, on which he had placed his sole dependence, he absolutely loft his reason. Instead of thinking how to remedy this disorder by rallying such troops as sled, or by opposing fresh troops to stop the progress of the conquerors, being totally amazed by this first blow, he returned to the camp, and in his tent waited the issue of an event, which it was his duty to direct, not to follow: there he remained for some moments without speaking, till being told, that the camp was attacked, "What," says he, ‘are we pursued to our very entrenchments?’ and immediately quitting his armour for a habit more suited to his circumstances, he fled away on horseback to Larissa; from whence, perceiving he was not pursued, he slackened his pace, g••ing way to all the agonizing reflections which his •eplo•a••• situation must naturally suggest. In this melancholy manner he passed along the vale of Tempe, and pursuing the course of the river Peneus, at last arrived at a fisherman's hut, in which he passed the night. From thence he went on board a little b••k▪ and keeping along the sea-shore, he dise••ed a s•ip of some burthen, which seemed preparing to sail, in which he embarked, the master of the vessel still paying him the homage which was due to this former station. From the mouth of the river Poneus he sailed to Amphipolis, where finding his affairs desperate, he s•eered to Lesbos, to take in his wife Cornelia, whom he had left there, at a distance from the dangers and hurry of the war. She, who had long flattered herself with the hopes of victory, felt the reverse of her fortune in an agony of distress: she was desired by the messenger, whose tears, more than words, proclaimed the greatness of her misfortunes, to hasten, if she expected to see Pompey, with but one ship, and even that not his own: her grief, which before was violent, became then insupportable; she fainted away, and lay a considerable time without any signs of life. At length, recovering herself, and reflecting it was now no time for vain lamentations, she ran quite through the city to the sea-side. Pompey embraced her, without speaking a word, and for some time, supported her in his arms in silent despair.

Having taken in Cornelia, he now continued his course, steering to the south-east, and stopping no longer than was necessary to take in provisions at the ports that occurred in his passage. He was at last prevailed upon to apply to Ptolemy, king of Egypt, to whose father Pompey had been a considerable benefactor. Ptolemy, who was as yet a minor, had not the government in his own hands, but he and his kingdom were under the direction of Photinus, an eunuch, and Theodotus, a master of the art of speaking. These advised, that Pompey should be invited on shore, and there slain; and, accordingly, Achillas, the commander of the forces, and Septimius, by birth a Roman, and who had formerly been a centurion in Pompey's army, were appointed to carry their opinions into execution. Being attended by three or four more, they went into a little bark, and rowed off from land towards Pompey's ship, that lay about a mile from the shore. Pompey, after having taken leave of Cornelia, who wept at his departure, and having repeated two verses of Sophocles, signifying, that he who trusts his freedom to a tyrant, from that moment becomes a slave, gave his hand to Achillas, and stept into the bark, with only two attendants of his own. They had now rowed from the ship a good way, and as during that time they all kept a profound silence, Pompey, willing to begin the discourse, accosted Septimius, whose face he recollected. "Methinks, friend," cried he "you and I were once fellow-soldiers together." Septimius gave only a nod with his head, without uttering a word, or instancing the least civility. Pompey, therefore, took out a paper, on which he had minuted a speech he intended to make to the king, and began reading it. In this manner they approached the shore; and Cornelia, whose concern had never suffered her to lose sight of her husband, began to conceive hope, when she perceived the people on the strand crowding down along the coasts, as if willing to receive him: but her hopes were soon destroyed; for that instant, as Pompey rose, supporting himself upon his freedman's arm, Septimius stabbed him in the back, and was instantly seconded by Achillas. Pompey perceiving his death inevitable, only disposed himself to meet it with decency, and covering his face with his robe, without speaking a word, with a sigh resigned himself to his fate. At this horrid sight Cornelia shrieked so loud as to be heard to the shore; but the danger she herself was in did not allow the mariners time to look on; they immediately set sail, and the wind proving favourable, fortunately they escaped the pursuit of the Egyptian gallies. In the mean time, Pompey's murderers having cut off his head, caused it to be embalmed, the better to preserve its features, designing it for a present to Caesar. The body was thrown naked on the strand, and exposed to the view of all those whose curiosity led them that way. However, his faithful freedman, Philip, still kept near it, and when the crowd was dispersed he washed it in the sea, and looking round for materials to burn it, he perceived the wrecks of a fishing-boat, of which he composed a pile. While he was thus piously employed, he was accosted by an old Roman soldier who had served under Pompey in his youth. ‘Who art thou,’ said he, ‘that art making these humble preparations for Pompey's funeral?’ Philip having answered, that he was one of his freedmen "Alas," replied the soldier, ‘permit me to share in this honour also: among all the miseries of my exile, it will be my last sad comfort, that I have been able to assist at the funeral of my old commander, and touch the body of the bravest general that ever Rome produced.’ After this, they both joined in giving the corpse the last rites, and collecting his ashes, buried them under a little rising earth, scraped together with their hands, over which was afterwards placed the following inscription: He whose merits deserve a temple can now scar• find a tomb.

CHAP. XXI. From the destruction of the Commonwealth to the establishment of the first emperor Augustus.

CAESAR has been much celebrated for his fortune, and yet his abilities seem equal to his highest success. He possessed many shining qualities, without the intermixture of any defect but that of ambition. His talents were such as would have rendered him victorious at the head of any army he commanded, and he would have governed in any republic that had given him birth. Having now gained a most complete victory, his success only seemed to increase his activity, and inspire him with fresh resolution to face new dangers. He resolved, therefore, to pursue his last advantage, and follow Pompey to whatever country he should retire; convinced that during his life he might gain new triumphs, but could never enjoy security.

Accordingly, losing no time, he set sail for Egypt, and arrived at Alexandria with about four thousand men; a very inconsiderable force to keep such a powerful kingdom under subjection. Upon his landing, the first accounts he received were of Pompey's miserable end; and soon after one of the murderers came with his head and ring, as a most grateful present to the conqueror. But Caesar had too much humanity to be pleased with such an horrid spectacle: he turned away from it with disgust; and, after a short pause, gave vent to his pity in a flood of tears. He shortly after ordered a magnificent tomb to be built to his memory, on the spot where he was murdered; and a temple near the place to Nemesis, who was the goddess that punished those that were cruel to men in adversity.

It should seem that the Egyptians by this time had same hopes of breaking off all alliance with the Romans, which they considered, as in fact it was, but aspecious subjection. They first began to take offence at Caesar's carrying the ensigns of Roman power before him as he entered the city. Photinus, the eunuch, also treated him with great disrespect, and even attempted his life. Caesar, however, concealed his resentment till he had a force sufficient to punish his treachery; and sending privately for the legions which had been formerly enrolled for Pompey's service, as being the nearest to Egypt, he, in the mean time, pretended to repose an entire confidence in the king's minister, making great entertainments, and assisting at the conferences of the philosophers, who were in great numbers at Alexandria. However, he soon changed his manner when he found himself in no danger from the minister's attempts, and declared, that, as being Roman consul, it was his duty to settle the succession of the Egyptian crown.

There were at that time two pretenders to the crown of Egypt; Ptolemy, the acknowledged king; and the celebrated Cleopatra, his sister; to whom, by the custom of the country, he also was married; and who, by his father's will, shared jointly in the succession. Not being contented with a bare participation of power, Cleopatra aimed at governing alone; but being opposed in her views by the Roman senate, who confirmed her brother's title to the crown, she was banished into Syria with Arsinoe her younger sister. Caesar gave her new hopes of aspiring to the kingdom, and sent to both her and her brother to plead their cause before him. Photinus, the young king's guardian, disdained accepting this proposal, and backed his refusal by sending an army of twenty thousand men to besiege him in Alexandria. Caesar bravely repulsed the enemy for some time; but finding the city of too great extent to be defended by so small an army as he then commanded, he retired to the palace, which commanded the harbour, where he purposed to make his stand. Achillas, who commanded the Egyptians, attacked him there with great vigour, and still aimed at making himself master of the fleet that lay before the palace. Caesar, however, too well knew the importance of those ships in the hands of an enemy; and therefore burnt them all, in spite of every effort to prevent him. He next possest himself of the isle of Pharos, which was the key to the Alexandrian port; by which he was enabled to receive the supplies sent him from all sides; and, in this situation, he determined to withstand the united force of all the Egyptians.

In the mean time, Cleopatra, having heard of the present turn in her favour, resolved to depend rather on Caesar's favour for gaining the government, than her own forces. But no arts, as she justly conceived, were so likely to influence Caesar as the charms of her person, which, though not faultless, were yet extremely seducing. She was now in the bloom of youth, and every feature borrowed grace from the lively turn of her temper. To the most enchanting address she joined the most harmonious voice. With all these accomplishments, she possessed a great share of the learning of the times, and could give audience to the ambassadors of seven different nations without an interpreter. The difficulty was how to get at Caesar, as her enemies were in possession of all the avenues that led to the palace. For this purpose she went on board a small vessel, and, in the evening, landed near the palace, where, being wrapt up in a coverlet, she was carried by one Aspolodorus into the very chamber of Cresar. Her address, at first, pleased him; her wit and understanding still fanned the flame; but her caresses, which were carried beyond the bounds of innocence, intirely brought him over to second her claims.

While Cleopatra was thus employed in forwarding her own views, her sister Arsinoe was also strenuously engaged in the camp, in pursuing a separate interest. She had found means, by the assistance of one Ganymede, her confident, to make a large division in the Egyptian army in her favour; and soon after, by one of those sudden revolutions which are common in barbarian camps to this day, she caused Achillas to be murdered, and Ganymede to take the command in his stead, and to carry on the siege with greater vigour than before. Ganymede's principal effort was by letting in the sea upon those canals which supplied the palace with fresh water; but this inconvenience Caesar remedied by digging a great number of wells. His next endeavour was, to prevent the junction of Caesar•s twenty-fourth legion, which he twice attempted in vain. He soon after made himself master of a bridge which joined the isle of Pharos to the continent, from which post Caesar was resolved to dislodge him. In the heat of the action, some mariners, partly through curiosity, and partly ambition, came and joined the combatants, but, being seized with a panic, instantly fled, and spread a general terror through the army. All Caesar's endeavours to rally his forces were in vain, the confusion was past remedy, and numbers were drowned or put to the sword in attempting to escape. Now, therefore, seeing the irremediable disorder of his troops, he retired to a ship, in order to get 〈◊〉 the palace that was just opposite: however, he was no sooner on board than great crowds entered at the same time with him; upon which, apprehensive of the ship's sinking, he jumped into the sea, and swam two hundred paces to the fleet that lay before, the palace, all the time holding his own Commentaries in his left hand above water, and his coat of mail in his teeth.

The Alexandrians, finding their efforts to take the palace ineffectual, endeavoured, at least, to get their king out of Caesar's power, as he had seized upon his person in the beginning of their disputes. For this purpose they made use of their customary arts of dissimulation, professing the utmost desire of peace, and only wanting the presence of their lawful prince to give a sanction to the treaty. Caesar, who was sensible of their perfidy, nevertheless concealed his suspicions, and gave them their king, as he was under no apprehensions from the abilities of a boy. Ptolemy, however, the instant he was set at liberty, instead of promoting the peace, made every effort to give vigour to his hostilities.

In this manner Caesar was hemmed in for some time by this artful and insiduous enemy, with all manner of difficulties against him; but he was at last re••eved from this mortifying situation by Mithridates Pergamenus, one of his most faithful partizans, who came with an army to his assistance. This general, collecting a numerous army in Syria, marched into Egypt, took the city of Pelusium, repulsed the Egyptian army with loss, and at last, joining with Caesar, attacked their camp with a great slaughter of the Egyptians: Ptolemy himself, attempting to escape on board a vessel that was failing down the river, was drowned by the ship's sinking, and Caesar thus became master of all Egypt without any farther opposition. He therefore, appointed Cleopatra, with her younger brother, who was then but an infant, as joint governors, according to the intent of their father's will, and drove out Arsinoe with Ganymede into banishment.

Having thus given away kingdoms, he now for a while, seemed to relax from the usual activity of his consult, captivated with the charms of Cleopatra. Instead of quitting Egypt to go and quell the remains of Pompey's party, he there abandoned himself to his pleasures, passing whole nights in feasting, and all the excuses of high-wrought luxury, with the young queen. He even resolved to attend her up the Nile into Aethiopia; but the brave veterans who had long followed his fortune, boldly reprehended his conduct, and refused to be partners in so infamous an expedition. Thus, at length, rouzed from his lethargy, he resolved to prefer the call of ambition to that of love, and to leave Cleopatra, (by whom he had a son who was afterwards named Caesario,) in order to oppose Pharnces, the king of Bosphorus, who had made some inroads upon the dominions of Rome.

This prince, who was the son of the great Mithridates, being ambitious of recovering his father's dominions, seized upon Armenia and Colchis, and overcame Domitius, who had been sent against him. Upon Caesar's march to oppose him, Pharnaces, who was as much terrified at the name of the general as at the strength of his army, laboured, by all the arts of negociation, to avert the impending danger Caesar, exasperated at his crimes and ingratitude, a• first dissembled with the ambassadors, and, using all expedition, fell upon the enemy unexpectedly, and in a few hours, obtained a speedy and complete victory. Pharnaces attempting to take refuge in his capital, was slain by one of his own commanders— A just punishment for his former parricide. But Caesar conquered him with so much ease, that, in writing to a friend at Rome, he exprest the rapidity of his victory in three words, "Veni, vidi, vici:" man so accustomed to conquest, thought a slight battle scarce worth a longer letter.

Caesar having settled affairs in this part of the empire, as well as time would permit, embarked for Italy, where he arrived sooner than his enemies could expect, but not before his affairs there absolutely required his presence. He had been, during his absence, created consul for five years, dictator for one year, and tribune of the people for life. But Anthony, who in the mean time governed in Rome for him, had filled the city with riot and debaucher•, and many commotions ensued, which nothing but the arrival of Caesar so opportunely could appeased However, by his moderation and humanity, he soon restored tranquility to the city, scarce making any distinction between those of his own and the opposite party. Having by gentle means restored his authority at home, he prepared to march into Africa, where Pompey's party had found time to rally under Scipio and Cato, assisted by Juba, king of Mauritania; and with his usual diligence, landed with a small party in Africa, while the rest of his army followed him. Scipio coming to a battle soon after, received a complete and final overthrow, with little or no loss on the side of the victor. Juba and Petreius his general killed each other in despair; Scipio, attempting to escape by sea into Spain, fell in among the enemy and was slain; so that, of all the generals of that undone party, Cato was now the only one that remained.

This extraordinary man, whom no prosperity could fate, nor no misfortune depress, having retired into Africa after the battle of Pharsalia, had led the wretched remains of that defeat through burning deserts and tracts infested with serpents of various malignity, and was now in the city of Utica, which he had been left to defend. Still, however, in love with even the shew of Roman government, he had formed the principal citizens into a senate, and conceived a resolution of holding out the town. But the enthusiasm for liberty subsiding among his followers, he was resolved no longer to force men to be free who seemed naturally prone to slavery. He now, therefore, desired some of his friends to save themselves 〈◊〉 sea, and bade others to rely upon Caesar's clemency; observing, that, as to himself, he was at 〈◊〉 victorious. After this, supping chearfully among •is friends, he retired to his apartment, where he behaved with unusual tenderness to his son, and to 〈◊〉 his friends. When he came into his bed-chamber, he laid himself down, and took up Plato's •••logue on the immortality of the soul; and, hav •ng read for some time, happening to cast his eyes 〈◊〉 the head of his bed, he was much surprized not 〈◊〉 had his sword there, which had been taken away by his son's order while they were at supper. Upon this, calling one of his domestics to know what was become of his sword, and receiving no answer, he resumed his studies; but some time after called for his sword again. When he had done reading, and perceiving nobody obeyed him in bringing his sword, he called his domestics one after the other, and with a peremptory air demanded his sword once more. His son came in soon after, and with tears besought him in the most humble manner to change his resolution; but receiving a stern reprimand, he desisted from his persuasions. His sword being at length brought him, he seemed sati•fied, and cried out, "Now again I am m•ster of myself." He then took up the book again, which he lead twice over, and fell into a sound sleep. Upon awaking, he called to one of his freedmen to know if his friends were embarked, or if any thing yet remained that could be done to serve them. The freedmen assuring him that all was quiet, he was then ordered again to leave the room; and Cato was no sooner alone than he stabbed himself with his sword through the breast, but not with that force he intended, for the wound not dispatching him, he fell upon his bed, and at the same time overturned a table on which he had been drawing some geometrical figures. At the noise he made in his fall, his servants gave a shrick• and his son and friends immediately entered the room, They found him westering in his blood, and his bowels pushed out through the wound. The physician, who attended his family, perceiving than his intestines were yet untouched, was for replacing them; but when Cato had recovered his senses, and understood their intention to preserve his life, he pushed the physician from him, and with a fierce resolution tore out his bowels and •xpired.

Upon the death of Cato, the war in Africa being completed, Caesar returned in triumph to Rome; and, as if he had abridged all his former triumphs only to encrease the splendor of this, the citizens were astonished at the magnificence of the procession, and the number of the countries he had subdued. It lasted four days: the first was for Gaul, the second for Egypt, the third for his victories in Asia, and the fourth for that over Juba in Africa. His veteran soldiers, all scarred with wounds, and now laid up for life, followed their triumphant general crowned with laurels, and conducted him to the Capitol. To every one of these he gave a sum equivalent to about an hundred and fifty pounds of our money, double that sum to the centurions, and four times as much to the superior officers. The citizens also shared his bounty; to every one of which he distributed ten bushels of corn, ten pounds of oil, and a sum of money equal to about two pounds sterling of ours. He, after this, entertained the people at above twenty thousand tables, treated them with the combat of gladiators, and filled Rome with a concourse of spectators from every part of Italy.

The people, intoxicated with the allurements of pleasure, thought their freedom too small a return for such benefits: they seemed eager only to find out new modes of homage, and unusual epithets of adulation for their great enslaver. He was created by a new title Magister Morum, or master of the morals of the people; he received the title of emperor, father of his country; his person was declared sacred; and, in short, upon him alone were devolved for life all the great dignities of the state. It must be owned, however, that so much power could never have been entrusted to b•tter keeping. He immediately began his empire by repressing vice and encouraging virtue. He comm•tted the power of judicature to the senators and the knights alone, and by many sumptuary laws 〈…〉 scandalous luxuries of the rich. He proposed rewards to all such as had many children, and took the most prudent methods of repeopling the city that had been exhausted in the late commotions.

Having thus restored prosperity once more to Rome, he again found himself under a necessity of going into Spain to oppose an army which had been raised there under the two sons of Pompey, and also Labicnus his former general. He proceeded in this expedition with his usual celerity, and arrived in Spain before the enemy thought him yet departed from Rome. Cneius and Sextus, Pompey's sons, profiting by their unhappy father's example, resolved as much as possible to protract the war; so that the first operations of the two armies were spent in sieges and fruitless attempts to surprise each other▪ At length Caesar, after taking many cities from the enemy, and pursuing Pompey with unwearied perseverance, at last compelled him to come to a battle upon the plains of Munda. Pompey drew up his men by break of day upon the declivity of an hill with great exactness and order. Caesar drew up his men likewise in the plain below; and, after advancing a little way from his trenches, he ordered his men to make an halt, expecting the enemy to come down from the hill. This delay made Caesar's soldiers begin to murmur, while Pompey's with full vigour poured down upon them, and a dreadful conflict ensued. The first shock was so dreadful, that Caesar's men, who had hitherto been used to conquer now began to waver. Caesar was never in so much danger as now; he threw himself several times into the very throng of battle. "What," cried he, ‘are you going to give up your general, who is grown grey in fighting at your head, to a parcel of boy?’ Upon this, his tenth legion exerted themselves with more than former bravery; and a party of horse being detached by Labienus from the camp in pursuit of a body of Numidian cavalry, Caesar cried aloud, that they were flying. This cry instantly spread itself through both armies, exciting the one as much as it depressed the other. Now, therefore, the tenth legion pressed forward, and a total rout soon ensued. Thirty thousand men were killed on Pompey's side, amongst whom was Labienus, whom Caesar ordered to be buried with the funeral honours of a general officer. Cneius Pompey escaped with a few horsemen to the sea-side, but finding his passage intercepted by Caesar's lieutenant, he was obliged to seek for a retreat in an obscure cavern. He was quickly discovered by some of Caesar's troops, who presently cut off his head and brought it to the conqueror. His brother Sextus, however, concealed himself so well that he escaped all pursuit; and afterwards became very noted and formidable from his piracies to the people of Rome.

Caesar by this last blow subdued all his avowed enemies, and the rest of his life was employed for the advantage of the state. He adorned the city with magnificent buildings; he rebuilt Carthage and Corinth, sending colonies to both cities; he undertook to level several mountains in Italy, to drain the Pontine marshes near Rome, and designed to cut through the isthmus of Peloponnesus. Thus, with a mind that could never remain inactive, he pondered mighty projects and designs beyond the limits of the longest life; but the greatest of all was his intended expedition against the Parthians, by which he designed to revenge the death of Crassus, who, having penetrated too far into their country, was overthrown, himself taken prisoner, and put to a cruel death, by having molten gold poured down his throat, as a punishment for his former avarice. From thence Caesar intended to pass through Hyrcania, and enter Scythia along the banks of the Caspian sea; then to open himself a way through the immeasurable forests of Germany into Gaul, and so to return to Rome. These were the aims of ambition: the jealousy of a few individuals put an end to them all.

Having been made perpetual dictator, and received from the senate accumulated honours, it began to be rumoured that he intended to make himself king, and, though in fact he was possessed of the power, the people, who had an utter aversion to the name• could not bea• his assuming the title. Whether he really designed to assume that empty honour must now for ever remain a secret; but certain it is, that the unsuspecting openness of his conduct marked something like a confidence in the innocence of his intentions. When informed by those about him of the jealousies of many persons who envied his power, he was heard to say, that he had rather die once by treason, than to live continually in apprehension of it. When advised by some to beware of Brutus, in whom he had for some time reposed the greatest confidence, he opened his breast, all scarred with wounds, saying, ‘Can you think Brutus cares for such poor pillage as this?’ and being one night at supper, as his friends disputed among themselves what death was easiest, he replied, that which was most sudden, and least foreseen. But to convince the world how little he had to apprehend from his enemies, he disbanded his company of Spanish guards, which facilitated the enterprize against his life.

A deep conspiracy was, therefore, laid against him, composed of no less than sixty senators. They were still the more formidable, as the generality of them were of his own party; who having been raised above other citizens, felt more strongly the weight of a single superior. At the head of this conspiracy were Brutus, whose life Caesar had spared after the battle of Pharsalia; and Cassius, who was pardoned soon after; both praetors for the present year. Brutus made it his chief glory to have been descended from that Brutus who first gave liberty to Rome. The passion for freedom seemed to have been transmitted with the blood of his ancestors down to him. But though he detested tyranny, yet he could not forbear loving the tyrant, from whom he had received the most signal benefits.

The conspirators, to give a colour of justice to their proceedings, remitted the execution of their design to the ides of March, the day on which Caesar was to be offered the crown. The augurs had foretold that this day would be fatal to him, and the night preceding he heard his wise Calpurnia lamenting in her sleep, and being awakened she confessed to him, that she dreamt of his being assassinated in her arms. These omens, in some measure, began to change his intentions of going to the senate, as he had resolved, that day; but one of the conspirators coming in, prevailed upon him to keep his resolution, telling him of the reproach that would attend his •taying at home till his wife had lucky dreams, and of the preparations that were made for his appearance. As he went along to the senate, a slave, who hastened to him with information of the conspiracy, attempted to come near him, but could not for the crowd. Arternidorus, a Greek philosopher, who had discovered the whole plot, delivered him a memorial containing the heads of his information; but Caesar gave it, with other papers, to one of his secretaries without reading, as was usual in things of this nature. Being at length entered the senate-house, where the conspirators were prepared to receive him, he met one Spurina, an augur, who had foretold his danger, to whom he said, smiling, ‘Well, Spurina, the ides of March are come.’ "Yes," replied the augur, "but they are not yet over." As soon as he had taken his place, the conspirators came near him under pretence of saluting him; and Cim¦ber, who was one of them, approached in a sup¦pliant posture, pretending to sue for his brother pardon, who had been banished by his order. A• the conspirators seconded him with great earnestness and Cimber, seeming to sue with still greater sub¦mission, took hold of the bottom of his robe, holding him so as to prevent his rising. This was the signa• agreed on. Casca, who was behind, stabbed him though slightly, in the shoulder. Caesar instantly turn¦ed round, and, with the steel of his tablet, wounde• him in the arm. However, all the conspirators were now alarmed, and, inclosing him round, he received a second stab from an unknown hand in the breast, while Cassius wounded him in the face. He still defended himself with great vigour, rushing among them, and throwing down such as opposed him, till he saw Brutus among the conspirators, who, coming up, struck his dagger into his thigh. From that moment Caesar thought no more of defending himself, but looking upon this conspirator, cried out, "And you too, my son!" Then covering his head, and spreading his robe before him, in order to fall with greater decency, he sunk down at the base of Pompey's statue, after receiving three and twenty wounds from hands which he vainly supposed he had disarmed by his benefits.

Caesar was killed in the fifty-sixth year of his age, and about fourteen years after he began the conquest of the world. If we examine his history, we shall be equally at a loss whether most to admire his great abilities or his wonderful fortune▪ To pretend to say that from the beginning he planned the subjection of his native country, is doing no great credit to his well-known penetration, as a thousand obstacles lay in his way, which fortune, rather than conduct▪ was to surmount. No man, therefore, of his sagacity, would have begun a scheme in which the chances of succeeding were so many against him: it is most probable that, like all very succesful men, he only made the best of every occurrence; and his ambition rising with his good fortune, from at first being contented with humbler aims, he at last began to think of governing the world, when he found scarce any obstacle to oppose his designs. Such is the disposition of man, whose cravings after power are always most insatiable when he enjoys the greatest share.

As soon as the conspirators had dispatched Caesar, they all retired to the Capitol, and guarded its acc•sses by a body of gladiators which Brutus had in pay.

The friends of the late dictator now began to find that this was the time for coming into greater power than before, and for satisfying their ambition under the veil of promoting justice. Of this number was Antony, whom we have already seen acting as a lieutenant under Caesar, and governing Rome in his absence. He was a man of moderate abilities and excessive vices, ambitious of power only because it gave his pleasures a wider range to riot in; but skilled in war, to which he had been trained from his youth. He was consul for this year, and resolved, with Lepidus, who was fond of commotions like himself, to seize this opportunity of gaining that power which Caesar had died for usurping. Lepidus, therefore, took possession of the Forum with a band of soldiers at his devotion; and Antony, being consul, was permitted to command them. Their first step was to possess themselves of all Caesar's papers and money, and the next to convene the senate. Never had this august assembly been convened upon so delicate an occasion, as it was to determine, whether Caesar had been a legal magistrate or a tyrannical usuper; and whether those who killed him merited rewards or punishments. There were many of these who had received all their promotions from Caesar, and had acquired large fortunes in consequence of his appointments: to vote him an usurper, therefore, would be to endanger their property; and yet, to vote him innocent, might endanger the state. In this dilemma they seemed willing to reconcile extremes; wherefore they approved all the acts of Caesar, and yet granted a general pardon to all the conspirators.

This decree was very far from giving Anthony satisfaction, as it granted security to a number of men who were the avowed enemies of tyranny, and who would be foremost in opposing his schemes of restoring absolute power. As, therefore, the senate had ratified all Caesar's acts without distinction, he formed a scheme upon this of making him rule when dead as imperiously as he bad done when living. Being, as was said, possessed of Caesar's books of accounts, he so far gained upon his secretary as to make him insert whatever he thought proper. By these means great sums of money, which Caesar would never have bestowed, were there distributed among the people; and every man who had any seditious designs against the government was there sure of finding a gratuity. Things being in this situation, Antony demanded of the senate, that Caesar's funeral obsequies should be performed, which they could not decently forbid, as they had never declared him a tyrant: accordingly, the body was brought forth into the Forum with the utmost solemnity; and Antony, who charged himself with these last duties of friendship, began his operations upon the passions of the people by the prevailing motives of private interest. He first read them Caesar's will, in which he had left Octavius, his sister's grandson, his heir, permitting him to take the name of Caesar, and three parts of his private fortune; and Brutus was to inherit in case of his death. The Roman people were left the gardens which he had on the other side of the Tyber; and every citizen, in particular, was to receive three hundred sesterces; and unfolding Caesar's bloody, robe in sight of the multitude, he took care they should observe the number of stabs in it: then displayed an image which to them appeared the body of Caesar all covered with wounds. They could no longer contain their indignation, but unanimously cried out for revenge, and ran, with flaming brands from the pile, to set fire to the conspirators houses. In this rage of resentment, meeting with one Cinna, whom they mistook for another of the same name who was in the conspiracy, they tore him in pieces. The conspirators themselves, however, being well guarded, repulsed the multitude with no great trouble; but perceiving the rage of the people, they thought it, soon after, safest to retire from the city.

In the mean time, Anthony, who had excited this f•ame, resolved to make the best of the occasion. But •n obstacle to his ambition seemed to arise from a quarter on which he least expected it, namely, from Octavius Caesar, after •ards called Augustus, who was the grand nephew and adopted son of Caesar. A third competitor also for power appeared in Lepidus, a man of some authority and great riches at Rome. At first the ambition of these once seemed to threaten fatal consequences to each other, but uniting soon after in the common cause, they resolved to revenge the death of Caesar, and dividing all power among themselves, formed what is called the second Triumvirate

The meeting of these three usurpers of their country's freedom, was near Mutina, upon a little island of the river Panarus. Their mutual suspicions were the cause o• their meeting in a place where they could not fear any treachery; for, even in their union, they could not divest themselves of mutual dissidence. Lepidus first entered; and, finding all things safe, made the signal for the other two to approach. They embraced each other upon their first meeting; and Augustus began the conference, by thanking Antony for his zeal, in putting Decimus Brutus to death; who, being abandoned by his army, was taken, as he was designing to escape into Macedonia, and beheaded by Antony's command. They then entered upon the business that lay before them, without any retrospection of the past. Their conference lasted for three days; and, in this period, they fixed a division of government, and determined upon the fate of thousands. The result of which was, that the supreme authority should be lodged in their hands, under the title of the Triumvirate, for the space of five years; that Antony should have Gaul; Lepidus, Spain; and Augustus, Africa, and the Mediterranean islands. As for Italy, and the eastern provinces, they were to remain in common, until their general enemy was entirely subdued; where, among other articles of union, it was agreed, that all their enemies should be destroyed, of which each presented a list. In these were comprised, not only the enemies, but the friends of the Triumvirate, since the partizans of the one were often found among the opposers of the other. Thus Lepidus gave up his brother Paulus to the vengeance of his colleague; Antony permitted the proscription of his uncle Lucius; and Augustus delivered up the great Cicero, who was assassinated shortly after by Antony's command.

In the mean time, Brutus and Cassius, the principal of the conspirators against Caesar, being compelled to quit Rome, went into Greece, where they persuaded the Roman students at Athens to declare in the cause of freedom; then parting, the forme• raised a powerful army in Macedonia, and the adja¦cent countries, while the latter went into Syria where he soon became master of twelve legions, and reduced his opponent, Dollabella, to such streights as to kill himself. Both armies soon after joining at Smyrna, the fight of such a formidable force began to revive the declining spirits of the party, and to reunite the two generals still more closely, between whom there had been, some time before, a slight misunderstanding. In short, having quitted Italy like distressed exiles, without having one single soldier or one town that owned their command, they now found themselves at the head of a flourishing army, furnished with all the necessaries for carrying to the war, and in a condition to support a contest where the empire of the world depended on the event. This success in raising levies was entirely owing to the justice, moderation, and great humanit• of Brutus who, in every instance, seemed stu •••s of the happiness of his country, and not his 〈◊〉.

It was in this flourishing state of their affairs, that 〈◊〉 •tors had formed a resolution of going 〈◊〉 Cleopatra, who had made great preparations 〈◊〉 their opponents. However, they were divert •• from this purpose by an information that Augustus 〈◊〉 Antony were now upon their march, with forty 〈◊〉 to oppose them. Brutus, therefore, moved 〈◊〉 their army pass over into Greece and Mace ••ni•, and there meet the enemy; but Callius so far 〈◊〉, is to have the Rhodians and Lycians first re•••ed, who had refused their usual contributions. 〈◊〉 exped••ion was immediately put in execution, 〈◊〉 extraor••nary contributions were raised by that •eans, the Rhodians having scarce any thing lest them but their lives. The Lycians suffered still more severely; for, having shut themselves up in the 〈◊〉 or Nalithius, they defended the place against •rutus with such fury, that neither his arts nor entreaties could prevail upon them to surrender. At length, the town being set on fire, by their attempting to burn the works ot the Romans, Brutus, instead of laying hold on this opportunity to storm the place, made every effort to preserve it, entreating his soldiers to try all means of extinguishing the fire• but the desperate phrenzy of the citizens was not to be mollified. Far from thinking themselves obliged to their generous enemy, for the efforts which were made to save them, they resolved to perish in the flames. Wherefore, instead of extinguishing, they did all in their power to augment the fire, by throwing in wood, dry reeds, and all kinds of fuel. Nothing could exceed the distress of Brutus, upon seeing the townsmen thus resolutely bent on destroying themselves▪ he rode about the fortifications, stretching out his hands to the Nanthians, and conjuring then to have pity on themselves and their city; but, insensi•le to his ex•ostulations, they rushed into the flames with desperate obstinacy, and the whole soon became an heap of undistinguishable ruin. At this horrid spectacle Brutus melted into tears, offering a reward to every soldier who should bring him a Lycian alive The number of those whom it was possible to save from their own fury amounted to no more than one hundred and fifty.

Brutus and Callius met once more at Sardis, where, after the usual ceremonies were past between them, they resolved to have private conference together. They shut themselves up, therefore, in the first convenient house, with express orders to their servants to give no admission Brutus began, by reprimanding Cassius for having disposed of offices, which should ever be the reward of merit, and for having overtaxed the tributary states. Cassius retorted the imputation of avarice with the more bitterness, as he knew the chan•e to be groundless. The debate grew warm, till, from loud speaking, they burst into fears. Their friends, who were standing at the door, overheard the increasing vehemence of their voices, and began to dread for the consequences, till Favonius, who valued himself upon a cynical boldness, t••t knew no restraint, entering the room with a j•st, calmed their mutual animosity. Cassius was ready enough to forego his anger, being a man of great abilities, but of uneven disposition; not averse to pleasure in private company; and, upon the wh•le, of morals not quite sincere. But the conduct of Brutus was always perfectly steady. An even gentl•ness, a noble elevation of sentiments, a strength of mind over which neither vice nor pleasure could have any influence, an inflexible firmness in the def••ce of justice, composed the character of that great m•n. After their conference, night coming on, Cassius invited Brutus and his friends to an entertainment, where freedom and chearfulness, for a v•lle, ••ok place of political anxiety, and softened the severity of wisdom. Upon retiring home it was that Brutus, as Plutarch tells the story, saw a spectre in his tent. He naturally slept but little, and he had increased this state of watchfulness by habit and great sobriety. He never allowed himself to sleep in the day time, as was then common in Rome; and only gave so much of the night to sleep as could barely renew the natural functions. But especially now, when opprest with such various cares, he only gave a short time after his nightly repast to rest; and, waking about midnight, generally read or studied still morning. It was in the dead of the night, when the whole camp was perfectly quiet, that Brutus was thus employed in reading by a lamp that was just expiring. On a sudden he thought he heard a noise as if some body entered, and lookin• towards the door he perceived it open A gigantic figure, with a frightful aspect, stood before him, and continued to gaze upon him with silent severity. At last Brutus had courage to speak to it: "Art thou a daemon or a mortal man? and why cornest thou to me?" "Brutus," replied the phantom, ‘I am thy evil genius, thou shalt see me again at Philippi.’ "Well, then," answered Brutus, without being discomposed, "we shall meet again." Upon which the phantom vanished, and Brutus calling to his servants, asked if they had seen any thing; to which replying in the negative, he again resumed his studies. But as he was struck with so strange an occurrence, he mentioned it the next day to Cassius, who being an Epicurean, ascribed it to the effect o• an imagination too much exercised by vigilance and anxiety. Brutus appeared satisfied with this solution of his late terrors, and as Antony and Augustus were now advanced into Macedonia, he and his colleague passed over into Thrace, and drew near to the city of Philippi, where the forces of the triumviri were posted to receive them.

All mankind now began to regard the approaching armies with terror and suspense The empire of the world depended upon the fate of a battle; as from victory, on the one side, they had to expect freedom▪ but from the other, a sovereign with absolute command. Brutus was the only man who looked upon these great events before him with calmness and tr•nqu•lity. Indifferent as to success, and satisfied with having done his duty, he said to one of his friends, ‘If I gain the victory, I shall restore liberty to my country; if I lose it, by dying, I shall be delivered from slavery myself; my condition is fixed, and I run no hazards.’ The republican army consisted of fourscore thousand foot, and twenty thousand horse. The army of the triumviri amounted to an hundred thousand foot, and thirteen thousand horse. Thus complete, on both sides, they met and encamped near each other upon the plains of Philippi, a city upon the confines of Thrace. This city was situated upon a mountain, towards the west of which a plain stretched itself, by a gentle declivity, almost fifteen leagues to the banks of the river Saymon. In this p•ain, about two miles from the town, were two little hills at about a mile distance from each other, defended on one side by mountains, on the other by a marsh which communicated with the sea. It was upon these two hills that Brutus and C•ssius fixed their camys: Brutus on the hill towards the north; Cassius on that towards the south: and in the intermediate space which separated them, they cast up lines and a parapet from one hill to the other. That they kept a firm communication between the two camps, which mutually defended each other. In this commodious situation they could act as they thought proper, and give battle only when it was thought to their advantage to engage. Behind them was the sea, which furnished them with all kinds of provisions; and at twelve miles distance, the island of Thasos, which served them for a general magazine. The triumviri, on the other hand, were encamped on the plain below, and were obliged to bring their provisions from fifteen leagues distance; so that their scheme and interest was to bring on a battle as soon as they could. This they offered several times, drawing out their men from their camp, and provoking the enemy to engage. On the contrary, these contented themselves with drawing up their troops at the head of their camps, but without descending to the plain. This resolution of postponing the battle, was all that the republican army had for it; and Cassius, who was aware of his advantage, resolved to harrass the enemy rather than engage them. But Brutus began to suspect the fidelity of s•me of his officers, so that he used all his instance to persuade Cassius to change his resolution. "I am impatient" said he, ‘to put an end to the 〈◊〉 of mankind, and in that I have hopes of succeeding whether I fall or conquer.’ His wishes were soon gratified; for Antony's soldiers having, with great labour, made a road through the marsh which lay to the left of Cassius's camp, by that means opened a communication with the island of Thasos, which lay behind him. Both armies, in attempting to possess themselves of this road, resolved, at length, to come to a general engagement. This, however, 〈◊〉 contrary to the advice of Cassius, who declared, th•t •e was ••ced, as Pompey had formerly been, to 〈…〉 of Rome to the hazard of a battle. 〈…〉 morning the two generals gave the signal 〈◊〉 en•aging, and conferred together a little while before the battle began. Cassius desired to kn•w n•w Brutus intended to act in case they were unsuccessful: to which the other replied, ‘That he had formerly, in his writings, condemned the death of Ca•o; and maintained, that avoiding calamities by suicide, was an insolent attempt against Heaven that sent them; but he had now altered his o•inions and, having given up his life to his country, he thought he had a right to his own way of ending it; wherefore he was resolved to change a miserable being here, for a better hereafter if fortune proved against him.’ Well said, "my friend," cried Cassius embracing him, ‘now we may venture to face the enemy; for either we shall conquerors ourselves, or we shall have no cause to fear those that are so.’ Augustus being sick, the forces of the triumviri were commanded ••one by Antony, who began the engagement by a vigorous attack upon the lines of Cassius. Brutus, on the other side, made a dreadful erruption on the prior of Augustus; and drove forward with so much intrepidity, that he broke them upon the very first 〈◊〉. Upon this he penetrated as far as the camp, and cutting in pieces those who were left for its defence, his troops immediately began to plunder: but in the mean time the lines of Cassius were forced, and his cavalry put to flight There was no effort that this unfortunate general did not use to make his infantry stand, stopping those that fled, and seizing himself the colours to rally them But his own valour alone was not sufficient to inspire his timorous army; wherefore, despairing of success, he caused himself to be slain by one of his freedmen. Brutus was soon informed of the defeat of Cassius, and soon after of his death as he drew near the camp. He seemed scarce able to restrain the excess of his grief for a man whom he called the last of the Romans.

But his first care, when he became the sole general, was to assemble the disperst troops of Cassius, and animate them with fresh hopes of victory. As they had lost all they possest by the plundering of their camp, he promised them two thousand denarii each man to make up their losses. This once more inspired them with new ardour; they admired the liberality of their general, and with loud shouts proclaimed his former intrepidity. Still, however, he had not confidence sufficient to face the adversary, who off••ed him battle the ensuing day. His aim was to starve his enemies, who were in extreme war 〈◊〉 provisions, their fleet having been lately defe•••d. But his single opinion was over-ruled by 〈…〉 his army, who now grew every day more confident of their strength, and more arrogant to their n•w general. He was, therefore, at last, after inspi•• of twenty days, obliged to comply with their sollicitations to try the fate of the battle. Both armies ••ing •rawn out, they remained a long while opposite to each other without offering to engage. But it is 〈◊〉 that he himself had lost much of his natur•d ardour by having seen a spectre the night preceding: h•wever, he encouraged his men us much as possible, and gave the signal for another battle. He had, as usual, the advantage where he commanded in person; bearing down the enemy at the head of h•s infantry, and, supported by his cavalry, making a very great slaughter. But the troops which had belonged to Cassius communicating their terror to the rest of the forces, at last, the whole army gave way. Brutus, surrounded by the most valiant of his officers, fought for a long time with amazing valour. The son of Cato fell fighting by his side, as also the brother of Cassius; so that, at last, he was obliged to yield to necessity, and fled. In the mean time the two triumviri, now assured of victory, expresly ordered by no means to suffer the general to escape, for fear he should renew the war. Thus the whole body of the enemy seemed chiefly intent on Brutus alone, and his capture seemed inevitable. In this deplorable exigence, Lucilius, his friend, was resolved, by his own death, to effect his general's delivery. Upon perceiving a body of Thracian horse closely pursuing Brutus, and just upon the point of taking him, he boldly threw himself in their way, telling them that he was Brutus. The Thracians, overjoyed with so great a prize, immediately dispatched some of their companions with the news of their success, to the army. Upon which, the ardour of the pursuit now abating, Antony marched out to meet his prisoner, and to hasten his death, or insult his misfortunes. He was followed by a great number of officers and soldiers, some silently deploring the fate of so virtuous a man; others reproaching that mean desire of life for which he consented to undergo captivity. Antony now seeing the Thracians approach, began to prepare himself for the interview; but the faithful Lucilius, advancing with a chearful air, "It is not Brutus," said he, ‘that is taken; fortune has not yet had the power of committing so great an outrage upon virtue. As for my life it is well spent in preserving his honour; take it, for I have deceived you.’ Antony, struck with so much fidelity, pardoned him upon the spot; and from that time forward loaded him with benefits, and honoured him with his friendship.

In the mean time, Brutus, with a small number of friends, passed over a rivulet, and, night coming on, set down under a rock which concealed him from the pursuit of the enemy. After taking breath for a little time, and casting his eyes up to Heaven, he repeated a line from Euripides, containing a wish to the Gods, ‘that guilt should not pass in this life without punishment.’ To this he added another from the same poet: ‘O Virtue! thou empty name, I have worshipped thee as a real good, but thou art only the slave of Fortune.’ He then called to mind, with great tenderness, those whom he had •een perish in battle, and sent out one Statilius to give him some information of those that remained; but he never returned, being killed by a party of the enemy's horse. Brutus, judging very rightly of his site, now resolved to die likewise, and spoke to ••ose who stood round him to lend him their last sad 〈◊〉. None of them, however, would render him to melancholy a service. He, therefore, called ••ne of his •laves to perform what he so ardently desired; but Strato, his tutor, offered himself, crying 〈◊〉, ‘that it should never be said that Brutus, in in 〈◊〉 last extremity, stood in need of a slave for want of a friend.’ Thus saying, and averting his head, represented the sword's point to Brutus, who threw himself upon it, and immediately expired

From the moment of Brutus's death, the triumviri began to act as sovereigns, and to divide the Roman dominions between them, as theirs by right of conquest. However, though there were apparently ••ree who participated all power, yet, in fact, only two were actually possest of it, since Lopidus was at first admitted merely to curb the mutual jealousy of Antony and Augustus; and was possest neither of interest in the army, nor authority among the people. Their fir•t care was to punish those whom they had formerly marked for vengeance. Hortensius, Drusus, and Quintilius Varus, all men of the first rank in the commonwealth, either killed themselves or were slain. A senator and his son were ordered to cast lots for their lives, but both refused it; the father voluntarily gave himself up to the executioner, and the son stabbed himself before his face. Another begged to have the rites of burial after his death; to which Augustus replied, ‘that he should find a grave in the vultures that devoured him.’ But chiefly the people lamented to see the head of Brutus sent to Rome to be thrown at the foot of Caesar's statue. His ashes, however, were sent to his wife Porcia, Cato's daughter, who following the example of her husband and father, killed herself by swallowing burning coals. It is observed, that of all those who had a hand in the death of Caesar, not one died a natural death.

The power of the triumviri being thus established upon the ruin of the commonwealth, they now began to think of enjoying that homage to which they had aspired. Antony went into Greece to receive the flattery of that refined people, and spent some time at Athens, conversing among the philosophers, and assisting at their disputes in person. From thence he past over into Asia, where all the monarchs of the East who acknowledged the Roman power, came to pay him their obedience; while the fairest princesses strove to gain his favour by the greatness of their presents, or the allurements of their beauty. In this manner he proceeded from kingdom to kingdom, attended by a crowd of sovereigns, exacting contributions, distributing favours, and giving away crowns with ca•ricious insolence. He presented the kingdom of Canpadocia to Sysenes, in prejudice of Ariarathes, only because he found pleasure in the beauty of G•aphyra, the mother of the former. He settled Herod in the kingdom of Judea, and supported him against every opposer. But among all the sovereigns of the East who shared his favours, none had so large a part as Cleopatra, the celebrated queen of Egypt.

It happened that Serapion, her governor in the island of Cyprus, had formerly furnished some succours to the conspirators; and it was thought proper that he should answer for his conduct on that occasion. Accordingly, having received orders from Antony to come and clear herself of this imputation of infidelity, she readily complied, equally conscious of the goodness of her cause, and the power of her beauty. She was now in her twenty-seventh year, and consequently had improved those allurements by art, which, in earlier age, are seldom attended to Her address and wit were still further heightened, and, though there were some women in Rome that were her equals in beauty, none could rival her in the charms of seducing conversation. Antony was now in Tarsus, a city of Cilicia, when Cleopatra resolved to attend his court in person. She sailed to meet him down the river Cydnus, at the mouth of which the city stood, with the most sumptuous pageantry. Her galley was covered with gold, the sails of purple, large, and floating in the wind. The oars, of silver, kept time to the sound of flutes and cymbals. She herself lay reclined on a couch spangled with stars of gold, and with such ornaments as poets and painters had usually ascribed to Venus. On each side were boys like Cupids, who famed her by turns; while the most beautiful nymphs drest like Noriads and Graces, were placed at proper distances around her. Upon the banks of the river were kept burning the most exquisite perfumes, while an infinite number of people gazed upon the si•ht with a mixture of delight and admiration. Antony was captivated with her beauty, and, leaving all his •usiness to satisfy his passion, shortly after followed her into Egypt. There he continued in all that ease and softness to which his vicious heart was prone, and which that luxurious people were able to supply.

While he remained thus idle in Egypt, Augustus, who took upon him to lead back the veteran troops and settle them in Italy, was assiduously employed in providing for their subsistence. He had promised them lands at home, as a recompence for their past services; but they could not receive their new grants without turning out the former inhabitants. In consequence of this, multitudes or women, with children in their arms, whose tender years and innocence excited universal compassion, daily filled the temples and the streets with their distresses Numbers of husbandmen and shepherds came to deprecate the conqueror's intention, or to obtain an habitation in some other part of the world. Among this number was Virgil, the poet, to whom mankind owe more obligations, than to a thousand conquerors, who, in an humble manner, begged permission to retain his patrimonial farm: Virgil obtained his request, but the rest of his countrymen, of Mantua and Cremona were turned out without mercy.

Italy and Rome now felt the most extreme miseries; the insolent soldiers plundered at will; while Sextus Pompey, being master of the sea, cut off all foreign communication, and prevented the people's receiving their usual supplies of corn. To these mischiefs were added the commencement of another civil war. Pulvia, the wife of Antony, who had been left behind him at Rome, had felt for some time a•l the rage of jealousy, and resolved to try every method of bringing back her husband from the arms of Cleopatra. She considered a breach with Augustus, as the only probable means of rouzing him from his lethargy; and, accordingly, with the assistance of Lucius, her brother in-law, who was then consul, and entirely devoted to her interest, she began to sow the seeds of dissension. The pretext was, that Antony should have a share in the distribution of lands as well as Augustus. This produced negociations between them, and Augustus offered to make the veterans themselves umpires in the dispute. Lucius refused to acquiesce; and, being at the head of more than six legions, mostly composed of such as were dispossest, he resolved to compel Augustus to accept of whatever terms he should offer. Thus a new war was excited between Augustus and Antony; on, at least, the generals of the latter assumed the sanction of his name. Augustus, however, was victorious: Lucius was hemmed in between two armies, and const•ained to retreat to Perusia, a city of Etruria, where he was closely besieged by the oppo•ite party. He made many desperate sallies, and Fulvia did all in her power to relieve him, but without success. He was at last, therefore, reduced to such extremity, by famine, that he came out in person, and delivered himself up to the mercy of the conqueror. Augustus received him very honouraly, and generously pardoned him and all his followers.

Antony having heard of his brother's overthrow, and his wife's being compelled to leave Italy, was resolved to oppose Augustus without delay. He accordingly sailed, at the head of a considerable fleet, from Alexandria to Tyre; and from thence to Cypius and Rhodes, and had an interview with Fulvia, 〈◊〉 were, at Athens He much blamed her for occasioning the late disorders; testified the utmost contempt for her person; and leaving her upon her ce•••r-bed, at •ycion, hastened into Italy to sight Augustus. They both met at Brandusium; and it was now thought that the flames of a civil-war were going to blaze out once more. The forces of Antony were numerous, but mostly new raised; however, he was assisted by Sextus Pompeius, who, in these oppositions of interest, was daily coming into power. Augustus was at the head of those veterans; who had always been irresistible, but who seemed no way disposed to fight against Antony, their former general. A negociation was, therefore, proposed; and, by the activity of Cocceius a friend to both, a reconciliation was effected. All offences and affronts were mutually forgiven; and, to cement the union, a marriage was concluded between Antony and Octavia, the sister of Augustus. A new division of the Roman empire was made between them; Augustus was to have the command of the West; Antony of the East; while Lepidus was obliged to content himself with the provinces in Africa. As for Sextus Pompeius, he was permitted to retain all the islands he had already possest, together with Peloponnesus: he was also granted the privilege of demanding the consulship in his absence, and of discharging that office by any of his friends. It was likewi•e stipulated to leave the sea open, and pay the people what corn was due out of Sicily. Thus a gene•al peace was concluded, to the great satisfaction of the people, who now expected a cessation from all their calamities.

This calm seemed to continue for sometime; Antony led his forces against the Parthians, over whom his lientenant Ventidius had gained some advantages Augustus drew the greatest part of his army into Gaul, where there were some disturbances; and Pompey went to secure his newly ceded province to his interest. It was on this quarter that fresh motives were given for renewing the war. Antony, who was obliged, by treaty, to quit Peloponnesus, refused to evacuate it till Pompey had satisfied him for such debts as were due to him from the inhabitants. This Pompey would by no means comply with, but immediately fitted out a new fleet, and renewed his former enterprizes, by cutting off such corn and provisions as were consigned to Italy. Thus the grievances of the poor were again renewed; and the people began to complains, that instead of three tyrants, they were now oppressed by four.

In this exigence Augustus, who had long meditated the best means of diminishing the number, re •ived to begin by getting rid of Pompey, who kept •e state in continual alarms. He was master of two fleets, one, which he had caused to be built at Ravenna: and another which Menodorus, who revolted from Pompey, brought to his aid. His first attempt was to invade Sicily; but being overpowered in his passage by Pompey, and afterwards shattered in a storm, he was obliged to defer his designs to the ensuing year. During this interval he was reinforced by a noble fleet of one hundred and twenty ships, given him by Antony, with which he resolved once more to invade Sicily on three several quarters But fortune seemed still determined to oppose him. He was a second time disabled and shattered by a storm; which so raised the vanity of Pompey, that he began to style himself the son of Neptune. However, Augustus was not to be intimidated by any disgraces; for, having shortly resitted his navy, and recruited his forces, he gave the command of both to Agrippa, his faithful friend and associate in war. Agrippa proved himself worthy of the trust reposed in him; he began his operations by a victory over Pompey; and, though he was shortly after worsted himself, he soon after gave his adversary a complete and final overthrow Thus undone, Pompey resolved to fly to Antony, from whom he expected refuge, as he had formerly obliged that triumvir• by giving protection to his mother. However, a gleam of hope offering, he tried, once more, at the head of a small body of men, to make himself independent, and even surprised Anthony's lieutenants, who had been sent to accept of his submissions. Nevertheless, he was at last abandoned by his soldiers, and delivered up to Titus. Antony's lieutenant, who shortly after caused him to be slain.

The death of this general removed one very powerful obstacle to the ambition of Augustus, and he resolved to take the easiest opportunity to get rid of the 〈◊〉 of his associates.

All 〈…〉 an•ther this was furnished by Lepidus, that served as a sufficient pretext to Augustus for depriving him of his share in the triumvirate. Being at the head of twenty-two legions, with a strong body of cavalry, he idly supposed that his present power was more than an equivalent to the popularity of Augustus. He, therefore, resolved upon adding Sicily, where he then was, to his province, pretending a right, as having first invaded it. Augustus sent to expostulate upon these proceedings; But Lepidus fiercely re•lied, ‘That he was determined to have his share in the administration, and would no longer submit to let one alone possess all the authority.’ Augustus was previously informed of the disposition of Lepidus's soldiers; for he had, by his secret intrigues and largesses, entirely attached them to himself. Wherefore, without further de•ay, he, with great boldness, went alone to the camp of Lepidus, and with no other assistance than his private bounties, and the authority he had guined by his former victories, he deposed his rival. Lepidus was deprived of all his former authority, and banished to Circa•um, where he continued the rest of his life, despised by his friends, and to all a melancholy object or blasted ambition.

Th••e remained now but one obstacle to his ambition, which was Antony, whom he resolved to rem••••, and for that purpose began to render his character as contemptible as he possibly could at Rome. In fact, Anthony's conduct did not a little contribute to promote the endeavours of his ambitious partner. He had marched against the Parthians with a prodigious army, but was forced to return with the 〈◊〉 the fourth part of his forces, and all his bag •••. However, Antony, seemed quite regardless 〈◊〉 •tempt: alive only to pleasure, and totally dis • 〈◊〉 the business of the state, he spent whole 〈◊〉 nights in the company of Cleopatra, who 〈◊〉 every art to encrease his passion, and vary 〈◊〉 •n•ertainments. Few women have been so much 〈◊〉 for the art of giving novelty to pleasure, 〈◊〉 •••ing trifles important: still ingenious in fil•∣•• up the languid pauses of sensual delight with 〈◊〉 new stroke of refinement, she was at one time a 〈◊〉; then a Bacchanal, and sometimes an hunte•s. She invented a society called, The Inimitable; 〈◊〉 of the court who made the most sumptuous on •••inments, carried away the prize. Not contented with sharing, in her company, all the delights which Egypt could afford, Antony was resolved to enlarge his sphere of luxury, by granting her many 〈◊〉 kingdoms which belonged to the Roman e•pl•e. He gave her all Phaenicia, Celo-Syria, and Cyprus, with a great part of Cilicia, Arabia, and judea; aifts which he had no right to bestow, but ••ich he pretended to grant in imitation of Her ••••s. This complication of vice and folly at last totally exasperated the Romans, and Augustus, willing to take the advantage of their resentment, took 〈◊〉 exaggerate all his defects. At length, when he found the people sufficiently irritated against him, he resolved to send Octavia, who was then at Rome, 〈◊〉 Antony, as if with a view of reclaiming her husband; but, in fact, to furnish a sufficient pretext of ca•••ing war against him, as he knew she would be di•mis•ed with contempt.

Antony was now at the city of Leucoplis, revelling with his insiduous paramour, when he heard that Octavia was at Athens, upon her journey to visit him. This was very unwelcome news as well to him as to Cleopatra; who, scaring the charms of her rival, endeavoured to convince Antony of the strength of her passion by her s•ghs, languishing looks, and well-feigned melancholy. He frequently caught her in tears, which she seemed as if willing to hide; and often entreated her to tell him the cause, which she seemed willing to suppress. These artifices, together with the ceaseless flattery, and importunity of her creatures, prevailed so much upon Antony's weakness, that he commanded Octavia to return home, without seeing her; and still more to exasperate the people of Rome, he resolved to repudiate her, and take Cleopatra as his wife. He accordingly assembled the people of Alexandria in the public theatre, where was raised an alcove of silver, under which were placed two thrones of gold, one for himself and the other for Cleopatra. There he seated himself drest like Bacchus, while Cleopatra sat beside him cloathed in the ornaments and attributes of Isis, the principal deity of the Egyptians. On that occasion he declared her queen of all the countries which he had already bestowed upon her; while he associated Caesario, her son by Caesar, as her partner in the government To the two children which he had by her himself, he gave the title of king of kings, with very extensive domanions: and, to crown his absurdities, he next sent a minute account of his proceedings to the two consuls at Rome.

In the mean time Augustus had now a sufficient pretext for declaring war, and informed the senate of his intentions. However, he deferred the execution of his design for a while, being then employed in quelling an insurrection of the Illyrians. The following year was chiefly taken up in preparations against Antony, who, perceiving his design, remonstrated to the senate, that he had many causes of complaint against his colleague, who had seized upon Sicily without affording him a share; alledging that he had also dispossest Lepidus, and kept to himself the province he had commanded; and that 〈◊〉 and divided all Italy among his own soldiers, leaving nothing to recompence those in Asia. To this complaint Augustus was contented to make a sarcastic answer, implying, that it was absurd to complain of his distribution of a few tristing districts in Italy, when, Antony having conquered Parthia, he might now reward his soldiers with cities and provinces. This sarcasm provoked him to send his army, without intermission, into Europe, to meet Augustus, while he and Cleopatra followed to Samos, in order to prepare for carrying on the war with vigour. When arrived there it was ridiculous enough to behold the odd mixture of preparations for pleasure and for war. On one side, all the kings and princes from Egyp, to the Euxine sea, had orders to send him supplies both of men, provisions, and arms; on the other side, all the comedians, dancers, buffoons, and musicians ot Greece, were ordered to attend him.

This delay at Samos, and afterwards at Athens, where he carried Cleopatra, to receive new honours, was extremely favourable to the arms of Augustus, who was, at first, scarcely in a dispo•ition to oppose him, had he gone into Italy; but he soon found 〈◊〉 to put himself in a condition for ••rying on the 〈◊〉; and, shortly after, declared it against him in 〈◊〉. At length both sides found themselves in re••iness to begin the war, and their armies were answerable to the empire they contended for. The on• was followed by all the forces of the East; the other drew a•l the strength of the West to support his pretensions. Antony's force composed a body of an hundred thousand foot, and twelve thousand horse; while his fleet amounted to five hundred ships of war. The army of Augustus mustered but eighty thousand foot, but equalled his adversary's in the number of cavalry: his fleet was but half as numerous as Antony's; however, his ships were better built, and manned with better soldiers.

The great decisive engagement, which was a naval one, was fought near Actium, a city of Epirus, at the entrance of the gulph of Ambracia. Antony ranged his ships before the mouth of the gulph; and Augustus drew up his fleet in opposition. Neither general assumed any sixt station to command in, but went about from ship to ship, wherever his presence was necessary. In the mean time, the two land armies, on opposite sides of the gulph, were drawn up, only as spectators of the engagement; and encouraged the fleets, by their shouts, to engage. The battle began, on both sides, with great ardour; and after a manner not practised upon former occasions. The prows of their vessels were armed with brazen points; and with these they drove furiously against each other. They fought for some time with great fury, nor was there any advantage on either side, except a small appearance of disorder in the centre of Antony's fleet. But all of a sudden, Cleopatra determined the fortune of the day. She was seen s•ying from the engagement, attended by sixty sail; struck, perhaps, with the terrors natural to her sex: but what encreased the general amazement, was, to behold Antony himself following soon after, leaving his fleet at the mercy of the conquerors; and the army at land soon after followed their example.

When Cleopatra fled, Antony pursued her in a five-oared galley; and, coming along side of her ship, entered it without seeing, or being seen by her. She was in the stern, and he went to the prow, where he remained for some time silent, holding his head between his hands. In this manner he continued three whole days, during which, either through indignation or shame, he neither saw nor spoke to Cleopatra. At last, when they were arrived at the promontory of Tenarus, the queen's female attendants reconciled them, and every thing went on as before. Still, however, he had the consolation to suppose his army continued faithful to him; and accordingly dispatched orders to his lieutenant Canidius, to conduct it into Asia. However, he was soon undeceived when he arrived in Africa, where he was informed of their submission to his rival. This account so transported him with rage, that he was hardly prevented from killing himself; but at length, at the entreaty of his friends, he returned to Alexandria. Cleopatra, however, seemed to retain that fortitude in her misfortunes, which had utterly abandoned her admirer. Having amassed considerable riches, by means of confiscations, and other acts of violence, she formed a very singular and unheard of project: this was to convey her whole fleet over the isthmus of Suez into the Red Sea, and thereby save herself in another region, beyond the reach of Rome, with all her treasures. Some of ••r vessels were actually transported thither, pursuant to her orders; but the Arabians having burnt them, and Antony dissuading her from the design, she 〈◊〉 it for the more improbable scheme of defending Egypt against the conqueror. She omitted nothing in her power to put this advice in practice, and made all kinds of preparations for war; at least 〈◊〉 thereby to obtain better terms from Augustus. In fact, she had always loved Antony's fortunes rather than his person; and if she could have fallen 〈◊〉 any method of saving herself, though even at its expence, there is no doubt but she would have embraced it with gladness. She even still had some ••pes from the power of her charms, though she was arrived almost at the age of forty; and was desirous of trying upon Augustus, those arts which had been so successful with the greatest men of Rome▪ Thus, in three embassies, which were sent one after another, from Antony to Augustus in Asia, the queen had always her secret agents, charged with particular proposals in her name. Antony desired no more than that his life might be spared, and to have the liberty of passing the remainder of his days in obscurity. To those proposals Augustus made no reply. Cleopatra sent him also public proposals in favour of her children; but at the same time privately resigned him her crown, with all the ensigns of royalty. To the queen's public proposal, no answer was given: to her private offer he replied, by giving her assurances of his favour, in case she sent away Antony, or put him to death. These negociations were not so private but they came to the knowledge of Antony, whose jealousy and rage every occurrence now contributed to heighten. He built a small solitary house upon a mole in the sea, and there shut himself up, a prey to all those passions that are the tormentors of unsuccessful tyranny. There he past his time, shunning all commerce with mankind, and professing to imitate Timon the man-hater. However, his furious jealousy drove him even from this retreat into society; for hearing that Cleopatra had many sec••• conferences with one Thyrsus, an emissary from Augustus, he seized upon him, and having ordered him to be cruelly scourged, he sent him back to his patron. At the same time he sent letters by him, importing, that he had chastized Thyrsus for insulting a man in misfortunes; but withal he gave Augustus permission to avenge himself, by scourging Hiparchus, Antony's freedman, in the same manner. The revenge, in this case, would have been highly pleasing to Antony, as Hiparchus h•• left him, to join the fortunes of his more successful rival.

Meanwhile, the operations of the war were carried vigorously forward, and Egypt soon after became again the theatre of the contending armies of Rome. Gallus, the lieutenant of Augustus, took Paretonium, which opened the whole country to his incursions. On the other side, Antony, who had still considerable forces by sea and land, wanted to take that important place from the enemy. He, therefore, marched towards it, flattering himself, that, as soon as he should shew himself to the legions which he had once commanded, the affection for their ancient general would revive 〈…〉 •∣ed, therefore, and exhorted them to rem••• 〈◊〉 former vows of fidelity. Gallus, how 〈◊〉 •∣dered all the trumpets to sound, in order t• 〈◊〉 Antony from being heard, so that he was ob••••• •o retire.

Augustus himself was in the mean time ad•••••∣ing with another army before Pelusium, which 〈◊〉 its strong situation, might have retarded his progre•• for some time. But the governor of the city, either wanting courage to defend it, or previously instructed by Cleopatra to give it up, permitted him to take possession of the place; so that Augustus had now no obstacle in his way to Alexandria, whither •e •a•ched with all expedition. Antony, upon his •••ival, s•llied out to oppose him, fighting with great desperation, and putting the enemy's cavalry to •ight. This slight advantage once more revived his declining hopes; and, being naturally vain, he reentered Alexandria in triumph Then going, all armed as he was, to the palace, he embraced Cleopatra, and presented her a soldier who had distinguished himself in the late engagement. The queen rewarded him very magnificently; presenting him with an head piece and breast-plate of gold. With these, however, the soldier went off the next night to the other army; prudently resolving to secure his riches, by keeping on the strongest side. Antony could not bear this defection without fresh indignation; he resolved, therefore, to make a bold expiring effort by sea and land, but previously offered to fight his adversary in single combat. Augustus too well knew the inequality of their situations, to comply with this forlorn offer; he only, therefore, coolly replied, that Antony had ways enough to die besides single combat.

The day after, he posted the few troops he had remaining, upon a rising ground near the city; from whence he sent order• to his gallies to engage the enemy. There he waited to be a spectator of the combat; and, at first, he had the stisfaction to see them advance in good order; but his approbation was soon turned into rage, when he saw his ships only saluting those of Augustus, and both fleets uniting together, and failing back into the harbour. At the very same time, his cavalry deserted him. He tired, however, to lead on his infantry, which were easily vanquished; and he himself compelled to return into the town. His anger was now ungovernable; he could not help crying out aloud as he past, that he was betrayed •y Cleopatra, and delivered by her to those who, for her sake alone, were his enemies. In these suspicions he was not deceived, for it was by secret orders from the queen that the sleet had past over to the enemy.

Cleopatra had, for a long while, dreaded the effects of Antony's jealousy; and had, some time befo•e, prepared a method of obviating any sudden sallies it might produce. Near the temple of Isis she had erected a building, which was seemingly designed for a sepulchre. Hither she removed all her treasure, and most valuable effects, covering them over with torches, saggots, and other combustible matter. This sepulchre she designed to answer a double purpose; as well to screen her from the sudden resentments of Antony, as to make Augustus believe that she would burn all her treasures, in case he refused her proper terms of capitulation. Here, therefore, she retired from Antony's present fury; matting the gates, which were fortified with bolts and bars of iron: but in the mean time, gave orders, that a report should be spread of her death, which news soon reached Antony, and recalled all his former love and tenderness. This poor wretch was now a being subject to the gust of every passion, and e•ch of them in extreme. He now lamented her death with the same violence he had but a few mi ••t•• before seemed to desire it. "Wretched man," 〈◊〉 he to himself, ‘what is there now worth living for; since all that could sooth or soften my 〈◊〉 is departed! O Cleopatra,’ continued he, 〈◊〉 got to his chamber, ‘our separation does not 〈◊〉 much afflict me, as the disgrace I suffer, in 〈◊〉 •ring a woman to instruct me in the ways of dying.’ He called one of his freedmen, named 〈◊〉, whom he had engaged by oath to kill him, whenever fortune should drive him to this last res•••ce. Ero• being commanded to perform his pro ••••, this faithful follower drew the sword, as it go •ng to execute his orders; but turning his face, •••ged it into his own bosom, and died at his mas ••••. Antony, for a whi•e hung over his faith ••• servant, and commending his fidelity, took up ••e sword, with which, stabbing himself in the belly, 〈◊〉 backward upon a little couch. Though the war▪ was mortal, yet the blood stopping, he recove••d 〈◊〉 spirits, and earnestly conjured those who 〈◊〉 me into the room, to put an end to his life; 〈…〉 •led, being seized with f•ight and h•r •••. He, •herefore, continued in this manner for ••me time, still crying out and writhing with p•in, 〈…〉 informed by one of the queen's secretaries 〈…〉 mistress was still alive. He then earnestly desired to be carried to the place where she was. They accordingly brought him to the gate of the sepulchre; but Cleopatra, who would not permit it to be opened, appeared at the window, and threw down cords, with which, with some difficulty, they pulled him up. They gently laid him on a couch▪ where she gave way to her sorrow, tearing her cloaths, beating her breast, and kissing the wound of which he was dying. Antony entreated her to moderate the transports of her grief, asked for wine, and exhorting her not to lament for his misfortunes, but to congratulate him upon his former felicity, to consider him as one who had lived the most powerful of men, and at last died by the hand of a Roman. Just as he had done speaking he expired, and Proculus made his appearance by command of Augustus, who had been informed of Antony's desperate conduct. He was sent to try all means of getting Cleopatra into his power. Augustus having a double motive for his solicitude on this occasion: one, to prevent her destroying the treasures she had taken with her into the tomb; the other, to preserve her person, as an ornament to grace his triumph. Cleopatra, however, was upon her guard, and would not confer with Proculus, except through the gate, which was very well secured In the mean time, Gallus, one of Augustus's soldiers, entered wi•h two more by the window at which Antony had been drawn up; upon which, Cleopatra, perceiving what happened, drew a poniard, and attempted to stab herself, but was prevented

Augustus was extremely pleased at finding her in his power: he sent Epaphroditus to bring her to his palace, and to watch her with the utmost circumspection. He was likewise ordered to use her, in every respect, with that deference and submission which were due to her rank; and to do every thing in his power to render her captivity agreeable. She was permitted to have the honour of granting Antony the •••s of burial; and furnished with every thing she desired, that was becoming his dignity to receive, or her love to offer. Yet still she languished under her new confinement: her excessive sorrow, her many losses, and the blows she had given her bosom, produced a sever which she seemed willing to en ••e•se. She resolved to abstain from taking any •••••hment, under the pretence of a regimen nece•sary for her disorder; but Augustus, being made appointed with the real motive, by her physician, 〈◊〉 to threaten her, with regard to her children, in 〈◊〉 she persisted.

In the mean time, Augustus made his entry into Alexandria; taking care to mitigate the fears of the 〈…〉, by conversing fami•iarly as he went so•g, with Areus, a philosopher, and a native of the place The citizens, however, trembled at his approach; and when he placed himself upon the tribunal, they prostrated themselves, with their faces to the ground, before him, like criminals who waited the sentence of their execution. Augustus presently ordered them to rise, telling them, that three mot••s induced him to pardon them. His respect for Alexander, who was the founder of their city; his admiration of its beauty; and his friendship for Arcus, their fellow-citizen. Two only of particular note were put to death upon this occasion; Antony's elde•t son Antyllus, and Caesario, the son of Julius Caesar, both betrayed into his hands by their respective tutors, who themselves suffered for their p••i•y shortly after. As for the rest of Cleopatra's children, he treated them with great gentleness, leaving them to the care of those who were intrusted with their education, who had orders to provide them with every thing suitable to their birth. As for h••, when she was •ecovered from her late indi•position, he came to visit her in person; she received him b•ing on a couch, in a careless manner • and upon th• entering the apartment rose up to prostrate her••lf before him. She was drest in nothing but a long robe. Her misfortunes had given an air of severity to her features; her hair was dishev•lled, her voice trembling, her complexion pale, and her eyes red with w•••ping. Yet, still her natural b•••ty secured to 〈◊〉 through the distresses th•t surrounded her; and the graces of her motion, and the alluring s••t•es• of her looks, still bore ter•∣•• •ny to the 〈◊〉 or power of her charms. Augustus raise• her with his usu•l complaisance, and desiri•g her to it, placed himself beside her. Cleopatra had be•n prep••e• for this interview, and made use of every method she coould think of, to propitiate the conqueror. She tried apologies, entreaties, and allurements, to obtain his favour, and soften his resentment. She began by attempting to justify her conduct; but when her art and skill failed against manifest proofs, she turned her defence into supplications. She talked of Caesar's humanity to those in distress; she read some of his letters to her, full of tenderness, and enlarged upon the long intimacy that had past between them. "But of what service," cried she, ‘are now all his benefits to me! Why could I not die with him! Yet he still lives, methinks I see him still before me, he revives in you.’ Augustus was no stranger to this method of address, but he remained firm against all attacks answering always with a cold indifference, which obliged her to give her attempts a different turn▪ She now addrest his avarice, presenting him with a•• inv•ntory of her treasure and jewels. This gave occasion to a very singular scene, which shews that the little dec•rums of breeding were then, by no means so carefully attended to as at present. One of he• stewards having alledged that the inventory was de¦fective, and that she had secreted a part of her effects she fell into a violent passion, started from her couch, and catching him by the hair, gave him several blows on the face. Augustus smiled at her indignation, and lead•ng her to the couch, desired her to be pacified. To this she replied, that she could not bear being insulted in the presence of one whom she so highly esteemed. "And supposing," cried she, ‘that I have secreted a few trifles, am I to blame, when they are reserved not for myself, but for Livia and Octavia, whom I hope to make my intercessors with you?’ This excuse, which intimated a desire of living, was not disagreeable to Augustus, who politely assured her, that she was at liberty to keep whatever she had reserved, and that in every thing she should be indulged to the height of her expectations. He then took leave, and departed; imagining he had reconciled her to life, and to the indignity of being shewn in the intended triumph, which he was preparing for his return to Rome: but in this he was deceived. Cleopatra, all this time, had kept a correspondence with Dolabella, a young Roman of high birth, in the camp of Augustus; who, perhaps from compassion, or stronger motives, was interested in her misfortunes: by him she was secretly informed, that Augustus determined to send her off in three days, together with her children, to Rome, to grace his triumphant entry. She now, therefore, determined upon dying; she now threw herself upon Antony's coffin, bewailed her captivity, and renewed her protestations not to survive him. Having bathed, and ordered a sumptuous banquet, •e •tti•ed herself in the most splendid manner. She then feasted, as usual; and soon after ordered all but •er two at endants, Charmion and Iras, to leave the •oom. Then, having previously ordered an asp to •e secretly conveyed to her in a basket of fruit, she •ent a letter to Augustus, informing him of her fatal purpose, and desiring to be buried in the same tomb with Antony. Augustus, upon receiving the letter, instantly dispatched messengers to stop her intentions, but they arrived too late. Upon entering the chamber, they beheld Cleopatra lying dead upon a gilded couch, arrayed in her royal robes. Near her, Iras, one of her faithful attendants, was stretched lifeless at the feet of her mistress; and Charmion herself, almost expiring, was settling the diadem upon Cleopatra's head. "Alas!" cried one of the messengers, "was this well done, Charmion?" "Yes," replied she, ‘it is well done; such a death becomes a glorious queen, descended from a race of noble ancestors.’ On pronouncing these words, she fell down, and died with her much loved mistress.

CHAP. XXII. From the beginning of the reign of Augustus, to the death of Domitian, the last of the twelve Caesars.

BY the death of Antony, Augustus was now be¦come master of the Roman Empire. He soon afte• returned to Rome in triumph; where, by sumptu¦ous feasts, and magnificent shows, he began to ob•i¦terate the impressions of his former cruelty; and from thence forward, resolved to secure by his cle¦mency, a throne, the foundations of which were laid in blood. He was now at the head of the most extensive empire that mankind had ever concurred i• obeying The former spirit of the Romans, and those characteristic marks that distinguished them from others, were totally lost. The city was now inhabited by a concourse from all the countries o• the world; and being consequently divested of a•¦just patriotic principles, perhaps a monarchy was th• best form of government that could be found to unite its members. However, it is very remarkable, that during these long contentions among themselves, and these horrid devastations by civil war, the state was daily growing more formidable and powerful, and completed the destruction of all the kings who presumed to oppose it.

His first care was to assure himself of the friends of Antony; to which end he publicly reported that he had burnt all Antony's letters and papers, without ••••ing, convinced that, while any thought themselves suspected, they would be fearful of even offering him their friendship

As he had gained the kingdom by his army, so 〈◊〉 he resolved to govern it by the senate. This 〈◊〉, though greatly fallen from their ancient splen •••▪ he knew to be the best ordered, and most capable 〈◊〉 wisdom and justice. To these, therefore, he 〈◊〉 the chief power in the administration of his go ••••ment, while he still kept the people and the army 〈◊〉 to him by donatives, and acts of favour. By these means all the odium of justice fell upon the senate, and all the popularity of pardon was solely his own. Th•s restoring to the senate their ancient splendor, and discountenancing all corruption, he pretended to reserve to himself a very moderate share of authority, which none could refuse him: namely, an a••o•ute power to compel all ranks of the state to do their duty. This, in fact, was reserving absolute dom•nion in his own hands; but, the misguided p••ple began to look upon his moderation with astonishment: they considered themselves as restored to their former freedom, except in the capacity of promo•ing sedition; and the senate supposed their power re-established in all things but their tendency to injustice. It was even said that the Romans, by such a government, lost nothing of the happiness that liberty could produce; and were exempt from all the misfortunes it could occasion. This observation might have some truth under such a monarch as Augustus now appeared to be; but they were taught to change their sentiments under his successors, when they found themselves afflicted with all the punishments that tyranny could inflict or sedition make necessary.

After having established this admirable order, Augustus found himself agitated by different inclinations; and considered a long time whether he should keep the empire or restore the people to their ancient liberty. But he adopted the advice of Maecenas, who desired him to continue in power, and was afterwards swayed by him not only in this instance, but on every other occasion. By the instructions of that minister, he became gentle, affable, and humane▪ By his advice it was that he encouraged men of learning, and gave them much of his time and his friendship. They in their turn relieved his most anxious hours, and circulated his praise through the empire.

Thus having given peace and happiness to the empire, and being convinced of the attachment of all the orders of the state to his person, he resolved upon impressing the people with an idea of his magnanimity also. This was nothing less than making a s••w of resigning his authority; wherefore, having previ•usly instracted his creatures it, the senate how to act, he addressed them in a studied speech, importing the difficulty of governing so extensive an empi•e a task, which, he said, none but the immo•tal 〈◊〉 were equal to. He modestly urged his own inability, though impellled by every motive to undertake it; and then, wi•h a degree of seeming generosity, f•eely gave up all that power, which, as he observed, his arms had gained, and the senate had c••firmed. This power he repeatedly offered to restore, giving them to understand that the true spirit of the Romans was not lost in him. This speech operated upon the senate variously, as they were more or less in the secret; many believed the sincerity of his professions, and, therefore, regarded his conduct as an act of unequalled heroism by any thing that had hitherto appeared in Rome; others, equal•y ignorant of his motives, distrusted his designs. Some there were who, having greatly suffered during the late popular commotions, were fearful of having them renewed; but the majority, who were entirely devoted to his interests, and instructed by his ministers, frequently attempted to interrupt him while speaking, and received his proposal with pretended indignation. These unanimously besought him not to resign the administration; but upon his continuing to decline their request, they in a manner compelled him to comply. However, that his person might be in greater security, they immediately decreed the pay of his guard to be doubled. On the other hand, that he might seem to make some concessions on his side, he permitted the senate to govern the weak internal provinces of the empire, while the most powerful provinces, and those that required the greatest armies for their defence, were taken entirely under his own command. Over these he assumed the government but for ten years, leaving the people still in hopes of regaining their antient freedom; but, at the same time, laying his measures so well, that his government was renewed every ten years to his death

This shew of a resignation only served to confirm him in the empire and the hearts of the people. New honours were heaped upon him. He was then first called Augustus; a name I have hitherto used as t•at by which he is best known in history. A laurel was ordered to be planted at his gates. His house was called the palace, to distinguish it from that of ordinary citizens. He was confirmed in the title of father of his country, and his person declared sacred and inviolable. In short, flattery seemed on the rack to find out new modes of pleasing him, but though he despised the arts of the senate, he permitted their homage, well knowing that, among mankind, titles produce a respect which enforces authority.

Upon entering into his tenth consulship, the senate, by oath, approved of all his acts, and set him wholly above the power of the laws. They some time after offered to swear to not only all the laws he had made, but such as he should make for the future. It was then customary with fathers upon their deathbeds, to command their children to carry oblations to the Capitol, with this inscription, that at the day of their deaths they left Augustus in health. It was determined that no man should be put to death on such days as the emperor entered the city. Upon a dearth of provisions, the people in a body entreated him to accept of the dictatorship; but, though he undertook to be procurator of the provisions, he would by no means accept of the title of dictator, which had been abolished by a law made when Antony was consul.

This accumulation of titles and employments, did not in the least diminish his assiduity in filling the duties of each. Several very wholesome edicts were passed by his command, tending to suppress corruption in the senate, and licentiousness in the people. He ordained that none should exhibit a show of gladiators without orders from the senate, and then no oftener than twice a year; nor with more than a hundred and twenty at a time. This law was extremely necessary at so corrupt a period of the empire, when whole armies of these unfortunate men were brought at once upon the stage, and compelled to fight, often till half of them were slain. It had been usual a•so with the knights, and some women of the first distinction, to exhibit themselves as dancers upon the theatre; he ordered that not only they, but their children and grand-children, should be restrained from such exercises for the future. He fined many that had refused to marry at a certain age; and rewarded such as had many children. He ordered that virgins should not be married till twelve years of age; and permitted any person to kill an adulterer taken in the fact▪ He enacted that the senators should be always held in great reverence; adding to their authority what he had taken from their power. He made a law that no man should have the fre•••m of the city without a previous examination ••to his merit and character. He appointed new 〈◊〉 and limits to the manumission of slaves; and ••s himself very strict in the observance of them. Wi•• reg•rd to players, of whom he was very fond, 〈…〉 examined their 〈◊〉, not allowing the 〈…〉 in their lives, nor indecency in 〈◊〉 actions. Though he encouraged the athletic 〈◊〉, yet he would not permit w•men to be present •t them; holding it unb•••ming the modesty of 〈…〉, to be spectators of these sports, which were p•••••med by naked men. In order to prevent brib•ry in suing for offices, he took considerable sums of 〈◊〉 from the candidates, by way of pledge; and if any indirect practices were proved against them, they were obliged to forfeit •ll. Slaves had been 〈◊◊〉 dissallowed to conf•s• any thing against their own masters; but he abolished the practice, and first 〈◊〉 the slave to another; which altering the prop•••y, his examination became 〈◊〉. These, and many other laws, al• tending to reform vice, or 〈…〉 crimes, gave the manners of the people an ••her complexion; so that the rough character of the Roman was now softened into that of the refined ci••••n.

〈◊〉 his own example a good deal tended to humanize his fellow citizens; for being placed above all equality, he had nothing to fear from condescensions wherefore he was familiar with all, and suffered himself to be reprimanded with the most patient humility Though he was, by the single authority of his station, capable of condemning, or acquitting whomsoever he thought proper, yet he gave the laws their proper course; and even sometimes pleaded for those he desired to protect. Thus Primus, the governe• of Macedonia, having a day assigned him for having made war upon the O•••isii, a neighbouring state, as he said, by the command of Augustus, the latter denied the charge. Upon which the advocate for Primus desired to know, with an insolent air, what brought Augustus into court, or who had sent for him? To this the emperor submissively replied, "the common health;" an answer which greatly pleased the people. Upon another occasion, one of his veteran soldiers entreated his protection in a certain cause; but Augustus taking little notice of his request, desired him to apply to an advocate. "Ah!" replied the soldier, ‘it was not by proxy that I served you at the battle of Actium.’ This reply pleased Augustus so much, that he pleaded his cause in person, and gained it for him. He was extremely affable, and returned the salutations of the meanest persons. One day a person presented him a petition, but with so much awe, that Augustus was displeased with his meanness. "What, friend," cried he, ‘you seem as if you were offering something to an elephane, and not to a man; be bolder.’ One day, as he was sitting on the tribunal, in judgment, Maecenas perceiving by his temper, that he was inclined to be severe, attempted to speak to him; but not being able to get up to the tribunal, for the crowd, he threw a paper into his lap, on which was written, "arise, executioner." Augustus read it, without any displeasure, and immediately rising, pardoned those whom he was disposed to condemn. But what most of all shewed a total alteration in his disposition, was his treatment of Cornelius Cinna, Pompey's grandson. This nobleman had entered into a very dangerous conspiracy against him; but the plot was discovered before it was ripe for execution. Augustus, for some time, debated with himself how to act; but, at last, his clemency prevailed▪ he therefore sent for those who were guilty, and after reprimanding them, dismissed them all. But he was resolved to mortify Cinna by the greatness of 〈◊〉 generosity: for addressing him in particular, ‘I have twice,’ says he, ‘given you your life; fi•st▪ as an enemy; now, as a conspirator; I now give you the consulship: let us, therefore, be friends for the future; and let us only contend in ••ewing, whether my confidence, or your fideli •y, shall be victorious.’ This generosity, which 〈◊〉 emperor very happily timed, had so good an eff••t▪ that, from that instant, all conspiracies ceased against him.

In the practice of such virtues as these, he passed 〈◊〉 reign of above forty years, in which the hap ••nes• of the people seemed to conspire with his own: 〈◊〉 but that there were wars, in the distant provinces 〈◊〉 the empire, during almost the whole reign; but 〈◊〉 we•e rather the quelling of insurrections, than 〈◊〉 of dominions; for he had made it a 〈◊〉 to carry on no operations, in which ambition, 〈◊〉 not the safety of the state, was concerned. In 〈◊〉 he seemed the first Roman, who aimed at gain ••g a character by the arts of peace alone; and who 〈◊〉 the affections of the soldiers, without any 〈…〉 talents of his own. Nevertheless, the Rom•• 〈◊〉, under his lieutenants, were crowned 〈…〉. The Cantabrians, in Spain, who had 〈◊〉, were more than once quelled by Tiberius, 〈…〉 Agrippa, his son-in-law; and Aelius Lama; who followed them to their inaccessible mountains, there blocked them up, and compelled them, by famine, to surrender discretion. The Germans also gave some uneasiness, by their repeated incursions into the territories of Gaul, but were repressed by Lollius. The Rhetians were conquered by Drusus, the brother of Tiberius. The Bessi and Si•la••e, barbarous nations▪ making an irruption into Thrace, were overthrown by 〈◊〉, governor of Pamph•li•, who gained triumphal •onours. The Dacians were r•pressed with m••e t• 〈◊〉 one des••t• the Armenians also were brought into 〈◊〉 subjection by Caius, his grandson. The Getull•• 〈…〉 in Af•i••, to•k up arms; but were subdued 〈◊〉 ••e could, Cai••• Cossus, who thence received th• 〈◊〉 name of Getulious. A dangerous war a•so 〈◊〉 c••sed a against the Dalmatian and Par••••• 〈◊〉 w•o •••∣ing acquired great strength, by ••e •••ntin••nce of a long peace, gathered an army 〈◊〉 tw• hundred thousand foot, and nine thousan• 〈◊〉 horse, threatening Rome itself with destruction 〈◊〉 L•vies were therefore made in Italy with th• ••most expedition• the veteran troops were recalle• •••m all parts; and Augustus went to Arminiu• 〈◊〉 •or the greater convenience of giving his dire•••ons. And, indeed, though personal valour was 〈◊〉 no means his most shining ornament, yet no man could give wiser orders upon every emergency; or go with greater dispatch into all parts of his dominions, than he. This war continued near three years; being principally managed by Tiberius and Germanicus; the latter of whom gained great reputation against these fierce and barbarous multitudes. Upon their reduction, Bato, their leader, being summoned before the tribunal of Tiberius, and being demanded how he could offer to revolt against the power of Rome, the bold •arbarian replied, ‘That the Romans, and not he, were the aggressors; since they had sent, instead of dogs and shepherds, to secure their flocks, only wolves and bears to devour them.’ But the war which was most fatal to the Roman interests, during this reign, was that which was managed by Quintillius Varus. This general, invading the territories of the Germans, was induced to follow the enemy among their forests and marshes, with his army in separate bodies: there he was attacked by night, and entirely cut off, with his whole ••my These were the best and choicest legions of the whole empire, either for valour, discipline, or experience. The affliction, from this defeat, seemed to sink very deep upon the mind of Augustus. He was often heard to cry out, in a tone of anguish, "Quintillius Varus restore me my legions," and some historians pretend to say, that he never after recovered the former serenity of his temper.

But he had some uneasinesses of a domestic nature, in h•s own family, that contributed to distress him: 〈◊〉 had married Livia, the wife of Tiberius Nero, by the consent of her husband, at a time she was six m•nths gone with child, This was an imperious 〈◊〉, and, conscious of being beloved, she cont••••d him ever after at her pleasure. She had two sons by her former husband; Tiberius, the elder, whom she greatly loved; and Brutus, who was be•n three months after she had been married to A•g••••s, and who was thought to be his own son. The older• of these, Tiberius, whom he afterwards •••pted, and who succeeded him in the empire, was 〈◊〉 general, but of a suspicious and o• •••••te tem ••r▪ s• that though he was serviceable to Augustus 〈…〉 reign wars, yet he gave him but little quiet it 〈◊〉. He was, at la•t, obliged to go into exile for 〈◊〉 years to the island of I•l••des, where he chief •• spent his time in a retire • manner, conversing w•th the Greeks, and addicting himself to be nature; of which, however, he made afterwards but a bad use. Drusus, the other son of Livia, died in his return from an expedition against the Germans, leaving Augustus inconsolable for his loss. But his greatest affliction was, the conduct of his daughter Julia, whom he had by Scri•onia, his former wife. This woman, whom he married to his general Agrippa, and after his death to Tiberius, set no bounds to her lewdness. Not contented with enjoying her pleasures, she seemed also earnest in procuring the infamy of her prestitutions. Augustus, for a long time, would not believe the accounts he daily heard of her conduct; but, at last, could not help observing them. He found she was arrived at that excess of wantonness and prodigality, that she had her nocturnal appointments in the most public parts of the city; the very court, where her father presided, not being exempt from her debaucheries He, at first, had thoughts of putting her to death; but, after some consideration, he banished her to Pandataria, forbidding her the use of wine, and all such delicacies, as could inflame her vicicus inclinations: he ordered also, that no persons should come near her, without his own permission; and sent her mother Scribonia with her, to bear her company. Afterwards, whenever any attempted to intercede for Julia, his answer was, ‘that fire and water should sooner unite, than he with her.’ When some persons, one day, were more than usually urgent with him in her favour, he was driven to such an extremity of passion, as to wish, that they might have such a daughter. However, she had two sons by Agrippa, named Caius and Lucius, from w•om great expectations were formed; but they died when scarcely arrived at man's estate; Lucius about five years after his father, at Marscilles; and Caius, two years after. Augustus having now, in a great measure, survived all his cotemporaries, at length, in the seventy-fourth year of his age, began to think of retiring from the •••igues of state; and, in some measure, of constitutin• Tiberius, his son-in-law by Livia, his succes ••• 〈◊〉 his usual employments. He desired the se ••• to s•lute him no longer at the palace according 〈…〉; not to take it amiss, if, for the future, he 〈…〉 converse with them as formerly. 〈◊〉 that time, Tiberius was joined in the 〈◊〉 went of the provinces with him, and 〈◊〉 with almost the same authority. However, ••gu•••s could not entirely forsake the administra •••• of the state, which habit had mixed with his 〈◊〉 sections; he still continued a watchful guardian at its interests, and shewed himself, to the last, a •••er of his people. Finding it now, therefore, very inconvenient to come to the senate, by reason of his age, he desired to have twenty privy-counsellors assigned him for a year; and it was decreed, that whatever measures were resolved upon by them, together with the consuls, they should have entirely the force of a law. He seemed, in some measure, apprehensive of his approaching end, for he made his will, and delivered it to the vestal virgins. He then solemnized the census, or numbering the people, whom he found to amount to four millions, one hundred and thirty-seven thousand; which shews Rome to be equal to four of the greatest cities of modern times. While these ceremonies were per •••ning, by a mighty concourse of people in the Campus Martius, it is said, that an eagle slew round the emperor several times, and directing its flight to 〈◊〉 •uring temple, perched over the name of Agrippa; which was by the augurs conceived to por ••nd the death of the emperor. Shortly after, having accompanied Tiberius in his march into Illyria, 〈…〉 Beneventum, he was there taken ill of a 〈◊〉. Returning, therefore, from thence, he 〈◊〉 to Nola, near Capua, and there finding himself dangerously ill, he sent for Tiberius, with the rest of his most intimate friends and acquaintance. A few hours before his death, he ordered a looking-glass to be brought, and his hair to be adjusted with more than usual care. He then addressed his friends, whom he beheld surrounding his bed, and desired to know, whether he had properly played his part in life▪ to which being answered in the affirmative, he cried out, with his last breath, ‘then give me your applause;’ and thus, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, after reigning forty one, he expired in the arms of Livia, bidding her remember their marriage and farewell.

The death of the emperor, when known, caused inexpressible grief throughout the whole Roman empire; it was even supposed that his wife Livia had some hand in hastening it, willing to procure the succession more speedily for her son. However this be, she took care, for some time, to keep it concealed, having guarded all the passages to the palace; sometimes giving out that he was recovered, and pretending a relapse. At length, having settled the succession to her mind, she published the empero•'s death, and at the same time the ado•tion of Tiberius to the empire. The emperor's funeral was performed with great magnificence. The senators being in their places, Tiberius, on whom the care was devolved, began a consolatory oration to them; but suddenly s•e•ped in the beginning of his speech, as unable to restrain the violence of his sorrow; and, instead of continuing, gave his notes to Drusus, his son, who read them to the senate. After this, one of t••ed to emperor's freedmen, publicly read his will in the senate house, wherein he made Tiberius and 〈…〉 •is b•••s; and by that, Livia was likewise •dopted into the Julian family, and honoured with ••e n••e of Augusta. Besides his will▪ four other ••iting of his were produced. One, in which he had left instructions concerning his funeral; another, containing an enumeration of his several exploits; a third, comprising an account of the provinces, forces, and even•es of the empire; and the fourth, a sche ••le of directions to Tiberius for governing the empire. Among these, it was found to be his opinion, ••t no man, how great a favourite soever he might be, should be entrusted with too much authority, lest it should induce him to turn tyrant. Another maxim w••, that n••e should desire to enlarge the empire, which was already preserved with difficulty. Thus be ••med studious of serving his country to the very l•st, and the sorrow of the people seemed equal to his ••siduity. It was decreed, that all the women should mourn for him a whole year. Temples were ••••ted to him; divine honours were allowed him; and the Numerius Atticus, a senator, willing to convert the adulation of the times to his own benefit, recei••d a large sum of money, for swearing that he saw him ascending into heaven; so that no doubt re••••d among the people concerning his divinity.

Such were the honours paid to Augustus, whose power began in the slaughter, and terminated in the happiness, of his subjects; so that it was said of him, ‘that it had been good for mankind if he had never seen born, or if he never had died.’ It is very probable, that the cruelties exercised in his triumvirate, were suggested by his colleagues; or, perhaps, he thought, in the case of Caesar's death, that revenge was virtue. Certain it is, that these severities were, in some measure, necessary to restore public tranquility; for until the Roman spirit was entirely eradicated, no monarchy could be secure. He gave the government an air suited to the disposition of the times he indulged his subjects in the pride of seeing the appearance of a republic, while he made them really happy in the effects of a most absolu•e monarchy, guided by the most consummate prudence. In this last virtue he seems to have excelled most monarchs; and, indeed, could we separate Octavius from Augustus, he would be one of the most faultless princes in history.

Tiberius was fifty-six years old when he took upon him the government of the Roman empire. He had long lived in a profound state of dissimulation under Augustus, and was not yet hardy enough to shew himself in his real character. In the beginning of his reign nothing appeared but prudence, generosity, and clemency. But the successes of Germanicus, his nephew, over the Germans, first brought his natural dispositions to light, and discovered the malignity of his mind without disguise. He soon, therefore, began to consult on the most specious means of humbling the popularity of Germanicus, and removing this object of his suspicions. For this purpose, he dispatched Piso to Germanicus, a person of a furious and headstrong temper; and, in every respect, fit to execute those fatal purposes for which he was designed. His instructions were to oppose Germanicus upon every occasion; and to excite all the hatred against him, which, without suspicion, he could; and even to procure his death, if an opportunity should offer. This agent succeeded, Germanicus died soon after, and, as it was universally believed, by poison.

Having now no object of jealousy to keep him in awe, he began to pull off the mask entirely, and appear more in his natural character than befo•e. In the beginning of his cruelties, he took into his confidence Sejanus, a Roman knight, who found out the method of gaining his confidence, by the most refined degree of dissimulation, being an overmatch for his master in his own arts. It is not well known whether he was the adviser of all the cruelties that ensued soon after; but certain it is, that, from the beginning of his ministry, Tiberius seemed to become more fatally suspicious.

Sejanus began by using all his address to persuade Tiberius to retire to some agreeable retreat, remote from Rome. By this he expected many advantages, since there could be no access to the emperor but by him. The emperor, either prevailed upon by his per•uasions, or pursuing the natural turn of his tem •••, which led to indolence and debauchery, in the twe••th year of his reign left Rome, and went into C••p•ni•, under pretence of dedicating temples to Jupiter and Augustus. Still growing weary of places 〈◊〉 mankind might follow him with their comp•••nts and distresses, he withdrew himself into that 〈◊〉 delightful island of Caprea, three miles from 〈◊〉 continent, and opposite Naples. Buried in 〈…〉, he gave himself up to his abandon-〈…〉, quite regardless of the miseries of his 〈◊〉.

•n fact, it had been happy for mankind, had he 〈◊〉 up his suspicions, when he declined the fat•g••s of reigning, and resigned the will to do harm, when he divested himself of the power of doing good. Put from the time of his retreat he became 〈◊〉 cruel, and Sejanus always endeavoured to en ••••e his distrusts. Secret spies and informers were 〈◊〉 in all parts of the city, who converted the most ••rmless actions into subjects of offence.

In c•nsequence of this, Nero and Drusus, the 〈…〉 Germanicus, were declared enemies to 〈◊〉 and afterwards starved to death in prison, 〈◊〉 Agrippina, their mother, was sent into banishment. Sabinus, Asinius Gallus, and Syriacus, were upon slight pretences, condemned and execut ••. In this manner Sejanus proceeded, removing 〈◊〉 who stood between him and the empire, and eve •••• encreasing in confidence with Tiberius, and power with the senate. The number of his statue• exceeding even those of the emperor; people swor• by his fortune, in the same manner as they would have done, had he been actually upon the throne and he was more dreaded than even the tyrant who actually enjoyed the empire. But the rapidity of his rise seemed only preparatory to the greatness of his downfall. All we know of his first disgrace with the emperor is, that Satrius Secundus was the man who had the boldness to accuse him of treason, and Antonia, the mother of Germanicus, seconded the accusation. The senate, who had long been jealous of his power, and dreaded his cruelty, immediately took this opportunity of going beyond the orders of Tiberius, and instead of sentencing him to imprisonment, they directed his execution. As he was conducting to his fate, the people loaded him with insult and execration. He was pursued with sarcastic reproach•s, his st•tues were instantly thrown down, and he himself shortly after strangled by the executioner.

His death only lighted up the emperor's rage for farther executions. Plancina, the wife of Piso, Sextus •e•••iu•, Vescula•ius Atticus, and Julius Marinus, were executed by his command for being attached to Sejanus. He began to grow weary of particular executions, and gave orders, that all the accused should be put to death together, without farther examination. The whole city was filled with slaughter and mourning. When one Carnu•ius had killed himself, to avoid the torture: "Ah," cried Tiberius▪ ‘h•w has that man been able to escape me!’ When a prisoner earnestly entreated, that he would not deter his death: "No," cried the tyrant, ‘I am not sufficiently your friend, to shorten your torments.’

In this manner he lived, odious to all the world, and troublesome to himself; an enemy to the lives of others, and a tormentor of his own. At length, in the twenty-second year of his reign, he began to feel the approaches of his dissolution, and all his appetites totally to forsake him. He now, therefore, found it was time to think of a successor, and at length fixed upon Caligula; willing, perhaps, by 〈◊〉 enormity of Caligula's conduct, with which he was well acquainted, to cover the memory of his 〈◊〉.

Still, however, he seemed willing to avoid his 〈◊〉 and strove, by change of place, to put off the inquietude of his own reflections. He left his ••vourite Island, and went upon the continent: and • last s•••ed at the promontory of Misenum, in a ••use that formerly had belonged to Lucullus. It • there that he fell into such faintings, as all be • 〈◊〉 were fatal. Caligula, supposing him actually 〈◊〉 caused himself to be acknowledged by the 〈…〉 soldiers, and went forth from the empe ••• ••partment amidst the applauses of the multitude; 〈◊〉 all of a sudden he was informed that the em •••• wa• recovered, that he had begun to speak, and 〈◊〉 to eat. This unexpected account filled the 〈…〉 with terror and alarm: every one who 〈…〉 earnest in testifying their joy, now 〈…〉 their pretended sorrow, and left the new 〈◊〉, th••ugh a feigned solicitude for the fate of 〈◊〉. Caligula, seemed thunderstruck; he pre • 〈◊〉 gloomy silence, expecting nothing but 〈…〉 of the empire at which he had aspir •• Ma••o, however, who was hardened in crime, 〈…〉 the dying emperor should be dispatch •• 〈…〉 •e•ing him with pillows, or, as 〈…〉 it, by poison. In this 〈…〉 ••••rius died in the seventy-〈…〉 of his age, after reigning 〈…〉.

It was in the eighteenth year of this monarch•• reign, that Christ was crucified; as if the universal depravity of mankind wanted no less a sacrifice than that of God himself, to reclaim them. Shortly after his death, Pilate wrote to Tiberius an account of his passion, resurrection, and miracles; upon which the emperor made a report of the whole to the senate, desiring that Christ might be accounted God by the Romans. But the senate being displeased that the proposal had not come first from themselves, refused to allow of his apotheosis; alledging an ancient law, which gave them the superintendence in all matters of religion. They even went so far as, by an edict, to command, that all Christians should leave the city; but Tiberius, by another edict, threatened death to all such as should accuse them; by which means they continued unmolested during the rest of his reign.

All the enormities of Caligula were concealed in the beginning of his reign. But it had been happy for him and the empire, had such a beginning been as stren•ously maintained. In less than eight months all appe•r•nce of moderation and clemency vanished; while 〈…〉 p•ssions, unexampled avarice, and capricious cruelty, began to take their turn in his mi••. Pride, impiety, lust, avarice, and all in the extr•••e, 〈…〉 •oment brought forward.

His p•ide 〈…〉 by assuming to himself the title of rule•, which was usually granted only •o kings. H• 〈…〉 have taken the crown and diadem, had 〈…〉 advised that he was already superior to all the m•••rchs of the world. Not long a••er he 〈…〉, and gave himself the na••• •f such divinities • he thought most agreeable to his n•ture. 〈◊〉 this purpose he caused the 〈…〉 the 〈◊〉 of Jupiter and some other gods to be struck ••f, and his own to be put in their places. He frequently seated himself between Castor and P••lu•, and ordered that all who came to their temple to worship, should pay their adorations only to 〈◊〉. However, such was the extravagant inconstancy of this unaccountable ideot, that he changed i•s divinity as often as he changed his cloaths. Be ••g at one time a male diety, at another a female; •••etimes Jupiter or Mars, and not unfrequently V•nus or Diana. He even built and dedicated a •••p•e to his own divinity, in which his statue of 〈◊〉 was every day drest in similar robes to those 〈…〉 himself wore, and was worshipped by 〈…〉 •••ers. His priests were 〈…〉, the 〈◊〉 made to him wore of the m••• e•qui•ite de • 〈…〉 c•uld be 〈◊〉, and the dignity of 〈…〉 I was sought by the m•st opulent men 〈…〉. However, he admitted his wife and his 〈◊〉 that honour; and, to give a •ini•hing stroke 〈…〉, he 〈…〉 a p•i••t to himself. 〈…〉 of assuming the manners of a diety was i• his ridiculous: he often w•nt out in the full 〈◊〉, and courted it in the style of a lover. He of • 〈…〉 it to his bed, to t••e the pleasures of his 〈◊〉. He employed many in•entions to imi • 〈◊〉, and would frequently defy Jupiter, 〈◊〉 ou• with a speech of Homer, "Do you con •••er me, or I will conquer you." He fre ••••tly pretended to converse in whispers with the 〈…〉 Jupiter, and usually seemed angry at its re • 〈◊〉 thr•atening to send it packing into Greece. 〈◊〉, however, he would assume a better tem ••• and seemed contented that they two should 〈◊〉 t•gether in amity.

〈…〉 his vices, his prodigality was the most re • 〈◊〉, and that which in some measure gave rise 〈…〉. The luxuries of former emperors were imp••city itself, when compared to those which he 〈◊〉. He contrived new ways of bathing, where the richest oils and most precious perfumes were e•¦hausted with the utmost profu••on. He found • dishes of immense value, and had even jewels, as • are told, dissolved among his sauces. He, som•¦times, had services of pure gold presented before • guests instead of meat, observing, that a man shou•• be an oeconomist or an emperor.

The expensive manner in which he maintained • horse will give some idea of his domestic oeconom• He built it a stable of marble, and a manger of ivo•• Whenever this animal, which he called Incitat• was to run, he placed centinels near its stable, t• night preceding, to prevent its slumbers from bei•• broken. He appointed it an house, furniture, and kitchen, in order to treat all its visitors with prop•• respect. The emperor sometimes invited Incita•• to his own table, presented it with gilt oats, a• wine in a golden cup. He often swore by the safety • his horse; and it is said he would have appoin•¦ed it to the consulship, had not his death p••¦vented

His impiety was but subordinate to his cruelti•• He flew many of the senate, and afterwards cit• them to appear as if they had killed themselves • cast great numbers of old and infirm men and po•• decrepid housekeepers to wild beasts, to free the sta•• from such unserviceable cit••ens. He usually fed • wild beasts with the bodies of those wretches who•• he condemned, and every tenth day, sent off nu•¦bers of them to be thus devoured; which he joco••¦ly called, c•earing his accounts. One of those w• was thus exposed, crying out that he was innoce•• Caligula ordered his tongue to be cut out, and the thrown into the amphitheatre as before. He to• delight in killing men with slow tortures, that, as • exprest it, they might feel themselves dying; be•• always present at such executions, himself directl• the duration of the punishment, and mitigating • •ortures, merely to prolong them. In fact, he valued himself for no quality more than this unrelenting •emper, and inflexible severity which be preserved •hi•e presiding at an execution. At one time, be •ng incensed with the citizens of Rome, he wished •hat all the Roman people had but one neck, that he might dispatch them at a blow.

Such insupportable and capricious cruelties produced many secret conspiracies against him; but these were for a while deferred, upon account of his intended expedition against the Germans and Bri •••s, which he undertook in the third year of his •••gn. For this purpose, he caused nu ••••s l•vies to be made in all parts of the empire, and talked with so much resoluti•n, that it was universally believed he 〈◊〉 conquer all before him. His march perfectly •edicated the inequality of his temper: sometimes it was so rapid that the cohorts were obliged to leave •heir standards behind them; at other times it was so ••w, that it more resembled a pompous procession than a military expedition. In this disposition he would cause himself to be carried on eight men's 〈◊〉, and ordered all the neighbouring cities 〈◊〉 ••ve their streets well swept and watered, to defend him from the dust However, all these mighty p•e••••ti•ns ended in nothing. Instead of conquering britain, he only gave refuge to one of its banishe• princes; and this he described in his letter to the 〈◊〉 as taking possession of the whole island. In ••••• of conquering Germany, he only led his army 〈…〉 sea-sh•re, in Batavia There, disposing his 〈◊〉 and warlike machines with great solemnity, 〈…〉 up his men in order o• battle, he went 〈…〉 galley, with which coasting alone, he 〈…〉 his trumpets to sound, and the signal to 〈…〉 as if for an engagement; upon which, his 〈◊〉, having had previous orders, immediately fell to ga•hering the shells that lay upon the shore int• their holine•s, terming them the spoils of the con¦quered ocean, worthy of the palace and the Capitol▪ After this ••ughty expedition, calling his army to¦gether, 〈◊〉 a general alter victory, he harangued them in a 〈◊〉 p••s manner, and highly extolled thei• atchievements: and then distributing money among them, dismissed them with orders to be joyful, and congratulated them upon their riches. But that such exploits should not pass without a memorial, he caused a lofty tower to be erected by the sea-side and ordered the galleys in which he had put to sea to be conveyed to Rome, in a great measure, by land.

Cassius Cherea, tribune of the praetorian bands was the person who at last freed the world of this tyrant. Besides the motives which he had in common with other men, he had received repeated insults from Caligula, who tock all occasions of turning him into ridicule, and impeaching him of cowardice, merely because he happened to have an effeminate voice. Whenever Cherea came to demand the watch-word from the emperor, according to custom, he always gave him either Venus, Adonis, or some such, implying effeminacy and softness. He, therefore, secretly imported his designs to several senators and knights, whom he knew to have received personal injuries from Caligula, among whom was Valerius Asiaticus, whose wife the emperor had debauched. Annius Vinicianus also, was desirous of ••g•ging in the first design that o••ere•. Besides th•se, were Cl•mens, the pr••fect; and Cal•••, 〈…〉 •ade him obnoxicus to the 〈…〉

Wh•i•e th••e we•e 〈◊〉 •r•ting upon the most cert•in and speedy 〈…〉 •f des•r•ying the ty•ant, an unexpected 〈…〉 gave new strength to the conspiracy. 〈…〉, a 〈◊〉 of distinction, hav¦ing been accused before the emperor, of having spo ••• •f him with disrespect, the informer cited one Quintilia, an actress, to confirm his accusation. Quintilia, however, was possessed of a degree of fort•tude not easily found, even in the other sex. She c•••i•d the fact with obstinacy; and being put to the 〈◊〉, at the informer's request, she bore the se ••• •••••ments of the rack with unshaken constancy. ••t •hat is most remarkable of her resolution is, that 〈◊〉 ••s acquainted with all the particulars of the c••••ir•cy; and, although Cherea was the person •p•inted to preside at her torture, she revealed no • gi••n the contrary, when she was led to the 〈…〉 trod upon the toe of one of the conspirators, ••ti••ting at once her knowledge of the confederacy, and her own resolution not to divulge it. In this a 〈◊〉 she suffered, until all her limbs were dislo ••• 〈◊〉 and, in that deplorable state, was presented to 〈…〉, who ordered her a gratuity for what 〈◊〉 suffered. Cherea could no longer contain 〈◊〉 •ignation, at being thus made the instrument 〈…〉 •t•s cruelty. After several deliberations with 〈…〉, it was at last resolved to attack him 〈◊〉 the continuance of the Palatine games, 〈…〉 four days; and to strike the blow when 〈…〉 should have the least opportunity to de • 〈◊〉. In consequence of this, the three first 〈◊〉 the games passed, without affording any op • 〈◊〉. Cherea now, therefore, began to appre • 〈…〉 deferring the time of the conspiracy, 〈…〉 means to divulge it: he even began to 〈…〉 the honour of killing the tyrant might 〈…〉 of s•me other pe•son, more bold th•n 〈…〉 Wherefore, he at last res•l•ed, to def•r 〈…〉 of his plot only to the day fell•w • 〈…〉 Caligula s•••ld pass through a private 〈◊〉 to some baths, not far distant from the 〈◊〉

The last day of the games was more splendid tha• the rest; and Caligula seemed more sprightly an• condescending than usual. He took great amuse¦ment in seeing the people scramble for the fruits, an• other rarities, thrown, by his order, among them▪ and seemed no way apprehensive of the plot formed for his destruction. In the mean time, the conspi¦racy began to transpire; and, had he had any friends left, it could not fail of being discovered. A senator, who was present, asking one of his ac¦quaintance if he had heard any thing new, the othe• replying in the negative, "then you must know," says he, ‘that this day will be represented the death of a tyrant.’ The other immediately understood him, but desired him to be more cautious how he divulged a secret of so much importance. The conspirators waited a great part of the day with the most extreme anxiety; and, at one time, Caligula seemed resolved to spend the whole day without any refreshment. This unexpected delay entirely exasperated Chorea; and, had he not been restrained, he would have gone and perpetrated his design in the midst of all the people. Just at that instant, while he was yet hesitating what he should do, Asprenas, one of the conspirators, persuaded Caligula to go to the bath, and take some slight refreshment, in order to enjoy the rest of the entertainment with greater relish. The emperor, therefore, rising up, the conspirators used every precaution to keep off the throng, and to surround him, under pretence of greater assiduity. And these, upon his entering into a little vaulted gallery that led from the theatre to the bath, resolved to dispatch him. Cherea first struck him to the ground with his dagger, crying out, ‘Tyrant, think upon this.’ Immediately after, the other conspirators rushed in; and, while the emperor continued to resist, crying out, that he was not yet dead, they dispatched him with thirty wounds.

Such was the merited death of Caius Caligula, in •he twenty ninth year of his age, after a short reign of three years, ten months, and eight days. It will be unnecessary to add any thing more to his character, than what Seneca says of him: namely, that nature seemed to have brought him forth, to shew what was possible to be produced, from the greatest vice, supported by the greatest authority.

As soon as the death of Caligula was made public, it produced the greatest conf•••on in all parts of the city. The conspirators, who only aimed at destroying a ••••nt, without attending to a successor, had all c••ght safety, by retiring to private places. Some 〈◊〉 happening to run about the palace, discovered Claudius, Caligula's uncle, lurking in a secret 〈◊〉 where he had hid himself through fear. Of this personage, who had hitherto been despised for his imbecility, they resolved to make an emperor; and accordingly carried him upon their shoulders to the •amp, where they proclaimed him, at a time he expected nothing but death, and the senate confirmed their choice.

Claudius was now fifty years old, when he began to reign. The complicated diseases of his infancy, 〈◊〉, in some measure, affected all the faculties both 〈◊〉 his body and mind. He was continued in a state 〈◊〉 pupilage much longer than was usual at that time; 〈◊〉 ••emed, in every part of life, incapable of con •ucting himself.

I'le commencement of his reign, as it was with 〈◊〉 o•her bad emperors, gave the most promi••ng 〈◊〉 •f an happy continuance. He began by pass •••, act of oblivion for all former words and ac ••••▪ and disannulled all the cruel edicts of Cali ••. He shewed himself more moderate than his 〈…〉 with regard to titles and honours. He 〈◊〉 all persons, upon severe penalties, to sacrifice to him, as they had done to Caligula. He was a•¦duous in hearing and examining complaints; a•• frequently administered justice in person; temp•¦ing, by his mildness, the severity of strict justice.

To his solicitude for the internal advantages of t•• state, he added that of a watchful guardianship o• the provinces. He restored Judea to Herod Agripp• which Caligula had taken from Herod Antipas, • uncle, the man who had put John the Baptist • death, and who was banished by order of the prese•• emperor. Claudius also restored such princes their kingdoms, as had been unjustly dispossess•• by his predecessors; but deprived the Lycia• and Rhodians of their liberty, for having pr•¦moted insurrections, and crucified some citizens • Rome.

He even undertook to gratify the people by foreig• conquest. The Britons, who had, for near an hu•¦dred years, been left in sole possession of their ow• island, began to seek the mediation of Rome, to que•• their intestine commotions. The principal ma• who desired to subject his native country to the R•¦man dominion, was one Berious, who, by many a•¦guments, persuaded the emperor to make a desce•• upon the island, magnifying the advantages th•• would attend the conquest of it. In pursuance of h•• advice, therefore, Plautius, the praetor, was ordere• to pass over into Gaul, and make preparations fo• this great expedition. At first, indeed, his soldie• seemed backward to embark, declaring that the were unwilling to make war beyond the limits of th• world, for so they judged Britain to be. However they were at last persuaded to go; and the Britons under the conduct of their king Cynobelinus, wer• several times overthrown.

These successes soon after induced Clau¦dius to go into Britain in person, upo• pretence that the natives were still seditious, and ha• not delivered up some Roman fugitives, who had taken shelter among them. However, his expedition seemed rather calculated for shew than service; the time he continued in Britain, which was in all but sixteen days, was more taken up in receiving homage, than extending his conquests. Great rejoicings were made upon his return to Rome: the senate decreed him a splendid triumph, triumphal arches were erected to his honour, and annual games instituted to commemorate his victories. In the mean time, the war was vigorously prosecuted by Plautius and his lieutenant Vespasian, who, according to Suetonius, fought thirty battles with the enemy, and by that means reduced a part of the island into the form of a Roman province. However, this war broke out afresh under the government of Ostorius, who succeeded Plautius. The Brit•ne either despising him for want of experience, or hoping to gain advantages over a person newly come to command, rose up in arms, and disclaimed the Roman power. The Iceni, the Cangi, and the Brigantes, made a powerful resistance, though they were at length overcome; but the Silures, or inhabitants of South Wales, under their king Carectacus, were the most formidable opponents the Roman generals had ever yet encountered. This brave barbarian not only made a gallant defence, but often seemed to claim a doubtful victory. He, with great conduct, removed the seat of war into the most inaccessible parts of the country, and for nine years kept the Romans in continual alarm.

This general, however, upon the approach of Os •••ius, finding himself obliged to come to a decisive engagement, addressed his countrymen with calm re•••ation; telling them, that this battle would either establish their liberty, or confirm their servitude: that they ought to remember the bravery of their ancestors, by whose valour they were delivered from taxes and tributes, and that this was the time to shew themselves equal to their progenitors. Nothing, however, that undisciplined valour could perform, could avail against the conduct of the Roman legions. After an obstinate fight, the Britons were entirely routed; the wife and daughter of Caractacus were taken prisoners; and he himself seeking refuge from Curtismandua, queen of the Brigantes, was treacherously delivered up to the conquerors. When he was brought to Rome, nothing could exceed the curiosity of the people, to behold a man who had, for so many years, braved the power of the empire. On his part, he testified no marks of base dejection; but, as he was led through the streets, happening to observe the splendor of every object around him; "Alas," cried he, ‘how is it possible, that people possessed of such magnificence at home, could think of envying Caractacus an humble cottage in Britain!’ When he was brought before the emperor, while the other captives sued for pity, with the most abject lamentations, Caractacus stood before the tribunal with an intrepid air, and seemed rather w•lling to accept of pardon, than meanly solicitous of suing for it. "If," cried he, towards the end of his speech, ‘I had yielded immediately, and without opposition, neither my fortune would have been remarkable, no your glory memorable: you would have ceased to be victorious, and I had been forgotten. If now, therefore, you spare my life, I shall continue a perpetual example of your clemency.’ Claudius had the generosity to pardon him, and Ostorius was decreed a triumph, which, however, he did not live to enjoy.

Claudius gave in the beginning of his reign the highest hopes of an happy continuance; but he soon began to lessen his care for the public, and to commit to his favourites all the concerns of the empire. This weak prince had from his infancy been in a state of pupilage; and now, when called to govern, he was unable to act but under the direction of others. The chief of his instructors was his wife, Messalin•, whose name is almost become a common appellation for women of abandoned characters.

By her was Claudius urged on to commit cruelties, which he considered only as wholesome severities, while her debaucheries became every day more notorious, and her lewdness exceeded what had ever been seen in Rome. Her crimes and enormities, however, being at length discovered, she, together with her paramour, Caius Silius, suffered that death they so justly deserved.

Claudius took for his second wife Agrippina, the daughter of his brother Germanicus, a woman of a cruel and ambitious spirit, whose whole aim being to procure the succession for Nero her son, by a former marriage, treated Claudius with such haughtiness, that he was heard to declare, when heated with wine, that it was his fate to suffer the disorders of his wives, and to be their executioner. This expression sunk deep on her mind, and engaged all her ••cu•t•es to prevent the blow. She, therefore, resolved not to defer a crime which she had meditated a long while before; which was, to poison him. S•• for some time, however, debated with herself in what manner she should administer the poison; as she feared too strong a dose would discover her •or 〈◊〉, and one too weak might fail of its effect. At len•th she determined upon a poison of singular 〈◊〉 to destroy his intellects, and yet not suddenly to terminate his life. As she had been long con •er••nt in this horrid practice, she applied to a wom•n e•ded •ocusta, notorious for assisting on such occ•sion•. The poison was given the emperor among mashrooms, a dish he was particularly fond of. ••ortly after having eaten, he dropped down insen •••• but this caused no alarm, as it was usual with him to sit eating till he had 〈…〉 his faculties, and was obliged to be 〈…〉 from the table. However, his co••••tuti•• •eemed to overcome the effects of the 〈…〉 Agrippina resolved to make sure of his 〈◊〉; therefore she directed a wretched physician, who was her creature, to 〈◊〉 a prisoner feather ••wn his throat, under pretence of making him v••t, and this dispatched him.

Nero, though but seventeen years of age, began his reign with the general approvation 〈◊〉 mankind. He appeared 〈◊〉, i• 〈◊〉 and hu•ane: when a warrant 〈◊〉 the execution of a crim••s, was b• •••ght 〈…〉 signed 〈◊〉 was •eard to 〈◊〉 with seeming c•nce•n. ‘We ••d to he•ven that I and 〈…〉 to w•••.’

〈…〉 in years, his 〈◊〉 seemed o• i• c•••s• in c•••d prop•••i•n. 〈…〉 own 〈…〉 was the 〈◊〉 ••••ming 〈◊〉 st•• •e g••e of his creat•••. 〈…〉 g•t h•• 〈…〉 at 〈…〉, he 〈…〉 her to 〈◊〉 put to death in •or p••ce; and coming 〈◊〉 p••sen• to gaze upon the dead ••ady. 〈◊〉 heard to 〈◊〉, t••t he no• or thought his mother had been so 〈◊〉 me

All the mounds of virtue being tha• b•oken de•••, 〈…〉 these to his appe•••ly that were 〈◊〉 only f•ra•d▪ but •••••an. Th• to seem•d 〈…〉 come t• 〈…〉 on; f•r w•••• he 〈◊〉 〈…〉 were suff••••• to ••ke the 〈◊〉 〈…〉, he 〈…〉 of these 〈◊〉 ••rts 〈…〉 and re•ire 〈…〉 〈…〉 even •f 〈…〉 to 〈◊〉 and not to 〈◊〉 ••••rant of p••t 〈…〉 was h•• 〈…〉 and all these he frequently was seen to exh••st in public.

But it had been happy for mankind, had he con ••••• himself to these; and, contented with being ••••emptible, sought not to become formidable 〈◊〉. His cruelties even out did all his other extra ••g•ncies. He seemed even studious of finding out 〈…〉 as well as crimes against nature. Being at •••• in the habit of a woman, and covered with a 〈…〉 veil like a bride, he was wedded to one of 〈◊〉 forminable companions, called Pythagoras, and 〈◊〉 to hi• freedam D••iph•rus. On the other 〈◊〉, that he might be every way detestable, he be •••• the husband of a youth named Sporus, whom 〈◊〉 previously deprived of the marks or virility. 〈…〉 part of the ••ty of R•me was consumed by 〈◊〉 his time. and 〈◊〉 j•st 〈…〉 the con ••• 〈◊〉 to him. It 〈…〉 he need u• on an 〈…〉, during the earth 〈◊〉 of the s••es, 〈◊〉 •ut the 〈…〉, in a player ha ••• 〈◊〉 in a th•• lea• in 〈◊〉, some ve•ses upon 〈◊〉 •••truction of Tre••. As a proof of his w•• up •• 〈◊〉 occasion, none were pe•mitted to len• •y ef •••• 〈◊〉 towards 〈…〉 the flames; and fanc ••• 〈◊〉 ••ns were s••n 〈◊〉 she to the h••ce; 〈◊〉 •••ing that they had ••fers for so doing. H•w •••• 〈◊〉 •e, the emperor used every art to throw the 〈…〉 •f to detestable an action from himself, and 〈…〉 upon the Ch•istians, who were at that time 〈…〉 and in some. Nothing could b• more 〈…〉 u••n the 〈…〉 which another tre•• 〈…〉 Some were covere• ••th 〈…〉 of wi•• 〈…〉, in th•t f•gure, by 〈◊〉 〈…〉 S•me 〈…〉 〈…〉 Wh•• the 〈…〉 〈…〉 o•, the 〈…〉 〈…〉 "for 〈…〉 〈…〉 •ressed 〈◊〉 h•• it of a 〈◊〉, regain 〈◊〉 with their ••rtutes from his gardens: 〈◊〉 entertained the people, at one time with their sufferings, at another with the games of the circus. In this persecution St Paul was beheaded; and St. Peter was crucified with his head downwards; which death he chose. as being more dishonourable than that of his divine master.

A conspiracy formed against Nero by Piso, a man of great power and integrity, which was prematurely discovered, opened a new train of suspicions that destroyed many of the principal families in Rome. The two most remarkable personages who fell on this occasion were Seneca the philosopher, and Lucan the poet, who was his nephew. Nero, either having real testimony against him, or else hating him for his virtues, sent a tribune to Seneca, informing him that he was suspected as an accomplice. The tribune found the philosopher at table with Paulina his wife, and informing him of his business, Seneca replied without any emotion, that his welfare depended upon no man; that he had never been accustomed to indulge the errors of the emperor, and would not do it now. When this answer was brought to Nero, he demanded whether Seneca seemed afraid to die: the tribune replying that he did not appear in the least terrified; ‘Then go to him again.’ cried the emperor, ‘and give him my orders to die.’ Accordingly, he sent a centurion to Seneca, signifying that it was the emperor's pleasure that he should die. Seneca seemed no way discomposed, and was not unminded of his constancy. He endeavoured to console his w•• for 〈◊〉 is, and exhort her to a life of ••••vering virtue. that she seemed resolved on not surviving him, and prest her request to die with him so earnestly, that Seneca, who had long looked upon death as a benefit, at last gave his consent, and the veins of both their arms were opened at the same time. As Seneca was old, and much enfeebled by one austerities of his life, the blood flowed but slowin• so that he caused the veins of his legs and thighs 〈◊〉 be opened also. His pains were long and violent, but they were not capable of repressing his fortitude 〈◊〉 his eloquence. He dictated a discourse to two s••reta•ies, which was read with great avidity after his death by the people, but which has since perish •bl• in the wreck of time. His agonies being now drawn out to a great length, he at last demanded person from his physician; but this also failed of its effect, his body being already exhausted, and in ••p••le of exciting its operation. He was from this •••ed into a warm bath, which only served to pro ••ng his end; at length, therefore, he was put into ••y stove, the vapour of which quickly dispatched 〈◊〉. In the mean time, his wife Paulina, having m•n into a swoon with the loss of blood had her was bound up by her domestics, and by this means 〈◊〉 •ived her husband for some years; but by her con •••ct during the rest of her life, she seemed always thankful of her own love and his example.

The death of Lucan was not less remarkable. T••v••ns of his arms being opened, after he had 〈◊〉 great quantiy of blood, perceiving his hands 〈◊〉 l•gs already dead, while the vital parts still con ••••• warm and vigorous, he called to mind a de ••pt in his own poem of the Pharsalia, of 〈◊〉 dying in similar circumstances, and expired ••e he was repeating that beautiful passage:

Nec sicut vulnere sanguis

•••cuit lentus. Ruptis calit undique venis

— Pars ultima trunci.

〈…〉 in cetum vacuos vitalibus artus

〈◊〉 mil•s qua pulmo jacet qua viscera s•rvent

〈◊〉 •••unt •oi tata ••lu: Luctataque multum

〈…〉 parte, vici vix omnia membra tulerunt.

The death of Petronius about this time, is too remarkable to be past over in silence. This person, whom many modern historians suppose to be the author of a work of no great merit, intituled-Satyricon, which is still remaining, was an Epicurcan, both in principle and practice. In so luxurious a court as that of Nero, he was particularly noted for his refinements in luxury. He was accused of being privy to Piso's conspiracy, and committed to prison. Petronius could not endure the anxiety of suspense, wherefore he resolved upon putting himself to death; which he performed in a manner entirely similar to that in which he had lived. He opened his veins, and then closed them as he thought least painful, with the utmost chearfulness and tranquility. He conversed with his friends, not upon maxims of philosophy, or grave subjects, but upon such topics as had amused his gayest revels. He listened while they recited the lightest poems; and by no action, no word, nor circumstance, shewed the perplexity of a dying person. Shortly after him, Numicius Thermus was put to death, as likewise Barea Scranus, and P•tus Thrasea. The destroying the two last, Tacitus calls an attack upon virtue itself. Thrasea died in the midst of his friends and philosophers, conversing and reasoning on the nature of the soul. His wife, who was the daughter of the celebrated Arria, was desirous of following her mother•s example, but he dissuaded her from it. The death of the valiant Corbulo, who had gained Nero so many victories over the Part•i•••, f••lowed next Nor did the empress Poppea herself escape, whom, in a sit of anger, he kicked when s•e was pregnant, by which she miscarried and di•d. At length, human nature grew weary of bearing her persecutor, and the whole world seemed to •ou•e, as if by common consent, to rid the earth of a monster.

Sergius Galba, who was at that time governor of Sp•in, was remarkable for his wisdom in peace, and his courage in war; but as all talents under corrupt princes are dangerous, he for some years had seemed willing to court obscurity, giving himself up to an inactive life, and avoiding all opportunity of signali•ing his valour.

But willing to rid his country of a monster, he accepted the invitation of Vindex to march with an army towards Rome. The reputation of that general was such, that from the moment be declared against Nero, that tyrant considered himself as undone. He received the account as he was at supper, and, instantly struck with terror, overturned the table with his foot, breaking two crystal vases of immense value. He then fell into a swoon, from which, when he recovered, he tore his cloaths, and struck his head, crying out, ‘that he was utterly undone.’ He now, therefore, called for Locusta to furnish him with poison; and thus prepared for the worst, he retired to the Servelian gardens, with a resolution of flying into Egypt. Being prevented in 〈◊〉, and the revolt becoming general, he went in person, from house to house, but all the doors were that against him, and none were found to answer his enquiries. Being now reduced to a state of desperation, he desired that one of his favourite gladiators might come and dispatch him; but even in this re •••t, there was none found to obey. "Alas," died he, "have I neither friend nor enemy!" And 〈◊〉 ••nning desperately forth, seemed resolved to 〈◊〉 headlong into the Tiber. But just then his 〈…〉 beginning to sail him, he made a sudden 〈…〉 if willing to recollect his reason, and asked 〈◊〉 secret place, where he might reassume his 〈◊〉, and meet death with becoming fortitude. 〈◊〉 distress, Phaon, one of his freedmen, offered 〈…〉 country-house▪ about at four miles distant, where he might, for some time, remain concealed. Nero accepted his offer; and, half dressed as he was, with his head covered, and hiding his face with his handkerchief, he mounted on horse-back, attended by four of his domestics, of whom the wretched Sporus was one. His journey, though short, was crowded with adventures. An earthquake gave him the first alarm. The lightning from Heaven next flashed in his face. Round him he heard nothing but confused noises from the camp, and the cries of the soldiers, imprecating a thousand evils upon his head. A passenger, meeting him on the way, cried, "There go men in pursuit of Nero." Another asked him, if there was any news of Nero in the city. His horse taking flight at a dead body, that lay rear the road, he dropped his handkerchief, and a soldier who was near addressed him by name. He now, therefore, quitted his horse, and forsaking the highway, entered a thicket, that led towards the back part of Phaon's house, through which he crept, making the best of his way among the reeds and brambles, with which the place was overgrown. During this interval, the senate finding the praetorian guards had taken part with Galba, declared him emperor, and condemned Nero to die, "more majorum;" that is, according to the rigour of the ancient laws. When he was told of the resolution of the senate against him, he asked the messenger what was meant, by being punished according to the rigour of the ancient laws? To this he was answered, that the criminal was to be stripped naked, his head was to be fixed in a pillory, and in that posture he was to be scourged to death. Nero was so terrified at this, that he seized two poniards, which he had brought with him, and examining their points, returned them to their sheaths, pretending, that the fatal moment was not yet arrived. He then desired Sporus to begin the lamentations which were used at funerals, he next entreated that some of his attendants would di•, to give him courage by his example; and afterwards began to reproach his own cowardice, crying out, ‘Does this become Nero? Is this trifling well timed? No, no, let me be courageous.’ In fact, he had no time to spare, for the soldiers who had been ••nt in pursuit of him, were just then approaching the house: wherefore, hearing the sound of the horses feet, he set a dagger to his throat, with which, by the assistance of Epaphroditus, his freedman and secretary, he gave himself a mortal wound. However, he was not yet quite dead, when one of the centurions entering the room, and pretending he came to his relief, attempted to stop the blood with his cloak. But Nero regarding him with a stern countenance, said, ‘It is now too late. Is this your fidelity?’ Upon which, with his eyes fixed, and f•ightfully staring, he expired, even in death a ghastly spectacle of innoxious tyranny.

He reigned thirteen years, seven months, and twenty-eight days, and died in the thirty-second year of his age.

Galba was seventy-two years old when he was declared emperor, and was then in Spain with his legions. However, he soon found that his being raised to the throne, was but an inlet to new disquietudes. He seemed to have three objects in view. To curb the insolence of the soldiers, to punish those vices which had come to an enormous height in the last reign, and to replenish the exhequer, which had been quite drained by the prodigality of his predecessors. However, permitting himself to be governing by favourites, he at one time, shewed himself severe and frugal, at another, remiss and prodigal; condemning some illustrious persons, without any hearing; and pardoning others, though guilty. In consequence of this, many seditions were kindled, and several factions promoted in different parts of the empire, but particularly in Germany.

Galba being informed of these commotions, was sensible, that, beside his age, he was less re•pected for want of an heir. He resolved, therefore, to put what he had in fo•erly de••gned in execution, and to adopt some person, whose virtues 〈◊〉 deserve such advancement, and perfect his declining age from danger. His favourites underst•nding his determination, instantly 〈…〉 •ing him an heir of their own ch••ing; s• th•t there arose a great contention among them 〈…〉. Otho made warm applica•ion for hims••f, alledging the great services he had done the empe••r, as being the first men of note who came to his •••stance, when he had declared against Nero. However, Galba, being fully resolved to consult the public good alone, rejected his suit; and, on a day appointed, ordered Piso Lucinianus to attend him. The character given by historians of Piso is, that he was every way worth of the honour designed him. He was no way related to Galba; and had no other interest but merit to recommend him to his favour. Taking this youth, therefore, by the hand, in the presence of his friends, he adopted him to succeed in the empire, giving him the most wholesome less•ns for guiding his future conduct. Piso's conduct shewed that he was highly deserving this distinction: in all his deportment there appeared such modesty, firmness, and equality of mind, as bespoke him rather capable of discharging, than ambitious of obtaining, his present dignity. But the army and the senate did not seem equally disinterested upon this occasion; they had been so long used to bribery and corruption, that they could now bear no emperor, who was not in a capacity of satisfying their avarice. The adoption, therefore, of Piso, was but coldly received; for his 〈◊〉 were no recommendation in a nation of uni •••s•l depravity.

Otho, who had long been a favourite of Galba, 〈◊〉 h•ping to be adopted his successor in the em ••••, finding his hopes disappointed, and still fur •••• stimulated by the immense load of debt which 〈◊〉 contracted by his riotous way of living, resolv •• upon obtaining the empire by force, since he could not by peaceable succession. Having corrupt •• the fidelity of the soldiers, he stole secretly from the emperor, while he was sacrificing; and assemb•••g the soldiers, in a short speech, urged the cruel •••, and the avarice of Galba Finding his in • 〈◊〉 received with universal shouts by the whole 〈◊〉, he entirely threw off the mask, and avowed his intentions of dethroning him. The soldiers being ripe for sedition, immediately seconded his views, 〈…〉 Otho upon their shoulders, immediately d••lared him emperor; and, to strike the citizens 〈◊〉 te•ror, carried him, with their swords drawn, i• the camp.

〈◊〉 after, finding the emperor in some measure 〈◊〉 by his adherents, the soldiers rushed in up • 〈◊〉, trampling the crowds of people that then 〈◊〉 the forum, under foot. Galba seeing them 〈…〉, seemed to recollect all his former fortit••• and bending his head forward, bid the as • 〈◊〉 strike it off, if it were for the good of the 〈◊〉 This was quickly performed; and his head 〈◊〉 set upon the point of a launce, was presented to Otho, who ordered it to be contemptuously car ••• •ound the camp; his body remaining unburied in t•• ••eet•, till it was interred by one of his 〈◊〉. He died in the seventy third year of his age, after a short reign of seven months; as illustrious by his own virtues, as it was contaminated by the vices of his favourites, who shared in his downfall.

Otho, who was now elected emperor, began his reign by a signal instance of clemency, in pardoning Marius Celsus, who had been highly favoured by Galba; and not contented with barely forgiving, he advanced him to the highest honours; asserting, that "fidelity deserved every reward."

In the mean time, the legions in Lower Germany, having been purchased by the large gifts and specious promises of Vitellius their general, were at length induced to proclaim him emperor; and, regardless of the senate, they declared that they had an equal right to appoint to that high station, with the cohorts at Rome.

Otho departed from Rome with all haste to give Vitellius battle. The army of Vitellius, which consisted of seventy thousand men, was commanded by his generals Valens and Cecina, he himself remaining in Gaul, in order to bring up the rest of his forces. Both sides hastened to meet each other with so much animosity and precipitation, that three considerable battles were fought in the space of three days. One near Placentia, another near Cremona, and a third, at a place called Castor; in all which, Otho and the Romans had the advantage. But these successes were but of short-lived continuance, for Valens and Cecinia, who had hitherto acted separately, joining their forces, and reinforcing their armies with fresh supplies, resolved to come to a general engagement. In this, Otho's forces were totally overthrown, and he killed himself shortly after, having reigned three months and five days.

Vitellius was immediately after declared emperor by the senate, and received the marks of distinction which were now accustomed to follow the appointments of the strongest side.

Upon his arrival at Rome, he entered the city, not as a place he came to govern with justice, but as a town that was become his own by the laws of conquest.

Vitellius soon gave himself up to all kinds of luxury and profuseness; but gluttony was his favourite vice; so that he brought himself to an habit a• vomiting, in order to be able to renew his meals a• pleasure. His entertainments, though seldom at 〈…〉 cost, were prodigiously expensive; he fre •••ntly invited himself to the tables of his subjects, ••••s•sting with one, dining with another, and ••pping with a third, all in the same day.

By the continuance of such vices, added to enor •••• cruelties, he became, not only a burden to 〈◊〉, but odious to all mankind. Thus, having 〈◊〉 insupportable to the inhabitants of Rome, 〈◊〉 of the east, who had at first acquiesced 〈◊〉 dominion, began to revolt; and, short • 〈◊〉, unanimously resolved to make Vespasian 〈◊〉.

〈◊〉, the preparations against him, Vitellius, 〈◊〉 ••ried in sloth and luxury, was resolved to 〈◊〉 effort to defend the empire; wherefore, his 〈◊〉 ••mmanders, Valens and Cecinna, were or • 〈…〉 make all possible preparations to refill the 〈◊〉. The first army that entered Italy with an 〈◊〉 intention, was under the command of An •••ius Primus, who was met by Cecinna, near Cre ••na. A battle was expected to ensue; but a negotiation taking place, Cecinna was prevailed upon to 〈◊〉 sides, and declare for Vespasian. His army, however, quickly repented of what they had done; 〈◊〉, imprisoning their general, attacked Antonius, though without a leader. The engagement continued during the whole night; and, in the morning, after a short repast, both armies engaged a second time; when the soldiers of Antonius saluting the rising sun, according to custom, the Vitellians supposing that they had received new reinforcements, betook themselves to flight, with the lose of thirty thousand men.

In the mean time, Vitellius, who was wallowing in all kinds of luxury and excess, made offers to Vespasian of resigning the empire, provided his life were spared, and a sufficient revenue allotted for his support. In order to enforce this request, he issued from his palace in deep mourning, with all his domestics weeping round him. He then went to offer the sword of justice to Cecilius, the consul; which he refusing, the abject emperor prepared to lay down the ensigns of empire in the temple of Concord; but being interrupted by some, who cried out, that he himself was Concord, he resolved, upon so weak an encouragement, •••ll to maintain his power, and immediately prepared for his defence.

During this fluctuation of counsels, one Sabinus, who had advised Vitellius to resign, perceiving his desperate situation, resolved, by a bold step, to oblige Vespasian; and accordingly seized upon the Capitol. But he was premature in his attempt; for the soldiers of Vitellius attacked him with great fury; and prevailing by their numbers, soon laid that beautiful building in ashes. During this dreadful conflagration, Vitellius was fea••ing in the palace of Tiberius, and beholding all the horrors of the assault with great satisfaction. Sabinus was taken prisoner; and shortly after executed by the emperor's command. Young Domitian, his nephew, who was afterwards emperor, escaped by slight, in the habit of a priest; and all the rest who survived the fire were put to the sword.

But Antonius, Vespasian's commander, being arrived before the walls of the city, the forces of Vitellius resolved upon defending it to the utmost extremity. It was attacked, on three sides, with the utmost fury; while the army within, sallying upon the besiegers, defended it with equal obstinacy. The battle lasted a whole day; till, at last, the besieged were driven into the city, and a dreadful slaughter made of them in all the streets which they vainly attempted to defend.

Vitellius was soon sound hidden in an obscure •••n•r, from whence he was taken by a party of the conquering soldiers. Still, however, willing to add a few hours more to his miserable life, he begged to be kept in prison till the arrival of Vespasian at Rome, pretending that he had secrets of importance to discover. But his intreaties were vain: the soldiers binding his hands behind him, and throwing an halter round his neck, led him along, half naked, into the public forum, upbraiding him, as they proceeded, with all those bitter reproaches their malice could suggest, or his own cruelty might deserve. At length, being come to the place of punishment, they killed him with many blows: and then dragging the dead body through the streets with an hook, they threw it, with all possible ignominy, into the river Tyb•r.

Vespasian was now declared emperor, by the unanimous consent, both of the senate and the army; and dignified with all those titles, which now followed rather the power than the merit of those who were appointed to govern.

Having continued some months at Alexandria, in Egypt, where, it is said, he cured a blind and a lime man by touching them, he set out for Rome, giving his son Titus the command of the army that was to lay siege to Jerusalem, while he himself went forward, and was met many miles from Rome by all the senate, and near half the inhabitants, who gave the sincerest testimonies of their joy, in having an emperor of such great and experienced virtues Nor did he, in the least, disappoint their expectations; being equally assiduous in rewarding merit, and pardoning his adversaries; in reforming the manners of the citizens, and setting them the best example in his own.

In the mean time, Titus carried on the war against the Jews with vigour. This obstinate and infatuated people had long resolved to resist the Roman power, vainly hoping to find protection from Heaven, which their impieties had utterly offended. Their own historian represents them, as arrived at the highest pitch of iniquity; while famines, earthquakes, and prodigies, all conspired to forewarn their approaching ruin. Nor was it sufficient that Heaven and earth seemed combined against them; they had the most bitter dissensions among themselves; and were split into two parties, that robbed and destroyed each other with impunity; still pillaging, and, at the same time, boasting their zeal for the religion of their ancestors.

At the head of one of those parties was an incendiary, whose name was John. This fanatic affected sovereign power, and filled the whole city of Jerusalem, and all the towns around, with tumult and pillage. In a short time, a new faction arose, headed by one Simon, who gathering together multitudes of robbers and murderers, who had fled to the mountains, attacked many cities and towns, and reduced all Idumea into his power. Jerusalem, at length, became the theatre in which these two demagogues began to exercise their mutual animosity; John was possessed of the temple, while Simon was admitted into the city; both equally enraged against each other; while slaughter and devastation followed their pretensions. Thus did a city, formerly celebrated for peace and unity, become the seat of tumult and confusion.

It was in this miserable situation that Titus began his operations within about six furlongs of the city of Jerusalem, during the feast of the Passover, when the place was filled with an infinite multitude of people, who had come from all parts to celebrate that great solemnity. The approach of the Romans produced a temporary reconciliation between the contending factions within the city; so that they unanimously resolved to oppose the common enemy first, and then decide their domestic quarrels at a more convenient season Their first f•lly, which was made with much fury and resolution, put the besiegers into great disorder, and obliged them to abandon their camp, and fly to the mountains. However, rallying immediately after, the Jews were forced back into the city; while Titus, in person, shewed surprising instances of valour and conduct.

These advantages over the Romans, only renewed in the besieged their desires of private revenge. A tumult ensued in the temple, in which several of both parties were slain: and in this manner, upon every remission from without, the factions of John and Simon violently raged against each other within; agreeing only in their resolution to defend the city against the Romans.

The city was strongly fortified by three walls on every side, except where it was fenced by deep val ••es. Titus began by battering down the outward well, which, after much fatigue and danger, he effected; all the time shewing the greatest clemency to the Jews, and offering them repeated assurances of 〈◊〉. Five days after the commencement of the siege. Titus broke through the second wall, and, though driven back by the besieged, he recovered 〈◊〉 ground, and made preparations for battering the third wall, which was their last defence. But first he sent Josephus, their countryman, into the city to exhort them to yield, who, using all his eloquence to persuade them, was only reviled with scoffs and reproaches. The siege was now, therefore, carried on with greater vigour than before; several batteries for engines were raised, which were no sooner built, than destroyed by the enemy. At length, it was resolved in council, to surround the whole city with a trench, and thus prevent all relief and succours from abroad. This, which was quickly executed, seemed no way to intimidate the Jews. Though famine and pestilence, its necessary attendant, began now to make the most horrid ravages among them, yet this desperate people still resolved to hold out. He now cut down all the woods within a considerable distance of the city, and causing more batteries to be raised, he, at length, battered down the wall, and in five days entered the citadel by force. The Jews, however, continued to deceive themselves with absurd and false expectations, while many false prophets deluded the multitude, declaring, they should soon have assistance from God. The heat of the battle was now, therefore, gathered round the inner wall of the temple, while the defendants desperately combated from the top. Titus was willing to save this beautiful structure, but a soldier casting a brand into some adjacent buildings, the fire communicated to the temple, and, notwithstanding the utmost endeavours on both sides, the whole edifice was quickly consumed. The fight of the temple in ruins, effectually served to damp the ardour of the Jews. They now began to perceive, that Heaven had forsaken them, while their cries and lamentations echoed from the adjacent mountains. Even those who were almost expiring, lifted up their dying eyes to bewail the loss of their temple, which they valued more than life itself. The most resolute, however, still endeavoured to defend the upper and stronger part of the city, named Sion; but Titus, with his battering engines, soon made himself entire master of the pl•••. John and Simon were taken from the vaults where they had concealed themselves; the former was condemned to perpetual imprisonment, and the latter reserved to grace the conqueror's triumph. The greatest part of the populace were put to the swo•d, and the city was, after a six month's siege, entirely razed by the plough; so that, according to our S•viour's prophecy, not one stone remained upon 〈◊〉. The numbers who perished in this siege, 〈◊〉 to Josephus, amounted to above a mil ••• of souls, and the captives to almost an hundred 〈◊〉.

Upon the taking of Jerusalem, his soldiers would have crowned Titus as conqueror, but he modestly 〈◊〉 the honour, alledging, that he was only an instrument in the hand of Heaven, that manifestly declared its wrath against the Jews. At Rome, however, all mens mouths were filled with the praises of the conqueror, who had not only shewn himself an excellent general, but a courageous combatant: his return, therefore, in triumph, which he ••d with his father, was marked with all the magnificence and joy that was in the power men to express. All things that were esteemed valuable or beautiful among men, were brought to adorn this great occasion. Among the rich spoils, were exposed vast quantities of gold, taken out of the temple; but the book of the Holy Law was not the least remarkable among the magnificent profusion. This was the first time that ever Rome saw the father and the son triumph together. A triumphal arch was erected upon this occasion, on which were described all the •ete•ies of Titus over the Jews, which remains almost entire to this very day. Vespasian likewise 〈◊〉 a temple to Peace, wherein were deposited most of the Jewish spoils; and having now calmed all commotions in every part of the empire, he shut up t•• temple of Janus, which had been open about five or six years.

Few emperors have received a better character from historians than Vespasian, yet all his numerous acts of generosity and magnificence, could not preserve his character from the imputation of rapacity and avarice. He descended to some very unusual and dishonourable imposts, even to the laying a tax upon urine. When his son Titus remonstrated against the meanness of such a tax, Vespasian taking a piece of money, demanded if the smell offended him; adding, that this very money was produced by urine.

Notwithstanding, having reigned ten years, loved by his subjects, and deserving their affection, he was surprised with an indisposition at Campania, which from the beginning he declared would be fatal; and perceiving his end approaching, as he was just going to expire, he cried out, that an emperor ought to die standing; wherefore, raising himself upon his feet, he expired in the hands of those that sustained him.

Titus being joyfully received as emperor, began to reign with the practice of every virtue that became a sovereign and a man. During the life of his father, there had been many imputations against him, both for cruelty, lust, and prodigality; but upon his exaltation to the throne, he seemed entirely to take leave of his former vices, and became an example of the greatest moderation and humanity. His first step towards gaining the affections of his subjects, was his moderating his passions, and bridling his strong inclinations. He had long loved Berenice, sister to Agrippa, king of Judaea, a woman of the greatest beauty, and refined allurements. But knowing that the connection with her was entirely disagreeable to the people of Rome, he gained a victory over his affections, and sent her away, notwithstanding their mutual passion, and the many arts she used to induce him to change his resolutions. He next discarded all those, who had been the former ministers of his pleasures, and forbore to countenance the companions of his looser recreations, though he had formerly taken great pains in the selection. This moderation, added to his justice and generosity, procured him the love of all good men, and the appellation of the Delight of Mankind; which all his actions seemed caculated to ensure.

Titus took particular care to punish all informers, false witnesses, and promoters of dissension. Those wretches, who had their rise in the licentiousness and impunity of former reigns, were now become so ••merous, that their crimes called loudly for punishment. Of these, therefore, he daily made public examples; condemning them to be scourged in the most public streets; next to be dragged through the theatre, and then to be banished into the uninhabited parts of the empire, or sold as slaves. His courtesy and readiness to do good, have been celebrated even i• Christian writers; his principal rule being, never to send any petitioner dissatisfied away. One night, recollecting that he had done nothing beneficial to mankind the day preceding, he cried out, among his friends, "I have lost a day!" A sentence too re •••••ble not to be universally known.

Learning that two noblemen had conspired against 〈◊〉, he readily forgave them, and the next day 〈◊〉 them next himself in the theatre, he put the 〈◊〉 with which the gladiators fought into their 〈◊〉, demanding their judgement and approbation, •••ther they were of sufficient length.

〈◊〉 t•is reign, an eruption of mount Vesuvius did 〈◊〉 damage, overwhelming many towns, 〈◊〉 throwing its ashes into countries more than an ••ndred miles distant. Upon this memorable occa ••••, Pl•ny the naturalist lost his life; for being •••p•lled by too eager a curiosity to observe the eruption, he was suffocated in the flames. There happened also about this time a fire at Rome, which continued three days and nights successively, being followed by a plague, in which ten thousand men were buried in a day. The emperor, however, did all that lay in his power to repair the damages sustained by the public; and, with respect to the city, declared that he would take the whole loss of that upon himself.

These disasters were, in some measure, counterbalanced by the successes in Britain, under Agricola. This excellent general having been sent into that country towards the latter end of Vespasian's reign, shewed himself equally expert in quelling the refractory, and civi•izing th•se who had formerly submitted t• the Roman power. The Old vices, or inhabitants of North Wales, were the first that were subdued. H• th•• made a descent upon Mona, or the i• and of 〈…〉, which surrendered at discretion. Ha•ing 〈…〉 •imself master of the whole 〈…〉 m••h•d to restore discipline to 〈…〉 it▪ introduce some share of politeness among 〈…〉 had conquered. he ex • 〈…〉 and example, to build 〈…〉 •••tely houses. He caused 〈…〉 to be inst•ucted in the li • 〈…〉 taught the Latin language, 〈…〉 the Roman modes of 〈…〉. Thus, by degrees, this barbarous p••ple 〈…〉 assume the luxurious manners of 〈…〉, and, in some time, even to 〈…〉 in a•l the 〈…〉 of f•n••d pleasure. Upon acc••nt of th•se successes in Britain, Ti•us was 〈◊〉 imp•r•• 〈◊〉 the fi•teenth time; but he did not long 〈…〉▪ being surprised by a viol••t 〈…〉 little •i•tance from Rome. He exp•••d 〈…〉 with at suspici•n of 〈◊〉 cry from his b••ther Domitian, who 〈◊〉 ••ng wished to govern. His death was in the forty-first year of his age, having reigned two years, two months, and twenty days.

The beginning of Domitian's reign was universally acceptable to the people, as he appeared equally remarkable for his clemency, libera ••ty and justice.

But he soon began to shew the natural deformity of h•s mind. Instead of cultivating literature, as 〈◊〉 father and brother had done, he neglected all 〈◊〉 of study, addicting himself wholly to meaner •••suits, particularly archery and gaming He was it very expert an archer, that he would frequently 〈◊〉 one of his slaves to stand at a great distance, 〈◊〉 his hand spread as a mark, and would shoot his 〈…〉 with such exactness, as to stick them all be • 〈◊〉 his fingers. He instituted three sorts of con • 〈◊〉 be observed every five years; in music, 〈◊〉 •anship, and wrestling; but at the same time, 〈◊〉 •••hed all philosophers and mathematicians 〈…〉. No emperor before him entertained 〈…〉 with such various and expensive shows. 〈…〉 th•se diversions he distributed great rewards, 〈…〉 president himself, adorned with a purple 〈…〉 crown, with the priests of Jupiter, and the 〈…〉 •la•ian priests about him. The meanness 〈…〉 •p•tions it s••itude, w•s a just contrast to 〈…〉 ••tions of 〈◊〉 ostentation. He usually 〈…〉 if retire••nt in catching files, and 〈…〉 them through with a bodkin; so that one of 〈…〉 being asked, if the emperor were alone, 〈…〉, that h• h•d not so much as a fly to bear 〈…〉.

〈…〉 se•med every day to encrease with the 〈…〉 •f his reign. His ungrateful treatment of 〈…〉 se•med the first symptom of his natural 〈…〉. D•mi•ian was alway• particularly f•nd 〈…〉 a mi•itary •eputation, and therefore jealous of it in others. He had marched some time before into Gaul, upon a pretended expedition against the Catti, a people of Germany; and, without ever seeing the enemy, resolved to have the honour of a triumph upon his return to Rome. For that purpose he purchased a number of slaves, whom he dressed in German habits, and at the head of this miserable procession, entered the city, amidst the apparent acclamations, and concealed contempt, of all his subjects. The successes, therefore, of Aricola in Britain, affected him with an extreme degree of envy. This admirable general pursued the advantages which he had already obtained. He subdued the Caledonians; and overcame Galgacus, the British chief, at the head of thirty thousand men; and afterwards sending out a fleet to scour the coast, first discovered Great Britain to be an island. He likewise discovered and subdued the Orkneys; and thus reduced the whole into a civilized province of the Roman empire. When the account of these successes was brought to Domitian, he received it with a seeming pleasure, but real uneasiness. He thought Agricola's rising reputation a tacit reproach upon his own inactivity; and, instead of attempting to emulate, he resolved to suppress the merit of his services. He ordered him, therefore, external marks of approbation; and took care that triumphant ornaments, statues, and other honours, should be decreed him: but at the same time he removed him from his command, under a pretence of appointing him to the government of Syria. By these means, Agricola surrendered up his province to Sal•stius Lucui•us, but s••n found that Syria was otherwise disposed of. Upon his return to Rome, which was privately, and by r•ght, he was ••••tly received by the emperor; and dying some time after in retirement, it was supp•sed by ••me, that was his end was hastened by Domi ••an's direction.

Domitian soon after found the want of so experienced a commander, in the many irruptions of the barbarous nations that surrounded the empire. The Sarmatians in Europe, joined with those of Asia, made a formidable invasion, at once destroying a whole legion, and a general of the Romans. The Dacians, under the conduct of Decebalus their king, made an irruption, and overthrew the Romans in several engagements. At last, however, the barbarians were repelled, partly by force, and partly by the assistance of money; which only served to enable them to make future invasions with greater advantage. But in whatever manner the enemy might ha••e been repelled, Domitian was resolved not to •se the honours of a triumph. He returned in great splendor to Rome; and, not contented with thus triumphing twice without a victory, he resolved to take the surname of Germanicus, for his conquests over a people with whom he never contended.

In proportion as the ridicule encreased against him, his pride seemed every day to demand greater hom ••e. He would permit his statues to be made only of g••d and silver; he assumed to himself divine honours; 〈◊〉 ordered that all men should treat him with the 〈◊〉 appellations which they gave to the divinity. His c••uelty was not behind his arrogance; he caused 〈◊〉 of the most illustrious senators, and others, 〈◊〉 put to death, upon the most trifling pretences. 〈◊〉 ••••ius Lama was condemned and executed only 〈◊〉 •••ting, though there was neither novelty nor 〈◊〉 ••ney in his humour. Cocceanus was murder ••• 〈◊〉 for celebrating the nativity of Otho. Pom ••• 〈◊〉 shared the same fate, because it was foretold 〈◊〉 ••troi•ger that he should be emperor. Sa ••••s Luculius, his lieutenant in Britain, was de ••••e only for having given his name to a new sort 〈…〉 of his own invention. Junius Rusticus 〈◊〉 publishing a book, in which he commended Thrasea and Priscus, two philosophers, who opposed Vespasian's coming to throne.

Lucius Antonius, governor of Upper Germany, knowing how much the emperor was detested at home, resolved upon striking for the throne; and, accordingly, assumed the ensigns of imperial dignity. As he was at the head of a formidable army, his success remained a long time doubtful; but a sudden overflowing of the Rhine, dividing his army, he was set upon at that juncture by Normandus, the emperor's general, and totally routed. The news of this victory, we are told, was brought to Rome, by supernatural means, on the same day that the battle was fought. Domitian's severity was greatly encreased by this short-lived success. In order to discover those who were accomplices with the adverse party, he invented new tortures; sometimes cutting off the hands, at other times thrusting fire into the privities of those whom •e suspected of being his enemies. During his severities, he aggravated his guilt by hypocrisy, never pronouncing sentence without a preamble full of gentleness and mercy. The night before he crucified the comptroller of his houshold, he treated him with the most seeming friendship, and ordered him a dish of meat from his own table. He carried A••tinus Clemens with him in his own latter the 〈◊〉 had concluded upon his death. He was par•ic•larly t•rrible to the senate and nobility; the whole 〈◊〉 of whom he frequently threatened to ••et•rp••e ent•••ly At one time, he surrounded the senate-〈◊〉 with his troops, to the great consternation of the senators. At another, he resolved to 〈◊〉 use him self with their terrors in a different manner. Having invited them to a public entertainment, he received them all very formally at the entrance of his palace, and conducted them into a spaci•us ha••, hung round with black, and illuminated by a few melancholy lamps, that diffused light only sufficient to shew the horrors of the place. All around were to be seen nothing but coffins, with the names of each of the senators written upon them, together with other objects of terror, and instruments of execution. While the company beheld all these preparations with silent agony, several men, having their bodies blackened, each with a drawn sword in one hand, and a flaming torch in the other, entered the hall, and danced round them. After some time, when the guests expected nothing less than the most instant death, well knowing Domitian's capricious cruelty, the doors were set open, and one of the servants came to inform them, that the emperor gave all the company leave to withdraw.

These cruelties were rendered still more odious by his lust and avarice. Frequently, after presiding at an execution, he would retire with the lewdest prostitutes, and use the same baths which they did. The last part of the tyrant's reign was more insupp••table than any of the preceding. Nero exercised 〈◊〉 cruelties without being a spectator; but a principal part of the Roman miseries, during his reign, was to see and be seen; to behold the stern air, and fr•• visage of the tyrant, which he had armed against 〈◊〉 •hing by continued intemperance, directing the t••tures, and maliciously pleased with adding p••gnance to every agony.

But a period was soon to be put to this monster's cruelties. Among the number of those whom he at ••e caressed and suspected, was his wife Domitia, w••m he had taken from Aelius Lama, her former 〈…〉. It was the tyrant's method to put dnwn the names of all such as he intended to destroy in 〈◊〉 tablets, which he kept about him with great circumspection. Domitia, fortunately, happening to g•t • sight of them, was struck at finding her own name in the catalogue of those fated to destruction. She shewed the fatal list to Norbanus and Petronius, praefects of the praetorian bands, who found themselves set down; as likewise to Stephanus, the comptroller of the houshold, who came into the conspiracy with alacrity. They fixed upon the eighteenth day of September, for the completion of their great attempt. Upon preparing to go to the bath on the morning of that day, Petronius, his chamberlain, came to inform him that Stephanus, the comptroller of the houshold, desired to speak to him, upon an affair of the utmost importance. The emperor having given orders that his attendants should retire, Stephanus entered with his hand in a scarf, which he had worn thus for some days, the better to conceal a dagger, as none were permitted to approach the emperor with arms. He began by giving information of a pretended conspiracy, and exhibited a paper, in which the particulars were specified. While Domitian was reading the contents, with an eager curiosity, Stephanus drew his dagger, and struck him in the groin. The wound not being mortal, Domitian caught hold of the assassin, and threw him upon the ground, calling out for assistance. But Parthenius, with his freedman, a gladiator, and two subaltern officers, now coming in, they ran all furiously upon the emperor, and dispatched him with seven wounds.

It is almost incredible what some writers relate concerning Appollonious Tyaneus, who was then at Ephenus. This person, whom some call a magician, and some a philosopher, but who more probably was nothing more than an impostor, was, just at the minute in which Domitian was stain, lecturing in one of the public gardens of the city. But stopping short, all of a sudden he cried out, ‘Courage, Stephanus, strike the tyrant.’ And then, after a pause, ‘Rejoice, my friends, the tyrant dies this day; this day do I say! the very moment in which I kept silence he suffers for his crimes, he dies!’

Many more prodigies were said to have portended his death, but the fate of such a monster seemed to produce more preternatural disturbances, and more predictions than it deserved. The truth seems to be, that a belief in omens and prodigies were again become prevalent; the people were again relapsing into pristine barbarity: a country of ignorance is ever the proper soil for an harvest of imposture.

CHAP. XXIII. The five good Emperors of Rome.

WHEN it was publicly known that Domitian was slain, the senate began to load his memory with every reproach. His statues were commanded to be taken down; and a decree was made, that all his inscriptions should be erased, his name struck out of the registers of Fame, and his funeral omitted. The people, who now took little part in the affairs of government, looked on his death with indifference; the soldiers alone, whom he had ••aded with favours, and enriched by largesses, sincerely regretted their benefactor.

The senate, therefore, resolved to provide a successor before the army could have an opportunity of t•king the appointment upon themselves; and Coc ••ius Nerva was chosen to the empire the vary •••y on watch the tyrant was slain. He was of an illustrious family, as most say, by birth a Spaniard, and above f••ty-five years old when he was called to the throne. He was, at that time, the most remarkable man in Rome, for his virtues, moderation, and respect to the laws; and he owed his exaltation to the blameless conduct of his former life.

The people being long accustomed to tyranny, they regarded Nerva's gentle reign with rapture, and even gave his imbecility (for his humanity was carried too far for justice) the name of benevolence. Upon coming to the throne, he solemnly swore that no senator of Rome should be put to death by his command, during his reign, though they gave never so just a cause. This oath he so religiously observed, that when two senators had conspired his death, he used no kind of severity against them; but sending for them, to let them see he was not ignorant of their designs, he carried them with him to the public theatre: there presenting each a dagger, he desired them to strike, as he was determined not to ward off the blow.

During his short reign he made several good laws. He particularly prohibited the castration of male children; which had been likewise condemned by his predecessor, but not wholly removed. He put all those slaves to death, who had, during the last reign, informed against their masters. He permitted no statues to be erected in his honour, and converted such of Domitian's as had been spared by the senate, into money. He sold many rich robes, and much of the splendid furniture of the palace, and retrenched several unreasonable expences at court. At the same time, he had so little regard for money, that when one of his subjects found a large treasure, and wrote to the emperor, how to dispose of it, he received for answer, that he might use it; but the finder still informing the emperor that it was a fortune too large for a private person, Nerva, admiring his honesty, wrote him word, that then he might abuse it.

A life of such generosity and mildness, was not, however, without its enemies; Vigilius Rufus, who had opposed him, was not only pardoned, but made his colleague in the consulship Calpurnius Crassus also, with some others, formed a conspiracy to destroy him; but he rested satisfied with banishing those who were culpable, though the senate were for inflicting more rigorous punishments. But the most dangerous insurrection against his interests, was from the praetorian bands, who, headed by Casparius Olianus, insisted upon revenging the late emperor's death, whose memory was still dear to them, from his frequent liberalities. Nerva, whose kindness to good men rendered him more obnoxious to the vicious, did all in his power to stop the progress of this insurrection; he presented himself to the mutinous soldiers, and opening his bosom, desired them to strike there, rather than be guility of so such injustice. The soldiers, however, paid no regard to his remonstrances, but seizing upon Petronius and Parthenius, slew them in the most ignominious manner. Not content with this, they even compelled the emperor to approve of their sedition, and to make a speech to the people, in which he thanked the cohorts for their fidelity.

So disagreeable a constraint upon the emperor's inclinations, was, in the end, attended with the 〈◊〉 happy effects, as it caused the adoption of Tr•ian to succeed him. For perceiving that i• the present turbulent disposition of the times, he stood in need of an assistant in the empire, •••ing aside all his own relations, he fixed upon Ulpius Trajan, an utter stranger to his family, who was then governor in Upper Germany, as his succ•ssor. And in about three months after, having not himself into a violent passion with one Regulus, • senator, he was seized with a fever, of which he died, after a short reign of one year, four months, and nine days.

He was the first foreign emperor who reigned in Rome, and justly reputed a prince of great generosity and moderation. He is also celebrated for his wisdom, though with less reason, the greatest instance he gave of it during his reign, being the choice of his successor.

Trajan's family was originally from Italy, but he himself was born at Seville, in Spain. Upon being informed of the death of Nerva, he prepared to return to Rome, from Germany, where he was governor: and one of the first lectures he received, upon his arrival, was from Plutarch, the philosopher, who had the honour of being his master, and is said to have written him a letter, to the following purpose: ‘Since your merits, and not your importunities, have advanced you to the empire, permit me to congratulate your virtues, and my own good fortune. If your future government proves answerable to your former worth, I shall be happy. But if you become worse for power, yours will be the danger, and mine the ignominy of your conduct. The errors of the pupil will be charged upon his instructor. Seneca is reproached for the enormities of Nero; and Socrates and Quintillian have not escaped censure for the misconduct of their respective scholars. But you have it in your power to make me the most honoured of men, by continuing what you are. Continue the command of your passions; and make virtue the scope of all your actions. If you follow these instructions, then will I glory in my having presumed to give them; if you neglect what I offer, then will this letter be my testimony that you have not erred through the council and authority of Plutarch.’ I have inserted this letter, whether genuine or not, because it seems to me well written; and a striking picture of this greatest philosopher's manner of addressing that best of princes.

This good monarch's application to business, his moderation to his enemies, his modesty in exaltation, his liberality to the deserving, and his frugality in his own expences, have all been the subject of panegyric among his cotemporaries; and they continue to be the admiration of posterity.

Upon giving the prefect of the praetorian bands the sword, according to custom, he made use of this remarkable expression: ‘Take this sword, and use it: if I have merit, for me; if otherwise, against me’ After which, he added, that he who gave laws was first who was bound to observe them.

The first war he was engaged in after his coming to the throne, was with the Dacians, who, during the reign of Domitian, had committed numberless ravages upon the provinces of the empire. He therefore raised a powerful army, and with great expedition marched into those barbarous countries, where he was vigorously opposed by Decebalus, the Dacian king, who, for a long time, withstood his boldest efforts. At length, however, this monarch being cnstrained to come to a general battle, and no longer able to protract the war, he was routed with great slaugther; though not without great loss to the conqueror. The Roman soldiers, upon this occasion, wanting linen to bind up their wounds, the emperor tore his own robes to supply them. This victory compelled the enemy to sue for peace, which they obtained upon very disadvantageous terms; their king coming into the Roman camp, and acknowledging himself a vassal of the Roman empire.

Upon Trajan's return, after the usual triumphs and rejoicings upon such an occasion were over, he was surprised with an account, that the Dacians had renewed hostilities. Decebalus, their king, was now, therefore, a second time, adjudged an enemy to the Roman state, and Trajan invaded his dominions with an army equal to that with which he had before subdued him. But Decebalus, now grown more cautious by his former defeat, used every art to avoid coming to an engagement. He also put various stratagems in practice, to distress the enemy; and, at one time, Trajan himself was in danger of being slain or taken. He also took Longinus, one of the Roman generals, prisoner, and threatened to kill him, in case Trajan refused granting him terms of peace. But the emperor replied, that peace and war had not their dependence upon the safety of one subject only; wherefore Longinus, some time after, destroyed himself by a voluntary death. The sate of this general seemed to give new vigour to Trajan's operations. In order to be better enabled to invade the enemy's territories at pleasure, he undertook a most stupendous work, which was no less than building a bridge across the Danube. This amazing structure, which was built over a deep, broad, and rapid river, consisted of more than twenty-two arches, an hundred and fifty feet high, and an hundred and seventy broad: the ruins of this structure, which remain to this day, shew modern architects how far they were surpassed by the ancients, both in the greatness and the boldness of their designs. Upon finishing this work. Trajan continued the war with great vigour, sharing with the meanest of his soldiers the fatigues of the campaign, and continually encouraging them to their duty by his own example. By these means, notwithstanding the country was spacious and uncultivated, and the inhabitants brave and hardy, he subdued the whole, and added the kingdom of Dacia, as a province to the Roman empire. Decebalus made some attempts to escape, but being surrounded on every side, he at last slew himself, and h•s head was sent immediately to Rome, to certify his misfortune there. These successes seemed to advance the empire to a greater degree of splendour, that it had hitherto acquired. Ambassadors were •••n to come from the interior parts of India, to con •••tu•ate Trajan's success, and bespeak his friendship. At his return to Rome, he entered the city in tri ••ph; and the rejoicings for his victories lasted for ••e space of an hundred and twenty days.

Having given peace and prosperity to the empire, he continued his reign, loved, honoured, and almost •••ted, by his subjects. He adorned the city with pr•••• buildings; he freed it from such men as lived at their vices, he entertained persons of merit with t•e utmost familiarity; and so little feared his enemies, that he could scarcely be induced to suppose he 〈◊〉 any.

It had been happy for this great prince's memory, if he had shewn equal clemency to all his subjects; but, about the ninth year of his reign, he was persuaded to look upon the Christians with a susp••••s eye; and great numbers of them were put to death, as well by popular tumults as by edicts and judicial proceedings. However, the persecution ceased after some time; for 〈◊〉 emperor having advice from Pliny, the pro-consul in Bithynia, of the innocence and simplicity of ••e Christians, and of their inoffensive and moral way of living, he suspended their punishments.

During this emperor's reign, there was a dreadful insurrection of the Jews in all parts of the empire. Th• wretched people, still infatuated, and ever expecting some signal deliverance, took the advantage •f Trajan's absence in the East, in an expedition he had undertaken against the Armenians and Parthians, to massacre all the Greeks, and Romans, which they got into their power, without reluctance or mercy. This rebellion first began in Cyrene, a Roman province in Africa; from thence the flame extended to Egypt, and next to the island of Cyprus. These places, they, in a manner dispeopled with ungovernable fury Their barbarities were such, that they eat the flesh of their enemies, wore their skins, sawed them asunder, cast them to wild beasts, made them kill each other, and studied new torments by which to destroy them. However, these cruelties were of no long duration; the governors of the respective provinces making head against their tumultuous fury, soon treated them with a retaliation of cruelty, and put them to death, not as human beings, but as outrageous pests to society. As the Jews had practised their cruelties in Cyprus particularly, a law was publicly enacted, by which it was made capital for any Jew to set foot on the island.

During these bloody transactions, Trajan was prosecuting his successes in the East, where he carried the Roman arms farther than they had ever been before: but resolving to return once more to Rome, he found himself too weak to proceed in his usual manner. He therefore ordered himself to be carried on shipboard, to the city of Salcucia, where he died of the apoplexy, having been attacked by that disorder once before, in the sixty-third year of his age, after a reign of nineteen years, six months, and fifteen days.

Adrian, who was nephew to Trajan, was adopted to succeed in the empire, and elected by all orders of the state, though absent from Rome, being then at Antioch, as general of the forces in the East.

Upon his election, he began to pursue a course quite opposite to that of his predecessor, taking every method of declining war, and promoting the arts of peace. He was quite satisfied with preserving the ancient limits of the empire, and seemed no way ambitious of extensive conquest.

Adrian was one of the most remarkable of the Roman emperors for the variety of his endowments. He was highly skilful in all the accomplishments both of body and mind. He composed with great beauty, both in prose and verse; he pleaded at the bar, and was one of the best orators of his time. Nor were his moral virtues less than his accomplishments. His moderation and clemency appeared by pardoning the injuries which he had received when he was yet but a private man. One day meeting a person who had formerly been his most inveterate enemy, "My good friend," cried he, "you have escaped, for I am made emperor." He was affable to his friends, and gentle to persons of meaner stations; he relieved their wants, and visited them in sickness; it being his constant maxim, that he was an emperor not elected for his own good, but for the benefit of mankind.

These were his virtues, which were contrasted by a strange mixture of vices; or, to say the truth, he wanted strength of mind to preserve his general rectitude of character without deviation.

He was scarce settled on the throne, when several of the northern barbarians, the Alani, the Sarma ••••s, and the Dacians, began to make devastations o• the empire. These hardy nations, who now ••und the way to conquer, by issuing from their fo •••ts, and then retiring upon the approach of a superior force opposing them, began to be truly formidable to Rome. Adrian had thoughts of contracting the limits of the empire, by giving up some of the most remote and least defensible provinces; but in this he was over-ruled by his friends, who wrongly imagined that an extensive frontier would intimidate an invading enemy. But though he complied with their remonstrances, he broke down the bridge over the Danube, which his predecessor had built, sensible that the same passage which was open to him; was equally convenient to the incursions of his barbarous neighbours.

Having stayed a short time at Rome, so as to see that all things were regulated and established for the safety of the public, he prepared to visit and take a view of his whole empire. It was one of his maxims, that an emperor ought to imitate the sun, which diffuses warmth and vigour over all parts of the earth. He therefore took with him a splendid court, and a considerable force, and entered the province of Gaul, where he numbered all the inhabitants. From Gaul he went into Germany, from thence to Holland, and then passed over into Britain. There reforming many abuses, and reconciling the natives to the Romans; for the better security of the southern parts of the kingdom, he built a wall of wood and earth, extending from the river Eden in Cumberland, to the Tyne in Northumberland, to prevent the incursions of the Picts, and the other barbarous nations to the north. From Britain, returning through Gaul, he directed his journey to Spain, where he was received with great joy, as being a native of that country. There, wintering in the city of Tarragona, he called a meeting of the deputies from all the provinces, and ordained many things for the benefit of the nation. From Spain, returning to Rome, he continued there for some time, in order to prepare for his journey into the east, which was hastened by a new invasion of the Parthians. His approach compelling the enemy to peace, he pursued his travels without molestation. Arriving in Asia Minor, he turned out of his way to visit the famous city of Athens. There making a considerable stay, he was initiated into the Eleusinian mysteries, which were accounted the most sacred in the pagan mythology; and took upon him the office of archon, or chief magistrate of 〈◊〉 place. In this place also, he remitted the severi•y of the Christian persecution, at the representation 〈◊〉 Granianus, the pro-consul of Asia, who repres••ted the people of that persuasion as no way culp ••••. He was even so far reconciled to them, as to think of receiving Christ among the number of the •••s. After a winter's continuance at Athens, he went over into Sicily: and visited Aetna, and the other curiosities of the place. Returning from thence once more to Rome, after a short stay, he prepared s•ips, and crossed over into Africa. There he spent much time in regulating abuses, and reforming the government; in deciding controversies, and erecting magnificent buildings. Among the rest, he ordered Carthage to be rebuilt; calling it, after his own name, Adrianople. Again returning to Rome, where he stayed but a very little time, he travelled a second time into Greece; passed over into Asia Minor; from thence went into Syria, gave laws and instructions to all the neighbouring kings, whom he •••ited to come and consult with him; he then ent••ed Palestine, Arabia, and Egypt, where he caus •• Pompey's tomb, that had been long neglected, 〈◊〉 almost covered with sand, to be renewed and •••tified. He also gave orders for the rebuilding 〈◊〉 ••rusalem; which was performed with great exp•••ion, by the assistance of the Jews, who now be ••• to conceive hopes of being restored to their long 〈◊〉 kingdom. But these expectations only served to •gg••vate their calamities; for being incensed at the p•••ileges which were granted the pagan worship •••s in their new city, they fell upon the Romans 〈◊〉 Christians that were dispersed throughout Judea, 〈◊〉 unmercifully put them all to the sword. Adrian 〈◊〉 at Athens when this dangerous insurrection beg••; wherefore, sending a powerful body of men, under the command of Julius Severus, against them, this general obtained many signal, though bloody victories, over the insurgents. The war was concluded in two years, by the demolition of above a thousand of their best towns; and the destruction of near six hundred thousand men in battle

He then banished all those who remained, out of Judea: and, by a public decree, forbade any to come within view of their native soil. This insurrection was soon after followed by a dangerous irruption of the barbarous nations to the northward of the empire; who entering Media with great fury, and passing through Armenia, carried their devastations as far as Cappadocia. Adrian preferring peace, upon any terms, to an unprofitable war, bought them off by large sums of money; so that they returned peaceably into their native wilds, to enjoy their plunder, and meditate fresh invasions.

Having spent thirteen years in travelling through his dominions, and reforming the abuses of the empire, he at last resolved to return and end all his fati•ues at Rome Nothing could be more grateful to the people than his resolution of coming to reside, for the rest of his days, among them: they received him with the ••ude•t demonst•ations of joy; an•, though he n•w began to grow old and unweildly •e remitted not the least of his former assiduity and application to the •ublic welfare. His 〈◊〉 ••usement w•s in conversing with the most 〈◊〉 men in every •rt and science, frequently b••sting▪ that he thought no kind of knowledge inconsi••••••e or t• be neglected, either in his private o• publi• 〈…〉. Adrian was so f•nd of literary fame, that 〈◊〉 ••re t••d he wrote his own life, and afte• 〈…〉 it to his servants to publish under the 〈…〉. ••t whatever might have been his 〈…〉 at universal reputation, he was in no part of his reign remiss, in attending the duties of his exalted station. He ordered the knights and senators never to appear in public, but in the pr•per habits of their orders. He forbade masters to k•ll their slaves, as had been before allowed; but or •••ned that they should be tried by the laws enacted against capital offences. A law so just, had he done •othing more, deserved to have ensured his reputat••n with posterity, and to have made him dear to •••kind. He still further extended the lenity of the ••ws to those unhappy men, who had been long •••ught too mean for justice: if a master was found k••led in his h•use, he would not allow all his 〈◊〉 to be put to the torture, as formerly, but ••ly such as might have perceived or prevented the murder.

In such employments he consumed the greatest part of his time; but, at last, finding the duties of his station daily encreasing, and his own strength prop•rtionally upon the decline, he resolved upon adopting a successor. Marcus Antoninus, afterwards surnamed the Pious, was the person he pitched upon; but previously obliged him to adopt two others, namely, Marcus Aurelius, and Lucius Verus, all of whom afterwards succeeded in the empire.

While he was thus careful in appointing a succes ••• his bodily infirmities became so insupportable, 〈◊〉 vehemently desired some of his attendants 〈◊〉 dispatch him. Antoninus, however, would 〈…〉 permit any of his domestics, to be guilty 〈◊〉 ••t an impiety, but used all the arts in his 〈◊〉 to reconcile the emperor to sustain life. His 〈◊〉 increasing every day, he was frequently heard 〈…〉, "How miserable a thing it is to seek 〈◊〉, and not to find it!" In this deplorable exi • 〈◊〉 he resolved on going to B•iae, where the 〈◊〉 of his disease encreasing, they affected his •••erstanding. Continuing, for some time, in those ••••lating circumstances, he was at last resolved to 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 observe no regimen, often saying, that kings died merely by the multitude of their physicians. This conduct served to hasten that death he seemed so ardently to desire; and it was probably joy upon its approach which dictated the celebrated stanzas which are so well known, and in repeating which he expired, in the sixty-second year of his age, after a prosperous reign of twenty-one years, and eleven mon•hs.

Titus Antoninus, his successor, was born in the city of Nismes, in Gaul. His father was a nobleman of an ancient family, that had enjoyed the highest honours of the state. At the time of his succeeding to the throne, he was above fifty years old, and had passed through many of the most important offices of the state with great integrity and application. His virtues in private life were no way impaired by exaltation, as he shewed himself one of the most excellent princes for justice, clemency, and moderation. His morals were so pure, that he was usually compared to Numa, and was surnamed the Pious, both for his tenderness to his predecessor Adrian, when dying, and his particular attachment to the religion of his country.

He was an eminent rewarder of learned men, to whom he gave large pensions and great hon•urs, d•awing them from all parts of the world. Among the rest, he sent for Apollonius, the famous •••ic p•ilosopher, to interest his adopted son, Marcus Aurelius, whom he had previously married to his daughter. Apollonius being arrived at Rome, the empero• desired his attendance: but the other arrogantly answered, that it was the scholar's duty to wait upon the master, and not the master's upon the scholar. To this reply, Antoninus only returned with a smile, ‘That it was surprising how Apollonius, who made no difficulty of coming from Greece to Rome, should think it so hard to walk from one part of Rome to another;’ and immediately sent Marcus Aurelius to him. While the good emperor was thus employed, in making mankind happy, in directing their conduct by his own example, or reproving their follies with the keenness of rebuke, he was seized with a violent sever at Lo ••am, a pleasure-house at some distance from Rome; where, finding himself sensibly decaying, he ordere• his friends and principal officers to attend him. In t•eir presence, he confirmed the adoption of Marcus Aurelius, without once naming Lucius Verus, who had been joined by Adrian with him in the succession; then commanding the golden statue of Fortune, which was always in the chamber of the emperor, to be removed to that of his successor, he op•••d, in the seventy-fifth year of his age, after a pr•sperous reign of twenty two years, and almost eight months.

Marcus Aurelius, though left sole successor to the throne, took Lucius Venus as his associate and equal, in governing the state. Aurelius was the son of Annius Verus, of an ancient and illustrious family, which claimed its original from Numa. Lucius Verus was the son of Commodus, who had been adopted to Adrian, but died before he succeeded to the t•rone. Aurelius was as remarkable for his virtues and accomplishments, as his partner in the empire was, for his ungovernable passions and debauched 〈◊〉. The one was an example of the greatest g••••ness and wisdom; the other, of ignorance, sloth, 〈◊〉 •xtravagance.

〈◊〉 two emperors had been scarce settled on the 〈◊〉, when the empire seemed attacked on every 〈◊〉, from the barbarous nations by which it was sur •••••ed. The Catti invaded Germany and Rhaetia, 〈◊〉 all with sire and sword; but were, after some time, repelled by Victorinus. The Britains, likewise revolted, but were re•ressed by Califurnius. But the Pa•thians, under their king Vologesus, made an irruption still more dreadful than either of the former; destroying the Roman legions in Armenia; then entering Syria, and driving out the Roman governor, and filling the whole country with terror and confusion. In order to stop the progress of this barbarous irruption, Verus himself went in person, being accompanied by Aurelius part of the way.

Verus, upon entering Antioch, give an indulgence to every appetite, without attending to the fatigues of war, rioting in excesses unknown, even to the voluptuous Greeks; leaving all the glory of the field to his lieutenants, who were sent to repress the enemy. These, however, sought with great success; Statius Priscus took Artazata; Martius put Vologesus to flight, took Seleucia, plundered and burnt Babylon and Ctesiphon, and demolished the magnificent palace of the kings of Parthia. In a course of four years, during which the war continued, the Romans entered far into the Parthian country, and entirely subdued it; but upon their return, their army was wasted to less than half its former number by pestilence and famine. However, this was no impediment to the vanity of Verus, who resolved to enjoy the honours of a triumph, so hardly earned by others Wherefore, having appointed a king over the Armenians, and finding the Parthians entirely subdued, he assumed the titles of Armonious and P•rthicus: and then returned to Rome, to partake of 〈◊〉 triumph with Aurelius, which was accordingly solem••zed wi•h great pomp and splendor.

During the course of this expedition, which continued 〈◊〉 s•me years, Aurelius was sedulously intent upon distributing justice and happiness to his subjects at home. He first applied himself to the regulation of public affairs, and to the correcting such faults as he found in the laws and policy of the state. In this endeavour, he shewed a singular respect for the senate, often permitting them to determine without appeal; so that the commonwealth seemed in a manner once mere revived under his equitable administration. Besides, such was his application to business, that he often employed ten days together up•n the same subject, maturely considering it on 〈◊〉 sides, and seldom departing from the senate-house 〈◊〉 right coming on, the assembly was dismissed by the consul. But while thus gloriously occupied, 〈◊〉 was daily mortified with accounts of the enormi ••• o• his colleague; being repeatedly assured of his •••ity, lewdness, and extravagance. However, 〈◊〉 himself ignorant of these excesses, he judg •••• •r•i•ge to be the best method of reclaiming him; and therefore sent him his daughter Lucilla, a wo ••• of great beauty, whom Verus married at An ••••. But even this was found ineffectual: Lucilia 〈…〉 disposition very unlike her father: and, 〈◊〉 of c•••es•ing her husband's extravagancies, 〈◊〉 c•ntributed •o in•lame them. Yet Au•cilus still 〈◊〉, that, upon the return of Verus to Rome, his 〈◊〉 would 〈◊〉 him in a••e, and that happiness 〈◊〉 at length, be restored to the state. But 〈…〉 also he was disappointed. His return 〈…〉 i•f•tal to the empire; for his army carried 〈…〉 plague from Parthia, and disleminated 〈…〉 into all the provinces through which it 〈◊〉.

〈◊〉 thing could exceed the miserable state of the 〈◊〉 •••rtly after the return of Verus. In this 〈◊〉 ••••ture was represented an emperor, unawed 〈◊〉 •••ple, or the calamities surrounding him, giv •• 〈◊〉 to unheard of debaucheries. A raging pesti ••••• spreading terror and desolation through all parts of the western world; earthquakes, famines, and inundations, such as had never before happened; the products of the earth, throughout all Italy, devoured by locusts; all the barbarous nations surrounding the empire, the Germans, the Sarmatians, the Quadi, and Marcomanni, taking advantage of its various calamities, and making their irruptions even into Italy itself. The priests doing all they could to put a stop to the miseries of the state, by attempting to appease the gods; vowing and offering numberless sacrifices; celebrating all the sacred rites that had ever been known in Rome; and exhibiting the solemnity called Lectisternia, seven days together. To crown the whole, these enthusiasts, not satisfied with the impending calamities, making new, by ascribing the distresses of the state to the impieties of the Christians alone, so that a violent persecution was seen reigning in all parts of the empire; in which Justin Martyr, St. Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, and an infinite number of others, suffered martyrdom.

In this scene of universal tumult, desolation and distress, there was nothing lest but the virtues and the wisdom of one man alone to restore tranquility, and bring back happiness to the empire. Aurelius began his endeavours by marching against the Marcomanni and Quadi, taking Verus with him, who reluctantly lest the sensual delights of Rome for the fatigues of a camp. They came up with the Marcommanni near the city of Aquileia, and, after a furious engagement, routed their whole army: then pursuing them across the Alps, overcame them in several contests, and, at last, entirely defeating them, returned into Italy without any considerable less. As the winter was for advanced. Verus was determined upon going from Aquileia to Rome, in which journey he was seized with an apoplexy which put an end to his life, being thirty-nine years old, having reigned in conjunction with Aurelius nine.

Aurelius, who had hitherto sustained the fatigues of governing not only an empire, but his colleague, being left to himself, began to act with greater diligence, and more vigour than ever.

After having subdued the Marcommani, a barbarous people that had made inroads upon the empire, he returned to Rome, where he began his usual endeavours to benefit mankind by a farther reformation of the internal policy of the state.

But his good endeavours were soon interrupted by a renewal of the former wars. In one of the eng•gements of which he is said to have been miracul•••ly relieved when his army was perishing with thirst, by the prayers of a christian legion which had been levied in his service. For, at that dreadful p••••ture, and just as the barbarians were ready to 〈◊〉 upon them, we are assured, there f•ll such a 〈◊〉 •ver of rain, as instantly refreshed the fainting 〈◊〉. The soldiers were seen holding their mouths af••• their helmets up to Heaven, and receiving the water which came so wonderfully to their relief. The 〈◊〉 clouds also which served for their rescue, at the s••e time discharged such a terrible storm of hail, •••mpanied with thunder, against the enemy, as ••••ished and confounded them. By this un•o 〈…〉, the Romans recovering strength and con ••••, once more turned upon their pu•••••, and out th••• in pieces.

〈◊〉 are the circumstances of an engagement, ac ••••ledged by pagan, a• wild as christi•n writers, 〈◊〉 with this difference, that the 〈◊〉 ascribe 〈…〉 to their own, the former to the prayers of t•• emperor. However this be, Aurelius seemed ••••••sible of miraculous assistance, that be imm•∣•••••• relaxed the persecution against the Christians, and wrote to the senate in favour of their religion.

This good emperor having at a time detected one Avidius in a conspiracy against him, and generously granting him his pardon, some who were near his person, took the liberty to blame his conduct, telling him, that Avidius would not have been so generous, had he been conqueror: to this, the emperor replied in this sublime manner, ‘I never served the g•ds so ill, or reigned so irregularly, as to fear Avidius could ever be conqueror.’

He usually called Phil•s•phy his mother, in opp•sition to the Court, which he considered as his step-mother. He ••so was frequently heard to s••, ‘that the people were happy whose philosoph•'s were kin•s, or whose kings were philosophers.’ He in fact, was one of the most considerable men then in bring; and though he had been born in the meanest station, his merits, as a •riter, as his we•• r•main to this day, would have in•••ed him imm••t•••ty.

Having 〈…〉 pr•sperity to his subjects, and 〈◊〉 to mankind, 〈…〉 brought him, that the 〈…〉 us of the North, were 〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 the empire. He once 〈…〉, to expose his aged person 〈…〉 and made speedy pre • 〈…〉 the •vent to the senate, 〈…〉 to have money out of t•e public 〈…〉. He 〈◊〉 spent three whole 〈…〉, by which they 〈…〉 having finished his l••t•res, 〈…〉, amidst the 〈…〉 his subjects. It was 〈…〉 to open his third campaign, that he was 〈…〉 Vi••••i••, which stopped the progress of 〈…〉, however, could abate his desire of being beneficial to mankind; his 〈◊〉 for the youth and unpromising disposition of Commodus, his son and successor, seemed to give him great uneasiness; wherefore, he addressed his friends and the principal officers that were gathered round his bed; telling them, that as his son was now going to lose a father, he hoped he should find many ••••ers in them. As he was thus speaking, he was s••t•d with a weakness which stopped his utterance, and which brought him to his end the day following. He died in the fifty-ninth year of his age, having reigned nineteen years and some days; and it seemed as if the whole glory and prosperity of the Roman empire died with this greatest of the Roman emperors.

CHAP. XXIV. From Commodus to the transferring the seat of the empire under Constantine from Rome to By ••ntium.

THE merits of Aurelius procured Commodus an easy accession to the throne. He was acknowledged emperor, first by the army, then by the senate and p••ple, and shortly after by all the provinces.

His whole reign is but a tissue of wantonness and 〈◊〉, cruelty and injustice, rapacity and corruption. There i• so strong a simi•itu•e between his •••duct, and that of Domition, that a reader 〈◊〉 be apt to imagine he was going ever the same 〈◊〉.

He went with his associate to taverns and brothels; spent the day in feasting, and the night in the most •••minable luxuries, having no less than three hun ••ed females, and as many males, for detestable purposes. He committed incest, as Caligula did, with all his sisters. He sometimes went about the markets in a frolic, with small wares, as a petty chapman; sometimes he imitated a horse-courser; and, at other times, drove his own chariot in a slave's habit; while those he chiefly promoted resembled himself, being the companions of his pleasures, or the ministers of his cruelty.

If any person desired to be revenged on an enemy, by bargaining with Commodus for a sum of money, he was permitted to destroy him in such manner as he thought proper. He commanded a person to be cast to the wild beasts, for reading the life of Caligula in Suetonius. He ordered another to be thrown in a burning furnace, for accidentally over-heating his bath. He would sometimes, when he was in a good humour, cut off men's noses, under a pretence of shaving their beards; and yet he was himself so jealous of all mankind, that he was obliged to be his own barber.

At length, upon the feast of Janus, resolving to fence naked before the people, as a common gladiator, three of his friends remonstrated to him upon the indecency of such a behaviour. These were Laetius, his general, Electus, his chamberlain, and Marcia, a concubine, of whom he always appeared excessively fond. Their advice was attended with no other of act, than that of incoming him against them, and inciting him to resolve upon their destruction. It was his method, like that of Domitian, to set down the name of all such as he intended to put to death, in a roll, which he carefully kept by him. However, at this time, happening to lay the roll on his bed, while he was bathing in another room, it was taken up by a little boy, whom he passionately loved. The child after playing with it for some time, brought it to Marcia, who was instantly alarmed at the contents. She immediately discovered her terrors to Laetus and Electus, who perceiving their dangerous situation, instantly resolved the tyrant's death. After some deliberation, it was agreed upon to dispatch him by poison; but this not succeeding, Marcia hastily introduced a young man, called Narcissus, and prevailed upon him to assist in strangling the tyrant. Commodus died in the thirty first year of his age, after an impious reign of twelve years and nine months.

The secrecy and expedition with which Commodus was assassinated were such, that few were at that time, acquainted with the real circumstances of his death. His body was wrapped up as a bale of useless furniture, and carried through the guards, most of whom were either drunk or asleep.

Previous to the assassination, the conspirators had fixed upon a successor. Helvius Pertinax, whose virtues and courage rendered him worthy of the most exalted station, and who had passed through many changes of fortune, was fixed upon to succeed him; when, therefore, the conspirators repaired to his house to salute him emperor, he considered their arrival as a command from the emperor Commodus for his death. Upon Laetus entering his apartment, Pertinax, without any shew of fear, cried out, that for many days he had expected to end his life in that manner, wondering that the emperor had deferred it to long. However, he was not a little surprised when informed of the real cause of their visit; and being strongly urged to accept of the empire, he, at last, complied with their offer.

Bring carried to the camp, Pertinax was proclaimed emperor, and soon after the citizens and senate consented; their joy at the election of their n•w sovereign being scarce equal to that for the death of their tyrant. They then pronounced Commodus a parricide; an enemy to the gods, his country, and all mankind; and commanded, that his corpse should rot upon a dunghill. In the mean time, they saluted Pertinax as emperor and Caesar, with numerous acclamations, and chearfully took the oaths of obedience. The provinces soon after followed the example of Rome; so that he began his reign with universal satisfaction to the whole empire, in the sixty-eight year of his age.

Nothing could exceed the justice and wisdom of this monarch's reign, the short time it continued. But the praetorian soldiers, where maners he had attempted to reform, having been long corrupted by the indulgence and profusion of their former monarch, began to hate him, for the parsimony and discipline he had introduced among them. They therefore resolved to dethrone him; and accordingly, in a tumu•tuous manner, marched through the streets of Rome, entered his palace without opposition, where a Tungrian soldier struck him dead with a blow of his lance. From the number of his adventures, he was called the Tennis-ball of Fortune; and certainly no man eve• experienced such a variety of situations, with s• blameless a character. He reigned but three months.

The soldiers having committed this outrage, m••e proclamation, that they would fell the emp•re to whoever would purchase it at the highe•• price. In consequence of this pr•c•amati•n, two bidders were found; namely, Sulpi•••• an• Di•ius. The former, a consu•ar person, prae•ect of the city, and son-in-law to the late empe•or Pertinax. 〈◊〉 latter, a consular person likewise, a great lawyer, and the wealthiest man in the city Su•pici•• 〈◊〉 promises, than treasure, to bestow. The offers of Didius, who produced immense sums •f 〈◊〉 money, prevailed. He was received into the camp, and the soldiers instantly sw•re t• obey him as emperor.

Upon being conducted to the senate-house, he addressed the few senators that were present in a very laconic speech. ‘Fathers, you want an emperor, and I am the fittest person you can chuse’ The choice of the soldiers was confirmed by the senate, and Didius was acknowledged emperor, now in the fifty-seventh year of his age

It should seem by this weak monarch's conduct, when seated on the throne, that he thought the government of an empire rather a pleasure, than a toil. Instead of attempting to gain the hearts of his subjects, he gave himself up to ease and inactivity, utterly regardless of the duties of his station. He was mild and gentle indeed, neither injuring any, nor expecting to be injured. But that avarice, by which he became opulent, still followed him in his exaltation; so that the very soldiers who elected him, soon began to detest him for those qualities, so very oppos••e to a military character. The people also, against whose consent he was chosen, were not less his enemies. Whenever he issued from his palace, they openly poured forth their imprecations against him, crying out, that he was a thief, and had stolen the empire. Didius, however, in the true spirit of a trader, patiently bore all their reproach, sometimes beckoning to them, with smiles, to approach him, and testifying his regard by every kind of submission.

Soon after Severus, an African by birth, being proclaimed by his army, began by promising to reve•ge the death of Pertinax

Didius, upon being informed of his approach towards Rome, obtained the consent of the senate to 〈◊〉 him ambassadors▪ offering to make him a part •• in the empire. But Severus rejected this offer, 〈◊〉 •ious of his own strength, and of the weakness 〈◊〉 the proposer. The senate soon appeared of the 〈◊〉 sentiments, and perceiving the timidity and 〈◊〉 of their present master, abandoned him. Being called together, as was formerly practised in the times of the commonwealth, by the consuls, they unanimously decreed, that Didius should be deprived of the empire, and that Severus should be proclaimed in his stead. They commanded Didius to be slain, and sent messengers for this purpose to the palace, where they found him disarmed, and dispatched him, among a few friends, that still adhered to his interest.

Severus having overcome Niger and Albinus, who were his competitors for the empire, undertook next the reins of government, uniting great vigour with the most refined policy; yet his African cunning, for he was a native of Africa, was considered as a particular defect in him. He is celebrated for his wit, learning, and prudence; but equally blamed for perfidy and cruelty. In short, he seemed equally capable of the greatest acts of virtue, and the most bloody severities.

Upon his return to Rome, he loaded his soldiers with rewards and honours, giving them such privileges as strengthened his own power, while they destroyed that of the state. For the soldiers, who had hitherto shewed the strongest inclinations to an abuse of power, were now made arbiters of the fate of emperors.

Being thus secure of his army, he resolved to give way to his natural turn for conquest, and to oppose his arms against the Parthians, who were then invading the frontiers of the empire. Having, therefore, previously given the government of domestic policy to one Plautian, a particular favourite, to who•e daughter he married his son Caracalla, he set out for the cast, and prosecuted the war with his usual expedition and success. He forced submission from the king of Armenia, destroyed several cities in Arabia •elix, landed on the Parthian coasts, took and plundered the famous city of Ctesiphon, marched back through Palestine and Egypt, and at length returned to Rome in triumph.

During this interval, Plautian, who was left to direct the affairs of Rome, began to think of aspiring to the empire himself. Upon the emperor's return, he employed a tribune of the praetorian cohorts, of which he was the commander, to assassinate him; as likewise his son, Caracalla. The tribune informed Severus of his favourite's treachery. He at first received it as an improbable story, and as the artifice of one who envied his favourite's fortune. However, he was at last persuaded to permit the tribune to conduct Plautian to the emperor's apartments, to be a testimony against himself. With this intent, the tribune went and amused him with a pretended account of his killing the emperor and his son; desiring him, if he thought fit to see him dead, to go with him to the palace. As Plautian ardently desired their deaths, he readily gave credit to his relation, and following the tribune, was conducted, at midnight, into the innermost recesses. But what must have been his disappointment, when, instead of finding the emperor lying dead, as he expected, he beheld the room lighted up with torches, and Severus, surrounded by his friends, prepared in array to receive him. Being asked by the emperor, with a stern countenance, what had brought him there, at that unseasonable time; he was, at first, utterly confounded, and, not knowing what excuse to make, he ingenuously confessed the whole, intreating forgiveness for what he h•d intended. The emperor seemed inclined to pardon; but Caracalla, his son, who, from the ••rliest age, shewed a disposition to cruelty, with his sword ran him through the body.

After this, he spent a considerable time in visiting some cities in Italy, permitting none of his officers to sell places of trust or dignity, and distributing justice with the strictest impartiality. He then undertook an expedition into Britain, where the Romans were in danger of being destroyed, or compelled to fly the province. Wherefore, after appointing his two sons, Caracalla and Geta, joint successors in the empire, and taking them with him, he landed in Britain, to the great terror of such as had drawn down his resentment. Upon his progress into the country, he left his son Geta in the southern part of the province, which had continued in obedience, and marched, with his son Caracalla, against the Caledonians. In this expedition, his army suffered prodigious hardships in pursuing the enemy; they were obliged to hew their way through intricate forests, to drain extensive marshes, and form bridges over rapid rivers; so that he lost fifty thousand men by fatigue and sickness. However, he supported all these inconveniencies with unrelenting bravery; and prosecuted his successes with such vigour, that he compelled the enemy to beg for peace; which they obtained, not without the surrender of a considerable part of their country. It was there, that for its better security, he built that famous wall, which still goes by his name, extending from Solway Frith, on the west, to the German ocean, on the east. He did not long survive his successes here, but died at York, in the sixty sixth year of his age, after an active, though cruel, reign, of about eighteen years

Caracalla and Geta, his sons, being acknowledged as emperors by the army, began to shew a mutual hatred to each other, even before their arriv•d at Rome. But this opposition was of no long continuance; for Caracalla, being resolved to govern alone, in•i•usly entered Geta's apartment; and, followed by ruffians, s••w him in his mother's arms.

Being thus emperor, he went on to mark his course with blood. Whatever was done by Domitian, or Nero, fell short of this monster's barbarities.

His tyrannies, at length, excited the resentment of Macrinus, the commander of the forces in Mesopotamia, who employed one Martial, a man of great strength, and a centurion of the guards, to dispatch him. Accordingly, as the emperor was riding out one day, near a little city called Carrae, he ha•pened to withdraw himself privately, upon a natural occasion, with only one page to hold his horse. This was the opportunity Martial had so long and ardently desired; wherefore, running to him hastily, as if he had been called, he stabbed the emperor in the back, so that he died immediately. Having performed this hardy attempt, he then, unconcernedly, returned to his troop; but retiring, by insensible degrees, he end••voured to secure himself by flight. But his companions soon missing him and the page giving information of what had been done, he was pursued by the German horse, and cut in pieces.

During the reign of this execrable tyrant, which c•ntinued six years, the empire was every day de •••ning; the soldiers were entirely masters of every ••••tion; and as there were vari•us armies in diffe •••t parts, so there were as many interests all opposite 〈◊〉 •n other.

The soldiers, without an emperor, afte• a suspence of two days, fixed upon Macrinus, who took all possible methods 〈◊〉 ••nceal his being privy to Caracalla's murder. The senate confirmed their choice shortly after; and ••••wise that of his son Diadumenus, whom he took • a partner in the em•ire. Macrinus was fifty-〈◊〉 years old when he entered upon the governm•nt of the empire He was of obscure parentage; s••e say, by birth a Moor, who, by the mere rotation of office, being made first praefect of the praetorian bands, was now, by treason and accident, called to fill the throne.

He was opposed by the intrigues of Mosa and her grandson, Heliogabalus, and being conquered by some seditious legions of his own army, ne•sted to Chalcedon, where those who were sent in pursuit, overtook, and put him to death, together with his son Diadumenus, after a short reign of one year and two months.

The senate and citizens of Rome being obliged to submit to the appointment of the army, as usual, Heliogabalus ascended the throne, at the age of fourteen. His short life is but a tissue of effeminacy, lust, and extravagance. He married, in the small space of four years, six wives, and divorced them all. He was so fond of the sex, that he carried his mother with him to the senate-house, and demanded that she should always be present when matters of importance were debated. He even went so far as to build a senate-house for women, with suitable orders, habits, and distinctions, of which his mother was made president. They met several times; all their debates turning upon the fashions of the day, and the different formalities to be used at giving and receiving visits. To these fellies he added great cruelty, and boundless prodigality; so that he was heard to say, that such dishes as were cheaply obtained, were scarce worth eating. It is even said, he strove to foretel what was to happen, by inspecting the entrails of young men sacrificed; and that he chose the most beautiful youths throughout Italy, to be slain for that horrid purpose.

However, his soldiers mutinying, as was now usual with them; they followed him to his palace, pursuing him from apartment to apartment, till at last he was found concealed in a privy. Having dragged him from thence through the streets, with the most bitter invectives, and having dispatched him, they attempted once more to squeeze his pampered body into a privy; but not easily effecting this they threw it into the Tyber, with heavy weights, that none might afterwards find or give it burial. This was the ignominious death of Heliogabalus, in the eighteenth year of his age, after a detestable reign of four years.

To him succeeded Alexander, his cousin-german, who, without opposition, being declared emperor, the senate, with their usual adulation, were for conferring new titles upon him; but he modestly declined them all. To the most rigid justice he added the greatest humanity. He loved the good, and was a severe reprover of the lewd and infamous. His accomplishments were equal to his virtues. He was an excellent mathematician, geometrician, and musician; he was equally skilful in painting and sculpture; and in p•etry, few of his time could equal him. In short, 〈◊〉 were his talents, and such the solidity of his ju•gment, that, though but sixteen years of age, he was considered as a wise old man.

About the thirteenth year of his reign, the Upper Germans, and other northern nations, began to pour ••wn immense swarms of people upon the more •••thern parts of the empire. They passed the Rhine 〈◊〉 the Danube with such fury, that all Italy was 〈◊〉 •wn into the most extreme consternation. The e•peror, ever ready to expose his person, for the 〈◊〉 of his people, made what levies he could, and w•nt in person to stem the torrent, which he speedily e••••ted. It was in the course of his successes against t•e enemy, that he was cut off by a mutiny among 〈◊〉 own soldiers. He died in the twenty-ninth year of his age, after a prosperous reign of thirteen years and nine days.

The tumults occasioned by the death of Alexander, being appeased, Maximin, who had been the chief promoter of the sedition, was chosen emperor. This extraordinary man, whose character deserves particular attention, was born of very obscure parentage, being the son of a poor herdsman of Thrace. In the beginning he followed his father's humble profession, and only exercised his personal courage against the robbers who infested that part of the country in which he lived. Soon after, his ambition increasing, he left his poor employment, and enlisted in the Roman army, where he soon became remarkable for his great strength, discipline, and courage This gigantic man was no less than eight feet and an half high; he had a body and strength corresponding to his size, being not less remarkable for the magnitude, than the symmetry of his person. His wife's bracelet usually served him for a thumb ring; and his strength was so great, that he was able to draw a carriage which two oxen could not move. He could strike out a horse's teeth, with a blow of his fist; and break its thigh with a kick. His diet was as extraordinary as the rest of his endowments: he generally eat forty pounds weight of flesh every day, and drank six gallons of wine, without committing any debauch in either. With a frame so athletic, he was possessed of a mind undaunted in danger, and neither fearing nor regarding any man. The first time he was made known was to the emperor Severus, who was then celebrating games on the birth day of his son Geta. He overcame sixteen in running, one after the other: he then kept up with the emperor on horseback; and having fatigued him in the course, he was opposed to seven of the most active soldiers, and overcame them with the greatest ease. From that time he was particularly noticed, and taken into the emperor's body guard, and by the usual gradations of preserment came to be chief commander, equally remarkable for his simplicity, discipline, and virtue; and upon coming to the empire, he was found to be one of the greatest monsters of cruelty that ever disgraced power; and, fearful of nothing himself, he seemed to sport with the terrors of all mankind.

However, his cruelties did not retard his military operations, which were carried on with a spirit becoming a better monarch. He overthrew the Germans in several battles, wasted all their country with fire and sword for four hundred miles together, and set a resolution of subduing all the northern nations as far as the ocean. In these expeditions, in order to attach the soldiers more firmly to him, he encreased their pay; and in every duty of the camp, he himself took as much pains as the meanest centinel in his army, shewing incredible courage and assiduity. In every engagement, wherever the conflict was hottest, Maximin was always seen fighting there in person, and destroying all before him: for, being bred a barbarian, he considered it as his duty to combat as a common soldier, while he commanded as a general.

In the mean time, his cruelties had so alienated the minds of his subjects, that several conspiracies were secretly aimed against him. None of them however succeeded, till at last his own soldiers being long harrassed by famine and fatigue, and hearing of revolts on every side, resolved to terminate their calamities by the tyrant's death. His great strength, and his being always armed, were, at first, the principal motives to deter any from assassinating him; but at length having made his guards accomplices in their design, they set upon him, while he slept at noon in his tent, and slew both him and his son, whom he had made his partner in the empire, without any opposition. Thus died this most remarkable man, after an usurpation of about three years, and in the sixty fifth year of his age. His assiduity when in humble station, and his cruelty when in power serve very well to evince, that there are some men, whose virtues are fitted for obscurity; as there are others, who only shew themselves great, when placed in an exalted station.

The tyrant being dead, and his body thrown to dogs and birds of prey, Pupienus and Balbinus continued for some time emperors without opposition.

But differing among themselves, the praetorian soldiers, who were the enemies of both, set upon them in their palace, at a time when their guards were amused with seeing the Capitoline games, and dragging them from the palace towards the camp, slew them both, leaving their dead bodies in the streets, as a dreadful instance of their sedition.

In the midst of this sedition, as the mutineers were proceeding along, they, by accident, met Gordian, the grandson of him wh• was slain in Africa, whom they declared emperor on the spot. This prince was but sixteen years old when he began his reign, but his virtues seemed to compensate for his want of experience. His principal aims were, to unite the opposing members of the government, and to reconcile the soldiers and citizens to each other.

The army, however, began, as usual, to murmur, and their complaints were artfully fomented by Philip, an Arabian, who was praetorian praefect. Things thus proceeding from bad to worse, Philip was, at first, made equal in the command of the empire; shortly after, he was invested with the sole power, and, at length, finding himself capable of perpetrating his long meditated cruelty, Gordian was, by his order, slain, in the twenty-second year of his age, after a successful reign of near six years.

Philip, having thus murdered his benefactor, was so fortunate as to be immediately acknowledged emperor by the army. Upon his exaltation, he associated his son, a boy of six years of age, as his partner in the empire; and, in order to secure his power at home, made peace with the Persians, and marched his army towards Rome. However, the army revolting in favour of Decius, his general, and setting violently upon him, one of the centinels, at a blow, cut off his head; or rather cleaved it asunder, separating the under jaw from the upper. He died in the forty-fifth year of his age, after a reign of about five years; Decius being universally acknowledged as his successor.

The activity and wisdom of Decius seemed, in some measure, to stop the hastening decline of the Roman empire. The senate seemed to think so highly of his merits, that they voted him not inferior to Trajan; and indeed he seemed, in every instance, to consult their dignity in particular, and the welfare of all the inferior ranks of people.

But no virtues could now prevent the approaching downfall of the state: the obstinate disputes between the Pagans and the Christians within the empire, and the unceasing irruptions of barbarous nations from without, enfeebled it beyond the power of remedy. He was killed in an ambuscade of the enemy in the fiftieth year of his age, after a short reign of two years and six months.

Gallus, who had betrayed the Roman army, had address enough to get himself declared emperor by that part of it which survived the defeat; he was forty-five years old when he began to reign, and was descended from an honourable family in Rome. He was the first who bought a dishonourable peace from the enemies of the state, agreeing to pay a considerable annual tribute to the Goths, whom it was his duty to repress.

He was regardless of every national calamity, and lost to debauch and sensuality. The pagans were allowed a power of persecuting the Christians through all parts of the state. These calamities were succeeded by a pestilence from Heaven, that seemed to have in general spread over every part of the earth, and which continued raging for several years, in an unheard of manner; and all these by a civil war, which followed shortly after, between Gallus and his general Aemilianus, who, having gained a victory over the Goths, was proclaimed emperor by his conquering army. Gallus hearing this, soon roused from the intoxications of pleasure, and prepared to oppose his dangerous rival; he with his son were slain by Aemilianus, in a battle fought in Mesia. His death was merited, and his vices were such as to deserve the detestation of posterity. He died in the forty-seventh year of his age, after an unhappy reign of two years and four months, in which the empire suffered inexpressible calamities.

The senate refused to acknowledge the claims of Aemilianus; and an army that was stationed near the Alps, chose Valerian, their own commander, to succeed to the throne, who set about reforming the state with a spirit that seemed to mark a good mind and unabated vigour. But reformation was then grown almost impracticable. The Persians, under their king Sapor, invaded Syria, and coming into Mesopotamia, took the unfortunate Valerian prisoner, as he was making preparations to oppose them. Nothing can exceed the indignities, as well as the cruelties, which were practised upon this unhappy monarch, thus fallen into the hands of his enemies. Sapor, we are told, always used him as a footstool for mounting his horse; he added the bitterness of ridicule to his insults, and usually observed, that an attitude like that to which Valerian was reduced, was the best statue that could be erected in honour of his victory. This horrid life of insult and sufferance continued for seven years; and was, at length, terminated, by the cruel Persian's commanding his prisoner's eyes to be plucked out, and afterwards causing him to be flead alive.

Valerian being taken prisoner, as hath been just mentioned, Galienus, his son; promising to revenge the insult, was chosen emperor, being then about forty-one years old. However he soon discovered that he sought rather the splendors, than the toils, of empire; for after having overthrown Ingenuus, a commander in Pannonia, who had assumed the title of emperor, he sate down, as if fatigued with conquest, and gave himself up to ease and luxury.

It was at this time, that no less than thirty pretenders were seen contending with each other for the dominion of the state, and adding the calamities of civil war, to the rest of the misfortunes of this devoted empire. These are generally known in history by the name of the Thirty Tyrants.

In this general calamity, Galienus, though at first seemingly insensible, was, at length, obliged, for his own private security, to take the field, and led an army to besiege the city of Milan, which had been taken by one of the thirty usurping tyrants. It was there he was slain by his own soldiers, Martian, one of his generals, having conspired against him.

Plavius Claudius being nominated to succeed, he was joyfully accepted by all orders of the state, and his title confirmed by the senate and the people. We are not sufficiently assured of this emperor's lineage and country. Some affirm that he was born in Dalmatia, and descended from an ancient family there; others assert, that he was a Trojan; and others, still, that he was son to the emperor Gordian. But whatever might have been his descent, his merits were by no means doubtful. He was a man of great valour and conduct, having performed the most excellent services against the Goths, who had long continued to make their irruptions into the empire, but on his march against that barbarous people, as he approached near the city Sirmium, in Pannonia, he was seized with a pestilential fever, of which he died in a few days, to the great regret of his subjects, and the irreparable less of the Roman empire.

Upon the death of Claudius, Aurelian was universally acknowledged by all the states of the empire, and assumed the command with a greater share of power than his predecessors had enjoyed for some time before. This active monarch was born of mean and obscure parentage in Dacia, and was about fifty-five years old at the time of his coming to the throne. He had spent the early part of his life in the army, and had risen through all the gradations of military duty. He was of unshaken courage and amazing strength; he, in one single engagement, killed forty of the enemy with his own hand, and above nine hundred at several different times. In short, his valour and expedition were such, that he was compared to Julius Caesar; and, in fact, only wanted mildness and clemency to be every way his equal.

Among the number of those who were compelled to submit to his power, we may reckon the famous Zenobia, queen of Palmy•a. He subdued her country, destroyed her city, and took her prisoner. Longinus, the celebrated critic, who was secretary to the queen, was by Aurdian's order put to death Zenobid was reserved to grace his triumph, and atte•••nds allutted such hands, and such an income, as served to maintain her in almost her former splendor.

His severities at last, were the cause of his destruction. Menestheus, his principal secretary, having been threatened by him, for some fault, which he had committed, formed a conspiracy against him, and as the emperor passed, with a small guard, from Uraclea, in Thrace, towards Byzantium, the conspirators set upon him at once, and slew him with very small resistance. He was slain in the sixtieth, or, as some say, the sixty-third year of his age, after a very active reign of almost five years.

After some time, the senate made choice of Tacitus, a man of great merit, and no way ambitious of the honours that were offered him, being at that time seventy-five years old.

A reign begun with much moderation and justice, only wanted continuance, to have made the empire happy; but after enjoying the empire about six months, he died of a fever in his march to oppose the Persians and Scythians, who had invaded the eastern parts of the empire.

During this short period, the senate seemed to have a large share of authority, and the historians of the times are one and all liberal of their praises, to such emperors as were thus willing to divide their power.

Upon the death of Tacitus, the whole army, as if by common consent, cried out that Probus should be emperor. He was forty four years old when he ascended the throne; was born of noble parentage at Sirmium in Pannonia, and bred up a soldier upon his youth. He began early to distinguish himself for his discipline and valour; being frequently the first man that, in besieging towns, scaled the walls, or that burst into the enemy's camp. He was equally remarkable for single combats, and saving the lives of many eminent citizens. Nor were his activity and courage, when elected to the empire, less apparent than in his private station. Every year now produced only new calamities to the empire; and fresh irruptions on every side threatened universal desolation: perhaps at this time, no abilities except those of Probus, were capable of opposing such united invasions.

However, in the end, his own mutinous soldiers taking their opportunity, as he was marching into Greece, set upon, and slew him, after he had reigned six years and four months, with general approbation.

Carus, who was praetorian praefect to the deceased emperor, was chosen by the army to succeed him; and he, to strengthen his authority, united his two sons, Carinus and Numerian, with him in command; the former of whom was as much sullied by his vices, as the younger was remarkable for his virtues, modesty, and courage. Carus was, shortly after his exaltation, struck dead, by lightning, in his tent, with many others that were round him.

Numerian, the youngest son, who accompanied his father in this expedition, was inconsolable for his death, and brought such a disorder upon his eyes, with weeping, that he was obliged to be carried along with the army, shut up in a close litter. The peculiarity of his situation, after some time, excited the ambition of Asper, his father-in-law, who supposed that he could now, without any great danger, aim at the empire himself. He, therefore, hired a mercenary villain to murder the emperor in his litter; and, the better to conceal the fact, gave out that he was still alive, but unable to endure the light. The offensiveness, however, of its smell, at length, discovered the treachery, and excited an universal uproar throughout the whole army. In the midst this tumult, Dioclesian, one of the most noted commanders of his time, was chosen emperor, and with his own hand slew. Asper; having thus, as it is said, fulfilled a prophecy which had said that Dioclesian should be emperor after he had slain a Boar.

Carinus, the remaining son, did not long survive his father and brother.

Dioclesian was a person of mean birth; being supposed to be, according to some, the son of a scrivener; and of a slave, according to others. He received his name from Dioclea, the town in which he was born, being about forty years old when he was elected to the empire. He owed his exaltation entirely to his merit; having passed through all the gradations of office, with sagacity, courage, and success.

In his time the northern hive, as it was called, po•red down their swarms of barbarians upon the Roman empire. Ever at war with the Romans, they issued when the armies that were to repress their invasions, were called away; and upon their return, they as suddenly withdrew into their cold, barren, and inaccessible retreats, which only themselves could endure. In this manner, the Scythians, Goths, Sarmatians, Alani, Carsii, and Quadi, came down in incredible numbers; while every defeat seemed but to encrease their strength and perseverance. After gaining many victories over these, and in the midst of his triumphs, Dioclesian and Maximian, his partner in the empire, surprised the world by resigning their dignities on the same day, and both retiring into private stations. In this contented manner Dioclesian lived some time, and at last died either by poison or madness, but this is uncertain. His re•gn, which continued twenty years, was active and useful; and his authority, which was tinctured with severity, was well adapted to the depraved state of morals at that time.

Upon the resignation of the two emperors, the two Caesars whom they had before chosen, were universally acknowledged as their successors, namely, Constantius Chlorus, who was so called from the paleness of his complexion, being virtuous, valiant, and merciful, and Galerius, who was brave, but brutal, incontinent, and cruel. As there was such a disparity in their tempers, they readily agreed, upon coming into full power, to divide the empire; Constantius being appointed to govern the western parts.

Constantius died in Britain, appointing Constantine his son, as his successor. Galerius was seized with a very extraordinary disorder in his privities, which baffled all the skill of his physicians, and carried him off, after he had languished in torments for near the space of a year.

Constantine, afterwards surnamed the Great, had some competitors at first for the throne. Among the rest was Maxentius, who was at that time in possession of Rome, and a stedfast assertor of paganism. It was in Constantine's march against that usurper, that we are assured he was converted to Christianity by a very extraordinary appearance. One evening, as we are told, the army being upon it's march towards Rome, Constantine was taken up with various considerations upon the fate of sublunary things, and the dangers of his approaching expedition: sensible of his own incapacity to succeed without divine assistance, he employed his meditations upon the opinions that were chiefly agitated among mankind, and sent up his ejaculations to Heaven to inspire him with wisdom to chuse the path to pursue. It was then, as the fun was declining, that there suddenly appeared a pillar of light in the heavens, in the fashion of a cross, with this inscription, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, In this overcome. So extraordinary an appearance did not fail to create astonishment both in the emperor and his whole army, who considered it as their various dispositions led them to believe▪ Those who were attached to paganism, prompted by their auruspices, pronounced it to be a most inauspicious omen, portending the most unfortunate events: but it made a different impression on the emperor's mind; who, as the account goes, was farther encouraged by visions the same night. He therefore, the day following, caused a royal standard to be made, like that which he had seen in the heavens, and commanded it to be carried before him in his wars, as an ensign of victory and celestial protection. After this, he consulted with several of the principal teachers of Christianity, and made a public avowal of that sacred persuasion.

Constantine having thus attached his soldiers to his interest, who were mostly of the Christian persuasion, lost no time in entering Italy, with ninety thousand foot, and eight thousand horse; and soon advanced almost to the very gates of Rome. Maxentius advanced from the city, with an army of an hundred and seventy thousand foot, and eighteen thousand horse. The engagement was, for some time, fierce and bloody, till his cavalry being routed, victory declared upon the side of his opponent, and he himself was drowned in his flight, by the breaking down of a bridge, as he attempted to cross the Tiber.

Constantine, in consequence of this victory, entering the city, disclaimed all praises which the senate and people were ready to offer; ascribing his success to a superior power. He even caused the cross, which he was said to have seen in the heavens, to be placed at the right of all his statues with this inscription. ‘That under the influence of that victorious cross, Constantine had delivered the city from the yoke of tyrannical power, and had restored the senate and people of Rome to their ancient authority.’ He afterwards ordained that no criminal should, for the future, suffer death by the cross, which had formerly been the most usual way of punishing slaves convicted of capital offences. Edicts were soon after issued, declaring that the Christians should be eased from all their grievances, and received into places of trust and authority.

Things continued in this state for some time, Constantine contributing what was in his power to the interest of religion, and the revival of learning, which had long been upon the decline, and was almost wholly extinct in the empire. But in the midst of these assiduities, the peace of the empire was again disturbed by the preparations of Maximin, who governed in the East; and who, desirous of a full par¦ticipation of power, marched against Licinius, with a very numerous army. In consequence of this step, after many conflicts, a general engagement ensued, in which Maximin suffered a total defeat; many of his troops were cut to pieces, and those that survived submitted to the conqueror. Having, however, escaped the general carnage, he once more put himself at the head of another army, resolving to try the fortune of the field; but his death prevented the design. As he died by a very extraordinary kind of madness, the Christians, of whom he was the declared enemy, did not fail to ascribe his end to a judgment from Heaven; but this was the age in which false judgments and false miracles, made up the bulk of uninstructive history.

Constantine and Licinius thus remaining undisputed possessors and partners in the empire▪ all things promised a peaceable continuance of friendship and power. However, it was soon found, that the same ambition that aimed after a part, would be content with nothing less than the whole Pagan writers ascribe the rupture, between these two potentates, to Constantine; while the Christians, on the other hand, impute it wholly to Licinius. Both sides exerted all their power to make opposition; and, at the head of very formidable armies, came to an engagement near Cybalis, in Pannonia. Constantine, previous to the battle, in the midst of his Christian bishops, begged the assistance of Heaven; while Licinius, with equal zeal, called upon the pagan priests to intercede with the gods in his savour. The success was on the side of truth: Constantine, after an obstinate resistance, became victorious; took the enemy's camp; and, after some time compelled Licinius to sue for a truce, which was agreed upon. But this was of no long continuance; for soon after the war breaking out afresh, and the rivals coming once more to a general engagement, it proved decisive. Licinius was entirely defeated, and pursued by Constantine into Nicomedia, where he surrendered himself up to the victor; having first obtained an oath that his life should be spared, and that he should be permitted to pass the remainder of his days in retirement This, however, Constantine shortly after broke; for either fearing his designs, or finding him actually engaged in fresh conspiracies, he commanded him to be put to death, together with Martian, his general, who, some time before, had been created Caesar.

Constantine being thus sole monarch of the empire, resolved to establish Christianity on so sure a basis, that no new revolutions should shake it. He commanded that in all the provinces of the empire the orders of the bishops should be exactly obeyed. He called also a general council of these, in order to repress the heresies that had already crept into the church, particularly that of Arius. To this place repaired about three hundred and eighteen bishops, besides a multitude of presbyters and deacons, together with the emperor himself; who all, except about seventeen, concurred in condemning the tenets of Arius; and this heresiarch, with his associates, was banished into a remote part of the empire.

Having thus restored universal tranquility to the empire, he was not able to ward off the calamities of a more domestic nature. As the wretched histories of this period are entirely at variance with each other, it is not easy to tell the motives which induced him to put his wife Fausta and his son Crispus to death. The most plausible account is this. Fausta, the empress, who was a woman of great beauty, but of extravagant desires, had long, though secretly, loved Crispus, Constantine's son by a former wife. She had tried every art to inspire this youth with a mutual passion; and finding her more distant efforts ineffectual, had even the confidence to make him an open confession of her desires. This produced an explanation, which was fatal to both. Crispus received her addresses with detestation; and she, to be revenged, accused him to the emperor. Constantine, fired at once with jealousy and rage, ordered him to die without an hearing, nor did his innocence appear till it was too late for redress. The only reparation therefore that remained, was the putting Fausta, the wicked instrument of his former cruelty, to •eath: which was accordingly executed upon her, together with some others, who had been accomplices in her falsehood and treachery.

But it is supposed that all the good he did was not equal to recompence the evil the empire sustained by his transferring the seat of it from Rome to Byzantium, or Constantinople, as it was afterwards called. Whatever might have been the reasons which induced him to this undertaking; whether it was because he was offended at some affronts he had received at Rome, or that he supposed Constantinople more in the centre of the empire; or that he thought the eastern parts more required his presence; experience has shewn that they were all weak and groundless. The empire had long before been in a most declining state; but this, in a great measure, gave precipitation to its downfall. After this it never resumed its former splendor, but, like a flower transplanted into a foreign clime, languished by degrees, and at length sunk into nothing.

His first design was to build a city, which he might make the capital of the world; and for this purpose, he made choice of a situation at Chalcedon in Asia Minor; but we are told, that in laying out the ground plan, an eagle caught up the line, and slew with it over to Byzantium, a city, which lay upon the opposite side of the Bosphorus. Here, therefore, it was thought expedient to fix the seat of empire; and, indeed, nature seemed to have formed it with all the conveniencies, and all the beauties, which might induce power to make it the seat of residence. It was situated on a plain, that rose gently from the water: it commanded that streight which unites the Mediterranean with the Euxine sea, and was furnished with all the advantages which the most indulgent climate could bestow. This city, therefore, he beautified with the most magnificent edifices; he divided it into fourteen regions; built a capitol, an amphitheatre, many churches, and other public works; and, having thus rendered it equal to the magnificence of his idea, he dedicated it in a very solemn manner to the God of martyrs; and in about two years after repaired thither with his whole court.

This removal produced no immediate alteration in the government of the empire; the inhabitants of Rome, though with reluctance, submitted to the change; nor was there for two or three years any disturbance in the state, until, at length, the Goths finding that the Romans had withdrawn all their garrisons along the Danube, renewed their inroads, and ravaged the country with unheard of cruelty. Constantine, however, soon represt their incursions, and so straitened them, that near an hundred thousand of their number perished by cold and hunger.

Another great error ascribed to him is the dividing the empire among his sons Constantine, the emperor's eldest son, commanded in Gaul and the western provinces; Constantius, his second, governed Afric and Illyricum; and Constans, the youngest, ruled in Italy. This division of the empire still farther contributed to its downfa•l; for the united strength of the state bring no longer brought to repress invasion, the barbarians sought with superior numbers, and conquered at last, though often defeated. Constantine was above sixty years old, and had reigned above thirty, when he 〈◊〉 his health began to decline. His disorder, which 〈◊〉 an a •e•, encreasing, he went to Nicome•i•▪ wh••e finding himself without hopes of a recovery, he caused himself to be baptized; and, having soon afte• •eceived the sacrament, he expired after a memorable and active reign of almost thirty-two years.

CHAP. XXV. Of the destruction of the ROMAN EMPIRE, after the death of Constantine, and the events which hastened its catastrophe.

FROM from this dreary period the recovery of the empire was become desperate; no wisdom could obviate its decadence, no 〈◊〉 oppose the evils that surrounded it on every side. Were we to enter into a detail concerning the characters of the princes of those times, it should be rather of the conquerors, not the conquered; of those Gothic chiefs who led a more virtuous and more courageous people to the conquest of nations corrupted by vice and enervated by luxury.

These barbarians were at first unknown to the Romans, and for some time after had been only incommodious to them. But they we now become formidable, and arose in such numbers, that the earth seemed to produce a new race of mankind, to complete the empire's destruction. They had been increasing in their hideous deserts, amidst regions frightful with eternal snows, and had long only waited the opportunity of coming down into a more favourable climate. Against such an enemy no courage could avail, nor abilities be successful; a victory only cut off numbers without an habitation, and a name, soon to be succeeded by others equally desperate and obscure.

The emperors who had to contend with this people, were most of them furnished neither with courage nor conduct to oppose. Their residence in Asia seemed to enervate their manners, and produced a desire in them to be adored like the monarchs of the East. Sunk in softness, they shewed themselves with less frequency to the soldiers, they became more indolent, fonder of domestic pleasures, and more abstracted from the empire. Constantius, who reigned thirty-eight years, was weak, timid, and unsuccessful; governed by his eunuchs and his wives; and unfit to prop the falling empire. Julian, his successor, surnamed the Apostate, upon account of his relapsing into paganism, was, notwithstanding, a very good and a very valiant prince. He, by his wisdom, conduct, and oeconomy, chased the barbarians, that had taken fifty towns upon the Rhine, out of their new settlements; and his name was a terror to them during his reign, which lasted but two years. Jovian and Valentinian had virtue and strength sufficient to preserve the empire from immediately falling under its enemies. No prince saw the necessity of restoring the ancient plan of the empire more than Valentinian; the former emperors had drained away all the frontier garrisons, merely to strengthen their own power at home; but his whole life was employed in fortifying the banks of the Rhine; making levies, raising castles, placing troops in proper stations, and furnishing them with subsistence for their support; but an event, that no human prudence could foresee, brought up a new enemy to assist in the universal destruction.

That tract of land which lies between the Palus Maeotis, the mountains of Caucasus and the Caspian sea, was inhabited by a numerous savage people, that went by the name of the Huns and Allanes. Their soil was fertile, and the inhabitants fond of robbery and plunder. As they imagined it impracticable to cross the Palus Maeotis, they were altogether unacquainted with the Romans, so that they remained confined within the limits their ignorance had assigned them, while other nations plundered with security. It has been the opinion of some, that the slime which was rolled down by the current of the Tanais, had, by degrees, formed a kind of it crustation on the surface of the Cimmaerian Bosphorus, over which these people are supposed to have passed. Others relate that two young Sevthians, being in full pursuit of an heifer, the terrified creature, swam over an arm of the sea, and the youths immediately following her, found themselves in a new world, upon the opposite shore. Upon their return, they did not fail to relate the wonders of the strange lands and countries, which they had discovered. Upon their information, an innumerable body of Huns passed those streights, and meeting first with the Goths, made that people sly before them. The Goths, in consternation, presented themselves on the banks of the Danube, and, with a suppliant air, entreated the Romans to allow them a place of refuge. This they easily obtained from Valens, who assigned them several portions of land in Thrace, but left them destitute of all needful supplies. Stimulated, therefore, by hunger and resentment, they soon after rose against their protectors, and, in a dreadful engagement, which was fought near Adrianople, they destroyed Valens himself, and the greatest part of his army.

It was in this manner the Roman armies grew weaker; so that the emperors, finding it difficult, at last, to raise levies in the provinces, were obliged to hire one body of barbarians to oppose another. This expedient had its use in circumstances of immediate danger; but when that was over, the Romans found it was as difficult to rid themselves of their new allies, as of their former enemies Thus the empire was not ruined by any particular invasion, but sunk gradually under the weight of several attacks made upon it on every side. When the barbarians had wasted one province, those who succeed• of the first spoilers, proceeded on to another. Their devastations were at first limited to Thrace, My•ia, and Pannonia; but when these countries were ruined, they destroyed Macedonia, Thessaly, and Greece; and from thence they expatiated to Noricum. The empire was in this manner continually shrinking, and Italy, at last, became the frontier of its own dominion.

The valour and conduct of Theodosius, in some measure, retarded the destruction that had begun in the time of Valens, but upon his death the enemy became irresistible. A large body of Goths had been called in to assist the regular forces of the empire, under the command of Alaric, their king; but what was brought in to stop the universal decline proved the most mortal stab to its security. This Gothic prince, who is represented as brave, impetuous, and enterprizing, perceiving the weakness of the state, and how little Arcadius and Honorius, the successors of Theodosius, were able to secure it; being instigated also, still farther, by the artifices of one Rufinus, who had designs upon the throne himself; this warlike prince, I say, putting himself at the head of his barbarous forces, declared war against his employers, and fought the armies of the empire for some years with various success. However, in proportion as his troops were cut off, he received new supplies from his native forests; and, at length, putting his mighty designs in execution, passed the Alps, and poured down, like a torrent, among the fruitful vallies of Italy. This charming region had long been the seat of indolence and sensual delight; its fields were now turned into gardens of pleasure, that only served to enervate the possessors, from having once been a nursery of military strength, that furnished soldiers for the conquest of mankind The timid inhabitants, therefore, beheld, with terror, a dreadful enemy ravaging in the midst of their country, while their wretched emperor, Honorious, who was then in Ravenna, still only seemed resolved to keep up his dignity, and to refuse any accommodation. But the inhabitants of Rome felt the calamities of the times with double aggravation. This great city, that had long sate as mistress of the world, now saw herself besieged by an army of fierce and terrible barbarians; and being crowded with inhabitants, it was reduced, by the extremities of pestilence and famine, to a most deplorable situation. In this extremity the senate dispatched their ambassadors to Alaric, desiring him either to grant them peace upon reasonable terms, or to give them leave to fight it with him, in the open field. To this message, however, the Gothic monarch only replied, with a burst of laughter, "that thick grass was easier cut than thin:" implying, that their troops, when cooped up within the narrow compass of the city, would be more easily overcome, than when drawn out in order of battle. When they came to debate about a peace, he demanded all their riches, and all their slaves. When he was asked, "what then he would leave them;' he sternly replied, "their lives." These were hard conditions for such a celebrated city to accept; but, compelled by the necessity of the times, they raised an immense treasure, both by taxation and stripping the heathen temples; and thus, at length, bought off their fierce invader. But this was but a temporary removal of the calamity; for Alaric now finding that he might become master of Rome whenever he thought proper, returned with his army, a short time after; pressed it more closely than he had done before, and at last took it; but whether by force or stratagem, is not agreed among historians. Thus, that city which for ages had plundered the rest of the world, and enriched herself with the spoils of mankind, now felt, in turn, the sad reverse of fortune, and suffered all that barbarity could inflict, or patience endure. The soldiers had free liberty to pillage all places except the Christian churches; and, in the midst of this horrible desolation, so great was the reverence of these barbarians for our holy religion, that the pagan Romans found safety in applying to those of the Chri••ian persuasion for protection. This dreadful devastation continued for three days; and unspeakable were the precious monuments, both of art and learning, that sunk under the fury of the conquerors. However, there were still numberless traces of the city's former greatness; so that this capture seemed rather a correction, than a total overthrow.

But the Gothic conquerors of the West, though they had suffered Rome to survive its first capture, now found how easy it was to become masters of it upon any other occasion. The extent of its walls had, in fact, made it almost impracticable for the inhabitants to defend them; and, as it was situated in a plain, it might be stormed without much difficulty. Besides this, no succours were to be expected from without; for the number of the people was so extremely diminished, that the emperors were obliged to retire to Ravenna; a place so fortified by nature, that they could be safe without the assistance of an army. What Alaric, therefore, spared, Gesneric, king of the Vandals, not long after contributed to destroy: his merciless soldiers, for fourteen days together, ravaged with implacable fury, in the midst of that venerable place. Neither private dwellings, nor public buildings, neither sex, nor age, nor religion, were the least protection against their lust or avarice.

The capital of the empire being thus ransacked several times, and Italy over-run by barbarous invaders, under various denominations, from the remotest skirts of Europe; the western emperors, for some time, continued to hold the title without the power of royalty. Honorius lived till he saw himself stripped of the greatest part of his dominions; his capital taken by the Goths; the Huns seized of Pannonia; the Alans, Suevi, and Vandals established in Spain; and the Burgundians settled in Gaul, where the Goths also fixed themselves at last. After some time, the inhabitants of Rome also, being abandoned by their princes, feebly attempted to take the supreme power into their own hands. Armorica and Britain, seeing themselves forsaken, began to regulate themselves by their own laws. Thus the power of the state was entirely broken, and those who assumed the title of emperors, only encountered certain destruction. At length, even the very name of emperor of the West expired upon the abdication of Augustulus; and Odoacer, general of the Heruli, assumed the title of king of all Italy. Such was the end of this great empire, that had conquered mankind with its arms, and instructed the world with its wisdom; that had risen by temperance, and that fell by luxury; that had been established by a spirit of patriotism, and that sunk into ruin when the empire was become so extensive, that a Roman citizen was but an empty name. Its final dissolution happened about five hundred and twenty-two years after the battle of Pharsalia; an hundred and forty-six after the removal of the imperial seat to Constantinople; and four hundred and seventy-six after the nativity of our Saviour.

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Dr. Goldsmith's Roman history abridged by himself for the use of schools

Roman history.

Goldsmith, Oliver, 1730?-1774.

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— Dr. Goldsmith's Roman history abridged by himself for the use of schools, Roman history., Goldsmith, Oliver, 1730?-1774.. [4],viii,311,[1]p. ; 12⁰. London :: printed for S. Baker and G. Leigh; T. Davies; and L. Davis,. 1772.. [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT146057.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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